#but the female companions RULE

[tatzelwyrm]

Maybe it's because I'm tipsy, but Lae'zel is getting more and more likeable by the minute (she just told a terrified Tiefling to bow before her and it was funny!).

In my experience Githyanki are pretty much always written to be assholes, and Lae'zel is no exception, but she has such good reasons to be furious 24/7. Especially given the history between Gith and Illithids, the whole tadpole parasite situation must be the worst she could imagine happening to her and I understand her.

Yas girl, be angry, be upset when characters don't take the situation serious enough, kick some ass!

[haharuspex]

shout out to, like, 5 other people in the entire dragon age community who main aeducans + kill their stupid ass brother trian

anyway my floki aeducan :) she's an ass a rogue and a bastard (literally)

[lavandulawrites]

Yandere Genshin Men Eating Out Their Darling

Characters: Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Capitano, Childe, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Dottore, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Kinich, Lyney, Neuvillette, Ororon, Pantalone, Pierro, Sethos, Thoma, Tighnari, Venti, Wanderer/ Scaramouche, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli (all separate)

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

I decided to do ca. 100-200 words each character to keep it nice and simple:) (some are over 200 tho). This took me longer than expected haha. My requests are open, but read my rules before requesting <3 (Let me know if anyone wanna be apart of my taglist).

Masterlist

Warnings: NSFW 18+, cunilingus, all sexual acts are consensual, female reader, obsession, possessiveness, some of the yandere tendencies are more subtle than others, future imprisonment, face sitting, jealousy, fingering, Stockholm syndrome, manipulation, forced marriage, reader is indifferent to some of the yandere behaviour in some of the parts, translation at the end, power imbalance

Word count: 4779

Albedo

The unforgiving wind of the icy mountain howled against the treetops. The fireplace was lit given you much needed warmth. It had been 2 months since you had moved up into the cozy cabin high up in the mountain with the famed researcher.

His hand scissored skilfully into your cunt before his tongue joined them. The cold left you quickly as his tongue dove in deeper into your fluttering cunt.

You were glad you had taken upon the offer of the blond haired man and followed him up to Dragonspine. Here you had been happier than ever before and you believed him when he said that others would just do you harm.

Alhaitham

The scribe was a calculated and well composed man. So who would have thought he would lose his composure so easily when it came to you? Your presence was enough to make his seemingly cold manners crack and turn into poorly hidden admiration. Alhaitham did anything he could to keep you as shielded from the outside world as possible.

His muscular arms kept your legs open as he devoured you with uncharacteristic vigour. He sneered like a starved animal as he left mark after mark on your thighs. A guttural sneered left his lips as he dove his face further into the warmth of your cunt. You cooed at him lovingly as shivers of pleasure ran through your body.

Ayato

Ayato had always had his way with words. He had always had the upper hand no matter the circumstances. He was a beautiful man and he reminded you of a siren. His lilac eyes enchanted you to no extent. His touches intoxicating, leaving you wanting more. He was a dangerous man, that much you knew, but it didn’t stop you for seeking him out time after time. He was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but he loved you, oh so much and he kept you safe.

His bed was soft as and comforting. The doors open and welcoming in the breeze from the sea. The moon was high and clouds covered some of its white body.

The pale blue haired man was busy with burying his face between your legs were he ate you out with precision. His eyes never leaving yours as he showed you what it meant being the wife of the head of the Yashiro Commission. You found yourself melting in his touches and any thought about your parents disappeared without a trace. The smug smirk of the ethereal man was out of your understanding as you lost yourself to pleasure.

Baizhu

The Bubu Pharmacy was empty save from the two of you. The lights were dimmed and the window closed to keep the cold autumn night air out. Candles were lit to give you some much needed light. Baizhu’s trusted companion, the snake that often accompanied him, was in another room far away.

Orange reptile like eyes gazed down on you gently as he moved slowly down your body and to where you wanted him the most. His light touches teasing and making you hunger for more.

He parted your thighs skilfully as he kissed up your slit before he entered your hole with his tongue. The very same tongue which had driven your family and loved ones away with elegantly spun lies and well hidden treats.

Now the only thing you needed was him and his gentle, loving touches.

Capitano

The 1st Harbinger was a big and righteous man. He was stronger than any human that walked the earth and he never broke his word. He had first intimidated you with his size (and he still did at times), but you learned that underneath his helmet was a charming man. His charm was difficult to pinpoint as it was different from most, but it had greatly intrigued you.

His large hands held your legs firmly as they rested in his shoulders. He was kneeling at the foot of the bed with his head buried in your soaking cunt. His helmet was carefully placed on the dresser. Capitano’s long black hair fell against his shoulders as he lapped up your juices. His dark midnight blue eyes stared up at you, making you shiver under their intensity.

“You are so beautiful [Name]” his voice a groan.

You let yourself get lost in the pleasure and you couldn’t care less about the havoc he had caused when a rowdy man had accidentally bumped into you.

Childe

Blood were still coating the ginger strands of the warrior who had you pressed down on his face. The first thing he had demanded when he got home from yet another business trip, was for you to sit on his face. Who were you to deny your husband?

His grip on you were as intense as the rest of the man. His blue eyes were shut in bliss as he ate you out like it was his last meal. And if he had the choice he would die happily between your thighs as he told you at every given moment.

You didn’t last long with that damned tongue of his and before you knew it, you were clutching the headboard for much needed support. Instead of letting you get off, he simply glanced up at you with big eyes full of love and utter devotion.

As he continued to stare, it became obvious of who the blood in his hair belonged to.

Cyno

The white haired Mahamatra had his gazed locked onto your weeping cunt. His calloused hands ran down your sides till they got hold of your hips. His tongue plunged into you like a starved man and drove moan after moan out of you. He had finally managed to convince you to stay at home in his fine house as he would take care off you. Given his mannerism you could tell he was greatly pleased with himself.

His skill full tongue drove you quickly to your climax and you intertwined your hand in his white locks as he licked up your sweet release.

His red eyes looked up at you lovingly as he continued his previous pace. You were in for a long night.

Dainsleif

Blond hair tickled the sensitive skin of the inside of your thighs. The Khaenri'an’s hands were digging into the flesh of your skin as he lapped at your sweet juices. Dain had told you time after time that you were the only person that relived him of the pain that was caused of the curse that was cast upon him. As following he never let you leave him. You had long since learned that the soothing effect you had on his curse was only a tiny tiny fraction as to why he never let you leave his sight.

His groans and your soft moans were echoing through the empty halls of the ruin. The blond man drove his tongue deeper and you felt you were close. You chest heaved up and down in a rapid motion as you tried to calm down form your release.

Cerulean eyes stared up at you with devotion one normally only found in a worshipper of a god. How ironic. Words feel from his mouth which you had no means to understand, yet you felt the meaning through his unrelenting gaze. “Jeg elsker deg, jeg elsker deg, jeg elsker deg, min kjære [Name].”

Diluc

The soft glow of the fireplace warm against your naked skin. The light from the fire lighting up the muscular chest of the redhead that leaned over you. His lips locked against yours in a passionate kiss. Your tongues danced in a seductive tango which made you ache with need between your legs. Diluc hummed as he noticed your thighs pressing together.

With his head between your thighs he worked you closer and closer towards or orgasm. His movements passionate and filled with love. You ran your hair through his red locks. You were truly happy in the arms of the man who loved you more than life itself. You ignored the words of others. So what is he was overprotective and so what is he didn’t want strangers talking to you? He was only trying to protect you.

Dottore

The Doctor was a talented man when it came to the art of intimacy. It was a rather shocking discovery at first, but you was happy he had showed you his ways in the bedroom.

The threat of being imprisoned forever within the walls is his lavish manor hang low over your head like a guillotine. Despite that you couldn’t care less. Not when he was nestled between your legs and lapped at your cunt with such gentleness and love you almost wept. To awaken such emotions within the second Harbinger was a defeat in itself, one which you treasured greatly.

His groans synchronised with your moans in a symphony of love and lust. It made you curious for the future and uneasy for what he had done to your loved ones.

Gorou

The life of a general was busy and dangerous. His days existed of leading battles and giving out orders. So it was only natural he was extremely touch starved when he returned from war and to you.

When you greeted him in the hallway of their cozy home he almost leaped into your arms. You hugged him tightly, glad he wasn’t hurt. He buried his face in the crotch of your neck. “Oh how I have missed you” his voice a whisper.

Pale hands gripped your thighs in a tight grip. Blunt nails digging into your skin. Your hands held onto the headboard with enough strength so you wouldn’t collapse on the man underneath you. His tongue drilled fast and deep into your drenched cunt. He was eating you out like a wild dog. Your every nerves was haywire.

Your breath hitched as Gorou drove you faster and faster to your climax. The brown haired man beneath you muttered chants of “I love you” against your clit over and over again. He had promised you when you pulled you onto the bed that he would never ever leave you again, and judging by his intense look you believed him.

Heizou

Slim fingers ran down your thighs leaving goosebumps in their wake. Dark red hair brushed against your nose. Light green eyes gazed into your eyes with lust and love. Your lips locked in a soft kiss. He tasted sweet like cherries. Your lips pulled apart and you could feel him smirking.

“You have no idea how much I love you, need you” his sensual voice whispered against your lips. He gave you one last deep kiss before he lowered his head down and kissed trails down to where you needed him the most.

You kissed your inner thigh till he reached your sweet cunt. He kissed it once, twice, before he gave it a good lick. You moaned at his moment.

He snickered teasingly as he pushed his tongue inside your spongy walls. He moaned loudly at your taste.

“Archons, you tasted heavenly” he sighed in between licks. His thumb found your clit which he stroked and rubbed skilfully.

You could feel the knot in your lower abdomen getting closer and closer to snapping. Before you knew it you came all over the beautiful face of the man between your thighs.

In your blissful trance you were completely unaware of the documents on his nightstand that read the reports of your future disappearance.

Itto

The horns of the oni was hard and cool underneath your hold. As you rubbed the base the large oni groaned in pleasure. He had you on his face in a tight hold as he ravaged your cunt with such hunger only an oni could posses. As his tongue swirled over your clit in a slow harsh manner, your dread upon seeing him tear the men who had backed you in an alley, in half slowly disappeared.

Your chest heaved as you tightened your hold on his horn which egged him on further. His movements speed up and it didn’t take long before you saw stars. You slumped forwards, but his strong large hands kept you upright.

“I love you so, so much” he murmured against your thigh.

Kaeya

The blue haired captain had without no doubt murdered the annoying tavern patrons in cold blood. Despite that, you felt safe in his arms as he pleasured your cunt with his slivered tongue. His lone eye glanced up at you with a hooded lid which sent a warm jolt down in your cunt.

He was as skilled with his tongue when it came to pleasuring you as he was at whispering you lies that fuelled your dependence on him.

He held you in a tight embrace as you came down form your high. His honeyed voice whisper sweet nothings into your ears and you felt safe in his arms.

Kaveh

Blond locks tickled your thighs as the architect lapped at your cunt. He had been extremely stressed and panicked when he came home to your shared home. He had admitted that he was afraid of someone better coming to whisk you away. You were the only thing that kept him sane. You had stroked his hair reassuringly and told him you would never leave him. Before you both knew it you had ended up in to sofa, with him nestled between your thighs.

You pulled at his soft locks which earned you a grown which reverberated against your cunt. You threw your head back against the cushion. Kaveh had always put your pleasure before his and he had always had a talented for making you feel better than anyone else could.

With a swirl of your clit and thorough the lapping of his wet muscle you came so heard you saw stars. You thought that he must be a gift sent by the gods beyond the sky as he licked up your excessive juices with loud moans.

He leaned over you as he started lovingly into your eyes. “You are never allowed to leave me, ever” he kissed you passionately. His grip on your shoulders was hard as if he was afraid you would run away.

Kazuha

The white haired samurai had always intrigued you. He was a wise man with a connection to nature you could only hope to fully understand. He was so so kind and gentle towards you, yet you had just witnessed him slashing down a group of drunken sailors who had gotten a little too friendly with you. His snowy haired had been stained red as he pulled you into a tight embrace, relived you were okay. You were shaken up by the sight you had just seen before you and he had kissed your face as he had whispered reassuring words. Every word he utters from his pale lips felt like a warm blanket. They always seemed to calm you.

You had helped him wash his hair and as his hair grew more and more white, his desire for you became more and more visible. You had pulled him into a kiss with led to you being laid out on the soft sheepskin rug in the middle of the bathroom.

His tongue wasn’t only good at uttering poetic words, but it was also extremely skilled in the art of pleasure. He ate you out gentle and sensual with his hands gripping your thighs. Every time the started close do to you being so lost in please, he pushed them open firmly. His red eyes held your gaze through the many orgasms he drew out of you. You had now completely forgotten all about the sounds of Kazuha’s katana slashing through the throats of the sailors.

Kinich

The ancient name bearer was a honest man. He believed in getting straight to the point and he rarely kept secrets. Hence why he told you quite early on after he had realised his feelings, what he felt for you. You had been foolish in believing it was just a normal crush and not an endless abyss of love and obsession which had scared his little dragon companion.

You had invited the hazel eyed young man into your home, without knowing that day would be your last day of freedom. After his visited, he would bring you home with him.

You laid spread out onto your bed with the drakes haired man planted between your legs. His tongue hungrily ate you out and he swallowed as much slick he possible could. You whispered a soft “I love you” which made him completely lose his composure.

Lyney

White doves, flashy card tricks and well thought out magic performances became a part of your daily life after you accepted Lyney’s love. His feline eyes never left your form and his hand was always near you. He sneered passive aggressive threats at everyone who dared getting close to you. It had starting to get exhausting calming down your possessive lover. Luckily you had come up with a solution.

Burying his head into your cunt had surprisingly calming effects on the magician. He moaned at your sweet taste as his pale lilac eyes fell shut. His tongue was as talented as his fingers and brought you to orgasm after orgasm. You had started to wonder if he actually possessed magical powers after he brought you to your fourth orgasm that night.

Unbeknownst to you, was that the cunning magician had purposely lashed out more than normal at the travelling market you two had visited in order to be granted access between your legs. It was a grand feast for him and a pleasurable act for you, so it was a win win for both parties, wouldn’t you agree?

Neuvillette

The dragon had laid you down on the plush bed. Your skin flat against the silk sheets. His hold on you were gentle, but possessive. Despite his perfectly crafted façade he was only a dragon, and dragons did not ever want to share their treasures. Seeing you surrounded by so many who wanted to congratulate you on your marriage shouldn’t have bothered him, but it did. He had clenched his jaw and dragged you upstairs to his private quarters.

His tongue was skilled and held an authority which made you blush. His pale fingers joined his tongue and brought you to a pleasure you knew you would never find with another man. You let yourself lose control of your body and gave your entire being to the awaiting dragon.

Ororon

The dark haired man was a desperate man. He clung to you as if you were his lifeline and for all you knew, maybe you were. His mismatched eyes held an obsession that ran deeper than the well that was outside his home.

He kissed your lower lips sloppily, but with such passion the poets of Mondstadt could never hope to achieve. He whimpered at the sweet taste of you and his kisses deepened. His lips parted from your sweet cunt and shifted to your inner thigh were he sunk his fangs into. You hissed as he sucked a purple hickey onto your sensitive.

“I should mark you up so no one gets any funny ideas about who you belong to” his sweet voice drowning out any other thoughts and filling them all with him.

Pantalone

Ringed fingers stroked the inside of your thighs as the dark haired Harbinger held your thighs. His pretty lips curled up into a smile that made your cheeks redden. He laughed at your embraced appearance. “Aren’t you the sweetest?” he purred as he kissed the inner of your thighs slowly, teasingly.

When his lips finally reached you were you wanted it the most you couldn’t help the small sounds that escaped your lips. The sounds only pushed him further on as he quickly and suddenly plunged his tongue deep inside. He moved his tongue skilfully as one of his hands found your clit which he rubbed gently.

The ring on your finger which symbolised the eternal binding you had to him felt like a part of you as you came undone on the silver tongue of the banker. It was as if your distaste of the marriage had never happened at all.

Pierro

The director of the Harbingers was a cold and collected man, but when it came to you he was different. The coldness thawed and was replaced with a warmth that lulled your senses. His large hands moved in precision that came with the many years he had lived. The marriage he had forced upon you didn’t seem as bad as you laid in the bed of his elegantly decorated bedroom with relics he had collected throughout the years.

His right hand held onto your thigh as the other held onto your and. Your hands intertwined. On of your legs were popped up on his shoulder as his tongue worked inside your tight hole. He was rather quiet save for a few grunt here and there, but it was obvious he enjoyed himself greatly.

As you came you tightened your hold on his hand and he kissed your thigh gently in a sign of his undying love.

Sethos

The tent was cramped, but with a miracle he had made it cozy. Blankets were covering the ground followed by pillows. Sethos was pressed between your thighs as he worshipped your cunt like it was an ancient goddess. His wild locks had fallen down his shoulders and framed his beautiful face. His gemstone like eyes found yours as he continued to please you with his tongue.

You could tell he was relieved to find you unharmed after the encounter with the bandits. You hadn’t dared to ask what he did to them afterwards, but you decided it was best to ignore it. You knew he would never hurt you, but you couldn’t help but feel bad for the bandits that had the misfortune to encounter the clever young man.

Thoma

The blond housekeeper had always been so very gentle and careful when it came to you. It made you wonder if he was scared you would break if he applied a little more pressure. Tonight however was different.

His hands dug into your skin as his tongue worked you up with fast and harsh movements. You couldn’t hold back the soft moans that fell from your lips. You closed your eyes as he ate you out.

His jealousy was evident in his tight hold. He had been seething through his usually calm and friendly expression. He couldn’t stand seeing other men lay their slimy hands on someone who belonged to him. Who knew what they would do to you?

Tighnari

Soft ears flicked as a deep groan sounded from deep within the chest of the forests watcher. His was eating you with carnal desire that had first surprised you. His arms snaked around your waist in a protective manner.

Tighnari had always been extremely overprotective for as long as you had known him. You had after a time, welcomed that side of him after you realised he only meant you well. His company was all you needed and you had started to forget how it was being with your friends.

A groan left his lips as he lapped up your release with a hunger fever. You let your fingers run along his ear which earned you a strangled moan. His hazel eyes gazed up into yours which such love. Why seek freedom when you had the sweetest lover?

Venti

The playful bard was happily lapping at your wet cunt. His fingers gently caressed your skin. His nose pushed against your clit as he angled his head in order to reach deeper into you.

Venti was a firm believer in freedom, and freedom he had given you. It had surprised you at first how a man with so deep feelings for you at the point you could envision him creeping into the cavity of your chest in order to be closer to you, letting you roam freely within the city. He had let you do as you wished, except talking to other men alone. Whenever a male counterpart approached you, his green eyes filled with rage was he stepped in and dragged you away.

Wanderer/ Scaramouche

Cold breath fanned over your lower half as he bent his face down. His beautiful face ethereal in the moonlight as his eyes found yours. Love and desperation swirled in the violets.

He swirled his tongue around your clit which made you gasp. His cold hand intertwined with yours in a gentle, but firm hold. He had always had the need to know where you were at all times and when you weren’t within his reach he became irritable and lashed out at anyone who dared to talk to him. You had long suspected that there was more to him than what he had told you. One thing was sure, his love for you ran deeper than the roots of the giants trees in the rainforest.

He ate you out with such emotion you were taken aback. The usual snarky man was now glossy in the eyes as his eyes raked across your face.

The moonlight cast long shadows over the bedroom as you came. At that very moment you didn’t care about how he didn’t want you to spend time with your friends. For was it really that bad to only be with him? Was it really that bad to be with the man you love?

Wriothesley

Strong hands held your hips in place as his face burrowed into your crotch. A few groans escaped his lips as his tongue works up your slit. His nose against your clit. Your eyes started up into the ceiling as you moaned. The Duke had had a bad day and he had wanted nothing more than to burrow his head between your thighs and eat you out for hours.

It had become an everyday occurrence with him nestled nicely between your thighs. You had long since stopped complaining about not being able to see the sun that hung high above the blue Fontainian waters.

“You are such a good girl, [Name]. Let me take care of you” his chin was glimmering with slick. His tongue swept over his chin in a hum. “You’re gonna be safe here. I’m glad you finally realise such” he kissed your inner thigh before he dove back in. What he said was true. You were going to be happy with him down in the Fortress.

Xiao

Golden predatory eyes held your gaze as the long fingers of the adeptus plugged into your cunt. The slick sounds filling the room accompanied by your uneven breathing. His mouth locked around your clit as he gave it a hard suck which sent shivers down your spine. Xiao was a man of few words, but that didn’t bother you. He had his own ways of showing you his love.

His ravenous tongue accompanied his fingers as he began his feast. The bedroom at his private quarters at the inn was dimly lit. A lone candle was burning on the nightstand. Your gaze wandered to the open window which overlooked the marsh and the land that stretched beyond. You longed for your freedom, but you didn’t want to part from the adeptus you loved so dearly. Maybe one day you two would traverse the world beyond the surrounding land of the inn.

Zhongli

Strong warm hands pinned you down as soft lips kissed down to your cunt. His hauntingly beautiful eyes met yours as he gently bit down onto your skin. His sharp teeth almost breaking the skin, but he parted before it started to hurt. He had time after time showed you he knew both you and your body better than everyone else.

The contract that laid neatly on the dark wooden nightstand was temporarily forgotten as he worked your through your nth orgasm for the night. His long silky brown hair fell over his shoulders as he tipped your head up into a deep kiss. His tongue invited yours to a dance of pleasure and love. He parted with your lips after a moment that felt like an eternity.

“I will make you happy for eternity. Just sign the contract and I will take care of everything else” his deep voice reverberated through his broad chest.

You nodded, oblivious to what would happen to you when you signed your name onto the golden paper. Your faith was in his hands, but he promised he would take care of you. You were his future wife after all.

Translation

Norwegian → English

“Jeg elsker deg” = “I love you”

“Min kjære” = “My dear”

[galahadwilder]

I think the brilliance of Ricky September is not just to show that Lindy Pepper-Bean has no empathy. Ricky September’s role in “Dot and Bubble” isn’t just to die, or to show that not everyone in their society is terrible.

Ricky September is the Doctor.

He’s a handsome, flamboyant weirdo who drops out of the sky to save the female lead who is a stranger to him because he’s noticed she’s in trouble.

He’s confident, more confident than makes any sense for his situation; he’s observant, investigating and picking apart the actions of the mantraps the way the Doctor would. He knows history better than anyone around him (though for different reasons than the Doctor would). He’s clever enough to hack a computer that Lindy had just failed to even turn on—sonic screwdriver much?—and then immediately, well. What’s rule #1? The Doctor lies.

The subsequent scene of him trying to open the door? He’s completely undaunted by the unnecessarily complicated code, just fascinated, as he gets down to business. The scene is practically straight out of “42,” the one with the living star and the complicated locks, and he and the Doctor both have the same reaction to the puzzle.

Like the Doctor, Ricky disdains the vapid and self-obsessed society he is part of (though Gallifrey and Finetime are very different), and he grabs the first chance he can to find a companion and run the hell away. He uses a fake name, and his real name is such a terrible secret that its revealing has disastrous consequences.

Hell, watch the mannerisms. He and Gatwa even move their hands the same when they’re in “performance mode.”

In short, Ricky breaks every single standard set by Finetime the exact way the Doctor does, and what does Lindy do? She idolizes him. She treats him like he’s an unparalleled genius, the greatest moment of her life.

If we leave aside the murder for the moment, Ricky’s purpose isn’t just to say, “look how sociopathic Lindy and the rest of Finetime is.” Ricky is there to say, “this is how Finetime would’ve treated the Doctor if he were white.”

[azrielwingspan]

A TACTICAL PLOY (AZRIEL X READER)

Summary : You knew Azriel had been pining after you for a very long time but you NEEDED him to make a move. So in order to give him a little push, you made use of a very tactical weapon : Jealousy.

Warnings: None

Blue eyes. Green eyes. Brown eyes. Eyes trailing you across the room, whispering across your skin , feeding your ego. Yet your eyes sought out the hazel ones.

Shades of gold, green and brown that set a trail of fire across your skin. Eyes that made you feel. Eyes that made you want. The gold pierced through your skin, peering into your heart and soul. The green trailed across your flesh, making you yearn for things that plagued your dreams. The brown spoke of a future if you only dared to take that first step.

Ah, that was the obstacle. The first step.

You had one simple rule when it came to males.

You never chase.

So as you walked through the room, your blasé attitude making you all the more enticing, your heart betrayed you ignoring the rules your mind had set. It searched for him, desperate for the hit of ecstasy he would induce.

Once it found him, the decadent hit of euphoria rushed through your veins, leaving behind a crack in your mask. It was intentional. Every emotion, every 'slip' of the tongue, every word, every glance. He was the spymaster after all.

He glanced your way and tipped his chin in greeting.

You raised your glass, taking a sip and watched his eyes trail over you.

Longing, desiring and denying.

That was all he ever did. Denied himself of you.

You would be lying if you said you understood why he did what he did. You would be lying if you said it didn't make you doubt yourself. However, you knew for a fact he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

You would've been dense to not notice the heat in his eyes, the glances filled with unfulfilled promises, the softness behind his words and the kindness in his actions. It drove you mad some days. Drove you to the brink of breaking your rule.

You never chase.

You yearned to be wanted. You yearned to be fought for. You yearned to be loved, cherished and indulged in. So you had waited... and waited...and waited. A small part of you believed you were foolish enough to keep waiting for however long it took. Yet as a female, you had your wants and needs. There was only so much patience you could exhibit and you were currently running out of it.

Therefore, you decided to give him a little...push.

Tactic I : The art of heedlessness

You shook hands, kissed cheeks, hugged bodies , all the while never looking his way. Of course, you were aware of his presence acutely. It made it all the more fun. At one point, you had walked right past him talking animatedly with one of the guests. His scent had overtaken your senses and you had to physically stop yourself from responding to it.

His eyes, trailing you, lighting your skin on fire , the tension gasoline.

Watch me. Come to me. Talk to me.

Your eyes were fixed on your companions, their words a cacophony compared to the conversations the both of you had shared. The wine was making you bolder, impatient and lulling you into thoughts you kept at bay.

Tactic II : The art of flirtation

A subtle tuck of a strand of hair behind your ear, a soft tilt of your lips, a soft huff of laughter, an inch closer. You looked away from the male in front of you to glance down at your wine. Empty.

How many more glasses would you have to guzzle down before the spymaster grew some balls?

You pulled your hair to one side, the heat starting to stick to your neck. Looking up once again, you noticed that the males gaze in front of you was transfixed to the slope of your neck. Wonderful. Time to leave.

"Well, I should go." Turning around before he could respond, you walked away in the search of more wine.

Tactic III : The art of impelling

You didn't meet his gaze as a group of you stood near the balcony overlooking the Sidra. The flow of the water reached your ears, the sound a welcome distraction. Closing your eyes momentarily, you let the memory of the coolness of the water wash over you.

"I'll be heading home now." you spoke into the night, your companions voicing out their interjections. A small smirk and shake of the head later, you walked towards the exit not bothering to say goodbye to the male with no balls.

A few kisses on the cheek, soft smiles and polite goodbyes on the way to the exit.

"I'll drop you home." the voice swept over your skin like a shadow trailing its fingers across your skin.

"I'll be alright." you said, head turned over your shoulder.

There he was, finally...

"I insist." No arguments. That was final.

"If you insist." you say, wrapping your scarf around yourself.

Silence was the third being accompanying the both of you. You let it play its part, choosing not to say anything. It was entertaining, watching him struggle to say something...anything. He was doing a good job at hiding his emotions but he could never truly hide them from you.

After watching him suffer for a few more minutes , you say "If you're done struggling, we could teach you a thing or two on how to talk to females."

His face turned red, as his shadows skittered around.

Your house had come into view, the star lit night casting soft shadows around the both of you.

"Well.." you turned to him and said watching him under the moonlight.

"Well..." he replied watching you through his shadows.

A pang of disappointment rushed through you as you took a step back from him. "Good night then."

"Good night." he said, his voice dropping.

Giving him a final nod, you turned around not wanting him to see the look of disappointment on your face. You would never be desperate...no matter who it was.

Legs feeling like lead, you forced yourself to take that first step towards your house mustering all the will power within you. Just as you had lifted your leg off of the ground, a shadow wrapped around your wrist and tugged you backwards. A yelp made its way out of you as warm hands caught you, goosebumps making their way across your skin.

For a moment only two sets of heavy breaths could be heard. Maybe he could hear your heart thudding out of your chest. You lost track of what happened in the next few seconds as the shadowsinger pulled you into a ravishing kiss, igniting your body and jumbling your thoughts.

Lips coaxed your open, tongue sliding in to give you a taste of whisky and something darker and heady. Hands travelled down your sides, stopping at your hips only to give them a gentle squeeze. Your hands were on a path of their own, travelling into his hair and giving it a gentle tug.

All your senses were attenuated to the male in front of you. You were lost in another universe, a universe of want and need.

Suddenly, he pulls back to look down at you, his eyes wild and predatory. "I couldn't put into words what I felt..."

You brushed your lips against his, eyes fluttering shut. "Then show me...."

You could feel his lips split into a devilish grin before the both of you were engulfed by shadows.

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 03

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: 18+, smut. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Mentions of masturbation in this chapter and Reader has some dirty fantasies about our favorite hockey player. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 10 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

You are at the Tigers' next home game, too, watching and cheering from the stands, having fun just like the last time, but now you also understand the rules, thanks to your private lesson with Sukuna. You still grin anytime you look at the hockey rules written in his elegant handwriting and the little drawing with the tattooed stick figure.

The Tigers win, thanks to Sukuna scoring several goals. You congratulate him after the game, when he once again skates next to you as you walk past the plexiglass. And Sukuna smiles one of his rare dazzling smiles at you, which makes you feel giddy for the rest of the evening.

But Sukuna isn't just on your mind when you are at one of his hockey games. You catch yourself looking for pink hair anytime you walk over campus. And more often than not, when you eventually spot Sukuna, he is somehow already looking at you with his boyish grin and a raised eyebrow, as if he was looking for you, too.

You run into him in front of the dining hall several times, and he tells you to join him, leading you to his table again. You are surprised to realize that, apparently, it's a regular occurrence for Sukuna to sit on his own, or if someone is with him, it is only his brother or the team's kit manager, Uraume, who somehow seems to be on friendly terms with Sukuna, too.

It makes you wonder because you always assumed the star player would be surrounded by his teammates or admirers, basking in their attention.

It's one of those days when it's only Sukuna and you who have lunch together, when you blurt out,

"Why are you always sitting here alone or with your brother or Uraume? Why don't you sit with your teammates?"

Sukuna huffs at your question,

"Most of my teammates bore me to death or piss me off. They know better than to sit with me. In the beginning, they tried to tell me that the team always shares a table, but I told them to fuck off and not get on my dick. They got the message. They do as I say on the ice, and they also do what I say off the ice."

You don't doubt it. Anyone who seeks a fight with Sukuna must be crazy. This charming version of Sukuna you meet isn't the version he is for most people. He can be an asshole, and you don't doubt for a second that he doesn't hesitate to throw some punches off the ice too.

But the bad boy doesn't seem that bad when he has lunch with you. Sukuna is actually a charming lunch companion and full of surprises.

You put the novel you are currently reading on the table, and Sukuna jerks his chin toward the book, commenting on one of the characters in a way that tells you he knows what he is talking about. You look at him curiously,

"You read it, too?"

Sukuna leans back in his chair, one arm casually resting on the backrest of the chair next to him, his thighs spread under the table, his long legs brushing against yours, and a smug grin spreading over his handsome face.

"Yeah. Believe it or not, princess. I read a lot in my free time and for my classes, too."

And you suddenly realize that you have no idea what Sukuna's major is. You always assumed it was something obvious, like kinesiology or sports management. But his comment about reading makes you curious.

"What is your major, Sukuna?"

You didn't think it was possible, but Sukuna seems to look even more smug when he answers you,

"History."

Your hand that was bringing your spoon to your mouth stops mid-air, and you blink at Sukuna.

"History? Okay, wow, I didn't expect that."

Sukuna's grin is shit-eating by now, his eyes sparkling in amusement.

"Why not? You think I'm some dumb jock? I am offended, princess."

"No... I.. I don't know. I guess I pictured history majors differently. And isn't it kind of boring? All that old stuff?"

Sukuna raises an eyebrow at you,

"I analize past events to see what we can learn from them for modern times. It's about critical thinking and evaluating human actions. What is boring about that?"

"When you put it like that it doesn't sound so bad, I guess."

"Exactly. You are a creative writing major, right princess? You have all your fictional stories that you read or write yourself. They aren't boring to you, right? Now, I, on the other hand, have all those stories that actually happened. And many of them are first-class novel material. All that old stuff, as you call it, is very interesting. All the drama, the betrayal, the political intrigues."

You nod solemnly,

"Yeah, if I want to write a story set in the past I have to do research, too, to see how life worked at that time. How lucky that I have an expert to ask for help now!"

Sukuna grins at you,

"You're such a lucky girl indeed. But don't think I will just share my knowledge for free."

You give Sukuna a blank look,

"What? You gonna charge money for it?"

"Who said anything about money?"

He grins teasingly at you and you roll your eyes, throwing your hands up as you grin back at Sukuna,

"So, what kind of payment do you have in mind?"

"Maybe I am talking about this," Sukuna gestures to the table and your plate, "Keeping me company for lunch, coming to my games, being an enthusiastic enjoyer of my cigarette smoke. By the way, I need one after we are finished eating. You coming with me, princess? Consider it a payment in advance for gaining acess to all the amazing history knowledge in my mind."

Sukuna winks at you, and you can't help but laugh.

"Okay, I think that sounds fair."

You're on your way to your dorm after class when you hear your name getting called by a very familiar, smooth, low voice. You turn around, only to almost drop the stack of books you are carrying in your arms.

Sukuna is jogging toward you, apparently going for a run as part of his daily workout, and there is definitely too much of his tattooed skin and buff muscles on display.

You stare at him, probably looking like a complete fool, as your eyes trail over Sukuna's tall, muscular figure. He's only wearing a black tank top and red shorts with the Tigers logo. It's far too little clothing to cover up how gorgeous he is.

You gulp hard. Sukuna looks so sexy, with his muscles all buff, the veins on his arms standing out from his workout, and a thin layer of glistening sweat coating his tattooed skin and muscles.

He asks you how your day was, and you manage to give him an answer that sounds halfway sane while your gaze travels up and down his body.

You don't know where to look. There is just so much of him, and it makes you feel so flustered! Sukuna makes you feel things you aren't ready to admit, but the fluttery feeling in your stomach grows more intense by the second.

Your heart jumps to your throat when you glimpse a pair of black bands peeking out from under Sukuna's shorts.

Oh my god. Does he have upper thigh tattoos?

You stare at those tempting black lines on Sukuna's muscular thighs a moment too long before you catch yourself, and your head quickly snaps up again, eyes wide, looking at Sukuna's face with an expression that does nothing to hide how affected you are by him and his stupid gorgeous body.

A cocky smirk spreads over Sukuna's tattooed face. The face of someone who knows exactly how sexy he is.

"Do you like my tattoos, princess?"

"Yeah, um... they look very cool," you manage to say, and before you can stop yourself, you add, "How many do you have in total?"

You silently curse yourself the moment the words have left your mouth because you know you just presented Sukuna with an open goal. And, of course, he doesn't even let a second go by before he grins at you with a devilish glint in his eyes, his voice dropping to a seductive timbre,

"I'll let you count them if you want."

You make a sound of complaint, but Sukuna's words send your pulse racing, and you are sure he knows it. You are saved from further embarrassment though by the beeping sound Sukuna's heart rate monitor makes to inform him something is off. He laughs softly and jerks his chin toward you,

"I have to keep going. See you at my game!"

And with that said, Sukuna runs past you, but not without reaching out to ruffle your hair, making you yell after him to stop ruining your hairstyle.

It's a busy weekend for you, with several deadlines for assignments and a birthday party in your dorm that you help organize, so you decide not to go to the hockey game.

You don't even think about it until Monday morning when you get practically cornered by a scowling Sukuna.

You turn around after getting some books from your locker only to gasp because Sukuna is standing in front of you, tall and buff, effectively blocking your way.

He takes a step closer, his tall, broad body blocking out the light and the other people in the hallway, making it seem like it is only you and him. One of his large tattooed hands comes to rest on your locker, right next to your face, and Sukuna leans down so he is on eye-level with you, stopping only centimeters from your face.

"I didn't see you at my game."

You hug the books you just got out of your locker to your chest as you tilt your head to smile nervously up at Sukuna.

"Yeah, I was too busy and couldn't make it."

Sukuna curls his lips, and you feel the need to shrug apologetically and add a soft,

"Sorry."

Sukuna sighs and straightens up again, running his hand through his pink hair, slicking it back while fixing you with a sulky look out of his beautiful maroon eyes. It almost looks like he is pouting.

"You know that's a problem, right, princess? We lost the game."

You blink up at him in slight alarm before you see the mischievous sparkle in Sukuna's maroon eyes and see the corners of his lips twitch.

And so you play along and stare at him with comically big eyes, pressing a hand to your mouth that is opened in a fake shocked expression.

"Oh no! Forgive me, Your Majesty, King Sukuna The First! I wasn't aware that my absence would lead to your men's defeat on the icy battlefield."

Sukuna chuckles softly and leans closer again, both of his large hands placed on each side of your head now, his voice a low whisper, as if he is sharing a secret with you,

"I like it when you are there to watch me play. You are my personal lucky charm, princess. We haven't lost a single game since you started coming. But we lost this Saturday. Call me superstitious, but as a responsible player, I must demand your presence at all future home games."

You look at his beautiful face, so close to you that you can make out every little detail of the second pair of eyes tattooed into his skin. You feel your heart beat faster and a smile spreads over your face as you tilt your head, coming even closer to Sukuna,

"Well, I guess then it's my duty to come to every game. I promise I will take my job as your personal lucky charm seriously from now on."

Your voice has also dropped to a flirty whisper, and your pulse flutters wildly with Sukuna standing so close to you. You can feel the warmth radiating off his tall, muscular body. Can smell his sexy cologne again and a hint of cherry, maybe from his hair gel.

Your gaze meets Sukuna's maroon eyes. A lazy but contented smile spreads over his beautiful face. His voice is still barely a whisper, low and seductive, almost a purr,

"Good girl. That's what I wanted to hear."

You can feel his warm breath on your cheek, and you instinctively feel your lashes flutter and tilt your head back even more, your lips parting slightly as if preparing for a kiss.

For a moment, the two of you are locked in your own little universe, where it's only the star player and his lucky charm. Only Sukuna and you, so close to each other that you feel each other's body heat and your breaths brush over each other's lips.

So close.

You gaze deeply into each other's eyes, and Sukuna leans even closer. You think he is really going to kiss you. Your eyes close as your heart beats like crazy.

But a loud yell of "Sukuna! Coach is looking for you!" interrupts the moment, and both your and Sukuna's eyes fly wide open.

He pulls away, rolling his pretty eyes in annoyance as he yells over his broad shoulder at his teammate,

"And what the fuck is so important? I would have come to his office after class anyway! It's not my fucking fault that we lost!"

Sukuna's maroon eyes snap to yours again, and he huffs and grins, cupping your cheek with his large hand and brushing his thumb over your lower lip, adding in his typical velvety voice,

"Neither your fault, princess. Even though you should have really been in the arena. But you can double the good luck at the next game by cheering extra enthusiastically for me. Will you do that for me?"

You barely manage a nod and murmur a breathless "Okay," making your lips move against Sukuna's thumb, almost like a little kiss, before he pulls his hand away and grabs his backpack to sling it casually over his broad shoulder and wink at you one last time before he leaves to see his coach.

You let your head fall against the locker, hug your books tightly to your chest where your heart is beating like crazy, and stare dumbfounded after Sukuna's tall figure. Your knees feel weak, and there is heat pulsing between your thighs from all the sexual tension that was between you and Sukuna just seconds ago.

You let out a long breath and chuckle softly to yourself.

Sukuna's lucky charm, huh?

You like the sound of that.

You find yourself in the hockey arena sooner than expected. But not for a hockey game. One of the girls from your classic literature class is on the figure skater team, and she asked if you could meet her after her training to do the assignment you have together.

You thought you would leave again and go to the coffee shop to work there, but your assignment partner scrunches her face apologetically,

"I'm so sorry, but I can't leave yet. I have to stay here and wait for my teammate to give me the keys to the team room, but she is still in the back talking to our coach. But we can do the assignment here. We can just get comfy on the stands and work there. Is that okay with you?"

You tell her it's okay and follow her, letting her lead you to the otherwise completely empty stands. Just when you sit down, you hear several voices coming from the direction of the ice, and when you turn your head to look what's going on, you see the hockey team entering the rink now for their training. And, of course, there he is.

Sukuna.

He looks gorgeous as always, smiling broadly about something Yuuji said to him as he skates casually over the ice, his helmet still off and under his arm, unaware that you are here to watch him. He isn't yet wearing his usual hockey jersey but a tight, black, long-sleeved compression shirt and his shoulder pads. It looks sinful on him, accentuating every muscle on his gorgeous body. Even from this distance, you can count his abs.

He looks beautiful. Especially with that genuine smile lighting up his face as he laughs with his brother.

You stare at him, following his every move, while trying to listen to your assignment partner's ideas. But she stops mid-sentence, and when you take it as a clue to look at her, she is grinning at you like the Cheshire Cat.

"So, Sukuna, huh?"

She jerks her chin toward the hockey team down on the ice, and you shake your head quickly, making a dismissive hand gesture.

"No, it's not like that."

She raises a skeptical eyebrow but leaves it at that. For a few minutes, the two of you work on the assignment while you steal the occasional glance at the rink.

The problem with the hockey arena is that it is cold as the ninth circle of hell. You hug yourself and rub your arms, shuddering in the chilly air of the arena. You didn't think you would work on the assignment here, or you would have brought a jacket.

It's right then that you suddenly hear your name called in that familiar, sexy, low voice.

You turn your head, unable to stop the big grin from spreading over your face, as you see Sukuna leaning against the boards beneath your seats, touching the plexiglass that separates the rink from the stands, and looking up at you.

"Are you here to bring me luck during training, too? You really take your job seriously, princess. I approve of that eagerness."

You laugh, playing along and making a salute gesture,

"Of course. I am always on duty, sir!"

Your little salute gets messed up by how violently you tremble from the cold, though. Sukuna raises an eyebrow, and his eyes travel over your body, over the thin t-shirt you are wearing.

"You're not dressed for the job, though. What are you doing, freezing your pretty ass off?"

You laugh,

"I didn't know I would spend an hour in here."

Sukuna huffs, brushing a stray strand of pink hair out of his forehead,

"Wait a sec."

He pushes himself off the boards and casually skates to the other side of the ice. You see him grab something from the bench where his stuff is. And then he glides back over the ice toward you with his sexy smirk on his tattooed face and his white team hoodie in his hand.

The sight makes your stomach flutter. You grin from ear to ear as Sukuna skates over to you, stopping at the boards and grinning up at you.

"Come down here and put that on, princess! I don't want my good luck charm to get a cold!"

You chuckle as you hurry down the stairs to the boards. Sukuna throws his hoodie over the plexiglass, and you catch it and quickly slip into it.

A blissful sigh leaves your lips. Sukuna's hoodie is so soft and warm, and it smells just like him, making your stomach tingle when you smell his fresh, sexy, boyish scent mixed with cigarette smoke and cherries.

You smile gratefully at the star player, who can actually be pretty nice contrary to his bad boy reputaion.

"Thank you, Sukuna."

Sukuna stands there, resting his chin on the back of his hand on his hockey stick as his beautiful maroon eyes slowly wander over you. There is something in his eyes that you haven't seen in his gaze before, but you can't quite name it.

All you know is that Sukuna's gaze lingers a lot longer than necessary on your body, which is now clad in his hoodie. He looks happy somehow, pleased, but there is also something darker in his eyes, almost like some primal hunger.

It makes you lick your lips nervously, but then Sukuna seems to shake himself out of it, and he smirks at you again, just as cocky as always, flirty and sweet-talking like a champ,

"You're welcome, princess. Anything for my lucky charm."

He skates back to where his teammates are doing practice shots, joining them immediately in full hockey star mode.

You feel oddly light-headed from the encounter with Sukuna and the feeling of his warm, comfy hoodie on your body, and his sexy scent in your nose as you walk back to your classmate.

She looks at you with an amused expression on her face and a "see, I told you so" attitude written all over her face.

"Oh yeah, it's clearly not like that at all, huh?"

You leave the arena huddled comfortably into Sukuna's hoodie, your hands shoved deep into the soft front pocket, smiling at how the hoodie looks more like a dress on you because of the height difference between you and Sukuna. It's making your tummy flutter a bit to imagine him wearing it before he gave it to you. Almost like you get an indirect feel of his tall, strong body. You bite your lip and try to chase that thought away. This is dangerous territory.

But the thing is, even when you are back in your dorm, you can't bring yourself to take off Sukuna's hoodie.

It's far too comfy and warm, and so you just stay in it the rest of the evening while preparing dinner and working on your assignment. It also smells so good. You catch yourself bringing the soft fabric up to your nose several times to inhale the fresh and seductive scent that is Itadori Sukuna. Fresh cologne, cigarette smoke, and cherries.

You tell yourself you will take the hoodie off before bed. It will be too warm to sleep in it anyway. Yes, definitely, you will change into one of your usual T-shirts!

Just five more minutes.

In the end, you stay in Sukuna's hoodie. But it is a bad idea, as you soon realize when you lie in your bed, and your mind gets flooded with images of Sukuna's sexy grin and his gorgeous tattooed body. You feel a bit guilty when your hand slips into your panties while you are still wearing the hoodie that smells like Sukuna. You don't want to be into him like that!

But you can't stop yourself, even though it feels kind of wrong to give in to the sudden urge to push your panties down so you can feel Sukuna's hoodie brush over your wet pussy, soaking the soft fabric with your arousal as a needy moan falls from your lips.

You imagine Sukuna lying in his bed with a hand down his pants, too, while he thinks of you in his hoodie and nothing else. And that thought leads to an all too sexy fantasy of you riding Sukuna on his bed while you're wearing his hoodie, and his large hands slip under it and wrap around your waist. And he's smirking at you and calling you princess and his lucky charm while you bounce on his lap until you cum all over his gorgeous cock.

You curse yourself a little for whispering his name when you cum so hard that your vision goes black for a moment.

I would SQUEAL internally if Sukuna gave me his hoodie ❤️❤️ And being his personal lucky charm sounds like the best job ever to me! AAAHH he just drives me insane!

Thank you so much for all the love for this AU!! I hope you enjoyed Chapter 3, too. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet ❤️

In Chapter 4, Reader and Sukuna end up in the locker room together. Let's see what that leads to ;)

[smokesandsonatas]

Broke mc and the rich night raven college bois! Would they spoil the mc or would they let mc struggle, delighted in doing so 👀

+++ After a long time, I'm finally starting to answer requests. I tend to combine similar asks, I hope people don't mind.

OnlyCams (Twst version of OnlyFans) Reader x All NRC students and Rollo. Reader is implied to be female. Mentions of cleavage, lingerie, and implied sugar daddy stuff. Slightly NSFW. +++

Update: Part II

Your current financial situation, compounded by the need to eat proper meals, pushed you to find a side job. Crowley had cut your budget by more than half, citing Grim's damages—an accusation your companion vehemently denies—as the reason you're struggling to eat properly. It has reached the point where you only eat once a day to quickly pay off Grim's fees to the school. Your pride is too great to ask for help, and besides, you don’t consider them ‘close friends’—acquaintances from another world might be a more accurate term. You’re not particularly close to any of the boys, or rather, your schoolmates. They are just that: schoolmates.

You tried applying at Mostro Lounge but left quickly after your gut told you to. In a foreign world where monsters, beasts, mermen, and magic are the norm, your instincts are your only trusted guide.

The rules of this world shouldn’t and wouldn’t apply to you the same way, right? Whatever society imposes on them is not applicable to you. In your world, this type of job is common, though frowned upon, but it pays well.

You refuse to eat cobwebs from the dusty ceiling of the ramshackle dorm.

In your mind, you plead for privacy as you smile at the ghosts, asking them not to bother you while you rest—just as Grim has been doing for the past two hours. Fortunately, the ghosts heed your request.

You let out a soft hum as you change into a flimsy outfit: a cute two-piece lingerie with bows in the middle, and bat earrings from one of your highest-tier subscribers. While you only show skin rather than specific body parts, your effort in producing high-quality content led to you being featured as one of the emerging models more than two weeks ago. Now, you are close to paying off Grim's full debt, and you have saved enough to afford full meals twice a day with snacks in between. As a result, Grim is much more obedient, promising to be careful as long as you continue to feed him, of course.

You have a keen eye for beauty, after all.

You count silently as you pose for the camera—an alluring sight, sensual in your pose, a work of art in every sense.

3...2...1

Snap!

+++++

He first heard the rumors from the members of the Heartslabyul dorm. As the dorm leader, Riddle is keen to know what currently preoccupies the thoughts of his card soldiers. That’s how Riddle found you—by threatening to cut off the head of one of the freshmen, who nearly pissed himself as Riddle stood seething. That incident occurred a week ago. Riddle is never one to indulge in such perverse photos, despite what his highest-tier subscription might suggest. No, he is a gentleman after all. His favorite photo is the one where you’re wearing a red silk robe that clings to your figure, with a book pressed between your two mounds. He may or may not have specifically requested that photo, and he paid you generously for your work.

Of course, he knows you have one! Cater is the self-proclaimed king of Magicam and social media, after all. The OnlyCams platform is an emerging phenomenon that has taken Magicam by storm. You just happened to get on it at the right time, and Cater couldn’t help but respect the hustle. You’re now an emerging content creator, and his favorite photos of you are saved on his phone—essentially everything. Oh, what’s that? He can’t do it because it’s prohibited? Of course, Cater can! He has been your faithful subscriber from day one.

Oh sevens, when Trey saw your sweet bakery-themed photos he will not deny that he relieved himself more than once. You keep on releasing new mouth-salivating content every other day but that still stands as his favourite. He especially loved the one where you put whipped cream to cover your nipples. What? Trey is a man and therefore susceptible to temptation.

He will never tell you that he knows, but he has been there since your first post. Ace had been a loyal supporter even from the start, he even took it upon himself to try a few gigs to support you, you know? That's what friends do right? Just don't blame Ace when he uses your pictures to masturbate as he takes his baths.

Deuce cannot believe it, but he cannot take his eyes off it either. Deuce also knows but respects you enough to not bring it up. Why didn't you told him you have perfect thighs? He is pouty but as he works his hands below his pants he cannot help but bite his lower lip. This is the third time he masturbated on your picture. His favorite? A picture of you laying down as you wink cheekily in a 'Japanese' uniform, the short skirt hiked over your thighs. The caption says it reminds you of your place back home, Deuce briefly wonders if you would let him visit to see that uniform personally on you.

....

Leona doesn't give a fuck, his thick cock out as he works his hands up and down his shaft lazily in his bedroom. You've been a very cheeky herbivore. Ha! Leona didn't realize how much of an ass beastman he is not until he raised an eyebrow as he smirked when he realized all his favorites are the ones where it focuses on your ass. He likes it when you squeeze them. Leona wonders if he should send you a message for a special offer, the price won't matter to him. What? Breeding season will come soon for the beastman, he will have no other partner than you.

He admires your skills to hustle, Ruggie could not help but sneakily have his account opened through Leona's bank, it's not like the rich prince will notice it billing him anyway. Once he opens your highest-tier content, Ruggie now understands why. You're a complete pro at this! He is not sure if this is your previous job in your world or if this is your first time doing it at all, but those thoughts have escaped him when he fucks himself into his hand in the picture of you spreading your ass cheeks.

Jack had heard about the site from the other track team members, out of curiosity, he opened an account and was surprised when he got your account in his recommendation. He will support you of course! That's what friends do! He will try to contain himself when he unlocks your content of you wearing skimpy track shorts but it's impossible as he felt himself tightening through his pajamas.

...

Azul had never heard of this website before, but dear sevens! The possibilities are endless. Pleasure work is not unheard of in the Coral Sea, but he now knows they do it differently on land. It's called porn, as far as he remembers when he picked up the word from one of the guidebooks in the Sage Island. When he realizes at first glance that you will be one of its top creators—the money will come pouring right in! Azul chuckles to himself, restraining his excitement as he bites his lower lip while staring at your latest update. The thought of being your manager crosses his mind as he gazes at your picture of spreading your legs open, the flimsy thong left so little to the imagination. Will you let him manage you? Will you allow him to experience what he sees? Perhaps you’ll seek out a partner for a collaboration, and Azul will be eager to present himself. Of course, he will refrain from showing his face—he still has a reputation to uphold—but he cannot deny that you are his guilty pleasure in this realm.

Floyd is addicted to your content! How dare Shrimpy make him so excited every day? For almost two weeks now, Floyd has been happily completing tasks assigned to him at the Mostro Lounge. Sure, he pockets some tips for himself, but fear not! Floyd thinks he deserves it. Besides, they ought to reward him for his extra hard work. Floyd giggles when he sees a notification that you've posted a new update. One of these days, he will come to see you personally—only if Jade isn’t holding him back. After all, if left unchecked, Floyd just might take you deep into the coral sea.

Jade, on the other hand, is constantly watching you—or so you thought. At lunch, in the hallway, even in the library when you’re trying to study with Grim. You can feel his eyes piercing through your soul, but for some reason, you can never quite meet his gaze. Or maybe, you’re trying to catch him staring at you just to justify your suspicions, but when you look, he’s not. Unbeknownst to you, Jade is just as giddy as his twin brother. Don’t blame him! He adores the picture where you’re actually wearing the seashell necklace he sent through your fanmail. Oh, but wait—one moment it dawns on him that others, who pay to see your pictures, will also see that picture. Hmm… that doesn’t sit right with the eel. Jade wonders if he can offer you something more. Of course, he can! The only problem is... will you accept Jade Leech's offer? Hmm…

...

Jamil heard from Kalim that you have a business they need to support, Jamil didn't even complain when all Kalim sent was a link. He was hooked since then. He is a silent supporter but will be one of the first to view and like your posts. You wore red lingerie once, and Jamil can't even stop himself from coming from that. A good stress reliever after a tiring day's work. The veins in his hands practically popping, as he grip his cock, imagining you in front of him instead.

Kalim will support you of course! Although he is quite confused why you won't accept the money he's sending you. It's just a half a million madol. It's not a dowry!... At least not close to the actual amount he will give you anyway. He will support you! He even told Jamil about you! Doesn't he get jealous? A little.. but the feeling of an overwhelming bragging right that other people thirst over you makes Kalim so proud. He chose a good future wife after all!

...

To Vil, your content is vile... but undeniably a work of art. Hmph, no wonder you're one of its top creators. You don't merely post for lust; you post for aesthetics as well. You have a keen eye for taking good photos, that much he will admit. His subscription to you he considers a form of appreciation for beauty. He notes the way you do your makeup, the arch of your back, the way your lipstick complements your complexion... Fine, Vil will hate to admit it, but your content is something he looks forward to seeing as he relaxes after a hectic day—just him alone in a fancy room with a spa-like scent filling the air. Hmmm, he wonders if he should invite you someday to a hotel soirée with him. Vil appreciates the attention to detail in your work, and he finds himself compelled to support you further. Occasionally, he sends additional tips usually a thousand madol—small tokens of his admiration for your craftsmanship. He justifies it as an investment in art, a reward for the way you meticulously craft each image and video. After all, beauty like yours deserves to be recognized, encouraged even.

He will always blush when he's near you! Epel can't help it. He may or may not have teenage fantasies about you with him carrying you bridal style as his muscles bulge from his shirt. Although Epel came from a... Traditional family perse, he does appreciate how... sexy you look! His favorite is when you're wearing silk nightwear that delves low on your cleavage.

Ah, Rook. Forever the hunter of beauty. When he heard of your content, he immediately subscribed to the highest tier! He is now only waiting for you to accept personal requests because Rook definitely has a lot of ideas in his mind. It involves you and him, in a forest, being one with yourselves and with nature! Oui! He chuckles as he palms his crotch through his pants. Rook knows that you will post something new in a few minutes, and he is right! Oh, mi amor, Rook swooned as he saw your bat earrings from the new update and the matching pink bows lingerie. The lingerie he ordered is yet to be sent to you! But they're on their way. Will you be mad at Rook if he sends an arrow with a declaration of admiration through your window right after he pleasures himself? Rook hopes you will know how much the hunter loves and appreciates your beauty!

....

Idia may or may not be one of the software developers behind OnlyCams. He was absolutely stunned when he saw that you joined the site! His hair burned a hot red with pink tips as he scrolled through your draft photos. It gives him a twisted sense of satisfaction to know about posts that others haven’t seen yet. Is it illegal to pry... or, erm, stalk the OnlyCams models? Of course, he knows that. But Idia has convinced himself that he should act as your moderator anyway—even without you knowing. Unfortunately, there are a lot of comments and private messages that are downright disgusting to read, so Idia takes it upon himself to remove them for you! The maid outfit and cat ears he sent through your fanmail should arrive in just a few days. Idia can’t wait to see you in them! He imagines how perfect you’ll look, and his mind races with ideas for what else he could send your way. Maybe a little something extra, just to make sure you know how much he’s been thinking about you.

...

At first, Malleus does not know what to feel. Initially, there is confusion—are you whoring yourself out? But Lilia explains that people can only look at you, not physically touch you. However, when it dawns on Malleus that others can see your intimate, seductive photos, flames flicker along his fangs. He carries the pride of a king, and it does not sit well with him that others can see what he considers his. Still, Malleus can't help but growl. Your pictures should have been for his eyes only. He frowns, deciding that even Lilia should not see them. You don’t know this, but you’re already his. In his mind, you belong to him. Annoyance courses through his veins—this is the second time he’s broken a phone today. As night falls, Malleus finds himself brooding in the solitude of his tower. The thought of you, your image laid bare for others, festers in his mind. He clenches his fist, struggling with a mix of possessiveness and anger. Lilia suggested he could unsubscribe from you, but Malleus ignores him. Instead, he contemplates offering you wealth and power—if you choose to be by his side, of course. As if you have a choice anyway.

Sebek is embarrassed, yet hypocritical, as he can't help but masturbate to your seductive content. Part of him hates it, but the other part loves it. How dare you, human! He huffs as he angrily shuts off his phone, only to turn it back on moments later, unable to resist the allure of your pictures. On one hand, he feels disgusted with himself for succumbing to such base desires—he is a proud servant of Malleus, and he should not be indulging in such... human weakness. It's an insult to his Fae heritage! But on the other hand, he is irresistibly drawn to you, his body betraying his thoughts every time he sees your updates. The internal battle rages on, but he knows deep down that he’s hooked.

Lilia hums to himself, elated as he chuckles upon seeing your new update. Lilia has had his fair share of intimacy throughout the hundreds of years he's been alive. The concept of seduction as a barter is nothing new to him. But! Lilia can’t help but admire the way the new generation goes about it nowadays! Back in his time, Lilia had to travel to a brothel for such experiences. Now, he can just use his phone from anywhere. Yet, a small part of him is disappointed that you’re not physically present. He grins, his fangs poking out as he sees you wearing the bat earrings he sent you. Ah, they suit you so well!

Silver is ever the gentleman, probably the only one in Diasomnia—the whole NRC, who can separate the ordinary You and the OnlyCam's You. You never told him but you appreciate his approach a lot. He is subscribed to your highest tier and he always gives you tips that he got from his allowance and payment as Malleus' guard. Silver’s support goes beyond mere admiration. He views your content with a sense of quiet respect, understanding that there’s more to it than just the seduction part you're selling. For him, it's about the effort, the confidence, and the creativity you put into your work. Despite the nature of your content, Silver’s feelings remain pure. He never asks for anything in return for his support, never expects special treatment. When he leaves a tip, it’s with the hope that it might make your day a little brighter, that it might help you feel appreciated in a world you're alienated to. He is a knight, well suited to protect you should you ask him to.

....

Rollo feels as though he's sinning every time he opens your OnlyCams account—blasphemous content! His heart pounds with guilt and shame as he scrolls through your seductive photos, each one a temptation pulling him deeper into the abyss. He knows this is wrong—so wrong—yet he cannot tear himself away. The purity and righteousness he prides himself on crumble under the weight of his desire for you. He mentally recites prayers, trying to cleanse himself of the impure thoughts that flood his mind, but it’s futile. The more he resists, the stronger the urge becomes. Despite the shame that burns his conscience, Rollo keeps coming back for more, drawn to the very thing he despises. Trapped in a cycle of sin and repentance, he battles with his inner demons, torn between his devotion to his beliefs and his growing obsession with you.

[gardening--tools]

me while playing fo4 because i’m an opinionated bitch and i disagree with bethesda’s character design

anyway. presenting,

a detailed look at every companion’s appearance, according to me.

(these are all headcanons. they might not be yours, but they are mine. i wrote this as a fic-writing reference, but i don't mind sharing so long as we're all nice about it. also, spoilers ahead for companion quests, both in vanilla game and dlcs. you've been warned okay love you have fun. sorry in advance that you can clearly tell who my favorite character is.)

cw: heights represented by the united states customary system. sorry metric users :/

Ada. Modified RobCo Assaultron. 2074 model. SN has been sanded off and replaced with "ADA", painted carefully (lovingly) in blue script. It's clear that it has been reapplied multiple times, as many times as necessary. Post-Mechanist quest, she requests to have the names of her fallen friends painted on her body as well.

Cait. Pre-addiction recovery, scrawny-strong. Blood, muscle, bone and not much else. Very short. Like, south-side of 5'3". Has a very rectangular body shape. Hard angles. Was bright strawberry blonde when she was a kid, but it got darker as she got older. Hazel eyes. Freckles year-round and all over. She doesn't burn super easily, but she doesn't really tan either. Just freckles. Nose is crooked from being broken too many times. Post-addiction recovery she is a beef. cake. With Sole's help and resources she gains plenty of weight post recovery. Other than the normal weight gain that comes after recovering from addiction, she finds she enjoys exercise—especially weight lifting—and that it helps her manage her cravings. Her biceps are unfair. If I can be honest, I really only shared this so I can start proselytizing for my Fat Cait Agenda.

Codsworth. Standard GAI Mister Handy. 2076 Model. SN: 01HND-7619-0163. This is only visible because the 2076 Handys had their SN's embossed. All other markings that were printed or painted on have eroded away. A cute fact about Codsworth is that, despite his 200 years of wear and tear, he doesn't have a single dent on his exterior panels. Not. A. Dent. Scratches, yes. Scuffs, sure. No dents. He takes his structural integrity very seriously, thank you. He will brag about this if you let him.

Curie. Pre-companion quest, Modified GAI Miss Nanny. 2072 Model. SN has been scratched off and replaced with what is probably "CURIE", but the combination of chicken scratch writing and 200 year old marker makes it illegible. Post-personal quest, Generic Female Synth Body. Average body weight, brown hair, brown eyes. (I know she technically has "Hazel Blue" eyes but I disagree. It's my post and I get to make the rules here.) Her only deviation from "average" is her height. Generic Synth Height is 5'10", for both male and female synths. Takes time to look neat—neatly trimmed nails, trimmed hair, etc—and enjoys it.

Danse. M7-97 was a vanity design* so Danse looks a little different from the Generic Synth design. Still has the brown hair, brown eyes, but is a touch shorter than the standard. 5'8". Latino or Hispanic. His hair is insanely thick, but his beard always grows in a little patchy and with the odd blond patch just below his right ear. (This was not an intentional part of his “design.” Genetics, even synthesized genetics, get funky sometimes.) Carries weight like a strongman weightlifter. Thicker than average, even for the Brotherhood, so he's always had to have his flight suits and PA specially altered. (Thicker than average in regards to BODY TYPE you sickos– This is not that kind of post lmao.)

(This post from slocumjoe is a huge influence for my headcanon for Danse! Thank you for going through your archive to find it!)

Deacon. The Average Guy Ever™. Average height, average build. I'm firmly in the "Deacon is a Good Spy, actually" camp, so. Uncanny ability to adjust how he looks just by altering his posture. His weight has always easily fluctuated, so he can go from stick thin to bulked up in a matter of weeks. No matter how many surgeries he gets, he cannot hide the freckles. They always come back. He would have had piano hands if he hadn't been a chronic brawler in his youth. Knuckles are very crooked now. Eyes so blue they're nearly grey. Ginger. Has long eyelashes that are frankly illegal for someone who covers his eyes all the time.

Dogmeat. Dog. He has six toes on his back left foot.

Gage. 5'11". In an alternate universe, would tell people he was 5'9" just to fuck with them. Was a towheaded kid whose hair darkened significantly as he grew up. If he spends a lot of time out in the sun, though, it will turn a sandy blonde/light brown. He keeps his hair short because otherwise it gets very curly and floppy and it really kills his "bad-guy raider" vibe. Would be one of those white boys who tans super well but also thinks wearing sunscreen is for the weak. Scarred to shit. Holds onto muscle for a really long time. Underbite. Slutty little waist because I think that's funny.

Hancock. John Prime was already pretty wiry to begin with, and becoming a ghoul has only emphasized this. 5'7" but seems shorter because he's always leaning on something. Draping, even. He's like if a man was also a liquid, somehow. His remaining hair is incredibly thin, but is the most vibrant golden blonde anyone has ever seen. Eyes are dark due to discoloration, but sometimes—if he's taken in a ton of rads—the edges of his irises will glow subtly. Several piercings on his ears, but he used to have more. Lost them on account of his nose falling off. (You know how it is.) Replaced them with an astonishing collection of rings. Cheekbones that could slice a brahmin. Missing his fourth toe on his right foot.

MacCready. Definition of scrunkly. Not a lick of fat anywhere to be found. 5'5". Has a Gunner tattoo on the left side of his forehead and he hates it. It's why he wears his hat so low. Had an ear pierced once, but it got ripped out ages ago. His left earlobe is split now. He very clearly needed braces growing up but obviously didn't have access to that. Bottom teeth are crooked. His cuticles are picked to shit. Sandy brown hair. Cuts his own hair, but only cares about the hair around his face. Line of sight. Sniper. You get it. Is generally too lazy/uninterested in the rest, and will neglect it until it gets too long, so. Mullet (hot).

Nick. See, the problem with my synth grandpa is that this is the only character whose design Bethesda completely and utterly nailed. Like yeah, he does look like that. You got it. You did it. Perfect, no notes. Like all other Generic Synths, he's 5'10".

Old Longfellow. Exactly what you would expect an Old Hermit-Mariner Driven To Eldritch Madness By The Fog and The Sea would look like. The wildest eyebrows anybody has ever seen. Like you could take a comb through those bad boys. His hair is past his shoulders and fades into his beard. Stark white hair due to the stress of living alone on an island and from What He's Seen. You cannot convince me that there are not some Lovecraftian nasties living in the sea. They Know Longfellow, but Longfellow Knows Them. 6' until he stands up straight and then he's like. 6'5". Liver spots across his face and hands. Looks like he has cataracts in both eyes, but somehow can see better than you.

Piper. By far the companion whose Bethesda!verse appearance I disregard the most. In my heart she is a South Asian woman. On the taller side, between 5'8" and 5'9". Super thick, dark brown hair that in fact does just Look Like That (unfair). Her hair grows from fairly far down on her neck. Deep brown eyes. Spends lots of time on her makeup, even when she's out in the 'wealth chasing leads. Prefers red lips and dark liner close to her lid-lines. Her cupid's bow is super pronounced and she does her makeup to highlight it. On the softer side in regards to physique. Has a burn scar on her right forearm from a cooking mishap back when she was still trying to figure out how to live on her own and take care of Nat at the same time. Bites her nails.

Preston. Personification of someone telling you that everything is going to be all right. Tall, 6'. Pretty standard physique for someone who grew up on a farm and then became a soldier in a wasteland militia. Very square hands. Lets his hair grow out a little bit because he (forgets about it) likes it. Brown eyes that look like honey when the sun hits them. Other than the two scars on his face—one running down his left cheek, the other a small nick on his top lip—he has a scar from a bullet wound on his right shoulder. Has a stick and poke tattoo of the Minuteman coat of arms on his left arm, just where his shoulder meets his bicep. Top lip is bigger than his bottom lip. Dimples when he smiles. Huge smile, smiles with his whole mouth. Legs like an adonis. Someone get this man into some 4' inseam shorts, STAT.

Strong. Super mutant. He was a Butcher, so he's a little beefier than your average mutant. Of course, this is only known to other mutants, as the subtleties of mutant physiology tend to be lost on non-mutated humans.

X6-88. Generic Courser Build. While Generic Synths are designed to blend in with the everyman, Generic Coursers are designed to inspire fear in every man. (booo bad joke tomato tomato) 6'3" but stands so perfectly straight that he seems taller. Has the superhero build, but like naturally. Keeps his hair in a short fade. Bottom lip is lighter than the top lip. Has little lines around his mouth from all his frowning. Has one (1) singular scar on his chin. He won't tell you where he got it (it's from him eating it on concrete steps. That was the one mission he asked for an extension on, so the evidence of him beefing it would heal.) Also chronically wears sunglasses. Behind those aviators are grey eyes that are so pale and sharp, they almost look white.

[floatyflowers]

Platonic Dark! Prince x Child Reader

𝕿he people saw him as a monster because of the fact that he has pale skin and white hair. He also can't see well due to his purple irises.

But no one dared to call him a 'monster', but instead, he was nicknamed 'the strange'.

Prince Gwyn doesn't like to indulge himself in balls, even though he is the crown prince.

Instead, he likes to stay in his chamber all day, avoiding the eyes of many onlookers.

Gwyn loves to read many books; he finds comfort in learning, especially if they are books about mysticism.

One day, the twenty-year-old prince was sitting on his windowsill reading a book.

The weather is not sunny, which is perfect for him to also enjoy the sight of the outside world for a while.

Yet, the sight of the servants caught his eyes.

Down in the garden, two female servants are placing the clothes on the drying line.

What caught his attention is the small child running around the garden joyfully.

This small child is you, a servant's daughter probably.

You suddenly stop and look up at him.

Gwyn expected to see you scream and run away upon seeing his appearance, but instead, you smiled and waved at him.

He wanted to wave back at you, but you runaway to go and speak with your mother.

A child? This is the first time he sees a child in his life.

He continued to observe you from his window as you played outside, and he was intrigued by your innocence and joy.

Gwyn couldn't help but smile to himself, feeling a sense of warmth and connection to the child despite you being a stranger.

The prince wants you to be his platonic companion.

°°°

Gwyn had never felt this way towards anyone before. It was a new and unfamiliar feeling, but he found himself wanting more.

Maybe if he clears up his mind, he can forget about you.

He put down his book and decided to take a walk around the palace grounds after midnight, like he usually does when everyone sleeps.

Except for the guards who are always on the watch.

While walking through the castle, he finds a small figure sneaking around.

So, the prince decides to follow the figure, believing that it is you.

Gwyn cautiously approached the small figure, careful not to frighten them. As he got closer, he saw that it was indeed you.

You went to the kitchen and he followed inside after you, noticing that you were eating food.

He sighed in relief, realizing that you were the only person in the castle who didn't seem afraid of him.

"So, it's you," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "I take it you don't follow the rules?"

You looked at him in surprise, your eyes wide with curiosity. "What rules?" you asked.

Gwyn chuckled, amused by your innocence. "The rules that say we can't be out after midnight," he explained. "But I see that doesn't bother you."

You giggled, your small hands covering your mouth.

"No, it doesn't," you said.

"I come out here all the time to eat."

Gwyn nodded, acknowledging the fact that you probably didn't have much to eat during the day.

It made sense; you were a servant's child, after all.

He took a step closer to you, noticing that you were quite short in height.

"What's your name, child?" he asked softly, his eyes fixed on you.

You hesitated for a moment before answering, your mind trying to process the situation.

"My name is (Y/n), Sir Angel" you replied cheerfully.

"Sir Angel?"

Gwyn inquires, surprised at your nickname for him.

"Yes, because you are beautiful like an angel"

Your words was enough to make him finally burst into tears.

People always saw him as a cursed monster, but here you, a child, calling him an 'Angel'

"That's such a sweet thing to say," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "But I'm not an angel. I'm what they call a 'monster.'"

He sighed heavily, feeling the weight of his words, as gets down on his knees.

Gwyn paused for a moment, looking at you with a mix of sadness and hope in his eyes.

"But you, you accept me for who I am. You don't care about my appearance or my curse. You just see me as a person."

He smiled warmly at you, grateful for your kindness and understanding.

You pat his head, curious to touch his hair, your fingers touching his strands.

Gwyn thought you were comforting him, but in reality, you just liked his hair color.

"Would you like to be my companion?"

Your eyes brighten up in happiness.

"Does that mean mommy can come too"

Gwyn's mood sours at the mention of your mother, and smiles bitterly about someone sharing you with him.

"Yes...she can"

°°°

The prince murdered your mother in cold blood right in front of your eyes, and hid the evidence in the same garden you used to play in when you were younger.

Now, at fifteen, you stand, in front of your mother's grave weeping.

Weeping for the fact that you are now a prisoner, with no way out of this castle.

The prince did indeed look angelic on the outside.

But, he truly was a monster all along.

[thedragonkween]

King Baldwin IV Headcanons! ♔🤍♕

A/N: So, here we are. I could not resist this mysterious and tormented king's charm. His silky voice makes me dream! These are some headcanons I've collected off the top of my head. The Reader is implied to be female and married to Baldwin IV. Please, do feel free to hit my inbox to ramble about our king because I'm literally dying of pining and yearning.

tags: female!reader x baldwin iv of jerusalem (from kingdom of heaven); reader is married to baldwin iv of jerusalem; fluff; slight angst towards the end

wc: 1150k

reccomended songs to listen to while reading: "Summertime Sadness" by Hildegard von Blingin; "Right Here" by Ashes Remain; "Blood, Sweat, Tears" by BTS (orchestral version)

"Many are the tales of the King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem and of his Queen. Despite the varying accounts of their deeds, each one of them agrees on one aspect: the King of Jerusalem loved his Queen dearly, and the world is richer for it".

Baldwin IV is mysterious, intense, valiant, noble and utterly devoted to you, his Queen. But what does this devotion look like?

Firstly, he would believe in you like no other and would always be ready to give you his best advice whenever the weight of your responsibility becomes too much. Foreign rulers would soon learn of your qualities - there would hardly be a piece of correspondence where the King of Jerusalem does not praise the intellect and insight of his dear wife. He would glance at you from time to time, while you both work at your desks sharing the burden of paperwork, silently thanking God for having sent him not only a beautiful, but reliable life companion as well.

He values your opinions greatly and has the utmost regard for your views on political, military and state matters. Disagreements happen, yet your overall values are aligned, which is why Baldwin understands your vision and where your point comes from. During the discussions regarding complex decisions, he would let you speak and explain, then he would offer his honest thoughts on the matter, should he see another, different way from yours. 

Playing chess is a favorite way of spending quality time together in your chambers, away from the chaos of the court. If you know how to play and are proficient at it, he would delight in the thrill of challenge, as he would finally have found a true equal. If you do not know how to play, he would teach you with patience, taking pride whenever you make an unexpected and astute move. He would be such a nerd while he explains the rules to you and would be delighted to see how your mind works when devising a plan.

"Congratulations, dove. You have a checkmate."

I can also see Baldwin taking you on long rides, if his health allows it. He would sweetly check the reins and saddle on your horse before mounting on his steed and leading you away to enjoy the cool early morning breeze, before the heat of Jerusalem becomes too sweltering. You would have a nice and secluded spot to enjoy and to pretend that you are a couple of young lovers without responsibilities and crowns weighing on your heads.

Your presence brings him safety and comfort, which is what would convince him to remove his mask when he is alone with you and the physicians. He would especially love to rest his head on your lap as you gently caress his curls while the physicians tend to his skin. It is a sacred moment. He does not know how he went so long without your presence during this delicate time. Speaking softly to each other, you would distract him from the pain with talk of your hometown, fairy tales from your culture, or even simply reflecting on a happening of that day. On these occasions, you learn how to best take care of him, watching the physician tend to his arm while you tend to the other, delicately dabbing the cloth over his wounded skin. Baldwin feels so protected and safe in your presence. He thinks you are God’s greatest gift to him.

Now, jealousy. Baldwin knows he boasts the honor of having an exquisite flower such as yourself to call his own. As do powerful men and courtiers from distant lands. Many covet your loveliness as one would a precious gem. Should one of these foolish people try to take you from him or even stare at you for too long to be considered proper, they would be met with a pure force to be reckoned with. Should a knight’s eye linger on you for too long, he would be quick to put him in place in his signature glacial, elegant way. Before long, everyone learns not to disrespect the Queen consort of Jerusalem.

“Perhaps you would have understood my point, had you not been so insolently ogling my wife”. He takes out his whip. “On your knees. You will pay for insulting the Queen”.

He would protect you with his life. He swore to protect Jerusalem and, as its Queen, that includes first of all you. Should a courtier doubt your devotion and mistake it for thirst for power, or should he learn of an orchestrated attempt on your life, he would waste no time in employing his best forces in your service to defend you.

His enemies and templars alike fear him, yet with you he is as gentle as the morning breeze that gently caresses Jerusalem. This powerful king who makes armies tremble and kingdoms shake is the same person who holds and kisses your hand (when in public, bringing your fingers to the lips of his mask), who silently admires your loveliness from afar and sighs to himself, who longs for your warmth after a tiring day. 

He would write you letters. Lots of them. And not always when he is away. Maybe he just liked the way the sun reflected in your eyes that morning. Or maybe when you helped a servant, he was moved by your kindness. Your every action inspires him, so much so that he has to let out his thoughts on paper. You have a pretty wooden box brimming with delicate papers penned by Baldwin in your honor. He is not only the King of Jerusalem, but also the king of pining, of yearning. Even when he has you near, he yearns for you.

I love to imagine him letting you accompany him to battle. He would love it too, in theory. You make him so strong, the both of you would be quite the sight, meeting your enemies head on, as one, donning your best armors. Yet, at the same time I cannot imagine him resting easy knowing that a loose arrow, a desperate soldier seeking glory for killing the Queen of Jerusalem, or fatigue and sickness could take you from him. It pains his heart to be parted from you, yet he cannot risk your safety. Instead, Baldwin would trust you with ruling the kingdom. He has absolute faith in your intelligence, willpower and cleverness, especially after all he has taught you about running the realm. He longs for you every second he’s away from Jerusalem, yet his heart is at peace knowing his kingdom is in the most capable hands.

When he feels that his time on this Earth is nearing his end, he calls for his most trusted advisors, including Balian and Tiberias. He would ask them, almost begging, to protect you always, at all costs, when he is no longer there to do so. Balian and Tiberias would exchange a quick glance to each other, vowing to respect their King’s wish until the very end.

“Protect her. Please.” “Always, my Lord”.

Poems, songs and stories would be written in honor of your love even centuries after your passing. Many tales would speak of Baldwin IV of Jerusalem and his Queen. Different pieces of art, such as paintings and ballads, would inspire people from all over the world to find a love as devoted and unshakable as yours. Until the very end.

All in all, to love Baldwin means knowing your time together is limited. As is the time of all creatures on Earth. He would beg you to go on after his passing, to live for him. He shall wait for you and protect you from above. Until the very end.

[thewulf]

Hidden Away || Rhysand

Summary: Request -hi if ur reqs are open, could you maybe write a fic with rhys where feyre is not his mate but reader? can r also be tamlins sister so when he locked feyre up in the manor, he also locked r with her? then r is just trying to break the barrier but shes draining her powers in the process so when mor and rhys arrive, r is just on the brink of passing out. thank you so so much! hope u have a good day!!

A/N: Rhys is challenging! Let me know how you like it below :) As always thank you for the requests!

Pairing: Rhysand x Female Reader (Spring Court Reader/Tamlin's Sister)

Word Count: 8.4k +

TW: Talks of abuse, use of magic

As Tamlin's nearly unknown sister your life within the Spring Court is shrouded in secrecy. Tucked away from the public eye, you roam the silent corridors of the manor with your presence barely acknowledged. The manor's ancient stones, cool under your fingertips, are the closest companions in your secluded existence. Each day bleeds into the next marked only by your secret practice of magic in the hidden corners of the lush gardens where the wildflowers refuse to be tamed.

Tamlin had his reasons for keeping you a secret though they were rooted in a misguided sense of protection and control rather than genuine care. From the moment you were born your existence was cloaked in secrecy. Tamlin was always wary of political machinations and potential threats from rival courts. He believed that hiding your presence would keep you safe from those who might seek to leverage you against him. As you grew older this excuse became a method to maintain control by suppressing any threat your emerging powers might pose to his authority.

Whenever important guests visited the Spring Court Tamlin would go to great lengths to conceal your existence. Often you were confined to the secluded parts of the manor. Your movements restricted. Your voice silenced. These actions weren't just physically isolating. They were deeply wounding, reinforcing a sense of imprisonment. Over time you learned that resistance was futile. After a century of struggling against Tamlin’s overpowering magic, a magic that you could never hope to match due to your suppressed knowledge and training, you ceased fighting back. Your spirit, dimmed by isolation and the relentless dampening of your will, began to fade.

Despite all this you’ve learned to cloak your discontent with a veneer of obedience by teaching yourself the subtle arts of magic from fragments of ancient texts and whispers of the wind. Each spell you cast is a silent rebellion against the isolation imposed upon you. It wasn’t much but it certainly was something.

Meanwhile, Rhysand had always felt an inexplicable pull towards the Spring Court. This sensation was particularly strong whenever he visited Tamlin's lands. Each step within its borders intensified a feeling of latent connection. A thread of destiny that seemed to tug at his very soul. For years he couldn't decipher this feeling instead attributing it to political tensions or his natural distrust of Tamlin. However, he knew the sensation was far deeper. He just didn’t know he was connected to the bond that lay dormant between him and you waiting for the right moment to awaken.

This mysterious pull was part of the mating bond that neither of you were aware of yet. Rhysand’s visits to the Spring Court were unknowingly steps towards his destiny, towards you. His soul recognized what his mind could not yet understand. That his mate was hidden within the very walls of the Spring Court suppressed under Tamlin’s rule. It was a bond that defied explanation, woven by the threads of fate, magic, and a longing that transcended Rhysand's conscious understanding.

The monotony of your hidden life breaks when Feyre returns from Under the Mountain, changed. No longer the mortal girl who once crossed into the fae lands she now carries the weight of her new immortal form along with the haunting shadows of her trials. Initially your interactions are tentative. The air between you charged with the unsaid. However, as time weaves its slow dance you find in her a kindred spirit. Another soul chafing against the constraints of Tamlin’s overprotective nature.

Under the cover of night where the moon casts silver slivers through the windowpanes you and Feyre meet quietly. There in the tranquility of darkness, you share fragments of your lives. Your years spent hidden within these walls and her days under the mountain and the heavy price of her return. Each story shared tightens the thread of understanding between you.

In these stolen moments you reveal to Feyre the secret magic you’ve nurtured. Her eyes, reflecting the glow of your spells, flicker with a mix of surprise and a burgeoning sense of solidarity. Encouraged by her interest you find the courage to dream of more than just secretive practices. Together you whisper of freedom and plot beneath the starry sky. Your magic mingling with her newfound strength.

Tamlin had cast a powerful and intricate spell around the manor. Not just as a means of protection from external threats but also as a method of control over those within its walls. This spell was multi-layered, designed to enforce Tamlin's rule and suppress any dissent. For you it was a tangible manifestation of your confinement. An ever-present force that limited your movements and dampened your inherent magical abilities.

The spell was woven into the very foundations of the manor. Invisible yet oppressively palpable. It acted as a barrier not just against physical entry but against magical influence from outside. And crucially it curbed the magical potential of those it enclosed. For someone like you whose powers had been stifled and knowledge kept minimal the spell represented a severe handicap. A chain around the very essence of your being.

On a stormy night, you and Feyre found yourselves poring over ancient texts and forbidden scrolls. These documents were hidden away in the darkest corners of the library and contained arcane knowledge that Tamlin had likely never intended for you to find. They spoke of old magic, powerful and untamed, the kind that could potentially unravel the complex web of spells Tamlin had cast.

The air in the library was heavy with the scent of old parchment and an undercurrent of desperation. Each incantation you attempted, every ritual you performed to try and dismantle Tamlin’s barriers, drained you more profoundly than the last. The magical exertion pulled at the very essence of your being. Proof to the spell's strength and your own nascent powers trying to break free.

Feyre who was transformed and strengthened by her ordeal under the mountain was exactly what you needed beside you. She lent her newfound powers to your cause. Yet, as the night unfolded and the storm outside mirrored the tumult within her concern for you deepened. She saw the physical and magical toll the efforts took on you. The color draining from your face. Your hands trembling with the strain. But still, you wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t give up.

Despite the risk the need to break free from the suffocating constraints of Tamlin’s spell pushed you both forward. It wasn't just about escape. It was about reclaiming your right to autonomy, to magic, to life itself. The friendship that grew between you and Feyre was cemented not just by shared secrets but by this mutual struggle for liberation. A struggle against the literal and figurative walls that Tamlin had erected around you.

As dawn approached with the storm still raging outside you and Feyre reached a critical point in your efforts. A breakthrough seemed tantalizingly within reach. The words on the ancient scrolls beginning to resonate with the energy you both channeled. The walls of the manor groaned under the pressure of your combined powers. A sure sign that Tamlin's spell was finally beginning to falter.

Determined to break the oppressive chains once and for all you both head into the heart of the storm where the barrier's energy pulses strongest. The rain beats down mercilessly mingling with the energy of your combined spell. A desperate, powerful incantation aimed at shattering the bonds. The backlash is swift and fierce. A surge of raw, antagonistic energy from the barrier meets your spell head-on. The impact is like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs and sending sharp tendrils of pain coursing through your veins. The world tilts dangerously with your vision narrowing.

Feyre grips your hands as her own powers flared around you both in a protective embrace. "We can do this, Y/N, just a bit more—"

But her encouragement turns to a scream of horror as your legs give out completely. Your strength finally failing. As you collapse into her arms, your consciousness fading, her fear peaks. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The raw panic in her voice is palpable. Her plea filled with a primal terror that she cannot contain. Her scream is not just vocal. It's a surge of emotional energy that travels through the bargain she shares with Rhysand.

At that moment, in the distant Night Court, Rhysand feels a jolt. A sharp, unbidden intrusion into his thoughts. Feyre’s voice was distorted by panic and edged with despair, echoes in his mind. "No! Y/N, no, stay with me, please!" The words hit him with the force of a physical blow. His heart races. His instincts scream. Without a second thought he’s on his feet. The protective and commanding part of him taking over. Mor sensed the urgency. She looks up from her work with alarm spreading across her face.

"We need to go to the Spring Court. We must go now." Rhysand barks out. His voice brooking no argument. He can't explain how he knows only that the terror in Feyre's voice has triggered something primal in him. Something fiercely protective. As he and Mor prepare to leave Rhysand's mind races with possibilities. His worry mounting with each passing second. The bargain was not one of mates but has acted as a lifeline in this critical moment. He is driven by a deep-seated need to respond, to protect, to arrive in time.

In the dim light of the storm-lashed evening back in the confines of the Spring Court, Feyre cradled you against her as her arms forming a protective barrier against the unrelenting winds and rain that battered the walls of the manor. The spells that Tamlin had woven around the estate groaned under the strain, resonating with the fury of the storm.

As you lay there nearly depleted by your attempts to break through Tamlin’s magical barriers you found every breath to be a battle. Feyre leaned close. Her voice barely audible above the howl of the wind. "Help is coming, Y/N. Just hold on. Please, hold on." Her words were infused with a mixture of determination and desperation. A fervent plea cast into the chaos of the night.

Despite her assurances you knew that Feyre had no way of knowing if help would truly come. She wasn't versed in the intricacies of the bargain she made, nor did she understand the silent, unseen forces that might be at play beyond the reach of Tamlin’s spells. Her faith was not based on certainty but on hope. A hope that Rhysand was somehow attuned to the peril you faced and would sense your need and find a way to breach the seemingly impenetrable defenses of the Spring Court.

As the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, the storm outside seemed to mirror the tumult of your emotions. With every gust of wind, with every crack of thunder, you felt the edges of your resolve fray. Yet with Feyre’s presence and her unwavering support it fortified you. Together you were wrapped in the scant warmth her body provided against the chill of the rain. You waited silently hoping.

Feyre continued to whisper into the storm. Words of encouragement and silent prayers mingled with the rain reaching out into the night as if the very force of her will could summon the help you so desperately needed.

As Rhysand and Mor race through the turbulent night sky the urgency of Feyre's distress call pulses within Rhysand. However, the formidable magical barrier erected by Tamlin at the Spring Court looms as a daunting obstacle. As they approach the boundary Rhysand's expression turns contemplative knowing they must penetrate the shield without triggering a violent magical backlash that could harm those inside.

"We can't just break through. It could harm them," Rhysand says. His thoughts on Feyre and the unknown others who might be caught in Tamlin’s protective snare. He suspects there are more secrets hidden within the Spring Court than Feyre alone.

Mor nods before pointing towards a section of the barrier shimmering less steadily than the rest—a weak point. "Here, let me," she offers, her hands glowing with a soft, probing light.

Together, they carefully manipulate the energies. Mor’s magic coaxing the threads of the barrier apart while Rhysand supports and stabilizes the surrounding spells to prevent a sudden collapse. The barrier relents under their skilled hands. Parting just enough to allow them a silent passage.

Once inside they quickly make their way towards the garden guided by the unerring pull of Rhysand's intuition, which grows stronger with each step. The night air is heavy with the scent of rain-soaked earth and the lingering traces of magic.

There, under an ancient oak, they find you lying in Feyre's protective embrace. Your appearance is startling to Rhysand. You were someone he's heard of but never met. A whispered secret of the Spring Court. Feyre’s eyes were wide with fear and relief. She meets their stares as they approach.

Rhysand’s initial intent to aid Feyre shifts as he catches your gaze. Something profound stirs within him as your eyes lock. There’s an unexpected jolt. A powerful surge of protectiveness that grips him. His knees nearly buckle under the sudden intensity of the emotion. His breath catching in his throat. The connection is unexpected, overwhelming, and in that moment, the significance of your presence begins to dawn on him.

"We will get you both out of here," Rhysand finds himself saying, the words carrying a weight he hadn't anticipated. His voice is gentle. Meant to reassure as he reaches out to steady you. His own magic instinctively flaring to envelop you in a warm, healing glow.

The touch confirms what his heart has already started to suspect. The mating bond, still new and unexplored, thrums with a rightness that transcends his understanding. It’s only when he helps lift you, his arms secure around you, that the realization fully settles in… his fate is irrevocably tied to yours.

With Mor and Feyre's assistance they carefully navigate back through the garden. Rhysand carrying you with an ease that belies the turmoil brewing within him. Each step back through the breach in the barrier is a step towards a new unknown, a journey he hadn't planned but now cannot imagine avoiding. As they slip back into the night heading towards the sanctuary of the Night Court Rhysand is quiet. His thoughts a whirl of possibilities and new realities. Beside him Mor watches thoughtfully. She was acutely aware that the High Lord of the Night Court was about to embark on a profoundly personal journey.

-

The night was deep and still when Rhysand was abruptly torn from his sleep. A sharp, jarring pulse of panic surged through the bond—a connection still new and startling in its intensity. It was you, finally waking from your long, enforced slumber, and the raw fear that washed over him from your end of the bond had him on his feet before he fully registered moving.

His heart raced as he crossed the space between his private chambers and the room where you rested. The halls of his residence silent save for the quiet thud of his bare feet on the cool marble floor. The bond pulsed with each heartbeat guiding him directly to you underscoring the urgency of your distress with every step he took.

As Rhysand approached the door to your room, he paused, taking a deep breath to calm the storm of his emotions. He needed to be a presence of peace for you not one of turmoil. Gently pushing the door open he stepped inside. His eyes quickly adjusting to the low light that bathed the room in gentle silvers and blues.

There you were attempting to sit up, your movements clumsy with weakness and disorientation. The room's luxuriousness that meant to comfort seemed only to add to your confusion. You grasped at the sheets. Your breathing quick and shallow as if the soft fabrics were the only things tethering you to reality.

Rhysand’s heart clenched at the sight. It was one thing to feel your panic through the bond, but quite another to see it etched so clearly across your features. He approached slowly. His presence commanding yet gentle, stopping a respectful distance away to not overwhelm you. His deep-set eyes, usually a striking shade of violet were clouded with concern.

"It’s okay, you’re safe here," Rhysand said. His voice a soft yet firm anchor in the swirling uncertainty you felt. His relief at seeing you awake, even in such a state, was palpable in his tone. Despite the fear there was an underlying gratitude that you were finally conscious. That there was a beginning of recovery however fraught it might be. "You're in Velaris, the heart of the Night Court." He adds hopping to provide you some comfort.

"Velaris?" you repeat. The name unfamiliar and puzzling. You squint at him trying to place the city that sounds more like a myth than reality.

"Yes, Velaris," he continues noting your confusion. "It's a city unlike any in the fae realms, hidden and protected by powerful spells. It's a place of peace and freedom. It is far from the reach of those who would impose their will unjustly." His voice holds a note of pride when he speaks of the city, and his explanation paints a picture of a safe haven. A contrast to the oppressive atmosphere of the Spring Court.

Seeing your slightly eased expression he decided to introduce himself, "I'm Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court." He keeps his tone even giving you space to process the flood of new information. "You were very ill, so we brought you here to recover. Tamlin cannot reach you here. Our city's protections are strong."

His explanation about Tamlin brings a different kind of tightness to your chest—the fear of pursuit and retribution. Feeling and seeing your growing anxiety, Rhysand adds, "Tamlin has no power here. You and Feyre are both safe and you will always have a place in Velaris."

As Rhysand speaks of Velaris and its protections you find yourself momentarily comforted by his description of the city as a safe haven. Yet, another concern quickly surfaces, tugging at your thoughts with earnest sincerity.

"And Feyre?" you ask. Your voice carrying the weight of genuine worry. "Is she okay?" Your expression reveals the depth of your concern not just for your own situation but also for Feyre who had been entangled in your fate by association.

Rhysand’s expression softens further at your question. His smile tinged with a mix of admiration and surprise. He steps closer, his presence comforting rather than overwhelming. "She is doing well," he assures you, leaning down slightly to meet your gaze more directly. "Are you going to ask about everyone but yourself?" His tone is light and teasing yet it carries an undercurrent of deep respect for your altruism.

He finds it endearing how your first thoughts are for others even in your own time of uncertainty and recovery. It’s a trait he notes is incredibly sweet. Almost too kind for someone who grew up under Tamlin's strict and often harsh rule as his sister, no less.

A faint smile flickers across your face at Rhysand’s light teasing before it quickly fades. You glance away looking out over the vista that the Night Court offers feeling a sudden tightness in your chest. "I... it's just easier to worry about others," you murmur. Your voice barely above a whisper. The unfamiliar concern in his eyes makes you unexpectedly uncomfortable. A reminder of how long you've had to rely solely on yourself. You shift away slightly putting a small distance between you and Rhysand as if the space could help you regain some control. "I'm not used to being someone's concern," you add while keeping your gaze averted. "It feels strange I guess. Not having to fend for myself."

Your words hang in the air showing the walls you've built from years under Tamlin's rule. The Spring Court was a place where self-reliance wasn't just a trait but a necessity for survival. The vulnerability of relying on someone else, even someone as seemingly gentle as Rhysand, feels as foreign as the magical landscape of Velaris itself.

Rhysand senses a subtle shift in your emotions through the bond. A twinge of discomfort, a whisper of withdrawal. He understands too well the complexities of adjusting to new dynamics of care and concern. As you glance away he gives you a moment. He respects your need for space before responding himself.

With a slight adjustment in his stance, Rhysand maintains his gentle smile, hoping to ease the tension. "Feyre visits often," he begins, his voice soft, an attempt to gently steer the conversation towards a more comfortable topic. "She's taken quite well to her roles here. She worries about you too, you know," he adds trying to build a connection through your shared concern for Feyre.

His words bring a small comfort, and you nod to him feeling a thread of relief woven through the lingering disquiet. "That's good to hear," you murmur giving yourself a moment to absorb the reassurances about Feyre's well-being.

Rhysand watches you with a thoughtful expression appreciating the selflessness displayed in your first waking moments. "Now, let’s focus a bit on you," he suggests kindly. "You’ve been through a lot and while Velaris is safe… I imagine it's quite a lot to take in."

Rhysand's words wash over you and you pause to absorb them feeling both comforted and overwhelmed by his understanding. "It is a lot," you agree softly, your gaze drifting around the unfamiliar yet beautiful room. "Everything here is so different. So overwhelming but not in a bad way."

You take a deep breath making sure to gather your thoughts before continuing. "I appreciate the safety and the peace here, Rhysand. It's just... I'm still figuring out where I fit into all of this." Your voice is tentative, reflecting your uncertainty about the future.

Rhysand nods. His expression empathetic. "And that's perfectly okay," he reassures you gently. "Take all the time you need to feel comfortable. There’s no pressure for you to decide anything right now."

Feeling a mix of reassurance and nascent courage from his support you decide to push yourself a bit. Attempting to rise from the bed, your movements are unsteady. A reminder of the physical and emotional tolls from your past. You pause, placing a hand on the mattress to steady yourself.

Rhysand notices your struggle immediately. His sharp gaze softening with concern. "You shouldn't be on your feet just yet," he cautions with his voice gentle yet firm.

You steady yourself with a hand against the soft bedding and look up at him. Your eyes were wide and earnest, silently pleading for understanding before you voice your deep-seated longing. "Please, I've... I’ve never left the Spring Court. I wish to see what other courts look like."

The raw honesty in your words strikes Rhysand deeply. He hesitates aware of the physical contact you might need to stand and walk, yet also conscious of the trauma you’ve likely endured under Tamlin's watch. His heart clenches at the thought of your centuries-long confinement. A life that wasn’t meant to be spent caged within a single court's borders.

As you continue to gaze at him with a mix of hope and vulnerability in your eyes Rhysand's resolve softens. "Alright," he murmurs. His expression a mix of encouragement and a hint of sadness for your past suffering. He steps forward offering his arm for support being careful to let you decide the level of contact you're comfortable with.

When you gratefully accept his help you leant slightly into his strength. Rhysand carefully supports you, mindful of your frailty. As he guides you slowly around the room his mind races. He was appalled by the reality that you, centuries old, have been essentially a prisoner for just as long.

"We’ll start with Velaris," Rhysand says as you take tentative steps towards the balcony. "It’s beautiful this time of year. The city is alive with lights and the people are free. You'll see, it’s a world away from what you've known."

Your curiosity brightens your features as each small detail of the room you now notice seeming to intrigue you. Rhysand watches this small transformation with a protective fierceness settling in his chest. He makes a silent vow then, to not only show you the beauty of the Night Court but to gradually introduce you to the freedoms and wonders of each of the courts ensuring you experience everything you've been denied.

With each step you take leaning on Rhysand a surprising sense of security begins to wash over you. There’s an inexplicable comfort in his presence. A safety that seems to emanate from him directly. You can't quite pinpoint why he feels so safe, why every instinct isn’t screaming for you to run from the unknown. But as you lean more heavily against him while navigating through the unfamiliar room it felt right.

Rhysand notices the subtle shift in your demeanor. The slight relaxation in your posture as you trust him more with each tentative step. It’s a trust he doesn’t take lightly as he was acutely aware of the preciousness of it given your past. He guides you gently, ensuring each movement is steady and unhurried.

“Just a little further,” he encourages softly as you approach the grand doors leading to the balcony. As he pushes the doors open a gentle breeze wafts in carrying with it the unique scents of Velaris. The crisp, clean air mingled with distant sea salt and the vibrant aroma of night-blooming flowers.

You step onto the balcony and the view that unfolds before you steals your breath away. The city of Velaris stretches out beneath a sky littered with stars. Its buildings adorned with luminescent glyphs and streets alive with softly glowing lanterns. The Sidra River reflects the lights creating a sparkling path that leads to the heart of the city. Your eyes dart from spot to spot taking in the sight of sprawling bridges. From the artistic sculptures that line the walkways to the fae moving about with an ease and freedom so alien to what you’ve known. Everything is so vibrant, so vividly alive. It's like stepping into a dream.

Rhysand watches you. His expression a mix of pride and gentle amusement. “It’s a lot to take in,” he say as his voice is barely above a whisper not wanting to break the enchantment of the moment.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathe out as your voice was filled with wonder. "I never imagined..." Your words trail off as you continue to soak in the sight, the reality of Velaris surpassing any tale or description of the Night Court you had ever heard in the Spring Court.

As you stand there, awestruck, Rhysand stands close. He was ready to offer support if needed but giving you space to experience this revelation on your own terms. There’s a warmth in his gaze. A certain softness when he looks at you, moved by your reaction, understanding just how transformative this moment is for you. “This is only a part of what the world has to offer,” Rhysand finally says, his voice low and encouraging. “And you’re free to explore all of it at your own pace. You’re not confined here, or anywhere anymore.”

As his words wash over you a new fear prickles at the edges of your newfound sense of wonder. "But Tamlin..." you start. His name a dark cloud threatening to overshadow the bright promise of freedom.

Rhysand’s reaction is immediate though. He shakes his head, cutting off your spiraling worry with a firmness that is both surprising and comforting. "Tamlin will never touch another hair on your head, darling. I will ensure it." His voice is resolute as it leaves no room for doubt. The sincerity in his tone and the warmth of his smile are reassuring, conveying a depth of commitment that makes you believe him. He’s telling the truth. You can feel it not just in his words but in the protective energy that seems to radiate from him.

As you stand there on the balcony looking out over the luminous city a confusion mingles with your gratitude. He is the High Lord of the Night Court. A figure of immense power and responsibility. Why would he extend such kindness, such personal assurance, to you? His station alone would suggest a detachment from individual affairs, yet here he is, offering not just his protection but his personal attention.

"Why?" The question escapes you before you can think better of it. Your gaze turning from the cityscape to meet his eyes. "Why would you do this for me? You're the High Lord, and yet..."

Rhysand’s expression softens understanding the root of your bewilderment. "Because everyone deserves freedom and safety," he begins, his gaze steady and earnest. "And because, despite my title I see no one as beneath my care. Especially not someone who has suffered as you have under such tyranny."

His words hint at a broader philosophy. One that governs his rule, a complete difference to the oppressive leadership of Tamlin. "Here in Velaris we protect our own and now that includes you. You’re not just under my protection because of duty but because I believe in a world where everyone has the right to choose their own path, free from fear."

His explanation resonates with you. The sincerity and conviction in his voice weaving a stronger thread of trust between you. The High Lord of the Night Court you realize is not just a ruler but a protector. He was guided by a compassion that perhaps defines his reign more than his power. As you absorb his words the city of Velaris seems to glow a little brighter. Its lights a hope of the promise Rhysand offers. A promise not just of shelter but of a life reclaimed and respected.

As Rhysand's words and the gentle sincerity behind them settle over you something shifts inside you. The fear that had been a constant companion starts to ebb away instead replaced by a sense of security you hadn’t felt in a very long time. Standing beside him, overlooking the luminous city of Velaris, you allow yourself a moment to truly take in his presence. A protector not just in title but in spirit.

The tension that had knotted your shoulders begins to unwind and without fully realizing it a small smile curves your lips. It's slight but it's the first genuine smile you’ve allowed yourself in what feels like centuries. "You know, my brother made you seem terrifying," you confess as the smile growing a bit as you speak. "You're anything but that though."

Rhysand catches the change in your expression and his eyes light up with amusement. In response he flashes you a devastatingly handsome smirk, one that's known to both unsettle and charm. "Did he now?" he says lowly. His voice laced with mock severity before it softens into warmth. "Perhaps I should be offended but coming from Tamlin I'll take it as a compliment."

His response was light and teasing. Spoken to ease the atmosphere, to let you know that it's okay to relax, to laugh, to feel safe. "Tamlin has always had a flair for the dramatic," Rhysand continues. His tone playful now. "But I hope that here in Velaris you’ll see me as I am. And perhaps find that the 'terrifying' High Lord of the Night Court can also be a friend." His words were spoken with a gentle candor and encourage a lighter heart. The warmth in his voice, the open invitation to view him as more than just a lord but as a person, deepens the budding trust and comfort you feel in his presence.

As the night air swirls around you carrying with it the vibrant energies of Velaris you find yourself more receptive to the idea of a new start. Rhysand with his easy charm and sincere protection seems not just a guardian but a companion on this journey of rediscovery. His ability to blend strength with kindness, authority with empathy, makes you believe that maybe, just maybe, you can truly start anew here.

"You make it sound almost easy," you reply. The smile now firmly in place, feeling more natural than it has for ages.

Rhysand's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "I'll do my best to make it feel that way," he assures you. "You’ve had enough of the hard path. It’s time for you to experience the peace you deserve."

-

In the weeks following your awakening Rhys had been a constant, reassuring presence by your side as you navigated the complexities of the Night Court. The city of Velaris had begun to feel less like a foreign land and more like a potential home. Rhys had carefully gauged when you might be ready to meet more people. He was intentionally keeping even his closest friends, Cassian and Azriel, at a distance to allow you time to adjust. He mentioned plans to introduce them soon ensuring that you felt comfortable with each new step.

During this time your days were filled with activities that gradually stitched you into the fabric of this new life. Rhys guided you through physical training sessions aiming to strengthen both your body and spirit. But it wasn’t all rigorous. You spent serene afternoons with Feyre, dabbling in painting. Despite your initial lack of skill Feyre was a patient teacher, encouraging every brushstroke. In exchange you helped her continue learning to read turning each session into a mutual exchange of growth and laughter.

It was a clear, crisp day in Velaris. The kind of day that made the light seem to dance off every surface, imbuing the world with a vivid sharpness. You were in the middle of a training session with Rhysand in one of the secluded gardens of the Night Court practicing your swordplay. The metal felt cool and heavy in your hands as it slowly became more familiar with each controlled swing and parry.

Rhys was ever the patient instructor. He watched and guided you, his instructions both precise and encouraging. As you moved to execute a particularly complex maneuver, something unexpected happened. Amidst the focus on your movements and the rhythm of the blades, a sudden surge of warmth blossomed deep within your chest radiating outwards like the morning sun cresting the horizon.

It was an intense, engulfing wave that seemed to momentarily still the world around you. The sensation was as if a veil had been lifted, connecting you to Rhysand in an indescribably profound way. It felt as though your very souls had reached out and intertwined creating a bond that pulsed with life and energy.

"What... what was that?" you gasped, lowering your sword as you looked up at Rhysand, your heart pounding not from exertion but from the shock of the unexpected connection. The air between you seemed charged, heavy with a significance that you struggled to comprehend.

Rhysand’s eyes met yours with a spark of recognition and perhaps something akin to relief flashing across his features. His stance softened, and the world seemed to resume its usual pace, but the atmosphere remained changed. It was thick with the newfound awareness between you.

"That," Rhysand said softly. His voice steady yet filled with a warmth that echoed the sensation in your chest, "was the mating bond. It's rare, profound. A connection of souls that can occur between two individuals. It seems it has chosen to manifest between us now."

His words sank in, each one laden with meaning as you tried to process the enormity of what had just occurred. The bond, this deep and intrinsic link, had unveiled itself without warning. It aligned you with Rhysand in a way that went beyond mere physical presence or shared goals. It was as if a part of you had known him, deeply and irrevocably, for much longer than you physically had.

The weight of his confession hung in the air. Heavy with the realization of how deeply the bond affected him from the very beginning. “You mean, we’re..." you started, the reality of his words slowly sinking in.

"Mates," Rhysand confirmed gently. "Yes. And while that might mean many things, know this—you're not bound by it against your will. We can explore what it means together, at your pace." The reassurance in his words allowed you to smile, feeling a genuine connection to the path unfolding before you. The bond was no longer just an abstract force. It was a tangible link between your present recovery and a future filled with possibilities.

Rhysand watched you with something akin to awe as you carefully practiced the sword techniques he had shown you. "We have all the time in the world," he said softly. His eyes never leaving yours. "There's no rush. You’re safe here, with me, with us, in Velaris."

His words seemed to only deepen the stir of emotions within you. Pausing, the sword momentarily forgotten in your hand, you met his gaze, vulnerability shadowing your features. "And... are you okay with that? A bond with me of all people?" Your voice was tinged with disbelief as though the very idea of someone like Rhysand being tied to you was something unfathomable.

The sadness that flickered across Rhysand’s face was swift, a passing cloud on a sunny day, but it was enough to reveal the depth of his feelings. He set aside his own weapon and stepped closer with his expression turning earnest. "I can't think of anything I'd want more," he said quietly while reaching for your hand to provide a tangible reassurance. "These past few weeks of getting to know you, seeing your strength and your kindness. It's not just the bond that makes me feel this way. I... I already care about you, deeply."

His confession hung in the air between you, sincere and heartfelt. The way he looked at you in that moment, his eyes filled with a gentle intensity, made it clear that his words were not merely spoken out of obligation or a sense of duty that the bond might impose. They were rooted in genuine affection and respect for the person you were.

Rhysand gently squeezed your hand, his touch warm and encouraging. "I consider myself incredibly fortunate to have this bond with you," he continued with a soft smile touching his lips as he tried to alleviate the heavy atmosphere. "You're remarkable darling. And yes, I am more than okay with it. I’m grateful."

His reassurance was spoken with such candor and helped ease some of the uncertainty that weighed on you. The bond was once a source of confusion and a reminder of your past constraints but began to feel more like a gift. An unexpected but precious connection to someone who not only promised safety but offered understanding and companionship.

As Rhysand released your hand and stepped back, giving you the space to process his heartfelt words, a sense of warmth unfurled within you. The weight of uncertainties began to lift replaced by a burgeoning sense of connection to this man who was both your protector and, unexpectedly, your confidant.

Mirroring the soft smile that graced Rhysand's lips you found the courage to voice your own budding feelings, simple yet profound. "I like you too, Rhysand," you said. Your voice carrying a tender sincerity that made his smile widen. "More than I thought I would." The admission was shy, sweet. A genuine acknowledgment of the bond growing between you both not just magically but emotionally.

His eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and happiness. The atmosphere around you charged with a gentle, joyful energy. The training session resumed but now there was a lightness to your movements. A reflection of the ease settling in your heart. The conversation with Rhysand, though brief, lingered in your mind like a cherished melody. It was a powerful reminder of the new beginnings and genuine connections now possible in your life with Rhysand and the Night Court. A life that was slowly but surely becoming your own.

As you navigated through each day your confidence grew and the tapestry of your new life in Velaris began to weave itself more vividly. Each encounter, each lesson with Rhysand, and every quiet moment spent under the stars of the Night Court fortified your sense of belonging. These experiences were threads in a vibrant, ever-expanding fabric, each one adding strength and color to your life.

One evening as you stood beside Rhysand on the quiet sanctuary of your favorite balcony overlooking Velaris, you felt a calm certainty settle over you. Below, the city sparkled. A tapestry of light and life that seemed to pulse with the same vibrant energy that now flowed through your veins. Rhysand's gaze was fixed on the horizon, the soft glow of the city lights casting shadows across his strong features when you turned to him ready to voice the thoughts that had been crystallizing in your mind.

"You know," you began. Your voice steady and clear, "I've spent a lot of time thinking about what all of this means. The mating bond, this new life, everything."

Rhysand turned to you with his expression open and attentive. The bond between you hummed softly. It was a growing and comforting presence at the back of your mind.

"I've realized that this bond... it's not just a tie to you. It's a connection to myself. To a life I didn't think was possible," you continued. The words flowing more freely than you expected. "I accept it, Rhysand. Not just accept it… I'm grateful for it. For you."

A slow smile spread across Rhysand's face. That beautiful smile you were slowly coming to cherish. "I can't tell you what it means to hear you say that," he said as his voice was thick with emotion. "You've become a part of this world. A part of my world in a way I always hoped but never dared to expect."

Encouraged by your acceptance and the growth you had shown Rhys felt that the time was right for a significant next step. As the days progressed and you continued to integrate more deeply into the fabric of the Night Court he planned an upcoming evening that would mark a new chapter in your life. The occasion was chosen with care. Not rushed but timed perfectly to coincide with your readiness to meet new faces and embrace the wider community of the Night Court. It was a testament to your journey thus far and a celebration of the future you were building together.

With the day finally set, a gentle breeze whispering promises through the halls, the stars above Velaris began to unveil themselves in the twilight sky. The air was charged with a sense of anticipation. Rhysand who was usually the epitome of composure carried a subtle excitement mixed with nerves as he prepared to introduce you to Cassian, Azriel, and the rest of the Inner Circle. This evening was not just another night. It was a milestone, a true celebration of your integration into his world and the bonds you would soon form with those closest to him.

You had spent the afternoon with Feyre who had helped you select a gown for the evening. The dress was a deep shade of midnight blue and adorned with silver threads that mimicked the starlit sky of Velaris. It perfectly embodied the essence of the Night Court. As you descended the grand staircase the gown flowed around you like a night shadow brought to life.

At the base of the steps Rhysand waited. His usual composure shaken as he caught sight of you. The world seemed to pause, his breath caught in his throat, his heart raced rapidly. There, in the soft glow of the House of Wind you looked not just a part of the Night Court but as if you were its very spirit. The realization that you were his mate, utterly beautiful and resplendent in the regalia of his court, struck him with renewed force.

Rhysand who was ever mindful of the boundaries and comfort of those around him had been particularly cautious about not overwhelming you with the intimate connection that mind-speaking entails. Despite this, the sight of you this evening descending the grand staircase dressed for the event was simply too much for him to resist. The gown you wore reflected the starlit sky of Velaris and accentuated your presence. It made you seem as ethereal as the city itself. Overcome with admiration, he reached out with his mind. "You look breathtaking, darling," his voice echoed in your thoughts for the first time in a while, startling you slightly with its warmth and closeness.

The mental whisper drew a surprised laugh from you. A sound that delighted him to no end. Rhysand's smile broadened. His eyes twinkling with mischief as he observed your reaction. "I see we still need to work on your shields, won't we?" he added playfully. His tone warm and teasing. It was moments like these he cherished deeply. Ones that always kept you on your toes. A trait you’d come to love about him.

Blushing slightly at the intimacy of his mental caress you couldn't help but respond in kind. Your newfound boldness surprising even yourself. "Perhaps I left them down on purpose Rhysand," you flirted back. Your mental voice a soft murmur that only he could hear.

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up in amused surprise. A rich laugh escaping him that resonated deeply in the space around you. "Is that so? Well, in that case, I might have to keep complimenting you just to see what else you intentionally leave unguarded," he teased back, the affection in his voice unmistakable.

His impulsive act, born from a burst of admiration, turned into a playful exchange that highlighted the growing ease and affection between you. Rhysand quickly added sensing your enjoyment yet still cautious of overstepping, "Apologies if that was too much, but seeing you tonight, I couldn't help myself."

This flirty banter, interwoven with moments of laughter and shared glances, underscored the deepening connection between you both. Even as Rhys continued to respect your boundaries. He also found joy in these light-hearted exchanges, each one building upon the last. You couldn't help but smile, feeling a mix of amusement and warmth from his words. This gentle mental whisper was another sign of how your relationship with Rhysand was deepening, weaving together both profound moments and light-hearted banter.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs Rhysand gently took your hand helping you to navigate the last step. His presence was comforting and his proximity a reminder of how much had changed between you. The grandeur of the staircase faded into the background as you focused solely on him.

You couldn't help the smile that danced across your lips, nor the lightness in your heart from his words. "No need to apologize, Rhys," you responded. Your voice a blend of amusement and reassurance. "I quite liked it. It's... nice, hearing your thoughts sometimes."

"We’ll make quite the team, you and I," Rhysand said, his voice now audible. A soft yet clear tone that carried through the grand space. "With or without your shields up, darling."

The playful banter that had begun in the privacy of your minds seamlessly flowed into the verbal exchange adding layers to your communication and highlighting the ease and comfort developing between you both. As you looked up into his eyes, still sparkling with that same affectionate mischief, you felt that profound connection. The bond was not just magical but deeply personal, spanning the quiet thoughts shared in whispers and the words spoken in the open.

This moment, under the soft lights and the eyes of the Night Court, solidified something essential between you and Rhysand. A partnership built on mutual respect, affection, and a delightful undercurrent of flirtation that promised many more such exchanges in the days to come.

Rhysand led you through the lush, starlit gardens of the Night Court where Cassian, Azriel, and others from the Inner Circle awaited. As you approached the atmosphere was charged with an understated anticipation. Both Cassian and Azriel rose to greet you both their expressions blending curiosity and respect.

Cassian's greeting was robust yet heartfelt. "Rhys didn't prepare us for someone quite so captivating," he remarked with a friendly nod. His tone genuine and devoid of any overstatement. His smile was infectious. He quickly added in a more casual tone, "And I hear you're as quick-witted as you are graceful. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Azriel who Rhys described as more reserved offered a calm nod. His deep-set eyes thoughtful as he assessed you with a discerning gaze. "Welcome to the Night Court," he said. His voice soft yet carrying a warmth that invited trust. During the evening as you engaged in a discussion about the strategic intricacies of the court’s defenses Azriel's respect visibly deepened. Later, he quietly shared with Rhysand, "She has a keen sense for the nuances of strategy. You've chosen well. She’s not just impressive in demeanor but in intellect."

Throughout the evening laughter and substantive conversations filled the garden. Cassian's heartier chuckles complemented your more measured humor. While Azriel engaged you with discussions that tested your insight into the court’s history and its future.

Rhysand watched these exchanges with a sense of deep satisfaction. The way you engaged with his friends. Not just with politeness but with a genuine interest and understanding solidified your place among them. Cassian’s easy camaraderie and Azriel’s quiet approval spoke volumes of their acceptance.

As the night progressed under the expansive, star-filled sky of Velaris your initial sense of being an outsider slowly dissipated. You found yourself woven into the evening’s tapestry as seamlessly as the shadows melded into the night. Each shared story, each moment of laughter, helped stitch you further into the fabric of this vibrant community.

Standing there among new friends you experienced yet another profound shift within. With Rhysand at your side and the bond between you growing stronger by the day you realized you had discovered much more than a haven. You had found a new family, a purpose, and a place where you truly belonged. The night ended not just with a feeling of contentment but with a renewed sense of anticipation for the future.

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[yoonia]

Ever A Never After: Act 1

⟶ Chapter Summary | It feels like a dream come true. Prince Charming comes to the rescue, and then he is suddenly proclaiming his love to you. The promise of your happily ever after is suddenly within arm’s reach. Yet sinister ploys are at play, coming in the way of your happy ending just when you are merely a step away from reaching it

⟶ Title | Ever a Never After (adaptation from Enchanted movie) ⟶ Pairings | Jungkook x female reader; Seokjin x female reader ⟶ Genre | Strangers to lovers!au, Fairy tale retelling!au, Rom-com ⟶ Word count | 19,688 words ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | PG-13, +18 / M for future chapters; slow burn, black magic, curses, fantasy beasts/monsters, fantasy violence, fantasy weapons, mentions of (possible) characters death, blood, self inflicted injury (pretty harmless, no weapons are involved in this part), sudden wedding proposals, coercion, hypnotism, betrayal. ⟶ Special thanks to my beta readers, @downbad4yoongi, @theodea

⟶ Story Masterlist: Ever A Never After | next chapter ⇢

⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Feedback | Ko-fi | Music companion

⟶ Special Taglist: Ever A Never After

Once upon a time, in a magical kingdom known as Andalasia…

A place where each story ends with happily ever afters and a dream can become reality with one simple wish. Ruled by the powerful Sorceress Queen Rosalyn, who reigns the kingdom with her iron fist, steel heart, and enchanting spells, the kingdom prospers with riches and an abundance of good fortune. 

Magic exists in this place as the main core that holds the entire kingdom together. 

It protects the people of the kingdom from the evil forces lying in wait within the shadows. Magic also brings light and joy to the people of the kingdom, opulence and prosperity to the land, allowing Andalasia to bloom magnificently for the past century among other magical kingdoms within the realm.

With magic, the people of the kingdom—even those who aren’t mages or sorcerers—are able to have a strong connection with the surrounding nature. The blessings of magic spreads through the land, providing crops and provisions for the people throughout the year. It also spreads through the waters flowing from the mountains and all the way to the open sea, enriching the land, the towns and the vast farmlands within the kingdom’s territories. 

The blessings of magic also allows the humans and the creatures of the wild—the animals and fairies—to speak in the same language. Allowing all part of the kingdom to live in harmony and peace under the same sky. 

But just like two sides of a coin, magic has another face that the people despises the most; dark magic, with its evil spells and curses, which often draws in malicious forces and lures the beasts and monsters that would pose a threat to the kingdom. 

For years, the mighty Sorceress, Queen Rosalyn, has managed to protect the people by using her powers. Yet dark magic has always been powerful. Enough to continue existing in the darkest places of the kingdom, hiding in the shadows, waiting in the crevices of the land for anyone who would be strong enough to wield and harness it. 

There is only one kind of magic in Andalasia that is strong enough to defeat these dark spells. 

Stronger than the magic that the Queen possesses and casts to rule the kingdom and its people. The most powerful magic that everyone holds out their hopes, dreams, and wishes for. The one that everyone most desperately seeks, no matter what risk they would take to find it. Even the animals and wild creatures of the woods would sing praises about it between the breezing wind, while people within the kingdom would write fables to commemorate its existence.

It is the magic mostly known as the true love’s kiss. 

Ever since you were just a little girl, you have heard many stories about it. From the tales that had been written in the books and scribes about the magical moments that are shared by those who have embraced their happily ever afters with their true love’s kiss. 

Once you become old enough to understand all there is to know about the magic made possible with true love’s kiss, you begin to feel a deep sense of yearning growing within you. A desire so profound to find your own happily ever after, and to find someone that you could share your true love’s kiss with. This desire has filled your thoughts and dreams, always keeping you wishing and praying for the opportunity to look out to the world so you can find it for yourself. 

And last night, after a seemingly long wait, fate itself has decided to answer your prayers by sending you a wonderful dream. A dream filled with signs telling you that your wish may soon come true. 

What you saw in your dream was everything that you had always pictured to happen. It got you feeling elated, hopeful, and it had woken you up with the strong desire to immortalise it while you had the chance to. 

The sun was barely up when you first opened your eyes, yet there was no way you could remain idle, no matter how comfortable it would have been to stay in bed. Your energy was already high, pushing you to start working on bringing the key piece of your dream into reality while it is still fresh in your memories. 

An hour or so has passed since, and you have been moving around your quaint bedroom, bringing with you scraps of fabrics, ribbons, and various other raw materials that you managed to gather from the garden before the sky grew bright. The rapid thrum of your heartbeat becomes the music you hum to while you carefully combine the materials, pinning each piece onto the wooden mannequin standing in the center of your bedroom—the same mannequin you would normally use to create your pretty dresses.

Except instead of displaying a dress, the wooden mannequin has been set up to display your newest creation. These beautiful scraps of fabric that you have collected and formed together aren’t meant to be any piece of clothing that you might be wearing later once the season changes, but to bring the object of your dream—the object of your deepest desire—to come alive. 

As your creation is slowly forming into its final shape right before your eyes, you feel a rush of enthusiasm and joy brewing inside your chest. A feeling that you share with your busy little helpers that have been moving in tune with you from every corner of the room. 

Their presence has become another reason why you are so full of energy this morning. They are the true blessing that had come from the forest, lured by the sound of your voice as you were singing the wistful tune of your aspiration the moment you woke up from your deep slumber. 

Each animal now present in the room are either having fun watching and cheering for you, or helping you with all the different tasks that they can handle. You enjoy watching your small friends following your instructions obediently while singing along with the cheerful tune you are humming while you continue to work. 

The wild hummingbirds that are usually shy and diffident are now fluttering around the mannequin, securing the ribbons that you have specifically chosen for your project. The fluffy chinchillas keep running back and forth to bring in more scraps and little accessories from your drawers to add to your creation. 

Once in a while, some more of your fluffy little fellows slip into your room. Always carrying with them the various items that they could find from the forest and the small patch of garden right outside of your cabin in case they would be useful. 

Just like the pair of wild sparrows that are flying in through your window right this moment. The sound of their cheerful chirping fills the room, drawing your attention to their arrival. “Here are some more leaves and fresh straws that you can use for the hair, sweet Blossom.” 

A smile is lifted on your face as they drop some autumn leaves and fresh-smelling straws from their beaks and talons into your open palms. “Why, thank you, sweethearts,” you gratefully say to them, “These should make the hair look all fluffy and soft.” 

Soft flutters rise in your chest as you lean to give each sparrow a light peck on top of their heads. A gesture that you give not only because you are feeling grateful for their help, but also for the way they are calling you with your childhood nickname in such an endearing way. 

Blossom.

Your mother had been the one who gave you the special name when you were born. It was said that the flowers seemed to blossom more beautifully the moment you came into this realm, and the nickname has stuck on you ever since. The name that is interchangeable with your birth name, and one that anyone who is close to you would often choose to call you with. 

You begin humming to yourself again as you drift back to your mannequin, pinning the leaves into the crown of the mannequin’s head. You have yet to get everything done when you hear soft voices calling for you excitedly from below. 

“How about these bronze quartz for the eyes?” A pair of white wild bunnies call out to you as they hop around your ankles. Clapping your hands with joy, you bend down to gracefully accept their gifts. 

“Oh, yes!” you squeal as you lift the pair of bronze quartzes to your eyes, loving how they glow under the bright morning sunlight. 

“How lovely, and they look perfectly similar to the eyes looking back at me in my dreams,” you delightfully exclaim to them as you attach the dark-coloured crystals to the mannequin’s face, giving it a pair of eyes that are glinting beautifully as if they are coming alive. “Those eyes looked as dark as the night sky but were glowing like twilight when I looked deeply into them in my dream, and these pretty quartz are reminding me of them.” 

Ada, the gentle deer, prances over, bumping her head against your calves to draw your attention to her. “Then how about these are some goose feathers I found at the lake this morning? Would these help too?” she gently offers as she drops the delicate feathers by your feet. 

With an astonished gasp, you bend down to your knees to retrieve it. You take a moment to marvel at them as a flutter of delirious giggle rises in your throat. “What beautiful feathers, perfect for a prince. I wonder where I should put this,” you ponder to yourself, tapping your chin as you admire the feathers’ colouring—its golden-brown gradient shade that looks luxurious, like pieces of expensive materials that you can only see adorning the fancy dresses or suits that the nobles wear to the Queen’s royal ball.

With a soft bubbling laughter, you twirl on your feet before pinning the feathers on its upper torso, and you can almost see it shimmer as the sunlight falls on them. 

“Oh, how perfect!” you marvel at the mannequin standing right before you with a sigh. Stepping back from it, you take in the result of your hard work, making sure that you have followed every little detail that has been engraved in your memory. 

“Just what exactly are you making so early in the morning? Keeping everyone busy before you even had your breakfast,” Poppy, the sassy squirrel who is also your most loyal companion, huffs curiously as she climbs over your shoulder, wanting to have a clear look at what you are creating. 

“Oh, Poppy. My dear sweet Poppy.” A dreamy sigh escapes from your lips, which only draws more confusion on your little friend’s face. “I had a dream last night.” 

“A dream?” 

“Oh yes, Poppy. A wonderful dream.” You cannot help but giggle as a giddy feeling fills your chest. You also feel a sense of longing, an odd sensation which has been plaguing you ever since you woke up from this magical dream. 

“Tell us about the dream, Blossom,” your friends chirp and sing from all around you, “Tell us!” 

With a smile, you slowly drop down to the floor cushions at the corner of your bedroom, finding comfort as you begin to share your tale, “I dreamed of a prince. A very handsome, charming, and powerful prince.” 

With your eyes on the wooden mannequin, you gesture your hand at your nearly finished work, “And he looks just like this.” 

The statuette figure that stands before you, shaped by the decorated and fully-dressed wooden mannequin, appears like the prince of your dream. Standing tall enough that you have to lift your chin up to look at it properly even while you were on your feet, the replica of the prince seems to come alive. You may not have been able to see his face as clearly as you would have liked, with how hazy that dream now seems to your mind. Yet as you run your gaze over your creation, you have to admit that you may have come close to getting at least something about him right. 

The upper frame of the mannequin is draped with a made-up attire that looks like a three-piece suit. While it doesn’t look as refined as the suit you pictured in your mind, it still looks intricate enough to resemble the fancy suits made for nobles. 

The jacket, made from a piece of wool which you once used to craft yourself a winter coat, is fitted to show the figure’s broad shoulders and trim waist. You didn’t forget to add a long tail at the back of the jacket, giving it a more sophisticated look—which you can imagine would flow prettily should the ‘prince’ walks across the room to ask you for a dance. The royal blue hue of the fabric allows the suit to stand out under the bright morning sunlight penetrating into the room. You can almost imagine it, the person wearing this jacket shining among the other people in a massive ballroom, drawing everyone’s attention just as you are unable to look away from it now. 

The golden-brown goose feathers that Ada had brought you look like golden embroideries adorning the lapels of the jacket. With a subtle sheen on them, the feathers are able to catch the sunlight perfectly as you try to look at them from different angles. 

Beneath the jacket, a waistcoat made of a matching fabric but in deep brown hugs the mannequin’s torso. Its snug fit creates an illusion of a broad and strong chest that would have filled its form perfectly as a powerful gentleman would. Various stones and crystals that you have pinned at the front of the waistcoat make up to replace the fancy buttons, and they all look almost like polished jewels against the dark backdrop as the sunlight falls on top of them. 

A pair of trousers are set up to cover the lower part of the mannequin. Using a smooth fabric that looks almost like satin, the piece of clothing looks no different than what most royals or nobles would wear in the fancy parties that you had quite a few experiences attending to. The trousers seem to have added an illusion that looks captivating to your eyes; a silhouette of a pair of legs that are long and strong, with toned muscles hidden underneath and a sturdy foundation that would display class and elegance. 

A crisp dress shirt in pristine white completes the entire ensemble. The light ruffles from the collar are peeking out from beneath the jacket, creating the illusion of the figure’s long neck. A silk tie is knotted around the throat, created from your silky scarf that has a spread of tiny blue flowers on a white background which seems like the perfect match to the dress shirt and the intricate looking jacket. 

“Yes, this is all perfect. This is how he looked like in my dreams,” you muse with a contented sigh, grateful that you were able to bring the image of your prince to life only based on the memory of your lovely dream. 

“But what did you see in this dream of yours, Blossom?” you hear the wild doves chittering from the windows, no doubt asking on behalf of your other animal friends who are present here, all silently swooning over your story, “What did you and the Prince do?” 

“Oh,” you stutter as you remember the beautiful moments that you saw in your dream.

“It was so, so romantic. He was fighting this evil beast, a black dragon that was breathing out fire so hot it could burn down the entire magic forest—” you start by sharing the part of the dream that gave you a fright, drawing a collective sound of sharp gasps from everyone in the room as well as you talk about the fierce dragon who was fighting against your Prince from the top of a dark tower. 

“—and then, once he won the battle and peace was reclaimed once more, he came to catch me as I was falling from height. We locked eyes with one another and had our moment, and that was when he chose to stay longer with me, ensuring my safety instead of returning to the castle. We talked for hours, walked through the forest, and he even took me on a ride in his glowing carriage. And when evening came, once the moonlight and the bright stars came to replace the sun, he finally asked me for a dance.” 

A collective sound of dreamy sighs echo through the room, increasing the excitement you feel bubbling inside your chest. And you have yet to reach the best part of it. 

“And then? What happened next, Blossom?” the fluffy and shy badger, Brew, asks you curiously from behind the curtains, where he had been hiding while watching you have fun with his friends. 

With a happy giggle, you lean back against the cushions while keeping your eyes on your made-up Prince. “We danced, and danced, and danced all night, and right at the sound of the clock chiming at midnight, we shared one of the most magical moments ever”—you let out a long, deep sigh as you murmur softly—”with a true love’s kiss.” 

“A true love’s kiss?” everyone gasps and sighs, sharing the elated feeling that is now surging through your chest. 

“But how will you be able to have a true love’s kiss,” Poppy teases as she climbs over the right shoulder of your ‘dream prince.’ She bends and points at the empty space at the bottom of the face as she jokingly asks, “If this prince of yours doesn’t even have a pair of lips?” 

Your eyes follow Poppy’s little fingers and an astonished laugh slips out of you. “Oh, dear me! We forgot the lips!” You quickly cover your mouth before the sound of your laughter reaches outside of your bedroom, realising too late that this is still early in the day. Yet your eyes remain on the mannequin’s expressionless face. “Oh, what should we place there as his lips? Does anyone have any idea?” 

Almost immediately, your little friends begin to chirp and squeal and chitter with each of their own ideas. 

“How about some fresh flower petals?” 

“Red roses don’t bloom as much or as pretty in this time of year!” 

“Berries?” 

“How about red chilli peppers?” 

The last response makes you laugh, joined by your delighted forest friends who seem to be enjoying their time with you, just as much as they seem to be enjoying the look on your face as you are filled with happiness and joy. 

But before you can say anything to respond to their ideas, a gentle voice calls out to you from downstairs.

“________! Sweet Blossom, where are you?” the voice echoes through the small cabin, and your friends scatter to different places to take cover. Some remain, yet they choose to hide in small places, while others jump into safety right out the window. The voice continues, “I know you’re awake. I can hear you singing from all the way down here.” 

“Oh, it’s Grandmother!” With a stifled laughter, you rise to your feet and rush to move. “Quick, help me hide this.”

Grabbing a blanket, you bring it to the mannequin, hoping that you would be able to cover it in case your grandmother ever decides to walk up to your bedroom. While it may not cause you any trouble should your grandmother ever finds out what you have been up to all morning, you know that she would only worry once she sees the ‘dream prince’ standing in your bedroom. 

You don’t even want to try and imagine what your grandmother would say, or what kind of look that she would give you if she ever hears why you are using your working mannequin to create your own Prince Charming. 

“Get your head out of the clouds, dear. We have other important things to worry about and focus on. It’s not good to be dreaming too much when you’re awake.” 

That is what she would always say whenever you talk about your dreams of finding your happily ever after, or whenever you listen to your grandmother’s friends and customers about the most recent gossips and tales from the kingdom. 

“Blossom, quick!” Poppy’s voice snaps you out of it, as she and the rest of your remaining forest friends begin to pull on the other side of the blanket to help you cover the mannequin. 

Once it is perfectly hidden, you pull yourself together and turn away, only making one last glance at the now-covered ‘dream prince’ before making your way downstairs to see your grandmother before she starts calling for you again. 

“I’m coming, Nana!” 

The place that you call home is nothing more but a small wooden cabin located deep in the woods, right at the heart of the Amaranth Forest. Located quite a distance away from the Queen’s castle, your home serves as a place of solitude, away from the bright and bustling life of the kingdom.

This is where your sweet grandmother has raised you all on her own ever since you were a young child. You may have no recollection of your parents, being so young when they were gone. But everything in the cabin serves as the reminder of their existence. From the pictures that are being hanged on the walls and placed on the mantle above the fireplace, to the small trinkets that they left behind, each one holding pieces of their memories for you to remember them by. 

Growing up without them, you barely felt the weight of their absence. To every void formed by the lack of their presence in your life, your grandmother fills it with her overflowing love and beautiful memories. Being under her care allows you to live with happiness and joy, as she continued to make sure that you could live your life to the fullest. She has also taught you to remain grounded, to be able to build your own life without losing your focus or getting lost in your dreams. 

And there are also your friends from the forest, the wild animals that would often come to visit you whenever you are in need of company. They have kept you from feeling lonely, whether during the good days, but more so on your darkest days. The same way they are keeping you company right this moment, as you are trudging along the woods to finish the day’s errands which your grandmother had sent you out to do. 

“I’m making breakfast for both of us before I will have to leave to the shop downtown,” she said once you joined her in the kitchen earlier when she called for you to come downstairs, “But I need help getting some ingredients from the gardens and the groves. I would go myself, but my knees have been bothering me. Will you be a dear and fetch them for me?” 

There was no way you could have refused your grandmother’s request. Not when you saw the look on her face this morning when you first came down from your bedroom. 

The dark pockets under her eyes have been more obvious as of late, so have the lines of age marring her skin. You cannot remember seeing your grandmother so tired and weary as she did today, but she has always known to hide her exhaustion well. Even if it means having to force a smile on her face just to stop you from worrying about her as she continues with her day. 

Still, it doesn’t stop you from wondering if there is something for her to be wary about. The thought follows you as you are gathering all the ingredients needed—the wild mushrooms from the nearby woods and some fresh vegetables from the small patches of gardens that your grandmother has been tending to.

Perhaps your worries have been written so clearly on your face, because the moment you announced your leave after seeing your grandmother, your animal friends immediately insisted to come with you. And you are grateful for their company. Because despite having these worrying thoughts filling your mind, you still find yourself enjoying your time in the open with them around to entertain you.

It is also a blessing that the weather is nice this morning.  

The sun feels warm on your skin, while the canopy of trees above your head are keeping you safe from the rising heat. Small birds are flying between the trees above you while accompanying your walk with their melodic tune. You also have Poppy joining you, as she is perched comfortably on your shoulder when she isn’t jumping around to help you plucking out fresh ingredients from the ground. 

The wild bunnies and Brew the badger are also there, jumping all around you as they follow you through the woods. Even Ada is following you close, as she acts like a guide before she will be making her way to the river to continue her morning stroll. 

After quite some time has passed, and almost all of the ingredients that you needed have been gathered, your friends begin to remind you of your ‘dream prince’ once again when their constant teasing continues. 

“Now that we have everything that your Nana needed, shall we go around to look for the perfect lips to give your dream prince?” Poppy suggests as she places the last piece of the potatoes into your basket.

“Oh, my! I almost forgot!” You gasp, and immediately, all the delightful feeling you had earlier returns to you tenfold as you remember about your Prince Charming. “You’re right! Now that we’ve gotten everything, we should continue with our mission to find the Prince’s lips. We do have some time left before Nana has to go to open the shop for the day.”

After sharing a quick discussion between you and your friends, everyone decides to follow Ada to the nearby river where she always does her morning stroll. Arriving there, she leads you to the thick bushes where the wild berries always grow during the season. The luscious shade of crimson from the fresh berries looks perfect, just the shade that you were searching for, and it makes you feel even more enthusiastic about finishing your creation. 

Seeing the look on your face, Poppy rolls her eyes and makes a tutting sound. “Oh, Blossom, do you think that your dream boy truly exists?” she wonders out loud. 

“Oh, I’m sure of it,” you simply answer, feeling optimistic about it still as you carefully pluck the berries and slip them into your basket. “If he could come into my dreams, then he must be out there somewhere.” 

“Where?” Poppy teasingly asks as she dramatically begins looking around, peering through the woods to find your prince. 

Rolling your eyes back at her, you simply laugh at her antics. “He could be anywhere. He might be somewhere within these woods, getting lost between the thick trees while he is making his way to find me. Or he could be on the other side of the mountains, fighting off dragons and monsters to claim as his prize while proving himself worthy before winning my heart and sweeping me off of my feet.” 

With a sigh, Poppy shakes her head at you. “Oh, _______. I think your grandmother was right when she said that you have your head up in the clouds. Remember to get back to the ground before you fly too high.” 

You can only smile as you recall your grandmother saying the same thing; that you have always been dreaming even when you are awake, and that you always let your imagination run too far, when your mind is filled with all the wishful thinking you have about finding your happily ever after. 

You can understand why she would feel so worried about you, wondering if one day you would find it hard to face reality with how much you keep dreaming about your happiness. Even though it had been your grandmother herself who made you believe in happily ever afters in the first place. 

“Your parents had their happily ever after. That was how you came into this world, and why they are still together now. Wherever they may be,” you heard her speak one time while she was lost in thoughts, soon after she was done telling you all the tales about happy endings and finding true loves. 

It wasn’t often for your grandmother to talk about your parents. Except for the rare occasions where she would tell their stories, about how they met and fell in love, and how their happily ever after made it possible for you to be born. 

She would always wear a look of longing in her eyes whenever she talks about your parents. Although it would always be accompanied by sadness and hurt — the emotions that are constantly written so vividly in her face. It has always made you feel hesitant about bringing up your parents when you talk to her. But there is something in the way your grandmother tells what little tale she has about your parents’ love story and happily ever afters that continues to bring you hope. It makes you wish that the kind of love they had does exist, and that you may one day find it.  

Sighing to yourself, you embrace the blissful feeling that you have each time you recall parts of your dream which makes your heart flutter. The more you think about the dream, the more you refuse to believe that your dream had meant nothing at all. 

Andalasia is a land filled with magic, after all. A place where dreams come true. And you believe that the dream had been a sign telling you that your happily ever after is near. 

“I’m not going to fly off to the clouds just to find him, Poppy. Not when he might be somewhere close by,” you simply tell your friend as you finish up your hunt for the perfect lips that you are giving your made-up Prince.  

Little do you know that your words are merely moments into coming to reality. 

Because just as you are finishing up your errand, when you are ready to turn back home with your basket filled to the brim with fresh assortments, a commotion begins to rise on the other side of the woods. 

Oblivious to the possible danger that is coming towards you, you continue prancing between the trees, enjoying your time with your animal friends playing by your side. You start singing along to the song that they are singing about your dream prince, the true love’s kiss, and your happily ever after, unknowingly luring the incoming peril that is coming to find you as the sweet tune of your voice echoes through the deep forest. 

On the other side of the woods, beyond the steep hills covered in thick clusters of trees, the sound of a deep, feral roar echoes through the vast woodland.

Gone is the peaceful morning, and the entire forest wakes up to a sudden rising turmoil. 

The trees are shaking with the echoing roar while the ground is rumbling violently, sending wild animals around to scamper away to find places to hide. Some have barely made their safe escape when the dense trees are suddenly parted, and a giant troll bursts through the thickets. 

The creature’s massive foot stumbles as he rushes through. Avoiding the trees and boulders that are getting in his way seems like a struggle, yet his speed has yet to falter even when he can barely stay upright in his hasty run. It isn’t so much of the obstacles that appear on his path that are making it hard for him to run across the woods, but more because of the remnants of the broken restraint still dangling around his ankles. 

As the creature continues to scramble to find escape, a white horse appears to be racing not to far behind. The sound of its hoofs hitting the ground in rapid speed adds to the entire commotion. The steed pushes forward, giving its full strength as it runs between the trees to keep up with the troll, while the rider continues to shout his commands, pushing his steed to keep giving a chance. 

Following behind is yet another man in a horse, barely keeping up with the first rider and the relentless creature running before them. 

“Sir Noah! How did you manage to let that creature escape? He’s running even faster than before!” the first rider shouts with a firm voice.

“Forgive me, Your Highness,” the man following the first rider calls out between his heaving breath. He can barely keep his composure while his darker horse seems to be struggling to maintain its speed and trying its best not to get left behind. 

“I was sure that I’ve tied the monster’s hands and feet as strong as I possibly could. I merely step aside to, ugh—” the man gets his breath knocked out of his chest as his steed leaps over a fallen tree, “To rest my old man’s back and all of a sudden, the rope on his hands snaps, and he just rose to his feet and began running.” 

The man stops shouting to catch his breath while trying his hardest to control his loyal horse. Both himself and the horse that he is riding are old and withered, not as young or as strong as the Crown Prince who is riding ahead with his massive white horse. They have all been running and working on the hunt since the break of dawn, yet the horse has yet to show any signs of exhaustion. It doesn’t seem to be losing its strength, just as the Prince’s stamina has yet to falter even when he was the one to fight the creature to its submission less than an hour ago.

“It was the voice!” The man, Sir Noah, manages to scream out once he has his breath steadied. “There was a strong breeze coming while the troll was tied down, and I swear I heard a voice coming with the wind, a voice that sounded so beautiful. Like a birdsong. Perhaps the voice enchanted the troll to gain its strength!”

“Then we must find the source of that voice to stop the troll!” the Prince shouts back, still with vigour that has yet to fade.

“But, Prince—” Sir Noah tries to shout to stop him as the Prince rides ahead, speeding faster away from him. “Prince Jungkook, wait!” 

To Sir Noah’s surprise and disgruntlement, the Prince seems to find joy in this entire predicament as he laughs and shouts to his horse to pick up speed right as the troll stops struggling in his run. “Go, Onyx! Don’t lose him!”

“No, Prince! Your Highness, you need to stop before you hurt yourself,” Sir Noah continues to shout, although his voice is slowly fading as he is beginning to lose his breath once more. 

“No, I won’t. I can do it! I know I can!” Jungkook continues to shout back, almost like he is chanting to himself with pure confidence as he leads his horse to keep its steady pace through the thickets. “I’ve had him before so I can’t give up now.” 

Sir Noah has lost track of time and distance, unaware of how far they have gone since the troll started making his escape. All he can see around him are trees, more trees, a couple of small hills to run over before the land opens up to a small meadow that fades into another part of the forest that is just as dense as where they first started this intense chase. He cannot help but blame himself for his recklessness, even more so as he watches in horror the moment the troll jumps off of a small hill to cut more distance to wherever he is heading to, with the Prince’s horse making a huge leap right after.

“No!” Sir Noah screams out, before his voice turns to a loud screech when his horse follows its younger counterpart to jump off the hill in his shadows. “Lord have mercy!” 

“This is so much fun!” Prince Jungkook shouts with a boastful laugh, completely disregarding Sir Noah’s fright. The excitement that is palpable through his voice only makes Sir Noah’s stomach drop. 

“No, this is not fun, Prince Jungkook!” Sir Noah yells out of frustration before groaning, “Oh dear, the Queen is going to have my head for this.” 

Before he can say more, the previous sound that he heard through the wind is starting to reach him again. He can tell that they are getting close to the source. Close enough for him to listen to the alluring tune that has been calling for the troll more clearly and identify it as a female voice, singing to the animals and the forest, and his fear escalates further. 

Oh yes, there is no doubt that the Queen will have my head for this, Sir Noah wonders to himself as he straightens up and clutches at the horse’s reign tightly to keep it steady. He knows that he is only going to put the Prince in danger, but Sir Noah has no other choice.  

“Your Highness! It’s the voice! The troll is after the one who is singing this melody!” he starts shouting at the Prince, who now has his eyebrows furrowed with deep focus, growing concerned with Sir Noah’s pleading words. 

“Prince Jungkook, you must hurry and stop him before he gets to the singing lady!”

“There you are, sweet little Princess. Such pretty voice. Pretty enough to eat!” 

For a moment, you cannot comprehend what is actually happening. 

One minute, you were walking between the bushes and the flower beds, admiring the wildflowers blooming under the morning sky while humming to the birdsong echoing through the woods. And then, suddenly, the lovely birdsong stopped, the forest fell quiet, and your animal friends became so agitated that their cheerful chirps and giggles faded to whispers. 

The next thing you knew, your peaceful moment with your friends was broken when the ground you were standing on began to quake, the trees up the hill began to shake furiously before they parted, and a giant troll burst through the thickets. He spoke with broken dialect and a menacing tone of voice, followed by an eerie roar coming out of his mouth as he started barrelling his way towards you. 

At first, there is nothing that you can do except to remain frozen. You are too stunned to move, unable to react as you watch this monster running straight towards you. It is also baffling to see that the creature is doing it while screaming and looking so happy about eating you. 

“_______! Snap out of it!!” Poppy suddenly screams, snapping you out of your daze. “We need to run. Now!” 

With a gasp, you hike up your skirt and quickly turn away. “Run, everyone!” you shout at your friends who immediately scatter to find their escape, while you struggle to run the opposite way to confuse the creature. 

Although it doesn’t seem like your effort is needed, because the troll seems to have set his eyes on you and you alone, as none of your fleeing companions catches his eyes and he is still running to get you. “Why is it chasing me?”

“I don’t know, but keep running!” Poppy continues to scream, still perched on your shoulder with her claws sinking into the fabric of your dress as she holds on tightly. 

Normally, you consider yourself quite a runner. There have been times when you would run in the woods, racing against Ada or the wild hares that would often hang out by the lake just for fun. Sometimes you would run with the fairies, even if only to see if you could outrun those who have magic on their side to give them speed. 

Yet for some reason, running seems like a struggle as you try to escape the giant troll that seems so engaged in the thought of grabbing you with its filthy hands. You feel as if there is some weight slowing you down, forgetting the fact that you have a basket filled with assortments hanging in one arm while your long skirt is dragging you back. 

“The basket! Leave it!” Poppy yells at you once she realises that you are struggling and notices the reason why. 

“But it’s for Nana!”

Poppy growls—actually growls—in response. “There’s not even going to be any part of you left to bring them home to Nana if you get freaking eaten by that—that thing!” 

As you take a quick glance over your shoulder, seeing how close the giant beast is getting to you, you realise that Poppy is right. At the corner of your eyes, you see the cluster of narrow trees leading up the hill and aim for it to find your escape, hoping that you can shake him off on a rising terrain. 

It’s going to be a struggle running up the hill, yet your gut feeling tells you that it’s worth the effort. So you make a run for it, clutching the basket tightly to your chest to keep it safe until you can find a place to hide it. 

As you slip between the narrow opening between the trees, you can hear the troll having a hard time following your trail without breaking and getting stumbled by them. You keep running, getting out of breath as you reach the top of the hill, and soon the cluster of trees opens up and grass gives way beneath your feet. 

“We’re running out of trees!” Poppy screams, getting a good grasp of what you have been planning to do. 

“No, we’re not! We’re almost there!” you yell back at her with gasping breath, and with your eyes set on your destination.

Right there. 

Right before your eyes, there stand the twin old elm trees that have grown nearly doubled the height of the hill, with massive branches spreading out to look like two giant canopies of leaves covering the top of the hill. Situated right between them is a massive boulder, firmly standing like the crown of the hill and you have decided — sometime between the hysteria of seeing a troll in this part of the forest and the terror of knowing that he is hunting you — that this place would serve you perfectly in your escape. 

Because that boulder marks the end of the hill, and there is nothing else but a massive drop of cliff with rocky walls and the rough stream waiting below. 

“Hold on, Poppy!” 

Your warning is barely enough to get your friend to tighten her grip on your shoulder when you hop over the boulder, using it to dodge the troll’s hand as he tries to swipe you off the ground. Tossing the basket to the side of the boulder with the hope of keeping it safe until later, you plant your hand on the rock’s surface and swivel around, using it as leverage to switch your direction right before reaching the very edge of the precipice and evade the troll as you roll to the left. 

“Aahhh, Blossom!” 

“Stop running and let Troll catch you!” the troll roars as he fails to grab you, and his voice grows louder, shifting into a pained roar the moment he loses his balance and trips over the boulder. 

Seeing this, a victorious squeal almost escapes your lips. But before you even get the chance to celebrate the success of your escape scheme, you notice too late that your ploy isn’t going as planned. 

“Oh, bollocks!” you cry out when you realise that the troll has fallen a bit too soon. 

Instead of being thrown off the ledge as you had expected he would after tripping over the boulder, the troll is sprawled on top of the rock, with one hand holding on the edge to stop him from falling over. And the troll—although fallen over and is struggling to push himself up—is still determined to grab you. 

Adding salt to your wounded pride, you seem to have also failed to measure the beast’s size. Even sprawled at an odd angle, the troll’s limbs are still long enough to reach you. Sliding back on the slippery rock, you try to put some distance between you, just in time for his massive hand to swipe over the rock, missing the hem of your dress merely inches away. 

In desperate need of escape, Poppy jumps off your shoulder just as you are getting off-balance and nearly falling over the ledge instead. You watch breathlessly as Poppy starts climbing up the tree rapidly in her panic while you feel like you cannot move. 

“Come on, ________!” 

Once again, her voice snaps you out of it, and you begin to follow suit, seeing that there is no escape now with the troll blocking your way back down the hill and the long drop down the cliff walls waiting for you on the other side. Right as you start climbing up the trees, you sense the troll struggling to rise beneath you. Climbing up takes quite an effort when you are in your summer dress, but all the shenanigans you got yourself into growing up may have taught you enough how to climb up quickly. 

From the corner of your eyes, you see the troll rising back up to his feet. Wobbling and swaying around as he tries to find balance over the rocky slip beneath him. But you barely pay attention to the beast when something else is grabbing your attention from not so far away. 

You can hear the sound of hoofs rapidly racing through the trees. You have been hearing this noise for quite some time already, you realise, coming from a distance while you were focused on trying to escape the troll. Maybe it even started at the same time the troll first appeared from that other hill, chasing the beast the best it could even though failing to catch up on time before the troll reached you. 

And now, you can hear it getting closer. And closer. 

You can almost see it, the white horse that is running through the cluster of trees to get to you. Yet your curiosity to know where this stranger is coming from and who might be riding the white horse becomes a distraction, causing you to make another mistake. 

You start to climb over the nearest long branch that looks strong enough to withstand your weight, hoping that it can keep you away from the troll’s reach. Yet you cannot help but keep throwing quick glances over the line of trees, hoping to see this stranger who is racing towards the foray instead of running away from it. 

That is how you miss your footing. 

Within a blink of an eye, instead of perching securely on the branch, you find yourself dangling desperately onto it, your hands barely making it in time to find a firm hold to stop you from falling over. 

“Aaahhh!!” 

“Blossom!” Poppy calls out in panic at the sound of your scream, and she quickly races back down, grabbing onto your wrist as she tries to pull you up. Only that the poor squirrel’s effort seems futile when gravity keeps pulling you down instead of giving in. “Girl, I don’t have enough muscles for this! Pull yourself up!” 

“I’m trying!”

While you and Poppy are panicking and struggling to get you back up on the tree, the troll starts balancing himself on the boulder while humming, “Come here, pretty girl. Come to Troll’s hands!” 

You open your mouth to shout back at the offensive troll with disgust, only to have another voice shouting before you can get your voice out. 

“No! Keep your hands off of her!” 

All heads snap to look at the white horse coming out of the woods. The steed races with full force up the rising terrain. But it is the rider that manages to catch your eyes the most. His eyes look fierce with determination but also a hint of thrill as he focuses on the troll. 

As if he is having so much fun with this hunt and is eager to finish it. 

And he looks captivating as he is doing it. Even more so when he pulls out his sword, wielding it to challenge the beast that barely takes notice, as he is busy trying to grab your ankles. 

But you take notice of him. You also notice the way your heart is racing rapidly for a different reason. 

Unable to process what—or, in this case, who—you are seeing, Poppy speaks first, ”And who in the Fates’ name is that?” 

“That’s—” 

There is no way.  

Your words fail you in your shock and relief. Pure disbelief runs through you, and you almost feel your grip loosening with how astonished you are at what you are witnessing. 

Because there is no possible way for the Prince Charming himself to come and save you. Just like he did in your dream. 

“Hang on! Stay where you are!”

The thrill that Jungkook has been feeling while he was racing across the hills to chase the damn troll is slowly shifting into fright once he gets a clear sight of what is happening. He watches with wide eyes as you desperately dangle from the tree branch, your legs swinging to avoid the troll’s grasp and your hands barely strong enough to hold on. 

He noticed that you stopped trying to pull yourself up for a brief moment, distracted by his arrival. Yet his shout snaps you back to focus, and he is relieved to see you pulling up, trying your best to climb back onto the branch with the help of a—a squirrel? 

Now that he believes that you are going to be safe—even if only for a while—Jungkook focuses on the troll again. This time, he is ready to swing his sword, which reflects the sunlight as Jungkook raises his arm over his head. The strong shine is blinding, and Jungkook uses it to distract the troll and pull his attention away from you. 

“Over here, you damn troll!” he shouts with a wicked laugh that will definitely give Sir Noah another headache. 

With a feral roar, the troll turns to face Jungkook. “You again. Troll don’t want to go with you. Troll want little girl for snacks.” 

A sharp, panicked scream escapes you while Jungkook marches forward with his sword swinging. The troll fights back, bending forward with his arms swinging left and right, back and forth, between trying to grab Jungkook and stopping the sword from reaching his chest—right where he would easily be wounded. 

Yet Jungkook easily evades each swipe of hands, his white horse following his command to escape and slip away while bringing him closer. 

Except while Jungkook manages to avoid the troll’s attacks, you aren’t having as much luck. Because with each swipe of the troll’s hands and each stomp of his feet, the troll causes the tree where you are dangling on to shake and sway along with the force of his movements. And it is making it harder for you to hold on, much less to climb back on top. 

Jungkook waits until the troll is fully facing him before initiating his final attack, making haste about it before you lose your grip and fall over. With a grunt, Jungkook swings his arm back and flings the sword forward, aiming for the troll’s left chest. The sword floats in the air for a brief moment before it strikes its target perfectly. 

The troll roars in pain. His hands reach up to grab the sword—which has lodged deeply into his chest—and he staggers back, losing his balance before he falls over the ledge and starts plummeting down the cliff. 

Unfortunately, the troll refuses to fall alone. Right before his fall, he reaches out, trying to grab onto the elm tree where you are hanging from as if to stop his fall. Yet his grip never takes hold. Only his sharp nails manage to scratch the tree trunk, shaking the giant tree. 

Shaking you, until you finally lose your grip. 

A scream erupts through your lips as you start falling from height. 

You close your eyes shut during your fall, fearing the long drop and the pain that may come after. Except the pain never comes. Instead, you fall right into something that is soft and hard at the same time. 

Warmth engulfs you right away, even before a pair of arms wrap themselves around you. Whatever surface that you have just landed on is beginning to move, rocking back and forth as if it is trying to balance itself under your weight. 

You are not too sure yet if you are safe, so you keep your eyes closed shut. It doesn’t matter if you just witnessed the troll falling off the cliff, you can almost feel the shadow of his presence. As if you still have to avoid his relentless attacks. 

But then a soft voice reassuringly speaks to you, coaxing you to open your eyes, “It’s okay, Princess. I got you.” 

Slowly, your eyes flutter open. And the first thing that you see once your gaze clears out brings those flutters down to your chest. 

A pair of dark-coloured eyes that remind you of the night sky are looking back at you, glowing as if there are a million stars in them. He has a pretty face framed with strands of soft hair that have fallen in a flurry mess, perhaps from racing through the woods on his horse to get to you. 

And that pretty face seems to grow even brighter when the man, your hero, smiles at you. 

It won’t be until later for you to realise that the steady rocking you felt earlier had been the white horse’s movements, as it was struggling to adjust to your weight, while its rider struggled a little to adjust your position on his lap and control his horse until it calmed down. Yet none of it matters now. Not when you are completely entranced with his presence. 

All because it feels like you have just witnessed your creation—the dream prince statue that you worked hard on this morning—coming to life right before your eyes. 

“It’s you. The boy I saw in my dreams.” The words slip out of your lips before you can stop yourself. 

Your voice comes out as nothing more but a whisper, but there is no doubt that he can hear you perfectly. You can see it from the way his smile is growing wider. 

As if it pleases him to see you so stunned, while he takes pride in this moment when he says,

“It’s me. Your Prince Charming.” 

He winks, and your skin flushes with warmth. “I’m Prince Jungkook. But you can call me Jungkook.” 

An incredulous laugh begins to bubble its way up your throat, yet not a sound comes out of your lips as you look at him, stunned, as you are still feeling as if you are caught in a daze which leaves you speechless. It was mere moments ago when you had almost gotten trampled down and then eaten by a giant troll after all, and then he came out of nowhere, rescuing you from said troll right before you ended up getting flattened into the forest’s grounds or deep into his stomach. 

And then you suddenly found yourself falling into your hero’s lap — quite literally. And that hero turns out to be Prince Charming himself, who seems to have pride as massive as the entire kingdom of Andalasia as he speaks about himself while smiling broadly at you. 

It is quite a lot to take in, and you have no idea what to say or how to react. The only thing that you can do is to sit there, perched sideways above his massive horse with his arms holding you to him and keeping you from falling, while your gaze remains locked on the deep eyes that were similar to the ones you vaguely saw in your dreams. 

Unaware of the reason why you are stunned to silence, the Prince, Jungkook, may have misread your loss for words as fear. Because he suddenly begins rubbing your back while speaking gently to you, “It’s okay. You are safe now.”  

“Yes, thank you,” you mutedly whisper, before you finally snap out of it and realise — he did just save your life! “Oh, that’s right! You saved my life.” 

“I guess I did.” There is a hint of relief in the sound of his soft chuckle, making you wonder if he was deeply concerned with you because of your silence. “Do you live anywhere near these woods? Will you be able to return home?” 

Blinking your eyes, you turn and look around to notice how far you have gone. It’s not like you had paid much attention to where you were heading while running away from danger. 

Yet you are quite familiar with this place, recognising the twin elm trees on the top of the hill which have always been visible when you look out the windows of your bedchamber. Except the distance has always made them seem smaller than their actual size, now that you are looking at it from a closer angle. 

You are surprised to realise that you have deviated quite far from your original route, and most obviously, away from home. So surprised that you have no idea what to say to the Prince. 

He asks you again, sounding more concerned this time, even if his smile has yet to fade. “Where do you live? How about I give you a ride home?” 

Before you can answer him, a sharp gasp breaks the moment between you. Followed with a rushed, panicked voice, saying, “N-no, Your Highness. Forgive me, but you should really go back to the castle. I’m sure the lady is going to be fine without—” 

“Forgive me, Sir Noah. But I won’t be much of a gentleman if I don’t take the lady home right away and let her run home on her own after facing such peril,” the Prince says, cutting the other gentleman off before he can say more, without even looking away from you.

You, on the other hand, are shocked that you have failed to notice that there is someone else who has been there with the Prince. Too captivated with your hero’s arrival to realise it. Now, however, as you look over the Prince’s shoulder, you see an older—much older, looking at his partly greying hair and his deep scowl—gentleman on a darker and slightly older horse slowly coming up to the Prince. 

“Go back to the castle and collect some men to retrieve the troll,” the Prince continues as he pulls on the rein, ready to command his horse to start moving again. He only looks briefly over his shoulder to greet his companion with a smirk, “I’ll see you back at the castle.” 

“But wait, my Prince! Your Highness!” the gentleman shouts, yet the Prince has already ordered his horse to set off to leave this place. But not before he expertly guides the horse to leap across the boulder, giving him a chance to snatch the basket full of goods which you tossed away earlier and allowing Poppy to jump onto your lap. 

“Is everyone ready?” he asks, eyeing you as you hold your basket and Poppy securely in your arms. Without waiting for your answer, he nods and shouts an order. The horse takes off, heading downhill at a rapid pace as if it hadn’t been racing across the forest and working hard to help its master defeat the troll. 

The other gentleman, Sir Noah, tries and fails to catch up as the horse begins galloping through the thick woods. The gentleman’s voice quickly fades in the distance as he calls out to Prince Charming desperately to make him come back, “Prince Jungkook! You must not do this!” 

After reaching halfway across the forest, Prince Jungkook orders his horse to slow down, and the journey continues leisurely. It seems like he is giving his dear horse a chance to take it easy while he takes a moment to enjoy this moment of calmness. 

“This is a beautiful forest,” he muses as he looks around. You cannot help but straighten up proudly at his comment. Because you cannot help but agree with him. 

Here, away from the scene of chaos, everything feels right again. The breeze feels calming after the entire ordeal. The sound of rustling leaves above you becomes music to your ears, even though it doesn’t do much to drown the rapid sound of your heartbeat. Even the birdsong has returned. The rustling sounds in the bushes let you know that the little critters have gone out of their hiding places. 

As if peace has been restored, and the upsetting event which disrupted the entire forest has been erased from existence. 

But while the Prince is comfortably taking everything in, you find yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him. 

Feeling your gaze, Prince Jungkook suddenly looks at you. His deep, amused gaze feels so overwhelming that your face immediately starts to flush warmly. You look away when it becomes too much. 

“The other gentleman from before,” you ask with a small voice, “Is it really all right to leave him behind and send him away? He seemed—concerned.” 

Jungkook laughs. There is something wicked and naughty in the way he is smiling when you look at him again. “There is no need to worry about Sir Noah. He gets concerned of almost about everything. Mostly about me, though.” 

“Ah, I see.” 

Falling into a brief pause, you feel the tension slowly being chipped away. You realise only now that Jungkook has been using the hand that is not holding the horse’s rein to hold your waist, keeping you safe against his chest.

“So, um—Prince Jungkook?” you speak again to break the tension between you, “What were you doing in the forest this early in the day?” 

Jungkook’s eyebrows form a deep crease at your question. “The castle received news about a troll that has been going on a rampage—ruining farmers’ properties, stealing crops and livestock from those poor farmers, and threatening to loot nearby villages. Sir Noah and I left the castle before dawn to catch the troll before it could reach another village.” 

He stops with a grimace before looking at your face again. “Perhaps I should apologise. If only I had done a better job at capturing the troll and stopping it from escaping us, you wouldn’t have found yourself in such peril.” 

You wave your hand at him. “Oh, that’s all right. You saved my life, so all is forgiven.” 

The crease between his eyebrows eases when he smiles. “You said you saw me in your dreams?” 

Your eyes grow wide when you recall the way you had blurted out about your silly dream when you had just met him. “Yes, yes I did!” you nervously admit to him, before adding with a whisper, “I—think?” 

Jungkook’s grin widens as he admits, “I may have seen you in mine too, Princess.” 

“Oh, I’m not a princess. I’m just _______,” you say to him with a nervous chuckle, “Although my friends and my grandmother often call me Blossom.” 

“Blossom. Interesting nickname,” he muses, “My mother used to call me ‘her silly little rabbit,’ although I’m not quite sure what that means.” His eyebrows crease again as he thinks deeply about it, making you realise that he looks—adorable, when he isn’t focused on defeating beasts and having fun racing with his horse. 

Yet your admiration fades when you come to a jolt, realising what he meant. “Your mother? The—the Queen?” you ask him and he nods. You have many questions running through your head right now, yet you simply ask him the one thing that seems to have gotten stuck in your mind, “What did you mean that you may have seen me too?” 

With a grin, Jungkook answers you excitedly, “I might have. I don’t always remember my dreams, but I’m sure that I’ve seen you in it.” He seems sure of himself that you don’t feel any need to question it. Any doubt that you may feel disappears anyway when he is looking at you with those eyes of his, and with a smile that makes your heartbeat jump and gallop. Just like his white horse earlier, especially when you hear him say, “That’s why I know that our meeting must have been fated, don’t you agree?” 

You can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Is that so?” 

“I know so,” he confidently says as he pulls you even closer to his chest. “Our dreams have shown us that we are meant to be. That’s why, I think we should get married.” 

You let out a surprised gasp. “M-married?” The sound of your laughter erupts through the woods, drowning the sound of Poppy’s surprised screech. 

“Yes, absolutely. We can get married tomorrow.” 

The flutters that have been growing in your chest start to go wild. “To-tomorrow?!”

“Yes, isn’t that how the story goes?” he says with a wide smile on his face, reminding you of the smile that you wore all morning when you were talking about your dream prince. It seems as if you are still dreaming now, or that you have been brought back to your dream from last night when he recounts what had just transpired, making you think back about your dream. “I saved you from the evil monster who tried to harm you, swept you off your feet, and then we’ll marry in the castle, and then we’ll share our true love’s kiss—” 

Your eyes grow wide. “A true love’s kiss,” you murmur to yourself, to which Poppy turns to look at you with an expression of shock and bewilder. Yet you pay no mind to her, when you are in too much in awe, unable to believe that this is real.  

“—and we’ll live happily ever after,” the Prince continues with a beaming smile. “Isn’t that right? So why wait? What do you say?” 

You can hear your grandmother’s voice in your head, reminding you not to get lost in your dreams and to always think rationally. You can also feel Poppy’s panicked little grip on your dress and the sound of her stuttering, asking you to pay attention to her. 

But every part of your dreams—both from the one you have harboured since you were a young girl and the one you had last night—comes to drown everything to the background. This is it, you wonder to yourself, this is my dream coming true!

With an incredulous laugh slipping out of your lips, you wrap your arms around his neck and say, “Yes, let’s get married. Tomorrow.” 

Prince Jungkook joins you in laughter, neither of you noticing the way Poppy is now shaking her head rapidly in disbelief when he says, “Then I shall send the news to the castle and we will have our magical wedding by noon tomorrow.”

“Yes!” you excitedly say with a cheer, “Oh, I can’t wait.”  

Your chest is filled with joy and a flutter of nerves that it almost feels like you are about to burst. Things are happening so quickly, so suddenly, so soon. You had woken up this morning with joy and hope that came from the dream you had about your prince, believing that it was a sign from the universe. You never expected to have your dream coming into reality when the day has yet to reach past noon. 

But here you are now, looking deep into your prince���s eyes as he is taking you home for the last time, merely a step away from your happily ever after. 

Once Prince Jungkook has succeeded in bringing you safely back home to your anxious grandmother, he immediately races back to the home castle. He wastes no time making his way to the Queen’s sitting room, where he knows he will be able to find his mother enjoying her afternoon downtime. 

“Queen Mother, I have news!” Prince Jungkook calls out as he marches into the den with a wide smile on his face. There is an air of joy and pleasure following him as he comes to greet his mother. 

Queen Rosalyne was in the middle of arranging a flower bouquet when Jungkook rushed in. His excitement bounces against the walls, making her smile as she raises her head to look at her son. “News? What is it now, my Prince?” 

Jungkook is nearly breathless when he stands before the Queen, announcing proudly. “I have good news! I know you’ll be happy.” 

Holding back her soft laughter, the Queen sits back down and urges Jungkook to continue, “Fine. Tell me.” 

“I have found my true love. The one I’ll be sharing my true love’s kiss with,” Jungkook declares proudly with his arms spread wide.  

“Is that so?” Queen Rosalyne asks with her eyebrows raised. Soft laughter escapes her, while Jungkook has to hold back his own laughter when he notices that the Queen is saying the same thing as you did when he brought up the idea earlier. 

“Who is she? From which kingdom did she come?” 

Jungkook is so overwhelmed with bubbling excitement that his entire body is almost shaking. “Her name is ________, and she is from here, Andalasia.” 

“Really?” the Queen asks, though she sounds quite doubtful about it. “And where did you meet this girl?” 

“It’s actually an interesting story,” Jungkook says before he launches into a story time and shares with his mother everything that has happened since he left the castle this morning.

Starting from the reports about the troll and how he decided to depart at dawn to capture it, how he managed to defeat the troll the first time, only for Sir Noah to accidentally let the creature escape. Then Jungkook starts pacing back and forth as he enthusiastically describes how he raced through the forest to catch up with the troll, while the beast was focused on capturing you, and how he had saved you from the creature. 

“It was love at first sight, Queen Mother. Just like the kind that people talk and sing about in their songs. The kind that is celebrated in written stories,” Jungkook concludes his story as he turns to his mother. “It was fate’s work of bringing us together, so it would be right for me to take her hand in marriage, share with her the true love’s kiss, so our love can spread magic all over our mighty kingdom.” 

Silence falls between them. Jungkook feels nervous when the Queen barely shows any reaction. 

“Mother?” he asks, slowly taking the seat next to the Queen. “Did you hear what I just said?” 

“Yes, I hear you. I’m not quite sure that I heard you perfectly.” The Queen looks at Jungkook with a deep gaze, her brows furrowing when she asks him, “Did you say you wanted to—marry this girl?” 

“I did. It would only make sense. That way we can celebrate with everyone else as we share our true love’s kiss.” 

Queen Rosalyne purses her lips. She dislikes any talk about the ‘true love’s kiss,’ and she finds that she doesn’t enjoy it the most when she has to hear it coming from her own son. Yet seeing how excited the thought seems to be making him, as the Prince’s eyes are shining so brightly as he speaks about his possible marriage, and his smile grows wide, genuine, and free—something that the Queen hasn’t been able to see for a long, long time—she finds no reason to deny his wish. 

It seems so wrong to deny him happiness. If any, the Queen feels relieved that she finally gets to send him off into the world and give him a reason to stop chasing beasts and monsters throughout the kingdom. 

“Fine,” Queen Rosalyne says with a light scoff, “Have it your way. But you must deal with it all on your own. Have Sir Noah help you prepare for the feast if you wish to do this entire thing tomorrow.” 

Prince Jungkook is so elated to gain the Queen’s approval that he is practically bouncing on his feet. The Queen holds back a smile, wondering to herself, my silly little rabbit. 

She recalls how frustrated Jungkook made her when he was a child, unable to hold back his energy as he kept hopping and running all over the castle. The Queen had sniffed when she was too exhausted to catch up to him and called him out, “Stop playing like a wild rabbit and calm down,” and the nickname stuck with him—and she has used it to call him with it more endearingly—once he started growing up. 

Lost in her thoughts, the Queen is caught by surprise when Jungkook bows before her and takes her hand to kiss the back of it. “Thank you, Mother. Your Majesty. You are truly a great and wise mother. I could never repay you.” 

Queen Rosalyne is too stunned to speak. She isn’t one to get affected by emotions too easily, but Jungkook’s words seem to have stirred something inside her heart that has grown cold and frozen after so long. She says nothing as Jungkook turns to leave the chamber, leaving her with her running thoughts and the unsettling feeling that has been growing so intensely in her chest since the moment Jungkook mentioned your name. 

At the center of Queen Rosalyne’s sitting chamber, there is a small indoor garden with a small water fountain which is made of black stone. Surrounded by well-trimmed hedges of black blooming roses, patches of green grass and white cobblestones covering the ground, the water fountain becomes the center point of the space which represents serenity and solitude. 

Yet this is also the place where the Queen often practices her magic, using the secret spells that she keeps mostly to herself. She does this only when she is all alone, whether to watch over her kingdom and cast spells to protect the land, or for reasons that have nothing to do with the well-being of her people. 

By the time evening comes, the Queen often uses her spells to fulfil her secret desires. Something that she is planning to do to ease the uneasiness which has been plaguing her ever since the conversation she shared with Jungkook. 

As the day slowly shifts into dusk, and the Queen is quite sure that Jungkook has been gone long enough to be deep in arranging things for tomorrow, Queen Rosalyne summons Sir Noah into her chamber. 

“The Prince has found a maiden to marry,” Sir Noah announces upon his arrival, meeting the Queen directly in the secret garden which he has frequently visited before. 

“Yes, he had come to me this afternoon to announce his intention to marry a girl,” the Queen says, in a most calm, yet dubious tone of voice. “I’m going to assume that you have met this—girl, since I know that you were the one to join the Prince in his excursion today.” 

Swallowing hard to ease his nerves, Sir Noah nods. “I was with the Prince when the maiden, uh—fell into Prince Jungkook’s arms.” 

This has the Queen’s attention. Turning away from the black blooming roses that she has been tending to, Queen Rosalyne regards Sir Noah with her eyebrows raised. “How—romantic,” she murmurs, “And where did this chance encounter happen?” 

Sir Noah clears his throat before answering, “The Amaranth Forest, Your Majesty. It was where Prince Jungkook and I ended up after hunting the giant troll that has been terrorising the people in Sunny Brook Hills.” 

All of a sudden, the Queen’s shoulders grow tense. “Amaranth, you say?” 

The cold tone of the Queen’s voice and the expression she wears on her face draws chill running down Sir Noah’s spine. He has been working in the castle with the Queen for a long, long time. Long enough to know that she is not happy to hear the information that he just gave her.

After processing this, Queen Rosalyne rises to her feet and turns, making her way to the magic water fountain. The Queen merely stands before the fountain when the thing reacts to her presence. Immediately, the air grows cold and heavy, and it becomes even more intense as Queen Rosalyne raises both of her arms over the water fountain. 

The surface of the water ripples as a dark green light emerges from her hands, shining brightly while the Queen enchants her spell. The green light descends into the water, blending with the ripples as the mana shines in dark green. 

The Queen steps aside and gestures at Sir Noah to come closer. “Show me.”

Gulping nervously, Sir Noah comes to the Queen's side and slowly folds the cuff of his sleeve. Offering his hand, the Queen raises her sharp nails and slits the skin of his palm, causing a small wound which is enough to let a few drops of blood taint the water inside the fountain. Once the blood blends into the water, the surface ripples intensely until the green light within starts to stretch out, and images begin to appear on the water, framed by the green mana sparkling under the calm ripples. 

The Queen bends over the fountain as she is shown the series of events that happened within the depths of the Amaranth Forest this morning. Everything seems to unravel just the way Jungkook relayed it to the Queen. 

The giant troll in his escape. The Prince’s relentless chase. And the maiden who was running from the wicked troll before she finally fell into the Prince’s arms. 

The scene in the water changes when the Queen swaps her palm over the surface, turning back time to see your daily life in the small cabin with your grandmother. She can see you singing with your forest friends, and then cooking and laughing with your grandmother. 

Seeing your grandmother, the Queen’s jaw clenches with recognition.

Too nervous to remain silent, as he is unable to read the Queen’s hard expression and lack of words, Sir Noah begins to explain the events that happened this morning, “The troll was lured into the forest by the maiden’s voice, who was singing to the forest’s creatures. And right after the Prince was able to apprehend the troll, he captured her as she—” 

“How uncanny,” Queen Rosalyne murmurs almost to herself, completely disregarding Sir Noah’s rapid blabbering. 

“Y-your Majesty?” 

Straightening up to her full height, the Queen moves her hand over the water to enlarge the image that she is now seeing on the surface of the water. With a glance, Sir Noah can see a close-up of your face as you are riding on the horse with Prince Jungkook, before the image switches back to you working in the gardens with your grandmother. 

“She looks just like her. Exactly like her,” Queen Rosalyne continues to murmur gently, astonished by the sight of you—a commoner girl from the magic forest that even Sir Noah has never met before. 

“The maiden? Who are you referring to that would look like her, Your Majesty?” 

The Queen gives him no answer, and instead waves her palm over the water until the image dissolves, leaving nothing more but the calm, clear water. 

“When will this wedding take place? Has it been decided yet?” 

Sir Noah wrings his hands together with nerves. The tension has risen exponentially within the chamber. The change in the Queen’s attitude makes him wary, and he has no idea what is happening. 

“Prince Jungkook insisted on having it soon. As—as soon as tomorrow, Your Majesty. The entire castle is already in the height of the preparation for the ceremony.” 

The Queen holds back the urge to curse as she turns away, enraged, and she wipes her gardening tools off her work table. The noise and clutters and the flying objects cause Sir Noah to flinch. He has no idea what is currently going on inside the Queen’s mind and chooses to remain silent rather than risk having her unleash her rage on him.

He has witnessed what happened to those who aren’t careful with their words, especially when the Queen is losing her patience like this.

“Call it off,” the Queen suddenly speaks. Her voice has calmed down, yet there is an eerie chill in her tone which makes Sir Noah shudder in fear. 

“My-my Queen? What do you mean?” 

Queen Rosalyne turns to face him and snaps. “I’m talking about the wedding, you fool! Call it off!” 

“But-but Your Majesty, you have given your approval to the wedding,” Sir Noah struggles to speak, “The preparation is already underway. Everything is almost ready, even the Prince has gathered enough—” 

The Queen releases a frustrated snarl. Her energy erupts, and a few potted plants within the garden explode under the power of her rage. 

Deep down, the Queen didn’t think that it would be possible for Jungkook to make things happen within less than a day. The boy has always been hasty, and she has secretly hoped that he would stumble upon obstacles and give up on the idea of having a wedding so suddenly and have it postponed either way. But now—

Now it’s too late. 

When the Queen first gave Jungkook her approval to marry you, she never thought that you would be someone who would be related to her past. She should have been more careful and made sure to find out more about your identity first before she said anything. She had a feeling that something was amiss, and now she is regretting that she hadn’t been listening to her gut. 

How? How could this be?

Holding her head in her hands, the Queen chastises herself for being so reckless. Memories of her past come back to haunt her. Guilt, remorse, and hatred, all mix into one. And in her mind, everything blends together to form the shape of your face. 

The face that she wishes so desperately to forget. 

“Fine. Then I shall do it myself,” the Queen finally says with an eerie calmness in her voice. 

“My Queen? What—what do you mean?” 

Queen Rosalyne looks at her loyal aide once more and raises her chin. “I’ll make sure the wedding never happens. My son can marry, as long as it’s not with her,” she says as she slowly walks closer to Sir Noah, who can only stare at her with his eyes widening in fear. 

“And you are going to help me make it happen, wouldn’t you?” the Queen whispers to him as she gently places the tip of her finger on Sir Noah’s chin, forcing him to only look at her eyes, unable to move or look away. 

Gulping hard, Sir Noah quickly nods his head and faintly whispers, “Yes, my Queen.” 

The steady rocking of the carriage taking you to the castle should have been able to soothe your anxiety. Maybe lull you to sleep, even. 

Yet you have been too anxious that your eyes remain wide. Your hands continue to fidget on your lap and trace along your wedding dress. Not that you have no faith in yourself about the dress. But focusing on making sure that you haven’t missed a seam feels better than looking out the window and focusing on how close you are getting to your destination. 

Soon enough—much sooner than expected—the carriage stops with a jolt. The rough sound of cobblestones cracking under the wheels snaps you back to focus, forcing you to raise your head just as a royal guard opens the door for you.

“Welcome to Castle Andalasia.” 

Clutching the skirt of your wedding dress, you slowly step out of the carriage. Yet you fail to take notice of how tense your body has gotten. Your muscles have grown so stiff that your steps become clumsy, causing you to lose your footing. 

“Oh, my!” 

Barely catching yourself from falling, a nervous giggle escapes you as you straighten yourself up before anyone can step up to help. “I’m fine, so sorry.” 

The royal guard steps away, leaving you alone with your little friends who have decided to keep you company, all jumping out of the carriage to surround you. 

Standing at the castle's threshold, just a few steps away from entering through the main gate, you feel as if you are walking into a dream. There is a giddy feeling rushing through your body that is hard to shake. The urge to pinch yourself is also strong, yet there is nothing that you can do but clutch your skirt tighter until you feel pain in your palms to know that this is real. 

That you are now standing right in front of the castle. 

The castle.

The place where Queen Rosalyne resides with Prince Charming and her loyal aides. And you are not here simply to come for a formal visit like other common people would do to seek an audience with the Queen to confide about their problems. You are here today for the wedding. 

And it will be your wedding. 

It still hasn’t truly sunk in yet that you are to be married to Prince Charming. To marry Prince Jungkook, who is loved by everyone in Andalasia for his heroic actions in defeating all the beasts and monsters posing threats to the kingdom. 

Before proceeding further, you take a moment to turn around, taking one final look at yourself through the reflection you see on the glass window of your carriage. 

Pride blooms within as you look at your wedding dress. The dress is immaculate, handcrafted by your own talented hands since the moment your wedding date was made official and your loving grandmother gave her blessings. Despite her misgivings on your upcoming wedding day, your grandmother stayed up with you, assisting you as you spent all night creating this dress. 

Looking at yourself, you must admit that this dress is your true masterpiece.

The bodice of the dress is made of delicate lacework that hugs your figure perfectly while hiding your flaws. The floral patterns on the bodice represent the beauty of the forest and your lovely garden back home perfectly, intertwining and cascading down your form like fresh vines with wildflowers blooming at every tip. 

The lace, meticulously stitched by your own hands, is filled with every drop of hope and love that you harbour for the happily ever after that you have dreamed about for as long as you can remember. 

From your shoulders, down to your arms, a similar ensemble of delicate lacework covers your skin in a comforting fit, adding modesty and elegance to your dress which seems presentable for your special day at the castle.  

From the waist, the fabric flows down like a river of light, billowing into a skirt that trails down to your ankles, rippling in subtle waves with each step that you take. Layers of soft, finely crafted tulle form the skirt to create an illusion of a cloud, making it seem as if you are floating as you slowly turn and twirl to see yourself in every angle. 

Around your shoulders, a veil made of the finest gossamer falls in a delicate cascade down to your back, instead of acting like a cover to shield your face from view. You have the veil fastened to your hair, which is styled in a fancy yet simple twisted bun. Tiny pearls and crystals in different sizes and shapes are woven into the fabric of the veil, and they sparkle like dewdrops under the soft glow of the bright sunlight. 

Growing even more tense with nerves, your hands continue to clench and unclench around your dress, feeling lost with nothing else to hold on to. You wish that your grandmother had been fit enough to be here so you could hold her hand for support, yet you force that thought away, knowing that she hasn’t been well enough to travel far from home. Much less to walk you down the aisle to give you away to the Prince. 

“Stop that right now before you ruin your dress,” Poppy suddenly scolds you, slapping the back of your hands until you let go from where she is perched on the side of the carriage. 

“Here,” she says, shoving a small bouquet of flowers—filled with a collection of wildflowers, carnations, and baby’s-breath—into one of your hands while Brew, the wild badger, and the white bunnies run around the skirt of your dress as they shove a glowing tiara into your other hand.

“Put this on your head, Blossom,” they sing together cheerfully, forcing you to lean down as you accept their little gift and gently place it on the crown of your head. 

“Thank you, my sweet little angels. I don’t know what I would do without you,” you whisper with a content sigh, feeling your nerves calming down as you look at your little friends.  

Your eyes meet Poppy’s worried gaze as she sighs. “Are you really sure about this, ______?” 

Smiling at your friend, you bend down to match her gaze. You know that Poppy has been feeling unsure about all of this. She may have kept her words to herself when the two of you were on your ride home with Prince Jungkook yesterday, yet you could still sense her concern along the way. She has also voiced her concerns about how quickly everything is unfolding, yet she did nothing to stop you from carrying on with this wedding plans when you showed how hopeful and confident you were with your decision. 

Even your grandmother had been worried when you first came home with the news. Yet the Prince was there with you when he asked for her permission to marry you, which melted her heart a little that she had no other choice but to let you go. 

“I am sure. What are the odds that I was to meet with Prince Charming the morning after I dreamt about him? It was definitely a sign from fate, which I must follow if I want to find my happily ever after. Surely, you’d understand.”

You said the same thing last night, when Poppy was there to help you finish your wedding dress. The same thing you also said to your grandmother once Prince Jungkook left to return to the castle, reassuring her that fate wouldn’t have given you the signs if this wasn’t meant to be.

“I do. I’m happy for you,” Poppy says with a small smile, “But you must promise me that you’ll never leave us behind and forget about us.” 

“Never. The forest will always be my home. I’m sure Prince Jungkook is open to helping me make arrangements so I can still spend time with you,” you gently reassure her, “And for me to visit grandmother too from time to time.” 

Poppy shakes her head and shrugs. “All right, if you say so,” she says, finally giving in, “What are you waiting for, then? It’s time to go.” 

Your other forest friends who have been silent while watching you and Poppy going back and forth about the wedding are now cheering for you to go. “Let’s go, Blossom! Go!” 

Their positive energy quickly rubs on you. It helps build up your excitement. A bubble of laughter comes out of you as you feel every bit of your apprehension being chipped away. 

“All right, I’m ready!” you shout, inciting more cheers from your friends. “Let’s go watch me get married!” 

Hiking up your skirt just enough so you won’t be stepping on the hem, you turn and start to track down the pathway leading to the main gate of the castle, carrying with you a new determination and your little friends shadowing your footsteps.

At the main gate, you are welcomed by a familiar face. Standing right before the gate is Sir Noah, still looking as graceful as how you remember him. Wearing a royal suit in dark plum colours and gold linings, his greying hair neatly combed back instead of falling down his face, he looks just like any royal advisor would. 

A smile grows on his face when he sees you coming near, and you greet him with a curtsy. “It’s so nice to see you again, Sir Noah.” 

“The pleasure is all mine, Miss. Welcome to Castle Andalasia,” he says in return. As you straighten back up, you see him looking around you while looking confused. “Are you, perhaps—on your own? Do you not have anyone with you today?” 

Smiling ruefully, you slowly shake your head. “I no longer have any family other than my grandmother,” you answer with a soft voice. “It’s unfortunate that my grandmother isn’t doing well and she couldn’t travel far in a carriage.” 

Something flashes in Sir Noah’s gaze—surprise, pity, sadness, and an odd look of guilt, although you cannot understand why he would feel so guilty about hearing this—before his expression clears to normal. 

“But, there is nothing to worry about,” you cheerfully add, “because I have my friends here with me to witness this wonderful moment.” 

Sir Noah raises his eyebrows while your friends release a loud cheer. Yet Sir Noah quickly clears his throat and shakes his head. “I see. Unfortunately, I’m afraid your friends will have to enter separately. They are guests, after all, and you might need time to finish preparing.”

While your friends express their displeasure with a series of protesting sounds, you keep a smile on your face to change Sir Noah’s mind. “Oh, but—these friends can help me get ready for the ceremony,” you let out a nervous laugh as you try to convince him, “They were the ones who helped me make this dress too.” 

“And they’ve done a marvellous job,” Sir Noah smoothly says, “But I can assure you that our palace maids will be able to help you, and it will be better for your friends to simply enjoy the ceremony as guests, don’t you agree?” 

Right beside you, Poppy stares at Sir Noah with a scowl on her face. Yet she also sees you getting nervous again because of the sudden change of circumstances. That is why—reluctant as she is to leave you—Poppy masks her emotions and turns to help calm you down. 

“It’s okay, Blossom. I’m sure Prince Jungkook has ordered the palace maids to assist you. We’ll be seeing you later inside, okay?” 

Still feeling unsure, you eventually agree. “Okay,” you murmur to Poppy before turning to Sir Noah, “But Poppy will be the one walking me down the aisle in my grandmother’s place.” 

Sir Noah barely hides his displeasure this time. With his jaw clenched, he releases a sigh and says, ”Fine. That can be arranged. But you really should go now, or else, you’ll be late for your own wedding.” 

“Oh, right! Absolutely.” 

Finally, with a deep sigh of relief, Sir Noah steps aside to let the royal guards open the main gate for you to enter. “Follow this path right here to enter the royal garden, and someone will see you to show you where to go,” Sir Noah instructs you while gesturing towards the long-winded stone-covered pathway leading you towards the maze-like garden. With lines of green hedges on either side of the pathway and a wooden arch-shaped pergola covered in vines waiting for you halfway into the garden. 

“Okay, here we go,” you whisper to yourself, saying it with a clear mind as a self-pep talk before you start walking again. 

With your hands holding your skirt up, your head held high, and a long, deep breath to calm your racing heartbeat, you begin to walk down the pathway towards the center of the garden where the wedding ceremony is about to be held. 

While you keep getting further away from your friends, Poppy cannot find it in her to look away. Call it a gut feeling, but the poor squirrel feels uneasy about letting you go off on your own. But she doesn’t really have a choice now, does she? 

She is no longer in the forest where she gets to call the shots, and this shady old man next to them is the one controlling the situation. 

Poppy throws a side glance at the man who you called as Sir Noah. “So where are we supposed to go?” 

The smile that Sir Noah gives her then brings chill through her tiny body. “Come with me.” 

The group of little animals look at each other before they follow Sir Noah through a separate pathway. Here, the path is covered with a rougher kind of gravel, and the vines and hedges look more unkempt. The further they walk, the closer they huddle together in fear, while Sir Noah barely cares to soothe their worries. 

Even his warm welcome earlier has shifted. He acts more cold with the animals and is even rough when he sends the royal guards away. 

They continue to walk until an iron gate appears down the pathway. It looks a bit rusty, and Poppy has an odd feeling about all of this when she sees Sir Noah pulling out a key from his pocket. 

The iron gate creeks heavily when he opens it, causing all the animals to grimace. “You can enter through this gate,” Sir Noah gestures toward the other side of the gate, and every inch of her muscles fight back to stop Poppy from walking forward.

“Where are you leading us to?” she snaps, and Sir Noah’s expression darkens. 

“Are you insinuating that I’m separating you from the maiden?” 

Brew, now shaking in fear, innocently whispers loud enough for everyone to hear, “But this isn’t the way to the royal garden.” 

Your forest friends may not have had any experience visiting the castle, but they are wild animals from the forest, capable of telling the difference between the well-kept garden and the wild. Beyond the iron gate, the air flows differently. The grasses are thicker, and they can all smell the scent of the muddy lake from all the way here. 

“You are sending us away from the castle,” Poppy growls, absolutely pissed off that the one that you have trusted to take care of your friends is doing this behind your back. 

Sending them away from you, from the wedding, and back out there into the wild. 

“What is going on? Is _____ even safe?” 

“What are you planning to do?” 

Poppy’s little friends begin to protest once they also sense that something is wrong, while the scowl on Sir Noah’s face deepens. “Oh, bollocks. You are too loud,” he snaps. All so suddenly, he lifts a massive shovel that seems to come out of nowhere and starts swinging it towards Poppy and her friends, forcing them to run towards the opened gate before they can get hurt. 

“Now, shoo! Get out of here!” he shouts between each swing. 

Once every single one of your little friends is out the gate, Sir Noah throws the shovel away and closes the iron gate. The sound of the lock being latched back in place pierces through the animals’ chests. 

“Nooooo!” 

“Blossom!” 

Some of them begin snarling and growling, even if they are completely powerless against the tall, elegant, yet evil human before them. 

“What about Blossom?” Brew asks while shaking, both in fear and rage, “What’s going to happen to our friend?” 

Sir Noah leans down, showing his evil smirk as he peeks through from between the iron bars. “Don’t worry about your friend. We’ll make sure that she’s in good hands.” 

With his evil laugh, Sir Noah turns away, leaving your frightened animal friends behind. 

“Where is the Prince? I know that Prince Jungkook will never stand for this!” Poppy shouts in her last effort to threaten Sir Noah, only for the latter to ignore her words, and the sound of his laughter continues to echo further away before he disappears into the royal garden. 

At the depth of the royal garden, you find yourself getting lost. 

It turns out that this place is a maze, confirming your first suspicion when you first laid eyes on the winding pathway disappearing between the tall green hedges. The deeper you walk into the garden, the higher the hedges grow, and the thicker the trees and bushes around you become. The variety of flowers can’t help much to show you where you are, since everything looks the same no matter where you go. 

While worrying about not being able to find your way, you also worry about your friends. You wish you had insisted on having Poppy come with you. Perhaps then, you wouldn’t feel so alone and she could help you find the way by using her sharp senses. 

Will they be alright, you wonder as you think about your furry friends. But knowing that they are in the hands of Sir Noah gives you some peace of mind. Surely, the kind gentleman will be able to help and keep them safe. Right? 

But speaking of Sir Noah—

I thought he said that someone would come to see me and show me the way. But where are they? 

You have been walking for a while, yet there is nobody in sight. Not even a shadow of a person. It seems odd to think that the royal garden will be this empty, especially with a wedding happening this afternoon. 

Turning at a corner, you find yourself at an opening between the maze. A small gazebo is placed at the center with wooden benches inside. Your exhaustion draws you towards it, and with your eyes focused on the benches that seem comfortable for you to sit on, you don’t notice it when a movement suddenly happens from nearby. 

The rustling sound of the bushes is the only warning that you get before someone suddenly emerges from the shadows.

“Aaahh!” you scream in fear, while the figure before you quickly apologises. 

“Oh, dear me. I’m so sorry, dearest,” an old woman’s voice speaks to you, “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

Eyes still widened in fear, you look at the person before you. Instead of a royal guard or a palace maid, you are met with an old woman wearing a long dress in an earthly colour under a worn-out cloak that hangs to the ground. 

“Oh, that’s okay,” you answer with a nervous chuckle. “It’s a harmless mistake. Are you—are you from around here? I think I’ve gotten lost. I’m supposed to be at the wedding spot by now, but I haven’t seen anyone.” 

The old woman smiles. “Oh, you poor thing. His Highness the Prince should’ve done better to prepare a guard for his bride,” she complains, tsk-ing her tongue and shaking her head with disappointment. “Maybe I can help guide you there? This old hag may not look it, but I do know my way around the castle like the back of my hand.” 

Perhaps, it would have been best if you were wary of an unknown stranger suddenly offering help during dire times. Yet you are quickly reminded of your grandmother waiting back home and think nothing of the old woman who is offering her assistance so kindly. 

“Please, if you may. I don’t want to be late for my own wedding,” you answer her with a relieved sigh. 

“Excellent. Come along, then,” the cloaked woman turns and starts moving towards a different pathway with confident strides. You begin to believe that you are making a good decision then. 

“You look nervous, dear. Is everything okay? I’m sure you're excited about the wedding, aren’t you?” she asks after you walk with her for a moment longer, surprising you that she notices.

Because you are nervous. Only that it has been suppressed under your worries while you were getting lost in the maze earlier. 

“I actually am, if I must admit. Both nervous and excited,” you answer as the flutter in your chest grows wild all of a sudden. “To think that in a matter of minutes, the Prince Charming and I are going to—” your voice falters with nerves, “That we’re going to have our—” Thinking about what is going to happen causes your heartbeat to race, making it hard for you to breathe, to speak, that when you speak next, it almost feels like you are listening to yourself from a far distance away, “We are going to have our true love’s kiss.” 

It feels too surreal to think that it is finally happening. Your dreams are coming true. Even saying it out loud doesn’t seem to make it real. Stunned at how your life is changing so rapidly, you come to a halt. 

“I am most happy for you, my dear. But surely you can’t go into your wedding without going through the old tradition of the castle,” the old woman speaks again with joy—as if she is truly happy for you.

“The old tradition?” you ask, confused. Because you are quite sure that you know everything that you need to know about any kind of wedding tradition within the kingdom, and you are not sure if you are missing anything. 

“Why—to visit the magic fountain, of course,” the woman explains nonchalantly. “All brides would go to the magic fountain and make their final wish, hoping for their happily ever after before they are to wed. The fountain has magic spells, you see, to make sure that your wish is to be granted and for everything to go well until the end.” 

“My—wish?” 

“Yes. Your wish,” she says. The smile that the old woman shows you as she turns to face you brings a shudder to your skin. It is an indescribable feeling. Yet you brush it off, telling yourself that maybe your nerves are acting up again. “Do you have a wish, sweetheart?” 

“I wish,” you find yourself answering, “that we’ll live happily ever after.”

Because that is the only wish that would make sense, after all. Who wouldn’t want to find their happy ever after? While you are so close to having it, deep down, this is what you have been wishing for since you were a little girl and you want nothing to come your way from getting it.

“Then you should pray for your wish to make sure you’ll have it fulfilled, don’t you agree?” the old woman asks you in the most tempting way that you cannot find it in you to say no to. When she sees that you don’t seem convinced enough to follow her, she immediately adds, “It’s not too far from here, and it’ll take only a few seconds, so you won’t be late for your wedding. I promise.”

“You’re right,” you say to her, suddenly feeling hopeful again. “Besides, it would be wrong for me to skip a tradition on my special day.” 

“Good girl,” she says. For a brief moment, you believe that her voice oddly changes. Yet you pay no attention to it as she already begins moving—suspiciously quickly, for an old woman wearing a long, heavy cloak—through the maze again, giving you no other choice but to follow her close behind. 

It doesn’t take long before you emerge into another opening. This time, it seems like you have reached the far end of the garden, and right before your eyes stands the fountain that the kind old woman mentioned earlier. 

“Here it is, the magic wishing fountain,” she says as she steps aside, allowing you to have a good look at the fountain.  

And what you see right in front of your eyes leaves you completely lost for words.

“It’s—beautiful,” you muse softly, admiring the beautiful fountain that you have never once seen before. 

The magic fountain is placed deliberately at what seems to be the heart of the royal garden, right where the sunlight is filtered through a canopy of emerald leaves, giving it a mellow, yet romantic atmosphere. 

Surrounded by cobblestone pathways and vibrant flower beds, the water fountain stands elegantly between the wall of green around you. It is not made in a grand, ostentatious structure, but a modest creation which seems like it was naturally formed between the green hedges and lush trees, almost blending into the solid castle wall that spreads wide through the royal garden. 

The base, crafted from gleaming white marble, frames a pool of crystal-clear water which ripples gently from the center. The intricate design of the marble stone makes it seem like a bed of white flowers emerging from the ground, delicate and sturdy at the same time, instead of a stiff rock which made up the small fountain your grandmother built back home. 

The marble stone frame at the base goes all the way to the back, blending into the contrasting dark wall made of natural stones. You can vines of wild ivy growing from the top of the wall, extending down to the back of the circular pool filled with fresh water. 

The dark wall rises to the very top, where crystal-clear water cascades down from a seemingly mysterious source. To your eyes, it looks like a small replica of the natural waterfall from the heart of the Amaranth Forest, your secret sanctuary that not even your grandmother has ever been to before. 

The fountain's waterfall sparkles in a silver glow that looks ethereal to your eyes, casting a soft, shimmering light as it spills down to the pool of water underneath. The pool water also exudes a silvery luminescence that is almost blinding, yet you find yourself unable to look away. 

There is something about the fountain that keeps drawing you in. A tightness forms in your chest while you are drawn to the mesmerising sight of the water fountain that looks more like it was crafted by nature instead of manmade. It seems to be reminding you of the forest, helping you forget where you are for a brief moment and taking away all of your worries at the same time. 

The soothing sound of the trickling water feels entrancing, calming every nerve-ending, every tension in your body which has grown since you left home. 

Standing this close to it, you can almost feel it, the magic that comes from the spilling water, beckoning you to reach out for it. 

Too immersed in the water fountain and its spellbinding magic, everything around you seems to fade away. Every other sound becomes nothing but white noise, and the presence of the stranger beside you becomes nothing more but a shadow looming close by. You barely notice when she slowly begins to move away. Her voice starts fading in and out through your senses, alluring you in an oddly enchanting way.

Just like a spell would. 

At times like this, Poppy wishes that she has wings instead of these flimsy paws.

She also regrets not having her winged friends—the twin sparrows, the doves, and the little hummingbirds—with them this afternoon so she could ask them for help. But they hadn’t been pleased to make the long trip to the castle, and someone had to stay behind to watch over your sick grandmother and help her around the cabin. 

Yet she pushes aside those thoughts for now, focusing on climbing up the wild vines to reach the top of the outer walls of the castle instead. She is hoping that being high enough from the ground will help her find out where you are, to see if you are safe or if Sir Noah is putting you in harm’s way. Maybe she can also find Prince Jungkook and let him know what had happened.

Poppy has no idea what is going on and why things are turning this way. She can only hope that Prince Jungkook has nothing to do with this. However, she does have a suspicion about a certain someone who might have planned this whole thing up to ruin your and Prince Jungkook’s wedding. 

The only thing that she can’t understand is — Why? Why would anyone do this?

Poppy is out of breath when she is finally at the top of the wall. Now that she is high enough, she can see the outer area where she and her friends had been discarded to — the small lake that is surrounded by trees in various odd shapes, unkempt bushes and grass, with growing wildflowers that are scattered in all visible corners that she can see from up high.

On the other side of the walls, the garden looks like a massive maze, but way more well-maintained and luxurious — except for the small area beyond the locked iron gate that seems to be neglected compared to other parts of the garden. 

Yet Poppy doesn’t waste any more time idling by. She isn’t here to watch the scenery and marvel at it, after all. Once she manages to catch her breath and calm down, she takes one last glance and her other friends who are waiting for her on the ground and launches into a sprint, tracing the top of the wall with a steady run to find a better spot that will allow her to have a better sight of the inner garden. 

It takes a while, but eventually, Poppy can see a glimpse of your wedding dress flashing between the tall hedges. Relieved, she starts cheering to herself. She has been separated from you for long enough that anything could have happened. She keeps going, finding the right spot with the perfect angle where she can draw your attention. 

“_________! Look over here!” she keeps shouting while waving her paws in the air. “Please, Blossom!” 

When she fails to get your attention, Poppy jumps onto the nearest tree, hoping to get higher. The new angle allows her to see what she failed to see earlier. 

“Who is that?” she wonders out loud once she notices that you are not alone. But it isn’t a maid or a guard who is with you, as promised by Sir Noah when he sent you away. 

Instead, all Poppy can see from here is an old woman wearing a cloak that may have seen better days. From this spot, she can also see the hag smiling wickedly while you have your attention on a fountain that looks to be a part of the garden, and you definitely cannot see what the hag is up to when she secretly moves to stand behind you. 

“No! ________!” 

The wall of falling water on the fountain looks so mesmerising that you cannot look away. It seems alluring, enticing you to come closer. 

But you are frozen on the spot. And for a moment, you almost forget why you are here. The thought of your wedding no longer takes the front seat in your mind when you keep feeling like you are being pulled to the fountain. 

“Now, go on then. Make your wish,” you hear the woman coaxing you. Once again, her voice seems to change, no longer sounding like the weak and soft voice that you first heard from her. But then again, it could have been your imagination, because her voice softens again when she speaks, 

“Didn’t you say that you have a wish, my fair maiden? This is your chance to make your wish come true.” 

“Yes,” you hear yourself speak as if you are no longer inside your body. “Yes, I do have a wish.” 

Closing your eyes, you look deeper into your heart and mind, knowing what exactly you want to wish for before taking the next step. Clasping your hands together, you begin to make your wish.

“I wish—that we, Prince Jungkook and I, will live happily ever a—oh!”

All of a sudden, you feel a strong push. You barely open your eyes in shock when you see your entire world being tilted over, and you are suddenly plunged deep into the water. The faux waterfall continues to flow, covering your entire body as you continue to submerge into the bottomless body of water and the world around you fades. 

Up on the surface, the cloaked hag bends over the fountain and releases a wicked laugh. She waves her arms around her and starts chanting a spell on the fountain, and a thick, dark green mist emerges from the ground, surrounding her like a cloud. The moment the mist fades away, the cloaked hag has disappeared, and in her place stands the mighty Sorceress, Queen Rosalyne. 

Her laughter dies down, just as Sir Noah comes out of his hiding. Wringing his hands together, he looks between the fountain that is calming down—the ripples fading as if it hadn’t been disturbed by your entire being—and the smiling Queen who is silently celebrating. 

“If I may ask,” Sir Noah speaks gently, afraid of how the Queen will react to his curiosity, “Where have you sent her, Your Majesty?” 

A soft chuckle slips out of the Queen’s lips as her smile widens once more. “She is now off to the alter-world. To a place far, far away from here. A place where there are no happily ever afters.” 

⟶ Author’s Note | Originally commissioned by @pinkbtsarmy | Thank you for reading!

— © Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. unsolicited translations are not allowed.

[inky-duchess]

Etiquette of the Edwardian Era and La Belle Époque: Courting

This is a new set of posts focusing on the period of time stretching from the late 19th century to the early 20th Century right up to the start of WWI. I'll be going through different aspects of life. This series can be linked to my Great House series as well as my Season post and Debutant post.

I get asked a lot about courting, what's acceptable or what's off limits and how one may woo a prospective spouse. So let's explore how to win the hand and heart.

Meeting (not so cute?)

Firstly, it is really difficult to have a meet cute in the Edwardian era. Women and men are kept separate for most of the day, only really getting to meet at designated events: A dinner, a ball, a social event. Meeting in the park is a cute idea but a gentleman can't just approach a lady (or another gentleman) without being introduced by a third party, either a senior party or a mutual friend. However, an introduction at a ball is sort of like Cinderella's get up, it ceases to matter when the ball is over. Your gentleman must not approach a lady after that ball, he must be reintroduced. Once an introduction has been made, he can speak with her.

An Interest

When an introduction has gone satisfactory, a gentleman must make the first move by calling to her parents'/guardian's home and making a formal request to begin courting. Her parents/guardians must consent, usually leading to a short brief interview of the gentleman's family, his connections, his wealth (though in not so vulgar terms, they may inquire where he lives which is an indicator). The woman's opinion did matter, she could give her reasons for accepting or turning down the offer. When the interest is approved, the gentleman can start offering invitations.

Three's Company

Of course, just because the parents agree, doesn't mean the couple gets to be alone. The young lady will be accompanied by a chaperone either a lady's maid, a governess, her mother or another female relative. While the couple is together, the chaperone will always be a few steps behind or have them in sight. She's there to ensure that nothing more than a conversation happens. This is not only for her young lady's reputation but also to save the man from any claims of impropriety. The chaperone also serves as a sort of spy, gauging whether this relationship is worth pursuing.

Activities & Tokens

A gentleman may invite a lady out to lots of different activities. He can invite her for a promenade at a local park or gardens, out the theatre, visit her at home, invite her to galleries, to balls or to be his companion at sporting events such as the races, tennis matches or boat races. When visiting in the house, the gentleman would be expected to speak with all the family, be polite and courteous. This is how the family guages his suitably. The gentleman must provide transportation and funds for any excursion. Gifts are to be refined as well. Expensive gifts are considered vulgar and will likely be turned down. Small gifts such as flowers, books, cakes are acceptable. Gifts aren't as important as the time spent together.

Rules of Engagement

There are certain unspoken rules surrounding courtship that every gentlemen must follow for a successful courtship:

A gentleman should always pay attention to his lady, and not exclude her or cast her off for others

A gentleman never smokes in front of his lady nor forget to remove his hat.

A gentleman must always offer to refresh his lady on an excursion

A gentleman must defend his lady from any offense be it an insult or a scene unfit for her eyes or within an argument. Throwing in an apology for any offense can add a cherry on top.

However if she's the one giving offense, without any reason, the gentleman must seek to create peace, apologising on her behalf.

When walking, a lady will be placed in the inside of the pavement.

A gentleman should never spend above his means to impress his lady. Staying within his means is not only smart but a show of restraint and a glimpse of what life ought to be if they marry.

A gentleman should always offer his assistance when a lady is exiting a carriage or going up a flight of steps or carrying anything heavy.

If a man accompanies a woman to a ball, he's expected to dance with her on her first and last dances of the evening.

A gentleman must always make his intentions known and not string a lady along with no intention of marriage. He must never joke about his intentions or lead her on.

Marriage

Courtship usually promises marriage which is why a gentleman or lady should not enter into courtship unless they would consider marriage. Courtship may last a few months or a few weeks and while it is going on, both sides should consider whether marriage would be a viable option of either of them. Parents/guardians would be consulted, the gentleman must make his intentions known to her father or nearest male relative before approaching the lady and popping the question. A courtship that doesn't end in marriage is seen as a failure and may damage the reputation of both parties, leading people to wonder what happened and who is to blame. For example is a perfectly eligible gentleman will not marry a perfectly eligible lady or she turns down his offer, people will usually leap to the conclusion that there is something lacking.

LGBTQIA+ Courting

Gay people have always been here. They have courted and they have loved. Whilst it was illegal in this time in many parts of the world, love did prevail. (fun fact: lesbianism wasn't illegal because nobody wanted to explain what it was to Queen Victoria). The good thing to know is that courting whilst gay was likely easier in this period. Whilst there were restrictions and rules for straight couples and chaperones haunted their every step, none of this would happen if two people of the same gender stepped out together. Two gentleman going to the opera together or dining at a restaurant or attending a ball together (dancing in public was unlikely) or two ladies promenading in the park or attending a concert would not be examined like a courting couple. They would have more freedom to move around but of course, with legal impediments PDA was kept a minium. Whilst they wouldn't be allowed to marry legally, there was little stopping couples from moving in together. Nobody would say much about two spinsters sharing a home or two bachelors crashing together

[tongue-like-a-razor]

There Are Limits

Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader

Summary: Maverick's new female friend brings out your spiteful nature. And seeing you with a new man is harder on Maverick than he'd like to admit.

CW: age gap, student/instructor dynamic, swearing, drinking, and did someone say bring on the angst?? Because you know I can deliver..

WC: 4000+

This is Part 5 in the There Are Rules universe.

“Captain?”

Maverick looks up when you step into his office. He’s sitting on the edge of his desk and there’s a woman standing between his legs, so close, she might as well be in his lap. When you enter, she steps away half-heartedly, looking slightly annoyed that her conversation with Maverick has been cut short.

Maverick’s cheeky grin falters when he sees you, and he clears his throat as he hops off his desk.

“Lieutenant,” he says. “How can I help you?”

You stare at him in shock, not sure how to react. The last several weeks haven’t been easy; in fact, you and Maverick have barely spoken since your mutual decision to terminate your romantic relationship. But seeing him with another woman is a whole new level of difficult.

“Lieutenant?” he says, lifting his eyebrows worriedly. He doesn’t bother to introduce his companion, with whom he is obviously very familiar.

You swallow around the lump in your throat and exhale slowly. Maverick isn’t the only expert in self-regulation. It’s a skill that’s proven quite useful, if not invaluable, during your tenure in the navy. And, although it’s always come naturally to you, recent events have seen that you receive plenty of practice. “Sir,” you say promptly, saluting Maverick in an entirely professional manner, as if you’ve never even had his tongue down your throat. “It’s about next week’s squadron dinner,” you say.

It's true that you meant to speak about the dinner – about how you were planning on skipping it to avoid an ever vigilant Cyclone who's been watching both you and Maverick like a hawk. Moreover, the less you see of Maverick these days, the better.

But the scene before you has severely shifted the trajectory of your plans. And the next thing that comes out of your mouth is hideously unrehearsed. “I was wondering if we were allowed a plus one,” you blurt out, your eyes darting pointedly between Maverick and his female friend.

Maverick stares at you mutely, as though it’s taking him a minute to process your request. “You want to bring a date?” he then asks, his eyes widening and subsequently narrowing in a matter of milliseconds.

You feel like you might sweat right through your uniform with the way he’s staring you down, but you stand your ground defiantly. “If I may,” you respond unemotionally; the way you’d address any other superior.

Maverick nods slowly, glancing at the woman who’s currently rifling through some papers on his desk. You ignore how comfortable she seems in his office, like she’s been here plenty of times before. “I don’t see that being a problem,” he says. “Who’s the lucky…?” His voice trails off and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Should be fun,” he finishes, giving you a wide, artificial-looking grin.

You smile back at him. “I agree.”

…

“Boyfriend,” Maverick says, his eyebrows shooting upward for a moment before he checks himself and pulls at the collar of his jacket as if it’s suddenly an uncomfortable fit.

You try not to acknowledge his reaction and instead introduce your date to some of your squadron mates. You’re not sure why Sam has decided to put a label on your relationship at this exact moment, but you’re not going to argue semantics in front of the one person you wouldn’t mind buying into this spectacle.

“It’s new,” you hear Sam blurt out, presumably cowering under the scrutiny of Maverick’s gaze.

You make a point not to look Maverick in the eye because you’re still upset about walking in on him last week when he was clearly otherwise engaged. But when Sam walks ahead, busy conversing with the other aviators, you feel a finger brush gently over the back of your hand. You pull both hands behind your back and square your shoulders to face your instructor.

Maverick is watching you solemnly. “This is good,” he whispers, although the tilt of his eyebrows says otherwise.

You can’t express how much it hurts to hear him referring to this situation as good, and yet, you nod, grinning rigidly. “It is,” you say, pausing to give him an opportunity to come clean about his own blossoming relationship.

But Maverick does nothing of the sort. Maverick is as unreadable as ever.

You’re about to walk away when the woman you’d seen in Maverick’s office appears from behind him. She nudges him on the shoulder to get his attention and shoots him a brilliant smile.

Maverick gives her a polite nod before turning back to you. “Lieutenant,” he says. “I’d like to introduce you to an old friend of mine.”

The woman beams at you and holds out her hand. “I’m Charlie,” she says.

You shake her hand and return her smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Charlie,” you say. “Are you an instructor at Top Gun as well?”

She chuckles, throwing Maverick a flirty glance. “Not for a while,” she responds, looking back at you. “Not since this one made me rethink that particular career choice.”

Maverick drops his head with a laugh. “Sorry about that, by the way,” he says.

Charlie shakes her head. “Don’t be,” she replies. “It all worked out.”

Maverick nods, looking at her affectionately. “Charlie went on to bigger and better things. And by bigger, I mean she went on to design rockets.”

“Wow,” you say, both impressed and jealous of the woman who seems to hold a special place in Maverick’s heart.

“And look at how far you’ve come,” Charlie says to Maverick.

Maverick grimaces. “I’m right back where I started,” he remarks. “Full circle.”

“You’re right back where you’re meant to be,” she says earnestly. “And I’m proud of you.”

Maverick shifts his weight uncomfortably, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans. “We better grab a seat before Cyclone has an aneurysm,” he says.

You turn to see Cyclone watching the three of you with an irked expression from the table reserved for your group at the restaurant. He shakes his head ominously as you make your way toward the others. When the three of you arrive at the table, he mutters, “How gracious of you to join us.”

Maverick glances at him with a slight smirk but doesn’t say a word while Charlie lets out a small chuckle, taking her place beside Maverick at the table.

You lower yourself into the seat next to Sam, right across from Maverick and Charlie. Cyclone is sitting to Maverick’s right, aggressively perusing the menu.

“I hear the fish tacos are good here,” Maverick notes when Cyclone lays his menu down on the table in frustration.

Cyclone gives him a sour look. “Not a fish person,” he responds tartly.

You stifle a laugh, exchanging glances with Charlie, who is also snickering.

“There are non-fish tacos as well,” Maverick points out.

Cyclone nods grumpily. “Yes, I saw the entire section devoted to the various tacos they serve. I can read.”

Maverick bites the side of his lip to contain a grin. “Enchiladas,” he continues quietly, as if to himself. “Quesadillas, chiles rellenos…”

“I want a burger,” Cyclone declares, flipping through the menu anew.

Maverick shoots you an amused glance. “Let’s start with drinks,” he suggests, sliding a draft beer menu in front of his superior.

“Good idea.” Cyclone sighs theatrically, rolling his shoulders to loosen some tension.

“Hey, d’you want to share a couple of dishes?” Sam offers, tapping you on the arm to get your attention.

You glance over at him quickly, having almost forgotten he was there. “Sure.” You nod enthusiastically, even though it’s the last thing you would ever think to do.

Once all the drinks and food arrive, and you and Sam awkwardly try to allocate your respective shares of the dinner, Charlie pipes in. “How long have you two been together?” she asks, gesturing at you and Sam.

“It’s new,” Sam, the self-proclaimed boyfriend who has yet to work up the nerve to even kiss you, reiterates quickly while you chew on a quesadilla.

You wipe your mouth with a napkin before confirming, “Not long.”

Maverick’s eyes rest on you for a split second before he returns his attention to the ceviche in his bowl.

Meanwhile, Cyclone regards you with a dubious expression. “Where did you meet?” he asks gruffly.

“Through some friends,” Sam responds excitedly, as though it’s the most fascinating fact of the evening.

You take another bite of quesadilla and avoid looking directly at any of the three people sitting before you.

But Maverick cuts the silence short. “Is it serious?” he asks, and both you and Cyclone shoot him threatening glances. Charlie looks up from her plate, trying to interpret yours and Cyclone’s abrupt reactions.

Sam, meanwhile, is smiling blissfully to himself as he pokes at the contents of his fajita before rolling it up. “I’d say it has some potential of getting there,” he says.

You nearly choke on a pepper upon seeing Maverick’s expression transform from mild amusement to unequivocal displeasure. His jaw muscles contract as he forcefully stabs at his dinner with a fork.

Sam clears his throat nervously and speaks in a noticeably higher pitch, “Of course, I can’t predict the future.”

You roll your eyes and put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s none of his business, anyway,” you say.

To Maverick’s left, you see Charlie’s jaw drop slightly in her shock at your informal – bordering on impolite – addition to the conversation with your superior officer.

Cyclone chuckles quietly, finally appeased by your interaction with Maverick. “At last, something we can all agree on.”

Maverick smiles politely. “I was just making small talk,” he says, laying his fork down without finishing his meal.

Cyclone gives him a flat look and leans forward to address his friend. “Charlie, how long are you in town?”

While Charlie and Cyclone engage in conversation, Maverick catches your gaze inquisitively, as if he’s trying to figure you out. His eyes are so penetrating, you feel like he can see right through you. He must know that your relationship with Sam isn’t even close to being serious. He must know that you’re probably going to break it off that very evening. He must know you only brought him because you were hurt and you wanted to hurt him back. Because Maverick has reconnected with someone of significance and is involved in something meaningful.

You tear your gaze away from him irritably. You’re about done letting Maverick stir up your emotions without so much as saying a word. You’re about done caring for a man who’s done nothing but cause you pain.

You rise from your seat and excuse yourself, heading for the bathroom near the back of the restaurant. No sooner do you break through the door, than you collapse onto the nearest sink and break down. You don’t even care that your mascara is leaving streaks down your cheeks, or that the tears are clouding your vision. You don’t even care that your hands are gripping the basin so tightly that your fingers are cramping.

You glance up at your reflection in the mirror; pathetic. How did you let yourself fall this far? This hard? This fast? You run the tap and dab some cool water on your skin, patting at the trails of makeup that your crying spell has left behind.

You take a deep breath, staring at your glistening face with a scowl, preparing yourself for the remainder of the evening. But just as you make your way for the door, it opens, and Maverick enters.

You jerk back in surprise, despite his history of showing up in places he isn’t supposed to be.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You panic. He knows. He knows that you ran away to cry. And this makes you furious. “I’m fine,” you respond curtly. “You shouldn’t be in here,” you add, gesturing to the door behind him.

He pulls his eyebrows together like he isn’t quite convinced. “You’re not okay,” he says.

You grit your teeth in anger. He can’t just ignore you for weeks and then try to comfort you like he gives a shit about your feelings. “Why are you here, Maverick?”

Maverick presses his lips into a thin line and breathes out steadily. “I was worried about you.”

You scoff resentfully. “Don’t be.”

Maverick sighs and lowers his head. “I can’t help it.”

You attempt to keep your voice even despite all the shaking your body is doing. “You better go, Captain,” you say spitefully. “Before Cyclone finds us. Or Charlie.”

He watches you soberly. “You asked me to stay,” he reminds you.

You stare wistfully into his eyes. He’s right, of course. You’re the reason he’s still here. Your relationship with him has been strained but civil since the incident on the carrier. There has been a mutual effort to avoid unnecessary encounters, and an unspoken understanding that, while romance is out of the question, it will take some time for both of you to move on completely. Obviously, you did not expect him to move on by moving in on someone new. Or old, in the case of Charlie, because the two of them go way back, apparently.

You struggle to remember why you’d wanted this – wanted him to stay despite knowing that nothing would ever come of it. In the moment, you were desperate not to lose him. But watching him carry on as though nothing ever happened between the two of you is absolute torture. You’d rather not witness just how little you actually meant to him.

You shrug. “Error in judgement, I guess,” you respond coldly, echoing his words from the night Cyclone had caught the two of you in the parking lot of the Hard Deck.

Maverick nods. “Been there,” he says pensively before turning to walk out. Just before he does, however, he glances back at you and adds, “I’ll wait out here until you’re ready.”

“Don’t,” you say.

Maverick meets your gaze with a weary look. “I’m not leaving.”

“What’s Cyclone going to think when the two of us come back together from the bathroom?”

Maverick shrugs. “I have no control over what Cyclone thinks.”

“What’s Charlie going to think?”

Maverick pauses in the doorway. “What’s Sam going to think?”

You roll your eyes. “He won’t even notice.”

Maverick watches you quietly for a moment, then says. “I doubt that very much.”

You lick your lips as a fresh round of tears threatens to obscure your eyesight. The fact that Sam isn’t here to check on you but Maverick is has not escaped you. “Go, please,” you whisper.

Maverick wavers slightly on the spot and, after a brief interval, holds his hand out to you. You glance down at it hesitantly as your stomach flips violently at the though of touching him again. Clearly, you’re angry with him, but the part of you that loves him always wins.

Slowly, you step forward and place your hand in his. He pulls you in the moment you make contact, wrapping his arms around you as he releases the door to the bathroom. He lets his face drop, pressing his mouth to the top of your head.

After a prolonged – mostly silent – embrace, you detach yourself from his arms and give him a nod. “I’m ready,” you say.

Maverick nods back without a word and then opens the door for you.

…

It’s past midnight when you hear the knocking, followed by some irregular footsteps and a string of quiet – but still audible – curse words. After a moment of hesitation, you unlock the door.

“Captain?”

Maverick is standing in the corridor before you, although calling it ‘standing’ might be a bit of a stretch. He’s not exactly stable on his feet.

You glance up and down the hallway to make sure that no one has seen him. “What are you doing here?”

Maverick is watching you with a squared jaw, as though he means to keep the purpose of his visit to himself. He breathes his frustration out through his nose before veering right into the doorframe.

“Sir!” you exclaim, grabbing a hold of his arm like you might have any chance of keeping him upright were he to topple over.

“Sir?” he murmurs, and you could smell the liquor on his breath. He catches your gaze now that you’re closer and, in another moment, his eyes begin to slip down your face before they finally close. “I told you,” he says, his mouth twitching as he grimaces. He pushes past you into the room.

You quickly close the door behind him, hoping nobody heard the commotion. Praying he’ll have the sense to keep his voice down.

But Maverick, it seems, isn’t nearly as concerned as you are about disturbing your neighbors. He rounds on you with a resentful expression and shakes his head. “I knew this would happen.”

You blink at him in confusion. “What?” you say. “What happened?”

“You happened,” Maverick says defeatedly. He takes a step toward you, his eyes flitting between yours as if he’s checking to see if you can relate.

But it’s a weekday and you had just drifted off to sleep when he’d started drumming on your door, so you’re not exactly following. You furrow your eyebrows. “I happened to what?” you ask.

Maverick watches you miserably, taking a step back now, as though he can’t decide which is worse: being closer or farther away from the source of all his troubles. “You two make a fine pair,” he manages to say, but not without a break in his voice.

You purse your lips, looking away from him. You’re not going to comfort a man who’s standing in his own way. After all, it was his decision not to be with you. Besides, Maverick brought his own date to the dinner, so you aren’t feeling overly sympathetic.

Maverick tears his gaze away from you and smacks a hand over his face. “What am I doing here, Lieutenant?”

It’s a fair question, to be sure; one you wouldn’t mind knowing the answer to, yourself. But you’re more immediately concerned about the consequences of Maverick’s unsanctioned visit to your quarters than the reasons behind it. “Maverick, it’s the middle of the night,” you say, shocked at how firm you sound despite the tremor travelling through you.

Maverick’s eyebrows converge and he shifts his jaw as his eyes well up with tears. “Yeah,” he whispers, nodding slowly.

“And you’re drunk,” you add when he takes a step toward you again.

“I am,” he admits, still in a whisper.

You ignore the stutter of your heart as he nears. “You can’t be here,” you warn.

He watches you wretchedly, giving his head a subtle shake. “I can’t,” he agrees.

You can hardly breathe when he finally stops before you, his soft eyes trailing down your face. His hand is coasting up the side of your neck before you even know what’s happening, and by the time his fingertips are hovering at the nape of your neck, you’re so lost in his gaze, it’s a miracle you’re still standing. Unsurprisingly, you aren’t in the state of mind to respond.

“I lied,” he says with a slight rasp despite the effort he’s exerting to steady his voice. “I think he’s terrible for you.”

You blink at him, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“Sam,” he says. “He’s not the one.”

You pride yourself on your patience and understanding, even in trying circumstances; you’re not an unreasonable person by any means. But even you have limits. And, tonight, Maverick is testing every last one. “Are you the one?”

Maverick stares at you, his eyes swimming. Slowly, he shakes his head. “No, I’m not.”

You breathe out forcefully, astonished at his audacity. There is only so much you can let this man get away with. “Then, respectfully, shut the fuck up,” you hiss, pushing past him aggressively. You whip around sharply and point at the door. “Get out.”

…

The following afternoon in the briefing room, Maverick reviews the morning's flight footage with barely a look in your direction. He doesn’t even comment on the impulsive maneuver you pulled that left your partner confused and resulted in an uncoordinated hustle to regain momentum, costing your team valuable seconds that could have ended in tragedy were it a real dogfight.

Once the briefing is finished and the room begins to clear out, Maverick approaches your desk. “Can I have a minute, Lieutenant?” he asks in a subdued sort of tone.

You glance up at him grudgingly but don’t respond until the last of the pilots have left the room. “Is it about the Cobra Climb?” you ask monotonously.

“What?” He quirks his head in confusion before briefly closing his eyes and shaking his head. “No,” he says, and then adds, more emphatically, “No.” He lets out a heavy sigh and lifts a leg over the chair in front of your desk, sitting on it backwards to face you. “I want to apologize to you.”

You groan. “Not again.”

Maverick steals a glance at the door, ensuring that the two of you are still alone, and then he lays a hand over yours on the desk. “I’m sorry about last night. Showing up at your place – less than sober.” Maverick lowers his gaze with a disappointed frown. “I – I had no right. I have no right,” he says, looking back up at you. His eyes flit between yours imploringly, burdened with all the guilt he carries.

“Stop,” you say assertively, pulling your hand out from under his grasp. You can’t listen to another word. This entire relationship has been a series of failures in self-control, each one a ‘mistake’ in Maverick’s eyes for which he subsequently has taken full responsibility. You rise from your seat and gather your things mutely.

“Y/N,” he says hoarsely, standing up after you.

You shake your head. “I don’t need another apology, sir,” you say bitterly. “I just need some space.”

Maverick nods. “Of course,” he says. “And I’ve been denying you that – and I apologize –”

“I said, stop!” you exclaim, shooting him a threatening look.

Maverick trails you as you make your way to the door – the exact opposite of your request. You rush out of the briefing room, and he follows, not far behind. Thankfully, there’s no one in the hallway because he’s behaving irrationally, to say the least. He reaches for your arm and pulls you around to face him.

You gulp, staggering the moment you meet his gaze, the aching in his eyes undermining your determination.

“Let me finish,” he pleads in a whisper.

You exhale sharply. “Finish, then.”

Maverick slowly lets his hand fall away from your arm now that you’re no longer a flight risk and, this alone, hurts, because you want him to hold you forever. Even when you’re fuming, even when you’re yelling, even when you hate him.

“Seeing you,” he says slowly, evenly, as though he’s trying to compose himself as he’s talking. He takes a breath and tries again. “With another man –”

“Come on.” You scoff, even though your heart is already buzzing at the thrill of making Maverick jealous. “You can’t expect me to not date –”

“I don’t expect that,” he says. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

You think about the way you felt seeing him with Charlie and you’re instantly sorry for causing him that much pain, regardless of whether it was intentional or not.

“I was angry,” he says quietly. “At myself, mostly…” he trails off, moving his head to the side and lowering his gaze. “But also at you. And I blamed you for the way you make me feel.” He pulls his bottom lip under his teeth and grimaces. “But that’s not your fault,” he whispers shakily. “That’s on me.”

You bite into your lip to keep it steady. You wish you could look away because the devastation on his face is undoing you, but you aren’t strong enough. You take a step back and take a shuddering breath. “Please don’t look at me like that,” you say, your voice unsteady. You can barely get a grasp on his words because you’re too absorbed in his eyes.

Maverick’s eyebrows lift inward, as if your request has him concerned – or confused. “Like what?”

You roll your eyes – as if he doesn’t know like what. “Like that!” you respond as he takes a step toward you in alarm. “Just stop!” You sigh in frustration, unable to articulate your thoughts because his eyes are still commanding all of your attention.

“Where am I supposed to look?” he asks, agitated.

“It’s the way you’re looking at me,” you explain angrily.

“Are you listening to what I’m saying?” he asks urgently. “I need you to hear me.”

You shut your eyes and shake your head. “Enough, Maverick!” you exclaim.

Maverick stills immediately, watching you uneasily.

“You’ve been tiptoeing around me, treating me like I’m injured or in need of assistance –”

“I’m not –”

“You are and I’m tired of it. Why didn’t you call me out on the Cobra Climb?”

Maverick stares at you like you’re unhinged. “You want me to reprimand you?”

You let out a heavy sigh. “If you’re going to be my instructor – just my instructor – then instruct me. It was an idiot move and I shouldn’t have done it.”

“You were distracted –”

“You’re making excuses for me! Why?”

“Don’t question my teaching methods,” Maverick says in a low voice.

You scoff, shaking your head. “You’re afraid of confrontation so you’ve been avoiding me. You didn’t even think to give me a heads up about Charlie!”

Maverick narrows his eyes. “What about Charlie?”

“Whatever,” you grumble. “Just don’t stand here and proclaim that my bringing a date to the squadron dinner somehow threw you for a loop.”

Maverick studies you silently so you boldly meet his gaze. His jaw is set but there’s a tenderness in his eyes that nearly draws you in.

“Stop coddling me,” you say firmly.

You watch his Adam’s apple rise then fall as he gulps down whatever retort he decides to keep to himself. His jaw muscles contract once more as his eyes settle over your face.

You tear your gaze away. “And quit looking at me like you…” You sigh, unsure how to describe the inimitable combination of exasperation and affection you see in his eyes.

“Like what?” he asks, his voice rising in volume. You can tell that he’s becoming increasingly defensive as your blows continue.

You’re annoyed that he’s annoyed and you blurt the words out before you can stop yourself. “Like you’re in love with me or –”

“I CAN’T LOOK AT YOU ANY OTHER WAY!” he roars.

You freeze. Stunned by the volume of his voice. Stunned by the emphatic delivery. Stunned at his words.

He turns away in a huff, placing one hand on his hip while the other is balled up into a fist at his mouth.

“This was your idea,” you say quietly as he slowly turns back to look at you. You aren’t the one who refuses to even try, and he needs to acknowledge that.

“I know,” he whispers, his eyes brimming with tears.

You clench your teeth to keep your mouth from trembling. “Then stop,” you implore.

He shakes his head, pulling his lips into a rigid line. “I don’t know how.”

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[kiwriteswords]

Rule Followers

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: A one-shot, that is technically a companion piece to Wicked Games, but can be read solo! I've also expanded this story so much that I no longer think I can keep the titles within the Wicked Game lyrics...

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags/Warnings: Suggestive Language, Implied Sexual Content, Potential Hint at Brat-Tamer!Hotch, Workplace Romance, Mild Workplace Tension, Humor. Part of a series but can be read as a standalone.

Sypnosis: After disclosing your relationship, you and Agent Hotchner are required to attend a mandatory workplace boundaries seminar, joined by Morgan and Garcia, who seem to be thoroughly entertained by the situation.

Companion piece to: Part V in the Wicked Game Universe (Can be read independently, though!)

The seminar room was filled with the monotony of beige walls and a lone projector humming softly at the front of the room. You and Hotch entered together, side by side, with Garcia and Morgan waiting in their seats, smirking like two kids ready for mischief.

“Oh, look,” Morgan murmured, nudging Garcia. “They finally arrived. I thought Strauss might’ve pulled you aside for a pre-seminar scolding.”

You scoffed and leaned over Hotch, who’d already put on his best stoic face, clearly prepping for the ordeal. “We’re here to learn, right, Aaron?”

He barely glanced at you, but you caught the corner of his mouth twitching before he composed himself. “Let’s just get through this without incident.”

Garcia, never one to let a good opportunity pass, leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. “Right, sure, because a seminar on professional boundaries was exactly what this team needed. Especially you two.”

Hotch cast a withering look her way, but before he could say anything, Morgan broke in, “You know, Hotch, I’ve never seen you get flustered—until now. Kind of refreshing, actually.”

You couldn’t resist nudging him with a playful grin. “Aw, he’s just mad because he knows they’ll call him out for all those little glances he sneaks when he thinks no one’s watching.”

Hotch’s jaw tightened, but he couldn’t hide the faint flush creeping up his neck. “I think we all know who’s responsible for this…meeting.”

Morgan laughed. “Oh, there’s no question about that! All those times you two have been ‘subtly’ flirting in the field? Strauss must’ve been waiting for an excuse to get you here.”

“Professional decorum is important,” Hotch said flatly, as though reciting a script.

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Decorum? Man, I saw you let her push every button until you were ready to combust. Don’t think you can pretend you didn’t enjoy it.”

Garcia gasped in exaggerated delight. “Strauss isn’t the only one watching!”

Hotch sighed, clearly caught between exasperation and mild amusement. “I think it’s safe to say none of us will be contributing to the Q&A session.”

“Oh, come on, Hotch,” you teased, leaning in so only he could hear. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious what they’ll say about us?”

He looked at you, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “No, but I’m curious to see how long you can actually sit still.”

Morgan laughed, overhearing. “I give it five minutes.”

As the seminar dragged on, the team shared knowing looks and chuckled silently, each relishing the rare sight of Hotch out of his element. And though you tried to keep your composure, every time you exchanged a sly glance with Hotch or caught him subtly rolling his eyes, you could feel the playful energy between you two crackling, uncontainable even in the most "serious" of seminars.

The seminar was in full swing, and the instructor—a painfully earnest, silver-haired man with a penchant for over-explaining—was clicking through a presentation with slides so outdated they looked like they belonged in a high school health class.

You and Hotch sat side by side, each trying to focus on the presentation, but you couldn’t resist stealing glances at him. The serious set of his jaw and that faint crease between his brows said he was doing his best to keep this under control, though you could tell his patience was wearing thin.

As the instructor droned on, a new slide appeared with the title: "Avoiding Favoritism in the Workplace."

You leaned just slightly toward Hotch, voice barely above a whisper. “Well, that’s relevant.”

Without looking at you, Hotch replied quietly, “Don’t even start.”

But you couldn’t resist, nodding at the slide with mock seriousness. “You know, Aaron, maybe I should stop winning all those ‘favorite agent’ contests.”

He gave you a sidelong look, the barest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Last I checked, those weren’t real.”

You leaned in a little closer, murmuring, “Oh, right. All my campaigning for nothing.”

Hotch didn’t miss a beat, his voice low. “I don’t play favorites in the workplace.”

You stifled a grin, keeping your tone innocent. “Good to know. So, if it came down to it, you’d rather be sleeping next to me at night than…Reid?”

Hotch’s lips twitched with the faintest smile. “It’s a close call.”

You smirked. “Come on, admit it. I’m your favorite outside the office.”

He finally glanced your way, just the hint of warmth in his eyes. “Outside the office? That’s never been in question.”

Satisfied, you settled back with a smirk. "Glad we got that straight."

You settled back, but when the next slide appeared—Examples of Inappropriate Behavior—you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. The slide showed two people standing far too close to each other, gazing with barely hidden longing, and you swore the actors looked vaguely like you and Hotch.

He let out a quiet, barely perceptible sigh as the instructor spoke. “It’s important to recognize when boundaries are becoming blurred. You may think a close colleague is just a friend, but others may perceive favoritism or unprofessional behavior.”

At that, you leaned closer to Hotch. “Think we should ask if our relationship is coming across that way?”

His gaze remained fixed on the slide. “I think the goal is to make it through without drawing attention.”

You held back a laugh, nodding seriously. “Right, right. We’re practically invisible.”

The instructor continued, oblivious, as the slides shifted to Physical Boundaries and Inappropriate Contact. You watched as a series of awkward stock photos appeared, showing coworkers sharing prolonged eye contact or lingering touches.

“This is absurd,” Hotch murmured under his breath, sounding almost resigned.

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying it doesn’t cover our unique situation?”

He gave you a sharp look, the faintest glint of warning, but there was something else too—almost a glimmer of amusement. 

“Not a word.” But his silence didn’t last long. When the instructor started explaining the potential “distractions” that could arise from workplace relationships, Hotch muttered so quietly you almost missed it, “As if I’d ever be distracted.”

“Oh, really?” you whispered back, daring him with a playful smirk. “Then why do I catch you staring at me constantly?”

He didn’t respond, keeping his eyes forward with military precision. But you could see the telltale clench in his jaw and that faint blush creeping up his neck. You couldn’t let him off that easily.

“Guess you must be the picture of focus,” you murmured with a grin.

“Unlike you,” he replied in a dry whisper, “I can keep my focus exactly where it needs to be.”

“Right, so no distractions at all,” you said, casting a quick glance his way. “That’s why we’re at this seminar, after all.”

Just then, the instructor called for attention, clicking to a slide that displayed a list of “Appropriate Boundaries” in the workplace. His voice carried through the room with a practiced authority. “Maintaining professional boundaries ensures that all team members are treated fairly and equitably. Distractions, romantic relationships, or favoritism can erode the integrity of your work.”

You leaned over to Hotch, keeping your voice low. “Integrity, huh? Think ours is intact?”

Hotch’s tone was barely more than a murmur. “Strauss seems to think we’re hanging by a thread.”

You feigned a sigh. “Guess it’s a good thing I enjoy walking that line.”

He shook his head, gaze fixed on the screen as he struggled to maintain his composure. “You’re impossible.”

The instructor’s voice droned on about “a professional atmosphere free of personal entanglements” as another slide appeared—Common Workplace Hazards. The image showed two colleagues leaning too close over a desk, an almost magnetic pull between them.

You bit back a grin and leaned toward Hotch, your voice a soft murmur. “That one looks familiar…maybe a certain night in your office?”

Hotch’s jaw tensed, and his hand brushed against yours, sending a thrill down your spine. Without missing a beat, he murmured, “We are not having this conversation here.”

But you couldn’t resist, letting your fingers brush his just enough to keep him on edge. “Come on, Aaron… Remember how you locked the door?”

He shot you a sharp look, his tone low and commanding. “Behave.” His hand settled firmly over yours, stilling your movements, and his voice softened. “Or I’ll have to remind you exactly who’s in charge, even here.”

You smirked, feeling a thrill of defiance. “Promise?”

Hotch’s gaze held yours, intense and unyielding. “Trust me, I do,” he whispered, a quiet edge in his voice that left no room for argument. The glint in his eyes, though, hinted at something deeper, a shared memory lingering between you both.

Silenced and properly reeled in, you gave him a slight nod, unable to resist a soft, satisfied smile.

The seminar dragged on, but now there was a new energy between you. Every time a stock photo showed another awkward interaction or the instructor stressed the dangers of “inappropriate workplace affection,” you and Hotch would exchange the faintest of glances, each one saying everything you couldn’t in the middle of the seminar.

By the time the last slide finally clicked by with a bland “Thank you for your attention,” you were practically buzzing with pent-up energy, and you could see Hotch was just as eager to be done with it. Maybe more.

As you both stood up, gathering your things, you couldn’t help but murmur, “Well, I hope you took notes. Wouldn’t want any slip-ups in front of Strauss.”

He gave you a wry smile, finally letting the humor slip through. “I think I have everything I need right here.”

You raised an eyebrow, catching his gaze. “Does that mean I’m off the hook?”

Hotch looked at you, his voice so low and sincere that it sent a thrill down your spine. “Let’s just say I have a pretty good handle on where we stand.”

And with that, he held the door open for you, his hand brushing your lower back as you exited the room. Maybe you were supposed to keep your distance, maybe the seminar didn’t exactly condone it—but you knew you’d both be just fine.

As you and Hotch stepped out of the seminar room, Morgan and Garcia followed close behind, each wearing matching grins that hinted they’d been waiting for a moment to pounce. Hotch let his hand on your lower back drop, straightening up as if trying to re-establish some level of professionalism.

Morgan shook his head with a smirk. “Well, I think we can all agree that’s two hours of our lives we’ll never get back. Honestly thought they’d use some real-life examples from our team for a minute there.”

Garcia grinned, nudging Morgan. “Hey, I was bracing for it! I thought for sure they’d pull out that slide on pet names you shouldn’t use for your coworkers.”

You let out a snort, looking at her with amusement. “Oh yeah, we were all waiting for ‘chocolate thunder’ or ‘baby girl’  to make its big comeback.”

Hotch, keeping a straight face, gave Morgan a sidelong glance. “I think we’re all grateful they kept things…general.”

Morgan chuckled, leaning back with a grin. “Oh, sure, Hotch. General works for most of us—but something tells me this seminar’s gonna stick with you two a bit longer.”

Hotch’s lips pressed into the faintest smirk, just for a second. “I think we’re clear on what’s expected.”

You shot Hotch a sidelong smile. “Yep. Message received, loud and clear.”

Garcia, ever the gleeful instigator, clasped her hands with a grin. “I, for one, am just thrilled to have witnessed the two of you sitting through all that…professional advice.”

Hotch’s gaze flickered between the three of you, and he let out a resigned sigh. “Let’s keep the commentary in check, shall we?”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell us twice,” Morgan replied, shaking his head with a laugh. “But you two might be in for a few more of these little ‘reminders’ from Strauss, just saying.”

Hotch straightened, his expression returning to its usual calm. “I’m fairly confident we can stay on the right side of things,” he replied, casting you a brief, meaningful look.

As you all walked toward the elevators, his hand brushed your back in the subtlest of gestures, enough to remind you that, whatever Strauss or the seminar said, both of you knew exactly where you stood.

Tag List:

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@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

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[seresinhangmanjake]

Oh, Baby Universe: dad!Jake Seresin x female reader

You might not have been his girlfriend, but when you left town one night a month after sleeping together, it completely broke Jake’s heart. Now, a year later, you’ve returned and you’re not alone. You have a new little companion that just so happens to bear a startling resemblance to Jake.

Oh, Baby: Jake learns he’s a dad

In the Night: Jake has nightmares that you leave him again

His Girls: A domestic moment with dad!Jake

The Other Mother: your mother comes to town

Birthday Boy: It’s Jake’s B-Day and you have a special gift for him

It’s What You Make It: Jake’s mother makes an unexpected visit

And Honey, I’ll Make It All Okay: Jake’s Dad shows up.

Nothing Better than What We’ve Got:You’re finally ready to have a ring on your finger

I’ve Promised You Forever: Jake and his Honey are married

The Prequel:

Oh Honey: Part 1

What Once He Had: Part 2

Gone: Part 3

Related Fics (jump around in the timeline):

Everything and All of It: Reunion...stuff;)

A Little Love: cuteness during a family grocery trip

Daddy Knows Best: Eve says her first word

Oh Wow: Flashback to when Jake first sees you

Methods of Love and Trust: Jake lets his mother babysit for the first time. 

Jingle of The Bells: Eve is worried Jake won’t make it home for christmas

That’s Definitely a Name: Eve helps name her baby brother.

The Favorite: the Daggers meet Eve for the first time.

Drabbles:

Eve is upset when Jake has to leave

the rules of Disneyland

Eve learns about Baby #2

Eve’s got a new guy

First Night Home

AUs:

Your Way Back to Me: Oh, Baby AU. What if you didn’t return after Eve was born and it was decades later before you met Jake again? And how would he feel to find out his best student might be a bit closer to him than he initially believed? 

Now that I have you (Part 2 of Your Way Back to Me)

Because You Stayed: What if you never left?

Moodboards:

Jake x Honey

Jake x Honey with Eve

Jake x Honey Elopement

Oh, Baby Wedding

Eve’s First Birthday

Coach Jake & Jake x Honey in Texas

Oh, Baby Christmas

Baby Boy

Jake Seresin Masterlist Main Masterlist