#and the fact that even after all of that rejection and loathing she still found a place for herself where there was people

[girlatrocity]

MAN.

[snowsinterlude]

misunderstood.

(coriolanus snow x f. reader)

summary: being the only district girl other than sejanus plinth and having to adapt to the capitol, you thought you could still count with coryo. it seems like you were wrong.

based on this ask

c.w: district n capitol reader, coriolanus snow, coryo being kind of a jerk, heartbreak, drama, quite the slowburn, fluffy, angst, reader has a crush on coryo, mentions to bullying, reader is shy and insecure

moving from district 4 to the capitol after the war when you were small, you never forgot your roots. or whatever was left of them.

your father and your mother made sure to educate you the best they could. private teachers, whatever they could afford witth the new money they had.

now, at the age of seventeen, the closet person you had within you at the academy was coriolanus snow.

athletic skinny, smart, pretty, blonde, gorgeous coriolanus snow. the one boy you knew that probably had a liking to you even if it wasn't much.

of course you would develop a crush on him. he was so gentle with you, so kind. so good to you, he was always there for you, specially since you were so shy, even more shy to defend yourself, so he was always taking the matters into his own hands, defending you from any dumb jerk who thought less of you.

however, as you walked through the academy in search of him, you found festus voice, and your name coming out of his lips.

“so, snow. why does the district girl is always clinging on you?” he asked, and you immediatly hid himself behind the wall, waiting for the answer.

now you could know his thoughts about you! now you would know of he really liked you, if he felt the same, if-

“man, she's a leech.” he said, and you gulped your heart back “i only tolerate her because the teachers always tell us to “be nice” to her, but honestly? sometimes i can't stand her.”

oh.

so that was it? what you thought to be love, kindness, was only tolerance? not even once of kindness was there on his voice, not even one bit of respect- he hated you. maybe he loathed you too. you were probably the same thing as an insect to him. a fly. buzzing on his ear, getting on his nerves.

with that in mind, you rejected every move he made towards you- you loved him, and it hurt. but more than that, the fact that he tolerated you during all those times, made everything worse.

“y/n! finally, i found you-” he said, and you passed through him like you hadn't seen him, like he was invisible. like the way he said your name didn't make your heart flutter and your eyes shine.

you distanced yourself from him the best you could. it didn't matter anymore. he didn’t like you. he never did. didn't even consider you a friend or anything. a leech. a leech. a blood sucking energia draining leech.

without coriolanus by your side, without him protecting you, the only one who could defend you was yourself, but would you do it?

of course not.

you're nothing compared to them. you're district. they're not gonna allow you to be or feel anything other than mediocrity.

you didn't stand up for yourself under any circumstance, letting the bullying be done, letting the food fall to your hair and letting your material things suffer further damage because of their hatred towards districts- towards you. no one was able to help you. no one wanted to help you. and even if they did, you didn't want to bother anyone.

it was humiliating.

"gosh, finally coriolanus noticed what a waste of time it is to be around you," a girl said, accompanied by whoever was by her side. you didn't bother looking up, seeing their faces and the way they looked at you was humiliating.

"c'mon now, don't be quiet just because we spoke the truth." she said, poking your head with her index finger. you closed your eyes shut. this corridor always seemed to happen something that would hurt you?

"hey," his voice. it was his, and you almost looked up to see him, to see him in this stupid uniform, in this stupid hair of his, those stupid expressions of him. "leave her alone."

"coryo-" the girl said, looking up behind you.

"don't call me coryo. i never allowed you to. leave her alone." he said again, and the girl flinched a bit, but she left after giving you a last stare.

"you were lucky, he's just taking pity on you."

"leave!" he growled, putting you behind his back and watching the girls go away.

there was an awkward silence between both of you, and then, when he began to spoke, you interrupted him.

"thank you," you said. "but you don't need to pretend anymore."

"what? y/n, i-"

"-i hear what you said." you interrupted again. "i'm a leech. i don't want to be a leech to you. not to you."

"y/n."

"i thought you liked me." you said, your voice hitched by how much you wanted to cry. to come undone.

"i do like you."

"no. you don't. if you did you wouldn't say those things. if you did, you wouldn't call me a leech. you don't like me."

"i lied"

"i know you did. that's all you do. you lie about a lot of things, i just didn't think you would lie about me too."

"i'm sorry, i was wrong. i don't know why i said that but please- forgive me."

you cried. finally, after so many days crying only to the warmth of your room, you cried freely at the sight of him, at the sound of his words.

"you're so stupid," you sobbed

"i know. i am." he hugged you, arms surrounding your shoulders as you cried on him. "i like you, y/n. i really do."

"you're gonna have to proof that."

" i will."

and he did. coming to the class with his hand on yours, sitting by your side, letting others know that he liked you, that he would protect you. that he loved you.

it wasn't a surprise to others when you began to date. it was a surprise to you.

but finally, the misunderstood was over. and just like that he was head over heels to you.

[otomehonyaku]

Diabolik Lovers Lost Eden Stellaworth Tokuten Short Stories スペシャル特典小冊子 ☽ Ruki ver.

This short story booklet was part of the Stellaworth set for Lost Eden! Keep reading below the cut for Ruki's version. Yuma's, Kou's, and Azusa's are coming soon!

S ☽ [Ayato’s version by @kyouxa] [Laito’s version by @kyouxa] [Shuu’s version] [Reiji’s version] [Kanato’s version] [Subaru’s version]

M ☽ [Ruki’s version] [Yuma's version] [Kou’s version] [Azusa’s version]

TK ☽ [Carla’s version] [Shin’s version] [Kino’s version]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As always, special thanks to @karleksmumskladdkaka for providing the scans ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ Please do not reuse or post my translations elsewhere or translate my work into other languages without my permission.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

When I think about it, I have rarely been alone since those three became my brothers. It is not that we spent 24 hours a day in each other’s presence, but the fact that I had people to call family again after losing everything eased my loneliness.

I wonder if that’s the reason why I am still genuinely not used to not being in the pictures that my brothers send us from time to time, even though I don’t really want to admit it.

The one who’d made the suggestion after a while of living together was her.

“Why don’t we send them something back?”

And so the seed was planted.

“If I’m also thinking of sending them pictures, then they must be thinking the same thing at home,” she told me with a smile, “so I’m sure they’ll be happy if we do.”

I knew that she had a point, but there was a certain awkwardness to taking staged pictures with her and sending them to my brothers. I considered flatly rejecting the idea at first because I thought it was embarrassing, but I came around immediately when I remembered the way her face had brightened when she brought it up.

The two of us ran away from the human world. From Kou, Yuma, and Azusa. Ever since she and I started living together in a crumbling Eden, I have begun to realise something–I have become completely beguiled by her. Or, rather, I might have had a soft spot for her since the beginning, but lately, the moments when I dropped my guard around her have increased considerably. Of course, I cannot convince myself to tell her that.

It’s only natural when I consider all we have been through together. To stay behind in Eden even after the war ended, then, was nothing but my own selfish idea. She was under no obligation to join me.

Nevertheless, she has stayed with me all this time, and she has truly helped make the best out of every day. It’s simply impossible not to love her for that, even though I know she had wanted to be by my side from the beginning. 

In all honesty, I am happy. Maybe that’s what has turned me into such a softie, I thought, smiling wryly. I was loath to admit it, but the plain fact that I had found happiness with her was probably the reason why.

“Ruki… Don’t you want to take a picture?” She gazed at me a little nervously. Maybe she thought she had upset me because I had kept quiet.

“No, it’s a good idea. Like you said, I think Kou and the others would love that.”

“Let’s do it, then!”

“Yes, let’s.”

Before I had even finished speaking, she darted out of the room to get the camera. As I watched her run off, I realised my approval might have pleased her more than it would my brothers. My expression inadvertently softened at the thought.

☽

She told me the camera was a gift from Azusa. Come to think of it, the photo album that my brothers had given me a little while ago had also been Azusa’s idea.

“Smile!”

“...Wait.”

I grasped her hand before she could click the shutter.

“What’s the fun in a picture of me by myself? Get over here.”

She hesitated a little, making some foolish suggestions on how we should take our picture, but I ignored her and snaked an arm around her waist. Holding her close to me would make things much easier.

“This way, you’ll be in the frame too,” I whispered into her ear. 

Her shoulders twitched a little as she held her breath, and her ears started to redden. What a hopeless girl. I was sure this was not the side of her she wanted recorded on film for others to see.

If I truly cared for the picture for my brothers, I would have stopped there. However, the feeling of her warm body in my arms was too tempting. I decided to tease her a little more. I leaned down to whisper in her ear again, closer than before. 

“Save that face for later tonight.”

Her voice quivered as she whispered my name in response... 

Oh, this was bad. I wish I could say that I truly intended to leave it at teasing, but my body was acting on its own.

Sorry, Kou, Yuma, Azusa–you will have to wait for the picture a little longer.

However, when she understood that I wanted to take the camera from her, she spoke.

“But… we really are going to send them a picture, right?” So, let’s actually take a proper picture. Her unspoken words lingered in the air. She had gotten more perceptive recently.

“...Of course. Let’s continue this tonight, then.”

I let out a heavy sigh. 

I really had been going soft, but it could not be helped. Especially not around my lovely wife.

[strawberryspence]

this is PLATONIC. love can be platonic. and that’s what this is. if i see anything non-platonic stobin tagged in my rbs, i will delete this.

this is inspired of that quote from dolly alderton, “nearly everything i’ve known about love i’ve learned in my long time friendships with women.” i said the word love so many times, it’s not real anymore.

anw, happy stobin month. their friendship means so much to me. so here’s something sappy.🍦

-

“What is love?” El asks him, with that bright eye curiosity that makes her— that makes her the best of them all in more ways than one.

Steve blinks at her, dropping the whisk he’s holding and thinks.

What is love?

It’s easy.

Steve smiles to himself as he thinks of a time where he would have floundered for an answer, searched for it in the empty corners of his heart and home, in the unblinking red light on the voice machine; waiting for something, anything.

Nearly everything Steve Harrington knows about love he has learned from Robin Buckley.

First, Steve learns how to fall in love with the most unlikely person in the crowd. Robin was, and will always be a better person than him. From her, he learns how to fall in love, admit it, and accept the fact that it won’t always get reciprocated. That’s okay, because in exchange of that rejection, would be something better than he could ever imagine.

Love is a friend. A real friend.

Second, Steve learns that love— is love. It isn’t something meant to be put into a box, it isn’t just one thing. It’s not just girls for boys, or boys for girls. It’s for everyone, it’s for anything your heart wants.

And when he finally came to the realization that he didn’t fit that box too, Robin held him for hours. Assured him that it’s okay, that if that’s who he is, she will still love him because of it, never despite it.

Love is being true to yourself. It’s freedom while being held by your person.

Third, Steve learns that love can be quiet. It’s not always hiding under the covers as your parents fight from across the room, it’s not loud pounding music as the love of your life tells you that you’re bullshit.

It can be found in quiet afternoons, while reading a book with your best friend. It can be found in quiet evenings, as you both try to paint in silence. It was sitting, in a field behind a stolen RV, making molotovs in silence, both terrified they’d be dead tomorrow. It can be found in the middle of the night, after a terrifying, too real nightmare, just bundled together holding each other's hand.

Love is quiet. It’s peaceful and content, even when its hard.

Fourth, Steve learns that love— the real one— doesn’t have an expiration date. He once thought that it’s always been like that, that for him it’s always been meant to be like that. There is an end date. That one day day everyone he loves will realize what he truly is… bullshit. Like when his parents started to learn that he was too much, and too little of what they want and needed, they started leaving more often or when Nancy realized she deserved someone better, it’s over.

Maybe, he’s still waiting for the day when Robin finally realizes that she’s so much better than him, that she could find someone better, that Steve can’t really be her platonic soulmate. Because soulmates— God— they’re two halves of one whole. But how could he ever live up to that? He doesn’t think he could ever, not when Robin’s got all the good parts when they were split into half.

But there’s an unspoken trust. A tiny voice in Steve’s head that tells him, above all the noise and self loathing, a voice that sounds so similar to Robin’s says, “Robin won’t do that to you. Not ever.”

He holds onto that voice, clutches at it with shaking hands.

Love is… Love is there. And you will pray, and hope, and beg that it never leaves. But love is also trust, so you hold on with that blind faith.

Fifth, Steve learns that the best love— it’s in the in betweens.

Love is when Steve’s having the worst migraine, so Robin cleans the store for him instead. It’s when his best friend got him a brownie, because she thought he’d like it. It’s when his bestfriend brushed his hair after a rough night, even if it’s drenched in sweat and tears. It’s the scar in his thumb from when the vodka bottle broke as they made molotovs. It’s when she finally snaps and locks him and Eddie in the pantry so they can talk about their feelings. It’s her weirdly proud smile when she opens the pantry, and they’re making out like their lives depended on it.

It’s popcorn stuck in between the couch from movie nights. It’s paint stains in his favorite blue jeans from the one night they painted his room. It’s the chip on the plate when they were eating and she chipped it from laughing so hard. It’s that old post note on the fridge that says, “Got you milk, Dingus!” that he never removed.

Steve Harrington has learned of love from everyone. From Dustin, to Max, to Eddie, to the rest of the kids. Even Hopper and Joyce, from Nancy and Jonathan. In some ways, he’s learned from his parents too.

It’s all different.

But in his core. In his truest core, in his deepest soul.

It’s all from Robin Buckley.

El is still looking at him, with a fond smile, like she can see the montage playing in his head. You know what? Maybe she does see it.

“What is love?” Steve repeats her question.

El hums, nodding.

“Love is a U.S.S Butterscotch Sundae.”

El giggles at his answer as Steve winks at her.

Steve turns to the open window above the sink. There’s laughter coming from the yard, where the kids are playing in the pool. Eddie’s reading Nancy a book, as Jonathan and Argyle lounge around.

Steve meets Robin’s eyes, and she smiles at him, raises a hand to wave at him.

Steve waves back at love personified.

(In Steve’s room, there’s an old recipe book. Given to him by his Grandmother, it’s filled with different recipes, some 50 years older than him, some newer. There’s a piece of paper tucked in between the pages, with a blue and white border and a little sailor hat. It’s stained from use and dirt. It’s not old, it’s not new, it’s from two summers ago. It’s a handwritten recipe with a note at the bottom.

Harrington,

I wrote this down because you kept forgetting the freaking recipe for the USS butterscotch sundae. Keep it with you, you dingus.

Buckley.)

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024, #32 determined

Chapters 1 to 8 here on AO3

If you like the tattoo AU give it some love on my AO3, please. It would mean a lot to me. TYSM!

The remaining chapters will be uploaded one every following day.

+++++

White Pony Tattoo - Part Twelve (determined)

Sherlock was completely stunned by John’s angry rant.

For once, witnessing the fierce side of John’s, the fearsome soldier, the way he was bristling with furious energy and righteous anger about Sherlock deriding and loathing himself was simply spectacular.

Also, because thinking about what John had actually said, Sherlock realized with growing surprise that firstly, he himself had never seen it this way and secondly, that John had made a brilliant deduction Sherlock had been so far uncapable of observing and thus, John was pretty damn smart, too.

Sherlock blinked rapidly, trying to compute the new point of view.

“I’ve never thought about it this way before.” Sherlock said in a small but not unhappy voice.

“Obviously.” John commented gruffly and sat down in the recliner chair again.

They were quiet for the next hour, the only sound to be heard was the whirring of the tattoo gun and Sherlock’s occasional instructions for John how to hold the arm.

It was a comfortable and contemplative silence as each of the two men pondered what had been said and what there was to be learned from it.

Sometime in the midst of the tattoo job, Sherlock began to speak.

“The tattooing helped a lot, with coping, I mean.”

Then the dam of keeping his past inside broke quickly and Sherlock told John everything. He had not been right out rejected by John after confessing his junkie past and the ongoing struggle of resististing to cure the itch. He hoped that John would still not reject him after confessing how stupid and gullible he had been.

“I’ve been studying chemistry at uni and apart from the equations and chemical reactions and experiments everything else bored me. I had no other hobbies and I especially had no friends. All of my peers thought I’m was weirdo and an asshole and shunned me for very good reasons because I was both.

I always wanted to be perfect, to fit in. Just be normal. But I am not a likeable person, I’m abrasive and obnoxious and I see things that people want to hide and I hurl these into their faces so that they’ll leave me alone.

One day I met Darren on campus, a drug dealer looking for new clients and he introduced me to cocaine.

It was heaven, John.

The cocaine softened all of this. I could concentrate better. I was happy, really truely happy with myself and my life for the first time since I was a teenager.

Shortly after, I fell in love with my now regular supplier and he became my first boyfriend. Darren might even have really loved me but that didn’t stop him from taking advantage of me.

He soon talked me into using my proficient chemistry skills for synthesising Ecstasy and I didn’t think a lot about it because he gave me free cocaine that I had quickly become addicted to.

I’ve been on a continuous high for over one year and have been able to hide it very well from everybody. In fact, my peers had become more friendly and open with me now that I apparently acted like what was generally perceived as “normal”. Which only confirmed my belief that without the drug I’d never be able to function adequately.

I had developed a severe drug addiction in the meantime. I was injecting cocaine several times a day and the veins in my left arm were utterly ruined.

The first time I tried to shoot up with my left hand using the good veins on my right arm I accidentally overdosed. It happened to be right here in the shop. Back then, the locality had still been a café. Mrs Hudson had run it, serving coffee and the best home-made bakeries. She found me unconscious on the toilet floor, barely breathing. She called the ambulance and I died on the way to the hospital due to cardiac arrest but they could reanimate me just in time.”

Sherlock was grateful that all the while he talked John merely listened without any judgemental comments. Being allowed to finally let go of at least some of the hurt was a huge relief.

“While I was in rehab, I made the acquaintance of another recovering addict who was a very skilful tattoo artist. When we were both clean, I asked her to put the white pony I had designed onto my back. Her art of painting with ink on skin intrigued me and she taught me all there was to know.”

“And now you are here.” John stated.

“And now I am here.” Sherlock confirmed. “And I’ll do everything to keep being here.”

“Including to keep everybody from eventually becoming part of your life?” John asked quietly. It sounded a bit defeated.

Sherlock sighed. “So far, yes.” He looked at John. “But that might change.”

“I’d be very happy if it would.” John gathered his courage. “If you would let me into your life.”

They watched each other silently for a minute, examining their feelings and what might be found in the depths of each others eyes. The seconds stretched out, trickling by agonizingly slow.

“I’ll make you a deal.” Sherlock said, fiddling with the tattoo gun. “We’ll finish your tattoo now. You will let it heal thoroughly for two weeks and I will think thoroughly about all that’s been said today. We both have to be sure.”

“That’s okay with me.”

“And then, we will go out on a date and have dinner, if you’re still interested in getting to know me by then.”

John had already opened his mouth to strongly object that he could ever lose interest in Sherlock but was shut off by Sherlock’s gesture to keep mum.

Sherlock smiled softly and pointed to his shop sign. “No arguing, John.”

“Okay, fine, good.” John nodded and swallowed. Somehow, a tiny tear of joy at the prospect to have a chance formed in his eye.

Sherlock smiled some more. “Also, no crying, John.”

++++++

Two weeks later, John arrived exactly on time at “Angelo’s Italian Restaurant” to have dinner with Sherlock.

This time, John did not hover in front of the door, he did not hesitate, or oscillate around on the pavement.

This time, John knew what he wanted and what he needed to do. Determined, he opened the door, entered and saw that Sherlock was waiting for him at a candle-decorated table for two.

+++++

(and they tattooed happily ever after)

Thank you all for reading, liking and commenting. It's been great to write this!

tagging some people @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @peageetibbs

[amandacanwrite]

Violet Thread of Fate || Part Nine : A Vigil

Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Join Taglist

POV || 3rd Person -- Gale Dekarios

Scenario|| Elinna Inklynn is an orphan with an uncanny ability to mess up even the simplest of spells. It’s not her fault; she hasn’t ever had access to a proper teacher. But she has had access to books, and she’s read about a certain gentleman wizard in Waterdeep that may just be willing to help her.

She books passage on a ship from the Moonshae Islands and sails to Waterdeep, only to be rejected by Gale Dekarios. He doesn’t take on apprentices.

But their paths become inextricably intertwined when an enormous Nautiloid targets the City of Splendors.

Word Count || 4,400 words

Warnings || Mentions of blood and fighting. Allusions to non-consensual biting by a vampire.

A/N || I just love writing Gale being working and protective. That's it, that's the tweet.

Taglist || @verba-writing @softvampirewhump @horizonstride @thoughts-of-bear 

@mymybirdie

@tiedyedghoulette @drabblesandimagines @madwomansapologist @hijirikaww @tryingtowritestuff24

@laserlope @auroraesmeraldarose @puckprimrose @dont-try-pesticide @cherifrog

@circusofthelastdays  @nourangul @crucibelle @fan-aaa-tic

Gale focused on the quiet, shallow breaths going in and out of Elinna’s lungs as he carried her through the caverns. He tried his best not to think too hard; not to over analyze the quality of each breath, how much time passed between each exhale and the following inhale, or the concerning blue quality to her faintly parted lips. 

It helped him, he thought, to focus on the fact that she was still alive, however dire her state was. And it also helped him refrain from incinerating the vampire spawn that drained her of the blood she needed to flush the toxin out of her system. 

The four of them were quiet as they walked, listening for where the rush of water became louder and trying to make it whatever underground stream would lead them to freedom and, hopefully, a cure for the little ingenue in his arms. 

Blessedly, it wasn’t long before they found the way out, though it required wading through waist deep water. Cold water. 

“Why don’t you let me take her?” Halsin offered Gale. “Best to keep her from getting too wet; hypothermia is not an ailment we should add to the litany she’s already got.”

Gale hesitated, loath to let her go after being separated from her once. But he handed her over, knowing he was right. 

Halsin cradled her like she weighed nothing at all and sloshed into the water, heading for where the moonlight streamed in at the far end of the cavern. 

Lingering nearby was Astarion, looking unburdened as ever. 

It made Gale want to shake him. 

“Why Elinna?’ Gale said, his tone tight. “Why hurt her and then coerce her into playing tour guide for you? Why couldn’t you just have asked for help from us like a normal person?”

Astarion looked a little surprised that Gale was speaking to him, his eyes widening for a moment before they narrowed again. His expression was oddly serious. 

“As if there is ever a reason for wanton cruelty,” Astarion said. “I learned a long time ago to stop asking questions with no answers. Maybe you should do the same.”

Astarion stepped into the stream and followed after Halsin. 

Briar came up from behind Gale and looked up at him. Gale was still looking at Astarion as he walked away and he found himself suddenly so very tired; so exhausted by everything that had happened. 

“Halsin is one of the most gifted healers you could meet, Gale,” Briar said. “Now that we’re out, I’m sure Elinna will be alright.”

Gale nodded and heaved out a breath before wading into the stream. “Thank you, Briar,” he said. 

They walked for a long while after exiting the caverns, finally setting up a small camp in a meadow. Briar took Astarion with them to look for the herbs and barks that Halsin required for the healing poultice as Halsin kept an eye on Elinna’s state and Gale took to setting up tents for everyone. 

As Gale worked on starting up a fire, he heard the faint tinkle of the bells on Elinna’s overcoat. Gale’s head whipped to look in her direction, thinking for a moment that she was rousing on her own accorf. His heart leapt but immediately dropped when he saw what had caused the sound. 

Halsin was stripping the outer layer of her armor off! 

“Wh-what?! Are you DOING?!” Gale sputtered. 

Halsin’s scared brow quirked. “I can’t very well work on her wounds while she’s fully clothed.”

“You can’t just disrobe her in the middle of camp!”

“I’ll need the light to work on her, and I’ll need to see if she has any other wounds that need treatment,” Halsin said. “Believe me, it’s not in an effort to ogle her. I’m merely trying to heal her. Being unclothed isn’t anything to be ashamed of. Certainly it’s nothing any of us haven’t seen.”

“I–I– just take her into the tent,” Gale stammered. “I’ll conjure light for your work, just don’t disrobe her out here in front of everyone, please.”

Halsin chuckled. “I understand wanting to keep the finer details of your lover to yourself.”

Gale almost choked. “She is not. My lover.”

Halsin’s brows shot up with surprise. “She isn’t?” he asked. “Forgive me. Your protective nature in regards to her–the way you went after her abductor–I just assumed.”

Gale’s face heated and he smeared his hand down it. “Just. Take her to the tent. Please.”

Halsin gave a private little smile before scooping Elinna up in his arms once again and taking her to the tent Gale had set up for himself and Elinna to share. He couldn’t decide if he preferred Halsin disrobing Elinna on his own, or if he preferred to be there. As the sound of bells came from within the tent, he still wasn’t certain. He sat down near the fire and dropped his head into his hands with a groan. 

Some time later, Briar returned with a burlap bag on their shoulder, Astarion close behind. The bag was brimming with various plant life foraged from the meadow beyond. 

“Where are they?” Briar asked. 

Gale pointed to the tent and Briar nodded. Leaving Astarion and Gale alone once more. Astarion sat by the fire, leaning back on their palms and crossing their legs. 

An awkward silence yawned between them, and then, seemingly out of nowhere, Astarion spoke. 

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” he said. “I know that what I did wasn’t considered very…eh…polite. But I truly never intended on delivering the girl to death’s doorstep. It was all just…bad luck.”

Bad luck–as if the elf hadn’t kidnapped her and forced Elinna into the very position that  led to this situation they were in. Gale inhaled slowly, rubbing his fingers across his brow, trying to cool his temper. Trying to be civil, though he didn’t want to be. 

“I can’t accept an apology on Elinna’s behalf,” Gale said. “I appreciate that you helped us get out of there in a timely manner so that she could be seen to. But I’m not terribly interested in being your friend.”

“Understandable,” Astarion said. “No one ever is.”

The vampire let out a guffaw at his self-deprecating joke before exhaling slowly. He looked toward the tent where the druids were treating Elinna and sobered. “I do hope she’s alright, wizard.”

“Now that is something we can agree on,” Gale said. 

“Who is she to you exactly?” Astarion asked. 

“A young lady who sought me out as a teacher a couple of days ago. I’d rejected her proposition and was ready to have that be the end of it, but the Nautiloid showed itself in waterdeep and stole us away…I presume you know what followed,” he said. 

“Intimately,” Astarion said with a cringe. “If you rejected her…why were you still traveling with her?”

Gale exhaled as he realized he didn’t really have a good answer to that question. Sure, they’d helped one another after being abducted by the mindflayers, but neither of them had any obligation to each other. He’d been telling himself that it was a matter of convenience, but the last day and a half had been anything but convenient. 

The truth was, in the few days he’d had the girl with him, he had rather come to enjoy her company; perhaps even relate to her insatiable curiosity. 

“She’s a kind young lady,” Gale finally said. “It felt wrong to leave someone so innocent and guileless to handle the wilds on her own.”

A half truth, Gale realized. And one he hoped Astarion wouldn’t challenge him on. 

Astarion snickered. “Well, she’s not that innocent,” he said. “You should have heard the sounds she made when I fed on her.”

Gale glared at the vampire spawn and he lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I’m just saying. It’s not every day that someone enjoys having their neck feasted on.”

“Stop talking,” Gale said flatly. 

“Jealous that you didn’t get to hear it for yourself?” Astarion teased. 

“You are making it very hard for me to avoid bloodying your nose,” Gale said. 

Astarion didn’t back down, seeming to relish Gale’s discomfort the same way he would have enjoyed a glass of warm blood. “Ah, the way she opened up like flower petals for me. The way she just melted like butter in my hands once she surrendered to it. The little moans she sighed out~”

He didn’t want to think about Elinna melting, or opening up or moaning. He didn’t want to picture the little catches of her breath at feeling a wicked pleasure in something she shouldn’t. She didn’t want to think about the ways her body might tighten in just the right places if he–

Gods he was thinking about it, wasn’t he?

“I wonder what she would have let me do to her,” Astarion said with wicked delight. “If I had let her stay conscious just a little longer.”

Gale couldn’t take it anymore. He balled one fist in the vampire’s doublet and used his other fist to land a blow right on his stately nose. There was a bit of a crunch and then the flow of dark, burgundy blood. Like blood that had been sitting in a vial for too long. Blood that didn’t belong to him. 

The sight of it, the realization that it was likely Elinna’s blood that spurted from his nose, was enough to set him in a rage. A scuffle ensued where Gale got himself poised above the blood sucking bastard and landed two more blows to his obnoxiously pretty face. 

Astarion laughed as his teeth stained red with more of that borrowed blood.

“There you go, Wizard,” Astarion said. “Get it out of your system.”

Gale put both of his hands in his shirt and thrashed him against the ground. “Don’t patronize me you arrogant little–”

“Gale!” Briar called from the tent where Elinna was being treated. 

Gale came to an abrupt stop, head whipping to where Briar stood in the open flap of the tent, backlit by the cantrip Gale had used to illuminate their work. Briar grinned. 

“She’s stable, if you want to come see her,” they said. 

“And her modesty is protected,” Halsin called from within the tent. 

Briar looked over their shoulder with a questioning glance and Halsin chuckled. 

Gale ignored it as he got up off of Astarion and hurried for the tent, eager to see Elinna healthy again, with some of the rosy flush back in her face. “Coming,” he said. 

Briar stepped out of the tent as Gale went in, clearing room in the small space. Halsin seemed to take up so much of the space as he sat with his glowing hands held over Elinna’s body, covered by a warm looking hide of what seemed to be a bear or perhaps a dire wolf. 

She was still unconscious, but some of the color had returned to her face, her lips a pale pink instead of a ghoulish blue. And her chest was rising and falling with slow, full breaths. 

“When will she wake up?” Gale asked. 

“The antitoxin worked well, but it will likely take a day or two for her body to recover the blood she lost. She may wake up briefly here or there, but the body does most of its natural healing while sleeping, so encourage her to sleep if she does wake up.” Halsin said. “We’d do well to get her to an inn; get her out of the elements and somewhere with warm, hearty food. Let us rest tonight and we can carry her to a nearby town tomorrow.”

Gale nodded and heaved out a sigh, his eyes burning with tears he refused to allow. 

“Halsin, thank you. Thank you both for everything that you did. I’m in your debt.”

“Think nothing of it,” Halsin said. “At my age, with all that I’ve seen. It’s just a relief that something went the way I hoped it would. Now, let me leave you to your charge. Briar and I will retire to our tent and we’ll see you come morning.”

Gale nodded and Halsin wasted no time in seeing himself out. Elves rarely needed to sleep, but after the long day, he was sure Halsin was looking forward to some much deserved slumber. 

As the flap to the tent closed and Gale was left with Elinna, he found himself not wanting to sleep. He worried that doing so would undo whatever luck they’d struck in getting her back from the brink of death. He decided he would keep an eye on her instead, perhaps read a good book while he waited for the coming morning. Try to find something interesting to share with her when she woke up. 

But shortly after he plucked a book from his pile of things and started flipping through it as he listened to the calm breaths flowing in and out of Elinna’s lungs, the wizard found his eyelids began to droop. 

And before very long at all, he too found rest. Sitting next to Elinna, his head propped on a folded hand, his book discarded in his lap. 

As if he held quiet vigil over her as he slept.

[litfanatic]

UNDONE -An Elucien Oneshot

Read on AO3

Author: Litfanatic

Words: 2,794

Summary:The Prince of Day was undone by her, those were his words, but what he needed to know was that she was even more so undone by him.

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A dreamless night.

She’d longed for one, and now she had more than she could ever imagine.

The brisk morning breeze sent a shiver over her leg that had escaped the warm cocoon—it was nearing winter, after all.

That was the only part of her susceptible to the cold. The rest of her was bathed in warmth. Her mate’s glorious form was pressed against hers, his arms wrapped around her body. Even in sleep, Lucien clutched at her, as if he was afraid that he would lose her.

Guilt pricked at her mind as she thought about how she’d treated him over the years.

Elain could imagine what he would say if he knew her thoughts.

You did nothing wrong.

It was always your choice.

Elain knew that it was always her choice, but it didn’t take away from the fact that she treated him poorly. How she ignored him and avoided him. The least she could have done was be friendly. 

But you didn’t owe me anything, he would insist. That was the kind of male she had.

Instead, she had been on the verge of rejecting the bond. Rejecting that tie between them without fully understanding what it was.

Her family would have supported her decision—mostly. 

Nesta was never a fan of Lucien, loathing his part in Feyre’s Spring court suffering (as if they treated their sister much better when they were humans) and hating those quiet words that spilled from him during their making. Elain was the only one who knew what he felt as he said those words.

 The wonder, the confusion, the grief at what their bond meant for his past.

But she was content to let them think that he had tried to claim her. Anyone who knew Lucien’s past would never truly believe that. He was nothing like his named father.

Feyre’s relationship with Lucien was complicated. There was a part of her sister that was still bitter towards him, but Elain had also seen what Feyre had done to him, how she had used him. Sometimes when her younger sister set her mind to something, she found justification for those caught in the crossfire.

Cassian didn’t say anything, but Elain could see something in his eyes. Perhaps he once had thought himself to be on the verge of a rejected bond so he could sympathize with the male.

Even after the mistake, she saw the hope in Azriel’s eyes, but Gwyn still wore her necklace and his shadows still danced for the priestess.

Elain realized what he hadn’t, and even if she was to still pursue that relationship, a small part of her knew that her future wouldn’t be that different from when she was human. 

She wanted to be free to travel, to have her own adventure. To perhaps see the different courts that she’d secretly read about. To not be used as a pawn as Nesta was. To not be brought to heel.

But the High Lord of Night was a strategist—as brilliant as he was handsome. Those violet eyes wanted to know what she knew, but he wouldn’t dare enter her mind, not for fear of upsetting his mate. Yet, Elain knew that one day she could speak up, and one day he would. For the sake of his court and his family. 

Was she not both?

Rhys listened tensely as she spoke about possibly rejecting the bond. His face spoke of understanding, but if she had seen his mind she would have known better.

Her Sight showed her a few days later.

A vision of him questioning his emissary about the possibilities, and it struck Elain like a swift blade to the gut. She was already a pawn.

The way their voices carried when Lucien visited.

“Perhaps if you came by later, she would be back from the shops.”

“Oh you’re just about to miss her. Mor’s taking her for lunch in the Rainbow, but she’ll be back for dinner.”

“You have to come to Solstice, Lucien. What about Elain’s gift?”

On and on and on, they strung him along.

Over and over and over, he came.

Many might have called him a fool, but in the midst of a world that had been unfair to him—unfair to them all, Lucien carried the rarest magic. Hope.

That was her Lucien—through and through. Hopeful. Though he dare not utter his wants. Patient and Waiting.

And he was so full of patience, but Elain couldn’t help but feel that it was partially curated from a sense not being chosen—of being an after thought.

She had almost done that again to him with Azriel, and Elain still shuddered at the thought of how different her life could have been. She would have made a mistake.

Elain reached out to brush her fingers against to copper strands of her mate’s hair. Her cheeks flushed at the thought of the previous night as she frantically pulled at his stubborn braid in an attempt to feel him closer—to feel him deeper.

The cocky male had teasingly preened at her want for him, but that smile had slipped away an hour later as she was a top him and he became undone by her.

Undone. By. Her.

Those were his words.

Sweet Elain. Shy Elain. Pretty Elain.

The undoing of the Prince of Day.

The undoing of a future High Lord.

She couldn’t deny that it stroked her ego.

No one had ever made her feel like Lucien did.

She felt truly seen. Not the version that he wanted or expected. When those mismatched eyes gaze upon her—he saw everything.

What lay within. What she wanted. What she could be.

He asked nothing—required nothing of her. All he hoped was that she would love him as fiercely as he loved her.

They were equals in everything but that.

Elain was sure that she didn’t love Lucien as much as he loved her.

Within her heart of hearts, she knew that it wasn’t the same.

Elain loved him more.

She’d known how deep, how all-consuming, how all-encompassing her love was for him when it caused her to do the unexpected. When it caused her to almost be banished from the Night Court, and when it caused her to hold a knife to the throat of the High Lord of Spring.

That rage that caused her to drive the blade into the neck of Hybern reappeared at any threat to her mate.

He was not someone to cruelly jest about, which the Inner Circle has now learnt, for fear of learning any sordid futures. There was a cruel appreciation from her brother-in-law at her hypocrisy. 

Elain didn’t care—though she felt terrible after.

Even the beast of Spring knew better than to charge at what belonged to her, but Lucien didn’t need her to fight his battles. The sly fox with hidden powers.

But she would fight.

Over and over and over again. 

For him. Always. She’d give anything to hear that steady heartbeat which she once loathed. Elain would give anything to see the fire flare in his russet eye. To hear the mechanical whirring of his gold one.

Her goal was to ensure that Lucien was happy and content with the flash of his sharp canines directed at her. 

She loved nothing more than to see the look of contentment with a mixture of disbelief when they had dinner with his family.

The ones who loved him, all together under one roof.

Despite ribbed comments and sharp words, she saw his eye glisten when Eris gruffly presented him with one of his beloved pups for his birthday. Elain knew how precious that gift was, not only to Lucien. There was no one in the world that Eris Vanserra loved more than his brother. And now he could finally show it.

Elain smiled at the memory as she tugged at his loose braid, mildly surprise that he hadn’t stirred. Her smile grew wider at the fact that she had worn him out that much. It had taken her a while to match his fire because Autumn males...

 Most times, she barely could, but if she caught him after a long day of council meetings, there was a higher chance.

She knew how restless his sleep could be. Sometimes, he was plagued by nightmares of the past. The animal in her still struggled when he uttered the name Jesminda, but Elain knew that it wasn’t under happy circumstances. Not when his body writhed in anguish and great drops of sweat dotted his face.

She would clutch him tighter in those moments, murmuring words of comfort, placing kisses along his face, just as he did for her.

To see him at peace was her peace.

The world was wrought with too many wars, both physically and within. Now it was time for the sun to shine.

 She tugged harder, wanting—no needing, to see the molten river flowing across his back.

With the braid mostly loosened, Elain suddenly halted her movements.

He wore a shirt. Loose and wrinkled.

Her brows furrowed.

Where did it come from?

Yes, it had taken him a while to adapt to the Day Court attire, but he wore it. The expanse of his chest on display beneath the chiton-like garb, but somehow looped and wrapped to cover enough of his back.

This shirt that he wore was not present last evening. Elain would’ve remembered tearing it off of him.

He must have pulled it on in the early hours of the morning.

Again.

Why?

There was no way that he was cold. Lucien was heat. He was the sun itself.

There was one other reason that she could think of. Why a shirt appeared after almost every time they made love. Why he constantly angled his back away from her.

Sometimes she wanted to wake him by kissing along the broadness of his shoulders. Sometimes she wanted to encircle him as they lay soaking in the tub after a tedious day.

But Lucien didn’t want her to see his back. 

Even after all this time, he was ashamed of his scars. Ashamed of the uneven fleshmarks. Like misshapen rows of a ploughed field. Given to him by someone that didn’t deserve him, yet Lucien held on to hope and love for his friend.

That was what Elain really wanted to protect—Lucien’s heart. Not only because he had offered it to her, but because it would set him apart from all other High Lords. Lucien’s heart—his ability to look beyond tradition, to love humans, to dismiss classism—would unite Pythian in a way that no one else could.

But he needed to see himself the way others saw him. Elain knew that he thought the scar across his eye was a testament to being a naive young fae who didn’t know how to hold his tongue. Some called him foolish, but most thought him brave to speak against her, consequences be damned.

He was so much more than he saw himself. Lucien saw it in her—brought it out of her, and she wished to do the same for him.

Elain reached for that glowing thread between them, caressed it gently, soothingly. She brushed the foot that had escaped him along his calf, raising it higher and higher.

Skip.

Her heart skipped a beat. No—not hers, his. But it was still hers.

“I know you’re not sleeping,” she murmured lovingly to the head that was buried in her hair, to the mouth that was pressed against her neck.

His hand tightened around her, and the softest kisses began to trail lower.

“Am I not?” Lucien asked huskily, the remnants of sleep in his voice.

“I can feel every inch of you, my lord,” her tone lowered to match his.

The assault on her neck ceased as he pulled back to look at her. She saw everything in his eyes. Love and desire and love.

And she had to kiss him.

She had to show him, had to make him feel everything. To remind him that he was everything.

“Lucien…Lucien,” Elain pleaded as she struggled to remove the offending garment. Five times she tried to remove it, each time she got distracted by full lips.

“Stop.”

The words escaped her softly, yet firmly.

She meant it, but also didn’t, not with how his heat flickered across her her body, straight to her core, but of course, he ceased his ministrations.

“Is something—

Elain cupped his face, her thumbs gently brushing his cheeks.

“Take off your shirt.”

Lucien froze, his eyes filled with sorrow and resignation.

“Let me see them, Lucien,” she insisted, gently pushing him away as she scrambled out from under him. Immediately, she missed him, and Elain was sorry for the look of despair that he wore. The last thing that she wanted to do was hurt him, but he had to see—he had to know that he didn’t have to hide from her. That no part of her was ashamed of him.

His eyes darted away from hers as he sat up. Lucien turned his body so that his face was away from her. Elain sat on her knees as she watched the fabric glide off his back and pool on the bed.

A gasp escaped her as her hands flew to her mouth. She saw Lucien’s body tense at the noise that escaped her. His head dipped as he hunched over, his hair now a curtain hiding his face from her.

Pain bloomed in her chest. Sorrow and shame filled the space beneath her rib.

“No,” she breathed as her fingers reached out. Lucien fought a flinch as she touched him. Elain moved closer to him.

There were so many. Too many. An innumerable amount of scars in every direction.

She already hated Amarantha, but now it was ten-fold. She deserved a death worse than she received. Despite, Lucien’s mild forgiveness of Tamlin, this—this, Elain could not see past. At least, not anytime soon.

She had seen flashes of Under the mountain, but the reality of it in front of her was unnerving.

Elain leaned her head forward and brushed a kiss across his back.

Then another and another and another until his tension washed away.

She hated that he had them, but every scar was a part of Lucien, every scar told a story of his survival, and she would be loathed to make him feel less than he was.

She maneuvered around him and off the bed. He still hadn’t looked up at her. Elain moved to stand between his legs, her nakedness on full display before him. To show that it was okay to be vulnerable, especially with her. She reached to tilt his chin upwards. He was so tall that even when sitting, they were nearly at eye level.

“Look at me, love,” she encouraged earnestly. He slowly looked up, and her heart clenched at the silver sheen in his eye, at what she had caused.

Elain leaned down to press a kiss against his mouth, extending her feelings along the bond.

“Not from me, Lucien.”

Kiss.

“You never have to hide from me.” She brushed his hair over his shoulders.

“I love you.” She placed a palm over his heart. “Your scars do not make you less. Your vulnerabilities do not make you weak. Your kindness does not make you foolish.”

“All of these—her fingers traced the ones along his cheeks—and the ones we can’t see are a testament to who you are. What you’ve stood for. Who you’ve stood against.”

A kiss upon his scarred brow.

“And I—her voice broke—I love every part of you, Lucien. I know I ran from the bond for so long, and I saw you as part of it, as something being thrust upon me. But once I got to know you…Once I saw your beautiful heart, how could I—how could I not…”

“You are my sun…my light...my freedom and adventure.”

Another kiss.

Elain brushed a tear that fell down his cheek. She looked into his beautiful eyes, the mechanical one seeing more than the other. She hoped that it saw her truth. That it saw the truth in her words. She sent added reassurance along the golden tether between them then stepped back.

“So rise, mate. Rise, my Prince of Day and Autumn. Rise, my heart. Stand tall and strong because you are that and more. So much more, and I am completely undone by you.”

When he kissed her, she felt it within her soul. How he welcomed her words, and it was a start to him accepting them.

[walviemort]

Expecting a Secret [1/3]

Summary: After the events of 3x19, Killian is at his lowest after being rejected by Emma. When Snow's labor turns out to be a false alarm, Zelena offers Killian a deal: she'll leave the Charmings alone…if he gives her the baby she needs for her spell instead. There's just one hitch: he has to keep it a secret. At least it will only take 10 days, right? a/n: (slightly belated) HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY SWEET FRIEND @sancocnutclub !!! This is the full fic from the manip I posted last week. I meant to get this done in time for you bday, but it kind of ran away from me…and ended up being a three-parter instead of the one-shot I thought it would be! Hope you (and everyone else) likes it! I just really liked the idea of him trying to keep a whole entire pregnancy hidden. rated T | AO3 | 3.1k

Killian left the hospital feeling—-well, the worst he had in a long while. Perhaps he’d been rash in trying to get Henry out of town without his mother’s permission, but it was the only way he could think of to get around Zelena’s curse on his lips. 

Worse, though, was the fact that he’d lost the trust of not just Emma, but her family. It wasn’t entirely his fault—but some of it was.

It’d been clear he wasn’t needed or wanted at the hospital after it appeared Snow was going into labor, but it ended up being a false alarm; thank goodness, as they were far from prepared to protect the babe from the witch.

After a rather long moment of self-flagellation—in the form of watching the family take a well-deserved breath together in Snow’s hospital room, something he’d never be part of now—he shuffled off without goodbye, into the night.

His feet found him instinctively wandering toward the docks—further reminder of his shame, but he wanted to wallow in it tonight, punish himself further; it was what he deserved.

The vacant berth that had once held his ship was a fairly accurate metaphor for how he felt: empty, adrift, far from port, with only the churning sea to match his jumbled emotional state. He took a swig of rum, but the familiar burn did nothing for him.

“I warned you.”

He didn’t even flinch when he heard Zelena’s voice behind him; honestly, he expected it.

“It was pure luck they all showed up when they did. Otherwise, you’d have some more blood on your hands,” she went on, heeled footsteps sounding as she approached his side.

“The bloody hell do you want?” He was annoyed, but his reply had none of its usual bite.

“I want what I came here for. But now that you’ve told all the Charmings what my intention for you was, and now that they have their memories back, that’s all been dashed. Highly doubt the Savior is letting you get anywhere near her now.”

His heart somehow fell further, and it had already been near his feet. “No, I don’t imagine she will,” he concurred; were he and Emma’s situations reversed, he couldn’t say he wouldn’t do the same.

“That said, I still need your help to continue my plans.”

“Like hell,” he spat, then began to walk away—but she was suddenly in his path.

“Let me put it this way, Captain—you have two choices,” Zelena told him. “Either you can help me, and I leave Emma’s family alone,” she started, holding up one hand, “or I continue to go after all of them, no holds barred,” she finished, holding up the other. “It’s entirely your choice.”

Neither option was ideal. Knowing that Zelena basically wanted to wipe out the existence of Regina and Snow (and, consequently, Emma and Henry), he was loath to aid her in any way, shape, or form—especially considering she had no leverage anymore. 

But perhaps, if he did take her offer, he’d be able to find a way to subvert it—and redeem himself in their eyes.

“Fine,” he replied, albeit reluctantly. “I’ll help. Do whatever you need with me. But you must leave Snow, Emma, and their family alone.”

The wicked grin that took over her face should have been his warning. “Then we have a deal, contingent on one thing: you’re to actually keep it a secret this time.”

“Done.” It’s not like they’d listen to him, anyway.

She offered her hand to him to shake on it; he moved closer and took it. “It’ll be a pleasure doing business with you, Captain,” she said slyly.

He tried to let go of her hand, but she held tight. And her other hand began to glow that awful garish green, now held outstretched in front of her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, suddenly worried.

“What we just agreed on,” she answered, her eyes wide and seeming slightly unhinged. “Using you to get what I need.”

Then she swiftly stepped forward and shoved the ball of magic into his stomach. He hunched over for a moment, a slight cramping taking over, but then it dissipated, merely leaving him slightly sore. “What did you do?” he demanded, slightly out of breath.

“I still need a baby,” she said matter-of-factly. “So now you’re going to provide it.”

He wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. “That’s impossible,” he breathed, though his hand immediately flew to his stomach once she let go. “I’m—I’m a man.”

“Anything’s possible with magic,” she sing-songed.

His insides certainly felt different; that could be anything, though. “But won’t that take a while?” he asked, trying to call her bluff. “You’ve always struck me as the impatient type.”

“I am. Which is why this is going to go just a bit faster than usual. You only have to keep that under wraps for about 10 days.”

Shit—he’d already forgotten about that part, he’d been so distracted by the absolute insanity of what she’d apparently done. “How the bloody hell am I supposed to keep something like that hidden?” His mind immediately went to Snow and the very obvious protrusion of her stomach.

“You’re resourceful; you’ll figure it out.”

“Where did it even come from?” he nearly shouted, incredulous.

“The same place they all do,” she shrugged, but there was a glint of something else in her eye. “See you soon!” she farewelled, then disappeared in a cloud of green smoke, leaving him alone to figure out just what he’d gotten himself into—and what to do next.

——————————-

Part of Killian was convinced Zelena had been lying, playing some kind of cruel trick on him. Magic aside, it just didn’t seem possible. He fell into a deep slumber that night in his rented room, and the following morning, just chalked it up to an incredibly vivid dream, or perhaps the result of too much rum.

But at some point that day, he noticed a bit of nausea settle over him. He wanted to attribute it to something slightly off in Granny’s seafood special, especially when he found himself making a mad dash for the toilet around midday (making sure to take his meals at off times—hours he knew he wouldn’t see Emma there, mainly to avoid both her ire and his shame). But he’d been through his fair share of food poisoning—and this wasn’t it.

For starters, food poisoning usually ended. This, however, kept going. All that night and into the next morning. He left his room long enough to try to get something simple from Granny’s—just some bread or oatmeal—but even that wouldn’t stay down. Oddly, the only thing that sounded even vaguely palatable was sardines, of all things; he thought longingly back to the store of them on the Jolly Roger, but they were obviously inaccessible at the moment.

(He did manage to keep his stomach calm enough to run out to the convenience store and purchase some, as well as some ginger tea—and took a long, hard look at the devices that apparently verified pregnancy. However, he moved on from them; time would surely tell.)

The nausea continued to follow him through the afternoon, but the ginger tea helped a bit. Still, though, he was surprised by the urgent knock at his door that evening—the end of the second day of the 10 that Zelena had foretold—as he flushed the latest bit of bile down the toilet.

“Hook? What’s wrong?”

He blinked and stared at the door before he answered; it was Emma—and she sounded concerned. That was a far cry from their last interaction.

Slowly, he opened the door; she looked like she’d been about to knock again, and indeed, there was a worried furrow to her brow. “‘M fine, love,” he told her, though his voice tiredly betrayed him.

“Please; I’ve heard you puking all day. These walls are thin. What’s up?”

“Just drank a bit too much,” he lied, staring at the floor. (Even the thought of rum made his stomach churn.)

“You know I know that’s not true.” He had no counter to that. “Well, whatever you have going on, just—take care of yourself, okay?”

“I always do,” he threw back.

“I know.” It looked like there were a multitude of things on the tip of her tongue, but she hesitated too long to say them. “Get some rest, okay? Have a good night.”

“You too, Swan.”

She headed back into her room across the hall, but he closed his door before she went away. He didn’t know how to interpret her care versus her statements to the contrary the other day.

Besides, his stomach turned again, so he had to make another mad dash off. 

Not much later, another knock came to his door; Ruby had brought him some soup. “Heard you might need it,” she said; he had to wonder whether that was her own preternaturally strong hearing or some other voice whispering in her ear, but he was just grateful for the gesture.

Amazingly, it finally stayed down, and though the nausea lingered, he at least didn’t find himself losing anything else in the toilet. 

His sleep that night was the deepest it had been since he had arrived back in Storybrooke.

————————————-

He felt surprisingly well rested the next morning—almost normal, though there seemed to be a weight that had settled in his stomach deep within, not unlike the guilty feeling he was used to carrying around for all these centuries. Perhaps the previous days had merely been an anomaly? A stomach illness?

David stopped by during the morning and invited him out on some rounds. He had no reason to refuse, regardless of whatever Zelena may or may not have done to him, so he joined in—especially because he could see it for the olive branch it was, even if it was never specifically stated as one. 

David did seem a bit lighter than he had in days past; he said Snow and the baby were still doing well, and the fact that no one had seen the witch had them somewhat worried, but also finally felt like they could breathe for a bit.

If that was the case, then Killian had few regrets in his deal with the witch—though he hadn’t yet figured out a way to thwart her plans, especially without seeking help.

If he still needed to, at least. He wasn’t wholly convinced that she’d actually done anything to him. The only real difference he noticed in anything that day was the return of his appetite, in dramatic fashion; he was never one for gluttony, and propriety (as well as manners lessons back in the naval academy) demanded he never overindulge and eat politely, but he devoured his breakfast and lunch in record time. He was getting over a stomach bug, though—right?

Were it not for that, and the persistent dense feeling in his gut, he’d still think Zelena was messing with his head. A man giving birth? Preposterous.

However, after bathing that night, he caught something in his reflection that likely confirmed he was with child: it wasn’t significantly noticeable, but when viewed in profile, there was a curve to his belly that hadn’t been there earlier, just behind his navel. And while he could partly attribute it to the copious french fries with his dinner, the very tiny wiggles he felt inside were definitely not from digestion.

“Fuck,” he cursed. He gently traced it, knowing that this was only the beginning of what was to come. But—it would still be worth it if it meant Emma’s family was left alone.

———————————

The next morning, after another rather large breakfast, he headed to the library; Belle was still doing research on ways to thwart Zelena’s plans, so he decided to offer his aid. They’d come to a tenuous peace in the time since Neal had passed away—and, really, it was his only plan so far towards defeating the witch without revealing the reason for her sudden pause in assault.

(He may have had to loosen the laces of his vest a bit in order to avoid revealing it in other ways; his stomach was somewhat larger in the morning, but one would still have to look very closely to notice the difference.)

Belle did seem a bit surprised at his offer of help when he arrived—she said she assumed he’d be out doing reconnaissance with the Charmings—but seemed glad to have another set of eyes on the ancient tomes she’d been poring through.

After a couple hours of fruitless searching—having no particular theory on how to stop the spell, they were casting a wider net when it came to neutralizing magic—he got up to stretch his legs (and ease the bit of ache that had settled in his hips). He wandered the stacks a bit, the naval officer in him still in awe of all the knowledge they held. Perhaps someday, he’d have the time to more thoroughly peruse their contents, but he did have a somewhat ulterior motive for heading to the library today.

“The pregnancy books?” He jumped when Belle found him skimming a volume entitled What to Expect When You’re Expecting; shit.

“I’ve been…curious, is all,” he replied, quickly and bashfully. “We never had this kind of information in our realm, and with Snow…”

“I get it,” Belle replied, thankfully. “It’s overwhelming how much more they know here, isn’t it?”

“Aye,” he sighed, glad she believed his quick cover.

She just smiled when he brought it back to the table. He didn’t read it too in-depth—gods only knew he was about to devour it later, probably far too late into the night—but he did skim it and—oh no.

It just got worse and worse. He finally got to the chapter on labor, and all it entailed; all he could say was “bloody hell.” Oh, he was in for it.

Belle was reshelving books and glanced over his shoulder—and laughed. “Yeah, that was my reaction the first time I looked through it,” she told him. “What? I was curious too,” she added when he raised an eyebrow at her in question. “Good thing you won’t ever be pregnant, eh?”

He swallowed, and paused for probably too long a moment before muttering out a “Yeah, thank goodness.” Then quickly reached for another magic book and shoved the medical manual aside.

(He didn’t see Belle’s furrowed brow at the delay in his answer—or the sidelong glances at how quickly he ate his lunch.)

Sometime that afternoon, Henry popped in, inviting him to join in a sparring session with him and David out behind Granny’s. Again, he was touched, and hoped the lad didn’t notice the sudden wetness of his eyes. Were it not for that book, he’d wonder where that had come from, but apparently heightened emotions were a thing he had to look forward to.

It felt nice to get a workout, and the verbal battle between him and David as they taught Henry differing styles of fighting was just as entertaining. They were sharing a laugh when they were suddenly asked, “What’s so funny?”

He stiffened and turned, to see Emma standing off to the side, smiling at them—though it didn’t fully reach her eyes. 

“David’s idea of properly blocking a parry,” he replied. “It works fine if you’re fighting someone who plays by the rules.”

“Which I’m guessing you don’t?”

“What fun is that?” he flirted back.

Her subsequent smile (and blush) was genuine. The sudden southward rush of his blood, though, was caused by something far different—and he just hoped no one noticed it.

They put away the practice weapons and headed into the diner, but Emma grabbed his arm and held him back. “Hey, I just wanted to say—I’m sorry for what I said the other day.”

He tilted his head, confused. “Beg your pardon?”

“About not trusting you,” she clarified. “I was upset at what had just happened. You haven’t really given us any reason to doubt you; I was just jarred by everything that had happened with the witch there, and you were an easy target. But you didn’t deserve that.”

“I…” he started, but found himself speechless—and attempting to hold back tears once more. “Thank you, love,” he finally said, sounding a bit more emotional than he’d like. “I’m…I’m glad to hear that, and I hope you never have reason to doubt my intentions again.”

“I know I won’t,” she said confidently, and there was a confidence to that statement that had him in awe. 

Which made it all the worse that he was holding in—quite literally—an actual, fairly large secret. 

(Well, only about the size of a grapefruit yet, according to the book, but—semantics.)

They invited him to dine with him—not taking his weak excuse at being tired—and conversation over their meal seemed to focus on future plans, even though Snow’s imminent birth still loomed. The oddest part, though, was they seemed to automatically include him in these plans. Gods above, he appreciated it, but hopefully they wouldn’t think it too odd when he had to inevitably bow out in a couple days, if not sooner. 

He decided to get some practice in that by making an early exit from dinner. “You okay?” Emma asked, seemingly worried. 

“What, is that tap Henry gave you on the shoulder acting up?” David joked. 

“Indeed,” he played along, rubbing his left bicep in feigned emphasis. “Best rest it up.” (In truth, he was sore, but not there—more around his midsection—and he needed to get back to the book to find out why).

“See you tomorrow,” Emma said with a soft smile; he could only nod back. 

Guilt was yet again plaguing him when he returned to his room. That didn’t stop his sigh of relief, though, when he undid his vest; he felt around his stomach, and it was definitely bigger than it was this morning, though still fairly small (and therefore easy to hide).

Perhaps he had indeed been too rash when he made this deal with Zelena. As much as Emma and her family had written him off in the moment, he too had underestimated their capacity for forgiveness. But no—anything that kept them out of danger was worth it, even if he still wasn’t wholly confident in what lay ahead of him, or how to ensure the witch didn’t succeed.

As if sensing his worries, the small life within gave a strong kick, one he could almost feel from the outside. It was a solid reminder that there was no going back on this.

He just hoped he could get through it with little issue.

—————————————————–

thank you so much for reading! tagging a few: @wyntereyez @jennjenn615 @superadam54 @ashley-knightingale @justsomewhump @teamhook @mathiaskejseren @88infinity88

[inspector-montoya-fox]

i've always found it to be such a bland choice for the gang to recruit the Panda King, although as i grew up i realised it made for some more mature storytelling because Sly has to co-exist with someone who killed his father and Panda King, as someone who isn't the most colourful character, contrasts nicely with the rest of the cast. but today i want to indulge in that infatuation i had of having the gang work with their past enemies, and discuss what would happen if Bentley decided to recruit any villain other than the Panda King

i remember how much i wanted them to recruit Mz Ruby, because i used to be obsessed with her as a child. and honestly i think it's within the realm of possibility. i mean, apart from Muggshot (who got more development in Sly 3) and Clockwerk, i think if they were ok with Panda King joining why wouldn't they be with the rest of the Fiendish Five? also, sidenote: i'm kinda bummed we never got to see Panda King interact with Muggshot like two ex-team members but one's still rotten and the other's working with the heroes? give us the banter give us the drama honey come on where is it

i feel like if Mz Ruby joined she'd get along most with Murray, the Guru and Dimitri, but she'd absolutely loathe Sly, Bentley and Penelope. Murray would show her some long overdue tlc and make her feel like she belongs (which would tug at her heartstrings because that's what turned her to a life of crime); she'd exchange notes with the Guru on mind-control and stuff; and i think she'd have a massive crush on Dimitri honestly, two reptiles and all. i also think that Sly wouldn't be so vehemently pressed about the whole thing and i'm not sure why. maybe it's because we see Panda King outright bury a whole-ass village in snow in A Perilous Ascent, whereas, to our knowledge, Mz Ruby only robbed banks with her voodoo. i can't see her getting close with the gang or sharing any sweet moments but i think she'd be a valuable member, albeit very similar to the Guru. she could definitely fill in for Panda King in Kaine Island but instead of fireworks she'd shoot some ◻︎◎△, she'd help Guru with controlling Crusher, and she'd give some valuable insight on the hopping vampires although without Panda King in the picture A Cold Alliance would probably never happen.

moving on to Sly 2, the only available options are Rajan, Contessa and Jean Bison. due to the segment in the credits where they're shown moving on with their lives as well as the fact that they didn't murder ConnEr, i feel like these three are even more realistic candidates than Panda King. out of the three, Rajan would definitely be the most beneficial asset because he could summon lightning like duh ??? (although unsure as to whether he could still do that without the Clockwerk heart) but i think he'd reject the offer after how hard the gang fucked him over like they really destroyed the guy. personally, Jean Bison as a member would be as bland as Panda King, so that leaves us with the Contessa. yay, another female member but oh my god would she be a nightmare to work with. she'd undoubtedly betray the gang, probably hang out with them for like one or two adventures, try to sabotage the missions, and then secretly contact Dr Mauricio and tell him everything, leading the gang to Kaine Island just to snatch Sly's cane and then get half of the contents of the vault (or betray Dr Mauricio too after delivering the cane). she'd hate everyone on the team but would tolerate Bentley and Penelope. i'm unsure as to how she'd behave around Dimitri though.

anyway i'm in a very feisty mood because i've just had Toblerone ice cream so let's discuss other, more far-fetched possibilities. what if, after getting fired from Interpol, Winthorp contacted the gang to join? he'd be such a disaster like combine Bentley's cowardice from the beginning of Sly 2 and Murray's uselessness from Sly 1 and he'd match that lmao. he'd also cream his pants every time they had a run-in with Carmelita. 0 redeeming qualities as a gang member but i kinda want him to be the underdog. maybe like a romcom montage of Dimitri teaching Winthorp how to "get the girl"? hmmm... what about the gang recruiting Don Octavio after literally just sending him to jail a few months prior? 'if we wanted to get inside the Cooper Vault, we needed a musician - we'd have to break Don Octavio out of prison' and the episode would be like Jailbreak: the Sequel and its climax would be a Jailhouse Rock operation where Sly and Murray organise a prison riot as a diversion and the Don narrates it musically, occasionally breaking the fourth wall. you'd have to shake your controller to get him to sing the more difficult notes (bellydancing-gate flashbacks). i mean, it's not like he has anything better to do, opera isn't coming back any time soon. i'd also suggest Mrs Puffin from the orphanage but she'd probably be dead by this point, right? anyway, what do you guys think about them recruiting Le Paradox?

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 6 - Practice makes perfect

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 5 -- Part 7

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x OFC (Elena)

Summary: Sherlock and Elena have their regular Saturday rehearsal, after their non-regular Friday... Study session... Is it going to be awkward? It's Sherlock, so yeah, probably.

Warnings: NONE! (Can you believe it? I sure can't!). There are some mentions of boners and we have 2 very much ND-coded individuals being awkward... And some angsty things.

Word count: 2.1k (It's a short one, too?...)

A/N: So this isn't smut and it's also not long. I don't know who I am anymore. Anyway, enjoy Awkward Sherlock <3

@peaches1958 I promised to let you know when this was up!

The doorbell rang at 12.30 sharp, as was the case every Saturday - Sherlock loathed tardiness, a fact Elena was well aware of, and it was a convenient coincidence that she was not generally inclined to be late, either. Normally, the door would open within seconds, and it would always be Sherlock on the opposite side of it. Today, however, Elena had to ring the bell a second time. 

“Hello? Elena?” The young man who opened the door was not familiar to her, but he seemed to know who she was. Granted, it would be reasonable to assume that she was the only violin-carrying redhead who routinely showed up on their doorstep on Saturdays at 12.30 - if there had been any others, she surely would have seen them there. Elena nodded in response to the question and stepped inside once the stranger in front of her took a step to the side to let her pass. 

“I’m Napoleon,” the stranger introduced himself, reaching out a hand, “nice to meet you. I think Sherlock is still upstairs.”

“Nice to meet you, too. I’ll be on my way up, then.” She said nervously as she shook her coat off her shoulders and put it on the overflowing coat rack. 

“Alright, I trust you know the way by now.” And with that, Napoleon disappeared through the nearest door. 

“Sherlock?” She had knocked on the door four times and tried his cellphone twice before she finally decided she’d had enough of these shenanigans and opened the door. Before she ascended the stairs, however, she decided it would be in everyone’s best interest if she called up to make sure she wasn’t disturbing anything. When no answer came, she made her way upstairs and into the room. She found Sherlock on his bed, with his headphones on, violin laying on his chest, eyes closed - it almost looked as if he were asleep. Elena stood at the top of the stairs for a moment before taking a few careful steps towards his desk, where she pressed pause on the music that was playing. His eyes flew open as soon as the music stopped, and he shot up, remembering just in time where he had put his violin. It was no cheap feat to have to replace one, or so Elena had found out a few summers prior. She was still paying her parents back for the portion that they had agreed was her responsibility. 

“Is it twelve thirty already?” Sherlock asked, slightly dazed, as though he had genuinely just been asleep. 

“By now I reckon it’s twelve thirty five,” Elena chuckled as she looked at the horrified look on his face. 

“I am so incredibly sorry,” he said as he got up, placing his violin on the stand where it belonged. She laid her violin case down on the desk, as she usually did. Now that both of them had their hands free, they realized all of a sudden that they had absolutely no idea what to do with them. After last night, both of them had their own reasons to be afraid; Sherlock because he had no idea how to proceed, and Elena because she wasn’t quite used to the way things had ended. Sherlock had rejected her attempt to take things further, and though she genuinely believed that he shared her affections, she wondered how to proceed in this particular case. She was well aware that Sherlock was not big on talking about emotions - even if he was able to articulate them - and she didn’t want to make things needlessly complicated with unnecessary talk of feelings and the like. So they stood there; Sherlock folded his arms across his chest and Elena grabbed one of her upper arms and they stood there in silence with growing uncomfortable tension between them until they finally - simultaneously - suggested they practice. And so they did. 

Practice went horribly. There was no other word for it. It was a good thing that this was not an orchestra rehearsal, because both of them suspected they would have been asked to leave. It started when Elena nearly whacked Sherlock in the head with her bow, and ended when Sherlock nearly dropped his violin during a part that he would normally have been able to play flawlessly in his sleep during an earthquake. To top it all off, Sherlock received a text from Geralt: “Maybe call it a day?” He could just about see the dirty smirk on the man’s face as he read it, and made a mental note to murder him later.

“Maybe we should stop,” Elena said. Her voice was accompanied by a sigh of exasperation. “I don’t think a few hours of practice warrant the murder of a very expensive violin.”

“I think you’re right,” was all Sherlock could say in reply. He felt utterly helpless. His playing had been called virtuose - by people other than his parents, thank you very much - yet today he wouldn’t have made it through ‘Mary had a little lamb’ without making a mistake. If he was incapable of doing something he was normally so incredible at, how on earth would he do anything else? Elena was packing her things and Sherlock’s breath faltered at the thought of her leaving. 

“Don’t go,” he whispered, making Elena turn around. On her face lay a sweet smile, and with a few steps she closed the distance between them and took his violin from his hands and put them down carefully in their normal place, only to take his hands in hers and look up at him. 

“I wasn’t leaving, Sherlock,” she chuckled while raising herself up on her toes. Sherlock leaned into her movement a little enthusiastically, causing their mouths to crash together unromantically and - in all honesty - quite painfully. It was the final straw for both of them; Elena couldn’t stifle a short burst of hysterical laughter, while Sherlock let out a frustrated scream. It fueled Elena’s laughing fit, causing the disgruntlement within Sherlock to grow until he finally snapped at her. 

“Stop making me feel like more of an idiot, would you?” 

“Oh, Sherlock,” Elena said while reaching out to touch his arm. He pulled away from her, turned around even, so he wouldn’t have to look at her. 

“Don’t… I don’t want this,” he finally said. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I fancy you. But I don’t believe I enjoy feeling that way.” Sherlock took a deep breath before resuming his story: “All of this interferes with my thinking. And yesterday was very pleasant, and very… easy. But today, right now, nothing is easy. In fact, everything is decidedly uneasy, and it makes me feel…”

“Uneasy?”

“Elena, please! I’m serious. This is incredibly difficult for me to talk about, please don’t make it worse with silly commentary.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. The expression on her face told him she meant it. She took a few more steps so that she was standing right in front of him. Her arms snaked around his waist and she pulled herself flush against his body, resting her head on his chest. After a while, he rested his hands on her hips and his chin on her head. 

“Does this feel uneasy?” She asked softly as she stroked his back gently with the tips of her fingers. 

“No,” Sherlock sighed. 

“Then perhaps this is the perfect place to start,” she concluded. He didn’t object, in fact he considered any idea that involved holding her a splendid one. 

Oddly enough, and perhaps more surprising to Sherlock himself than to anyone else, he was the one who broke their embrace. 

“What would a normal suggestion be, rather than standing around like this?” An awkward smile adorned his face and his cheeks were slightly red. 

“Watching a movie,” Elena chuckled. Sherlock shrugged and looked at her questioningly - Elena knew better than to wait for him to make the actual inquiry. 

“Bed or couch?” She asked bluntly, already taking a step towards the couch without awaiting his answer. She was surprised when he grabbed her arm and pulled her in the other direction. 

Even more surprising were the words that spilled from his lips completely unexpectedly: “The couch isn’t that comfortable.” Was she imagining things or was the remark genuinely dripping with insinuations of questionable propriety? The chaste kiss he planted on her lips suggested the former, much to her dismay. 

After rearranging furniture and books to set up Elena’s laptop at the right height, they let themselves fall onto the bed. It took a while for them to find a comfortable position, but when they finally did, something didn’t feel quite right. While Elena relished the feeling of Sherlock’s large, firm and warm body behind her, his strong arms wrapped around her waist and soft lips in her hair, she couldn’t help but wonder whether his lack of advances meant he wasn’t as fond of her as she had come to believe. Sherlock, on the other hand, had to focus all his energy into not squeezing her uncomfortably close, and then some to control his thoughts - which were steadily barreling towards entirely inappropriate scenarios - and the corresponding biological reactions. The poor guy yearned so much to close every micron of space between their bodies that he could barely focus on the movie. After a while, she sensed his anxiety along with the unmistakable hardness that pressed against the small of her back, and through some exquisite bout of mental gymnastics mistook it for further rejection. Now, someone had to make the decision to talk about this situation before it cost them not only a potential relationship, but a very good friendship to boot, and Elena was fairly sure that the person to make that decision wouldn’t be Sherlock in a million years. Which logically meant she would have to. 

“Could we talk?” She whispered softly as she turned around in his arms so that she was facing him. It would have been far easier to have this conversation with her back against his chest, but she was fairly certain she’d let both him and herself get away with too much vagueness and non-answers for this little talk to be productive.

“Is that strictly necessary?” Sherlock had never been one for small talk - a fact that was widely known among those familiar with him. Then there was any talk other than small talk, which wasn’t quite his cup of tea, either. In fact, it would be neither inappropriate nor inaccurate to suggest that Sherlock shied away from any kind of talk as best he could.

“I’m afraid so…” It was immediately obvious that Elena wouldn’t let him get away with his usual evasive attitude towards intimate conversation. Sherlock figured it would be easier to just give in to her demand, still fully denying the necessity of this conversation.

“What is the matter?” Sherlock sighed. 

“Last night… You rejected me.” She decided to not yet bring up her feelings regarding the fact that she had just spent half an hour with a hard-on pressing against her, yet he hadn’t made a pass at her, or even so much as attempted to kiss her again. 

“I have a very different take on the matter.” Sherlock sounded as stoic as ever, but the apples of his cheeks colored red, revealing his discomfort and anxiety. Elena, however, was surprised by the answer. 

“You do?”

“Elena, yesterday was very intimate and very pleasant,” the red of his blush deepened as his thoughts shifted back to the previous night, which did absolutely nothing to help his situation, but he couldn’t help himself , “but ultimately it was also a very new experience for me. If you think I had no desire to go beyond where we did, you are mistaken; that wasn’t the case at all.” He deliberated for a second whether to expand on that statement by telling her how much her presence in and of itself aroused him before deciding that she was probably experienced enough to deduce that from his current state, which had no doubt caught her attention. There really was no need to embarrass himself any further, he reasoned, and so he continued: “All of this is just quite a lot to process, and I have to take this a bit slower than you may be used to.” Had he just inadvertently called her easy? “Not that I’m trying to insinuate that…” He scrambled for words to the point where he was almost stuttering when he uttered that sentence. Elena, much to his relief, chuckled. 

“You’re not insinuating anything, continue.”

“What I am trying to say is that I didn’t intend to say ‘no’ to you, I merely meant to say ‘later’,” he cleared his throat as he searched for words to continue. “I completely understand if this changes things for you. I am also fairly sure that I would find that very upsetting, because I truly am very fond of you. But I could imagine you wouldn’t want to wait around for me to get to where you are.”

“Don’t you underestimate my patience, Sherlock Holmes.” She laughed as she pressed her lips to his. “Or my leadership skills.”

-> Part 7

[inkfulinsight]

Coffee Talks - Chapter 1

There are many things I do not know of love, or I haven’t desired to know about love. Something about the whole love package makes it seem undesirable. Telling pieces of myself to someone that could wake up one morning and decided I was irrelevant in that first morning stretch. Then my stories do they keep it to themselves, or do they tell it as a joke at the next hang out or gathering with some friends? Over a glass of beer with his guys in a dimly lit bar he would say, “I was with this girl once, she was so insecure she’d have me tell her, I loved her many times, I realized she liked to hear it, so it didn’t matter if I meant it,” and then they’d all laugh like he’d told a funny joke. I am sure there’d be one person who wouldn’t laugh but I was certain he was the bottom of the list for all the friends they probably still kept him around because he was rich, or they’d known him for too long to leave him. Both chances were equally weighty.

It didn’t matter though because what he had said was true. I was the pathetic girl who had wanted to be sure she was loved by someone who wasn’t even capable of loving himself. I am sure deep down he was as self-loathing as I was. The only difference is that I was more vocal about how I despised myself while he buried his under gym weights, beer and a false believe that he was the best thing that happened to my life.

Initially I believed it, that he was in fact the best thing that happened to my life. I was a young girl approaching her mid-twenties with a heart opened to love. I was becoming less pessimistic and more optimistic which is why rather than narrate a fake number I gave him a real one. Rather than wear a scowl, I wore a smile that day. Rather than reject his call, I answered the phone. Rather than cancel that date, we went on it, a date that turned in to several dates and by the third week he asked me to date him. It should have been worrying he knew nothing asides the things I told him about me. I mean people only know what you tell them of yourself which meant a person could probably lie to you your whole relationship and the scariest part is you won’t even question it because from their first encounter it had been lies and off, they went building you a castle of lies. When it crumbled, the pain must have been intense. However, this wasn’t the case with Jack, that was his name, short for Jackson, as bland as a name gets, he really told me that the first time we met. “Jack short for Jackson” like I thought it was Jack short for ‘Oluwajackson’ or ‘Jackrine’. Unfortunately for me, and fortunately for him I found it funny then, no not what he said but the weird name assumptions I had made in my head.

Anyway, Jackson who we have established isn’t one to dig further or pay much attention to anything but the obvious had only known me through my spoken words or texts. That meant if I had told Jackson I liked milk and he saw me take milk and get irritated by it, Jackson would still have said I liked milk if he spoke about me. He was a little dense and though it was initially charming because it meant he wouldn’t probe into the parts of my life I wasn’t comfortable divulging, it later dawned on me that Jack really didn’t care that much for me. It was very tasteless too the way he broke up with me. A text message that read. ‘I don’t think we are compatible’ to which I replied, ‘I know’. I don’t know what he said after that because I deleted his number and then the application off my phone and I cried myself to sleep. No not because Jackrine had dumped me and over text at that- I would deal with that humiliation another day- but because I had stayed with him that long tolerating his nonsense and surface level conversations only to be later dumped. All my hard work and forced smiling and pretend happiness and he dumped me. He should have at least said thank you. Thank you Dami for putting up with my nonsense, thank you for ironing my rumpled clothes so I don’t go out looking homeless, thank you for the cooked dinners and for always replacing my milk and eggs. Thank you for putting up with me! That is what he should have begun his text with before he proceeded with the astrology things. I am sure his sun or moon probably told him to do so, he believes in those star sign things.

That was another red flag I had ignored because I was desperately trying to give this love thing a chance for the benefits of those who found my singleness to be loneliness. They were two separate things; sure, I didn’t like being by myself, but it necessarily did not translate to being involved with someone else and I am sure anyone else would have been much better than settling for the first fish I caught.

“Hey,” I hear as someone taps my shoulder, I look up to see my friend. His brown eyes soften on meeting mine and then I see sympathy in them. I must have been frowning, he only looks at me this way when I am sad or crying. When I am angry, he hugs me, so I don’t see his face. “Are you still upset about Jack?” he asked softly, sitting in the chair by me. I push my half- drunk coffee forward; I had added too much sugar and now it tastes too sweet. Tom drags my cup to his side, he touches the body of the cup and when he sees it is still warm, he brings it to his lips and drinks it, right from the point I drank, his lips planted on top of my lipstick stain.

“You enjoy kissing me,” I say to him. He drops the cup and there is a look of confusion on his face, and I just shrug in response.

“Are you out of it?” he asked bringing his hand to my face, but I push back so he drops his hand, “Sorry I forget you are allergic to touching,” he says with his tone dripping with sarcasm. “However, the rule didn’t apply to Jackson, did it?” he said with a brow up. I can feel a bile coming up my throat as I remember some spot in this coffee shop- I sit up turning around, yes, there in the back, away from the eyes of the public I sat with Jack, his hand around my shoulders, while he had his strawberry milkshake- which grown man had a strawberry milkshake for breakfast?-his hands would play with my braids, he’d nudge my face with his nose, he’d kiss my cheek repeatedly with his sugar stained mouth from the shake and then he'd make a lame joke saying “look now, I sweetened you up” and I’d giggle and say he was funny. I was truly pathetic, worst of all for putting up with it for that long.

“He wasn’t very funny,” I say turning back to the table.

“Hun?” Tom responds he had turned to face me fully; his legs are spread apart in front of me, and his chair pulled so closed to mine he’d have to shift if I wanted to get out from my seat. He is wearing a white shirt with several buttons undone, his collar bones are exposed and so hollow you could store coins in them. His sleeves are partially rolled up and he is wearing dark blue jeans with it and white air forces. He looks like your standard definition of ‘I belong to the streets’, and I would happily have him there than attempt to pull him from it. I have seen the tears and messages and occasional threats of those who have attempted but somehow, he had been stuck with me as my best friend for a while now that I have grown used to just having him around me, so much so that this attempt of his to completely invade my personal space it something normal between us.

The lights reflect in his eyes as he leans into his arm resting on the table, his hand acting as a stand for his head, his beard his well-groomed framing a perfectly chiseled jaw and his black hair has been cut into a fade. His coffee skin glitters even though I was certain he used Vaseline on it, the same Vaseline that if I had used would have me looking like burnt-out coal, not even the shiny unused one but here was Tom looking like he was on his way to shoot an ad for them. Then there was me who on less than 10 days out of 365 looked like a real beauty queen but the other days I resembled a homeless hobo. Today was one of those hobo days and it upsets me that it has to do more with boring Oluwajackson than anything else.

“Why are you spacing out a lot?” Tom says using his free hand to tug on the silver necklace on his neck, the necklace I gave him 2 years ago on his birthday. I bring my hand to his neck taking the silver leaf pendant from between his finger, he doesn’t resist dropping his hand and allowing me to play with the pendant.

“I am glad you like it this much,” I say dropping my hand, it falls lazily on him, and he take my hand in his and begins playing with my fingers. I stare out window watching people hurry off to several destinations. Time seemed to be running except in this little coffee shop, where George Michaels is singing out his heart -to a possibly betrayed lover- from the pink wall speakers that matched the coffee shop’s aesthetics. “How is Kira?” I ask and his fingers playing with mine go rigid for a bit. For several seconds it is the sound of careless whisper playing lowly out of the speakers behind the counter that fills the silence that envelopes us.

“She left me,” he blurts out and I turn to him my shock evident on my face. He scrunches his pointy nose at me. He looks cute like a child when he does that, but I’ve never told him that. Anymore ego boost and his head might just explode. “She said I wasn’t ready to be someone,” he added.

“Well haven’t you heard that line before,” I said to him and nodded his head, resuming to play with my fingers.

“Are you upset about Jack?” I heard him whisper and I realized I had been ignoring his concern this whole time.

“Not really,” I answered honestly. “I am more upset with myself for putting up with him,” I tell him.

“Well, it is kind of our fault, my fault for pushing you out there,” he says solemnly. I find his eyes and I can tell they are sad, and I shake my head indicating it wasn’t his fault. Nobody held a gun to my head and forced me to be with Jack. I chose to be with him- maybe slight peer pressure might have played a part. Also, I did actually kind of find him interesting initially my mistake was mistaking interest with love. The love you see, never came, it was just buckets and buckets of tolerance for very terrible jokes.

“Damilola!” I hear forcing my thoughts back to the present.

“Tomiwa!” I reply equally shouting and he cracks a smile, and my heart feels full in this moment just watching him smile. His phone goes off and my eyes flicker to the screen, Kira with a red heart calling. My heart deflates. His eyes travel to the phone then back to mine.

I give him a small smile as he unlaces his hands from mine, get ups and answers the call. “Baby,” I hear him begin as he picks the call, I force my attention to the music to avoid listening further as he walks out the coffee shop door, his tall framing forcing him to bend his head as passed the door. A sigh escapes my lips as I pull the coffee back to myself and then I drink what is left of it. Another lipstick mark on cup to avoid drinking from where he drank from. Kira with a red heart. Of all the many girls he’s date he’d saved them with a blue, green, yellow and the red heart with an exclamation mark never a just red heart. Asides his mother no one else is saved with a red heart. Even I that was somewhat important to him was saved with the heart with an arrow pierced through it. I was saved as cupid’s shot on his phone. He says it is because he feels he cannot ever really get away from me and he doesn’t know why. I shrugged when he told me that because it didn’t really sound like a compliment. He is saved as Tomiwa (TIMF)-The TIMF meaning ‘thorn in my flesh’- with a red heart on my phone. I do value using red hearts but not as much as him and to be entirely honest, when he is not annoying me, I find that he is that important to me. Sometimes however, I don’t know if I am that important to him. I shake my head because I cannot deal with this thought right now on top of the thoughts, I have of Jackmantha.

————————To be continued—————————

[countlessrealities]

@dynamoprotocol sent: U   :   UNREQUITED.   has your muse had their heart broken? (for Rick!) Valentine's Day Alphabet

The short version of the answer to this question is "yes, every single time", because that's how bad Rick's love life has been since after his family got killed. From then on his life has been studded with losses, mistakes and bad choices.

Diane was his biggest heartbreak and he never stopped blaming himself for her death, even if it hasn't even been truly his fault. None of them had done anything to deserve what happened, but that hasn't stopped Rick to be filled with survivor's guilt and the fact that he has never found the guy responsible for it has just made him feel like he was failing her and Beth over and over again.

Things have ended up badly with his other two main love interests.

One of them has rejected him, and quite harshly too, the moment when he has tried to confess how he felt for him. Considering that he has been the first person Rick has let himself be truly vulnerable with after Diane and that he has carried that torch for years, it was a really painful hit for him and he has never fully recovered from it. It still stings nowadays, even if years have passed since he has been shot down.

The other one is Unity and their relationship was an absolute mess because they fell in a spiral of mutual destruction and it ended with Unity breaking up with him because they realised how ugly the person they are around Rick is. And they got scared too, because even if they are the hivemind, Rick was the one to suck them in and make them part of him, and not vice versa. Rick was devastated after this break up too, not just because he was really in love with Unity, but also because from then on he has started to realise what he does to the people he chooses to love.

All the minor relationships he has had during the years have ended bitterly, either with the other person leaving him or with him running away because things were getting too serious and, at the same, he recognises the patterns in which they were falling. He didn't see a reason to stay just to see it ending badly.

In our verse, there's Clarissa too, and she belongs in the list of the worst heartaches Rick has ever experienced with Diane, Birdperson and Unity. He might put a big chuck of the blame on her and the break-up might have been somewhat mutual in their case, but that didn't soften the blow at all. What they had was unhealthy and messy, but Rick has been sort of happy with her, which is something that he hadn't experienced in years. And he ends up having to live with the knowledge that he has destroyed what could have been his last chance at having something good in his life.

So, "heartbreak" is pretty much the final word at the end of every romantic relationship Rick has had, and this has tainted his vision on love forever. Not to mention that each of them has added to his regrets and self-loathing.

[reinerispretty]

almost kings. atla fantasy!AU. (mako x f!reader)

hi everyone!! here is my new baby. it’s a oneshot so pls enjoy :)

SUMMARY: (y/n’s) not quite ready to take on the responsibility of ruling an entire kingdom. perhaps two brothers will be her saving grace. 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, but closed it. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She couldn’t just shove the kingdom into the hands of random people. She had to make sure they were worthy somehow.

“You never think things through,” Korra sighed, and (Y/N) scoffed.

“As if you’re any better!” She snatched the paper back from Korra. “I’m going into town to find them regardless. I just have to see.”

Korra pursed her lips, then nodded. “Fine, but I’m coming with you.”

“Absolutely not, you’ll ruin everything.”

“You wound me, Princess. Someone has to make sure these ruffians don’t kidnap you and I'm the only one I trust.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. There would be no arguing with Korra. She was as stubborn as a mule. “Shouldn’t that say something about your ability to train your men?”

“It says nothing about my ability, and everything about the fact that they are men.”

The castle felt the weight of the king’s passing in every crook, cranny, and crevice. The lanterns had lost their luster. The air felt heavier. Every member of the royal palace from top to bottom had become more solemn in the days after. But still, life continued as best as it could. There was a kingdom to run, after all. 

It had been two months since the funeral service and the princess still remained in black, shrouding her face from view with a veil. The mourning process normally lasted a month at most, but to the public, Princess (Y/N) was taking her father’s death the hardest. She was rarely seen outside the castle walls anymore, nor did she explore the palace as she used to. “Poor girl,” they would whisper, over their cups of tea and mugs of beer. “Losing her father and her mother. Wonder if she’ll ever be ready to serve the kingdom.” 

Her mother had died from a plague that had ransacked the city. (Y/N) had only been six. Now, at the age of twenty-one, she had lost her father to a stupid battle in a senseless war. She was all alone. 

Contrary to what the people might think, she did not spend her time locked in her room, sobbing into her pillow. Instead, she read every book that accounted the history of her family lineage. As soon as her mourning period was over, (Y/N) would be expected to take the throne. She would be the queen of her kingdom, ruling from the highest mountaintops in the east to the shining seas in the west, but (Y/N) could think of nothing more she wanted less than the crown. 

It was her duty. She always knew it would be, but part of her had hoped that somewhere along the line her father would birth a male heir and take the responsibility off of her shoulders. (Y/N) did not believe herself fit to lead troops into battle, nor to discuss diplomatic matters with visiting dukes and duchesses. She could barely get through one ball without wanting to chuck her heel at some handsy prince’s head. So, she read. Somewhere along the line, there had to be someone else who could take the position from her. Someone who would be a great fit for king. 

She finally found her answer late one night, as her eyes were so tired that they had difficulty focusing on the page. There, in a depiction of their family tree, to the left of (Y/N’s) king and great lineage, was a chance. Mako and Bolin, the handwritten letters read. Two brothers who were just about her age, from a line that would have indisputable claim to the throne if (Y/N) rejected it. 

She jumped up from her bed, body thrumming with a newfound energy. She threw open her bedroom door, startling the sleeping guards that stood outside of it. With a bright smile on her face, she said, “Have my carriage ready by morning. We’re going into town!” She shut the door before either could question her. 

(Y/N) exchanged her mourning clothes for her regular ones, choosing a cloth periwinkle dress with an ivory cloak on top, clasped with a broach that was the insignia of her family. Handmaidens pulled her hair back into a ponytail as Y/N informed them that she would be skipping breakfast. She was much too eager to get to town. 

“The Captain of the Royal Guard is here to see you, your highness,” announced the guard at the door. (Y/N) batted the handmaidens away from her head, walking over to the door to open it herself. Captain Korra stood before her, wearing leather pants and a white tunic, with her sword sheathed at her side. 

“It's nice to see you smile again,” Korra said as a greeting. “But what’s got you so overjoyed?” she strode into (Y/N’s) room nonchalantly, no doubt bristling some of the more traditional handmaidens. (Y/N) dismissed them quickly. She and Korra had been friends since they were children. She was instrumental in making her father see Korra’s value as a knight. But although it was Korra's dream to go off and fight for the sake of their kingdom, (Y/N) had been selfishly unwilling to let her go. She could not imagine losing korra as well. 

“I have a plan,” (Y/N) said excitedly, gathering some of the things she would need today. She tore out the page from the book that depicted Mako and Bolin’s claim to the throne, shoving it into the very bottom of her satchel for safe keeping. 

“A plan for what?” (Y/N’s) eyes glanced around the room. Quietly, she began to tell Korra her secret.

“I don’t want to rule the kingdom, so I’m finding someone who will.” 

Korra choked on her own spit. “You’re not being serious, are you?” 

“I'm afraid I'm deadly serious.”

“B-but you’re the princess. No one else can rule but you!” 

“That’s where you’re wrong. Where father was wrong, where everyone was! I’ve been doing research, and there are two boys: Mako and Bolin.” She pulled out the piece of paper to show Korra, who scrutinized it heavily. “They’re the only ones who can take my place if I secede the throne. Which I will.” 

“And if they’re dead?” Korra questioned. “Or they’re horrible people who will hoard all the wealth for themselves and leave the innocent peasants with nothing?” 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, but closed it. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She couldn’t just shove the kingdom into the hands of random people. She had to make sure they were worthy somehow. 

“You never think things through,” Korra sighed, and (Y/N) scoffed. 

“As if you’re any better!” She snatched the paper back from Korra. “I’m going into town to find them regardless. I just have to see.” 

Korra pursed her lips, then nodded. “Fine, but I’m coming with you.” 

“Absolutely not, you’ll ruin everything.” 

“You wound me, Princess. Someone has to make sure these ruffians don’t kidnap you and I'm the only one I trust.” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. There would be no arguing with Korra. She was as stubborn as a mule. “Shouldn’t that say something about your ability to train your men?” 

“It says nothing about my ability, and everything about the fact that they are men.” 

The carriage ride to the town was short, lengthened only by the throngs of people that gathered outside to gape at her presence. They shouted blessings as she passed by, some throwing flowers and others hurling curses. It was another aspect of being royalty that (Y/N) loathed. the attention was too much sometimes, and while she didn’t expect everyone in the kingdom to be fond of her family, she had difficulty not taking their words to heart. 

She ordered the driver to stop inside the town square. He parked their carriage in front of the fountain and people already started to flock towards them out of curiosity. (Y/N) made a move to step out, but Korra grabbed her by the arm and shook her head. Korra stepped out first, looking both beautiful and formidable as she ordered the people to make way for the princess. 

After a few moments, (Y/N) inhaled a deep breath, and stepped out into the bright sun. It was the first time she had been outside the castle walls in over two months. The sunlight seeped into her bones, warMing every part of her being. She squinted her eyes as they adjusted.

“Your majesty!” The people gasped, bowing and curtsying. (Y/N) smiled gratefully at them. 

“It’s so lovely to see all of you,” (Y/N) told them, and she had meant it. There were a few familiar faces among the crowd and she waved at them, calling out their names to show that she remembered. That she cared. 

Korra stood by her side, pulling her through the crowd. “I hope you’ve come up with a cover for why you’re in town. I don’t think the people will be very excited to hear that you’re giving up the crown.” 

“Some might,” (y/n) noted, and Korra narrowed her eyes. “We’ll say that I’m…buying you a new sword.” 

“I don’t need a new sword.” 

“A dagger, then? Everyone loves a dagger.” She grabbed Korra by the hand and pulled her forward. (Y/N) had visited the town many times since she was little. Her mother had loved to read to the children in the town square, a tradition that had unfortunately fallen out of practice after the queen’s demise. (Y/N) had always meant to pick it back up again, but there was something stopping her. 

She led Korra to the blacksmith, reasoning that if there was anyone who knew everyone in town, it would be them. They stepped through the door, a little bell tingling at their arrival, and were instantly hit with a blast of heat. 

The blacksmith stepped through a curtain from the back, lifting their mask and revealing a beautiful girl with soft green eyes and an even softer smile. She looked far too mild to be a blacksmith, but if (Y/N) had learned anything from being friends with Korra, it was that one should never underestimate someone based on their appearance. 

“Your Majesty,” The blacksmith said as she curtsied, removing her heavy gloves. “It’s an honor to have you in my shop. What brings you here?” 

“My Captain of the Royal Guard is looking for a new dagger,” (Y/N) said, glancing up at Korra. The girl’s bright blue eyes were trained on the blacksmith and hadn’t left since they entered the shop. She looked stunned, her face just a shade pinker. “Isn’t that right, Korra?” 

At the sound of her name, Korra snapped back to reality. “Right! Yes. dagger for captain. I’m the captain. Hi, I'm korra.” (Y/N) had to physically stop herself from wincing at her friend’s rambling.

“Nice to meet you,” the blacksmith said. “I’m Asami. What kind of dagger are you in the market for?” 

(Y/N) knew absolutely nothing about weapons, so she looked at Korra, who seemed to be scrambling her brain for words. “Uh, sharp?” Korra offered. 

Asami furrowed her brows and nodded. “Something sharp, then.” 

“Maybe bronze?” (Y/N) questioned. “It will match the rest of your armor wonderfully.” 

“I think I have a bronze dagger in the back, actually,” Asami said, and with another curtsy, she left them. 

(Y/N) smacked Korra’s arm. “What is wrong with you!” she hissed. 

Korra looked from where Asami had just been standing to (Y/N). “Did you see her? She’s the most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen!” 

“You’re acting so suspicious right now.” 

“I am not.” 

“Yes, you are!” Asami entered the room again, and both (Y/N) and Korra paused their argument to smile at her. 

“One bronze dagger,” she said, leaning over the counter to show it to them. It was truly a beautiful work of art, with a tip so sharp it would certainly be deadly. The handle was worked into the intricate design of dragons breathing fire. 

“You made this?” Korra questioned, her voice full of wonder. “It’s beautiful.” Her eyes locked with Asami’s and (Y/N) noticed both girls blush. 

“I did, thank you. My father taught me everything i know.” 

“You’re the best blacksmith I’ve ever met,” (Y/N) agreed. If the circumstances were different, she might invite Asami to become court blacksmith. But she would hate to invite the girl to the castle only to abandon her. “Do you like it, Korra?”

“Yeah, I like her,” Korra said, but her eyes were still trained on Asami. “The dagger,” she tried to recover. 

“We’ll take it.” Asami smiled gratefully, pulling out her record book to record the sale. “I actually have a question for you, Asami, if you don’t mind humoring me.” 

“Anything for you, your highness,” Asami replied brightly. 

“Is there anyone in town by the names Mako or Bolin?” 

Asami thought for a moment as she took the satchel of gold from (Y/N). 

“I think...oh! the baker’s boys. The baker down the street has two apprentices, I think those are their names.” 

(Y/N) grinned wildly, turning to Korra. Bingo. 

As they left the blacksmith, Korra couldn’t stop turning the dagger over and over in her hands. She hadn’t thanked (Y/N) for her purchase, but she didn’t need to. Their friendship went beyond those kinds of formalities. 

“Shall I up your pay so you can come back to town and visit the pretty blacksmith?” (Y/N) smirked. Korra had rarely had a crush throughout their lives. There was another knight she had once admired, but (Y/N) hadn’t been sure if Korra had wanted to kiss him or beat him in a fight. Or both. 

“I certainly wouldn’t complain,” Korra snorted. 

“I think she liked you too.” 

“You’re making fun of me and it’s not nice.” 

“I’m being serious! You were too dumbfounded to notice. It was like,” (Y/N) made explosion noises with her mouth and gestures with her hands. “Instant sparks.” 

Korra remained silent for a few moments as they walked. “Asami is a pretty name, isn’t it?” 

(Y/N) smiled as she pushed through the door to the bakery. “Absolutely.” 

The smell of baked goods sent their mouths watering. Both girls had skipped breakfast, meaning their stomachs were rumbling excessively. They looked at the display cases, where an assortment of all kinds of goodies were laid out before them. 

“Welcome to Bender Bakery!” said a cheerful voice at the counter. It was a boy, but his back was turned to them. “Care for a free sample?” He turned around and smiled, carrying a tray of mini croissants, but it clattered to the floor as soon as he laid eyes on them. “Oh!” he exclaimed, his green eyes wide. “Your majesty! I’m so sorry, I— should I bow? Should I pick these up? Pema’s going to absolutely throttle me.” 

“It’s alright!” (Y/N) felt horrible for surprising the boy. “How about I pay you for those? And for two raspberry tarts?” 

“Four,” Korra said, her voice low and her arms crossed as she eyed the boy. (Y/N) watched him gulp. 

With a sigh, (Y/N) pulled out more coins. “Four raspberry tarts, please?” 

His gaze returned to the princess and he smiled widely, the dazzle reaching his emerald green eyes. Although he was covered in a mess of flour, he was beautiful, with full cheeks and a rounded nose. His stature was broad, and (Y/N) tried to imagine a crown atop his curly black hair. 

“I’m (Y/N),” she said as he swept the mini croissants up. “What is your name?” 

He looked up at her, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I’m Bolin! Nice to meet you, your highness.” (Y/N) smiled widely. She had done it.

“Likewise. This is my Captain of the Royal Guard, Korra.” Korra said nothing, despite (Y/N’s) elbow digging into her side. “Tell me, Bolin, do you have a brother?” 

Bolin’s thick eyebrows drew together curiously. “Yes, yeah I do. Mako. He’s probably out back.” 

“Could you bring him here, please?” Bolin nodded and darted out of the room. 

“What’s your plan?” Korra questioned as soon as he left. “You still have to make sure they’re not going to be insane.” 

“I don’t think they will. I got a good feeling from Bolin.” 

“Feelings don’t make kings.” (Y/N) tsked, rolling her eyes at Korra.

“Must you always be so negative?” 

“I’m not negative, I’m realistic. A trait that you would do well to have.” 

A loud clatter out front startled them, and the two girls turned around to see the two boys darting down the street, knocking over whatever was in their path. 

(Y/N) and Korra had been friends for so long that it seemed like they shared one mind. Both ran out the door, their polished leather boots stomping against the muddied ground. Unlike the boys, they wove through the crowd of people. If anyone recognized that it was the princess running past them, they gave no indication. Stranger things had happened in their little town. 

“I’m going to cut them off!” (Y/N) shouted to Korra. She skidded to a stop. The boys were headed toward an alleyway that (Y/N) knew well. If she let them get to the end, they would disappear into the sewers and she’d lose them forever. 

She set her foot into the bricks that protruded from the building and started to climb. She had spent many years scaling the side of the castle when it all felt like too much. Lifting herself onto the roof of the building, she darted across and jumped down into the alley, her skirts billowing up into the air as she landed on her feet. 

Bolin let out a surprised shout at (Y/N’s) arrival, just as her ankles were reverberating with the shock of the drop. Past the two boys, Korra stood at the end of the alley, her fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of her sword. 

“Why did you run?” (Y/N) demanded, chest heaving from exerting herself. Both boys turned to her now, and (Y/N) laid eyes on the taller one, who must be Mako. Where Bolin was more broad, Mako was slender, his features sharper. His eyes locked on (Y/N’s), his brows furrowing in a mixture of anger and confusion, while (Y/N) felt a gasp escape her lips. His eyes were a brilliant shade of gold, a color that was rare for her people. 

“Well,” Bolin started, trying to catch his own breath. “When you come in with your captain of the royal guard, it kind of feels like you’re here to arrest us.” 

“Why would I arrest you?” 

“(Y/N), they’re criminals,” Korra snapped, and (Y/N) felt her face heat up from embarrassment. 

“You would be too if you lived in a town like this,” Mako said, his glare fixating on Korra. She unsheathed her sword. 

“Wait!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “Wait, what do you mean?” 

“Of course you wouldn’t know. You’re up there in your castle chugging wine and bathing in gold,” Mako snarled.

“Think of the queen bathing often?” Korra pressed, both of her hands on the hilt of her sword now. 

(Y/N) let out an exasperated sigh. This was not how today was supposed to go. she clenched her fists at her side. She was used to things going perfectly, things going her way. She should give up on these two. 

But Mako’s words were sticking to her uncomfortably, like her dresses did after she applied lotion. Were the people in her town really suffering? Why didn’t she know? Why wasn’t anyone telling her? 

“I didn’t come to arrest you,” The last bit of diplomacy had left (Y/N). She did not feel regal. She was tired and impatient. “I came to talk to you.” 

“What would you want with us?” Bolin asked, his figure noticeably relaxing. 

(Y/N) glanced past them, past Korra and into the street. People’s eyes were glancing inside the alley. There was too much attention here. “It’s...a lot to explain. Come back to the palace with us. I’ll tell you everything there.” 

“As your prisoners?” (Y/N) was growing tired of Mako’s attitude. 

“As guests! by the lion turtle, you’d think you two would’ve gotten that through your thick heads by now. I don’t want to have you arrested regardless of the crimes you’ve committed.” 

“She might not, but I do.” 

“Korra!” (Y/N’s) eyes flashed with anger, and her friend deflated, sheathing her sword. (Y/N) inhaled a deep sigh and closed her eyes. “Come back to the palace with me. I’ll explain everything once we’re there.” 

Mako and Bolin looked at each other, weighing their options. 

“Alright,” Bolin agreed, seeming a lot more excited than his brother. “Alright, we’ll go with you.” 

The carriage was far more cramped with the four of them inside. (Y/N) and Korra sat with their shoulders pressed together. Korra held her sword between her knees, her blue eyes flitting between both brothers. While Bolin looked out the window with wonder, Mako sat slumped, his arms crossed and his eyes downcast. 

“Are you hungry?” (Y/N) asked no one in particular. “I can have the kitchens make something. What’s your favorite?” 

“Do you have rabbit soup?” Bolin asked, but he continued before (Y/N) could answer. “I heard you had a labyrinth in your garden, is that true? Do you have horses? Is the crown you wear really heavy?” 

“Yes, yes, yes, and yes, but your neck gets used to it.” She smiled pleasantly. “You should see my father’s crown, though. That thing is a monstrosity.” 

Korra tensed at (Y/N’s) side. It was the first time she had mentioned her father to anyone else after his passing. (Y/N) was sure that Korra expected her to fall apart, but she had spent the past two months piecing herself back together. 

They walked through the front doors of the palace and a servant immediately took (Y/N’s) cloak and Korra’s jacket. They stared awkwardly at the two boys behind them. (Y/N) dismissed them quickly. 

“Would you like to freshen up a bit before we talk?” Bolin opened his mouth to say something, but Mako cut him off.

“we came here to talk.” 

(Y/N’s) smile dropped from her face. “Alright then. Follow me.” 

She led them to her study, which previously belonged to her father. A giant painting of him, her mother, and a young (Y/N) was hung over the roaring fireplace. (Y/N) leaned against the desk as Korra shut the door behind them, leaning herself against the hardwood to prevent any escape attempts. 

“I know it’s not every day the princess drops on you unannounced,” (Y/N) said. Her nerves shaky, she kept moving her fingers. “But after my father’s death, I spent a lot of time researching my family’s lineage.” She pulled the piece of paper from her bag and unfolded it. She double checked to make sure their names were still there, as if they would magically disappear on her. “You both are from a distant royal branch, completely unrelated to my own.” 

She handed the piece of paper to them, and both boys pored over the paper with their brows drawn together. Mako looked up at her. “So what does this mean?” 

“We’re royalty?” Bolin asked. 

“Yes. Next in line to the throne, actually. After myself.” 

“Oh god,” Bolin paled. “Did you bring us here to kill us so we wouldn’t challenge your claim to the throne?” 

“Does everyone in the kingdom think I’m a monster?” She held up a hand to silence Mako before he could respond. “No, I didn’t bring you here to kill you. I brought you to the palace to...give you both the life that is rightfully yours. Somewhere, many generations ago, your connection to the royal family was severed. I want to restore it.” 

“Why would you want that?” Mako asked, and it was the first thing he said that had no trace of anger. 

“I want to help,” (Y/N) admitted. “I came to town because I wanted to help you two, and then you mentioned that if we lived there, we would be criminals as well. If my people are suffering, I want to do everything in my power to fix it.” 

The brothers still looked wary, so she continued. “You could both stay at the palace, if you wanted. Wherever you worked would be compensated for your absence. You can live here and you’ll be treated well. I’ll let you have most anything you want, within reason.” She stared at them both hopefully. “Of course, if you don’t want that, I understand. A carriage will bring you back to town.” 

She locked eyes with Korra. If this went poorly, it could be the downfall of the kingdom. but (Y/N) needed to risk it. 

“Alright,” Mako said. He seemed to be the one that made the decisions. “We’ll stay, for now.” 

(Y/N) grinned, feeling absolutely elated. All that was left to do now was prove that they were worthy of the throne. 

She left Mako and Bolin to their own devices at first. She instructed Korra and any other servants to report back with how they were doing. So far, there was no suspicious activity, much to Korra’s disappointment. 

“I’m just itching for a reason to kick that Mako in the teeth,” Korra told (Y/N) as they walked to her next meeting. (Y/N) couldn’t hold back her laugh. “Seriously! he needs a huge attitude adjustment.” 

“I’m sure they had it rough, Korra, we need to be patient with them.” 

“I don’t know why you’re fighting for them so much. They’re criminals, they said it themselves.” 

“Maybe they had to be.” Korra rolled her eyes. 

“You’ve got your head in the clouds.” 

At the end of the hall, (Y/N) noticed Mako walking toward them. His dirty clothing had been exchanged for a nice red tunic and dark fitted pants. The servants had scrubbed his face clean and combed back his hair, but (Y/N) had heard that Mako ruffled it as soon as they were done styling it. 

“Good morning, Mako,” (Y/N) called out to him. He paused, his expression still serious as he nodded at them. “Would you like to join Korra and I for this meeting?”

“You can’t be serious,” Korra hissed, but (Y/N) paid her no mind. 

“We’re discussing funding today. I’d love to hear your input about where it should go.” She looked at him expectantly, willing him to say yes. She stared directly into his amber eyes. (Y/N) found that people had a hard time saying no to her if she looked at them directly. 

“Oh, uh,” he cleared his throat. “Alright.” 

They entered the meeting room together, (Y/N) taking her place at the elaborate chair at the head of the table. Korra stood at her side, arms behind her back. Mako looked at the seats, anxiously trying to figure out where to go. The men at the table stared at him warily, frowns on their faces. 

“Sit here,” (Y/N) offered, gesturing to the seat to her left. Tenzin, her treasurer, cleared his throat. 

“Your majesty, forgive me for interrupting, but that is Lord Tahno’s seat.” 

(Y/N) smiled and nodded. “Seeing how lord Tahno is late, I would like Mako to take his seat.” Korra tried to stifle her laughter, but failed miserably. She might not like Mako, but she loathed Tahno. (Y/N) guessed that Korra was eager to see the expression on his face when he finally walked in. (Y/N) was eager to see it as well. She and Korra would have a hearty laugh about it later. 

“Now,” (Y/N) continued. “I’m sure you’re all wondering about our guest. Mako is one of my representatives from town, so I invited him here today to discuss how the budget should be allocated to the people.” 

“Your highness,” said Tarrlok, another one of (Y/N’s) advisors. “I can assure you that the people are doing well. Just the other day, I was walking through the town. Children were laughing and playing, it was wonderful.” 

“Just because children are being children doesn’t mean they aren’t suffering,” (Y/N) said. She tried hard not to lose her temper with these people. They were used to certain lives, certain expectations. She didn’t need them to understand, she just needed them to follow her orders. “Take half of the money from my coronation and put it toward the people.” 

Mako raised an eyebrow at her, while the rest of her advisors began talking amongst themselves. “With all due respect, your majesty,” said Raiko. “Your coronation is of the utmost importance.” 

“How much money should it really require?” (Y/N) questioned. “All you have to do is say a few words and put a crown on my head.” 

The door opened then, revealing Tahno and the smug expression on his face. it immediately fell as soon as he saw that his seat was occupied. He recovered as soon as he saw (Y/N). “Your highness,” he drawled, approaching her chair. “My apologies for being late. There was a young injured fox on my way to the castle. I had to stop to assist it.” 

“Liar,” Korra coughed into her palm, pounding against her chest. “Woo, sorry. allergies, y’know?” Even Mako broke a smile. 

“Sit, Tahno.” Frowning, he sat a few chairs down from the princess, glaring at Mako. (Y/N) was grateful to have Tahno so far away. As soon as she had her first meeting, he had claimed the spot right beside her, trying his best to flirt. (Y/N) was in the middle of the appropriate marrying ages and Tahno made it very clear that he had plans to have her hand. 

“Mako,” (Y/N) said, turning to him. “Is there anywhere in town you could think of that needs funding immediately?” 

“Where do I start?” Mako joked, before he remembered exactly where he was. “Uh, the orphanage, your highness. Or the schools. Or maybe putting the money into the roads or some bath houses?” 

(Y/N) nodded as he listed off each of his ideas. She then turned to her advisors. “Did you get all of that?” 

They all scrambled to write down what the young commoner had been saying. “Let’s put the majority of the funding into the orphanages and the schools. We’ll start there, then work our way to everything else.” 

“I don’t see why we should be helping the peasants if they’re no longer providing anything for the castle.” Tahno leaned back into his seat. 

“It’s winter,” Korra deadpanned. 

“Regardless if they contribute anything to the castle or not, taking care of them is still our responsibility,” (Y/N) told him. 

“I’m just saying—“ 

“Keep thinking like that and you’ll have a revolt on your hands,” Mako interrupted Tahno. “The people know how you all live here. They don’t expect their own fancy castles, but they notice when they’re starving and you’re all throwing feasts.” 

“Tell me,” Tahno said, narrowing his eyes. “What’s your title? Why are you here?” 

“All things you’d know if you arrived to the meeting on time,” (Y/N) snapped. “The orphanages and the schools,” (Y/N) repeated to Tenzin. He nodded at her orders. “I think that’s enough for today. You may all leave.” She didn’t like this, didn’t like the arguments and how people tried to challenge her. She might see their point of view if she was some sort of tyrant that needed to be held back. But all she wanted to do was help people, and sometimes she felt like the best thing she could do for the kingdom was to not be queen. 

As everyone else filtered out of the room, (Y/N)) stood and went to the window. In the cloudy horizon sat their little town, the one that her family had been entrusted to care for. 

“Your majesty, may I have a word with you?” (Y/N) sighed and turned around. Tahno stood just a few feet away from her, blocked by Korra. Mako had remained in his seat. “In private?” 

“I’m actually feeling unwell today,” (Y/N) said softly. “You can request an audience another time. Korra, please escort Lord Tahno out.” 

“Gladly,” Korra said with a smile. Tahno stared at the princess for a few more moments before turning around, Korra following him. 

(Y/N) collapsed back in her seat, slumping down. She glanced over at Mako. “Thank you for coming today. And what you said. Sometimes it feels like they don’t believe anything I say unless it’s coming from a man’s mouth.” 

“It seemed to me like they didn’t want to believe anything I said unless it was coming from a lord’s.” (Y/N) smiled. 

“They’re not so bad. Just a little...traditional.” 

“And you aren’t?” (Y/N) shook her head. 

“There's so much I would change about everything.” 

“Like what?” (Y/N) was surprised at Mako’s sudden interest. His hands were slotted together and folded against his stomach as he leaned back. 

“Well, I don't think the coronation should be that big of a deal. It seems like a party for the rich people, and they have parties all the time. So I'd make it something smaller. Private, maybe. And I’d invite the whole town into the palace for feasts on holidays, so that everyone could get a hot meal. Maybe if people wanted, they could come to the castle if they ever needed a meal. Tahno would say that they’d eat me out of house and home, but I don’t think I’d mind, as long as people were happy.” 

“Tahno seems like a jerk.” 

“He is, but I can't say that or else his family would wage war on mine.” (Y/N) blew hair out of her face. “Everyone expects me to marry him.” 

“Well i don’t see why you wouldn’t want to,” Mako said sarcastically. (Y/N) grinned. 

“I’d also put an end to this horrid war.” 

“You want to end the war?” Mako raised an eyebrow. It stung a little bit, thinking that he would be surprised at her statement. 

“It’s not my war anymore,” She said quietly, glancing at the portrait of her father that said over the fireplace. He looked grand, a ring of shining light painted around his head. “It wasn’t even his. It was started a long time ago by men whose problems are nowhere near mine.” She turned to Mako, the corner of her mouth twitching up sadly. “At this point, I don’t think anyone knows what they’re fighting for anymore. All it does is hurt people.” 

They both knew what she was referring to. Just a few months ago, her father had been wounded on the battlefield for that very war. His death had been slow and painful, and as his only child, (Y/N) had to sit and watch. 

“I think those are great ideas, by the way.” Mako’s voice broke the silence and the sadness that had started to overcome (Y/N).

“Thank you. If only I had the time to implement them.” 

“Don’t you have a whole lifetime as queen?” 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to speak, but clasped it tightly shut. She couldn’t tell him about her plan. Not yet. 

“There’s just a lot of hoops to jump through.” She stood and glanced at the door. “Walk with me to lunch?” 

It wasn’t often that (Y/N) was summoned places. As princess, she did the majority of the summoning. But Tenzin had called her to the great hall for some undisclosed reason and (Y/N) was horribly curious, so she humored him. 

He bowed as she entered the room. “Your majesty. Thank you for making yourself available on such short notice.” 

The door opened behind her once more, revealing a very confused looking Mako and Bolin. Tenzin cleared his throat. “Considering that her royal highness brought you both here, I have taken it upon myself to properly train you as members of the royal court.” 

(Y/N) gasped excitedly, whirling around on the two boys, the large skirt of her dress flowing behind her. Bolin looked at her. “What does that mean?” 

“it means,” (Y/N) said, clasping her hands together. “That you’re getting royalty lessons.” 

“I'm good,” Mako said, moving to walk back out of the room. Tenzin raised his eyebrows at (Y/N), who gave him a confused look in return before she realized what he was trying to convey. 

“Oh! Right. I’m in charge here. Mako, you cannot leave. If you two are to remain in the palace, you have to have some sort of formal training. There are certain expectations that other members of the Court will have. People have started wars over minor offenses. It’s all stupid, but necessary.” Tenzin gasped. 

“The customs of our people are far from stupid!”

Mako looked horribly displeased, but the glimmer in Bolin’s eyes told her that at least he was excited. (Y/N) turned to Tenzin, a grin on her face. “Of course. Take good care of them, Tenzin.” 

“Actually, your majesty, I was thinking that you could also partake in these lessons. A little refresher is never a bad thing. I’ve noticed your elbows have begun making their way onto the table.” 

(Y/N) frowned deeply as bolin and mako snickered behind her. “I think my elbows should do whatever they damn well please.” 

Tenzin sputtered. “Language, your majesty!” And while she was the princess and could certainly refuse, the hopeful and pleading look on Tenzin’s face made her concede. He had been her father’s best friend. With a sigh, she nodded. 

That was how the three of them had ended up with stacks of books on their heads. It had taken (Y/N) a few tries to get the hang of it once more and just as she was feeling confident, Tenzin would add another book. Mako and Bolin, however, were struggling greatly. 

“I think my hair is making the book fall,” Bolin told Tenzin, who rolled his eyes. 

“The purpose is to glide, not walk, across the floor.” 

“What the hell is gliding?” Mako questioned. 

“And watch your tongue!” tenzin insisted. Mako huffed, and (Y/N) giggled as she glided over to him. 

“Just humor him,” she whispered as she walked around Mako. She pulled his shoulders back to straighten them, and with a single finger lifted his chin so that he had to peer down his nose at her. “Try it now.” 

Mako took a few wary steps forward, but the book didn’t fall, not until he turned back around to smile at (Y/N). It slid off his head, knocking into hers before tumbling to the floor. 

“Ow,” (Y/N) grumbled, rubbing her hand against her forehead. Mako stared at her with wide eyes. 

“I'm sorry,” he apologized, but his shocked expression soon faded as he saw the smile playing at her lips. He had to admit, it was rather funny. 

“Uh, (Y/N)?” bolin asked, and then received a swat on the head from Tenzin. 

“You will refer to her as your majesty, your grace, or your highness!” 

“Your grace (Y/N)?” bolin tried to correct, avoiding another swipe from Tenzin. “How’d you get Mako to do that book thing?” 

“Oh! It’s easy, let me help,” and she walked over to Bolin, moving him the same way she had moved Mako just moments before. Bolin took his own steps forward, looking similarly to a baby lamb walking on its legs for the first time. 

“I’m doing it!” He cheered as he walked around the room. “I'm royalty!” 

After their walking lessons was a pretend lunch in which they learned what utensils to use when. (Y/N) was rather disappointed at the lack of food before them. She found herself growing hungry. 

“Now, say you had a soup dish before you. What utensil would you use, your highness?” 

(Y/N) looked down at the array of forks, spoons, and knives, all in a range of different sizes. She pursed her lips as she thought. “Do I go from the outside in?” She wondered aloud, searching Mako and Bolin’s faces for answers. They both gave her a shrug: they were just as lost. “Or do i go from the inside out? You know, tenzin, I’m curious why it matters at all what utensil we use when. As long as the food gets in our mouths, I don’t see an issue.” 

Tenzin sniffed. “I see you’ve been spending time with Korra.” 

“Really, I think different types of utensils should be banned. All we need are forks, knives, and spoons. Perhaps I'll propose it at our next meeting.” 

“I second that,” Mako said as he stared at a big fork and a small fork. 

“Can i vote, too?” Bolin questioned. “Because while I think it’s a great idea, (Y/N) your highness, I think we should keep this little baby fork. It’s quite adorable.” 

(Y/N) hummed, banging the handle of her knife on the table as if it were a gavel. “It’s settled. No different types of utensils, unless it’s a baby fork.” 

Bolin cheered as Tenzin groaned. 

“For your last lesson,” Tenzin began as they left the dining room. “We shall work on dancing.” 

“That’s my cue to leave,” (Y/N) said quickly, gathering the skirts of her dress and darting away. Mako and Bolin exchanged a quick look before darting after her, leaving Tenzin all by himself. 

“I expect to see you all at the same time tomorrow!” 

(Y/N) was surprised as she was walking the grounds to find Bolin wrestling with members of the knighthood. She left her handmaidens and ran over to them immediately, thinking the worst. Maybe one of them had made a comment about Bolin’s upbringing. Maybe Bolin had offended the knight in some way. 

“What is the meaning of this?” (Y/N) demanded, her voice projecting over the cheers of the knights. they died out, falling to one knee and bowing their heads. The two remained wriggling on the ground. “Bolin!” (Y/N) shouted to gain his attention. 

The fighting halted, and her knight, Sir Tonraq, looked up at her and smiled. He was Korra's father and one of their kingdom’s greatest generals. He rose slowly to his feet and bowed at the waist. “Your majesty,” he said calmly. “Bolin asked that I show him a few moves. It was all in good fun, I can assure you.” 

(Y/N) glanced down at Bolin, who was panting but otherwise looked unharmed. He remained on the ground, his face upside down as he grinned up at (Y/N). “Afternoon, princess! lovely day, isn’t it?” 

“You asked Sir Tonraq to wrestle you?” 

“Well uh,” Bolin rose to his feet. “Not in so many words, but I guess. He and the others were training and it looked really cool! Do you think I could get a sword?” He looked between (Y/N) and Tonraq.

“Why don’t you walk with me for a bit, Bolin?” He nodded and joined her, leaving Tonraq and the rest to return to their training. “I'll be frank: is being a knight something that interests you?” 

Bolin nodded eagerly. “Oh yeah, it always has! Ever since I was little, I wanted to be a knight. pops used to tell us his grandfather was a knight and I thought it was the coolest thing ever, but then Mako said that it was all just a story pops made up to get us to go to sleep. But hey, now I’m starting to think Mako was wrong!” He flashed another smile at (Y/N). 

“If you’re a knight, you can’t be a king,” (Y/N) said, her voice very solemn. Bolin raised an eyebrow. 

“Well you’re queen, so—“

“I'm not the queen,” (Y/N) interrupted. “Not until my coronation.” 

“Either way, it’s still you and mako before I can even think about becoming a king. I think I'd make a great knight, though! saving damsels, slaying dragons.” 

(Y/N) giggled. “Dragons have been extinct for years.” 

“Someone never heard the fairytale of the dragon prince!” 

“You'll have to tell me sometime.” They walked past the lakes, where turtle ducks swam and splashed in the water. “If you really want to be a knight, Bolin, we can arrange it. It’s a lot of intense training, but if you think you’re ready—“ 

“I know i’m ready!” 

“Alright,” (Y/N) laughed. “I’ll call for the town blacksmith and you guys can meet and discuss what you want your sword to look like.” 

“Doesn’t the castle have a blacksmith?” 

(Y/N) smirked. “We do, but I've got a plan, dear Bolin.” 

Korra was going to kill her. 

The clanging of metal on metal alerted the two of them to some other sort of commotion. (Y/N) and Bolin walked to the source of the noise, located at the armory. At first, (Y/N) could not discern who was inside, but she soon heard Korra’s familiar grunts and shouts. 

They walked through the armory, passing different swords, daggers, shields, and pieces of armor as they made their way back to the practice area. There, on the sandy ground, stood Korra and Mako. 

(Y/N) hadn’t expected Mako to be a very good swordsman. He had grown up as an orphan, after all, so she looked up at Bolin with one eyebrow raised. The brother smiled brightly as he watched the two fight. “Mako once stole a sword from some rich kid in town. He got pretty good at fighting until the sword got stolen from him.” 

“Hopefully he doesn’t best my Captain of the Royal Guard,” (Y/N) said in a loud voice as she walked over to the railing. “Or else I might need to start holding interviews!” 

“Shut up!” Korra shouted back at her. The distraction gave Mako just enough time to swipe Korra’s feet out from beneath her. Korra was quick, however, and rolled out of the way before he could hold the point of his sword to her chest. She jumped back up to her feet and attacked with such ferocity that it intimidated even (Y/N). 

Korra, like (Y/N), had spent much of her life being underestimated by the men of their kingdom. Where (Y/N) would rather use that to her advantage, it bothered Korra to no end. She spent years training harder than any other knight in their Royal Guard, any other knight in their entire army, until she could best them all. If (Y/N) was Mako, she would be terrified. 

Their swords collided in air, and Korra circled her weapon, wrenching Mako’s from his hand. She caught it by the blade in her other hand, an exhausted smile coming to her face before she thrust the handle of her sword at him. “You’re not horrible.” 

“You’re amazing!” Bolin exclaimed, eyes wide as he stared at Korra. “You were good too, Mako, just not as good as her.” “Gee, thanks, Bo,” Mako said as he wiped sweat from his brow. 

Korra narrowed her eyes at (Y/N). “You were trying to distract me for him.” 

“You’re so dramatic,” (Y/N) said as she rolled her eyes. Korra smiled, her eyes moving between Mako to (Y/N). 

“Bet he couldn’t take you,” Korra said. She always liked to initiate challenges. 

Mako raised an eyebrow at the princess. “You can swordfight?” 

(Y/N) scoffed. “Who do you think was Korra’s practice dummy?” 

“I thought princesses weren’t supposed to learn how to fight,” Bolin wondered aloud. “Wouldn’t Tenzin say it’s unbecoming?” 

(Y/N) nodded. “He certainly would, and he did. Many times.” 

Korra waved a hand. “That old coot wouldn’t know what fun was if it smacked him in the ass.” She offered her sword to (Y/N). “Go on. Fight him.” 

A grin settled on (Y/N’s) lips, her expectant eyes landing as Mako. She hopped over the railing. The skirt of her dress was large, making it a bit difficult, but she had been doing it for years. “What do you say?” 

Mako furrowed his brows. “I don’t want to fight you.” 

“Come on, Mako, I’m in a dress. It should be easy for you to beat me.” (Y/N) tossed the blade between both hands. Mako looked from the princess to Korra and Bolin. Bolin seemed nervous, but Korra leaned against the wooden post of the building with a smile. 

“We shouldn’t,” Mako said, shaking his head. 

(Y/N) lifted her chin and smirked, pointing her blade at Mako. “I order you to.” 

His eyebrow quirked up as his face flushed, the corner of his mouth tilting up just slightly. “As you wish, your majesty,” And (Y/N) felt a shudder travel down her back. 

(Y/N) swung first, knowing that Mako would be too scared to initiate the first move. He blocked, spinning around in an attempt to disarm her. (Y/N) noticed that all of the movements he was making were attempts to knock the sword from her friends, but she held onto it. Her dress made moving quickly difficult, but she could tell that he was restraining himself. 

“If you keep holding back,” (Y/N) said as their swords collided. “I’ll make you spend a night in the cellars.” 

Mako let out a laugh, but his fighting style started to completely change. He was quick and pressing, trying his best to push her into a corner. Their swords hit midair once more and Mako shoved forward. 

(Y/N) lost her balance and fell, landing on her side as she cried out. Mako dropped his sword and ran to her side, kneeling down to his knees as his brows knit together in worry. “Are you alright?” He questioned, searching to see what was hurting her. 

In an instant, (Y/N) lunged and tackled Mako onto his back. She hovered over to him for a split second, their faces only inches away as she smiled down at him. She scrambled back up to her feet, setting one foot on his chest as the tip of her sword pointed at his neck. 

“That’s my girl!” Korra cheered from the sidelines. 

Mako stared up at her, eyes still wide with surprise. Her hair had fallen from its bun, wisps of sweaty locks sticking to her temples and neck. Her chest heaved as they caught her breath, and her eyes sparkled with a wild twinkle that Mako hadn’t seen before. 

“You fight dirty,” Mako said. 

(Y/N) shrugged. “Have to do what you must to win.” She stepped off of his chest and let her sword trail down his stomach before tossing it to the ground. She linked arms with Korra and walked out of the armory, muttering something about desperately needing a bath. 

Mako remained on the ground as he caught his breath. Bolin hopped over to the railing and joined his brother, his eyes widening as he noticed the state he was in. Bolin directed his green eyes elsewhere. “Um, Mako? Do you have a--” 

“Shut up, Bolin.” 

“You—!” Korra said as she burst into the dining room. (Y/N) had a mouthful of bread stuffed in her cheeks. “You wicked woman!” 

Mako and Bolin glanced from Korra to (Y/N). They weren’t sure if Korra’s anger was genuine. On a normal day, if anyone spoke to (Y/N) that way, Korra would have them thrown out. Was there anyone that could throw Korra out?

(Y/N) swallowed and smiled, buttering another piece of bread. “I’m not sure what you mean.” 

Korra crossed her arms and poured her lips, tapping her foot against the marble floor. “You invited the blacksmith here on purpose!” 

“Yes, that purpose was so that she could make Bolin a sword.”

“And that has nothing to do with how I made a fool of myself the last time we saw her?” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Then you should be thrilled that I invited her so you could make a good second impression.” 

“Am I missing something here?” Bolin asked. 

“No!” Korra snapped, just as (Y/N) whirled on him with a devious grin. 

“Korra’s got a crush on the town blacksmith.” 

“I hate you,” Korra seethed. (Y/N) paid her no mind. If she had a gold piece for every time Korra told her that, she’d be the richest person in the entire world. 

“She’s supposed to be arriving soon. Should we call her into the dining room?” 

“No!” Korra and Mako spoke at the same time. (Y/N) had been expecting that reaction from Korra, but from Mako? 

her playful demeanor dissipated as she saw the troubled expression on mako’s face. “Very well,” she said quietly. “When she arrives, you’ll meet her in the smithy.” Bolin nodded. 

Korra had left to take out her anger on some unsuspecting recruit. The rest of the meal was consumed in silence. 

An uncomfortable feeling settled in (Y/N’s) stomach, like she had done something wrong. She had expected korra to react that way. When it came to her, Korra was all bark and no bite. She would get over it in a few hours, and would undoubtedly be excited at seeing Asami. But the look that had appeared on Mako’s face had startled her. It was like she had hurt him in a way, and she didn’t know how. 

(Y/N) retired to her bedroom, dismissing her handmaidens. She wanted to be completely alone. 

Her room was large, but it was not the biggest bedroom in the castle. That was her father’s, which had remained untouched since he passed away. After her coronation, (Y/N) would be expected to move into it. And she wasn’t sure that she could handle being in a room that reminded her of her father so fully. 

But (Y/N) liked her room. It had grand windows, with a stained glass one at the very center, depicting a colorful image of the two founders of her family line. As the sun shined through, it cast colors all throughout the room. Her bed was large and soft, with four posts and a lovely canopy surrounding it. Books were now scattered across the floor from her research and she had many wardrobes all along the wall, filled to the brim with dresses and gowns. They ranged from poofy and elegant to plain and simple. 

She flopped onto her bed, staring up at the high ceilings. What would happen to her once she was no longer royalty? Perhaps she would take her savings and buy a cottage on the side of a hill. She knew very little about fending for herself, but she would learn. She could buy animals. Or maybe she would settle in a cottage by the sea and fish for herself. She had read a book once that detailed how to make sea salt from the ocean. 

(Y/N) closed her eyes, envisioning the peace that would overcome her once the crown was off of her head.

 She wasn’t sure how long she had slept, but when she awoke her stomach was growling, indicating that she had missed dinner. She sat up, her body feeling stiff from sleeping in her corset. She moved her arms around her back, her fingers trying to pull at the ties that bound her. It was no use without a handmaiden. 

A knock sounded at her door and (Y/N) jumped up, feeling a little dizzy from having just awoken. She went to the door and pulled it open, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

Where she had expected to see a handmaiden, She was surprised to see Mako standing in front of her. “Oh,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Do you need something?”

“You weren’t at dinner,” he explained. “Did I upset you?” (Y/N) liked how straightforward Mako was. He saw things simply. 

“Not at all! I just fell asleep.” She craned her neck to the side to stretch it. 

“Oh. Well, alright.” He seemed to be deciding whether he should leave or say something more. 

“I'm sorry for inviting the blacksmith girl unannounced. If I had realized you had a past with her—“ 

“Who said I had a past with her?” 

(Y/N) snorted. “Well, it was pretty obvious, considering you almost pissed your pants at the idea of seeing her.” 

Mako rolled his eyes. “You can invite whoever you want to invite, you’re the queen.” 

“I’m not,” (Y/N) insisted. “Not until my coronation.” 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, why do you keep putting that off? You’d think that anyone would jump at the opportunity to rule a kingdom.” 

(Y/N) pressed her lips into a line. “I like to take my time.” 

“Seems to me that you enjoy rash decisions.” 

“And you know me so well?” 

Mako shrugged. “I’ve been here almost a month. I like to think that I know a little about you. Jury's still out on the golden baths, though.” 

(Y/N) scrunched her nose. “I don’t care for chugging wine, either.” 

Mako laughed, and (Y/N) realized it was the first time she had actually heard the sound. It was pleasant. Warm. 

“I was with the blacksmith, for a period of time. It didn’t end very well.” 

“for you or for her?” 

“for either of us.” (y/n) nodded, leaning against the door frame.

“Korra’s smitten with her.” 

“Who wouldn’t be? She’s beautiful.” His eyes glistened with a flash of realization that she couldn’t understand, and then he shut his mouth. 

“If Asami wasn’t good for Korra, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” 

mako nodded, his face very serious. “Of course.” 

“She’s my best friend,” (Y/N) said quietly, studying mako’s face. “She’s all I have.” 

“That can’t be true.” 

“It is.” (Y/N) gritted her teeth. The thought of someone hurting Korra made a rage bubble in her belly. “I’ve lost both of my parents. Korra is the only thing keeping me here.” 

“The only thing?” 

(Y/N) felt her face grow hot. she looked down at her feet. “I’m tired of standing. Do you want to come inside?” 

“Inside...your room?” 

“Yes, my room.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and stepped aside so Mako could enter. He looked around at her space as she moved to her wardrobe and pulled out a comfier dress. 

“This entire room is bigger than the house I grew up in.” 

“I’m sorry for that.” (Y/N) moved behind her screen, trying to tug once more at her ties now that she was more awake. 

“It’s not your fault. It was still a nice home.” (Y/N) let out an exasperated sigh. Her arms couldn’t contort in the way she needed them to. “Everything alright back there?” 

(Y/N) poked her head from behind the screen. Mako sat at the edge of her bed. “I need a small favor.” 

“I suppose I can’t refuse the princess.” 

(Y/N) walked over to him and turned around, pulling her hair to the front. “Could you untie these for me? I'd do it by myself, but I can't reach.” 

“Where are your handmaidens?” 

“Obviously not present at the moment so please, mako, if you don’t mind.” 

He stood, and with nimble fingers he untied the silk ribbon of her corset. (Y/N) breathed in deeply and exhaled. she could finally breathe properly. She held the corset to her chest with her arms and turned around. “Thank you,” she told him, before she moved back behind her screen to get changed. “One more thing I'd do as queen is banish uncomfortable dresses.”

Mako chuckled. “The people would throw a festival in your honor.” 

She moved out from the screen once more, this time wearing only her nightgown and a silk robe to cover it. She had pulled the pins from her hair, allowing it to move freely. “Tell me about your parents,” She said. It was rare she got a moment alone with Mako. She wanted to learn as much about him as she could. 

“There’s not much to tell. They were killed by a mugger when we were out walking one night.” 

“‘We?’” (Y/N) repeated. “You were with them?” Mako nodded. “Oh, Mako, i’m so sorry.” 

“It was a long time ago,” Mako said as he swallowed. “But it’s why Bolin and I had to learn to steal. it was the only way we could survive.” 

“The orphanage—“ 

“We went, for a while. A couple wanted to adopt Bolin. I couldn’t let them separate us, so we ran.” Mako shook his head. “You probably think me selfish, for keeping my brother from a chance at a better life.” 

(Y/N) sat beside him on her bed. “When Korra was eighteen, she became a knight. I was happy when she did, it was all that she wanted her entire life. But then I thought about how knights go to war and sometimes they don’t return. So I asked my father to do something to keep Korra here. He assigned her to the royal guard. I know it’s not her dream, but it’s all I could do to keep her safe.” she looked at mako. “What I’m trying to say is, no, I don’t think you’re selfish. I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“If korra’s the only thing keeping you here, why do you want to leave so badly?” 

(Y/N) stiffened, furrowing her brows. “What are you talking about?” 

“It’s plain to see. Refusing your coronation, not even batting an eye at marriage proposals. bringing bolin and I here. I knew you wanted to leave as soon as you brought us here, but I couldn't figure out why.” 

(Y/N) swallowed. “I’m not fit to rule a kingdom.” 

Mako scoffed. “I’d beg to differ. you boss everyone around better than anyone i’ve ever met.” He was trying to joke, but (Y/N) was not in the mood. 

“I don't like meetings or the people I have to spend my time around. You saw it for yourself, some of them are insufferable. I can’t lead an army into battle, but I can’t sit back and watch innocent people die for my sake. I just...my parents were such good people. My mother knew how to ease everyone’s worries. My father knew when to be strong for others. I don't have either of those qualities. I've had Korra to protect me my whole life. The kingdom would be better off if someone else ruled it.” 

She turned to mako. “Which is why I found you and Bolin and brought you back to the palace. I had to make sure you both would be good kings, and you are. I can’t think of anyone more reasonable, or kind and just, or strong as the two of you. I want you to take my throne, Mako. You would be such a great king. You’re in touch with the people.” 

She swallowed, nervous from his silence. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But I truly do believe you’d be wonderful.” 

“And if I say no?” 

(Y/N) furrowed her brows, shocked. “I'll ask bolin.” 

“And if he says no? Will you stay?” (Y/N) was at a loss for words. “Because I know that if I say yes, you will leave. So why would I when it’s the only way you’ll stay?” 

She stared at mako. His golden eyes bore down into hers. She tried to read his expression, but there were too many thoughts bouncing around in her head. “I can't, Mako. Losing both of my parents nearly destroyed me. If something else happened…” She closed her eyes tight. “I know I wouldn’t be a good ruler.” 

“You do not know yourself.” Mako squeezed her hand. 

(Y/N) sniffled. “We could talk circles around each other all night. We won’t change the other’s mind.” 

“I—“ Mako huffed, closing his eyes. “I want to be selfish with you, (Y/N).” He released her hand and stood, walking out of her room without looking back. 

(Y/N) crawled beneath her covers. her stomach rumbled in protest, but she felt too sick to even think about eating. She closed her eyes and fought for sleep. 

When (Y/N) opened her eyes, she was only a little alarmed to see someone sleeping beside her. As her mind came back to life, she recalled Korra coming to check on her. She must have seen the worry etched onto (Y/N’s) face because she had taken off her boots and crawled into (Y/N’s) bed like they used to when they were little. 

(Y/N) turned over and stared at Korra, silently willing her to wake up. Her stomach rose and fell as she breathed easily, but (Y/N) caught the quick upturn of her lips. She moved closer to her friend. 

“You’re so weird for staring at people when they sleep,” Korra said quietly, her voice gravelly from sleep. 

“You’re grumpy in the morning,” (Y/N) replied back. She laid down on her pillow. “Mako visited me last night.” 

“I know. I saw him leaving your room. Part of me thought that maybe you guys had—“ 

“We didn’t, but if you’d like the conversation to go in that direction I’d love to hear how you spent your time with Asami.” 

“I didn’t spend any time with her.” (Y/N) groaned. 

“So now I have to invite her back to the palace just so you can make a move. You’re despicable. Next time I need to be there to make sure you actually do something.” 

Korra chuckled, then opened her eyes and turned over to face (y/n). Her expression was softer. “What happened with Mako?” 

“I told him that I wanted him to be king. and he said no, because it would mean that I left.” 

“Swoon,” Korra sighed. 

“Not swoon. What am I supposed to do now?” 

“You could stay.” Korra's blue eyes locked on hers. “I don’t understand why you’re so eager to leave. You have a good life here, (Y/N).” 

“I know that, but it doesn’t feel like my life. I feel like an imposter whenever I do anything even remotely royal. I was never supposed to be—“ 

“Enough about you not meant to be the heir. Yes, your mother was pregnant when she passed away, but that doesn’t mean she would have had a boy.” 

“The doctors said—“ 

“The doctors are wrong about things all the time. They said you’d be taller than me, and look where we are now.” (Y/N’s) face formed a pout. “You are meant to be the heir, because you’re here.” 

(Y/N) shoved her face into her pillow and screamed. Korra patted her on the back. “Look. If what you really want is to run away and never be heard from again, then I’ll support you. I don’t like it, but I’ll support you.” 

(Y/N) felt a stinging pain in her chest. Korra was a much better person than she was. Braver, stronger, selfless. (Y/N) turned her head to look at her once more. 

“I asked my father to keep you here,” (Y/N) said. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you going out into battle. A monarch shouldn’t behave so selfishly.” 

“(Y/N),” Korra sighed, wrapping her arms around her friend and pulling her into her chest. “I asked your father to keep me here, with you. You’d end up falling down the stairs if it weren’t for me.” 

(Y/N) gave Korra a light punch in the stomach, but smiled and hugged her friend back. “I don’t want to do royal things today.” 

“You don’t have to. Tis the blessing of being the one in charge, hm?” 

“But I have meetings.” 

“Hm, yes.” 

“And Tenzin wanted to talk about my birthday celebration.” 

“Oof, that’ll be a fun conversation.” 

“But maybe if I had a really fantastic friend who knew me very well and would be able to make decisions based on what I would want, then I’d be able to stay in my room all day…” 

“It’s a shame you don’t have one of those.” Korra laughed. “Alright, I’ll be queen for a day. But first I need to make sure you eat. Your stomach was so loud last night, I wanted to kick you.” 

So the princess sat in her bed, munching on fruit. She wasn’t sure what she would do on her day off, so she sat in contemplative thought. She could read, but she always read. Would Korra be upset with her for going outside? She wondered what excuse Korra might have made on her behalf. 

(Y/N) stood and decided to at least get dressed for the day. She chose a simple white tunic and trousers, securing the middle of her shirt with a belt. She slipped on her boots and took a look at herself in the mirror. Sometimes it was nice to not look like a princess. 

A knock at her door made her jump. She opened it, surprised to find bolin standing before her. “Korra said you weren’t feeling well,” Bolin said. his face glistened with sweat. “So I asked Tonraq if I could check on you for a few minutes.” 

(Y/N) smiled. “That’s very kind of you, Bolin, but I’m quite alright. I just needed a day off. Being a princess isn’t all sunshine and rainbows.” 

“What’re you gonna do?” (Y/N) shrugged. 

“I haven’t figured it out yet. What has everyone else been up to?”

“Well, Korra and Mako have been going to all of your meetings.” 

“Mako? Why would he—?”

“He didn’t tell you? Mako decided that he’ll take your throne if you plan on giving it up. Huge weight off my shoulders, honestly. I don't think I'd be a very good king.” 

(Y/N) felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. What had changed his mind? 

She and Bolin parted ways and (Y/N) sneaked through the castle, hoping to not be seen by any of her advisors or servants. Mako’s advisors and servants. Her brain was muddled. Bolin's news came as a shock to her, considering how Mako had behaved the night before. She tried to press it to the back of her mind. 

Suddenly, an idea popped into her head. She ran into the nearest room, a storage room with dusty boxes, but with a window big enough for her to fit through. She threw it open, inhaling the cool afternoon air. She lifted herself over the ledge and secured her foot to a protruding brick. Slowly, she shimmied down the side of the castle. 

“What are you doing!” a voice shouted, startling (Y/N) so much that she nearly lost her hold on the side of the building. She looked down, glaring at the perpetrator. Mako. He stared up at her, his face etched in worry and concern.

“Are you trying to make me fall?” She called down to him, taking another step. 

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” 

“Just shut up, will you? You’re gonna draw attention to me!” 

“As if scaling down the side of the castle isn’t doing that already.” 

(Y/N) continued climbing down until she was just a few feet off the ground. She landed on her feet, perfectly unharmed. “See?” She gestured to Mako, spreading her arms wide and rotating. “I’m fine.” 

Mako crossed his arms. “Korra said you weren’t feeling well. Something about you throwing up everywhere.” 

(Y/N) should have known better than to trust Korra with creating an excuse. She crossed her own arms. “I needed a day off. Shouldn’t you be in a meeting or something? Bolin said you’d been going to them all morning.” 

“You spoke with bolin?” 

“Why did you change your mind?” she questioned, her eyes narrowing. “You seemed very adamant about not taking the position last night.” 

Mako pressed his lips into a thin line. “I guess you could say I had a change of heart.” 

“Well.” (Y/N) swallowed, casting her eyes to the ground. “Thank you, really. The kingdom will be better off.” 

Mako said nothing for a moment before changing the subject. “Tenzin wanted us to tell you that your birthday celebration will be at the end of the week.” (Y/N) groaned. “What, you hate your birthday now too?” 

“I don’t hate my birthday. They just make a whole ordeal of it. Fancy dresses and customary dances and absolute asses begging for my hand in marriage while also insulting me. It’s a mess.” 

“Sounds like a fun time to me,” Mako said with a smile. (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“It’ll be easy for you. You’ll have women falling in front of your feet to get a chance with you.” 

Mako raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that?” 

(Y/N’s) face flushed hot. “It’s the title,” she said quickly. “The title is what they’re all after, normally.” She looked up at the cloudy sky. “Well, I must be off to do my day off things.” 

“Care for some company?”

“But your meetings?” Mako shrugged. 

“Korra can handle it.” (Y/N) broke out into a grin. 

“She’s going to hate us.” 

(Y/N) wasn’t sure what she wanted to do, so she had to think on her feet. She’d like to go into town, but was far too tired for the social energy that required. So, she decided to take Mako to the ruins. 

The ruins were a forgotten part of their kingdom, ignored by all except (Y/N). She had discovered them once on one of her long walks along the castle grounds. They were the remnants of a great castle, probably even greater than the one she lived in, just a few miles away. She had scoured every book in their library, hoping to have some clue to who the ruins had once belonged, but had no luck. 

“I’ve only told Korra about this place, but she doesn’t like coming here. Says if she wanted to be surrounded by old dusty things, she’d spend time with Tenzin.” Mako let out a laugh at that. 

She led him up the entrance steps and through the threshold. They stood in the foyer, light pouring in through the absent ceiling. Before them stood a great staircase, leading up into each level of the castle that had once been there. “I think it’s beautiful,” (Y/N) continued. “It's like a whole world people forgot about. I used to make up stories about what happened here when I was little. I'm sure they’re still tucked somewhere beneath my bed.” 

“You’ll have to read them to me one day,” Mako said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants. (Y/N) smiled sadly. 

“Let me show you the best part.” 

She led him up to the tower, the only remaining fully stable part of the castle. Ivy vines curled up the base of the tower, having grown so much that they now started to cover the inside as well. Instead of windows, the tower had complete openings in the brick. It made it very cold, but it held a better view of the kingdom than (Y/N’s) own castle. In the distance were the mountains, the entire town nestled in a little pocket beneath them. Closer was the castle, its entire structure and grounds in complete view. (Y/N) glanced up at Mako, but his eyes were trained on the view before them. she smiled. 

“I hadn’t been expecting to come here,” (Y/N) said, wrapping her arms around herself. “Or else I would've brought a jacket.” 

“It really is exceptional,” Mako agreed. “Thank you for bringing me here.” 

(Y/N) shrugged. “You should know what’s in your kingdom. You’re going to be King Mako, after all.” She smiled brightly up at him. 

Mako’s cheeks flushed a pale pink. (Y/N) couldn’t tell if it was from the wind or from something else. 

She returned to her room, surprised to see Korra sitting on her bed and twiddling with her bronze dagger. “I thought you were going to stay in your room all day.” 

“I got bored, went to the ruins. How was your day?” 

“For the most part, boring. I’m never doing your job ever again. Although you should’ve seen Tahno and Mako today. It was like two starving dogs fighting over a piece of meat.” 

“Really? And what was the meat?” 

“You.” (Y/N) nearly choked on her own air. “Tahno kept insisting that he come to your chambers to make sure you were alright. I would’ve punched him in the face, but Mako was all, ‘I forbid you,’ and Tahno said, ‘Who are you to forbid me?’ And Mako said ‘Your new king.’ It was very dramatic, I wish you could’ve been there. Although now I think everyone is under the impression that you’re going to marry Mako.” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. She would have paid thousands in coins to be able to see that conversation. “I’ve decided I’m leaving after my birthday celebration. One last hurrah, you know?” 

Korra sat up quickly, a frown on her face. “Where will you go?” 

“Somewhere,” (Y/N) shrugged. “Not far away from you, of course. Someone has to keep you in line.” 

“You won’t be my princess anymore. I won’t have to listen to you.” (Y/N) laughed. 

“As if you ever listened to me anyway.” 

(Y/N) had struck a bargain with Tenzin for her birthday celebration. She would go all out, as he wished, as long as the people in town were invited. She wanted to make sure that her last act of being royalty would be good and that it would help people. Begrudgingly, Tenzin agreed. 

A birthday such as this one called for something more than the dresses that were in her closet. She could have paid to have one made, but a better idea had taken root in her head and wouldn’t leave. For the first time in years, (Y/N) walked into her mother’s chambers. 

The room had been well taken care of, as per her father’s orders. No dust shined in the sunlight. It was cleaned every day, each element inspected to ensure that there had been no damage to her mother’s memory. Carefully, (Y/N) stepped through the doorway and to her mother’s wardrobe. 

There had been one dress that her mother had worn that was always her favorite. She found it in the middle of the wardrobe, sticking out just a little more than the others as if it were calling to her. It was a beautiful sage green dress, made of the finest satin. It’s neckline came just below her collarbone, exposing the smooth skin of her shoulders. It’s sleeves reached her elbows, widening out into a bell shape. The dress’s design was simple, but (Y/N) felt that something this beautiful did not need extra frills. 

Once the handmaidens had helped her dress, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her mother stared back at her. “You look just like her,” said Katara, the oldest of the handmaidens. She had been with (Y/N’s) mother since she was a baby, and had been with (Y/N) for nearly the same amount of time. (Y/N) smiled down at her. 

“Thank you.” Katara moved over to the glass cabinet that contained her mother’s jewels. Inside sat the queen’s crown, each diamond polished to the utmost brilliance. (Y/N) bent down so the small woman could place it on her head. 

Korra met (y/n) at the top of the steps, dressed in her royal guard uniform. “You look beautiful,” Korra said, her eyes glistening with tears. This would be the last night the two friends would see each other. 

“So do you,” (Y/N) said with a smile. “You clean up well.” 

“Hush,” Korra said, elbowing (Y/N) in the ribs. (Y/N) giggled before looping her arm through hers. 

“I may or may not have extended a personal invitation to Asami,” (Y/N) said as they walked down the grand staircase. They could hear the voices coming from the ballroom. 

“I know,” Korra said with a smirk. “I may or may not have hand delivered said invitation.” (Y/N’s) eyes widened with excitement. She’d have to try her best to keep her eye on Korra throughout the night. 

Bolin and Mako waited at the bottom of the steps, too engaged in their conversation with each other to notice the girls approaching. Korra cleared her throat as soon as they were right behind them. The brothers turned around. 

Bolin spoke first, a bright smile coming to his face. “Hey! You guys look great!” Bolin wore a deep green suit, paired with a gold cravat. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” (Y/N) beamed down at him. She turned to Mako, whose eyes were trained on her. 

(Y/N) had never held much reverence for the boys that surrounded her as she grew up. They were all stuck up or arrogant, eager to impress the princess so they would have a chance at being king. She ignored them as best as she could. Her life was too busy to focus on anything other than her duties. Whenever she had gotten a free moment, she preferred to spend it with Korra. 

But as she stared at Mako, with his quick eyes and permanent smirk in a deep red suit, she felt something she had never experienced before. A pulling at her chest, deep and fierce at the bottom of her heart, that made her breath catch as soon as he smiled at her. 

(Y/N) had always felt out of place in her royal life, like she was constantly keeping up an act. It made sense, then, that she would have fallen for the boy whose life was completely opposite to hers. 

“You look beautiful,” he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear. (Y/N) felt her face grow hot. He offered her his hand. “May i?” 

(Y/N) looked back at Korra, who gave her a wink and disappeared into the crowd with bolin. She turned toward mako and nodded, placing her hand in his. 

The first few dances of the night were group dances, the kind where the pairs swapped partners throughout. (Y/N) would be lying if she said she hadn’t completely ignored all of her partners as they tried to talk to her, instead searching the crowd as she spun around until her eyes landed on Mako. Sometimes, it seemed like he had been looking for her too. 

After Tenzin announced her birthday and the crowd erupted into cheers, the music slowed and quieted, playing softly as the guests mingled amongst themselves. It was then that (Y/N) found Mako standing at the edge of the crowd. 

“Where’d you learn to dance like that?” (Y/N) asked as she approached him. Mako smirked. 

“Commoners have parties too, you know.” (Y/N) grinned. 

“I'll have to go to one sometime.” Mako shifted on his feet. He seemed nervous. 

“I didn’t get the chance earlier, but happy birthday (Y/N).” She smiled again. 

“Thank you, Mako.” 

“Could you walk with me? I hate to take you away from your guests, but…” 

“It’s really alright. I told you, I'm not the biggest fan of these sorts of things.” She took Mako’s hand in hers and let him lead the way. 

He took her through the hallways of the castle and to his room, a simple guest bedroom on the floor below hers. “Wait here,” he said, before disappearing inside and shutting the door behind him. (Y/N) raised her eyebrows, confused. whatever she had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this. 

After a few moments, Mako opened the door, one of his hands behind his back. “Alright, you can come in.” 

Slowly, (Y/N) entered his room. It was simple, but there were elements of it that were so Mako. It was hard to explain why it made (Y/N) feel giddy being in there, or why butterflies had nestled themselves in her stomach. 

“I got you a present,” Mako said. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” (Y/N) chided. 

“I know, I wanted to.” He placed a small box on the wooden table between them. (Y/N) reached for it. “Before you open it, I want to say something. I sincerely thank you for bringing my brother and I into your home. for giving us the means to lead a better life. And while I’ve accepted your offer of taking the throne, I just wanted to say…” He paused, chewing on his bottom lip. “I wanted to ask if maybe you would change your mind.” 

“I'm not changing my mind about this, Mako. I don’t want the throne.” 

“Not that, I couldn't care less about the throne. I wanted to ask if you would change your mind about leaving.” 

(Y/N) blinked at him, unsure of what to say. 

“I didn’t accept your offer because I want to be king.” 

“Then why did you?” 

“Because if I don't, if I force you to stay here, I could be preventing you from doing what is best for you. So I agreed to be king because I didn't want you to be trapped here. Which is why I’m begging you now, please stay.” 

“Mako…” 

“You can’t tell me there isn’t a part of you that isn’t unsure about leaving. I saw it that night in your room. You might not want the crown, but you’re not certain that you want to leave.”

“If I give up the crown, there’s no reason for me to stay. I can’t just live in the palace as a commoner. I'd have to leave, it’s the only thing to do.” 

“I want you to lead the life you want. I know your plan is to leave the kingdom tonight. If leaving is what you think is best, I understand.”

(Y/N) stared up at him. She was unsure what would be best. She had no plan, no idea what she wanted to do once she had walked through the castle gates. She anticipated that things would figure themselves out. 

But the man in front of her was throwing a wrench into her plans. He stared at her so honestly that (Y/N) thought he might be staring into her soul. Was leaving what she really wanted? She would leave behind everyone she had ever known. Tenzin, Korra, Bolin. And Mako. 

“If leaving is what you truly want,” Mako continued. “After tonight I will send you away with everything you need. I won’t bother you again. But before you leave, you have to know. I need you to know. That I love you, (Y/N). You are reckless and brave. You once called me kind and selfless, but those are the qualities I see in you. You asked me to take the throne and I did. I’d take on the weight of the world for you if you requested. If you leave, you’ll be taking a piece of me with you.” 

(Y/N) looked up at him, searching his face for a smirk or a trick, but Mako remained serious. Genuine. 

“If you don’t feel the same, I understand. I just needed to tell you before it was too late.” 

(Y/N) swiftly crossed the distance between the two of them, fisting her hands into his dress shirt and pulling him down toward her. Her lips collided with his. In the fairytales she used to read, it always took someone a moment to get used to being kissed by the other, but Mako was quick. His arms wrapped around her frame, pulling her so tightly to him that she felt like she might burst. 

They pulled away a few moments later, Mako leaning his head against hers as they caught their breath. He separated first, reaching back toward the small box that had sat forgotten on the table. mako’s nimble fingers untied the box, guiding one of her hands to it. 

She opened it, revealing a ring. Its band was gold, with a large diamond set in the middle and two smaller diamonds surrounding it. It was simple, but it was the most beautiful ring (Y/N) had ever seen. 

“It was my mother’s,” Mako said quietly. “Even if you leave, I want you to take it with you.” 

Tears streamed down her face. “What’s wrong?” Mako questioned, lifting his hands to her face to wipe away her tears. “Did I upset you?” 

(Y/N) shook her head fiercely, trying to gather her voice. “You’d give me something so precious to you, even if I decided to leave?” 

“You are precious to me,” Mako insisted. “I want you to be happy. No matter what you choose, (Y/N), I won’t hate you.” 

She looked up at him through watery eyes and stood on her toes, kissing him once more. When she pulled away, she laughed. “I tried to convince myself that I didn’t have feelings for you. I thought it would make leaving easier. But every moment I spent with you made me sad, because it meant that I was one step closer to the last.” She lifted her hand to touch his cheek, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. “I never expected for you to have my heart, but it’s yours.”

Mako breathed a sigh of relief, a bright smile coming to his face as he drew (Y/N) into his arms. He spun her around the room, both laughing before he set her back down again. 

He took her right hand and slid the ring on her middle finger. They exchanged a knowing look. Not yet. 

Once (y/n) had composed herself and Mako had sneaked his fair share of kisses, the two left his bedroom and returned to the ball, filtering back into the crowd completely unnoticed. 

A tap on her shoulder startled her, and (Y/N) turned around to find Korra smirking down at her. “Where have you been? Tahno hijacked the ball for a bit. Said he wouldn’t let anyone leave until you accepted his proposal.”

“Did he?” (Y/N) questioned, her grip on Mako’s arm tightening. “I must’ve been distracted. I trust you took care of it, then?” 

“Duh,” Korra smiled. “I enjoyed throwing him through the palace doors.” 

(Y/N) squinted at Korra's face before reaching up and rubbing at the corner of her mouth with her thumb. Lipstick, in a shade strikingly similar to Asami’s. 

“I can explain that,” Korra said quickly, wiping at her face with her sleeve. (Y/N) laughed. 

“You can tell me all about it in the morning.” 

“In the morning?” Korra repeated, her blue eyes going wide. She glanced at Mako, who looked absently elsewhere, but the corners of his lips were turned up just slightly into a smile. 

“See you tomorrow, Captain Korra. Feel free to arrive a bit late.” (Y/N) gave her a wink before pulling Mako further into the crowd to dance.

---

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[ketamineharry]

Piece by Piece ~ Ethan Payne

Requested: Yes ~  Can you please write an imagine based off of piece by piece by Kelly Clarkson? Thank you! I love the rest of your work

Tags: Major Ethan feels, baby Behz x

The past couple of days had been hard for you to say the very least. Your relationship was growing at such a rapid rate, you had only been with Ethan for just over a year, when you found out you were expecting.

You were over the moon for your little family to be expanding, but you still had a niggling feeling of doubt. The reason for this, was crystal clear in your mind. The way that you and Ethan had bonded wasn’t exactly conventional.

You had met at a work event, you worked as a PR manager for GymShark, one of Ethan’s biggest sponsors. After a few dates, you had bonded over the fact that you both had absentee fathers. That you both felt a sense of not being worth the others time and attention, because time and attention was limited for the both of you.

The earliest memory you could recall, was watching your dad leave you at an airport. The excuse he gave at the time was a “holiday”. The feeling of confusion washing over you, holidays had always been a family thing. So why was your dad going away on his own? Although you were fairly intelligent, it took you a good few months to realise that your father had left you and that he wasn’t coming back.

The feeling of complete abandonment and not feeling worthy had stayed with you for a long time. Right up until you had met Ethan. You had worked through your daddy issues together, battling all of the self-loathing and doubt that, that had left you both with.

Yet here you were, pregnant with baby Behzinga & you couldn’t even pluck up the courage to tell him. Deep down you knew that Ethan would never do anything like that to your child. To his child. You knew he would want to prove that although his dad was a deadbeat, that he was always going to be there for your little one no matter what challenges may come his way.

-

You had made up your mind to tell Ethan. You had kept the pregnancy test that you had taken, disinfected it and wrapped it in a gift box. You wanted this to be a surprise. You didn’t want to just tell him.

You ordered some of your favourite local Chinese, and sat with each other cross legged on the couch watching some reality show or the other. Now was the perfect time. Domestic bliss. If this is what Ethan, wanted. Truly wanted. There wouldn’t have been a greater opportunity than this one.

Entering your bedroom, you went over to your bedside cabinet and opened the first draw. You fished around for the gift box for a little while, before finally placing your hand on it. From that moment on, the nerves completely engulfed you. What if this wasn’t what Ethan wanted? What if he was just going to up and leave you and your child?

Although you had every faith in him, it was still extremely hard for you to push those thoughts away and completely reject them.

You make your way back into the living room, Ethan giving you a small smile as you sit next to him. Your hands starting to tremble as you placed the gift box between you both.

“My words always fail me at times like these,” you say breaking the silence. “So I didn’t want this to be my words.” You hand him the gift box, nervously waiting for his reaction.

He opened the box, tears filling his eyes. “Please tell me this isn’t some sort of joke.” He says, quietly. You shake your head no, before he wraps you into a tight hug placing a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you so much.” He whispers softly into your hair.

-

It had been a very long nine months. Long and testing, you and Ethan had faced more trials and tribulations in your relationship than you ever had. Now here you were, in the maternity unit having just given birth to your daughter, Eliza Ruth Payne.

Ethan sat in the corner of the room, cradling her in his arms. His tear stained face still red and blotchy. “Hi Princess, I’m your daddy.” He says softly. Waving slightly at her. As he did, she reached up and wrapped her hand around one of his fingers.

You knew that you would all be safe, that you would all be ok. Piece by piece, you had proven to each other exactly what love is.

[love-sapphirerose]

Inuyasha and Kikyo Is the Feudal Romance We Deserved

Inuyasha and Kikyo are well known for their doomed romance in Rumiko Takahashi's iconic Inuyasha series. But what if Kikyo had lived instead?

BY DIANE DARCY

PUBLISHED MAY 16, 2021 With the 2020 debut of Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon, fans of the original Inuyasha series got an opportunity to revisit familiar faces as well as meet the children of their favorite pairings who front the new series. But what if one of these pairings had turned out differently? What if, instead of dying and reincarnating as Kagome Higurashi, Kikyo had actually lived to spend the rest of her life with Inuyasha?

While Kikyo living would’ve resulted in a very different story from the one Inuyasha creator Rumiko Takahashi developed, it also could’ve resulted in a more epic romance story. What is it about Inuyasha and Kikyo as a couple from 50 years ago that makes them so compelling? The characters could have developed very differently, with some fascinating aspects of Japanese history enriching their story even further.

In both the manga and anime, one of the unifying themes of Inuyasha and Kikyo's relationship is the two characters feeling out of touch with their humanity. In Inuyasha's case, he is a hanyou (a being who is half human and half youkai) born to a human mother and a great dog youkai, both of whom had high status in their respective communities. Despite this, however, Inuyasha was rejected by both humans and youkai alike for not being of pure blood. As such, he was forced to fend for himself at a very young age, resulting in feelings of self-loathing and a profound distrust in others.

Kikyo was born into a human village that she later protected as a miko (shrine maiden) after reaching adolescence. Little is known about her childhood apart from the fact she was born with strong spiritual potential (as narrated by her younger sister Kaede), though much of it can also be pieced together based on the history of miko in Japan. As stated by Tsubaki -- a rival of Kikyo -- in Episode 147 of the Inuyasha anime, a miko's spiritual power thrives when she abandons all human feelings. She also warns that as a woman, Kikyo could naturally fall in love, which would cause her powers to weaken.

Though Tsubaki's explanation of a miko's spiritual power is treated as a curse by Kikyo in the anime, it is actually consistent with how young girls trained to become miko in Japan's earlier history, most notably during the Sengoku period (when Inuyasha takes place) and especially in centuries prior. As practitioners of Shinto, young girls who trained to become miko underwent various purification rituals as a way of strengthening their spiritual power. Since purity is central to the Shinto belief system, miko were not permitted to marry as it was believed that compromising their sexual purity would also compromise the strength of their spiritual power. This last part is relevant to Kikyo's storyline.

Inuyasha and Kikyo's storylines converged when the latter was given custody of the Shikon no Tama, a powerful jewel with a reputation to grant any wish to its possessor. Inuyasha desired the jewel as a means of erasing his humanity in exchange for becoming a full youkai, though he had to get through Kikyo to get it. While Kikyo had the skills and power to keep the jewel safe, she also found her new occupation even more isolating than being a miko alone. After meeting Inuyasha, Kikyo became aware of her human desires and emotions, which factored into her decision to rid herself of the jewel and pursue life as an ordinary woman.

The premise of Inuyasha desiring to erase his humanity with Kikyo desiring to reclaim her humanity created strong story potential that deserved further fleshing out. This was done to an extent in the anime story The Tragic Love Song of Destiny (Episodes 147-148) that depicts the budding romance between Inuyasha and Kikyo, leading up to the moment where she proposed Inuyasha use the Shikon no Tama to become human. At the time, Kikyo theorized that if the jewel was used to make Inuyasha fully human, it would be purified and would cease to exist. The original Inuyasha manga and subsequent anime adaptation, of course, established towards the finale that this would not have been the right wish. But realizing this could've been an important part of Kikyo's journey.

Another major development that could've still happened in a universe where Kikyo lived is the shattering of the Shikon no Tama -- this time by a weakened Kikyo, which would've been a huge wakeup call for her. Recalling what Tsubaki said earlier about how falling in love would cause her powers to weaken, being responsible for shattering the very jewel she was entrusted to purify would've shaken Kikyo to the point of rethinking her priorities. This would've placed Kikyo in a position of needing to learn new skills to supplement her miko training, which in turn could've created opportunities for character growth.

A meaningful change that could've come out of this journey was Kikyo realizing that the key to strengthening her spiritual power was embracing all aspects of her identity. Maybe she needed to realize that rejecting any part of herself -- whether it be her human self or miko self -- was why she wasn't being an effective guardian of the jewel. Allowing herself to experience human emotion may have allowed her to channel her powers in a smarter, more effective way.

Related to the plot of shattering the Shikon no Tama, the wounded thief Onigumo (whom Kikyo was nursing in a cave) could've still become the evil hanyou Naraku with the same motivation as before: wanting Kikyo for himself and desiring the Shikon no Tama as a means of getting her love. He still could've sent various youkai after Kikyo to exhaust her as he did in Tragic Love Song, only things didn't go his way. Instead of mortally wounding Kikyo, one of these attempts to exhaust her could've resulted in the aforementioned jewel's shattering, allowing the story to play out as it did originally -- but with some key differences.

Keeping Naraku as a villain would've still been important for Inuyasha's character development as he embodied a much darker version of Inuyasha's own goals. This could've forced Inuyasha to reconsider his own motivations for becoming a full youkai and whether or not he should take up Kikyo's offer to become fully human. Naraku's obsession with Kikyo could've similarly made Inuyasha re-evaluate his own feelings for Kikyo, whether he's similar to Naraku in lusting for her or if he actually loves her as a person. There's also the factor of Kikyo being exposed to Inuyasha's human side during moonless nights and the vulnerabilities that come with such moments. This too could've forced her to re-evaluate her own motivations for wanting Inuyasha to erase half of what he is as a means of purifying the jewel.

By getting to know Inuyasha in both of his forms, Kikyo could've ultimately decided against erasing what makes him unique, effectively changing her plans for purifying the jewel. Her thoughts on this could've been further solidified after experiencing what Naraku was capable of with only shards of the jewel as opposed to the complete jewel. Naraku's dark motivations could've similarly provided Inuyasha and Kikyo with the perspective to realize none of their problems would be resolved by casting a selfish wish on the jewel, regardless of their intent. Instead, they both could've reached the same conclusion that the only way to relieve themselves of the jewel and its destructive power was by wishing it out of existence, effectively allowing the jewel to destroy itself just like it originally did.

While keeping Kikyo alive would've changed significant aspects of the Inuyasha story, it also could've resulted in a more focused romance with more profound character development. Since both Inuyasha and Kikyo have a unifying theme of not feeling in touch with their humanity at the start of their respective narratives, their journey could've focused on them rediscovering their humanity together while not rejecting what makes them unique. By reconciling all aspects of themselves into more mature identities, their relationship would've been stronger for it.

[draconic-ichor]

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 28: The Pot Boils Over

Warnings:” strong language, sexual themes

Summar: Juniper finally comes clean to Heisenberg…

Feedback appreciated. 18+

Their interactions for the following days didn’t fare better. Juniper was touchy and moody, almost bursting into tears at some of Heisenberg’s comments. He was at a loss, used to her being a bantering partner.

She’d started avoiding the workshop, from a mixture of the smell and her recent lack of patience for his joking. At night Heisenberg would frequently hear her crying softly when she thought he’d fallen asleep or while she hid away in the bathroom.

It broke his heart.

He knew she was suffering, but wouldn’t talk to him. When he would attempt to get answers from her it seemed to push her father away.

So he started focusing on work more, spending more time away from the apartment.

His worry worked its way into a sharp blade, slicing into him when his mind would wander.

Was it his fault? It must be. That’s why she wouldn’t speak to him…

The thought swam darkly around his brain.

How did he fuck up?

The worry was blanketed with anger and annoyance, his usual response to hard to process emotions. He knew what being angry felt like, it was normal. It was easier to handle, he thought.

But it made him simmer like a kettle, ready to boil over every second. The deeper he sunk into worry and self-loathing without any type of answers, the higher the heat rose on the kettle.

After their most recent spout, it finally did boil over…

Heisenberg sat reading at the table, smoking a cigar quietly. Juniper bruised herself with cleaning up the dishes after their most recent meal. The smoke hit her face, making her wrinkle her nose. For some odd reason it sent a sharp bolt of annoyance through her.

“Do you have to do that?” She grumbled as she wiped down the table with a damp rag.

“What??” Heisenberg looked up sharply, confused.

“Smoke at the table while I’m cleaning.”

“And? It never bothered you before.”

“It’s bothering me now!” She snapped.

Heisenberg dropped the cigar in the ashtray, fixing her with a narrow gaze. “Just deciding to be a complete bitch to me or does it just come naturally?” He barked, leaning back in the chair.

“Excuse me?” Juniper threw down the rag, turning to meet his gaze.

They stared down at each other for a long, tense moment. Juniper was the first to break, looking away with glassy eyes.

“You are such an asshole.” She began to walk away, hiding her face.

“Me?” Heisenberg stood, anger rising, “You’ve been treating me like shit.” He went after her, grabbing her wrist in a strong hold. Juniper stopped dead but didn’t look back at him.

“Why have you been acting so damn weird?”Heisenberg asked, his brows knotting together. His voice was rough and accusing.

“Getting all buddy-buddy with Donna?” He walked towards her, “Being quiet as hell around me? Acting like I’m going to bite, what’s going on?”

Juniper’s shoulders shook a bit, refusing to turn toward him. He didn’t take the silence well, grabbing her arm and forcing her to face him.

“Juniper, fucking talk to me!” He almost begged, “If I fucked up just tell me.”

He saw tears start to fall from her eyes, her lips trembling. Heisenberg heard the cups and plates in the cabinets begin to shake and clink together.

He took a breath, trying to calm his voice a bit, realizing she was much more distressed then she was letting on.

“Buttercup?” He wiped a tear away, “What did I do?”

Juniper pushed him away a bit, “W-we messed up Karl.” On the chairs fell away from the table with a loud clatter, papers swirled around them.

Confusion clouded his eyes.

“K-Karl,” she stammered through tears, “I’m pregnant!”

His grip fell from her, his face losing color. In the wake of his silence she started to blurt everything out.

“I've been asking Donna to teach me how to sew and make clothes so I c-could maybe make things later.” Her hands covered her face, “And I've been trying to c-collect things that wouldn’t be suspicious.”

Heisenberg stumbled back a bit, his lips a thin line. His mind was a garbled mess, stomach totally flipping as he almost lost his footing. The floor felt like jelly under his legs and thought hammered through his brain. So much made sense now but damn…it was a lot to take in.

“I didn’t know how to tell you!” Juniper cried, “I thought you would hate me.” The papers and small bits of metal began to fly erratically around them, silverware rattled in the drawers as the kitchen knives threatened to pull free from the block.

She gulped, looking up at him, “Please say something. Say anything!”

She almost begged, “Just yell at me Karl, please!”

Heisenberg looked almost dumbfounded, eyes wide, as he asked in a low voice, “Buttercup, you’re pregnant?”

“Haven’t you been listening?”

“Are you sure?”

“I think so…I took a test.” She looked down, “And my stomach feels different…”

“Fuck.” Heisenberg whispered, crumpling into the kitchen chair. His hands balled into his hair.

Juniper stood still for a moment, trying to control her breathing. Everything in the room started to slow until the debris around them fell to the floor. The cabinets grew silent as the soft hum died. Juniper wiped her eyes with a shaking hand.

“How long?” Heisenberg’s voice was hardly auditable.

“About a month.” She admitted, padded closer.

He put his face into his hands, his thoughts a storm in his head.

“D-Do you want me to leave?” Juniper asked, her voice wavering.

He looked up suddenly at her, “Of course not! Just give me a fucking second ok.”

She nodded, worrying her hands.

~

It was a while before they had a real conversation about the matter, eventually sitting down to talk.

Shocked couldn’t begin to describe how he felt.

He shifted between bewilderment and fear.

“Heis…” Juniper knocked on the side of the doorway to the shop.

Heisenberg didn’t move, his chin resting on his folded hands, “Hm?”

“Can…can we talk?” Juniper’s voice was heavy, almost pleading.

“…sure.” He answered, his voice was not tinged with any ill.

She came forward, pulling up a chair to sit close to him. They sat in silence for a long moment before words tugged at her lips.

“You haven’t broken anything.” She observed, almost surprised.

“I’m not angry.” He said frankly, not moving his head to look at her.

“Then…what are you?” She ventured.

He mulled over his answer, not truthfully sure himself.

“Confused.” He finally admitted.

Juniper nodded in understanding, even though she had time to process everything.

“And a bit upset.” He went on, “That you waited so long to tell me.” Juniper opened her mouth but he continued, “We’re in this together…you shouldn’t feel like you have to hide shit from me.”

His words stung a bit but she understood his hurt.

“I’m sorry.” She reached out a hand, fingers finding his coat sleeve.

He gave a little rumble of acknowledgment.

“This also makes our lives a lot more complicated…everything is fucked.”

“Does it have to be?”

“Well it sure as hell puts me on a tight time limit on the whole ‘revolution’ thing.” He snorted.

When she didn’t speak he rattled on, “Your in danger…so much more than before. I’m not losing you again.”

His voice was determined, almost breaking under the weight of his promise to himself.

“And about…about the baby?” She held onto his sleeve even tighter, worry making her tremble a bit.

His lips were a thin line, eyes clouded. “We’ll figure it out…” he sighed, “Won’t let that bitch have it either.”

His words gave her a bit of relief; hearing his want to protect not only her but the baby quelled her fears of him rejecting the child altogether

“…you said you took a test?” He ventured, words breaking the silence that had blanked the room.

Juniper nodded, “I bought one from the Duke.”

“Where is it now?” He asked.

Juniper shifted uncomfortably.

“What did you do with it, Doll?”

“I…panicked.”

“Where?”

Her eyes teared up a bit, “I-I threw it off the balcony…into the scrapyard.”

Heisenberg gave a heavy, exasperated sigh. There was a silence between them for a moment before Heisenberg stood, “I have to find it.”

He paused, “What does it look like?”

“A little pink and white stick…made out of plastic.” She admitted.

“Of course it fucking is…”

~

It took him three days of sifting through scrap to find the test. When he found it he burned it until it was unrecognizable then disposed of it in the deepest reaches of the factory. Now that it was gone it gave him a small semblance of relief.

Even now Juniper acted like more of a mother then Miranda had: speaking fondly about the growing life and in the soft tones of her voice. The very fact she strove to learn new skills for the future child’s benefit spoke volumes to him.

He was still on the fence with how he felt, a mixture of fear and confusion. But seeing her be the thing he never had brought hope to flutter about his chest like a young bird.

Neither of them knew, or could recall, their true parents, no memories to guide them now. But they had each other and a dug in desire to keep this child safe.

The most important thing now was secrecy.

Heisenberg knew it couldn’t have just been a miracle of nature. It had to be the work of Mother Miranda, some sick scheme to breed a vessel from her strongest subject.

But fuck all of that.

This was his, his blood, his baby.

And he would do everything in his power not to let her sink her golden claws into it.

~

That night as they got ready for bed together Heisenberg practically scooped Juniper up and took her to the bed. She made little sounds of protest but he was persistent. Now that the immediate threats were sorted out he just craved comfort.

He flopped onto the bed, nuzzling into her. She wiggled into a more comfortable position on him, cupping a hand over his strong jaw.

“What’s all this for?” She smiled.

“You’ve been so worked up recently that you’ve been a prickly bitch to me for weeks…I just want to hold you ok.” He huffed out.

Juniper looked away, the guilt flooding back into her. She blinked away the threatening salt water, her heart clenching. She hugged onto him, “I’m sorry.” She sniffed.

He accepted the hug, nuzzling into her hair and huffing out deeply. “I know…” he murmured.

They lay there for what felt like hours, just enjoying each other’s heartbeat and warmth. Tension seemed to flow from them, the comfort washing away weeks of stress.

“I love you.” Juniper murmured into his chest.

“I love you too, buttercup.” He whispered back, dropping a kiss onto the crown of her head.

Heisenberg was still concerned for her and their situation beyond words, but the heaviness of the world could wait. He lay back, holding Juniper to his chest as he thought. The fact she carried his baby at that very moment still baffled him. Something deep in his heart sparked to life, burning brighter and hotter the more it all settled into reality in his mind.

He squeezed her softly, earning a little mewl.

Fuck…he was going to be a Father.