#Orchid uses her hands a lot and rarely makes hearts

[spotaus]

Pt 35!

[onlyswan]

many moons | jjk

summary: your father sets off to find a way to get you the moon, not realizing he has already given it to you.

royalguard!jk x princess!reader, strangers to lovers

fluff, angst a bit, slightly suggestive / wc: 11.2k

warnings: brings up death but we r good dw, kisses nd making out, hickeys, they’re jus two lovers in love <3 :] + jk nose appreciation . this is rlly self indulgent fluff i think

note: hello. LOOK AT JUNGKOOK HE IS SO DREAMY OH MYGOD moving on this idea jus came to me very randomly 😭 this is based from the little fairytale many moons by james thurber <3 obv i changed a lot of things but the gist of the story is there mostly in first 1/4 hehe :] that’s all . lmk what u think ^__^

—

“my daughter, tell me what i must do for you to be healed from your illness. i will do absolutely anything to bring back the days you used to live in the garden… my sweet, sweet daughter who loved the children and was adored by the townspeople.” your father weeps pitifully, kneeling on the floor beside your king-sized bed.

his hands hold one of yours in a tight grip, scared that you might disappear out of thin air if he were to let go.

he has called all the doctors within your ruling, and even kingdoms from far and wide. he has tried all forms of entertainment. magic, theater, and the arts. he resorted to allowing spells to be casted upon you, but you only grew sicker as the days passed. the bright light in your eyes your father once adored, the only source of inspiration and motivation in his life, has died out. you are his only family left. his most precious treasure. and he would do anything in power as the king to give you a joyful and comfortable life.

you stay quiet the entire time he cries out, your eyes looking far, far away. several royal guards stand on the grounds below your balcony as you wished your father to let you open the door and keep the curtains drawn, providing extra security for you to gaze at the moon longingly every night. the moon, your very best friend. the moon, who watches over you and smiles when you try to catch it in the palm of your hand. the moon, who changes in shape, gradually, from crescent to full - giving you hope that someday soon, you will become full once again. the moon, who you want to take with you everywhere you go.

“i will get you anything your heart desires.” the king says. “is there anything your heart desires?”

“father, the moon.” your voice soft, but weak. “bring me the moon, and i will be healed.”

the king perks up upon hearing your voice. you barely speak these days (it makes the pain worse), therefore it’s a delight for him in the rare occasions that you do. you make it count, he thinks to himself as you’ve given him a glimmer of hope in the brink of him giving up.

he stands up and dusts his knees, fixing his clothes to make himself look presentable again. and because he has many great wise men who have always gotten him everything he asks for, “then, my child, the moon you shall have.”

—

the next morning. the king calls his most trusted righthand man to the throne moon. tall, well-built, and has the strength of a thousand horses. dressed in a thick bronze armor. anything he asks for, the man brings a day or two after. his deep, low voice echoes and ripples as he greets the king.

“i want the moon.” the king demands. “the princess wants the moon. she will get well once it is in her possession.”

“the moon?” the man exclaims, his eyes widening.

“yes, the moon.” the king confirms. “m-o-o-n. the moon. the princess must have it as soon as possible. by today or tomorrow.”

the man wipes the sweat on his forehead. “i have got a great many things for you in my time, your majesty. ivory, apes, and peacocks, rubies, opals, and emeralds, black orchids, pink elephants, and blue poodles, gold bugs, scarabs, and flies in amber, hummingbirds’ tongues, angels’ feathers, and unicorns’ horns, giants, midgets, and mermaids, frankincense, ambergris, and myrrh, troubadors, minstrels, and dancing women.”

“i don’t remember any blue poodles?”

“they went under my care after you asked for a different pet, my king.” the man answers, pulling out a photo of himself with two blue poodles sitting on his lap. the king squints, then shrugs with a grimace on his face.

“anyhow, what i want now is the moon.”

as much as he hates not being able to get something for the king, he doesn’t want to make a promise he knows he won’t be able to keep. “i have crossed countries to get things for you, my king. however, the moon is out of the question. it is 35,000 miles away and it is bigger than the room the princess lies in. furthermore, it is made of molten copper. i cannot get the moon for you. blue poodles, yes; the moon, no.”

the king flies into a rage and orders him to leave the room and to bring in the royal wizard.

the royal wizard is a short, thin man with a long face. he wore a high red peaked hat covered with silver stars, and a long blue robe covered with golden owls. his face grows pale when the king tells him that he wants the moon for his daughter, and that he expects the royal wizard to get it.

“nobody can get the moon,” the royal wizard says nervously. “it is 150,000 miles away, and it is made of green cheese, and it is twice as big as the palace.”

the king flies into another rage and sends the royal wizard back to his cave. then he summons the royal mathematician next.

“i want you to figure out how to get the moon for the princess. when she gets the moon, she will be well again.”

“the moon is 300,000 miles away,” says the royal mathematician. “it is round and flat like a coin, only it is made of asbestos, and it is half the size of this kingdom. furthermore, it is pasted on the sky. nobody can get the moon.”

the king flies into still another rage and sends the royal mathematician away. he sinks into his throne in despair. “every time i ask someone for the moon, it gets larger and farther away. nobody can get it for my princess. i am a useless father.”

the royal guards standing in the room hang their head. they have been watching him bend himself backwards to make his daughter all better, but nothing has worked.

the king’s day gets even worse when he is informed that for past weeks, visitors from surrounding kingdoms have been made victims of the rampant thieves in the public market. seemingly, non-residents are the targeted victims of these bandits. perhaps to purposely taint the name of the kingdom and damage its relationship with neighboring kingdoms. the news has reached their respective kings, and he has to reach out to them personally to apologize and make up for the crime done against their people.

—

you awake early in the morning when your father knocks on your door, and with a frail voice, you invite him to come in.

a tall young man with dark hair, probably the same age as you or a few years older, trails behind him wearing a uniform similar to those of the royal guards, but with contrasting differences. amidst your confusion regarding his identity, you can’t help but to admit that he is undeniably one of the most beautiful people you have ever seen.

“i apologize for disturbing you this early, my princess. i have to depart on a long journey to take care of matters with our neighboring kingdoms, to preserve our allyship with them. the council will hold down the fort while i’m gone. it might take weeks, even months.” he strokes your hair fondly, and your eyes threaten to close from the drowsiness still resting in your spine.

“have you gotten me the moon yet?”

“regretfully, i haven’t. but as i go along this journey, i will also find a way to give you the moon. no matter what happens, my child.”

you feel a tug in your heart, but you still force a smile to avoid further hurting your father. your condition has affected him drastically, and you will carry that guilt for as long as you live. “don’t worry about me, father. i will wait for you however long it takes. please stay safe and healthy in your journey.”

he tries to speak, but the lump in his throat restricts him from doing so. he only nods, holding back his tears. he hates showing how weak he is. he wants you to trust in him that everything will be okay. he doesn’t want to further break your spirit.

“by the way, this is jungkook.” the king finally introduces the young man beside him.

“it’s my honor to serve you, your highness.” jungkook bows to you as a sign of respect.

“i know you don’t like royal guards loitering around your room. however, with the continuous crimes in our kingdom, i’m afraid someone might endanger your life while i’m away. from now on, jungkook will be watching over you and only you. he is well-trained and trusted, since he is also the son of our head chef of two decades.”

you still hate the idea of a pair of eyes watching over you 24/7, be it some doe eyes that naturally sparkles belonging to a beautiful boy. but your father is doing this for his peace of mind as well, so you bite your tongue from complaining. with a kiss on your forehead, the king leaves the room, and then his territory.

—

jungkook has a sweet smile, you observed for the first two weeks. you don’t hate his presence as much as you thought you would. he smiles whenever you call his name. he guards the door of your room from outside, occasionally he comes in to inspect your room and balcony. sometimes you ask him to stay to keep you company as you read or draw. he helps you come back to bed after your bath even though it’s wendy’s, your servant, job.

“you may leave, wendy. thank you.” you say as you sit down on your bed. she bows and leaves the room.

jungkook notices the drops of water still dripping from the ends of your hair. he hands you a towel from the top of the cabinet. “your hair is still wet, your highness. it might be uncomfortable for you to lay down.” you stare at his extended hand. he swallows nervously. “shall i call wendy for you?”

you shake your head and turn your back on him. a few seconds of silence as he tries to understand what you want him to do. “i give you permission to touch me.”

“princess?” he stutters, but sits down on the space behind you to comply. “are you sure?”

“go on. before my headache comes.” you encourage him, straightening your back to make it easier for him since he’s much taller than you. you can’t help but to smile at how gentle he is, as if losing a strand of your hair would be an unforgivable crime.

“i won’t break, you know? i’m very weak, but i won’t fall into pieces.”

“your highness, your strength is admirable.” jungkook says with utmost sincerity. he hears you from the outside, when you scream and cry at the splitting headache that comes in waves. the servant tends to you, and you drink medicine that alleviates the pain. you encounter this pain almost everyday. it comes randomly, until it started hindering you from doing your day to day activities. you hate it the most when it visits you while you eat.

it’s nauseating. exhausting. infuriating. it makes you want to die. but most of all, it pains you how your condition has negatively affected others as well. money, resources, time, energy, effort. all wasted on you. they say you are the princess after all, you deserve the best of care. but you don’t count yourself special or important. you’re just like everyone else, a person with imperfections and dreams and hopes. and alas, you had succumbed to the limits of being a human.

“thank you, jungkook.” strength? you have no more left of that, but you also amaze yourself when you survive each passing day. “you can talk to me casually. like wendy does. it’s more comfortable for me as well.”

“princess-”

you interrupt him by speaking your name. you repeat it once more. “you can call me by my name like i do yours, jungkook.”

it feels foreign on his tongue, but it’s the sweetest song you’ve ever heard. you both smile without the other knowing. the daffodils crowded in a vase on your nightstand let out a dreamy sigh at the sight.

—

wendy wipes the sweat off your forehead, down to your temples and collarbones as you cry against your pillow. you don’t- you don’t have the energy to scream today. it’s too painful for you to scream. it’s the type of pain that paralyzes even your tongue, every nerve in your body. you want to get rid of your head and find a brand new one. how wonderful would that be?

“it will be over soon. the king shall come back with the moon, and this will be over.” says wendy earnestly, stroking your back in a futile attempt to console you. you grip the sheets tighter, cold hands trembling as the waves slowly wash down. you force yourself to look at the night sky where the moon lies. the pearls falling from your eyes twinkle against the moonlight.

“wendy, would it be selfish of me to say i no longer want to be saved?”

silence falls upon for you a moment. with a heavy heart, wendy says, “absolutely not. the princess has never been selfish for a day in her life.”

—

jungkook is mesmerized by the way you hold the pencil. your hand never seizes even when your eyes are not on your sketchpad, but the subject. the subject being the plate of fruits they served you an hour ago. strawberries, grapes, mangoes, and bananas.

“do you want some fruits?” you ask him out of nowhere, breaking the thick silence in your room accompanied by the rustling of leaves and birds chirping outside.

“what?”

you snort at how blunt his accent sounds, far from the purposely low and formal tone he used to talk with. “the fruits. help yourself.” he doesn’t move from his spot. you finally tear your eyes away from your sketchpad and look at him with wide eyes. “go on. don’t worry, i’m done drawing.”

“aren’t you going eat them?” he asks worriedly, thinking about how you also barely touched your breakfast.

you shake your head. “however, i can’t finish everything. so you have to help me not waste food.” you set down your sketchpad next to the plate, popping a green grape in your mouth as jungkook seats infront of you. you smile in amusement at how awkward and stiff he looks.

“you can make yourself comfortable. like you’ve been visiting a friend’s house everyday for the past month. it’s only me here.”

you are very kind and friendly, jungkook thinks. you speak to everyone as if they’re a longtime friend and you want them to feel comfortable around you as much as possible, despising being treated like you’re a fragile piece of glass. you love people, that’s why he knows you must’ve been feeling excruciatingly lonely since you’ve fallen ill. and so he also pulls a green gape from its stem and lets the sweet nectar spread on his tongue.

“try the strawberries! they are the most delicious, from the farm half a kilometer to the right of the public market. i used to go strawberry picking there. i miss mister kim dearly.” your voice starts out cheery, then gradually turns sad. you bite off half of the strawberry you’re holding.

“oh, i used to visit mister kim’s farm too! my mother likes visiting the farms she personally gets fresh ingredients from and i tag along.”

a sweet smile forms on your lips at the mention of jungkook’s mother, and he is swept off his feet. “your mother is the best. i have never had an unsatisfactory meal in my life. never.”

“i count myself very lucky to eat her cooking everyday as well. she’s been trying out new recipes to serve you, princess.”

“oh, this is my first time hearing about that! i’m excited to taste them when they are ready to be served. i’m sure they will be scrumptious.”

you brush off the title. it would take some time for him to get entirely comfortable with you like you hope, and it can be something for you to look forward to. you don’t have much to look forward to these days.

jungkook can’t help but to casually take a glance at your sketchpad. he is thoroughly impressed by your drawing style. the attention to detail and shading at the all right places, the addition of doodles, how it reflects on your character.

you notice it, of course. “what do you think?”

he looks up to you, surprised of getting caught. he smiles sheepishly. “you are very talented. i see you drawing everyday, so my curiosity has been growing.”

you place the sketchpad on his lap. “feel free to browse through them. it would be nice for other people to see my drawings other than wendy. she must be getting tired of them.” you laugh lightly, biting on another strawberry.

“oh, i count this as a big honor. i draw and paint myself, and i know how our works can be extremely personal to us. thank you for trusting me.” his pretty doe eyes become wider, and you can’t help but to admire them. your hands itch to draw them and keep it in your memory box. to learn that he draws and paints leaves you even more deeply captivated by him. on top of his obvious skills in martial arts (he has a very impressive physique, 100% trusts him with your life) and swordsmanship, the requirements needed to serve as a royal guard in the kingdom.

“wow, you are an all-rounder. how can you be talented in so many areas of art?” you start gushing as he flips through your works. there are many drawings of the public market - the vendors, the products for sale, the children playing games on the dusty ground. different angles of the garden, the large swing hidden at the back of the castle, two birds hugging on a branch of a cherry tree. he paints them with colors in his mind, and they come to life as the bustling public market and a windy spring day. “what do you usually paint?”

“it varies, of course. since we live in a town with diverse and abundant blessings of nature, they are the main inspiration of my paintings. i guess we can say my works mostly lean towards the impressionism approach and technique. however, there are also times when i go the opposite way - i use bright colors and abstract shapes. it doesn’t depict anything particular in the real world, but only the image and meaning it has in my mind. i accept commissions, too. i like that my passion is also a source of living. it doesn’t feel like a job.”

aside from wendy, jungkook is the only person you’ve had a proper conversation with for the past months. your father has restricted you to your bedroom after all the attempts to heal your headaches failed. you understood that he was afraid of you having an attack in the middle of a compromised situation where you either receive no help or the surrounding factors only worsen your condition.

you are entranced the whole time he speaks. eyes trailing to his eyes, nose, lips; his delicate fingers flipping through the pages of your works, softly tracing the drawing of a smiling baby holding a daisy.

you turn your head towards your open balcony, where the garden stretched out beyond your view looks more beautiful than the last time you set foot on it. it is autumn after all. the servants are hard at work sweeping the fallen leaves, but it proves to be fruitless as a gust of wind passes by and more leaves dance as they settle on the ground.

“your drawings are magnificent, princess. you have a good eye and very special talent.”

jungkook’s heart flutters when you look at him with wide eyes filled with a lust for life as you spoke, “what if i draw you, and you paint me? at the garden. tomorrow.”

the idea piques his interest, but he is aware that you haven’t gone out of the castle in quite a long time. the king didn’t particularly instruct him to permit you from leaving, he reasons with himself. but he still can’t help but to worry.

“at the garden? what if you get a headache in the middle of it?”

“then we let it pass, and we continue again. if i don’t get out of this room soon, my illness won’t be the one to kill me, but the boredom will.”

you look so excited and hopeful, thirsty for a taste of the arts and life outside. how can he say no to you?

“then why not today?” he tilts his head, and you break out into a smile.

“the sun is about to set and your shift will be over soon. i don’t want to take up your free time. anyway, i love autumn mornings.”

you love autumn mornings, he makes a mental note. there’s no use in denying he would also like to spend the whole day with you, so he agrees. and he knows he made the right decision when your face lights up, the happiest he has ever seen you.

—

wendy watches from the other side of the tall castle doors as you drag jungkook by his forearm, happily running through the garden as you both carry your respective art materials. as if you didn’t fall asleep at 4am through your pounding headache clutching at her servant’s uniform. you woke up with a smile on your face, telling her that you’re spending time with jungkook at the garden today. and she didn’t have the heart to interject. she has been a silent observer. she has seen the stolen glances, the shy smiles, the casual attempts of keeping his presence with you.

your giggles are contagious, like a song that can lift up anyone’s mood. the royal garden is almost like a maze with how vast it is and how diverse the species of plants are. he understands how you grew up to be a person filled with wonder, love, and positivity. you practically lived here instead of your room since you were a child, he remembers his mother talking about you fondly.

you both set down your materials against a tree. you slip off your shoes, leaving them behind as you waltz around the garden, gathering flowers. your dress that stops above your ankles flows gracefully, and your hair slightly blows from the wind. he picks up your shoes and follows you idly.

“do you want to hold flowers in the painting?” he asks curiously. the various colors of dahlias catch his attention, and he can’t help to touch a pink one in admiration.

“do you want me to?” you turn to look at him, hands occupied by lavender, larkspur, baby’s breath, and eucalyptus. “this is for your flower crown.” you smile when you notice he’s not very sure how to respond. “i’ll make it for you. you’ll look pretty in it. don’t worry!”

pretty. that’s not an adjective usually used to compliment a man, but it made him feel flattered more than he expected.

jungkook is leaning against the tree, switching between watching the wonderful view of the garden and you, who is keeping your focus on creating his flower crown.

“be careful with the wire.” he reminds you for the fifth time which makes you giggle. “do you need some help?”

you shake your head. “i want to finish it on my own. i’m gathering small victories today. stepping out of the castle, making a flower crown, drawing a pretty adonis.”

your words sure does something to him. his nose scrunches in shyness. “you’re doing so well, princess.”

“thank you, pretty adonis.”

in all honesty, you’re slightly on edge. he hasn’t seen you cry and curl up in pain, and it would be embarrassing if the headache hits in the middle of your artsy autumn day. but you try your best to brush it off to make the most out of this rare occasion granted to you.

you place the flower crown on his head, fixing up the hair infront of his eyes a little. “yay, it’s finished!”

“how do i look? pretty?” he gives you a bunny smile, and you resist the urge to pinch his cheeks.

“pretty,” you answer. “do you want to see? let’s go to the pond!” you don’t let him answer. you immediately stand up and tug at his forearm again, and eventually you’re dragging him on the other side of the garden.

you bend down together to look at your reflections. he looks at himself from both left and right, delicately tucking his hair behind his ear. “you made a beautiful flower crown, princess. have you always made them?” you hum as an answer, too busy looking at all the fishes swimming around the pond. you haven’t seen them in forever.

“let’s go out again tomorrow and feed the fishes. i haven’t done that in so long.”

“of course. whatever makes the princess happy.”

“aren’t you glad you no longer have to stand in one place for the whole day anymore? i imagine you were becoming inanimate from the extreme boredom.” truly, you felt bad for him. standing outside on the hallway and getting pushed aside by servants when you ring the bell signalling the pain is at its worst and you need attending to, to having to continue standing there on guard as your weeping crawls through the cracks of your door. then standing inside your room beside the door or the balcony, as you knit or read or study or draw - striking up small talks here and there or taking a nap.

“i must admit, i am enjoying the garden more than the castle hallway.” he chuckles, feeling lighter after seeing how the flower crown looked on him. “you look more beautiful with the sunlight on your face.”

it’s his turn to make you blush. you lightly hit his arm jokingly. “my room’s poor lighting does not do my beauty justice, does i- fuck!” you lose your balance for a bit, almost falling in the pond but jungkook’s fast reflexes saves you from complete embarrassment.

you both fall on your asses on the ground, chest heaving from the shock. you look at each other before you burst out laughing. “i didn’t know you use curse words!”

“of course i do. just don‘t tell my father! he uses them but prohibits me from doing the same. a hypocrite.”

he fakes a gasp and shocked face. you giggle. “we’re all a bit hypocrital, don’t you think? i know i am.”

“i think so too.” he admits with a laugh. it’s his turn to grab your forearm to pull you up, but you stay rooted in your place and look up to him. you capture a mental image of how he looks tall from this angle, how he is blocking the sun, and how he is holding the flower crown to his head to prevent it from falling. then you let him pull up your weight.

—

you came back to your previous spot under the tree with jungkook leaning on it, and you sitting directly infront of him, the closest you’ve ever been. you wanted to focus on drawing the details of his face.

“you have a defined jaw. like of the greek gods. it’s attractive. i like it.”

“thank you.” he smiles. again. your bluntness is refreshing, at the same time a little overwhelming. he has heard a lot of things about you, with you being the princess of the land and all. the smile on your face never leaves. you play with children and buy them food. you like listening to the townspeople’s folk stories. and everyone is fond of you. he finally understands why, it’s because of your transparent honesty. it is, without a doubt, what draws everyone into you.

he is mesmerized by the way the sunlight kisses your skin, and how blissfully unaware you are of your surroundings as you immerse yourself in your drawing. and him, the muse. “i also like your nose.”

“really? that’s the first compliment it has gotten. my family teases me that i’m adopted because i’m the only one who has a big nose.”

you react as if it’s the most ridiculous thing you have ever heard. “what? it’s perfect! it’s my favorite feature of your face!”

“you like it that much?“ if you keep going at this rate, he doesn’t think he won’t be able to stop himself from liking you.

you flip the sketchpad and show your progress so far, mostly finished with his face and hair, with only rough outlines of his neck and the flower crown yet. “how is it so far?”

he tilts his head. “you have golden hands. i think drawing jungkook looks better than the real jungkook.”

“not true. you give me too much credit.” you wave him off, biting your lower lip as you continue with drawing.

you learn some things about him as you busy yourself. he crossed a rainbow in his dream last night. his favorite color is black. his brother recently got married and is having a baby in seven months. the fortune teller said it’s going to be a girl. their father got slightly disappointed. every father wants a son and every grandfather wants a grandson. that’s how it is in this world.

“my father was also the same. but he said he had a change of heart when i spoke my first word.”

“what was your first word?”

“king.” you answer with a laugh. you’re not sure yourself if it was sarcastic or not. jungkook looks at you with an emotion you can’t name, but you keep the smile on your face and show him the finished drawing. “i’m finished. we can have lunch now.”

he takes it from your hand to inspect it from a much closer angle. you hold your breath in anticipation. your eyes land on the tattoos on his right hand. you start wondering if they’re also his own drawings. “i love it. i can’t explain it well, but also looking at your other drawings, you see something special in every person and you incorporate that in a special way in your works.”

jungkook is the first person to make you feel truly seen, you think, as you spend more days in the garden bathing in each other’s artistic bliss. he taught you how to use watercolors one day, you drew the pond and he did a painting of it the next. you made it a daily thing to feed the fishes. your drawings of him are kept neatly in between the pages of his treasured journal under his pillow at home. a painting of you laying down on the swing as you read a book hangs on the wall outside your room. and another of you looking down from your balcony hangs beside your vanity. he refused the money you tried to give for his service, claiming that his pay as your guard is already more than enough. today, he paints another one of you holding a white lily against your chest on the first snowfall.

“lily is the flower of death. this is the most alive i’ve felt in a long time. i want everyone to remember me like this. for when the time comes, no matter how old i am.”

he despises the idea of such a beautiful soul departing the earth. it makes his stomach turn. but you were smiling as you said those words, and behind that smile he knows you’re still suffering inside. the headaches started to only come at night, you told him. that’s why you take a lot of naps in the garden, guarded by him, of course.

in all honestly, you have started to feel like the moon is mocking you, for being high up in the sky while you can barely lift your head up from your pillow. and you’re not quite sure if you still want it anymore. but everyone is trying their best for you. your father has exhausted all options. and wanting the moon is giving them hope that perhaps you will still get better.

“aren’t you cold?” he worriedly asks, the hand holding the paintbrush pausing. you’re wearing a thick matching sky blue hat and coat over a long white dress, feet covered by brown winter boots. your gloved hands patiently holds the white lily.

you smile and scrunch your nose when a snowflake lands on it, shaking your head. “no? don’t i look like a winter fairy?”

“you are the fairy of every season.”

“poetic,” you tease him. “and because of that, i’ll personally make you hot chocolate in the royal kitchen.”

and that you did. after the painting session, you waltz into the royal kitchen and make two mugs of hot chocolate. his mother holds your hand as the running cold water soothes the burn on your fingers, from when you accidentally touched a pot fresh from the fire. you hang your head in embarrassment.

jungkook sees you from afar, both hands occupied. he puts down the paintbrush after adding some finishing touches to the painting. the sky has turned grey, and the lamps light up one by one as you approach the swing.

you hand him the mug filled almost to the brim, and sit down holding yours, filled only halfway. he is about to take a sip before, “blow on it first. i don’t want you to burn your mouth.” his slightly opened lips slowly pucker up, blowing lightly on the hot beverage. what an adorable idiot.

he takes a sip once he deems it warm, face lighting up at the sweet delightful taste washing over his tongue. his body and heart instantly feel warmer. you also take a sip from your mug while looking at his reaction. “i like how it has the right amount of sweetness. my mother goes a little overboard with it sometimes.”

you laugh loudly at his unexpected confession. to expose such information regarding the head chef to the princess is ballsy. you’ve grown significantly closer to each other, the distances between you getting smaller as days pass by. “don’t tell her i said that though! she doesn’t talk to me for weeks when she gets upset!”

“i’m not sure. it might come up one of these days. she was there when i made these.” you speak in a sing-song voice, swinging your feet back and forth.

he stifles a gasp, putting a hand over his heart in pretend pain. “you’re not going to betray me like this, are you?”

“you know i like talking to people. you should think before y-”

it lasts for a few seconds, his plush pink lips against yours. it is sudden, but you swear time stops, until he pulls away slightly breathless. “is that the only way to keep you from talking?”

you blink, still processing what he had done. your grip on the handle of the mug tightens. and then you nod, eyes meeting his, then down to his lips. “do it again. until i become sick of it.”

since when has hot chocolate made a person drunk? or is he simply drunk on you? he gets his answer when he kisses you again, and this time, you respond with a much more intense fervor. of course, it’s you.

—

“you can’t take painkillers tonight. you know you can only have them every now and then. too much is always harmful.”

your shoulders drop at wendy’s words, hands coming up to your pounding head. you feel the tears start to surface. “wendy?”

“what?” she fixes the pillows behind your back.

“you know how i’ve been spending everyday with jungkook?”

“i know. you started autumn, and it’s already winter.”

you bite back a smile through your pain, wiping away the tears that escaped. “it’s weird. i feel alive and healthy when i’m with him, but once he’s out of sight, that’s when the pain comes. it doesn’t make much sense to me.” she pulls up your fluffy blanket all the way to your chest, climbing up on your bed to watch over you. wendy is in her middle 20’s. and she has been spending it taking care of you. you feel guilty robbing off her golden years.

“does it hurt?” she strokes your head with delicate hands.

“hurts so much that i feel numb to it.” it also affects your hearing, like you’re submerged underwater. you close your eyes to lessen the workload your brain is dealing with. it is suffering enough. “i don’t want to conclude that he makes the pain go away. i admit that i like him more than a friend. so i don’t want to reduce his presence in my life to a cure. he is much more special than that.”

“then don’t, my love. you feel alive and happy when you’re with him. just leave it at that, and don’t overanalyze it.” she glances at the single lily in the vase placed on your nightstand. “continue being happy. that’s the true cure.”

—

your upper body slumps over the giant ball of snow, the very bottom of the snowman you and jungkook are making. except he is the only one making the next one because you already got tired from the one you’re resting on.

he is sitting on the ground, the red beanie with a fluffball on the top sitting on his head stands out in the white wonderland. you made him ditch the itchy guard uniform when the weather started to get colder, before the snow even fell. he wears overalls when he paints. it’s your favorite on him. you watch him gather snow from around him with an amused smile. whatever it is he does, he does diligently. protecting you, painting you, making a snowman with you.

while he keeps himself busy, you remove yourself from the big lump of snow. you use it as a hiding spot, crouching behind it to make some snowballs without him seeing. he gets a bit nervous when he sees that you’re not where you’ve been for the past fifteen minutes.

he calls out your name. you don’t move a muscle. “where did you go?!” he stands up to begin searching for you, and it serves as the perfect opportunity for you to hit him with your snowballs, made with care and affection. one hits him on the shoulder, the other on his stomach. he clutches it in shock, wide doe eyes looking at your laughing figure in horror.

“you’re going to pay for this!” you scream and run for your life when he starts chasing you with the big ball of snow he has been working on, two sets of different footprints drawing an image of a wonderful time all over the royal garden.

you thought that you can make your great escape to the castle, but your feet eventually give up and you fall down on your back. he finds you making a snow angel when he finally catches up to you. he drops the giant snowball to lay beside you, copying your movements and moving his limbs back and forth.

both your giggles fill the chilly air, and you can see your breath.

“jungkook?”

he hums in question.

your heart feels like it’s going to jump out of your chest. but you’re feeling carefree and bold. “i think you already know, but i really like you.”

his body hovers over you, his face so close to yours. he gives you his famous bunny smile. “i know. i really like you too.” you pull him by the collar for a kiss, his lips slightly chappy from the cold but you couldn’t care less. it feels so good to have someone this close, this sweet. his tongue begs for entrance, and without inhibition, you let him meet yours.

you pull away biting your lower lip, suddenly feeling warm all over. and you can’t fight the urge to also give his nose a kiss.

he haven’t told you this yet, but he likes it when you do that. “you might like my nose an abnormal amount.”

you smile shyly. “i told you it’s my favorite part.”

“while we’re in the topic, we lost the carrot nose for the snowman.”

you groan at his statement. “it’s your turn to steal from the kitchen.”

—

the plants slowly recover from the winter season and the flowers that died are ready to sprout again for the spring. the headaches have gradually become less intense and less frequent - manageable to a degree. the royal physician said that you look much healthier than the last time he saw you, and that the fresh air is doing you good. from a corner, jungkook was relieved to hear that. you are finally getting better.

you think about your father, who must be traversing the entire country to find someone who can get you the moon. you pray that he comes home soon, for you no longer need the moon, but a father.

today, with a basket hanging on your forearm, you drag jungkook’s hand until you step out of the castle gate. you chirp out a good afternoon and the royal guards bow down automatically. with a radiant look on your face, you say, “i need to buy some things from the market.”

you are practically prancing during the entire walk. “what are we shopping for?” he asks in curiosity, two steps behind you as you casually twirl in the middle of the path.

“fresh bread. pencils. ribbons. maybe new shoes! or dress?”

you sound so enthusiastic, and you are where jungkook finds joy these days. he feels honored to be a part of your first times in forever. as much as it makes him sound like a lovesick fool, he’d let you drag him to the ends of the earth.

you squeal in excitement when you see a grey bunny run through the bushes, quickly pointing it to him. “bunnies are so adorable!”

he catches up to you, sliding his hand on your waist. you look down on it and hide a tight-lipped smile. “do you want one as a pet?”

“we had bunnies before, but one bit my father’s finger so they were banned inside the castle.” you continue walking as you tell him the story. a few passersby look at you with recognition. “it was his fault though! he hurt it while playing around. i love him, but he can be quite ridiculous at times.”

he chuckles at your whiny voice. “relationships with parents are complicated. they do many things that are not agreeable, but the love stands out at the end of the day.” you nod along to his words, since you’ve heard about his arguments with his parents as well.

“i’m worried about him. it’s been months and months.”

he gives you delicate head pats to comfort you. “he will come home soon. he won’t let his daughter miss him too much.” that gains him a kiss on the nose.

he scratches the back of his head, and you giggle at his bashfulness. “you are insufferable.”

—

jungkook looks at you and the accessories stand vendor back and forth as you agree with whatever the other is saying.

“a woman can also buy her lover a ring, right jungkook?”

“right, your highness! exactly!” the middle-aged woman butts in, eager to sell her products to the princess. this can attract more customers, she thinks as people take a second to stop and watch you.

you take jungkook’s big hand in yours, sliding a silver ring in each of his three longest fingers. “so do you want the bear, the engraved crescent moons, or this plain black circle?” you grab another ring on the red clothed table and show him. “this dagger one looks good too.” he gives you his other hand voluntarily, and it fits just right on his index finger. he takes his time looking at each ring before reaching a decision.

“i like the dagger and the moon the best.”

“yes, yes. very neat choices. you chose a man with exquisite taste, princess.” the vendor rambles, handing him two velvet boxes for his chosen rings. you open your basket and he drops them inside. you move on to other stands after paying.

you lace your hands with him to not lose each other in the sea of crowd. you smile at everyone who greets you and ignore the knowing looks they send at your interlaced hands. the princess stepping out of the castle in more than a year, holding hands with a man of no royal position. you know that’s what they’re thinking. people thrive off gossip afterall.

he shows you his ring clad hand, the one also decorated with ink. his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, a few tattoos scattered on his forearm. “i appreciate the rings you bought me. i shall wear them everyday from now on.”

“i’m glad you like them. i’ll get upset if i see you not wearing them.” you warn him jokingly.

you buy the things you intended to get. pencils from your usual stationery shop. a new dress from a shop you haven’t seen before. one of jungkook’s favorite things about you is when you twirl, and your dress flows naturally. it’s a habbit of yours that has grown on him. then ribbons from your cousin’s small business stand. she spends quite some time hugging you and teasing you about jungkook, until you bring up her past lover. apparently they broke up in autumn.

you use a purple ribbon right away, typing the upper half of your hair. “pretty?”

jungkook tucks your hair behind your ear. “pretty,” and then he’s leading you somewhere without saying anything.

“hey! where are we going?”

he brings in the middle of an alley, hidden from the crowd of prying eyes. you lean on the wall and set down your basket on the ground, now feeling the slight pain on your feet from all the walking. “i haven’t kissed you today.” he juts out his bottom lip, craving some more affection today.

so he asks for kisses now. you have come a long way and it makes you giddy. “come kiss me then, lover boy.” with a hand on the side of your neck and the other around your waist pulling you closer to his body, he kisses you deeply. you clutch at the cloth of his shirt to ground yourself, getting lost in the way he is making you feel. every kiss only gets better, only drives you crazier.

being free is different from being liberated. in a world where women experiencing simple pleasures is discussed in hushed conversations, you found a man who is more than willing to indulge you. and you welcome him with open arms. his lips trail down to your jaw until they reach your neck, placing kisses before sinking his teeth into your skin, soothing it with a lick of his tongue.

you breath out his name shakily, hand tugging at his dark locks when he then starts to suck and play with his tongue. “hmm, that feels good.” his actions shoot pleasure through your spine, tingles all over your body like you’ve never felt before. once he’s satisfied with the marks he left, he kisses you on the lips again. you feel him tug at the ribbon behind your head, letting your long hair fall down. he pulls away with a cheeky smile on his face, using your hair to cover up the hickeys he left on your neck.

“you did more than just kiss.” the sight of your blown pupils awakens something in him, but he holds down his masculine urges.

“did you like it?” he brushes your hair using his fingers. you nod your head, arms wrapping around his waist for an embrace. “do it again next time.”

he leans his cheek on the top of your head. “for my love.”

—

the last thing in the list is bread. the vendor at the bread stand is an unfamiliar face which saddens you, but you do what you’ve done so many times before and buy off the entire day’s worth of their different kinds of bread. you put some in your basket. then distribute the others to the children playing nearby, the children selling trinkets and lanterns and homemade treats.

you think you start falling deeper for jungkook as you watch him interacting with them, carrying a three-year-old against his hip and feeding her tiny bites. a small boy tugs at your dress, mouth full and open palms. you laugh at his antics. “okay, here’s some more. share with your siblings, okay?” he nods obediently, running to his brothers and sisters hugging the food.

—

jungkook hasn’t processed how this happened. to be exact, you eating dinner with his parents in their house. they’re both warm and welcoming, keeping you entertained with stories about their children. his mother cooked the food, of course.

you walked back to the castle hand in hand, already at the gates when you suggested that you wanted to visit his home. and then suddenly he was in between you and his mother walking to the path towards their house. it was almost like a giant cottage, with vegetables planted at the front yard. it has five rooms, the three currently vacant with the rest of his siblings already married.

of course, his parents already know that the two of you are in a relationship. basically, the entire castle knows. but they keep you comfortable and treat you with utmost care, avoiding topics that will bring down your spirit.

the moon is peeking from the window, watching over the dinner table. he keeps looking at you with worry despite all the smiles and giggles.

“you can stay the night if you want, princess. it’s quite dangerous and scary outside if you walk all the way back to the castle.”

you look at jungkook for his approval of his mother’s suggestion, and he nods with a smile, stroking your hair. unconsciously, he gathers them to fall over your back, revealing the marks he left on you earlier. his father drinks some water to hide the smile on his face, and his mother elbows at his side to scold him. you stand up to get him more water when he chokes and gets into coughing fit. the mother and son nag at him for being careless.

you come out of the bathroom drying your hair with a towel, body clad in jungkook’s clothes. his shirt is almost like a dress, so it also works. he perks up from his seat, taking it upon himself to dry your hair instead. his parents already retreated to their room because they need to wake up early for work. “where do you want to sleep? my sister’s room is pink. do you wake up in the middle of sleeping from the headaches too?”

you shake your head. “beside you. and not anymore.”

“okay. i’ll watch over you until you fall asleep.” he kisses your temple from behind before reaching for your hand, bringing you to his room, the last door on the right.

your basket is resting on top of his organized but crowded desk. his bed is against the wall, just right for two people, with two pillows and a thick blanket. beside is a small cabinet with a lamp sitting on top of it. infront of the bed is a window with a view of the backyard - the clothing line, potted plants, and a field stretched forward for more than a hundred meters.

you choose to lay down on the spot beside the wall, it makes you feel safer.

“come to bed quickly. i want to hug.” you pout at jungkook, patting the space beside you. he places a pitcher of water and a glass on his desk.

“want to see something cool first?”

you squint at him in suspicion. “what is it?”

he flips down the light switch. in the midst of the pitch dark, a faint light coming from his ceiling catches your attention. “they’ve been there since i was six. but i’m too lazy to remove them even when i became an adult so they’re still there.”

you gape at the glow in the dark stars and the big crescent moon in the middle. you finally understand why he chose the ring engraved with crescent moons. he lays down next to you as you keep your eyes on the celestial bodies pasted on his ceiling. “no wonder you cross rainbows and talk to trees in your dreams. this is nice.”

he makes you use his arm as a pillow, and you put your arm over his stomach. “well, what do you dream about?”

“i usually don’t remember my dreams. the one that sticked out the most was when a troll my father kept in the dungeon escaped and chased after me.”

“god, that sounds horrible.” his body vibrates with his chuckles. “you smell like me.”

“well, you made me use your bath essentials.”

“i like it,” he hums, turning on his side to embrace you. and you’re glad that he did, because you gradually feel a headache looming over. your temples start to throb painfully. you swallow in panic. this has never happened with jungkook. this is the first time in the five months he’s been beside you. however, you stay quiet and only snuggle to him closer. no one can magically make it go away, you finally realized. not even him. and somehow, that makes you feel relieved.

there’s no other option but to let it pass, so you don’t want to put him in unnecessary distress. the forehead kiss he gives you is more than enough to get you by. you secretly wipe away the tears that escaped your eyes and eventually fall asleep an hour after him.

spending the night over at jungkook’s house became a regular thing, sleeping at the castle for only three nights a week. jungkook invited wendy to stay in one of the vacant rooms, but she declined even with your persuading.

you feel loved and cared for in their home, as if you are a part of their family. in contrast to silent dinners with your father sitting on the other side of the ridiculously long dinner table, dinners with the jeons are lively and filled with a feeling you can only call contentment. they don’t teach you that concept in the castle.

you and his father spend time together tending to their vegetables. carrots, cabbage, radish, potatoes, green onions, and more. jungkook occupies himself training with the punching bag in the corner when that happens.

“i used to train him when he was younger, but now he’s much stronger than me. it’s the most upsetting thing about growing old. brittle bones and declining muscles.” he shakes his head at the sight of his son trying to impress his girlfriend infront of his own father, but also lifts him up anyway.

in the afternoon, you visit the public market and help the children with their homework. teaching them together has shown you how long can jungkook’s patience run. he sighs when he’s starting to get annoyed with the unrecognizable doodles they paint on his arms with ink instead of learning how to count from eleven to twenty or why the plants need the sun. but you have a fun time with the game you play afterwards - guessing the things they drew on him.

your sleeping positions with jungkook also have new variations. one day you woke up with his head on your chest, and then the other on your back as you face the wall. sometimes when you’re feeling particularly needy, you lay on top of him. when you’re having a headache, he peppers your face with kisses and strokes your hair until you get tired and fall asleep through the pain.

“it’s significantly better than before. i don’t even cry anymore, see?” you use his hand to pat your eyes. “so don’t worry about me too much.”

“you don’t deserve this pain. i wish i can make it go away.”

“you do, when you hug me.” so he hugs you some more.

you playfully bit his nose once and he bit your cheek as revenge. the marks he loves leaving on you are also all over your chest now, and he stops when you tell him enough, his cherry lips meeting yours again. you’re addicted at how his hazy eyes drink you in after.

—

you and jungkook venture back to the castle at noon, noticing more royal guards on the grounds than usual. you quickly look at each other in confusion before you smile and greet them.

a worried wendy stands infront of the door, who then runs toward you once she recognizes your approaching figure. “the king has arrived! he’s been waiting for you!”

your body moves faster than your brain, your feet carrying you to the throne room as fast they can. his back is facing you, catching up with a few of the council members.

“father!” he turns at the sound of your voice echoing in the room, and you jump on him with a hug. with a gleeful laugh and teary eyes, he spins you around. when he sets you down, you hold him by the shoulders.

“father, i’ve been healing. my health has improved drastically, and i’m very much happy. so i don’t need the moon anymore. i feel guilty for taking you away from the people, the people who needs their king. why were you gone for so long?” sobs rip out from your throat, falling apart in your father’s arms. you reminisce of everything that you’ve gone through. all the unspoken words and the insurmountable grief for what was lost translates into unrelenting cries.

“i apologize, my child, for making you wait a long time. i wasn’t going to come home without the moon. we fought monsters to meet with sorcerers living in the darkest forests and deepest caves, but not a single one gave us a positive answer. along the journey, i heard the news that you’ve healed and is living amongst the people again.” his eyes meet with jungkook, who changed into his royal guard uniform in record time. jungkook stiffens in his bowing position at his next words. “i also learned that you’ve made a very good friend.”

you pull away from him, wiping your tears with the back of your hands and following his gaze. “oh, a very good friend. jungkook has never neglected me. i am happy and healthy, father. exactly the way you’ve been praying to the gods.”

the king starts laughing like a mad man once he realized that he unintentionally brought the two of you together, which then led to your healing. you didn’t need the moon, but only love and care.

the entire room looks at him in concern. the wince on your face makes the council members cough back their laughter.

“ah, this is nothing! i am just overjoyed and thankful to the heavens that all is well again. this calls for a feast!”

—

the king calls for jungkook in the library to personally talk to him in private. the celebration is open for the general public; therefore, the party is being held inside the castle all the way to the garden. they both watch you from the window, surrounded by little children infront of the desserts section.

“i am relieving you of your royal duties. after all, i only begged your mother to serve the princess for a few weeks. obviously, weeks became months.” he pats jungkook on the shoulder, a fond smile etched on his face. “what i ask of you now is to take care of her as her man. i am unlike other kings who wed their daughters to princes to gain more power. i value her happiness over that. i also respect her individuality and independence. i let her live a life outside the castle because i don’t want to limit her world to a neglectful father who can’t attend to his responsibilities.”

“your majesty, i vow to love and care for the princess for as long as i live. i will not give you a reason to disapprove of me. i will work hard to make myself a man worthy of your daughter.”

“you already are to me. you brought back her bright smile. look.” he encourages jungkook to look at you again, dancing with a little boy who has a rose in between his teeth. he can’t help but to also smile at the scene unfolding. “no relationship is perfect. there will come a time when you make her cry, and she makes you cry. so i need you to remember this; what’s most important is that you learn how to admit when it’s your mistake.”

the king’s advice leaves a mark on jungkook.

—

only he didn’t exactly envision himself crying like this - at the sight of you in a white dress, walking down the aisle holding a bouquet of pink roses and lilies, white daisies, and lavender. he looks over at his side in embarrassment, a hand over his mouth. his best man pats him on the back, nodding with his eyes closed as if to say ‘i understand it’s an emotional time, but get it together brother.’ the sun is blazing hot on this august day, also an expectant guest who attended the venue. the field behind jungkook’s house.

“i think he’s taking this way too seriously.”

“isn’t he just acting?”

“he should be an actor at the theater.”

“he looks funny!”

“shhh, quiet!” the little boy who took the role of the priest shushes the small crowd of seated children watching the play wedding.

when you reach the altar, you can’t help but to giggle at the sight of jungkook’s tear-stained face, a hand reaching out to wipe his cheeks dry. “are you joking or are you seriously crying?”

“i refuse to satisfy that question with an answer.” he catches your hand and places it on the crook of his arm, patting it gently. “now let’s get married.” the crowd cheers, and you look at them with a joking threat.

the ceremony commences. the priest straightens the glasses that he stole from his father, clearing his throat. “dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join this man and this woman in holy ma-” he stutters at the next word, squinting at his script. “matrino- matrimony.”

“you’re doing great.” you whisper to him.

“really? thank you.” he crouches and whispers back before standing up straight again. jungkook stifles a laugh.

“jungkook, do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

“i do,” he answers while looking at you, a cheeky smile forming on his lips.

“___, do you take this man to be your husband, to live together, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?”

“i do,” you pinch his arm lightly when he winks at you.

the guests behind you start clapping and whistling. “kiss the bride!”

“just on the cheek! we’re children!”

“why cheek only? i want to see.”

the priest scolds them again, threatening to spray them with water. you bury your face in your hands at how outrageous this event is. “let them wear the rings first! we practiced this!”

you and jungkook face each other, the ring bearer entering the scene. on top of a small pillow are two silver rings, the thin one for you, and the thicker one for jungkook.

“the groom first. and repeat after me.”

he takes your left hand and slowly slides the ring on your ring finger, looking at you with loving eyes as he spoke. “i give you this ring as a token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love.”

then it’s your turn, except you have a hard time looking at his eyes because of the intensity of his stare. as if you’re legally getting married right now. you choose to focus on his neatly done eyebrows instead. “um, i give you this ring as a token and pledge of our constant faith and abiding love.”

“by virtue of the authority vested in me, i now pronounce you husband and wife. you may now kiss the bride.” the boy takes off the dizzying glasses and props his elbows on the table, watching the two of you eagerly as if you’re the stars of a romantic play at the local theater.

jungkook tilts your chin so you’re looking directly at him. you swallow nervously. “don’t give me that look.” you whisper shout.

“what look?” he acts innocently, batting his eyelashes.

“that look you give me when you basically eat me alive.”

the guests start complaining.

“what’s taking so long?”

“HURRY UP!”

“reminder! only on the cheeks, okay?”

“can you shut your mouth?”

jungkook finally kisses you. half of his lips touches yours, giving the side of the audience the illusion that he is only kissing the corner of your mouth. the priest slaps his forehead in dismay, popping out from the side and shaking his head.

this causes an uproar, jungkook defending himself with wild gestures of his hands. “i didn’t kiss her on the lips! you saw it, right? it was just here. that’s her skin. no lips!” you watch the commotion with a hand on your hips, sighing at the scene.

you wait for another five minutes, now sitting on one of the chairs as he defends himself against the court. he looks at you helplessly.

“everyone, i’m getting hungry. the reception is at the palace. shall we go now?”

of course, that diverts the attention of the children. they run off the field to ride the carriage, leaving you and jungkook behind.

“i’m starting to think they hate me!” he whines, snaking his arms around your waist to hug you tightly, nuzzling his face on your neck.

you laugh at his despair, patting his head. “that’s not true. kids like teasing people they’re fond of.” you give his nose a quick kiss, making him scrunch it adorably.

“can i kiss you properly now?”

you look around before shrugging. “sure, my love.” he holds your face in his hands and kisses you fully this time, his lips moving against yours in a steady rhythm. you end up looking like a pair of lovesick fools, smiling in the middle of a kiss.

“i’m still here, you know?”

you both gape in horror at the boy who wedded you, standing with his arms crossed and judging eyes weighing you down.

jungkook gulps nervously. “you did not see that.”

[shadowjax]

The Red Orchid

Heart Strings pt. 2

A03

{Previous}{Next}

Donna Beneviento x gender neutral reader/you

Series Summary: The head gardener has taken you under his wing and as you grew older you viewed him as a father figure. You and the young mistress grew close over time but due to mysterious events she shut herself out form the world. A childhood crush left inevitable yet impossible. Soon other servants and inhabitants of the manor began to disappear one by one. Eventually the head gardener left without a trace and yet you stayed, where would you even go if you ran? The night became more dangerous as the years went by, screams echoed through the night homes left untouched.

Warnings: none that I can think of.

*＊✿❀　❀✿＊*

“C’mon Donna, can we let them stay here with us? It’s been so long since we’ve had another guest.” Angie asked Lady Beneviento from across the rounded table.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude, my lady.” You assumed your lord as you waved your hands in front of you. “I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable with my presence.”

“I don’t mind, in fact I’d like for you to stay.” The Lord suggested and your heart has flown out the window.

You were caught off guard by her words. Not only did she not mind but she wanted you to stay. The sound of the wind howling outside snapped you back into reality. In the distance from where you were sitting at the table, you could see snow blowing outside the window.

“Looks like a storm is brewing.” The Lord spoke as she turned her head right to face the window.

“Where’s my thanks, I just saved you from walking in that?!” Angie commented as she dramatically pointed towards the mess outside. She was right, it would be a pain to trek in that weather. You did not have the layers to safely make your way home.

“Where did this snow come from, it was just dry and sunny outside not long ago?!” Changing weather had become a normal thing ever since people began to disappear, but weather changing this drastically so soon meant something terrible was happening.

The first time the weather had shifted from sunny to snowy, humanoid beasts from the woods had attacked various homes. They kidnapped people never to be seen again, anyone who tried to stop them would be torn to shreds. They’d be taken into the woods in the dead of night, some villagers turned them into a horror story for children since it happened so rarely.

The thought caused your muscles to tense and the two had noticed.

“Don’t worry, this house is safe and would be alright as long as you remain on the land.” The Lord assured you. “Let me show you your room.”

You stood up and immediately knelt down in front of her. “With all due respect I feel uncomfortable being considered a guest. You're a lord and I am mere mortal. At least allow me to be your personal servant if I am to live here. I may not have a lot of experience but I have some knowledge on the duties the other servants used to perform.”

You felt a struggle between right and wrong. You were a mere gardener and staying as a Lord’s guest felt wrong. It was all you had known and the change scared you, even if you two had gotten close as children. You were both adults now and the status quo had played a big part of your life.

“Ooooo you’re quite the charmer, you’re a keeper.” Angie had sort of ruined the moment and a wave of embarrassment hit you. Heat rose to your cheeks and made its way down your neck. You were sure they turned a noticeable shade of red.

“If you insist. The more I think, it will be easier to explain to the other lords without putting a target on your back. We’re not known for being hospitable.” She held out her hand and you placed your hand in hers. Her hand perfectly fits yours like puzzle pieces. You brought her soft and slim hand to your forehead and pledged your loyalty to her and her family name.

“I hereby swear my loyalty to you and the Beneviento name until the day I day. I will remain your faithful servant and promise to serve no one else.” After your heartfelt pledge you gently placed a kiss on her hand and rose to meet her eyes under her veil.

After clearing the table she showed you to your room. It was on the second floor, across from another room, next to a deer head on the wall, and the window was facing the front of the house. You can tell it hasn’t been used for a while since there were a few boxes in front of it. She insisted on this room because of that reason.

It had a fairly big window that let quite a bit of light in the room. There was a twin bed in the corner against 2 walls, no higher than your thigh. There was a night stand next to it, a desk beside the window, and a big armoire next to the door. She left you all ikr to get settled in and showed you where the washroom was. It took you a minute to realize you had no other clean clothes and Ange had brought you a butler’s suit and new underclothes. Luckily it was the right size considering it probably belonged to someone else originally. Angie also showed you how to use a shower because you have never used one before.

Running water was something you never had the luxury of. You were lucky if you even got to bathe one a week, you quickly became self conscious when you tried to remember when the last time you cleaned yourself was. You’d occasionally bathe in a nearby lake or steal a bucket of water from the neighbors. Wells were too loud and risky.

Before you got into the show you got a good look at yourself in the mirror. You were caught off guard by your appearance for a moment, it’s been quite a bit since you’ve seen yourself in the mirror. You ignored the dirt and washed it off to get a better view. When was the last time I saw myself?

Over the years you began to resemble your parents more and more. Somewhere deep inside, you were ashamed of it. Your physical appearance was a constant reminder of the people who never paid any mind to you, afraid to become like them one day. That fear is the main drive to your optimism and way to stay in touch with reality. Wishing for their affection from day one may not have led you to working for the Beneviento Family. You may have never met your Lord if not for their lack of affection and acknowledgment. Although it would have been nice to have actually had stable walls and an intact ceiling with electricity and running water.

The moment the warm water hit your face you felt a wave of relief. A level of comfort you had never known before. It gave you time to privately contemplate your emotions, ones you haven’t felt since your childhood. You couldn’t understand what these emotions were, they were so unfamiliar to you. You had no one to confide in to help you understand these emotions. Maybe there was one but he would remain a last resource.

After you were finished drying yourself off, you dressed yourself in the suit and washed your gardening outfit. You decided to keep the outfit in case you needed it again. Some of your tools were placed inside your jacket pocket since your pants didn’t have more than 4 basic pockets. You combed your hair as it fell nicely when it was wet. You barely recognized yourself in the mirror, you looked like a completely different person. On the bright side you 're ready to play the part, appearance wise at least.

“Wow, you clean up nice. Don’t they look nice Donna?” Angie inquired by the doorframe, perched in the Lord’s arms as you were looking at yourself in the mirror in the armoire. She found herself at a loss of words and you could feel her gaze piercing through you.

~~~~

You spent the rest of the day in her personal study, reading up about the duties you were to perform and what was expected of you. With her help of course after realizing your reading skills were at the bare minimum. You were familiar with most of the mannerisms and takes. All except for cooking, that was something you knew nothing about. Angie and your Lord were happy to show you, especially Angie who was looking forward to tormenting you.

In the main fawyer you noticed a portrait of your Lord on your way up to the steps. The painting had placed you in some sort of trance. Although it was clearly a portrait of your Lord it wasn’t able to catch her full beauty that radiated off her when she entered a room. Must be how she’d look without the scar. Yet you never noticed it as a kid and you wondered how she looked now.

The warm bed you laid in felt so different, it felt really nice especially having covers keeping you warm. The wind outside still howled but it was concealed by the walls of the house. A bed with thick sheets, warm running water, clean clothes, a full stomach, and sturdy walls were all things you could get used to. Your eyes grow heavy and you fall into slumber.

[bts-ficrecs]

Any jungkook angst with no smut? Thank you!

yes hello. ‘tis me. Finally responding to you after 31498237 months.

i rarely read full on ANGST because my weak heart cannot take it, ok. So i don’t have a lot to share and most of the fics i read are pretty short. i don’t think any of what i read are series bc omg can u imagine a full on series with NO HAPPINESS!! I WOULD D WORD!!!!!!!1 sjadflakwe but i’ve included some angsty series in the 2nd half of this compilation!

as requested, no smut. i’m sorry if i missed something and it does have smut 🙏 also this ask made me realize how many angsty fics DO have smut involved, lololol we’re all a bunch of emo hornies and tbh,,, i’m not even gonna deny that 😂 ok ok i’ll stop rambling now.

* m/n: mai notes can also be read as “my notes”. ha ha ha wow i’m so punny.

HAVE READ:

⊱ ┄ A Fallen Bookmark on A Thursday Afternoon by @cutaepatootie

 summary: He came to you like the air comes into the train station after the fast arriving of the machine. It comes fast and unexpected, making you hoist your head to look at the long vehicle and the people inside. It is so fast you can’t even distinguish the different wagons. As the train comes to a stop, the wind that it creates plays with your hair, leaving you breathless. That’s how Jeon Jungkook came into your life.

 

⊱ ┄ A Mark of Betrayal by @jimlingss

 summary: Forgotten as the eighth deadly sin; each time one betrays, a mark will be signed on their skin…

 

⊱ ┄ A Piece of the Moonlight by @jimlingss

 summary: For your loved ones, the people who are waiting at home, the people who have died - you will fight. And sometimes to fight means to sacrifice: who you really are and the person you really love.

 

⊱ ┄ Blue Orchids by @inktae​

 summary: You were eighteen years old when Jimin’s name showed up on your hand.

 m/n: this is like… one of THE og bts fics and i will always promote it bc IT DESERVES TO BE READ BY EVERYONE

 

⊱ ┄ Delirium by @sseudanym

 summary: What to feel, when it’s all gone.

 

⊱ ┄ Give Me Your Hands (I Will Pick the Stars for You) by mindheist (AO3)

 summary: I miss you like the moon misses the sun, destined to chase you until the end of time.

 m/n: this is the only mxm fic here. it’s jungkook x taehyung :) i hope it won’t deter you from reading it though! it’s an absolutely beautiful story.

 

⊱ ┄ In My Head by obiwrites (AO3)

 summary: The one where you and your long time boyfriend aren’t on the same page

 

⊱ ┄ It’s Enough by @dark-muse-iris

 summary: Preparing dinner reminds you of all the struggles you’ve experienced in your marriage. Your husband Jungkook, ever your anchor, tries to cheer you up with gentle words.

 

⊱ ┄ Mamihlapinatapai by @tayegi

 summary: Mamihlapinatapai (noun): a look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something that they both desire but which neither wants to begin.

 

⊱ ┄ My Beauty, My Blood by @7cypher

 summary: With Namjoon out of the picture, Jeongguk has to step up and be the sole successor to the organization laid out before him. However, guilt doesn’t escape him very easily, and neither does your persistence.

  

 ⊱ ┄ Resentment by obiwrites (AO3)

 summary: It was an ugly kind of sad. The kind that kept you up at night, that weighed heavy in your chest and made you feel like you couldn’t breathe, it made you feel like molasses—made your limbs drag and your body ache. You’d heard of the physical effects of depression—but you weren’t expecting this.

 

⊱ ┄ The Train of Lost Souls by @inktae

 summary: The moment you step inside the train, you are given two options. You can choose to live or you can choose to move on. You are dead, but it’s up to you to do something about it. The choice is solely yours.

 m/n: ok so this is technically a Hoseok fic since the reader is interacting with Hoseok, but Jungkook is a part of this fic and IT HURTS ME SO MUCH SO I HAD TO INCLUDE THIS OK

 

⊱ ┄ The Swirling Ways of Stars by @inktae

 summary: Jeon Jungkook doesn’t feel like home.

 

⊱ ┄ Untitled by @floralseokjin

 summary: He noticed you almost instantly. Like the wind blowing autumn leaves past his heels, he felt you near him. His body an instant constant buzzing as he stood inside the kitchen, back against the counter where he watched you outside. The separation of the living area and the balcony window feeling miles away regardless of how close he was to you…how close you were to him…

 

⊱ ┄ We Were by @gukyi

 summary: Not all once upon a time’s have happily ever after’s.

 

⊱ ┄ Water Ripples by @inktae

 summary: It may be a mistake caused by unreachable forces, but it is not a curse, like some may think. Meeting each other, being able to touch each other but being forbidden to stay close beyond the limits of the sea could be considered torture — where is the pleasure in getting a taste of something you cannot have, an ephemeral spark in the night? in getting wings that can’t make you soar, no matter how many times they flutter?

 m/n: i made the mistake of rereading this when i was compiling this list and yes i am crying again. hooo booyyy.

 

 

HAVE NOT READ YET:

⊱ ┄ Below Thunder Showers by @inktae

 summary: Min Yoongi leads Earth with a stern hand and a pair of cold eyes. You lead a withered space station that’s been losing hope for years, mind tired and heart torn. Jeon Jungkook is no more than a broken soldier who’s slowly losing his humanity, but his longing for the rain keeps him tied to the ground. Three paths converge again when the two worlds clash, and as precarious as they were, it does not stop you from falling in love for a second time.

 

⊱ ┄ Blossom by @dimpled-gukkie

 summary: “Blossom, blossom, blossom. As unexperienced as I may be in the field you really didn’t think I’d only bring one weapon did you? It’s no wonder your gang has gone to shit ever since your dad died, it’s clear that you’re incompetent as well as incapable of being a good leader.” He laughs, raising the gun to point at you. You raise your own and he just smiles again before setting his weapon down. “You know what, how about we do this the old fashion way? I heard guns weren’t your specialty anyways.” Shrugging off his coat you spot the long dagger tucked into his waistband. “Cmon sweetheart, show me just how dangerous you are.”

 

⊱ ┄ Contradict by @drowsymochi

 summary: Jungkook is a name you hear often around the crowded city of Seoul, South Korea. Jungkook is the leader of Bangtan, a gang that has acquired a worldwide audience. The gang is stationed in Seoul, creating a feeling of uneasiness on the streets. Everyone in the city has been acquainted with one of the members at some time, being that they’re always around. For the most part, they don’t harm innocent civilians unless they commit a crime that the members find worthy of punishment. That penalty can range from bankruptcy, to torture and eventually death, which makes the city wary of their words and surroundings. If only you had been as terrified as everyone else.

 

⊱ ┄ Downfall by @donewithjeon

 summary: Your hesitation cost you dearly, and you swore never to let it happen again.

 

⊱ ┄ Drown For You by @callistojjk

 summary: There was something in that enormous tank, hidden in the murky water. All you knew was that you weren’t allowed inside the room and that it used to hold something dangerous.

 

⊱ ┄ Drag Me Down to Hell by @kimvtae

 summary: There’s a darkness to your city, a murderous underbelly filled with crime and deceit that you’ve sworn to avoid at all costs. But the universe has funny ways of forcing your involvement in the form of a notorious mob boss and his young daughter.

 

⊱ ┄ Expensive Mistakes by @honeyedhoseok

 summary: Your night spent swindling at the pool table goes left when your lackluster skills are found to be false, so it’s a good thing Jungkook has some supernatural abilities to keep D and his friends from recollecting their money–but his help comes at a price.

 

⊱ ┄ Fierce And Delicate by @mintseesaw

 summary: Jungkook and y/n had been brought in two different worlds. Jungkook living an unfortunate life and y/n being controlled by her parents all her life. Despite the imperfect relationship, they completed each other like a puzzle there is. Jungkook has one promise he intends to keep: to always make you happy. In the process of fulfilling your wish he had once declined you of, he kept a secret from you. And unintentionally, he has done more damages than expected…Every action, and every decision… could be blamed by the flawed past.

 

⊱ ┄ Fallout Technical Report by @pantaemonium

 summary: You knew you should not go into the darkness of night, even if your hope had run thin. The monsters were free to walk the earth, and some of them were still as human as you.

 

⊱ ┄ Fear in Your Eyes by @gukyi

 summary: There’s a werewolf in that forest behind your house, they told you, and he’ll eat you before you can even beg for mercy. 

 

⊱ ┄ First Light by @inktae

 summary: “Have you ever felt like the world is too loud sometimes?” “No. For me it’s always quiet.”

 

⊱ ┄ Finding Beauty in Your Darkest Places by @jungtaeyoongles

 summary: Everyone has their issues, and everyone deals with them differently. Jungkook thinks that avoiding his problems is the best option out there. AKA Jeon Jungkook is the newest patient at the Omelas Specialized Psychiatric Clinic, and he just wants to get in and out as quickly as possible so that he can go back to university and be with his friends again. Of course, that doesn’t work out according to his plan.

 

⊱ ┄ Gravity by @donewithjeon

 summary: The universe works in mysterious ways. What you didn’t know was that the world would give you the best at such a young age.

  

⊱ ┄ I Got You On My Mind by @bangtanbombimagines

 summary: In a world where soulmates can share thoughts, you never imagined that the sweet voice in your head would belong to a guy like Jungkook.

 

⊱ ┄ Lost Boy by @hoshikimatata

 summary: You are the only girl Jungkook keeps coming back to, and you thought that made you the one to save him. But in the end, he’s the only one who can save himself.

 

⊱ ┄ Let Me Stay Close To You by @9uk

 summary: You were finally free from the worst nightmare of your life in high school. The doors of college welcomed you with open arms, you were set on living your best life in here, away from the toxicity back at home. That shimmer of hope in restoring your life, was somehow effortlessly crushed by a tap on your shoulder. “Hey Y/N, why don’t you say we catch up for a moment?”

  

⊱ ┄ Left Behind by @bbfairy

 summary: Every person is required to go through a series of tests to see if they’re smart enough to be a part of the upper, elite district. You and Jungkook are childhood friends. Jungkook’s dream is to live with you in the elite class, but deep down, you’ve always known that you’ll fail the exams. For ten years, you wrote letters to give him on the day of his expected departure.

 

⊱ ┄ Lie to Me by @hugseoks

 summary: It had seemed so easy for you to move on, did you even care at all?

 

⊱ ┄ Pull Me Down by @starryeyedgukk

 summary: “Do you regret it?” “What?” “Falling in love with me? It feels like I only weigh you down.” “I’ll let you pull me down to the depths of hell if that’s what it means to love you.”

 

⊱ ┄ Rooftop by @thelillzmonster

 summary: An unrequited love burdens your fragile heart. And when an unfamiliar, isolated boy is thrown into the mix, you’re not sure whether it all turns for the better or worse.

 

⊱ ┄ The Burning Flame by @bangtanfanfiction

 summary: You’re sent as a scout from the Academy into enemy territory, tasked with the mission to make sure their king doesn’t unleash another war on the four nations. During your quest, you get tangled up with a lone rider, as stubborn and hard as the scales of his dragon. 

  

⊱ ┄ The Black Veil by @jungcock

 summary: You never wanted to be a vampire, yet you had been 21 years old for the last 2 centuries. You never wanted a relationship either, yet you incidentally make a very human Jeon Jungkook fall in love with you, twice.

 

⊱ ┄ Waste It On Me by @byeoltoyuki

 summary: Being a journalist, you were familiar with the concept of taking risks and pushing your limits to get the best story. But when a gangster by the name of Jungkook tries to involve himself in your quiet, safe personal life, you are forced to reconsider the limits of your comfort zone, your boundaries, your morals and even your feelings.

 

⊱ ┄ Why I Hate You by @floofyeol

 summary: Jeon Jungkook’s only regret, is knowing her in the first place.

 

⊱ ┄ Watchdog by @kpopisthereasonihavenolife

 summary: Being kidnapped, then ‘accidentally’ eavesdropping on a lot of Intel that was specifically not for outside ears, was definitely not your way of being ‘recruited’ into the mafia world.  Much less end up with a companion who didn’t seem very fond of you, but stuck guarding and watching you.  A Watchdog sort of man he was, and almost entirely too suffocating.

 

⊱ ┄ Written on the Sky by @inktae

 summary: Time is, without a doubt, merciless.

 

⊱ ┄ What Happened by @bangtanfanfiction

 summary: You and Jungkook’s relationship was on the tip of the edge. Is there any possibility to get it back up?

[jayrart]

HPHM Profile

Character Profile template is from @hogwartsmysterystory​

Identity

Name: Jenny Callisto Romero

Gender: Female

Age: 16

Birth Date: December 12

Species: Human

Blood Status: Pureblood

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Ethnicity: Hispanic

Nationality: American, British

Residence: Romero Forest Manor

Myer Briggs Personality Type:INFP-T  The Mediator

The Mage

1st Wand: Eleven-inch Redwood wand Unicorn Hair core

2nd Wand:Ten-inch Alder wood wand Phoenix Feather core

Animagus: Munchkin Cat

Misc Magical Abilities: Zoolingualism- can speak with animals and understand them.

Boggart Form: Her Aunt Bianca

Riddikulus Form: N/A

Amortentia: (What do they smell like?) Honey, Roses, Apples, Mint 

Amortentia: (What do they smell?) Fresh laundry, Forest, Sandalwood,

Patronus: Jaguar (family trait from mother side)

Patronus Memory: finding out she can speak with animals

Mirror of Erised: relaxing with her family back home

Specialized/Favourite Spells:Bambarda, Disillusionment, Silencio, cheering, Ferula, Orchideous, Colovaria

Appearance

Faceclaim: N/A

Voiceclaim: N/A

Game Appearance:

Height: 5'2

Weight: 147 pounds 

Physique: Average

Eye Colour: Lime Green that glows in low light

Hair Colour: Black

Skin Tone: Light tan

Body Modifications: Stephanie's gifted earrings 

Scarring: the Aztec symbol for death (Miquiztli) between shoulder blades 

Other: Birthmark under left eye, Right shoulder, stomach, Inner left thigh, bottom right foot, and light heart shape one on her back. purple hair clip on the right side (Jacob gave it to her before he left.)Pearl bracelet on the left hand (past down from her mother)

Inventory: Potions (Draught of Peace, Wiggenweld Potion, Invisibility Potion, Memory Potion, Wideye Potion), Journal with her forgotten memories (Jacob wrote down memories that their parents obliviated from Jenny), Wand, Hair ties, Journals, Pens, Snacks, Animal food.

Fashion:

Winter/Autumn: sweater, layers, warm tone colors 

Spring/ summer: flowy, simple, pastel colors 

Allegiances 

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Ilvermorny House: Thunderbird

Affiliations/Organizations:

Prefect 

second-order of the Phoenix

Auror department

Professions: Auror, Later becomes a healer at school 

Hogwarts Information

Class Proficiencies:

Astronomy: ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆

Charms:  ★★★★★★★★☆☆

DADA: ★★★★★★★★★☆

Flying: ★★★★★★★☆☆☆

Herbology: ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆

History of Magic: ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆

Potions: ★★★★★★★★★☆

Transfiguration: ★★★★★★★☆☆☆

Electives:

C.O.M.C:★★★★★★★★★★

Muggle Studies:★★★★★★★☆☆☆

Ancient Runes:★★★★★★☆☆☆☆

Quidditch: Only friendlies

Extra Curricular:

Potions club 

Frog Choir

Favourite Professors:

McGonagall

Flitwick 

Snape

Least Favourite Professors:

Rakepick

Relationships

Brother:

Name: Jacob Vincent Romero 

Age:20

Eye: Teal

Hair: Dark Brown, Wavy 

Height: 5'11

Schoolhouse: Slytherin 

Info:

He left during winter break to keep his family safe. 

Was going to tell Jenny but decided not to. She saw him leave 

Also Zoolingualism 

Expert at Non-verbal magic 

Learn to Apparition by himself

Extremely smart

 Heir to the Romero family funds but passes it down to Jenny

Shy around strangers 

Hates crowds 

Misc Siblings: 

Name: Dalton Nash Romero (baby brother)

Age: 1

Eye: Skyblue 

Hair: Brown, Curly 

Name: Cordelia Roselind Romero (baby sister)

Age:1

Eye: Skyblue

Hair: Brown, Wavy

Info: 

Born at the start of Jenny's 5th year

Unexpected 

Doesn't have the Zoolingualism gene

Father:

Name: Kristopher Vulcan Romero 

Age: 43

Eye: Blue

Hair: Black, Wavy 

Height: 6'1

Schoolhouse: Slytherin

Job: Auror 

Info:

One of the strongest Aurors 

Has a brother and sister

Traveled to America when Voldemort started to gain followers (orders for parents because he was the youngest)

Met his wife after a bad accident. Eventually got married and had Jacob and Jenny before moving back home.

 Was divested when Jacob left and tried everything he could to find him.

Regrets not being around due to work

Mother:

Name: María Celeste Gallegos

Age 40

Eye: Emerald Green

Hair: Brown, Curly, Knee length 

Height :5'6

Schoolhouse: Thunderbird 

Job: Healer

Info:

Comes from a family of 13 (2 Parents and 11 kids)

One of the 5 kids of her family with Ancient blood 

family of healers

Moved to England after her sister tried to kill Jenny 

Part of a special healer unit (basically the ICU) at St. Mungo's

Takes time off after Jacob left to comfort Jenny

Emotionally unstable for 2 years until she eventually comes to terms 

Love Interest: Jae, Barnaby, Cristiano (Au)

Best Friends: Rowan, Tonks, Barnaby, Charlie, Bill, Jae, Badeea, Talbott, Chiara, Andre, Merula 

Rival: N/A

Enemy: Rakepick, R, Bianca 

Dormmates: Rowan, Liz, Merula, Ismelda

Pets: owl, dog, cat, Abraxan (back home)

Closest Canon Friends: Tonks, Barnaby, Charlie

Closest MC Friends:

Stephanie @hanihonii​

Dia @dia-m-o​​ 

Samuel @moko-sh​

Kyril @kyril-hphm​

Cristiano @chrisception13​

Luna @lunasilvermorny​

Helene @heleneplays​​

Septimus  @brothergrimm71​​  

Ethren @hogwartsmysterystory​

Flavio @sirfluffig​

Background/History

Pre Hogwarts: Jenny was born in the US and lived there for 2 years. She was proclaimed the heir of the Gallegos fortune due to her strong Magical Abilities. This angered her Aunt Bianca so much that she abused Jenny. Often hitting, yelling, and cursing her but she would always obliviate her memory after. She cursed Jenny making it so she was unable to have kids (unless they are born with strong powers). When she was unsuccessful she decided to just kill her off by marking her for death and sacrificing her to Tezcatlipoca. Jenny's mother found out about everything her sister has done and fought with her before leaving the country and moving to England. They once more obliviated Jenny's memories and forbidden her from leaving the Manor. She was fine with that until Jacob went off to school and both her parents started working longer hours. Her aunt who is a Muggle would often come over to babysit Jenny and show her a lot of muggle things. But One day a death eater made their way into the Manor sent to kill Jenny as a warning to her father. Her Aunt got in the way to protect Jenny from dying in front of her. Her father was able to make it before the death eater was able to finish their task. Not wanting his daughter to remember seeing the death of her aunt he once more obliviated her memories. After that Jenny became very lonely and depressed when she was left alone. Often having nightmares of her forgotten memories. When Jacob ran away she broke down mentally and physically refusing to eat and never leaving her room. Once her Hogwarts letter arrived she began to open up again.

1st Year: Jenny is excited to finally go to school and explore other places outside the manor ground. She isn’t really used to talking to others so she comes off as odd. Often mimicking others’ actions and personality. She doesn't focus on any of the vaults and just pays attention to school and friends. You would see her exploring and talking to people and animals often. 

2nd Year: The start year is similar to her first year. Often hanging around Rowan, Merula, Barnaby. Once the Ice vault starts to affect her and her friend Jenny takes an interest. When she found notes left behind from her brother she became invested in finding him. Jenny starts to sneak around closed-off areas of the school and in the forest at the end of the year.

3rd Year: she meets Tonks at the start of the year and joins her for pranks. Eventually meeting Tulip and things got very very chaotic whenever the three are together. She starts to spend a lot of time with Barnaby. Eventually, he finds out about her ability and they become really close. They were often seen with one another, and everyone thinks they are dating but they aren't. As the vaults become more dangerous Jenny starts to get more involved so she can protect her friends.

4th Year: She meets Charlie this year and starts to hang out with him and Bill. They both become a brother figure to Jenny. They even take her back to their place during the holidays. She focuses less on the vaults this yeah and more on her friend. Eventually going on a date with Barnaby without knowing it and being her date to the dance. Jenny still got in trouble for looking for the vault in the woods and ends up in detention.

5th Year: When the year starts Jenny was ready to start looking for any clues but because of detention she wasn't able to. She actually starts developing a crush on Jae. When Rakepick shows up Jenny does not like her at all. She didn't say anything because she didn't want to be rude, but when Snape said not to trust her Jenny told him her thoughts. As year 5 continues Jenny became more stressed but didn't show or told anyone. She helped others with their problems to ignore her own. Once at the vault, she tried to talk to the dragon, but when Rakepick attacked there was nothing she could do but fight it. when Jenny found Jacob she was happy it was finally over. (It was the first time anyone has seen her cry) of course, when he eventually left she was really hurt ,but she put that to the side and tried to help her friends that have been hurt both physically and mentally. Before going home she goes back into Jacob's office and finds the journal that is full of all the obliviate memories. After being taken from mad-eye Jenny returns home and reads the journal. She loses all the trust of her friends and family and locks herself away from everyone the entire summer

6th Year: Jenny tried to hide her emotions and make things back to normal like things where before, but ultimately failed when she noticed everyone acting strange. She literally was doing everything to help her friends, find her brother and the next vault, and keep her grades up that she neglected her health. She rarely slept or eat and the only time she did was because Snape made her. ᴴᵉ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ᵃᵈᵐᶦᵗ ᶦᵗ ᵇᵘᵗ ʰᵉ ᵈᵒᵉˢ ʷᵒʳʳʸ ᶠᵒʳ ʰᵉʳ ᵃⁿᵈ ˡᵒᵒᵏˢ ᵃᶠᵗᵉʳ ʰᵉʳ. When Rowan was killed Jenny literally broke. She was a mess cry and screaming as she held on to her lifeless body. After that, she joins Merula and Ben wanting to kill Rakepick. Once she finally meets back up with Jacob she confronts him for running away. Before he leaves again she hands the hair clip to him and makes him promise to bring it back once everything is done. Once Alanza arrives at the school Jenny didn't like her at all. She felt like Alanza was trying to take Roman's place.

7th Year: Jenny gets engaged to Barnaby to help him from being forced into an arranged marriage. They become more of a couple then just friends to make the marriage work eventually Jenny does fall for him.

Order of the Phoenix / 2nd Wizarding War: Becomes an Auror after school joining Tonks and becoming an apprentice of mad eye. Joins the Order helps with Intel, investigating, and spying. Fights at the battle and finally is confronted by her aunt. Jenny is able to kill her after everything she has done.

Post-War: Jenny still works as an Auror until her 50 where she becomes a healer at the school. Jenny becomes pregnant a few months after the war but loses her kid before they were born. During one of Jenny's assignments, she finds an infant child whose family was killed. Knowing that the child has no other family Jenny adopts him and raises him as her own. Jenny eventually gets pregnant again and had a girl named Melody who has the same powers as her.

Old Age & Death: Jenny is 97 when she dies of old age.

Personality

Good: Loyal, Loving, Kind, Optimism, Adventurous, Resourceful, Bold, Playful, Affectionate, Funny, Smart, Lively, Strong, Reliable, Determined, Cheerful, Friendly, Honest, Easygoing

Bad: Wild, Talkative, Rowdy, Fidgety, Cunning, Silly, Careless, Foolish, Impulsive, Sarcastic, Secretive, Clumsy, forgetful

Misc

Talents: Singing, Playing the Piano & Guitar, Baking, Ice Skating, 

Knew that something was off with Rakepick

Actually really good at potions but doesn't like to show off (snape knows but doesn't want it to go to her head)

Goes to the forbidden forest when she is upset to speak with the animals

It's strange to see Jenny when she is serious because she acts like a completely different person.

She stopped growing so she wears heels

Joined the order because of Tonks

When she goes home she invites Barnaby to stay, so he doesn't have to go back to his place if he feels uncomfortable.

The Romero family has 3 house elves but they are all "free". They were bought and set free the very same day, but given an option to say and look after the house and kids while they were at work in exchange for housing and food. 

Never had a real friend until she started school.No one other than the family has seen her up until then.

[josmoore]

𝕄𝔸𝕂𝔼 𝔸 ℙ𝔸ℂ𝕋 𝕎𝕀𝕋ℍ 𝕐𝕆𝕌 𝔸ℕ𝔻 𝔾𝕆𝔻 —

                      𝕚𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕞𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕚 𝕤𝕨𝕖𝕒𝕣 𝕥𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚'𝕞 𝕘𝕠𝕟𝕟𝕒 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕪𝕒

𝕠𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕗𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕪

full name: josiah barnabas moore

reason for name: both names were chosen by his mother — josiah, meaning god has healed, was her father’s name, and barnabas, son of consolation, was his father’s name before him

nickname(s): jo, jos, josie, jojo / sparrow’s nicknames for him are plentiful and do not make the cut

date of birth: may 2, 1995

age: twenty-six

gender + pronouns: cismale + he/him

place of birth: roswell, new mexico

parents: oliver moore + laurel moore ( née abrams )

siblings: sparrow ( twin ) / jade ( older sister ) / rowan + wyatt ( older brothers )

relationship with family: grew up very close with all of his siblings, particularly sparrow and jade but became distant after their parents’ divorce as his father and his siblings all left roswell / tried to keep in touch with siblings but unsuccessful save for jade and rarely his brothers / extremely close with his mother

pets: several colonies of bees in hive boxes out back behind the trailer

𝕡𝕙𝕪𝕤𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝

height: 5′11

build: broad / muscular / athletic

nationality: american

ethnicity: a mix of several, including english + russian + ashkenazi jewish

distinguishing facial features: bright blue irises / thick + bold eyebrows / sharp jaw

hair color: brunet that lightens in the summer

usual hair style: wild unruly curls held back with a rolled bandana / lil’ bun sometimes

eye color: bright, light blue

complexion: tanned from years outside tending to the bees ( read: farmer’s tan ) / freckled shoulders

disabilities: alcohol use disorder / intermittent explosive disorder

what do they consider their best feature?: he doesn’t think he has one, but if he had to answer, his mama always said it was his eyes

worst they’ve ever been injured?: gouged his right thigh open on some jagged fencing when he was running from the cops one night as a teenager trespassing on walker air force base + needed fourteen stitches / extensive second degree burns from a radiator bursting at the shop a few years back / broke three ribs in a fight one time and could barely move for about a week

𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖

favorite outfit: a pair of well-worn levis / white cotton t-shirt / brown leather work boots / maybe one of his brothers’ old hand-me-down flannels depending on the weather

glasses? contacts?: twenty-twenty vision

personal hygiene: clean + showers daily but still smells like motor oil and cigarettes

jewelry? tattoos? piercings?: woven bracelet his sister made him when they were kids / a crystal tree of life inside of wire pendant shaped like the star of david that his mama made by hand worn on a chain around his neck / several tattoos, the most notable of which are an orchid on his neck + the roman numeral v on the inside of his right ring finger + a laurel branch over his heart + hebrew script on his left hip reading לחיות לא במראה אלא באמונה, or live not by sight but by faith

what does their voice sound like?: kind of gruff, the rough around the ages that comes from years of smoking cigarettes and shouting at rowdy bargoers

style of speech: slow and quiet / takes his time talking / loud when he’s agitated or feeling argumentative

accent?: a bit of one, influenced by a lifetime in new mexico and his mother’s southern roots

unique mannerisms/physical habits: twists his curls absently when he’s tired, a trait he’s had since he was a kid / chain-smoking, pacing and picking at his cuticles when he’s anxious or upset / playing with the pendant his mama gave him when he’s thinking

left handed or right?: right-handed

do they work out/exercise?: working 90+ hours/week is enough, he’s dead on his feet if he’s off the clock

𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕗𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕔𝕥

known languages: english

zodiac: sun taurus / moon cancer / ascendant sagittarius

gifts/talents: playing the fiddle / winning rigged carnival games / mixing a damn good drink

religious stance: jewish, raised in a jewish/catholic household / observes only major holidays + holy days

political stance: liberal

pet peeves: gossip /  fidgeting / lying / unnecessary or dull conversation / tourists / alien talk

optimist or pessimist: realist / pessimist

extrovert or introvert: introvert

𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕔𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕣𝕖𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕡𝕤

relationship status: single / interested in one ( 1 ) blonde gremlin

sexual orientation: bisexual / not open about it

ideal mate/qualities they look for in mate: argumentative / affectionate / adventurous

ever been in love?: maybe, but he’s not sure he knows what it feels like / tbd / could be rn who knows?

what’s their love language?: acts of service / quality time

most important person in their life?: mama moore, no question

𝕧𝕠𝕔𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 

level of education: diploma from roswell high school

profession: mechanic + bartender

past occupations: none / got a job at sanders’ before he’d fully graduated high school

dream occupation: fulltime beekeeper

passions: beekeeping + bee rescue / his family / mixology / music / woodworking + construction

attitude towards current job: grateful he has the income of both, even if it is absolutely exhausting

spender or saver? why?: spending, but not by choice — mama’s medical bills on top of the simple cost of living mean there’s not a lot to save after everything’s paid up anyhow, but josiah doesn’t bat an eye handing over damn near his entire paycheck for her

which is more important – money or doing something they love?: right now it’s the money, because the health of the person he loves most is on the line and he’s struggling enough as it is to make ends meet, but sometimes when he’s laying in bed at night he thinks how nice it would be, in a perfect world, to work just forty hours a week doing something he loves

𝕤𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕤 

phobias: the ocean / natural bodies of water

life goals: stay in touch with his family this time around / save as many bees as he can / find love maybe

greatest fears: losing his mother / turning into his father / pushing away everyone he cares about / being alone after mama moore passes and all of his siblings leave again

most embarrassing thing ever to happen to him: probably causing a scene at jj’s birthday and being yelled at that he’s just like his daddy in front of a whole crowd of people / but also somewhere, on somebody’s phone, exists a video of him blackout drunk on tequila and shirtless, dancing to black velvet by alannah myles, on the bar of the wild pony sometime in winter of last year

something they’ve never told anyone: sometimes when mama’s asleep, he goes into her room and sits down on the floor by her bed and just cries until his head aches worse than his heart or he falls asleep

biggest regret: the first time he ever picked up a bottle + realized it was a comfort

compulsions: constantly working / being in a state of motion or busy / drinking

police/criminal/legal record: a colorful list of misdemeanor charges including  assault / battery / public intoxication / trespassing / vandalism / resisting arrest / driving while intoxicated

vices: cigarettes / whiskey / long drives / late night conversations with daphne / phone calls to jade

𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕗𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖𝕤

hobbies: beekeeping / reading / woodworking / violin ( though not so much anymore )

favorite color: aegean blue

favorite smell: gasoline / meyer lemon / the dryer sheets out of the laundromat dispenser

favorite food: anything his mama used to cook / a full diner breakfast literally any time of day

favorite book: silent spring by rachel carson / walden by henry david thoreau

favorite movie: romeo + juliet directed by baz luhrmann

favorite song: nights in white satin by the moody blues

coffee or tea?: coffee, no cream but sweetened with honey

favorite type of weather:  clear skies / warm / breezy

most prized possession: the family trailer, under his name when he became his mother’s p.o.a.

most used word or phrase?: for fuck’s sake

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Dawn

Loki x fem!Reader

ONE/TWO/THREE SHOT

Warnings: mention of past trauma and fluff.

Summary: A truce to end all wars leads to an alliance between Earth and Asgard in the form of Loki marrying a mortal. None of them what this. None except fate.

Word Count: I know I have a lot of WiPs. They worry me. My office changed and now I have to travel forty minutes to and from the place and boy do I get tired after that! This is one of the reasons I’ve not been able to put up much. And I know this will lead to a lot of readers fading away (I have seen this happening already) which is okay. A little heartbreak but I’ll live. But I just hope everyone stays safe and takes care of themselves.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"This is the stupidest thing I've ever done."

"I think insulting your father in front of thousands of his Hydra henchmen is still on top."

The most anxious day of your life and Anthony Edward Stark still makes you feel at ease.

The reflection in the mirror in front of you is of a timid woman with not an ounce of beauty to her name but for the title that comes with her unworthy blood. At least that is what you think.

Tony can read it in those eyes that are still carrying the lost sleep from many nights gone.

"The Asgardians have no idea how lucky they are to have you. And your father was an idiot for giving you away."

He takes the golden chains from your hands that you're unable to lock at the back to do it for you. "But then again, if it weren't for you, we would have never won the war."

You mock a laugh. "Oh, come on, Mr Stark. I'm a freaking ball that was played by earth and Asgard's most unhinged boomers."

The clasp on the chain shuts and Tony's brows go up. "I could not have said it better. Odin does seem like he should chill out more."

"Right?"

You both chuckle and Tony presses away creases on your shoulder before catching your gaze in the mirror.

"You do know you don't have to go through this, Y/N. You just have to say the word and every one of us out there will fight those golden bastards for you."

Your lips stretch in an involuntary smile that fills your heart to the brim and you feel your eyes get wet for the man who has been more of a father to you than your own blood and bones. "You know that is exactly the reason I said yes to the wedding, right? I don't want any more bloodshed. Let's just take it as me repenting for my father's sins and call it a day. Although I'm glad this peace offering didn't come with shady terms like the Asgardians ruling earth or something."

Tony blinks and looks into some unknown void. "Hm." Some afterthought later he looks down at you adjusting a flower in his jacket's pocket, patting and jumping a little in excitement at how great he looked. "Maybe Odin wants to give one of his disappointments some responsibilities or something. To keep him busy, you know."

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, giving yourself one final look in the mirror before picking up the bouquet of Asgardian orchids- the golden flowers in full bloom.

"But honestly though, if he does something you don't like, you have to tell me. Or anyone of us. Nat! Yes, she will take care of him for you on the down-low. It'll be so quiet even he won't know what hit him."

You twirl around towards Tony, making him question the whole event once more. He could not let this happen to you. No. You deserved better. So much better than some egotistical maniac of a God who once wanted to rule your planet.

"Ready to walk me down the aisle?" You ask him with stars in your eyes.

"No?" He replies with clouds of doubt lingering over him.

"Tony."

"Okay, fine. But I am going to sulk about this throughout the wedding."

.

The great halls of the palace have been decorated with flora of all hues. Civilians have gathered outside to witness the wedding of their Prince. The old ones are curious about who would marry the adopted child. The young ones make merry, rejoicing their Prince has finally found love and the kingdom can once again celebrate after what seems like aeons. The guards have been doubled and the groom's brother is all over the place, running around to make sure everything is in order. It is only when Sif rolls her eyes and audibly groans before dragging Thor by his arms outside his brother's chambers does he stop. Be with your brother, he is ordered before she takes off to cover for him, leaving him to discover what he's been dreading all this week- what is Loki going to feel about this.

It surprises him when it does not take much to open the door and find his brother dressed in his most exquisite armour for the occasion. The gold glitters under the sun rays falling through the windows and balcony and the cape flutters luxuriously reminding every witness that none could carry one as Loki did.

Thor wonders how much of his mother's poise he sees in Loki while he stands overlooking Asgard. His eyes are taking in each and every living pixel while his hands are trying to scratch the nervousness off each other.

Mother would have loved to watch him start this new chapter today, Thor wonders gleefully on the inside.

Maybe it's the reluctant thought of their mother that travels unspoken across the room and makes the other brother turn around.

"Let's get this over with," Loki announces, walking towards the door.

Well, clearly not what I was hoping for, Thor muses, following his brother out.

"How are you feeling brother?" He has to ask.

"Like I might puke my insides any moment."

Vivid.

"Is there anything I can bring you that might ease your stomach?" I mean a brother can try, right?

"Oh yes, of course! Bring a very rare herb called common sense and feed it to your father. He seems to be suffering from this particular deficiency."

"Okay, Loki, that's a bit-"

"Say it's a bit on the nose and I will punch you in the face right now, Thor. I'm being married against my will to an earthling against her will. Father might be a professional matchmaker in his days but I am not one of his pawns to be used in some peace treaty like this."

Thor sighs because that is all he can do right now. No matter how much tries to defend the Allfather, the fact remains that two people are being brought together without much room for their thoughts and opinions. “Weren’t you the one to bring forth the idea of peace with the one planet that father has not tried to conquer and the one that still considers us friends? It is all for the better. And Y/N is an amazing woman. I am sure she would make a wonderful partner-”

“The peace holds because you are known to their heroes, Thor. And if peace is the subject let’s just marry you with Y/N, why don’t we?”

Thor mocks a muted laugh but Loki does not stir, staring at his blond brother with a piercing gaze that finally makes the former shift his weight uncomfortably between his legs. “That’s what I thought. Keep trying to defend the Allfather unless he stands against what you desire. You do realise this was the very reason I tried to stop you from becoming king in the first place at that time.”

Before he can get a word in- or at least try to think of one- Loki has already moved past the great doors to be welcomed by a crowd of royals gathered in the hall at one side and Y/N’s family on the other.

He knows. He knows deep within his heart that the royals are here just to witness what drama goes down this time, what does the bastard of Odin do this time to wreck chaos midst these celebrations. The other side? They are here to make sure they have his bones if Y/N says the word. So, it’s just another day in my life. But he has to admit to himself how he envies you for having a cavalry of the galaxy’s most lethal beings protecting you without so much as a word. What is this camaraderie exactly? A strategic alliance? A well-put band of the unfit?

It’s love, my dear.

It is not hard to miss Friga’s words fluttering inside once he climbs the stairs to stand by Odin’s side. Love, Loki mocks a laugh, it does make you do mad things. He is not paying attention to the grand speech Odin is giving, and for once he can relate to a yawning Clint in the front. All he wants is for this charade to end once and for all. So much that he might actually be happy if Y/N says no at the very last minute. Would save both of us some very awkward lifetimes ahead.

The great doors open again. Everyone rises from their seats to welcome the bride. Loki isn’t even interested in looking that way till the sun is reflected in his eyes from the veil that covers your face. And that is the first time he looks at you.

There is the strangest flutter inside his gut to witness his colours on someone else; on you. The armour in a matching shade of gold adorns your shoulders and arms. Gold chains have the honour of covering your chest and back, curving down from behind to the plates on your waist. Green of the gown dazzles like the galaxy moving around your existence, snug all around your curves. A Goddess walks on the land of Asgard. And every single soul is in awe.

Loki blinks under the light of the suns. The air seems to leave his lungs and time slows down. Everything fades away; except for the woman that walks towards him in arms with earth’s protector. His mind is questioning whether she is a mere human while his heart is trying to figure out the pressing sensation it is feeling.

“Lady Y/N, daughter of...under the care of the house of Stark,” Odin announces to the crowd, breaking Loki out the trance whilst he watches you climb the steps with Stark, come to stand by his side and give the man a kiss before he takes a step back, his gaze never leaving your face, waiting for a single line of doubt to take you away from all of this.

Well, one of the father figures understands.

“Time for the union,” Odin declares to the two of you.

You turn towards Loki, your heart beating in your ears as you watch your future husband for what seems like the rest of eternity through the veil. Even though you have been trying to convince everyone that it’s the right thing to do, your panicking heart seems to be having doubts of its own.

Breathe! Breathe, breathe, breathe, Y/N. Just breathe, please.

“Unveil her, Loki,” Odin softly orders the God.

You feel the heat run to your ears and neck. What fuckery-

“She will unveil herself, if she wants to, Allfather. Do not belittle her with your old traditions,” Loki points out, much to Odin’s dismay.

Damn right, Tony thinks to himself as he pauses and looks inside in disbelief for liking Loki there for a moment.

Loki does not miss your hands going to your solar plexus to wipe off the sweat before moving the veil back. The suns finally get to touch your face, that glows even when everything inside you cripples in anxiety. Y/E/C eyes meet the ocean of green looking at you with deep curiosity before you look away.

“Bring forward your hands unto each other so you may be tied by the fabric used by the first Gods to be wed under the suns and moons,” Sif requests as she holds a red fabric in her hand while her eyes travel to Thor standing at the end of the stairs.

Loki is first to bring forward his hands, patiently waiting for yours.

The hesitance is not for the ceremony as much as for the fear of him finding your drumming pulse under his touch. Oh, well, I’m pretty sure he can hear it from here right now. And so you bring forward your hands to slide into his, feeling the heat from your palms being siphoned by his cold ones.

A chill runs throughout your body; like a feverish tingle when your stomach is on the verge of throwing its contents out. And Loki seems to sense it too. It’s really hard to ignore for him, as a matter of fact. So is the repeated rise of your chest to breathe as much as you can while undergoing a panic attack; a state he is all too familiar with.

“Róaðu taugarnar á henni, gyðja styrks og umhyggju,” he whispers only for you to listen and still it does not make sense till you can feel an ascended calm run from your hands to the rest of your body, bringing the chaos to a standstill.

How did he-

The removal of clouds of anxiety seems to suddenly clear your vision and you watch the God holding you in a new light. His eyes are soft towards you, his touch careful and light. His head bows a little and his body is still as a boulder. If only I had a backbone like him, you wonder when Sif wraps the red around your hands, binding them together neatly with a bow on top.

“Time for your vows,” she whispers to the both of you with a smile before taking a step back.

You look at her and watch the face of a friend before your eyes come back to rest on the red fabric. So much power resides in this little piece of cloth.

“Under the stars of Valhalla,” Loki begins, bringing your eyes up from the fabric to his face like an involuntary reflex, “I take thee, Y/N, as my wife, if you shall have me. I vow to protect you and be by your side in life...and death.”

...okay...that was...okay.

You clear your throat as discreetly as possible, taking in one long breath before looking back at right into Loki’s eyes. “U-under the stars of Valhalla, I take thee, Loki, as my husband, if you shall have me. I-I vow to protect you and be by your side in life. And...and death.”

No sooner are the words said than the fabric starts to glow with a blinding light, turning into butterflies made purely of light and flying to the skies, marking the bond witnessed by the heavens old and new.

.

"If you need anything, your handmaidens will be a call away."

There is comfort in Sid's gentle smile. If only you could ask her to stay. But that's not usually how the night goes.

"Take care of her, brother," Thor comments before a strong pat comes for Loki's back and the God rolls his eyes.

You know Thor means well but those words in no way bring comfort to you as the doors to Loki's room opens and are shut behind the two of you.

Silence marks the first few seconds of being alone in a room for the first time. Well, not first really. There was that time when the two of you had to fight your way out of the Hydra's facility.

"Nice colour theme," you finally say out loud standing by the door, awkwardly swinging on your toes while holding a fur coat given to you when you were shivering at dinner.

Loki takes his helmet off and your eyes follow the raven strands of hair flowing in the night breeze dancing in from the windows and open balcony. How does he have such lush growth? Maybe it’s the water of Asgard.

The helmet rests on the table with a soft thud. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch,” he states, already undoing his armour.

“Oh, no,” you press, taking a step towards him, “please, you don’t have to get uncomfortable in your own room on my account. I’ll take the couch. It looks more comfortable than my bed anyway. So…yeah. Um...where can I change?”

Loki blinks and turns his gaze towards an archway by the end of the wall. “That’s...the bathroom. Everything has been arranged for you in there.”

You nod even though Loki has already gotten busy with undoing what remains of his armour while you start on undoing yours. The bracelets come off first, then the earrings. But the worst is the clasps of chains choking you from your neck down your back. I should have asked Tony how he did it, dammit. No matter how much your hands try they just don’t seem to find the stupid openings anywhere.

“Allow me,” comes the voice from behind you, startling your already tensed nerves. And as if that isn’t enough, the touch of his cold fingers on your neck seems to fire up whatever nerve endings still seem to be working. Every undoing is soft and careful, always ending with a click. You can feel your hairs rise in anticipation of this foreign touch, goosebumps all over your back that you are pretty sure Loki can notice. You have to stop breathing in order to keep the shiver in check. It's only when your neck feels light once the last of the gold is removed do you take a lungful, catching the odd piece of jewellery in your hand, thanking Loki and hastily making your way to the doorless bathroom with a wooden partition made of intricate carvings as the only thing blocking the view on either side.

When you come out Loki has already changed into a loose black shirt over black pyjamas for the night, ready to take the couch. "I said I'll take the c-"

The creak followed by a crash drowns your words and makes you smack your hand on your mouth. The sofa lies in ruins on the floors, the legs done away with while the arms rests have fallen flat. And the thought of Loki almost sitting down on it fills you with the guilt of having the thought of laughing out loud at the scene.

"Oh, God. You okay?" You have to ask, partly because you did see him rise up safely thanks to his wonderful reflexes but mainly because the pressing jaw tells you somebody might die tomorrow morning.

"I'll have one of the servants clean this up," is all he says.

Servants. Ruined couch. Wedding night. That cannot go right in any way imaginable. Not at least for your overthinking mind.

"No, that's okay. We can share the bed," you blurt out, not wanting any outside attention, "i-if that's okay with you."

And so, both of you lie down on the king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what odd decisions did you have to make to get you here. Even though the space over the bed is surprisingly a lot, the senses just cannot help but notice the other one's tiniest movements, every breath, every gulp and every sigh in the silent night.

"I'm sorry," you finally manage to say softly, still staring at the ceiling while your fingernails gnaw at each other. "That you were dragged into all of...this. I really thought the whole gist of a wedding between two kingdoms was over on my planet."

Silence resumes and as the seconds pass you feel a shot embarrassment rise in your throat for saying that. Clearly Loki is not interested in hearing any of this, you moron. He's a God married to a dumb mortal. This must be the worst day of his-

"Don't apologize for the mindless traditions of old men, dear. We are just pawns in their quest for power."

Weight of the words aside, there is something really soothing about Loki's voice mixing with the sweet cold of the night.

"All of this could have been avoided if Odin took his word back and let you live as you wished, no matter what your father promised."

You agree in a hum, bringing the duvet closer to your chest.

"But I presume you thought it better to avoid blood and take it as it was presented to you."

The words in that honey laden voice seem to travel over your exposed skin like a feather.

"Yeah. Yes. It would have been the better option but I could not stand to watch my friends and family suffer anymore. Tony deserves to rest and live a happy life with his family. Steve and Bucky are finally getting around to find their love for each other. Natasha has settled down with Maria and Clint can finally stay with his family. The battle had already taken a toll on them. I would have rather killed myself than make them put their life on the line again for the whole...planet I guess."

You do not notice but Loki has turned his head to look at you, to notice the quick blink of your eyes, the tug of your fingers on the edge of the duvet, the lick of your lips before biting on them hard.

"Well-" you clear your throat, scratching your forehead for some invisible itch- "I'm human. So, I'm supposed to make the dumbest decisions. But I cannot imagine how you must be feeling mixed in all of this. I'm sure this is the last thing you wanted for yourself in exchange for some reduced sentence. T-that's what Thor told me."

You turn to look at him and are caught off guard by the moons shining in on the pair of greens looking at you with utmost interest. And once you lock your gaze with them, it's hard to let go. Swimming in the springs in a forest under a full moon night while the world sleeps, that's what his gaze feels like. Why wouldn't it; they seem to be touching you in crevices untouched and unbared.

He continues to watch you and sigh. "To be honest I stopped putting any hope in Odin to think about me a long time ago. Nothing he does to me or for me surprises me anymore."

Your lips pucker down, letting the words sink in before you decide to turn in his direction.

"Well, I'll try to make this situation suck a little less as I can...though I highly doubt I'd be able to create much havoc here."

"Oh-" Loki feels his eyes close as a smirk lands on his face and he turns in your direction too- "trust me, darling. With me, there is no corner of this place that you cannot create havoc in."

You find yourself chuckling, letting a few seconds pass before you lick your lips and wonder whether to let out this tiny naughty piece of your mind into bed between the two of you.

The lick and the tug of your teeth at your mesmerising lips do not go unnoticed by the God; something that is soon brewing a question about why his insides are so restless at the sight of your lips having to feel the torture. Curse the unknown! "What?"

"Hm?"

"There is something you want to say but you're not allowing yourself to."

You take a deep breath and move your head just a little closer towards him in order to whisper. "It's not that I'm not mischievous... it's just that I'm often presumed to be the embodiment of a golden child and so I've never been caught. Ever."

The slight shift in Loki's expression that elevates from seriousness to confusion calls for clarification.

"I...once laced your brother's drink with laxatives because he pissed me off."

Confusion.

Surprise.

Shock.

"Y/N Y/L/N," Loki nearly gasps, feeling his head rise from the fluffy pillow, "you did what?"

And the night drowns with the light laughter and old stories for the mutual feeling of detest for siblings and contrast in the view of the world. Discussions went on through the timeless breeze blowing throughout the night about the worlds beyond and the things undiscovered; everything riding on a melody till one of you feel victim to the sweet sounds of slumber.

Loki's eyes are stuck on you all night, watching the serenity washing over your face as all worries seem to fall away while you let yourself drift in peace. Beautiful seems to be an understatement according to the God.

Even though she's an immortal, she does not deserve to be tied to me for eternity. That's a fate too cruel.

But something inside him does not want these words to be true; a gentle tug to his heartstrings by you, that seems to have struck a chord he cannot stop playing.

[sarah-bae-maas]

Rowaelin AU! chapter three

AU! where the valg wars never happened, but Rowan and Aelin still stumble upon each other anyway

Chapter 1     Chapter 2        Ao3       Masterlist 

***

“I’m going to murder him.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I’ll wait until training is over; he’ll be at his most exhausted and he’ll never see it coming.”

“He will see it coming. Not that it matters, we don’t murder our friends.”

“Elide! He is not my friend!”

“He’s mine, I actually quite like him.”

“That’s because he hasn’t been kicking your ass every day for the last week.”

“Well get good enough that you can kick his ass back, problem solved.”

____

Lorcan hadn’t explored much of the castle. He mostly kept to himself, a habit long engrained in him since childhood. Besides, he didn’t really feel like interacting with pointy nosed courtesans and their offspring. He walked around at night, but mostly to wayward taverns with wayward women, Rowan sulking at his side. The male was as annoying as ever, if not more so. Aelin always left him in a grump, and it was near insufferable. Oh no! How hard it must be on the poor baby to want one of the most powerful women to ever have lived! And for her to lust after him so badly any fae with have a brain cell could smell it! They were lucky Gavriel wasn’t here, or he’d have Rowan removed from court.  

And where Rowan went, unfortunately Lorcan followed.

Lorcan took a rare moment to himself in the library. It was late at night, the clicking of cicadas a lullaby as he listened to them from the window. He had been eavesdropping on the princess and Gavriel’s son, but they were woefully boring. He had decided to stay once they left, kicking off his shoes and settling in next to a window so high and grand that all of Orynth was on display – much like the palaces you’d find in Doranelle. He didn’t want to read, he just wanted a break.

He was tired. So, so tired.

The sound of light footsteps interrupted him, and he stood up, readying himself to dodge them if need be. His ears pricked, and he walked until he could follow the sound, and the person, as they walked between aisles. He was as quiet as a shadow and peeked in the gap in the shelves to spy on his intruder.

It was a fair woman, probably in her mid-twenties, dark hair tied up messily on her head. She was wearing a red silk robe, half undone as she flurried through the shelves, a navy nightgown peeking through. He had on fur slippers, and she was scanning the shelves and picking up indiscernible titles. Lorcan had never seen her before, but she matched the description Rowan gave for the princess’s closet friend – Elide. This mightn’t be her, but it sure seemed like it.

Lorcan did know one thing as he watched her.

His heart, the moment he set eyes on her, started to beat erratically, and his soul begged to be near her. It was if a God had picked the string of his essence, and wrapped it around this woman, tying him to her. It was a feeling he’d never had before, and wouldn’t ever have again.

Lorcan knew that this woman, whoever she was, was his mate.

___

Elide balked at the man in front of her, stunned by his proposition. There she had been, minding her own damn business, when out of nowhere some sentry had begged her to take him to bed with her. She was sure he meant to be seductive, but she was a bloody lady and would be treated as such.

She shooed him and his hair that was way too blonde away, watching him flee into the morning sun as she continued her walk to the market. Usually she did this every morning with Aelin, but her friend had been too preoccupied lately to come. Elide wasn’t mad, she understood that Aelin’s training was the priority, she was just lonely. She had Ren and Aedion, but both were so busy that she barely saw them either. She just had be content on her lonesome.

She wove through the streets until she made it to the market, where she started moseying along. Baffled by the interaction with the sentry, she let herself be distracted by things she wouldn’t normally be. The flowers particularly caught her eye, but she had to regrettably leave them where they were. She had little personal funds, using most of her money to travel the continent, and she had to live frugally if she were to see as much of this world as she wanted to. All she bought were the small list of items given to her by various palace stuff – herbs, fresh bread, candles, and so on. Nothing for herself, not even the lovely orchids she wanted.

The market smelt like sugar and fresh bread, loose stones jutting into her feet even with her shoes on. She felt odd the more she walked; the back of her neck tingled, and she found herself reaching for it to see if a bug was trying to make a home there. There was nothing, and when she turned all she saw were people milling around as she was. Maybe she was getting sick, she did have a restless night’s sleep – not even her walk to the library and enthusiastic browsing was enough to wear her out. There was something in her blood though that sang, a message saying no physical ailment was what was making her feel this way.

She quickened her pace, but the feeling didn’t subside. Deciding she could forego the rest of her items until she had company, she decided to walk in the direction of the castle. She went a round-about way, suddenly paranoid that she was being followed. But that was ludicrous, surely.

She was in such a rush, that she slammed her basket into a building as she rounded its corner. Saying a word that would make her mother balk, she leant down to pick everything up when a hand joined hers. Her body jolted and she flinched back, looking into dark eyes that were level with her own.

It was a man; his hair, brown and shoulder length, was tucked behind gently curved ears. His face showed the hint of scars, but all were faded with time. His hand, which has just grazed her own, was somehow both rough and incredibly soft. He was dressed in rich silks, and if Elide was to guess, she’d say he wasn’t from Terrasen.

“You dropped this,” he said, gently placing her items into her basket.

“Um, yes, I did.” She noted his beauty, thinking that he couldn’t possibly be real. Maybe she’d also bumped her head and was hallucinating.

“Are you alright? You look dazed, my lady.”

My lady. Be still her beating heart.

“I’m fine, just-” she looked around her, there were a few vendors that had seen her tumble and were snickering, but otherwise no sign of anything nefarious. “Just frazzled.”

“Ah, well we can’t have a frazzled woman exerting herself.” He picked up the basket for her and offered his arm to help her stand. She squeaked as realised his height. He towered over her, his figure not looming but instead like a sea wall – sturdy in an age of constant thrashing.

She gladly took his arm, thrilled by the new turn of events.

“May I escort you somewhere?”

She swallowed, trying not to seem to eager or to burst out you may escort me to your bedroom please and thank you. “The castle, if you’d like. And my name is Elide. Elide Lochan. Elide Lochan of Perranth.”

He tilted his head, his lips hinting at a smile. “I’m actually staying there myself, Elide Lochan of Perranth, what are the chances that we’ve never met?”

She clicked her tongue. “You are? Why?”

“Yes, I’m the, uh, advisor to Prince Rowan Whitethorn.”

“Oh, you must be Lorcan! I’m Aelin’s handmaiden, I can’t believe we’ve never ran into each other.” Elide tightened her hands around his forearm as he guided them to the castle, her heavy basket being effortlessly held in his other. When Aelin had described Lorcan, she had envisioned a brute of man. Rather, she had never seen one so courteous in her life. “Advising Rowan, what does that entail?” she asked, curious as to how she hadn’t seen him at dinner or with Rowan when she’d accompanied Aelin to her training.

“Rowan’s life can be fraught in his profession; my job is to help wade him through any rough waters he might encounter. I’ve been doing it for decades.”

“Did you meet as children?”

“No,” he said, his voice making her spine shiver. “I’m a couple hundred years older than Rowan. We met when he was about forty.”

If Rowan was around the three hundred Aelin claimed him to be, that would make Lorcan, what? Five hundred?

A fae of that age…

Would have lots of experience, know exactly where everything with the female body was.

“Are you also royal?”

Lorcan looked down at her, his head casting a shadow over her face. “I – Yes, I am.”

“Is that how you met Rowan, you ran in the same circles?”  

Lorcan paused, looking tentative. “Yes, of course I did. My mother was… my mother was Rowan’s tutor. She was a prestigious scholar.”

Elide noticed his change in tense. “Was?”

“She faded with my father. She was nearly a thousand years old and had me towards the end of her life.”

Elide tilted her head. “But if Rowan is two hundred years younger than you, and she had you at the end of her life, how could she have been his tutor?”

Lorcan coughed. “Well… when you’re fae with such a long life, the last two hundred really is the end. Like a human in their eighties.”

Elide conceded, that made sense.

They chatted idly as they walked, Elide hanging onto his every word as he escorted her back to her chambers. They drew eyes as they walked through the halls of the castle, but Elide barely spared them a thought as she engaged with Lorcan. His well-spoken-ness impressed her as much as his biceps, and she found herself doing what she did whenever a nice, attractive male made eye contact with her.

She made very inappropriate and convoluted fantasies up about them in her mind.

He walked with her throughout the castle, the pricky feeling from the market fully disappeared. She dropped off all the items she had bought, and somehow managed to not jump Lorcan’s bones. They only stopped as the bells rang noon, and Lorcan regretfully had to excuse himself to join Rowan.

“I wish I could stay longer, but Rowan is testy at the best of times.” He glanced away anxiously, biting his lip.

Oh Gods, she also wanted to bite his lip.

“That’s fine, I’m sure I can manage the rest of the day without you.” Her faux confidence was spurred by trying to give him the impression that she was a strong, independent woman. Which she was, she just needed him to definitely know that.

He bowed to her slightly, his smile returning. “Until I see you again, Lady Elide.”

He turned and walked away. He was nearly out of hearing distance when Elide yelled, “I leave for the market at eight!” She had no idea if he’d even garner that she was inviting him to join her, but either way, she knew she’d see him again.  

[mhdiaries]

Brand-Boo Students Batsy Claro Diary

May 25th

Honestly, some monsters should just stay in the city. “It’s too hot.” “The bugs are biting me.” “When do we stop for lunch?” “My bed has a snake in it!” “There’s a giant spider in my tent!” Hey! It’s a jungle for screaming out loud! What do they expect? Then, about the time I seriously start to consider just leaving them to find their own way home, I take a deep breath and I escort them to a crystal clear, refreshingly cold waterfall to make them forget the heat. I spray them with monster-strength insect repellant (a concoction I created myself from all natural ingredients) to keep off the bugs. I find a shady spot on the trail and feed them the most scary sweet tropical fruit they’ve ever tasted. I remind the boa constrictor that the beds are for tourists and I tell the spider that while she is indeed beautiful, perhaps using the inside wall of a tent is not the best place to show if off (especially if that tent contains a ghoul who is arachnophobic). I was complaining to my father today about a particularly whiny group, and he reminded me again that the tourists we guide are guests in our “home,” and that if we make them feel welcome then they will want to return, and they will tell their friends about the wonderful time they had as well. I guess he’s right, but I really am tempted to answer the next tourist who asks me, “Is it always hot here?” with, “Only when it doesn’t snow.”

June 1st

Last year I guided a group of teachers from Monster High. They were scary cool and excited about everything, although the school counselor, Mr. D’eath, seemed to spend a lot of time jumping at his own shadow. It was a five day trip so I got to spend a lot of time with all of them. I really liked Headless Headmistress Bloodgood who knew a lot about the jungle, but also asked lots of good questions about things she didn’t know. She also told me about their monster exchange program and encouraged me to sign up for it. I wasn’t too sure about it, but she said it would be a great way to meet other ghouls and mansters and get them excited about coming to Costa Shrieka and seeing my beautiful country for themselves. So I sent in an application for the program, never thinking that I would ever be chosen. I actually forgot about it until today when my guidance counselor called me into her office to tell me that I’d been accepted. She was as excited as I was surprised. “This is a great opportunity for you, and I definitely think you should take it,” she said. I’m still not sure, but I have a couple of weeks to give them my answer so I want to think about it some more before I make a decision. I hope the fact that I’m dating somebody isn’t clouding that decision, but I really like him, and even though I’m not easily confused, this has me completely turned around without any sense of direction.

June 12th

The only tour I had scheduled today was for a group of retired monsters who were all part of an orchid club. Every year they choose some place in the monster world that is known for its orchids, and they all get together and go there. It was only a half day trip so I figured I would hustle them in and out and have the rest of the day to myself. Didn’t quite turn out that way because I may have been the guide, but they were the experts; in particular was a tall old gentle monster of a werewolf with bright blue eyes and almost completely white fur. Usually I spend the majority of my time answering questions, but today I definitely did more of the asking. They were all so enthusiastic and respectful of everything they saw and came into contact with that I was sorry when the tour was over. I actually offered to take them to a place I rarely ever show the tourists. Yes, I understand that it’s selfish of me, but I’d rather keep it to myself than waste it on random groups of monsters who might not appreciate it. Not all of them took me up on the offer because they had other things scheduled for the day, but a small group did. So I led them to a secluded spot where a small waterfall spills out of a cave in the side of a cliff and collects in a beautiful, clear green pool down below. The pool is surrounded by flowers and orchids of every shape and size. It’s the most beautiful spot in the jungle, and they gasped when they first saw it. Of course, when Mom flew out of the cave with a picnic lunch for us all, I had to tell them it was my front yard. While we ate they asked me all sorts of questions about my unlife and what I wanted to do with it. I told them about my chance to be an exchange student at Monster High, and how I was having trouble making up my mind about what I wanted to do. They mostly all agreed that living in a place this beautiful would make it hard to ever want to leave, but none of them wanted to tell me what I should do one way or the other. That is, except for the elderly werewolf, who told me that if I didn’t go I would always wonder, but if I went away and came back then I would always know. He also told me that he happened to have several great-grandchildren who have graduated from Monster High, and a few more who were still there. After lunch they thanked Mom for the excellent food, and me for sharing the beauty of our home. The werewolf didn’t say anything else about what I should do, but he did give me his card. It had a family crest and a phone number on it. “If you do decide to go, just call that number and I’ll make sure our pack will take care of you as well as you have taken care of us.” I was still thinking about what he said several hours later when I sent Headmistress Bloodgood a note telling her I would come.

June 15th

I realize that I don’t exactly seem like a soft and cuddly kind of ghoul, at least on the outside. Maybe it’s because the jungle, even in all its beauty, can be a rather harsh place; and I was taught from the time I was just a little ghoul that I needed to pay attention to everything around me, and to never forget that just because conditions are perfect one minute, there is no guarantee that they will remain that way the next. So I have to be firm – or harsh depending on whom you ask – when it comes to dealing with certain situations in the jungle. More than once I’ve had to yell first and apologize later when someone in a tour group needed to pay attention to his surroundings and wasn’t. so, how did I manage to mangle breaking up with my manster friend so badly? I knew exactly what I needed to say: “I’m going to Monster High and I don’t think a long distance relationship would be good for either of us, so it would be best if we just broke up face-to-face rather than dragging it out long distance.” Direct and right to the point I thought, and so I met him at his locker today ready to say what needed to be said, only when I opened my mouth nothing came out. Not a growl, not a chirp, not even a squeak. It was like my heart reached up, grabbed my tongue, and tied a knot in it. I must have sounded like a ghoul trying to quote Spooksphere after having her mouth numbed by the dentist in preparation for an all-day session of cavity filling. I think I may have even drooled at one point. What a mess. Eventually, I was able to semi-coherently tell him, but by that time it was clear that it wasn’t what either of us wanted. So we decided to try to give the long-distance thing a chance. Hopefully before I leave I can do something way less stressful, like pull a jaguar from a tourist’s tent.

June 18th

I left the cave early and flew to a pinnacle of rock that rises about the thick canopy of trees that surrounds us. I sat on a ledge and listened as the music of the night faded. It’s the time when the creatures of the night are closing their eyes in sleep and the day walkers have yet to open theirs and wake. I love this time of day, it is the only time the jungle is ever quiet. Just a brief moment before the sun rises and a new day begins. I wonder if there is ever a time in the city when there is this kind of quiet? Well, I suppose that I should get used to learning what it means to be a tourist. Hopefully, I’ll listen to my guides at Monster High better than the tourists listen to me… lol.

June 20th

Monster High! Some creature from that… place… has taken a ghost orchid! Like it was some common dandeadlion. There are only a handful of ghost orchids left anywhere in the monster world and the idea that some monster, any monster, would steal one from the jungle just to add to their collection makes my blood boil. I cannot in good conscience attend a school that would agree to let something such as this happen. I feel like I have failed in my duties as a protector of my home. I should just stay here and not allow any monsters to ever enter the jungle again, but then the orchid would still be in a place that it should not be. No, I will go to Monster High so I can bring back the ghost orchid and return it to its rightful place. A place where it shall never be in peril again.

[ofmargaery]

✦ ▓ AND WHO GOES THERE? oh, it’s just [ MARGAERY TYRELL ]. some say [  HER ] resemblance to [ LAURA HARRIER ] is almost uncanny, but the [ TWENTY-EIGHT ] year old has been in the capital for [ TEN YEARS ]. many suspect that they are the notorious [ GRAND MAESTER ] of the [ TYRELL ] family: perhaps that has made them [ SOFT-HEARTED ] && [ IDEALISTIC ] of late, when they used to be so [ ELOQUENT ] && [ INTELLIGENT ]. during the daylight hours, [ MARGAERY ] can be found working as a [ DISTRICT ATTORNEY ], but when night falls over king’s landing, they are best remembered listening to [ JOAN OF ARC by LITTLE MIX ]. may the gods be with them in these dark streets. 

tldr: on behalf of Margaery Tyrell, I would like to inform you that she took a DNA test and she’s 100% that bish. 

The youngest child of Mace Tyrell and Alerie Hightower, she already had three wonderful brothers who had seemed to promise to leave a mark on the world in their own ways. But for all she loved them dearly, it was always her grandmother that she idolised. Olenna’s legacy was what she wanted to live up to and continue.

She grew up happy, kind and undeniably bright. With a knack for picking things up easily, Margaery had an ease with learning and on the odd occasion that she didn’t grasp something first time her diligence was quick to ensure that she added it to her repertoire. 

All she knew was that she wanted grow into a woman that her grandmother would be proud to call her granddaughter. To do that she made sure that she excelled at school, joining almost every club going and making sure that her grades were nothing left than the highest grads. It made her content for a while but she soon found herself looking for her next challenge, setting her sights on doing something for others.

At the age of sixteen she set up her own foundation with the blessing and help of her family. Knowing how important education was, it started off as a way to help finance children from low income backgrounds through college. It has evolved over the years and now it is multifaceted but mostly serves as her way to ensure that the general public isn’t forgotten while all the families war against each other. Of course, it has its uses past that and at times it’s been used to advocate for certain laws that her family are lobbying for. Although she has to keep her views somewhat private due to her job, she takes great joy in knowing the good it is doing.

Her foundation was what settled her mind on what she wanted to do with her life - continuing to improve the world she lived in somehow. She didn’t quite have the stomach for politics although undoubtedly she would have excelled at that the same way she did everything else. So instead her focus moved to the law and how it was upheld. She moved to Kings Landing for college and has been here ever since. 

While studying she knew that she had a choice ahead of her - which discipline she wanted to practise. But to her the answer seemed simple. She wanted to ensure that dangerous people ended up behind bars and of course, it came alongside the added bonus of being responsible for members of other factions ending him behind bars too.

When it came to the other side of the family business, Margaery was initiated as soon as she moved to Kings Landing. She moved her way through the ranks before becoming an exarch two years ago, quickly proving that her words could just as easily be crafted into threats as they could praise. 

She’s formidable in the courtroom and has an almost perfect track record of convictions. Some might be cynical and suggest it’s only because of her family’s influence that she succeeds, others might say that she is selective in which cases she chooses. Both of those might hold some truth but the reality is they’re barely a factor. She does her due diligence with every case, pouring over evidence until she had a flawless argument. With sweet smiles and concerned eyes, she rarely fails to win the jury over.

With the death of her aunt she found herself voted into the position of Grand Maester. It was a position she had expected to one day hold but not quite as soon as this. Still, she is determined to rise to the occasion and not let down the people who placed their faith in her. And when Margaery Tyrell sets her mind to something, she tends to succeed.

Personality:

Margaery would like to think that her defining trait was still her kindness and for the most part it is. She has an affinity for altruism and will always be one to put other people before herself - the one big exception to this being that her family comes before all else. But kindness doesn’t quite mean soft and although her heart acts as her conscience, she tends to follow her head more often than not. For all she is happy to have her philanthropic efforts praised, she is grateful too whenever her intelligence is mention. She might be graceful and softly spoken, with doe eyes that always communicate her empathy and understanding, but her mind is as sharp as a knife and she knows how to use it. Communication is extremely important to her and always has been when she loves people so much and as such she’s an excellent listener as well as being extremely eloquent. She loves fun and wit above all, make her laugh and she will be your friend forever.

There might be a constant balance being struck between what she deems is best for the city and what is best for her family but generally she believes that both go hand in hand. Ruthlessness is not a trait she was born with but one she’s learned and as with everything her sharp mind has taken on, she executes it perfectly. There’s a wildness in her that isn’t quiet impulsiveness - she’s far too practised for that - but something that makes her unpredictable. Of course that streak is well hidden when even she forgets about it sometimes, aside from the longing she has for open country and a desire to always be on the move. Unapologetically feminist and intersectional with it, she full believes that what’s best for society is ensuring that everyone’s voice carries equal weight. Accountability is also hugely important to her. She knows that people can make mistakes ( even though she so rarely does ) but taking ownership of such things goes a long way in her books.

Headcanons

She has a Ferrari 250 GT Berlinetta Lusso  that she adores and will be found driving at any free moment she had. Not that there’s a lot of them. But basically Margaery Tyrell has a slick ride so click here for vibes.

Lives right next door to Loras because, well, he’s her best friend.

She grows rose plants on her balcony to humour her mother but her favourite plants are the orchids that she keeps inside her flat.

Other than sleeping she is rarely still. She loves being active and if she’s not working she’s doing some sort of sport, at her foundation, socialising or volunteering. It’s impossible for her to feel content simply being, she feels as though she’s wasting time.

Connections

Can be found here! But I would also love any of her canon ladies, Garlan & Willas.

[laniidae-passerine]

You guys have been really sweet about my really dorky Ruby Redfort posts recently so I thought I’d put in some work and get as much information as I can about everyone’s favourite code cracking, messy, doughnut eating Spectrum worker!

(Note: I am missing books 2 & 3 because I refuse to buy anything but hardback RR books, and there are other requirements because I’m a picky girl... so could someone else check those???)

Anyway, let’s begin today’s episode of Information about Blacker! Spoilers, maybe? Err on the side of caution!

Look Into My Eyes:

Blacker is a terrible dresser, doesn’t brush his hair and apparently doesn’t own a mirror. We stan one relatable king!

“He was a dishevelled looking man and his badge was upside down and his hair didn’t look like it had been combed since Christmas” [pages 149-150]

Ruby notes that he has a nice voice and is visibly friendly.

“He had a nice voice though. It had warmth - she could tell this from just a few words.” [page 150]

He drinks? so I’d assume he is not Muslim, Mormon, Baptist or Sikh. Although he could just be the child of people from any of those religions, and not be religious himself, so so much for figuring out his personal background or possible ethnicity.

“‘We (Blacker and Lopez) got a drink at Blinky’s bar’” [page 176]

He owns a car!

“‘at around four I dropped her off at that fancy salon off of Twinford Square’” [page 176]

He gave Ruby a key code to access the office in Trashford, indicating he trusts her a large amount.

“‘Well, it’s not technically a break-in. I have the key code, Blacker gave it to me’” [page 257]

Despite his long term belief that he has never ever met the Count, Blacker actually has - he met him when the Count was disguised as Klaus Gustav. Also he may be able to pilot a plane, if Hitch is being literal:

“‘Please tell me Klaus Gustav is safely in Twinford?’ said LB. (Hitch replied) ‘He is - Blacker flew him in yesterday.’” [page 329]

Take Your Last Breath

{n/a}

Catch Your Death

{n/a}

Feel The Fear

Blacker is the first person to suggest that there is a mole in Spectrum in the breiefing with Dixie Deneuve. He’s not one to blindly believe in Spectrum, no matter what Ruby’s paranoid brain tells her.

“‘Is it possible that the prototype has been taken by a person on the Spectrum team?’ asked Blacker.” [page 202]

He eats food that goes well with soy sauce and is an implied messy eater, indicating a varied palate beyond jelly donuts. Maybe eats East Asian food a lot because he’s from there?

“Ruby found (Blacker) wiping soy sauce off his jacket.” [page 217]

He has a good-ish working relationship with Miles Froghorn and is the only known person who gets along with Miles, referring to him by his first name.

“Blacker looked at Froghorn. ‘Come on Miles, Rube is actually asking a fair question.’” [page 218]

He’s a known diplomat, and knows how to get people to like him. Also, note he’s able to get one of those rare near-smiles off Froghorn!

“Froghorn stood up, very nearly smiled at Blacker, and without speaking another work exited the canteen. That was the other thing you couldn’t but admire Blacker - he was a diplomat.” [page 219]

He is not one for keeping clean. Vaguely unhygienic, but we’ll let it go, because he’s just that wonderful.

“He (Blacker) winked and wiped his hands on his jacket. He caught Ruby’s eyes and shrugged, ‘Ah, it needs washing anyway.’” [page 223]

Blacker is the one to have dubbed Mile’s office, room 324, the ‘Frog Pod’. It doesn’t seem mean spirited though, so maybe he’s allowed to make a little fun out of Froghorn because they’re buddies. Or whatever it is they have going on?

“As usual, Froghorn was in room 324 (the Frog Pod, as Blacker called it).” [page 274]

He openly admits to having messy living quarters and perhaps implies that he lives in an apartment.

“Blacker shrugged. ‘Could be the owner of the apartment is away or if he is anything like me then he wouldn’t notice a break-in - I’m telling you my place is real chaotic.’” [page 277]

He uses a transmitter watch, which is probably Spectrum issue, to communicate with other agents such as Buzz and Froghorn.

“He pressed the transmitter button on his watch, no answer, so he tried again and this time the call connected and he spoke into the tiny speaker. ‘Hi Buzz, I am trying to locate Froghorn - could you get him on the line?’” [page 289]

He’s a genuine, kind guy and just the world’s biggest sweetheart what a lovely man - I love him so much and I’ve never even met him 🥰🥰🥰

“Ruby smiled. Blacker was about as cool as a partner as she could wish for and at that moment she felt pretty lucky.” [page 366]

He can whistle. Devastatingly important information, I know.

“Blacker whistled - he could see it all.” [page 388]

He has had other important cases in the past, and was/is a full on field agent.

“‘Ah, once, back when, I had to work undercover tracking down some orchid smugglers. I learned a lot about the business.” [page 396]

Pick Your Poison

He doesn’t consider himself a particularly lucky person.

“‘I got lucky for once, just missed it,’ said Blacker, ‘So you wanted to see me?’ [page 273]

He is a trustworthy and honest guy, the reliable sort.

“Blacker was no liar. Blacker was the one person she could 100% count on, aside from Hitch.“ [page 286]

He is no usually thrown by many situations, a bit of a social butterfly if one will, and I’ve just realised every sentence I’ve typed has begun with ‘he’.

"He was never rattled - soda, yes; jelly donuts, always; but when it came to people he was as steady as they came." [page 370]

Both he and Hitch are slightly prone to morbid jokes, à la one dear, very, very de-parted Marshall Boyd.

“Hitch: ‘You don’t have to convince me, you should see the state she left Baby Face in - or rather I should say, states.’ Delaware: ‘How do you mean? Where is he now?’ Hitch: ‘Well, he left his heart in San Francisco.’ Blacker: “His head was found in Monterrey.’ Hitch: ‘And his legs have yet to show.’ LB: ‘Excuse me?’ Blacker: ‘He’s a goner.’” [page 503]

Blink and You Die

He is not fond of Superskins, but it seems like he’s been in one before, as he has an idea of what being in one is like. Also, he’s a smart man because he doesn’t like helicopters (working, I’m sure they’re just fine but you likely can’t jump from them due to the propellers- that thing begins to drop, pray to whomever that it just doesn’t catch on fire when you crash).

“‘No, mam,’ said Blacker. ‘Don’t like helicopters. And there’s no way I’m putting a Superskin on, not unless I have to.’ ‘They make you feel claustrophobic?’ ‘No, they’re just a heck of a struggle to get in and out of.’” [pages 131 and 132]

He’s not pro child agents, despite his friendship with Ruby, implying he agrees with LB’s stance on the matter.

“‘But I think his brilliance sorta clouded Spectrum’s judgement, made them think it would be easy enough to find a whole trope of children who could do just what he did.’” [page 355]

And that’s all the relevant information I can find about Blacker! Also, I accidentally re-read the part of BYD where LB begs Bradley to be safe and not die, but she knows he will, she knows deep down it’s the last time she’ll see him alive and now I’m about to cry, oh god. Thank god Agent Blacker exists.

[emoboijk]

knj | till death

In the demon world, arranged marriages are business transactions. But this isn’t that simple. —demon!au, arranged marriage!au, non-idol!au

01 :: 02 :: 03 :: 04 :: 05 :: 06 :: 07 :: epilogue

3,086 words

p.cred

Your wedding dress is made of white lace. It decorates the bodice and the sleeves and the hemline. Your veil is decorated with intricate patterns that mean something demonically but you’re not entirely sure what. Truth be told, you didn’t do all of the required reading and prep for the wedding. Your mother is still upset with you about failing her Demon Wedding Pop Quiz this morning at your bachelorette breakfast as she adjusts the veil over your face, but her irritation softens when she whispers, “You look so beautiful, darling.”

You take her hand in yours and squeeze, “Thank you.” You know this will be harder for her than it is for you, and that’s saying something.

“Two minutes!” Aunt Bom's voice is already slurred with intoxication and you wonder how she managed to get a drink before the ceremony has even started. Then you see her tilt an emerald silver flask into her mouth as she leaves the room and it makes sense.

You’re feeling surprisingly detached. You suppose it really shouldn't be all that surprising. You’ve known since childhood that your eventual marriage would be a business transaction more than anything else; you've practically been prepping for it since before you hit puberty. You’ve had lots of practice distancing yourself from whatever is happening around you.

You have nine bridesmaids, and they're all crowded into the dressing room with you. Most of them sit at a wide circular table, looking at themselves in pocket mirrors, toying with their bouquets of black calla lilies, or whispering to each other under their breath. Only one of them, Yeri, is your actual friend. The others are the daughters and nieces of important demonic families that Namjoon’s family and yours need to stay on good terms with.

“Ready?” Yeri says, standing next to your mother. Her voice feigns excitement but even through your veil, you can see her worry. Yeri is the third of five siblings (two sisters, two brothers). And her family is neither very wealthy nor very powerful, and her parents are not like yours (who are eager to gain both). She will never have to worry about marrying a stranger, so she constantly does it for you.

Although, Namjoon is not actually a stranger. Growing up, you had never been able to picture the face at the end of the aisle because you assumed it would not have been someone you would ever have associated with. But Namjoon…

You hadn’t been all that close, of course—his family is at the very top of the social hierarchy ("They are the social hierarchy!" your mother would giggle). But even aside from that, he is three years older than you and so serious. Always so serious. And successful, he had finished his business degree by 20 and had become a CEO of his father’s corporation by 25. All the men you’d heard speak about him said he was respectable and tough (“Best businessman I’ve ever met,” your father had said). And all the women swooned—he was wealthy, powerful, a ruthless demon, and a Greek god by all accounts.

You were relieved when you found out it was him. In the limited and brief interactions you'd had, he had always been nice to you. Unlike some.

“Ready,” you nod, letting them guide you to the door.

The wedding is at one of Namjoon’s parents’ manors (one of the ones from the 18th century). And it’s nighttime, under a blood moon (a good omen for demonic marriages). You peek outside as your bridesmaids walk down the front steps and toward the metal arch strung with black orchids, marveling in the lanterns and the decorations.

It is, you hesitate to admit, your dream wedding.

Some of your bridesmaids who had already gone through this had said their weddings were heavily dictated by their groom’s and their mothers. Your mother (and Namjoon’s) had only insisted on the traditions being followed to the letter, everything else you had free reign to manipulate. And Namjoon, your were surprised to find, had agreed to nearly all of your requests without any objections.

“See you up there,” Yeri says, smiling at you as she blinks into her demon eyes (bright yellow cat eyes that glow in the dark). It’s a tradition that for the ceremony everyone is in their demonic form—for most people that means their eyes, but some others have facial tattoos or markings, horns or wings, or total body modification. It’s an interesting crowd, to say the least.

As Yeri starts walking slowly down the aisle, twisting around to wink at you playfully before focusing fully on her task, your mother takes your right arm and loops it with hers and your father takes your left. They are both nervous and excited, and you hold onto them for comfort and stability. A part of you still doesn't believe this is happening.

“Your eyes, dear.”

“Oh,” you nod, closing them and concentrating. As far as demons go, you are not very powerful magically. But after a moment your eyes turn a crystalline white that glows like the moon. All three of you take a deep breath together as you step through the doorway.

The chorus is singing something in Latin that you are sure has some kind of meaning you’re unaware of (another question you missed during your mother's pop quiz this morning). You march down the aisle with everyone’s attention on you, something that has your heart hammering in your chest. Your mother intertwines her fingers with yours and squeezes. You squeeze back and take a deep breath, finally looking up from the ground and finding him instantly.

Namjoon Kim. The sight of him takes your breath away. He’s at least a full head taller than all nine of the men lined up behind him, and at least ten times as handsome. As is tradition, he’s wearing an entirely black suit (black jacket, black dress shirt, black bow-tie, black shoes). And his eyes, transformed for the ceremony, are completely blacked out.

You see the image of you both standing side by side in front of Daemon Baek under the archway in your mind. It is quite the picture. You contrast with Namjoon so starkly. You’re wearing pure white like the virgin sacrifices of yore. Although, you’re sacrificing your life in a very different way than they were; it took you quite a long time to decide that your fate was better than theirs. And as you pause in front of everyone with your parents, you remember that considering the circumstances, you are lucky that he made you an offer at all (with a measly dowry compared to his vast fortune, and virtually no powerful connections).

“Who sacrifices this virgin?” Daemon Baek asks, his voice reverberating through the thin night air. You try to keep from flinching at the wording and see Namjoon’s lips turn downward.

“We do,” your father says, bowing his head with your mother and relinquishing their hold on you. They step to the side and sit down. You hesitate for a fraction of second before stepping up to stand across from Namjoon.

The ceremony moves quickly. In the end, it is very basic and quite like a normal human wedding (the ones you've seen on TV at least). You promise to keep each other, vow that only death should separate you, exchange rings (although these are made of some kind of mystical metal blessed at your birth). Then you drink wine mixed with a portion of your spouse's blood (which mostly just takes like merlot) and a kiss to seal the deal.

Your first kiss was with Jackson Wang when you were eight. And it wasn’t so much a kiss as pressing your faces together. Then there was Jaybeom Im, the son of a servant in your household, when you were twelve (it was just...all saliva). Then there was lots of making out with Yeri’s older brother Minho when you were sixteen. And various innocent pecks from various prospective husbands after that.

But this kiss...was nothing like any of them.

“Kiss to seal your fate,” Daemon Baek said, as it has always been said.

There’s a pause where your heart rate jackhammers. Namjoon takes your face in his hands, surprisingly gentle, and pulls you toward him. He tilts your head back and puts his lips over yours in a move that makes you feel at once completely dominated and secure. His lips are warm and soft and smooth and you respond to them involuntarily, like you’d done it before. You feel his tongue push past your lips and greet your own before he seems to remember where you are.

You feel branded. Like he’s seared his name into your heart. Your knees are so weak that when he pulls away, you clutch to his forearm to keep upright. He moves a hand to your waist and holds you secure as Daemon Baek says, “The deed is done.”

Applause erupts around the room, and your mother stands to announce that the reception will be held in the ballroom inside the manor. You are grateful as everyone turns away from you to head back inside. When you look back up at Namjoon his eyes are back to the warm cocoa brown you recognize from years of familiarity. You think you see fondness in them.  

He seems to look you over for a moment before removing his hand and turning to shake the hand of Daemon Baek, “Thank you, sir.”

“Many blessings,” the older man says, walking past you both and into the manor.

You look down and inspect your rings. There's the dark, goldish wedding band you had just exchanged, stacked atop your engagement ring. It’s a dark onyx gem with small diamonds surrounding it, on a gold band. It was one of Namjoon’s heirlooms. You remember admiring it as a child on the rare occasions your family was permitted to visit the estate. You use the thumb of the same hand to toy with it, the cold night air making you shiver.

You can feel Namjoon’s eyes on you and he squeezes the hand he’s still holding, “It’s official,” he says.

“Yes,” you nod.

“We should go inside,” he whispers, speaking softly.

“Yes.” The warmth from the kiss has faded and now you feel numb, your limbs heavy, your heart heavier. It doesn’t seem real yet, like hypothermia that has only reached your fingers and toes, creeping steadily toward your chest.

The reception is elegant—custom-designed tablecloths, an elaborate white and black wedding cake, candles everywhere, a well-adorned table for presents. You sit in the center of a long table at the head of the room next to Namjoon. Women, some you know and some you don’t, come up and congratulate you. Men approach Namjoon to do the same, some of their remarks much cruder. He doesn’t let go of your hand the entire time, and it seems to keep the hypothermia at bay.

But an hour and a half in (after the cake and the speeches), the anxiety of so many people, the pressure of your appearances, has your heart rate increasing. You’re dancing your first dance as a couple, holding onto Namjoon’s shoulders for dear life, when he moves his hand to tilt up your chin, “Are you alright?”

You don’t say anything, not sure what it is you would articulate even if you could, but your expression seems to say plenty. He puts his hand back on your waist and whispers, “We’ll leave right after this.” He can feel you physically relax at the notion.

It’s not traditional to leave the party so early, but Namjoon is one of the most powerful demons (if not the most powerful) in the room so nobody argues when he makes the announcement and guides you out. He orders an assistant, a thin man with blonde hair and a soft expression, to have the gifts delivered to his (your) apartment in the morning.

There won’t be a honeymoon, which is also not traditional. These weddings, as much as they are business contracts, are also about producing heirs. Postponing the honeymoon seems to “violate the entire purpose of the wedding” (to quote directly from your, and his, mother). But Namjoon won't budge. You are incredibly relieved.

You slide into the car and exhale a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding, Namjoon following suit. Neither of you speaks, aside from Namjoon telling the driver the address. You’d moved into Namjoon’s apartment two days ago—that is, all of your stuff moved there. Your mother had insisted you continue living with her and your father until the ceremony and you had not objected.

But you had seen it of course. He owns the top floor of an apartment building from the ’20s, with his own private elevator. It’s spacious and minimalist—sleek marble counters in the kitchen (which you’re sure he never uses because you remember, fondly, a time when you were sixteen when he burned quite a lot of bread trying to make a grilled cheese), a large comfortable leather couch across from an equally large flat screen TV in the living room (which you are also sure he never uses because you’ve heard reports from everyone, his mother and yours and his business associates, that he’s always working), three bedrooms and an office. You try not to think about the bedrooms, but the office had a sturdy mahogany desk and one of those incredibly expensive, ergonomic chairs and a huge Macintosh computer.

You like the apartment, but it isn't very lived in. And really you couldn’t think too much about that, because you were much too focused on obsessively thinking about what was going to happen when you got there. All of your mother’s advice and tips for pleasing a man in the bedroom rush to the forefront of your mind despite your attempts to think of other things.

“We’re here,” Namjoon says, holding his hand out to you. The driver has opened the door and Namjoon had already gotten out, leaning over into the doorway, his eyes filled with kindness. You nod sheepishly, taking his hand and letting him guide you out of the car.

The lobby is a large open space, three elevators facing the doors and a row of mailboxes set into the wall opposite a laundry room. It’s all gold set and vintage, the aesthetic makes you feel warm and safe. You’d almost think it actually was the 1920’s if not for the buttons on the elevators and the keypads on the mailboxes.

Namjoon goes straight for the elevator in the middle, pulling you close to him so you can see him enter a code in the keypad, “This is our private elevator. You just have to put in this code.” He keys in it smoothly, but your mind is still circling around our.

“Goodnight Hoseok,” Namjoon says, waving his hand to dismiss the driver who had followed you inside without your noticing. The elevator doors open and you turn to see Hoseok bow respectfully before leaving swiftly, smiling warmly at you as he catches your eye on the way out. He tips his hat and bows lowly, as if to say he's glad to have met you. The small action fills you with happiness and a sense of...belonging. You smile back at him before turning to follow Namjoon into the elevator cautiously, your nerves taking over your entire body as you ride to the top floor.

The doors open onto the living room, the kitchen to your left with one of the bedrooms, the office and the other two rooms on your right. You step out and pause in the open space, unsure of how to proceed, your mother’s warnings flashing through your head again and making you jumpy.

“Um,” Namjoon says, his cool demeanor cracking ever so slightly as he smiles awkwardly at you. “The kitchen isn’t well stocked except with take-out menus, so if you need anything make a list and I’ll have Hoseok or Jimin fetch it for you. Or you can have your personal assistant do it; you'll meet her tomorrow. There are bathrooms in each of the bedrooms, and I would ask that you don’t enter my office without knocking,” he points to a closed door behind you, “My bedroom is that one,” he points to an open door adjacent to his office, a bed just visible in the dark, “And your bedroom is that one there.” He points to another open door where you can see a large bed with a soft blue comforter.

You look at him with wide eyes, “My bedroom?” You walk across the room to stand in the doorway—there’s the blue bed, a desk with your laptop on it, your suitcases in the corner, two doors that you assume are the closet and the bathroom, a dresser...

Namjoon’s brow furrows, “You don’t like the color? I had Lisa pick it out, but I can—”

“No,” you shake your head, leaning against the doorframe, “the color’s fine, it’s just...I thought that…because we’re...”

“Oh,” he says, pausing for a moment as he considers his next words. “Despite what others may think,” he says, tucking his hands into his pants pockets and considering the floor, “...despite the fact that you are my wife and the fact that I am a demon,” he pauses again, “I do not own you.” He looks up at you so seriously it takes your breath away. “And I will never force you to do something you do not want to do. Sexual or otherwise. Do you understand?”

You nod, “Yes.”

“And,” he adds, “despite what you may think, this is not just a business deal for me. I have been interested in you for a very long time and would have courted you no matter what. I wish we had been married under better circumstances, but I will continue to try and win you over...for as long as you let me.”

It was the most he had spoken to you all day, and you had forgotten how much you loved the sound of his voice. This time when he looks at you there is a hint of a question in his eyes. And you know what he wants. More importantly, you know what you want. You say, “Please...do.” And then you turn to go into your room before you can see his expression.

author’s note—i am super excited for this series and i hope you guys are too :)

02: a business matter ↝

for more of my works check out my m.list

[stusbunker]

Weddings and Other Holy Deals

For Better or Worst: Chapter One

Featuring: Sam Winchester x Emery Simmons-Winchester (OFC)

Setting: Mid Season 14 AU

Word Count: 1675

Summary: Sam finds an unlikely solution to the Michael problem in Dean’s head. His soon-to-be wife has her own side of the deal with the powers that be.

^*^*^

Jan. 20, 2019

Somewhere beyond the neatly trimmed lawns and the perfectly timed sprinkler systems, over a wide porch with a loveseat swing and past a storm door with etched glass, slept a Winchester. It was not a normal place for this Winchester, Sam for clarity’s sake, to be upon waking. But this wasn’t a usual day, for the hunter or anyone honestly. Though he had lived another day like this one, the excitement and anticipation he felt as he rolled over and saw his clock face shining back at him was unmatched. Today, Sam Winchester was getting married, and if he knew anything it was the best decision he had ever made. That things would only get better after today. Rare is certainty in life, which was why Sam held fast to his and began the life-changing day.

Across town, Bandit woke his bride. Bandit is her dog, soon to be their dog, a Setter mix that loved to herd. Emery Simmons had always been an animal person, but Bandit was a surprise blessing from her former life.  She hadn’t asked to bring him along, though as there wasn’t much she had left, she supposed it was a perk to balance her expectations. She roamed through the short-term rental, contemplating the dress that had been left for her as she made herself a cup of tea. Bandit demanded a walk and a bout of catch in the park, which Emery accommodated, unhurried by the little preparations for the small ceremony. They weren’t going to start without her, after all.

Sam had exercised, showered and shaved by ten o’clock. He had another three hours before the service was scheduled, idle hands met a replaced contact list in his phone. He didn’t know any of these people yet, well he knew one. With little else to bide his time, Sam hit the old rotary phone icon below the smirking face.

“Whoa, when did they futz with our phones?” Emery asked, spinning around with Bandit’s leash before tucking her phone beneath her ear.

“Dunno, it’s weird right?” Sam stared at the tux bag hanging in the bedroom. Their bedroom.

“Creeptastic, actually. What’s up?” She sounded worried, maybe she was distracted. Sam was overthinking her tone and almost forgot to answer her.

“I didn’t have anyone else to call?” Sam offered, sitting at the end of the bed, huffing at himself with a sad smile. “Forget it, I’ll let you get back to your, stuff.”

“Hey, I’m just out for a walk, you’re not bothering me. Sam?” His name came out heavy, like she was reminding herself who she was marrying. He didn’t blame her. There was a scuffle on her end of the line before she groaned. “No, Bandit, no!”

Sam’s forehead shot to its full height. “Is that— are you walking a dog?”

“Uh, yesssssss? Is that going to be a problem?” Her sudden defensiveness made him grin, the image of her struggling with a leash warmed Sam from head to toe.

“Not at all, the opposite really. I love dogs.” He understood why she was anxious; they barely knew each other, it was a bit soon for a potential first fight.

“Well, good, shit, had me panicking there for a minute.” The conversation lulled as she reached the porch, each stumbling over small talk before she looked at the clock on the microwave. Sam was starting to pace, but the relief that there would be someone else in the house with them made it seem less scary somehow. They said their goodbyes and Sam decided he better eat before the nerves resurfaced. He quickly fried some bacon, out of habit, and tossed together a smoothie. Everything he could possibly want stocked in the fridge and cupboards; they had done their due diligence, apparently.

Two and a half hours later, Emery was hiking up the church steps, dress bent over her elbow and simple veil trailing behind her loose curls on a winter breeze. She had never had a lot of friends, but today was a day when a female entourage would have come in handy. She thought about her mother and how she would have worried over her hair until it needed to be reset. She sent up a silent prayer to her, telling her that she was finally making an honest woman of herself. Adding a few choice words that would have had them both pursing and posturing before breaking down into fits of giggles. God, did she miss her. She smiled quietly, opening her eyes and the heavy glass door.

The church was cavernous and quiet and after countless trips inside hallowed walls, Sam was able to appreciate the architecture and the scale of the ancient organ pipes. The minister seemed confused, but accommodating, given the last-minute organization. Sam stood at the end of the aisle, hands in his pockets, the ring box lightly brushing against his thigh. A blast of sound curled throughout the space, nimble fingers flying over aged keys as the timeless march stopped Sam’s heart. This was it, a pact fulfilled. He inhaled, swallowed, and turned to face his future.

Emery hated heels, but given the size of her husband, she may have to learn to live with them. The dress was forgiving at least, the gentle satin flowing as she glided down. Tried to glide. There was no one to give her away, no one at her elbow to keep time with, no onlookers to slow down for, no photographer to capture their faces as they saw each other for the first time. This moment was theirs alone, shy and appreciatively sacred. He smiled at her without teeth, dimples mesmerizing as she lost her rhythm, strolling to him out of the step-halt-step that was expected of her. None of that mattered anyway.

She shook her head and smiled back, licking her lips as she remembered the minister was waiting for her. Carefully she stood in front of Sam, toes of her white slippers lining up with his reflective black shoes. A small bouquet of orchids clutched in her right hand, her left petting her skirts as she tried to rub off the sweat.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here-,” the ceremony began. They echoed the scripted vows, eyes locked on each other in hopeful promise. Cautiously optimistic was too naïve for these two, humble veneration too romantic. They stood as strangers, forging a partnership to save those dearest to them. It was a contract that required both of their souls, willfully shared and bonded before Heaven and Earth. Samuel Winchester took this woman, Emery Simmons as his lawfully wedded wife. And she him. For better or worse.

Two days prior

Two days and a series of choices prior, stood the other Winchester in an underground fortress, three hundred fifty miles due East. Dean was in his bedroom, staring at Death, or Billie, if we’re being technical. Which we should, being the time jumps and all. Billie handed him the last remaining outcome of his life on Earth. The book, once one of countless possibilities, remained his sole option from world ending calamity. That was until Sam burst in, with a very stern angel on his heels.

               “Dean! Listen, so—Naomi thinks she can help us. Help you, with Michael.” Dean looked from Death to his brother to the psychotic bureaucrat, the exhaustion heavy in his eyes and on his heart. Puppy dog’s hopeful eyes barraging him with an innocence he hadn’t had to let down gently in ages. Dean felt, unabashedly, like the oldest soul in the room. The women regarded each other, silent conversation earning only an audible hum from the former Reaper.

               “Interesting. Dean? I think you need to hear them out. I’ll be in touch.” Billie nodded to Naomi and vanished before Sam could get a word in. No one mentioned how these beings, especially the angel, entered the Bunker. A place lauded as being the securest on the planet, had conveniently become a haven for all sorts of unmentionables.

               “Okay, let’s hear it,” Dean sighed, perching on his bed as he listened to the latest hair-brained scheme. That night, after hours of arguing, endless curt responses from Naomi and rebuttals from Castiel, Dean agreed to leave with her. Before Naomi whisked him away, she shared a pregnant glance with Sam.

               “We’ll be in touch,” the platinum blonde angel replied curtly. The air was suffocating with tension, Dean tried to get Sam’s attention and Cas glared at his former puppet master.

“Wait, what am I supposed to leave like there isn’t something else going on here?!” Dean bellowed at Naomi, who looked like the cat that got the cream, rolled her eyes.

               “Boys, one thing at a time, please?” She gestured to a corner of the library, where a glowing pattern had appeared on the old tiles.

               “How’d you—” Cas stared in awe as a portal to Heaven opened before their eyes.

               “This is a one-way, temporary portal, Castiel. Don’t try to stowaway or the deal, all of the deals are off. Do I make myself clear?” Naomi glared at each man like a field trip chaperone. The men nodded, but Dean’s jaw worked over all of his unanswered questions. The pounding in his head intensified the moment Naomi arrived, which almost, was a relief. It meant Mikey knew something was happening and his suspicion was enough to swing Dean’s vote.

               “Alright boys,” Dean sniffed. “See you on the other side?” He shook Cas’s hand before pulling him into a brief hug. Sam stood waiting, an arm up and one underneath, they embraced as equals. Another risk, another potential goodbye.

               “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, bitch.” Dean chided, giving Sam a knowing smirk.

               “Too short a list, jerk,” Sam tossed back, as Dean took Naomi’s hand like the kid forced to partner with the teacher in dance class. The portal swayed and flickered, the angel and the hunter pulled skyward, though Heaven was much farther away than the instant transport suggested.

               “Sam?”

               “Not now, Cas.” Sam stormed off, thumbing through his phone, needing to make some calls.

^*^*^

Read On: A New Normal

[thelightofthebane]

A rainbow for you

Summary: Alec challenges himself at making a very magical gift for his husband. What could go wrong, right? Pairing: Magnus Bane/Alexander Lightwood

You can also read here: ao3

So, this is a gift for @aria-lerendeair because she deserves a lot of sweeties and much more. (°◡°♡).:｡

________________________________________

Yellow.

Joy, brightness, hope.

Petals of sunflowers to shine as the sun, of daisies and buttercups to bring the freshness of Spring, of yellow zinnia flowers for the fond memories they share since day 1.

Alec plucks them out, one by one, with utmost care and thoughtfulness. His calloused fingers brush the soft texture for a moment before ripping tiny pieces inside the wooden bowl.

Green.

Prosperity, health, resilience.

Petals of bells of Ireland for good luck, of green zinnias to brighten everything up, of green spider flowers for liveliness like the very core of his husband – even in the bad days –, of green cymbidium orchid for a little bit of naughtiness.

He smiles while crunches the petals and mixtures them with a sandalwood oil he spent the last week brooding. It was easy when your instructor was one of the smartest warlocks in the world, but like training, it could be a bit… distracting, not wanting to kiss your instructor all the time. So, he is doing everything alone now.

And because it’s a surprise for Magnus.

Purple.

Power, wisdom, creativity.

Petals of purple roses for calmness, of lavender for serenity, of violets to remember everything they had to go through to be together, of purple lily to remember that even though Magnus is the royal child of a demon, his grandioseness didn’t come from his blood, but from his heart. And, well, he would always be the king of Alec’s heart anyway.

Alec waits for the water to boil a bit more while checks a heavy book of spells. Most of it is written in some languages he doesn’t understand. Mundane ones, warlock ones. He needed to ask Madzie to translate a specific spell for him since Max is still training at the Spiral Labyrinth. The spell is relatively simple and it’s only required to add final touches to what he is creating by himself. When a spiral scent of grass and nectar tickles his nose along a silver line of smoke, he resumes his work.

Black.

Strength, mystery, uniqueness.

Petals of black pansies for all the dramatics, which is certainly another one of his husband’s traits, of black petunias to reinforce that black goes well with everything (and hell, Magnus was a living proof of that – black eyeliner, black eyeshadow, black nail polish, even black attires with all that jewels), of bat orchids because these ones in special Magnus brought from Malaysia, after a quick trip to Indonesia where they visited his husband’s homeland.

Alec stops for a moment to admire the flower. Magnus is still healing. His mother’s demise is a scar too deep to cure once for all, but he is getting better. Now he can go there for one or two days without cracking. He can put flowers inside a bamboo garden where his mother was buried centuries ago. He can pray without shattering, just wishing she is well – wherever her soul is – and not hating him anymore.

White.

Beauty, spirituality, new beginnings.

Petals of white hydrangea for unconditional devotion, of white magnolias for unconditional love, of white roses as a symbol of true love, the very one he shares with the man who is his home, his heaven, his life, his everything.

Their garden is full of these little ones. Magnus has always liked to maintain a certain variety from all over the world, but it was Alec’s request to spare a corner for just them. For someone who had spent most of his life in the shadows, wearing black, being able to see something brighter is some kind of relief. Of new perspectives. For Shadowhunters, it is a color for mourning. For him, it is the reminder of a rebirth to a better self.

Pink.

Grace, elegance, passion.

Petals of pink dahlias for kindness and commitment, of stargazers for everlasting love, of astilbes just because it’s also called false goat’s beard, thus reminding him of Magnus’ goatee.

Alec smiles fondly, tapping another book, one with flowers’ meanings. His choice of them has nothing to do with their magical properties (hence why he guaranteed they wouldn’t interfere in his project’s result), but only with their meanings. For all the colors he needs, he could just pick any flower, but he thinks it’s much more special choosing the ones who convey the best everything you feel for the one you love.

Orange.

Courage, excitement, warmth.

Petals of marigold for blissful joy, of cockscomb for silliness and laugh (and the delights of all the memories he has from non-official missions with Magnus that just proved how dumb they can be together), of ranunculus for all the charm his husband is overflowing. Like he doesn’t need an ounce of magic to make Alec feels like he is enchanted.

A weak puff of gold escapes the caldron. Almost there. He just needs to crush some more petals, cast the last binding spell and it would be done. Luckily, it would be finished before Magnus is back from one of his outside requests. That morning, he said something about Hong Kong and a problem with a warlock teenager who was trying to conjure real dragons to be her pets. And then he would go to the Veneza Institute to talk with Rafe. Their son is currently there for some internal affairs as co-Head of the New York Institute with Izzy’s eldest daughter. Alec couldn’t be more proud of his family.

Red.

Love, life, desire.

Petals of amaryllis for determination, of red tulips for timeless pure love, of red poppies for a statement that they’ve fought a lot of wars, prejudice, greater demons, and a whole society just to be together. Oh, and some petals of red roses, the ultimate symbol of love, because after thirty years of marriage Alec could be a bit sappy.

Magnus’ apothecary resembles a giant flower bed. Petals and flowers stem everywhere. Alec scratches his left brow for a moment, taking in all the mess. It wouldn’t take much to clean everything, but somehow it makes him recalls memories from when Max and Rafe were still kids, turning the loft upside down. He misses that. Perhaps he could suggest expanding their little family…

Puff.

Oh, it’s almost done!

Blue.

Serenity, inspiration, intimacy.

Petals of morning glories for the duality they represent, something both Magnus and Alec has to endure all the time as they navigate between being leaders and husbands, dark and light, demons and angels. Petals of hyacinth for trust and clematis for loyalty. And, at last, petals of blue rose. A rare one.

For immortality.

Moreover, for having the same mesmerizing beauty as Magnus’ magic.

Their magic.

Blue sparkles dances around Alec’s hands, warming them. Thanks to the enhanced and permanent Alliance Rune, he shares Magnus’ soul, power and vitality. They share a forever together.

Alec uses the magic he kick-started and pours into his creation, concluding it. Another puff and it’s finished.

A whole pot of magical and homemade glitter.

He smirks, proud of himself. It is a self-sustained glitter that replenishes by itself, can be used with anything and can turn into whatever color and exhales whichever flower fragrance the owner desires.

Just in time, he hears the opening of a portal at the loft entrance and knows that Magnus has arrived. Smiling like a mischievous kid, he puts a handful portion into a glass bowl and strides towards his husband to show him.

“Hello, darling!” Magnus smiles brightly, even though the tiredness of a lot of portal traveling has clearly worn him off.

“Hi,” Alec greets back, grinning and holding the bowl near his chest, then extending it towards Magnus. “I made this for you. My first attempt alone at breeding a substance induced by a shape-shifting spell.”

Magnus stares to all that colorful and vibrant glitter in awe. It took over a decade for Alexander asking him how to make potions, and even if in the beginning he had a lot of difficulties to get used to, his stubborn Shadowhunter was never one to give up a challenge. He isn’t a genius like Izzy, but he is smart and focused enough to hold up the game.

“Hmm…” Magnus takes a moment to appreciate his husband’s sweet gesture. The glitter has a distinct spectrum of colors more intense and brighter than the mundane one. Magnus smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners with tenderness. “I loved it, Alexander. Thank you.”

“It has a perfume of your choice, too.”

“Oh?” Magnus approaches his face to try and smell when something tickles his nose and he sneezes.

And then there is glitter in the air, on their faces and clothes.

They stare at each other for a moment, too shocked to say or do something. They are positively sparkling more than any fairy they have ever met.

Alec is the first to come to his senses, clearing his throat as he reaches for Magnus’ face.

“Here, let me…” he trails off, not sure what to say, when Magnus squirms under his touch. Alec’s hand freezes in the air as he stares at his husband with a shocked expression. Then, he tries again, and Magnus does the same thing, though now he also giggles. “What the…”

After calming himself and organizing his thoughts, Magnus also extends a tentative hand, brushing alongside Alec’s ribs. The result is some kind of jolt and a strangled sound from his throat, as if Alec is trying to not laugh.

“Darling, did you put roses in this glitter?”

“Yes.”

“Different colors?”

“…Yes. Why?”

Magnus hums, understanding.

“Roses have strong magical power, especially the blue ones. If you mix them together, the shield spell to neutralize their mystic effects will eventually crack after some time. One of the side effects of so much flowery powder is body sensibility. To pain or…”

Alec mischievous grin returned.

“Tickles,” he lifts his hands and wiggles his fingers towards Magnus, who backs off instinctively.

“Alexander Gideon Lightwood-Bane, don’t you dare…” Magnus says cautiously, narrowing his eyes.

“Why? After all, I do have magical fingers now. Very, very magical,” he smirks, approaching his husband like a predator.

“Don’t you try this bullshit of pun with me.”

“Why?” Alec repeats, finally cornering Magnus. “I learned with the best. A medium-rare one.”

“You will never let me forget that, will you?” He gritted his teeth. “It has been 31 years, Alexander. 31!”

“Never.” Alec finally grabs Magnus and spins him around, his fingers pressing the most sensitive spots of Magnus’ body that Alec memorized with utmost pleasure. His husband squirms again, tries to run away, but end up turning into a mess of giggles and laughs.

Somehow, after some time, Magnus is able to have his sweet revenge, and both engage in a very childish fight of who can make the other laugh more, stealing breathless kisses between fingers’ attacks and teasing words.

They could wait for the spell to wear off or try to make an antidote, but for now they would enjoy the contentment of their love’s smiles and laughs.

[shysneeze]

The Bet (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

The Bet

Summary: A bet she thought she could win until he started with the flowers... then she knew she was screwed. I hate writing summaries.

Warnings: the bet is for chocolate so a food tw most likely required, 

(Author’s Note: this was edited to fit third person narritive dec 2020, sorry if you don’t like the updates but i hope you don’t mind if youre coming back to it) 

(also were gonna ignore that a sunflower isnt exactly gonna fit in a notebook but their magic, okay?)

It started as joke, a sarcastic conversation whispered at the back of the library  as they studied. A flippant comment said in a teasing attempt to bruise his ego after a smug ‘don’t go falling for me, (Y/L/N)’, that instead started an irreversible chain of events. 

"I wouldn't fall in love with you if you were the last person on earth."

A simple comment that stayed flippant for only a second, before Draco’s eye met hers in a sort of challenge and the teasing tone of the whole conversation suddenly disintegrated right before their eyes.

"Are you sure about that?" 

They’ve been friend long enough for her to match his challenging narrowed eyes with a similar gaze of her own, then with a determined nod, she replied with her answer. 

"Positive."

"What about a bet?" He asked. "I bet I can make you fall in love with me by the end of the year."

"What would I get if I win?" (Y/N) quizzed. “Huh?” 

"What about a whole box of those Belgium chocolates you liked?" He smirked. "And if I win, you will tutor me in Herbology next year."

The stakes are high for something seemingly as superficial as chocolate, but, convinced of her victory already, she couldn’t resist the temptation. He knows her too well, remembers how she drooled over them the year he brought them back after Christmas. 

"Two boxes." She decided finally. “That’s my condition.”

"Deal."

Now, looking back it doesn’t quite seem worth it, mere chocolate for the excruciating torture that is Draco Malfoys attempts to woo her. It starts with pick up lines that she was hoping he would know better than to try on her, shamelessly and publicly. 

It would be easier to celebrate the fact that his failed attempts were bringing her closer to her prize if each instance of blatant flirting didn’t add her to Pansy Parkinson’s most wanted. No meal time or study session complete without a burning glare sent her way from the Slytherin girl, which would be easier to ignore if not for the constant sour comments that come with it. 

No, (Y/N) has already decided the chocolate might not be worth such a long, long year. 

. 

It’s not until halfway through term that Draco seems to catch on to why his plan is failing so spectacularly, why (Y/N) meets his pick up lines with rolled eyes and his flirting with bored laughs. 

He should have figured it out sooner as her friend, realised she’s not a girl who enjoys public gestures or corny pick up lines. There is a subtler way to her heart he should have realised much sooner. 

Today, the white jasmine delivered to her by owl and dropped onto her lap at breakfast changes things in their bet, and ever so slowly, her grasp on those chocolates loosens against her will. 

"A beautiful flower, for a beautiful girl.

D. Malfoy."

She can’t help how her heart races when she meets his eyes to find him smiling, a kinds smile that makes her gulp. Flowers are a subject she’s spoken of before, fascinated by their meanings. He was always teasing her for it, asking why she needed to find meaning in something as silly a pretty flower, but now, he’s turning it against her. 

Still, pushing down her surprise, she takes the flower delicately between her fingers with the note and subtly places it between the pages of her notebook, intending to press it. She convinces herself it has nothing to do with the boy smiling at her and their bet, that it’s only the flower she needs to keep, but even she knows its not fully true.

. 

Her notebook begins to catalogue all the ways Draco Malfoy is screwing with her to win. Each page marked by a different flower and its accompanying note. A lavender rose for love at first sight, a sunflower for warmth, happiness and adoration, a red tulip for elegance and grace and pink orchids for rare and delicate beauty. Each flower is left for her at breakfast or before she arrives in classes, and each flusters her more than the last.

She tries to find comfort in the fact that, with every flower, Draco Malfoy becomes more of a dork for ever researching it, she can’t fault his attempts anymore.

 Not when they’re working so well. 

..

The realisation that she is, in fact, falling for her friend isn’t a startling, all-at-once, realisation, but rather a dreaded fact she slowly has to come to terms with. It’s painful though, a consequence of their silly bet she hadn’t considered until now; that losing means falling for someone who won’t love her back.

She’s protected briefly by the concept of ignoring it, pretending it doesn’t exist and playing it out until the end of the year, no longer to win, but to protect herself from rejection. 

It’s a concept she’s had faith in until today at breakfast, a red rose, the unmistakable symbol of love, sat delicately on the table at her usual seat. It’s now that everything bubbles over, her determination dies out and a lump forms in her throat when she meets his eyes, lip wobbling pathetically. 

His own eyes widen panickedly, but she’s already rushing from the hall, trying desperately to hide her tears long enough to make it to her dorm. But as she’s learned all to well, fate always has other ideas. 

“(Y/L/N).” 

She skids to a halt at the sound of her own name, turning slowly to find it’s source in the tight-lipped frown of Pansy Parkinson, sighing at the sight of her furious glare, a glare she’s become well acquainted with over the course of the bet.

"Pansy." (Y/N) sighs. “How can I help you?”

The Slytherin girl straightens herself to become taller in an attempt to seem intimidating, taking a few steps forward with folded arms until she’s face to face with (Y/N) with a nasty glower.

“You can stay away from him.”

“Excuse me?”

“Draco.” Pansy explains in a sneer. “Leave him alone.” 

A laugh she’s bound to regret barrels itself out of (Y/N)’s lips, chocked by a suppressed sob that was waiting for release at the back of her throat. Pany’s face twists at the sound, somehow gaining more anger.

"Listen here, (Y/L/N)." She sneers. "I don’t know what your tragic backstory is but stop using it to get his attention. It’s desperate.”

“I’m not sure I understand.” (Y/N) admits. “You think he’s taking pity on me?”

“Why else would he be giving you flowers.” Pansy smirks. “You’re not exactly a catch.”

(Y/N) doesn’t have the energy to be insulted by the stupidity of the assumption, instead rolling her eyes and heaving out a sigh, much to Pany’s disgust. 

"I think you'll find it's quite the opposite." (Y/N) explains. “He started with the flowers all by himself- and if you don’t believe me you can ask him yourself- while you’re at it you can tell him to stop, tell him that he won.” 

“What?” 

“Tell him he won... he’ll know what it mean.” (Y/N) repeats in a sigh. “It all got a whole lot less fun when it started to hurt.”

She bites her trembling lip and turns determinedly away from the girl. The relief of the whole thing being over doesn’t quite sink in though, instead a painful longing settles in her chest, the longing for it to continue, if only it were true. 

“What are you talking about?” Pansy demands, tugging her back. 

“Merlin, I’m saying he’s yours.” (Y/N) sighs loudly. “But don’t expect him to suddenly confess his undying love now that he’s done ‘feeling sorry’ for me... it’s about to time you consider the possibility that maybe he doesn’t actually like you.” 

Too emotional to consider the consequences, she’s thrown off guard when Pansy shoves her away, sending her stumbling back slightly only to look back up to find the girls wand pointed at her and the outline of a jinx on her lips.

She resigns herself quickly to the fate of a pimple jinx or jelly-legs, cleanching her eyes shut in anticipation. So she can;t see Draco coming to her rescue until he’s calling her name.

"(Y/N)!"

He appears quickly putting himself between the two girls and approaching (Y/N) with a relieved look at having arrived on time. (Y/N) gives him a small, grateful, look, only panic when his hands find her waist and he’s leaning in. 

“I’m going to kiss you.” 

Whispered so low, Pansy can’t possibly hear it, (Y/N) goes to let out a panicked ‘what?’ when he lifts one hand from her waist to cup her cheek, and pulls her lips to his before she has time to realise it’s happening. Gentle, despite the circusmtances, and cautious, its nothing like she’s found herself imaging during daydreams and longing for in her sleep over the last few week. 

“W-what the-” (Y/N) stammers once he’s pulled away. “Draco?”

“Is there a reason you’re about to jinx my girlfriend, Pansy?” 

A pang of disappointment goes straight to (Y/N) chest at the realisation he’s acting only to throw Pansy off, that the kiss was nothing more than a disguise, a cover story. 

Pansy blinks rapidly between the pair, jaw dropping open. She stammers for a while, not sure how to start with her explanation, or her many, many questions. Then, with blushing cheeks she shakes her head violently. 

“No.” She assures. “Not at all.” 

She’s gone before he can berate her anymore, turning on her heels and speeding along the corridor. Draco waits until she’s truly gone before turning back to the bewildered girl whose lips he’s just kissed. 

Then, all at once, she’s letting out a mortified gasp and shoving him away, sepearting himself from him by several feet. He’s quick to hold his hand in the air in surrender, though for what, he’s not sure. 

“Woah.” He begins. “What’s wrong?”

"What's wrong?" (Y/N) repeats in disbelief. “You can’t just- just kiss me!” 

“I was saving you from Parkinson!” He defends. “Why are you so angry?” 

“You can’t mess around with my feelings, then kiss me!” (Y/N) bursts. “It’s not fair!” 

His eyes widen evern more at the tears that begin to slip down her cheeks and her frsutrated groan as she wipes them with her sleeves. She begins again to try and explain her anger, though every word is strangled by tears. 

“I know I said yes to the- the stupid bet, but I didn’t-.” She hiccups. “You weren’t supposed to start with the flowers and make me lose.” 

He tries to reach for her hands, desperate to pull her into his chest and hold her until she stops crying, but she’s pacing, and each attempt her hands it foiled by it.

“(Y/N).” He pleads. “Please, I never meant to hurt you.”

She stills, though her eyes still weep and her tear stains form a lattice on her cheeks. He reaches for her hands again, sighing gratefully when she allows him to take them. 

“I’d never try to hurt you, (Y/N).”

“I know.” She sniffles sadly. “I know that... I just didn’t expect falling for you to hurt the way it did because it was all part of a stupid bed.” 

“You fell for me?” 

The hope in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed, but is dismissed as a figment of her overly hopeful imagination. She nods solemnly, dropping her eyes to the floor and waiting for his reply.  

"Really?"

“The flowers got me.” She confirms. “You win.”

He’s silent for long enough for her to worry, that perhaps he’s working out how to politely turn her down, or holding back a laugh, the potential horrors are endless. Then, his hand leaves her and she’s sure he’s leaving until it his finger tips touch her chin, pulling her face gently up to meet his eyes. 

"That’s a relief. “He explains. 

“Merlin-” 

“Let me finish.” He smiles. “It’s a relief, because it’d feel pretty terrible to have to reward my crush for not liking me.”

"What?" She exhales. “You...”

"You didn't honestly think I looked up flower symbolism just for some stupid bet?" 

Her rbeath catches, she almost wants to cry again, suddenly too overwhelmed to do much else. Then  she’s smiling, a laugh bubbling in her chest that escapes in soft giggles.

"I did wonder why you were being dorky." 

" I can't believe you just called me dorky."

His pout causes another bout of giggles, one only silenced when he kisses her around, arms wrapping around her waist and a grin on his lips. There is no reason to pull apart this time, no glaring Pansy Parkinson to interrupt them, and neither make the move to pull away. 

A simple bet turned painful, but a bet so worth it in the end. No longer will her notebook of pressed flowers and love notes make her want to cry, instead a reminder of how she fell in love, hiccups and complications and all.

“Can I still get the chocolate?” 

“Merlin, (Y/N).” Draco laughs. “You can have anything you want from me.”

The next morning Draco meets her at her usual seat at breakfast, grinning at her with his hands held behind his back. She raises a curious brow as she approaches, grinning excitedly as he reveals a dainty daisy between his fingers.  seat, grinning at me with his hands behind his back.

"A white daisy for true love."

She rolls her eyes, but a giddy feeling has taken her body hostage as he slides the flower carefully into her hair. It’s a feeling she suspects she’s going to get to know quite well.

"You are such a dork."

[selkie-elf]

Ring

Read the whole fic in AO3

This is the third chapter in my Taaktiz selkie fic “Song Of The Sea”. Find the warnings in AO3

“I’m sorry. I don’t think I understand. You already know who I am, I introduced myself yesterday, didn’t I ?” Kravitz asked, letting his fur fall all the way down. Before he could even notice Taako’s raising blush, he quickly settled the head of the seal on his lap. It might have been a while, but he remembered well how land creatures reacted to nudity.

“Yeah yeah I know your name and you know mine, but like… what are you? Are you like fairy folk or something. Why… why did you came here? Are you here to drown me?” Taako gulped down the lump in his throat and faced Kravitz again. He wasn’t even sure what he was feeling. Fear? Comfort? This was just too absurd. Kravitz giggled a bit, seemingly amused by Taako’s blushed face.

“ If I wanted you to drown, I had a perfect chance yesterday. Your mother never told you about selkies?” Kravitz asked, settling his hands on to his lap. Taako’s ear flinched at the word, but his expression didn’t change. “Not really. Me and momma didn’t really get along to be honest” Taako sighed. Kravitz noticed how the elves tail started to draw slow circles around. “But it seems you are familiar with the story?” “ My brother-in-law told me a bit. Beautiful people who can turn into seals,right?” Taako said and threw a fishbone to the waters below. Kravitz almost jumped after it, before realizing that he would only make himself look like a fool.

“Yeah. That’s like the basics” Kravitz said, nudging himself a bit closer to Taako, when he noticed that the elf had taken another fish from the basket and started to gut it.

“ So, what does mister “in reality I’m a greedy seal who likes to hang around near dangerous fishing nets” does on my deck? Are here just to beg for free fish?” Taako raised an eyebrow and threw a fish to Kravitz. Even in his human form the selkie still catched the fish with his mouth. Taako let out a small laugh when the man grabbed the fish like puppy would grab a ball his owner had just thrown at him. He took a gently bite of the raw fish. It seemed that even in his human form, his teeth were still the same sharp teeths of his other form.

“ I should ask that question from you. Like I’m pretty sure that you didn’t just call me to offer me free fish, though I’m not complaining” Kravitz smiled and took another bite. Taako could hear the sickening crunch of small bones as Kravitz continued with his meal. “And what do you mean by that? I think you can drop the “oh I’m a magical creature, wow at my presence”-act. I’d just like some answers” Taako groaned, feeling the blood drip down his hands. “ You cried seven tears in to sea. You called me and… it’s my duty to answer a call” there was a sense of hesitation in Kravitz’s voice. “And then you almost drowned and of course I had to help you but I know that wasn’t the only thing I need to do” “ So, you are here to help? With what?” Taako asked. Kravitz’s shoulders tensed up a bit. “ Well. I don’t know…” “ That’s okay. I don’t mind you hanging out near our deck, but please be careful. Sazed has nets all around, it would be a shame to find you one one day, all tangled up and drowned” Taako said calmly, concentrating on the fish.

Kravitz felt lost. Taako just sat quietly splashing his toes in the water, not even looking at him. An awkward silence rain over the two men as they just stared at the black water below them.

“So you have a husband?” Kravitz broke the silence. “Yeah. For a while now” Taako answered. “Was he the one that came look for you last night?” “Yeah. That’s Sazed”

“ Are you happy?”

Taako’s hands stopped. Kravitz gathered his fur around his hands, ready to jump to the sea. The knife in Taako’s hand looked sharp, making the scar on his back ache with a bad memory.

“I think. I’m not sure. I… we at least were happy” Taako dropped the knife by his side. The wedding ring on his finger was stained. He had not bothered to take it off for so long. Taako knew that if he took it off, he would see the beautiful carving of their wedding day and Sazed’s name inside the ring.

***

Their wedding had been nice and small. Not that many people had even been invited. Magnus with his wife, Barry, and even a rare sight, a Taako’s relative, Aunt Orchid with her two children had arrived to the wedding. The children had trouble staying in their seats while aunt Orchid had just watched the ceremony, not once putting out her pipe. In the end, most of the seats had been taken by Sazed’s friends. But Taako hadn’t mind it. It was still positive attention. And that surely was what he had needed. Sazed’s friends had cheered and clapped as the newlyweds had read the vows to each other in front of the priest. Sazed had looked handsome in his black suit, and for once in his life he had combed his hair. Taako had felt beautiful in his white dress, with a crown made of lupines on his hair. A much wanted change for the black skirt he had worn for the last couple of months.

“I do”, Taako had said. And he had not lied. That moment, Taako had truly believed that he would love Sazed forever. And when Sazed had leaned closer to kiss him, Taako had truly felt loved. They had made a promise to each other to stand by their side. Taako loved him. Taako loved him so much. He had already helped him through so much, and when Sazed had dropped to the his knee and promised to buy him a house on top of the hill, he had no other option than to say yes. He didn’t want to say anything else than “Yes”

Magnus had cried through the ceremony, sobbing uncontrollably with Julia patting him on the back. Taako was happy to see a small smile on Barry’s face when he had wiped away the corner of his eyes as he silently clapped. The children had been more interested in the table full of goodies that was waiting for the wedding guests.

Food had been, of course, Taako’s own cooking, and amazing as ever. Magnus and Julia had asked if Taako would be willing to do catering to their wedding as well and Taako had happily accepted offer.

Aunt Orchid had proceeded to complain about their choice of priest. A dirty, hippie looking fella with mud under his fingernails in her opinion was not a fitting choice for such a ceremony. Even when Taako had tried to explain that mister Highchurch was their friend and he much rather had his marriage blessed by a friend than a stranger Orchid had just turned her nose up and muttered something how she was not surprised that others of their family had not shown up. Taako really had wanted to shout something mean about hoping that none of them had shown up, but Sazed had asked him to dance.

While they had danced their wedding waltz, Barry had disappeared somewhere. Taako didn’t even realize it at first. His head was already spinning so much from the dancing and the alcohol, that one guest missing had hardly even passed his thoughts. Only when the others had joined the dance floor, giving Taako a good moment to rest his feet for a moment, had he noticed his brother in law missing. Magnus was too busy being spun in the air by Julia and Merle was in middle of a conversation with Orchid, which neither of them really seemed to enjoy. Taako looked around for awhile, before seeing the similar silhouette sitting in the shore.

“What the fuck are you doing now Barold?” Taako whispered to himself before starting to walk towards him. Taako knew that Barry wasn’t the biggest fan of big social gatherings, maybe he had just needed a breather? A small voice in Taako’s head however suggested a much worse scenario.

“How’s it going? Wanna go dancing?” Taako smiled. He would have sat next to Barry but he had not wanted his beautiful dress to get dirty.

“Oh Taako. Sorry. I just needed some time. I’ll be back soon”, Barry muttered. Taako sighed and patted Barry on the back.

“If you want to go to take a nap, there is a bed in the guestroom. You’ve drank quite a lot Barold” he said. Barry’s shoulders quietly trembled under his hands and his hand was holding his necklace close to his heart.

“ Do… do you think if I had proposed she would have said yes?” Barry whimpered, staring at his feet, avoiding Taako as much as he could.

“I’m sure she would have carried you down the aisle immediately”, Taako answered. He tried to keep his voice nice and even. This was his day. Last two ceremonies that he had attended had been in honor of his sister. They had been ceremonies to cry about her. This was supposed to be his day. His day to be happy.

“ She would have looked beautiful”, Barry sighed. Taako nodded. Yeah sure they had had plans. A double wedding. Both Taako and her throwing their bouquets at the same time. They would have celebrated and been so loud that their happiness could be heard all the way from mainland. They would have so happy.

So what? Plans had changed. Taako still wanted to be happy.

“Okay Barry. You know what? Sit here as long as you want. Come back when you are not making me sad anymore” Taako said dismissively and started to walk away, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes.

“Taako, I didn’t mean…”

“Well then what the hell was your objective!? I’ve spent last half a year wallowing in my sorrow. Yes she is fucking gone and you were to much of a coward to ask her to marry you. That’s not my fault! Fucking let me be happy!” Taako’s hand fisted on his wedding dress as he tried to calm his breath.

“ Do you really think Lup would had wanted us to cry about her death on my wedding day? This is my fucking day. Don’t ruin it for me!”

***

“Taako?”

Taako flinched under the sudden touch. His fingers were still wrapped around the wedding ring, tear flowing slowly from his eyes.

“Oh my gods, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to. I- I shouldn’t have asked! It’s just that usually when people call for selkies, they... “ Kravitz started to ramble, clumsily wiping Taako’s face with the back of his hand. Taako’s hands grabbed the selkie’s wrist gently. A small smile crept on to Taako’s face as he placed one Kravitz’s hands on his own cheek.

“It’s okay. It’s just..it’s been awhile since I have thought about that day” Taako sniffed. “I’m sorry Taako, I didn’t want you to feel bad” Kravitz whispered, leaning just an inch closer. “ It’s okay. But going back to your original question...I’m not sure. I can tell you the day I fell in love with him. I could tell you how much I did love him. It’s much more harder to pinpoint the day that I...didn’t anymore.” Now Taako found Kravitz’s hands gently combing his hair. It was something that Sazed had done a lot after Lup’s death. A familiar feeling of comfort and safeness.

“Taako?” Kravitz asked carefully, when the elves breaths had started to become steadier again. The elves grip on his wrist had started to ease, before he finally dropped his hands by his sides. “ Taako. I want you to know that… I’m here to help. I don’t know how to, yet...but I’ll be here” Kravitz’s voice was calm and gentle. Sincere. Taako wanted to believe him. “Okay” Taako sniffed, leaning his head to Kravitz’s bare chest. He could hear Kravitz’s pulse starting to raise, as the selkie’s hands wrapped around his back. “I’ll have to go soon. Is it okay if I visit in the evening?” Kravitz asked, drawing slow circles on Taako’s back. “No, Sazed will be home. He is leaving tomorrow morning. He wants us to spent the evening together” Taako muttered. Kravitz nodded lifting Taako’s chin up with his thumb and index finger. “ Would the night be okay then?” he asked. Taako smiled, bit unsure “ I think that I can make up a lie to excuse myself for a nightly walk. I’ll bring the storm lantern. If Sazed wants to come with me, I won’t bring the lantern ” Taako explained, nudging himself from Kravitz’s embrace. “I’ll keep that in mind” Kravitz said, gathering his fur around his body again. “But you’ll come back, promise? I still want to know more about mister sharp teeth” Taako asked, reaching for the knife again. He knew that any minute, Sazed could come back home, and he still had a lot to do. Kravitz nodded, almost bowing his head to Taako. “I promise”

Kravitz pulled the hood of his fur over his head. Taako watched in awe as the seals eyes, that had been empty just a second ago, were now filled with the golden glimmer. And in a loud splash, he was gone.