#dot and four are so wonderful and i know that this drabble did not do your artwork justice at all but i hope it could make you smile!

[rebornofstars]

Hi @kenvamp! Your artwork is so three-dimensional and exquisite and has inspired me to continue creating for this fandom. I admire you a lot, so I wrote this short piece for you as part of the Fan Joy July challenge based on your artwork. I hope that’s okay!

“Stop wriggling.” “I’m not wriggling,” Green said. He tried to turn around to face her as she spoke, but a slender, gloved hand pressed down firmly on the side of his skull to keep him in place. “Ow! Zelda.” “Stop wriggling, then,” she repeated. The brush dug into his scalp as she moved it through his hair, thick and slow and soothing. The steady motions made him feel like he was a child again. He grinned to himself. “Are you going to tell me how you got a knot the size of a bird’s egg in the back of your head?” Zelda asked. “I’m surprised Blue didn’t immediately get out the clippers. You know how he gets about untidiness.” “I ran away from him,” Green admitted, and was rewarded by the warm shake of her laughter where their bodies were pressed together, her ankle against his hip, her knee against his elbow. Zelda tucked some of his hair behind his ear with the brush. “How’d you escape?” she asked. “Didn’t,” he said. “Red took the hit for me.” She stopped brushing. He took the chance to turn around and found her giggling silently into her palms, freckles peeking out from behind the powder on her face, glowing pink stone set into her circlet, ginger-brown and bushy-haired and blue-eyed. His best friend. He could still see the ghost of her at six years old, underneath the pink and white fabric and the thick skirts. At ten years old, at twelve, at fourteen. Let’s go check out the festival together!  He crossed his legs like a schoolchild and smirked at her. “Red tackled Blue and the clippers took off half of his eyebrow. And then Red pulled out his fire rod, and the whole house nearly exploded.” “Oh, goddesses,” she gasped through tears of mirth. The huge satin bow keeping her own hair in check crinkled as laughter wracked her. Green slipped the hairbrush from her fingers and gestured for her to turn around. “It was worse than that time with the cat,” he said. “Come on, it’s your turn.” She pulled on the ribbon to free her hair, still giggling, and he started tugging the bristles through the fuzz at her split ends. “You’ve all got dinner with my father tonight as a thank-you for the whole Vaati business,” she said. “I’m not going to be able to keep it together.” “Oh, no,” realised Green, with completely genuine shock. “The king’s not going to ask about Red’s missing eyebrow, will he?” “Um,” she said, because they both knew how curious her father was. “We should have fun watching them try to explain, at least?” “Stop wriggling,” he instructed, as she tried to turn around. “Zelda!”

Fan Joy July Masterpost

them

[folkloresthings]

BECCA!! Congrats on 1k, I love your writing and I’m glad so many other people do too <3

NORTHANGER ABBEY — send a muse + your favourite trope and i’ll write a drabble/blurb.

Could you do Sebastian Vettel + pining/unrequited love but with a happy end? (Kind of à la Amy & Laurie in little women??)

AMY AND LAURIE CODED!!! spot the little women refs

SOMEDAY. ❨ sebastian vettel x reader ❩

✩⡱ warnings: mention of v*mit

the light of sebastian’s presence had lit your life for as long as you could — or wanted to remember. young when you’d first met, you at nineteen and him twenty—four, donning his red bull gear and a world championship. the bar in which you had met wasn’t anything special, tucked away in the heart of valencia. you were travelling with friends, he was working his way towards his second championship.

it was easy to spot him across the bar, all blonde curls and dazzling eyes. a woman hung on his arm, whispering in his ear while a friend—of—a—friend introduced you both. he’d barely looked at you, probably to preoccupied with how the woman’s hands were wandering further south by the minute.

your best friend was more of a racing fan than you, and had coincidentally planned the route of your travels across europe to coincide with the grand prix schedule. the next time you saw him was in budapest, nursing the same drink he’d had in spain but arms bare of playthings for the night.

“vodka soda, please.”

“i remember you,” he had slurred, pointing aimlessly towards you as you spoke across to the barman. “valencia!”

you assumed his exclamation of the city was his connecting of the dots, so you sent him a nod and a small smile. “yeah, we both know joseph.”

“joseph, right,” sebastian mused, vague familiarity dancing across his features. “good guy.”

he looked just as handsome that night as he had in valencia, though slightly drunker. you had heard the tales of the good—looking german driver, your friend spent most of your train journeys across countries gushing about him and half a dozen other names you didn’t recognise.

“here, my treat,” sebastian quickly cut across you before you could pay, shoving a few euros into the barman’s hand. you didn’t bother arguing — he was a world famous formula one driver and you were a full time university student. he could afford a vodka soda better than you could.

“thank you, sebastian.”

“you’re welcome…” he trailed off, searching desperately in his memory for your name.

“y/n,” you offered, a grin tugging at your lips. you couldn’t find it in yourself to be annoyed at his lack of attention, not when his eyes were shining up at you the way they were. he repeated it, your birthright sounding far nicer on his tongue than your own. he’d shaken your hand then, ordering an apology round of shots for his “shameful behaviour”.

a few hours later, you held his belongings as he vomited into an empty alleyway. the streets of budapest were practically deserted, town clock chiming three in the morning. sebastian’s challenge of shot after shot soon became a competition with only himself, ending up much drunker than yourself and with no one around to supervise his stupidity.

thankfully, tucked somewhere in his pocket, was the address of his hotel. you got him there, eventually, after a few stops to sit down or sebastian’s several attempts to climb a wall. you took him all the way to him room, getting him into bed and leaving a note and some painkillers by his side.

from then on, you were friends. even when you went back to university, he did all he could to fly you out to races and let you see a little more of the world. australia, japan, abu dhabi… you’d been there to see him win every world championship, to hug him and celebrate with one too many drinks afterwards. you were still always the one to tuck him in after.

the only problem was, amongst this wonderful friendship, you were completely and utterly in love with him.

he didn’t feel the same. you figured that out one night in monaco when he took you for dinner and snuck you down to the beach afterwards. you kissed him on the sand, naive and innocent, only twenty and unsure of what this would mean. he’d been kind about it, sweet as ever, letting you indulge yourself before letting you down slowly.

“maybe someday, when you’re older.”

his words played in your mind like a broken record every birthday from them on. would this be the year? you tried going out with other boys, but none of them compared to him. your sebastian. every year you got older, so did he, and soon you were twenty—six and him thirty—one.

in those years, you were glad for his wise, older words. they’d kept your friendship intact, giving you your person — the one you could talk to in good times and bad. no matter how painful your love for him was, never fading over time, you kept it all down for the sake of keeping him in your life.

“penny for your thoughts?” sebastian’s usual teasing tone pulls you from your thoughts, the montage of your relationship playing in your head. you glance up at him, forcing on a smile.

“sorry, zoned out for a minute,” you breathed out a laugh, smoothing down the skirt of your dress in the mirror. “how do i look? do i look alright?”

sebastian took a moment to let his eyes rake over your body. the dress was a pale blue colour, adorned with pale white flowers that floated about your ankles. he could only describe it as soft, a light summer dress that moved with the wind but hugged your lines perfectly. god, you were heavenly.

“you look beautiful. you are beautiful.” sebastian’s face had softened considerably, looking at you in a way that could almost be mistaken for love. you stare at him, yearning to decipher the thoughts in his head, but you come up empty.

inhaling some feeling back into your body, you move from his gaze. “i better go. robb will be waiting.”

robb. sebastian had been with you when you met. a grand event, drivers and socialites alike. sebastian had gone to get you both a drink when he returned to find the man flirting with you. you were smiling and laughing, your hand finding it’s place on the man’s arm. sebastian turned on his heel and left you to it, finishing both of your drinks in his stride.

since then, you had been to dinner with robb twice. he was charming, funny and sweet, knew just how to woo you. admittedly, you struggled to find the spark that people often spoke of, but you were willing to pass it up for a chance at some kind of romance. sebastian, however, found himself battling with this strange feeling in his stomach every time you spoke to him about robb.

he could feel it again now, watching you skip off to meet your date. twisting and tugging, nausea rising in his chest. it was a new feeling, and one that he hated having. it was selfish of him but he couldn’t help it — you had been his for so long, only his, and now you were slipping away.

“ — but it’s far too cold there to live all year…” chuckling at robb’s latest tale, you felt the words on your tongue fade as he appeared nearby. you had told sebastian where you and robb were going, a small jazz bar with expensive cocktails and live music. so why had he come?

“seb?”

he smiled, brows furrowing in faux confusion. “oh, hey you two. fancy seeing you here.”

if looks could kill, sebastian would be six feet under by now. your glare was cold, but missed completely by robb as he engaged in conversation with your friend. for the next thirty minutes, you didn’t say a word. you didn’t get a chance, with robb asking sebastian a million questions on racing and the latter gladly entertaining him.

“excuse me,” you muttered, grabbing your bag and pushing yourself from the chair. your date barely noticed, staring at a picture on sebastian’s phone. the blonde watched you go, snatching his device back and following you without a second thought.

“hey, y/n! wait!” he hurried after you down the street, struggling to keep up with your hurried pace. “y/n!”

his arm reached out to grab you, spinning you on your heel to face him. he knew with one look that you were mad, and he suddenly regretted every choice he’d made that evening. “what?”

“where are you going?” he asked, rather sheepish.

“i’m going home, sebastian,” your voice was sharp, cheeks red with anger and embarrassment. “my date seems pretty occupied with you in there, so i’m leaving.”

“no, wait…” he grappled desperately, grabbing at your wrist again to keep you there. his lips part, searching for an excuse, but nothing comes out.

“you knew i was coming here tonight! why would you show up when you knew?” seething, tears pricked at your eyes. you cursed yourself for the german making you such a mess. “i told you how excited i was and you purposely came to ruin it! why?”

sebastian sighed, silent. all of that jealously turned to hatred, for himself and his stupid, stupid heart. “i’m sorry.”

you looked at him, waiting for more. needing more than just that.

“i’m sorry, i just — i hated seeing you so happy,” as soon as it was out, as soon as he saw your face twist, he knew it didn’t sound right. “no, shit. not like that. i wasn’t the one making you happy and it felt awful. i didn’t want to see you with anyone else. y/n… i’ve been such an idiot.”

the words sunk in as he tried to tangle his fingers in you, squeezing himself closer to you in the street. your head shook, backing away with every inch he moved closer.

“no, no. seb, don’t do this,” you muttered, ignoring his pleas for your forgiveness. you felt dizzy, all of this coming to soon. “seb, you’re being mean. stop it.”

with your voice sterner, he took a step back.

“i’ve waited for you for seven years. i waited and you never came, but the second i find somebody else you figure it out?” tongue laced with disbelief, you felt your feet stumble on the cobbles below. sebastian reached out to you, worry crossing his face. he felt terrible. he’d put you through so much and expected even more.

“i know,” sebastian whispered, daring to step closer again. you let him now, proving yourself weak to his affection once again. his hand finds your cheek, warming it from the night air, your head resting against his hold. “i’m a fool. i didn’t realise it before but i’ve been in love with you for so long. i don’t know when it happened, but it did. and there’s nothing i can do about it but beg you to forgive me.”

your eyes turn soft, melting into his confessional. everything you’d waited for and dreamed of, the words that haunted you for years of sleepless nights. it was happening and none of it felt real. seven years of wanting it, and now you were hesitant.

“will you forgive me?” sebastian pleads, thumbs rubbing gently at the flesh of your cheeks. his lips, ready for yours, but not until you are. “i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. i promise.”

you smile, because how can you not? when he’s looking at you like you’re the one who hung the moon and the stars — but he’s the sun. your sun, your light, your love.

“yes.” it’s a whisper when it finally comes, but he hears it. his own smile creeps up, squeezing you in delight.

“yes?” he repeats, waiting for you to confirm it again. you do, and he wastes no time in kissing you. not like that night on the beach, young and unsure, but full of love and certainty. because he loves you, with everything he is, and he needs to show you. all soft lips and daring tongues, arms winding around your waist to pull you flush to him.

he loves you and you love him. at the end of the day, or seven years, there’s nothing else that really matters.

[loveroped]

Decided to write for the cat dad au :D

Scar/Ariana and just fluff

no warnings needed I think!

Excerpt! Full drabble under line

"You're staring a bit, you know?" The words snapped him out of his thoughts. A voice seemingly smooth like honey, and soft as a blanket. Maybe it wasn't, but it felt like that.

"I didn't notice," he lied. A soft smile dotting his face. A smile he wore all too often these past days.

Ariana chuckled, it was similar to the way she sung. Perfect maybe.

The room smelled of a morning orange. A morning, tiring yet a start.

Scar originally hadn't wanted to get up at all, having rather just stayed in bed and slept his life away. But old promises were made, and they were going to the mall today. Early, if they went later it would be loud and crowdy, if they went too late nothing would be there.

He's almost sure he could hear Kitten jumping around outside his bedroom door. He wondered where he got the energy, so early on the morning.

But it was now, wasn't it? The thought brought a smile to his face.

Scar sat on his bed with his hands between his legs, rocking himself back and forward. He was done getting ready, he wasn't sure what else do to.

He found himself staring as Ariana wandered around the room, living as if the room was hers.

He'd never be able to tell himself how he ended up in something that seemed so softly pink, yet so velvet red. Time where his fingers would trace over his hand, and minutes later he would have a hand to hold. He didn't often believe in luck, but he'd consider himself the luckiest. And he's not sure what he ever did to deserve this.

The room smelled orange and pastel pink.

"You're staring a bit, you know?" The words snapped him out of his thoughts. A voice seemingly smooth like honey, and soft as a blanket. Maybe it wasn't, but it felt like that.

"I didn't notice," he lied. A soft smile dotting his face. A smile he wore all too often these past days.

Ariana chuckled, it was similar to the way she sung. Perfect maybe.

"You doing okay?" Her tone was full of teasing, but the care wrapped around the words was so clear. It made Scar’s mind feel like a haze, chocolate coated.

Maybe his cheeks were a bit warm. Could he be considered lovesick? Lovestruck?

Maybe that's why he spoke before he could even think.

"It's something about the way you look at me—" Talk to me, love me, think about me, something. "—as if I'm your whole world."

Maybe the words had been illogical. He barely had time for his mind to catch up, his cheeks growing warm when it did.

A giggle, maybe he shouldn't have expected more. And he hadn't wanted less. He was really smitten, wasn't he?

The room smelled of orange and Ariana's perfume.

"That 'cause you are."

Four words, nothing more, and Scar had heard no lies. No real ones and none that he imagined to be there. It seemed unusual, surprising.

He rubbed his palms again eachother.

"Normally I would've argued if someone said that," his words were slightly breathy, still just a tiny bit tired. He didn’t like waking up early.

"It seems illogical and far-fetched."

He watched patiently as Ariana kept moving around their room. Putting everything they needed in the bag.

"But when it comes to you I just—" And he's not sure what he does. He believes, he can actually see it. He doesn’t feel the stabbing amount of guilt or shame. He feels a velvet blanket made just for him. And maybe his tone exposed that, or the way he smiled at the end.

Ariana smiled back.

"Are you guys coming? You're so slow!" A shout rang out from behind the door, making both of them turn their head to the source of it. Maybe they'd been talking too long. Scar didn’t mind.

Ariana laughed, quickly closing the bag and ready to walk over to the door. But she makes a quick beeline towards Scar just to give him a peck on the forehead, like she's done a million times before.

"I guess I'm doing it right then."

And Scar couldn't help but hold her hand and linger for just a moment as she walked over to the oh, so far door, that was five feet away from him.

His cheeks felt warm, the room smelled orange.

Just as she passed through the door, she looked back at Scar for just a second. "Don't take too long, yeah? Or he'll get all grumpy," she spoke under her breath, pulling a chuckle out of Scar just as she closed the door.

And maybe for the first time that morning he let himself take a deep breath and close his eyes. A velvet blanket over his mind, just for him. Something about it.

He was tired.

"—or do you wanna use the backpack?"

"I'm walking today!—"

The words sounded through the door. Domestic almost.

The room smelled of orange, and pink perfume. It smelled of home.

It was early, and Scar was nothing more than tired. And Scar was nothing less than in love.

[miscelunaaa]

spin cycle 22 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x female reader

genre: drabble series, slow burn, idiots to lovers, fluff, lil bit of angst, eventual smut

summary: This random guy has started doing laundry at your favorite laundromat each week (at the same time as you, no less!) and to be honest, it’s going to be a problem. You’re just not sure how yet.

rating: 18+ for eventual smut

word count: less than 500

warnings: The Green Pajama-ish Outfit finally makes an appearance. Casual Koo™️. Define the relationship convos. Lil bit of kissing :)

notes: ALRIGHTY KIDS I HAVE MADE A DECISION ABOUT SCHEDULINGGGGGG. It’s going to be weekly! Cuffing Szn ended up being a whole four parts so each thing will post once a week (this on Mondays, Cuffs on Thursdays) until they’re done, which should be about half way through June! At that point in time, I’ll take a little break to recharge and focus on some other projects :) it’s exciting!! We’re so close to the end!! I’m so excited to share this all with you. Hope you’re having a good start to your week <3

my masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3

previous | series masterlist | next

When you walk into the laundromat several hours later, you’re not even sure it’s all real. You know you need to talk to him while you’re both here. It’s the perfect time to do it; there are no prying eyes or ears.

You glance at the time on your phone. 2 AM on the dot. Shortly after you’ve set your bag and basket down, you look up to see Jungkook walking in. He’s similarly laden with his bag and his laundry, but something seems different. As he comes closer, you see what’s bothering you.

His whole outfit is see-through. His whole fucking outfit is this olive green, houndstooth lace pattern that lets you see all of the skin he’s revealing beneath. You already know he wears boxer briefs for fuck’s sake; you’ve only been doing laundry at the same time as each other for what feels like months, so of course you’ve seen him carefully fold his own underwear. But like, you weren’t expecting to see just how they fit over his very muscular thighs. You weren’t expecting to see how … built he is tonight. Again, this isn’t knew information to you! Maybe it’s just this outfit. It’s just so revealing.

Ah fuck, he’s noticed you checking him out. He’s got a little weird little smirk on his face. He knows. He knows that you were without a doubt wondering what those thighs would be like wrapped around your—

“How’s your evening been?” he asks, as he slips into the seat next to yours. To your shock, he even leans over and gives you the softest, gentlest kiss on your cheek. He pulls away to start rummaging in his bag, looking for his laundry money.

Is this what you are to each other now? He did it with such ease, like it was the most natural thing in the world. When he turns back to look at you, however, you see his ears are flushed the slightest pink.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you say. “I’m just … That was nice.” You let yourself smile shyly.

Do you regret the compliment when he blinds you with his own dazzling smile? Perhaps. You’re lucky your new boyfriend is so … wait …

“So I suppose we need to have a conversation,” you say, rising to go to your customary machine to start your first load. “Define the relationship or whatever.”

“Yeah, probably,” Jungkook follows you, fiddling with his coin pouch and listening to the metal clank together. “We should get dinner. Or I can cook. We could watch a movie. Maybe make out on the couch.”

“Namjoon told me you like video games, we could—”

Your heart stops as you feel him brush against your back. Suddenly, just as you’re starting to feed quarters into the machine, you feel his arms wrap around your middle. He starts kissing the nape of your neck.

“This okay?” His voice is low and warm against your skin.

“Y-yeah, aren’t you worried about being seen though?”

Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work.Thank you.

posted: 5.30.2022

[jiminrings]

I REQUEST A SOFT BADBOY DRABBLE WITH SHY READER AND HES TEASING HER BUT SOMEONE ELSE JOIMS IN AND THEYRE DOING IT TO BE MEAN BUT HES LIKE STFU BEFORE I PUMCH UR FACE ONLY IM ALLOWED TO BULLY SHY READER GRR 😡😡😡😡 and soft readers like 0.o but *squeals incoherently* 😭😭😭😭

last name, jeon.

drabble week: day two

drabble week masterlist

pairing: badboy!jungkook x shy!reader

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: "can't you tell that i really don't want you to be here?"

notes: a tiny change on the plot!! also: frat boy!jimin from day four makes an appearance :D

feedback + support mean the world to me!!

“do you wanna form-“

... yes

you DO have an alliance with jungkook

it's a very fair trade honestly

he pretends to be your boyfriend!! there's no specific boundaries to it, but he springs into action as soon as you're put into an inconvenience

in exchange, you whore him out to your friends!!! :D

no but literally that's how he called it

the whole reason this came to be in the first place is because you hATE confrontation with a burning passion

especially when it comes to those "i have a crush on you" moments that people spring on you all of a sudden

you don't like them back!!! that's the truth!!! but the problem is that you aLWAYS feel guilty letting people down

you obviously don't have the obligation to like someone back just because you sit next to them in class :// IT'S JUST IN YOUR NATURE TO FEEL THAT WAY

you wouldn't get into a relationship with said confessor to ease your guilt, clearly

do you plan on denying their advances? yes

but hOW????

you always take the passive-aggressive approach

you get jungkook to carry your bag and hold your hand, walk in front of said person and pretend not to see them, jungkook makes sURE to put some snide eye contact in there aaaaand the whole ordeal is finished :D

you've managed to let someone down slowly without having to speak to them in-person!!!

jungkook comes more handy than that too

you take him when you want to eat out because you're too anxious to eat alone

you take him when you want to go somewhere in which lining up is essential and you're also too anxious to stand by yourself

you take him when you want to go shopping when there's a sale but you're almost always intimidated by the barrage of people and salespeople so he asks and answers the questions for you

jungkook, in hindsight, is the perfect fake boyfriend for you <3

ALSO jungkook wants something from you

"whore me out to the girls from the families your family's friends with, and it's a deal :D"

that alliance and exchange is going pretty well so far

you mAY be on the more-reserved side but that doesn't mean you're self-aware!!!

you know that your parents are loaded and your shy nature could be somehow chalked to that since you didn't really have anyone that wasn't as non-superficial as you'd like, since they were the overprotective helicopter two-rotor seven-blade parents :(((

jungkook, however, is the only constant you have in your formula

you've known him since childhood and have been friends ever since

his mom's your mom's personal assistant, and one day when mrs. jeon couldn't find a babysitter for jungkook, your mom didn't hesitate to let four-year old jungkook come with her to work

jungkook's your fIRST actual friend that hates gold spoons with you because of how tacky they look :-) he's your emotional support person basically

your emotional support person who was sO close to running late from picking you up during his free day >:( you were about to break into a sprint if he arrived a second later, because you managed to spot a jock coming to you from the corner of your eye awhile ago

You Do Not Like Him <3

"and i even changed into a short-sleeved shirt to ward off your suitors. how romantic of me, don't you think?"

now that he mentions it, it's only now when you can drink him in in full-display

... wow

his right arm's the only one with his tattoos while his left's completely blank, but something about the balance just makes you !!!!!!!! even more

his arm's not completely covered but it was coming to be, something about the blank spaces of skin that are yet to be inked being a nice touch

"very romantic, kook."

now tHAT'S the answer he wanted to hear

he forcibly on your helmet for you to showcase, your grunts of annoyance being drowned out by whistling

(he's even looking left and right and making eye contact with anyone who has their eyes landing on you!!!!)

your cheeks smushed is a look he'll never be tired being in awe of, but he'll never tell you that, of course

"do you ever wonder if your parents would kill me if i misplace even a single hair on you?" jungkook thinks out loud and you don't even flinch with how sudden his thoughts could be, sitting on his seat first so it'd already be balanced when you do, "you sure you’re okay riding with me?? on a motorcycle????"

he usually uses yOUR family's vehicles (they let him and insisted he just takes one at this point) but when you called him, he was en route to kim kradle (it's a one-stop vehicle shop apparently) to get new rims for his motorcycle, bUT NOT ANYMORE HE GUESSES????

you come first compared to the booking he's waited on for three weeks

"i have insurance, i think."

no that's the wrong answer

why did you even bother.,,.,

jungkook flicks your nose because your forehead's protected by the helmet, his face contorted in half faux frustration

"you were supposed to be mad at me for asking that — not logical!! don't even joke about that."

"... my life insurance? like, in the instance that i-"

oW THAT HURT

he flicked even harder this time!!!

you roll your eyes at him and it doesn't go unnoticed, a hand outstretching instead of his fingers flexing

“wallet, please.”

????

jungkook's surprised that you even look confused, this time rolling his eyes at you

“you rolled your eyes at me. you need to bribe me so i won’t rat you out.”

right

he has a never-ending knack for the you're rich jokes

you also know that he likes the cold and would turn the fan on even if it's too hot for a blanket, just because he wants to feel cocooned

you also know that he picks from the fourth row of drinks from the front because it's always been a habit

("the germs cling on to the first row!!!")

you also know that maybe, just maybe, you can't stand it tonight when he's putting himself out there instead of being your faux boyfriend

you keep on zoning out and hoseok, perhaps the only tolerable fellow rich kid you can tolerate within your circle, finally connects the dots in his head and snickers

he's been talking about finding the vintage sneakers he's always wanted on depop and how he almost got scammed for like tWENTY minutes already

in reality, all your nods and scowls aren't towards his story

it's to jungkook and... who's that? jihye whose dad is so colossally shitty, that this one rapper wrote a diss song for him? oh yeah, that jihye

"you like him. like actually 'lose your virginity to him' love him."

WHAT???

there's no way

"how did you-"

"you blush like one."

alright that answer was too quick

hoseok should've ATLEAST tried to wait for a few seconds before answering

"a-and the love part?"

"babe, jungkook may not be the richest one here and that should say a lot," you peer up at him nervously and he actually chuckles, peering to everyone at this function, "dude's humble — he could also just be dense to not see you love him."

okay very true

hobi's making a dig rn at how jungkook coinicidentaally happens to be blonde and maybe this is your cue to leave

hobi does not realize that his hair is aLSO dyed blonde while talking shit about jungkook and his hari

okay this is it

once again, you are NOT listening to hoseok and he's figured out what you're doing by now

you're psyching yourself up with a couple of shots and your heels are digging on the carpeted ballroom

MAYBE YOU SHOULD TRY TO BE MORE OUTGOING!!

"pretend to wobble. it doesn't help that nothing can sink you."

oh okay makes sense

if you're gonna try and charm jungkook while trying to play it off as just being tipsy playfulness, atleast make it believable

hoseok snickers because this is just A+ content with the things that you choose to do in your way

shy girl with high alcohol tolerance mannn coming of age film writers would LOVE you ://

you're about to cross the distance between you and jungkook, but something knocks you on your shoulder with a gentle force that seemed intentional

is that-

hold on a second

"what a coincidence :O"

jimin?

jimin???

as in, wholesome yet slightly fuckboy-ish frat guy jimin???

he looks dashing and composed, meeting your eyes perfectly and he doesn't let your confusion startle him

"i know that look. what am i doing here?"

he says it eloquently as if he's practiced it

AND HE DID!!!

you must've looked so shocked that you immediately apologized, shaking your head no

"i-i didn’t mean-..."

you're confused, sure, but that doesn't mean you're immediately judging

it's just that you never saw jimin here or any function of the like, but you wouldn't put it past him if he does go to these things!!! he looks like a million dollars anyways

"relax, doll. you’re so far the only other person i know that i've seen in these type of things."

he looks calm and collected, but maybe that's just because he spent the last five minutes waiting for you to stand so he could bump into you

this place is just sO suffocating and a familiar face is gonna be his relief from something so fancy that it became mundane

"have we been in the same event before this?"

"not that i recall, no. i get invited but this is only the first time after awhile that i went."

jimin drinks from his champagne flute, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, "wanna know why i'm here?"

you're curious!!! what can you say!!!!

you never really interacted with jimin at all before this, but a familiar face like his is comforting

because hoseok's already engaged in another conversation and jungkook's,,,, being jungkook and is fawning all over jihye

jimin chuckles at your insistent nodding, leaning closer to whisper to your ear

"my stepdad’s loaded as fuck."

oh so that's why

he tugs you down to sit at the nearest possible empty chairs, all its occupants gone anyways because they're in the dancefloor busting tRULY horrendous moves

maybe it's because jimin feels lonely too like you are, and it's him feeling comfortable because he's pulled you like ten seconds ago and not once asked him anything out of bounds

maybe that's why he fell into conversation with you easily because you're always intently listening

"might love me as a real son too. maybe that’s a bonus? you don’t really expect that shit in the things you see."

this situation is actually pretty cute

you snort because maybe you’re nOT that shy when you drink,, that’s the only thing that changes in you probably

this whole conversation that sprung from boredom was unknowingly the subject of many stares, including jungkook who you were initially supposed to go to

“you’re worthy of love, jimin.”

:O

jimin sPITS his drink because where the fuck did THAT come from???

why did you say that and why does he feel that he needed to hear that

“i-i think — i think you need more,” he raises his own glass to your lips hurriedly, caught in surprise but you still gulp nonetheless

“you’re-“ you keep sputtering as he keeps making you drink, but he rubs circles on your back at the same time and it's when you realize that jimin the frat guy may not be that bad, “what??? don’t think you’re not the only one with daddy issues! shouldn’t we have like, a radar for each other?”

jimin snorts at your counter and his eyes crinkle to the point where he can't see anything, not being able to see how you're still trying to recover with all that fizz down your throat

wow ur really enjoyable to talk to

“you’re insane and i think-“

listen

you're not really big on feeling beyond a sense and all that stuff, but you feel as if the aura around you just got dark all of a sudden

"who are you calling insane?"

jungkook appears at your side in an instant, hands wrapped around your shoulders while you remain seated

you've honestly forgotten that you were supposed to go to jungkook, but you're reminded of that vERY clearly now

"go away, jimin," he mutters through his teeth, looking at him dead in the eye

hold on

wait

THAT'S JIMIN???

okay now he's confused

sometimes jungkook's mouth just moves on its own without loading the thought process

"why are YOU here?"

jimin furrows his brows, shocked that he'd even see jungkook here out of all people

the guy barely even attends classes!!! and that's coming from him!!

"why’s he here?"

he crouches to your ear, eyes still furrowed at the younger guy

"long story."

nO???

jungkook scowls bitterly because jesus fuck

YOU’RE ON WHISPERING TERMS NOW????

he left for one second, and the moment he comes back, that's when this fucking frat guy approaches you?? was he waiting on him to leave??

you and jungkook only act as a couple when the need arises, and even if you don't feel it, hE feels that this is the need!!! this is the need and it is arising!!!

"get back to uh, alpha bravo charlie or something, park. beat it."

why’s he reciting the nato phonetic alphabet???

jungkook sounds half-angry and half-sad at the same time, and you don't know which side should you focus on

“move,” he repeats this time again but more sternly, making jimin much more confused since jungkook's trying to pull him away from his seat

jimin doesn't budge and it makes the frown even more evident in jungkook's face

what is he FEELING

“can’t you tell that i really don’t want you to be here?”

“i’m not here for you, though. i’m here for y/n.”

he answers honestly, shis gut telling him that there's definitely something going on between the two of you

“y/n doesn’t want you here," kook argues back surely, only noticing your bitten lips now that makes him realize that you're not exactly sober; just a happy kind of rush

he sees you raise your hand timidly, an equally cheeky smile on your face that's only directed to jungkook like it's meant for him

"i-i actually don’t mind."

you don't,,,

you don't mind?

HOW'S THAT POSSIBLE

WHAT ARE YOU DOING

why aren't you signaling him to commence the faux boyfriend act!!

"y/n has a boyfriend."

“... i’m not hitting on her.”

alright this is more than the entertainment that jimin wished for lol

“yeah, well she has a boyfriend still so beat it.”

you do??

the last time you checked, jihye's gonna have jungkook as her boyfriend within the night!!

“i don-“

ALRIGHT THEN

jimin decides to indulge jungkook, knocking his knee with yours as he winks slyly, urging you silently to watch on, turning to look at you and ask

“what’s your boyfriend’s name?”

you don't answer.

that gives him all the more reason to do so.

“last name, jeon.”

jungkook looks the most determined you've ever seen him, eyes characteristically angry with his arms across his chest that his suit tightens, “first name, me.”

....

......

the three of you know that’s not the truth

jimin takes it in, sighing when he sense that something else is about to be unfold and he does noT want to be a part of it

not before whispering to your ear again for the last time, of course

“pretty weird name if you ask me,” you laugh automatically, momentarily forgetting that jungkook's standing by you on just your opposite side and could hear you

he leaves and that only leaves you with jungkook, looking up at him as he's too frantic to even sit

“what are you doing?”

“being a social butterfly," you quip just as fast, drinking your water afterwards

jungkook only clenches his jaw by then, being taken-aback when you speak again

“who are you doing?”

://

“i’m busy being mad at- wait a minute, WHO???”

who instead of what??

the short-lived enthusiasm you had with jimin left with him, crashing just as hard when you're reminded of jungkook's presence

“jihye’s a pretty nice girl. you should go home early tonight.”

his brows furrow, trying to get you to look at him but you avoid his gaze insistently, “what? what are you talking about?”

“she’s not my girlfriend though.”

you're not at all satisfied with the answer because it sounds so wrong, knowing that jungkook's a handsome guy and everyone wants to be with him!!!

and he probably wants to be with everyone else besides you.

“then who-...”

“don’t know yourself anymore? jimin must’ve really swept you off your feet, huh?”

jungkook huffs as he qualifies for a rebutt, your internal wallowing being cut short

“he’s not my boyfriend.”

...

....

“well would you look at that,” jungkook snickers, sighing through his nose as your eyes finally meet his, directly stubborn yet soft around the edges

“she’s not my girlfriend, and he’s not your boyfriend. what a coincidence.”

god did he feel so threatened the moment his eyes couldn't find you besides hobi and instead next to jimin, eyes crinkled in laughter without hesitation

have you been chasing after one another this whole time?

jungkook silently grabs you by the hand and you wave no opposition to it

maybe it's your liquor-influenced vision or maybe it's you hyperfixating on such a warm moment, but your eyes immediately lock to see the matching red thread bracelet he wore like yours

you're dressed in next year's spring collection line, and the structured silk black gown that has a train behind it doesn't exactly scream to have a simple red thread bracelet as its accessory according to your mom's designer and everyone else —

but you don't have the heart to take it off

there's no need to take it off

jungkook drives your car and no one says a single thing about anything

his hand’s on your thigh and you don’t question it, eyes locking into the way his hand looks perfect and the way the bracelet looks meant to be wrapped in his wrist in the first place

you're sure this time that it's not the newfound courage you have, but rather the need to do it

you kiss jungkook's cheek on a red light.

it's on a red light that jungkook realizes he could fit the visage of his world within one hand, finally kissing you like he's always wanted to

“yeah. what a coincidence.”

[junko-and-riri-domain]

˚₊·˚ “babes” | ot7 ˚₊·˚

↬ pairing: ot7 x reader ↬ genre: fluff | drabbles | scenarios  ↬ warnings: none ↬ w/c: 1.3k ↬ requested by: 🤍 ↬ request was: Hihii I was wondering if you could do enhypens reaction to calling them things like baby or my love in your native language (excluding English and Korean) ↬ a/n (a few things !!)

since i clearly don’t what “my love” in everyone’s native language “babes” is the place holder word and you can imagine it as whatever “my love / love” is in your language !! also i haven’t done an ot7 post in a while so these might be kinda bad and lowkey might not make any sense 💔

also, the 500 followers event is closed (unless you decide to send one in tonight then i’ll still write it 👀 !! ) but somehow we hit 800 followers today !! how this blog managed to get like 200 followers while i was ia is beyond me 😭

but thank you everyone 🥺 i’ll be writing requests from the 500 followers throughout the week and responding to asks as well <33 

˚₊·˚♤˚· lee heeseung ˚₊·˚♤˚·

late one night you and hee are laying in bed, unable to sleep so you ask him,

“babes, wanna eat some ramen?” he’s like yes, ramen !! but wait,

“babes?” he asks. “isn’t that fish in russian?” (like that whole “te amo” means “i love you” in tagalog / filipino even though it actually means ‘i love you’ in spanish. but yeah, he’d probably think it was something completely different in another language lmao) once you realized what you just called him you tell him,

“it doesn’t mean fish, it means love in [insert your language].” the dots connect in his head and all of a sudden,

“i babes you,” you hear. you can’t help but smile at him and laugh a little because,

“that’s not how the grammar works, but at least you tried.” from then on if he wanted something from you he’d do aegyo and would say.

“babes, please !!”

˚₊·˚✎˚·  park jongseong / jay | self indulgent jay mini fic somewhat related to this req ˚₊·˚✎˚· 

you’re chilling with jay one day and all of a sudden,

“hey, babes can you hand me the remote?” you ask. suddenly he’s frozen in place, looking at you like,

“did you just call me love in [insert your language]?” you look at him, slightly tilting your head to the side and you’re all like,

“huh, i guess i did.” in his head, his mind is going crazy because what ?? you l-word him ?? but then you’re just like,

“wait, how do you know what that word means?” and then he gets all flustered and begins to ramble.

“i went on a YouTube spiral at four am, and, uh… uhh… yeah, i just heard it. it sounded unique so i sorta just remembered.”

“when?”

“like, a few weeks ago.”

“what were you watching?”

“the basics to [insert your language] 101.” you’re shocked but not really since jay is basically a language genius. but now your heart feels all fuzzy and warm because he’s learning your language.

˚₊·˚ ✁˚· sim jaeyun / jake ˚₊·˚ ✁˚·

if anything, you probably didn’t call him babes first. why? because you said it to layla. you stopped by jake’s place before the both of you went to your parent’s place. since you haven’t seen layla in a while, she instantly captured your attention (like she so rightfully deserves).

“babes, i missed you!” you say as you smile while petting her and seeing her tail wag in happiness. jake looks at the sight of the two loves of his life and can’t stop the way his heart flutters a little. he doesn’t want to ruin the moment but he wants your attention so he ends up sort of sitting on the ground next to layla and peeks up at you with wide eyes and a smile.

“babes?” he asked. you end up also sitting on the floor, layla settling onto your lap,

“it means love in [insert your language].” he frowns,

“you said you love layla before saying you love me?”

“who says i love you?” he gets kind of pouty because he knows that you love but he wants to hear it. some time passes and when you’re at your parent’s house, you’re talking to them and you tell them in [insert your language],

“i love jake.” he hears the word and his name in the same sentence. so he takes a chance and using the same sentence you said but with your name he says,

“i love ___.”

˚₊·˚ ❆˚· park sunghoon ˚₊·˚ ❆˚··

it probably slipped out in a moment of panic while the two of you were ice skating. sometimes you slipped into [insert your language] due to a surge of various emotions, sometimes anger, fear, or frustration. sunghoon had asked if you wanted to go on a date to the new rink that just opened and you said yes because ice skating with hoon, how could you miss the opportunity ?? he was holding your hand and skating to your pace trying to teach you how to ice skate. but somewhere down the line, he ended up letting go without you realizing it (like when you ride a bike and the person behind you holding the bike lets go !!) so you turn around, eyes wide at the distance between you and sunghoon and you’re like,

“YAH, BABES YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T LET GO,” and all of a sudden you lose your balance. thankfully, sunghoon being the great skater that he is manages to get to you and holds so you so that you don’t fall. you’re clutching onto his jacket, trying to catch your breath, “i hate you,” you mutter. he smiles as he moves your hair to get out of your face,

“yeah, keep telling yourself that. wait? what does babes mean?” he asks.

“it means love in [insert your language].” suddenly, ice king composure melts. heart going a hundred miles a minute. mind is all like wait what? he accidentally loses his footing and balance, falling while taking you down with him but you’re fine since you landed on top of him.

“are you ok, babes?” he asks to at least try and keep some cool because even though you’re in an ice skating rink, it suddenly feels as if things just got a hundred degrees hotter.

˚₊·˚❂˚· kim sunoo ˚₊·˚❂˚·

he had been interested in learning about your language and culture, mostly for the food… but a+ for effort, right? he would often ask you, “what does this mean?” “what does that mean?” that kind of stuff, since he was genuinely curious. he picked up a few words here and there, occasionally using a word that he knew in a sentence while talking to you. your family asked you to bring him over for a family gathering / party situation sometimes it felt like they liked him more than you. you were sitting down with a plate of food,

“babes, can you hand me a napkin?” suddenly, your and sunoo’s ears are filled with the sounds of “OOO” and your family begins teasing you. to yourself, you’re just like, did i really just call sunoo… but when you look at sunoo his smile is the widest it’s ever been

“you called me love, matji, matji?” (matji meaning like “right” in korean, idk it just felt right to spell that out here ok anyways)

“how did… how did you know?” and he does that thing where he kind of giggles,

“you just confirmed it!”

˚₊·˚✧˚· yang jungwon ˚₊·˚✧˚·

one night jungwon was dropping you off to the front of your doorstep to make sure you got home safe and sound. you were trying to be cute and said,

“saramhae” (saram means person in korean, but what you really meant to say was, “saranghae” which means i love you in korean). jungwon then does that thing where he smirks at you, tilting his head slightly, and he says,

“nado saramhae, babes.” (so like “i love you too, [love in insert your language]” but it’s saramhae because that’s what you said at first) but then,

“babes?” you ask. he plays it off by saying,

“i’m the leader, i need to learn how to communicate in different languages for engenes.” but really it’s just secret language learner pt. 2 exposed.

˚₊·˚⍢˚· nishimura riki / ni-ki ˚₊·˚⍢˚·

ni-ki’s head was on your lap, eyes closed since he was taking a nap and decided your lap was the best thing to claim as his pillow. you needed to get up so to wake him, you poked his cheeks,

“ni-ki,” you said. nothing.

“riki-ah?” this time as more of a question while lightly patting his hair. also nothing.

“babes, if you don’t wake up i’m gonna shove you off my lap.” suddenly, his eyes open and he looks up at you which causes you to jump back in your seat slightly.

“bae-ehbs?” he asks, trying to sound out the word.

“uh huh.”

“wait doesn’t that mean, love?”

“no… it means pabo,” you reply playfully. (pabo meaning like dum dum / stupid in korean, but it’s not meant to sound offensive here !!)

“no it means ‘love’ jay hyung told me about that word when i started dating you.”

“well, if you knew then why’d you ask?”

“wait, so it actually does mean love?”

“you just said jay told you!”

“yeah but i didn’t believe him.” at the confirmation of the word’s true meaning, he feels happy and kind of giddy at the new name he’s earned for himself from you. like heeseung, he’d use it to get something that he wants from you but instead of aegyo it’s more like teasing.

↬ a/n pt. 2 + semi tmi: i speak two languages and i suck at both, english and my parent’s native language. two & a quarter if you count the bare minimum of spanish i learned from taking it during the first two years of high school and the few words of korean i picked up from kdramas lmao 😭

❦ written by riri ( @enhykkul​ ) | blog masterlist | blog navigation

↬ tagging: @bloom-bloom-pow​ | @markleepooh​ | @sunshineshouchan​ (permanent taglist is open if anyone wants to be in it !!)

[fisherrprince]

ask dump (big long)

1) ABDBHTDND YEAH THEY DID UM, they did the ”no THANK you..! etc etc BUT IM WEAK” song too! Wild how that is now. points at them hey I know those guys

2) OHHH….. THIS HITS……….. I like missio sometimes but this is a nice chorus also: Vanitas… yeah I, like, always love music recs. they can be hit or miss but it’s only fair with how much music I find and then immediately go what if I showed everyone

3) how many does he have in there now, eleven? Twelve??? He signed up for one mouse and he got eleven human children or at least nine to ten human children, two young adults, and two regular adults who aren’t going to be helpful—

4) aaaaaaaaa thank you!!! 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

5) MMM I haven’t thought extensively about cowboys for a while… it’s been mostly space up here for now, haha. I like my space murder. But that’s not to say I haven’t given them some fond passing thoughts! Two bros sitting in a river 5 feet apart cos they’re covered in mud and smell awful and one of them is very loudly blaming the other for the plan that involved hiding behind a barn (actually the last thing I wrote in my notes is a mini totally unfinished drabble of hiding in Lea’s bar but the “great hiding place” Lea has is in his floor)

6) gosh I Have to wonder if it’s a case of destiny/universal “the nature of humanity is that every so often someone invents homestuck again” or if we just, like, had common knowledge of the book of prophecies. Or not even the Book, maybe, I have to assume that knowledge/observance of the Foretellers phased out pretty quickly, but prophecies left unfulfilled would linger for generations probably. Or maybe they’re even old stories, a tale of seven masters of the past drawn in to a chess game, or the game based on the old fairytales, or the numbers 7 and 13 are ingrained in local culture … see, because obviously Xehanort implies that this prophecy/old masters stuff ISNT common knowledge, but Eraqus CERTAINLY knows about it and it’s in all the architecture/local myths… ok but then also, if we’re to take the opening chess game as more than just clever symbolic narrative bookends, everyone’s symbols ARE right there. I just kind of registered that’s probably what you were talking about. In which case our questions are still there, how much did the common populace know and how much did eraqus know? Did he like, end up with three apprentices who had very distinct chess symbols as keychains and go uh oh john or what—

hey why’d you do this to me. I’m a tired college student in scala on my sixth response paper about the prophetic legitimacy of foreordained keybearers versus the self-imposed creation of destiny as following common legend and I’m arguing with some guy named Einar about how you can’t just fake a prophetic fulfillment by claiming to be the Crown piece in chess. You can’t just KIN A CHESSPIECE, Einar.

7) ABGDJGD TY..!!! To be honest they also live in my head rent-free! Some of them need to start paying rent because I’m supposed to be in school getting Better at storyboarding—

8) hard same hey thats just bc magnet is uhhhh. The best spell? Aside from mine spells

9) SEE AGAIN I DONT KNOW bc for one Sora obviously isn’t ENTIRELY unique, if he’s able to be diagnosed so quickly, but this “holding your nobody and two to four other people in there” kind of thing probably has never been seen before. But for another, Roxas and Xion have copied a keyblade. Just like — a keyblade? Copied entirely? Wild.

anyways keyblade manifestation is a mystery to me and I’d love to see it explored because what we know the Lore is, is this: they were fashioned after the likeness of the x-blade. They can be bequeathed to others (shown to not necessarily mean that exact keyblade is passed down, probably this means the ability to wield can be bequeathed). They can be WILLFULLY given. They come from the heart, they are not welded out of steel. They are…. questionably sentient, or maybe just sapient, or somehow are picky about who holds them. Side note khwiki is telling me things I Did not know about the whereabouts of Ven’s heart during 358 and also the ability to wield two which requires more than one heart obvi but which is named synch blade??? always question the wiki but these have sources. Anyways. Keychains can swap their forms so they have a Base and Custom Skins mode. There are three kinds, Light (common), Darkness (Michael mouse??? Not his bbs one the rod one which I GUESS is a counterpa Iiiiii am getting off trackaaaaa), and Heart (which I’m guessing is just the x-blade, maybe the gayblade, and the kh1 keyblade of heart??). Um. What was my point here. OH yeah I was just gonna say Bro Wild. This is completely a mystery to me. Does every keykid’s base form keyblade look different, and we were all just given cool keychains? Are there some kids who melded unique keychains? If I were connecting dots wildly and with reckless abandon I’d say yeah and also you cannot just suddenly one day wield one, you HAVE to be bequeathed, but as soon as that happens it sparks the creation of your own personal heart sword. Every keyblade is manifested independently — those wielding a family keyblade have the ability to summon their own, if necessary, but the family sword is taking up that space in their heart and theyd have to get used to making their own. since, it seems, keyblades (summoned) will die and solidify if their bearer dies, but keyblades (unsummoned) will either disappear or summon themselves somewhere else and retain a small piece of your… essence. A legacy keyblade, I feel, would be a little something like feeling every past Avatar and you are the avatar, but you can’t talk to them. They’re there tho. Also I think that having an exceptionally strong heart would be not only a moral requirement for ensuring the keyblade’s duty is upheld, but also a physical requirement! youre carving out a bit of your heart to make room for a sword. Weak hearts should not do that even if they want to.

aye… how was that longer than the scala answer? You got me on tangents again in these essays I

10 (submission from licilou22)

NGDBFDBFSHGDHFDHGDA 😎👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼👉🏼 WHEEZING

[theguildedtypewriter]

Writing & Editing Update

Hello All!

Here's what has most recently been going on with the series and my writing. There's been some great development, so let's dive in.

What's Going On

Starting with Newborn City again.

Affinity for Pain has editor notes! My wonderful editor, Carrie, got back to me with some incredible insights and knowledge that was never passed on during college. Did you know there is a four-dot ellipses? Weird. I've also decided to make one major change to the book and right Ciaran's line without the dialect. I learned that it can actually be offensive to some, and I would never want that.

Burn the Bone is still looking for Delta Readers! Yes, a new term I've come up with just now for this fourth round of beta reading. You can learn more about BTB and if you'd like to be a Delta here.

Calling Evil Forth has words on the page! It's still trucking along when I'm not working on the edits for AFP.

Newborn City has Merch! Patreon has updated its merch offerings and I've included these in several tiers. It's images of Hope, Ciaran, and Red that I drew myself. Show your support and get cool stuff! It's a win-win. You can check it out here.

CBR writing is going great definitely check it out! That's right. Ya girl is writing for Comic Book Resource. I'm doing movies and gaming, with an emphasis on Dungeons & Dragons. Check out stuff by Rachel Johnson on cbr.com.

What I Want for the Future

Here's an update on those goals:

I want to grow my Patreon- I'm still struggling here. I'm not sure what I can do to encourage more support besides the offerings that I'm already providing. If you have any ideas I'd love to hear them. As of right now, you can join and get first access to my work first, custom drabbles based on your unique ideas (either a one-time snippet or one every month), merch, and help with editing and query letters.

Get Affinity for Pain self-published- This is going really well. I've been detailing my journey in my newsletter, so if you haven't signed up be sure to do so for exclusive self-publishing insights. You can do so on my website: rejohnsonbooks.com

Move Burn the Bone through Delta reading- I've got one great beta reader right now and I'd love more so that I know BTB will be ready for final editing and publishing next year.

Finish a first draft of Calling Evil Forth- Yes, I must finish getting the words on the page. It's slow but sure progress at this point.

That's all for now folks!

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

kim taehyung / reader [f] 

genre: royal/fantasy au, arranged marriage au, serpent prince!taehyung, priestess!reader, very soft romance, slow burn

warning(s)!!: slow burn (there is a lot of backstory oof), insecurity, jealous taehyung (who isn’t completely aware he’s jealous), heartache (a lot i’m sorry), hurt/comfort, almost nudity or translucent wet clothes, attempt at picking a fight/no-good townsfolk, past kidnap attempts, very minor depictions of violence, very breif mention of death, taehyung cries oops, y/n loves so much it hurts, taehyung being the most devoted boy to ever devote, obvs. religious themes (i.e. prayers, worship, offerings etc.), the royal family isn’t toxic and is in fact very sweet, jungkook is featured as a monk who refuses to cut his hair

w.count: 16.6k

Series | One-shot | Two-shot | Drabble | [Rated: PG-15 ]

synopsis: When he was born, Prince Taehyung was marked as the Serpent King’s Descendant with the mark of scales on his chest to prove it. As he grew up, he was appointed a playmate who would soon be training in the royal shrine as a maiden because of her unusually large spiritual power. They were pronounced engaged when Taehyung was just shy of his teenage years by royal command and he did nothing to fight the arrangement.  Now, you’re a grown woman and head of the shrine as the Center Priestess and devotee to the shrine and royal family with a heart filled almost too full of love for your future husband-to-be. When the wedding is announced and a ball is held in an advanced celebration you wonder, does your fiancé really want to marry you? Or is he just following his father’s royal orders? You don’t know what your heart can't take more: the idea of being rejected and unloved, or never knowing the true feelings of Prince Taehyung’s heart. 

t.list bc @lysannnnaa​ & @bella-victoria002​ wanted to be notified when it was posted!

The Serpent King was an old mythical king of ages that had stories upon stories spun about him.  

He was a man given the powers of a great sea serpent and among his journey to harness his powers and grow as the future king he knew he was destined to become, he traveled far and wide until he came upon an island.  This island was completely devoid of creatures- be it human or animal- aside from a giant snake he had found lay sleeping in a cave by the sea.  The Serpent King decided to make this island his home- and began to craft and build his kingdom to which he would rule- the snake by his side. 

Years passed and soon there it was, the kingdom the Serpent King had dreamt of. However, before he could see it continue to grow and prosper, he fell ill and weak. Dying on his bed surrounded by his people and the snake that had accompanied him in his goals, he prayed that the power in which he possessed would one day be reborn inside a new future king. 

The mighty island was named by the late Serpent King as the Hissing Isle. When he passed, the kingdom took not to grieving, but to work and worship. They built a shrine alongside the castle he had crafted.  Created memorials to which townsfolk and the occasional visitor may visit and pray to. Monuments of him with a giant snake wound around his body. His people continued his kingdom and a new royal family was chosen and so the generations passed; everyone waiting until the next Serpent King would be born. 

His companion snake was never seen again, rumor spreading that it took the to seas to watch over the island because it’s master was in the sky among the heavens. 

Centuries later, the royal castle was in full bustle as the queen had gone into labor unexpectedly. Ushering her to a delivery room in the medical wing of the castle, the king not far behind as he left his work and notes in his study at the news of his wife. Servants very quickly scurried about in panic for the arrival of the new royal child. 

It was an agonizing five hours later when the new baby prince was born. However, among the servants and the spiritual monk with the king and queen, none spoke. The room was silent aside from the cries of the newborn baby- the same baby who had a mark on his chest. A mark that was small, just the size of his newborn fist and detailed so delicately as a patch of scales.  

The king shed a tear as he smiled at his wife, holding her hand to soothe and congratulate her on a well done delivery of her first child.  The baby was soon cleaned and swaddled in a bundle of the softest cloth before the queen was requesting to hold her son. As he was placed in the woman’s arms, she smiled down at him as he instantly calmed.  The king sat beside the two, his hand on his queen’s leg as they both looked at the mark on their son once more. 

The Serpent King had finally chosen a new spirit to gift power to. Reincarnated into this small, healthy baby prince hundreds upon hundreds of years into the future. Serpent Prince Kim Taehyung, that is his name. 

Two years after the young prince was born, another baby was born with special powers.  Born in a brilliant blue aura and a strong, healthy body, a shrine monk had been shocked speechless at the amount of rare spiritual energy the newborn infant possessed.  It was decided among the few hours after her birth, that this baby girl would grow to be a magnificent shrine priestess and when the time would call for it, her training to harness her abilities would begin. 

Both the serpent blooded prince and the infant priestess would soon grow into bodies that would learn many things and experience many occasions and emotions.  First, however, they would need to meet.

“Y/n, come here for a spell,” your mother called for your attention as you sat at a small open chest filled with small wooden toys and bells and ribbons you had been gifted.  It had been four years since you were born and to you, your life had just started as your memory finally started allowing you to retain information and people’s faces.  

Your mother stood at the door to your room in her dress of a distasteful shade of brown that laced around her stomach to shrink her waist and strapped over her shoulders. The dress trapped the off shoulder white blouse she wore over her torso as her hair was braided along the back of her head, pinned up and out of the way. 

You looked back over your small shoulder still dressed in your pale yellow nightgown that reached your ankles with sleeves that covered your entire hand to your fingertips when you stood.  Hair unkempt and unbrushed from sleep, as you had woken up and immediately took to your toy chest to occupy your time until you were fetched by your single parent. 

Standing, you abandoned your trinkets as you rushed to your mother’s side. Grabbing her skirt in your fists and pushing your face into the fabric of her dress, giggling at the warm embrace she gave you. Her hands pushed on your shoulders and back as she leaned to greet you a good morning.  

“Good morning, my dearest little girl,” your mother cooed as you lifted your face from her skirt and smiled up at her.  You were always a shy child, but she hoped now that you were more aware of your surroundings, you would grow out of your shyness.  She gently pushed you away just enough so she could kneel on the floor in front of you, brushing your messy hair out of your face with her fingers. “We have to get you dressed.  Today is a very big day,” she told you. 

“What does that mean, mommy?” You asked, your small voice pitched and as sweet as song bells to your mother’s ears.  How she loved the sound of your voice. 

“It means, dearest, that you’re going to meet someone who will become your friend today.” The woman watched your puffy child-fat-cheeks, extend in a pout as you frowned.  “Now,” she started, softly but sternly, “do not pout like that. It would make me very happy if you would play with another child.” 

“Well,” your small voice started as your pout lessened, “if mommy wants me to, I can try.” your mother smiled as she gently kissed your forehead. You were only four, but you were very kind and gentle, and smarter than you thought.  

“That’s my girl,” she encouraged as she backed you up into your room to ready you for the day.  Placing you in a dress the color of daffodils that reached just past your knee and the long sleeves open at the shoulders, your mother messed with your head.  

You admired your dress in the standing mirror in your room.  Ruffles of soft yellow running around your skirt and the white fabric on your chest dotted with small flowers. Hair now brushed and pinned only partially back with a flower clip, your mother was soon sliding flat, black shoes over your feet. “You look beautiful, dearest,” she cooed as she kissed your cheek. 

“Mommy’s way more pretty than me!” You cheered as she stood and you took her hand, letting her lead you out of your room.  

You had lived in the castle your entire life, but only recently did you start remembering the layout of the massive royal home. You often remembered going to the shrine more often than not, feeling so peaceful and calm inside the shrine’s walls. The fountain inside with a statue of a man and a snake always seemed warm to you. 

Your mother walked slowly at your side as you clung to her hand the entire journey from your room, down the halls, past servants and guards alike until she came to stand at a grand, red doorway. You gripped her hand tighter, nerves bubbling in your small stomach. 

She offered two easy knocks that reverberated through the halls, bouncing off the walls in echoes that seemed so loud you wanted to cover your ears. 

“Majesty, it is Lily of the Shrine Courts. I have brought my daughter as you have asked,” she announced to the closed door. You thought her crazy until a voice echoed from behind the doors offering her entrance into the room beyond the red entrance. She looked down at you before smiling. “Do not worry, I will be with you the whole time,” she assured as you nodded, unaware of who was going to be inside. 

She pushed the door open with loud, aching creaks as you followed her in. your young eyes were wide as you looked around the room you had entered with your mother.  Large, wide and open with a single red carpet with gold trim lining the floor from the door to a set of 5 steps with thrones sitting atop them. There were three, dark wooden thrones in your line of sight.

One on the far left was the biggest of the three. Glorious and plush with red cushions that looked like you could jump on and sink right into the cushion. Gold trim surrounded the cushions as golden tassels hung from the arm rests of the throne. 

The middle throne was much less extravagant and smaller in size, but still as beautiful as the one before. With A fanned, three curved humps at the top of the back and red cloth that hung from the cushion like a bed-skirt over a box spring. 

The third, was just about the same size as the middle one. Resembling both the first and second, it was like a hybridized fashion of the first two- a child of the two thrones so to speak. 

In two of those three thrones, sat two adults.  In the first, glorious throne was a man dressed in black, gold and purple with a fur lined robe over his shoulders. A golden, magnificent crown sat along his head.  Next to him was a woman, a small tiara sat atop her pinned and folded hair as her dress was a soft purple and flowed so elegantly you knew without touching it that the fabric would be soft. 

You knew without a doubt it was the king and queen of Hissing Isle. The royal family that lived in Serpent Castle. You had never truly met them face to face before, and you thought your legs were going to freeze then collapse. 

Your mother soon came to a respectful halt a fair distance in front of the steps leading up to the thrones before she lowered her chest in a deep bow.  In theory you would have copied your mother, but you simply couldn’t move due to the nerves rampaging through your body. 

The queen looked at you with a smile on her face as she soon rose from her throne and picked up the floor length gown as she revealed her jeweled heels as she stepped carefully down the steps and soon was approaching you both. You jolted as you felt your mother’s hand on the back of your head. 

The queen was soon kneeling in front of you, her graceful beauty within arms reach, but all you could do is stare in wide-eyed awe and anxiousness. 

“You have a lovely daughter, Lady Lily,” the queen's smooth, rich voice spoke to your mother even though she was looking at you.  She reached out her hand as she brushed the back of her finger across her cheek and through your freshly brushed hair as you gulped. “Hello, sweetheart,” she softly called. 

“Hello,” you croaked out as the hand of your mother’s brushed along the back of your head, soothing you. 

“Do you know why you’re here this morning, child?” You nodded your head at the queen’s question “There are many things you are destined for, small lady. First, my husband and I would like to introduce you to another child just a couple years older than you. We hope you both can become friends.” You silently nod once again, still gripping onto your mother’s dress like a lifeline. 

The queen stands back up and steps away from you as she exchanges words with your mother. You look around the throne room and back behind the curtains that drape behind the set of thrones you see a faint silhouette.  You shuddered, thinking it was one of those shadow monsters you see in the corner of your vision. 

You jolt when the shadow seems to have locked eye contact with you.  You tug on your mother’s dress and reach to grab her hand as you look up towards her. She’s soon looking down at you, her precious child with eyes that can see almost too well, before she is grabbing your hand back tightly in hers. 

“What is it, dearest?” You crush your face into the fabric of her dress as you feel her leg behind it.  “Y/n,” she cooed, trying to have you behave just a bit better in front of the royal family. 

“There’s a shadow in here,” you muttered as you felt her other hand on your head again, avoiding snagging her fingernails into your clipped hair. “Behind those big chairs, there’s a shadow,” you whine. Both your mother and the queen turn to look behind the set of glorious seats and the queen only smiles at the ‘shadow’ you had seen.  

“Oh my,” the queen breathed, “why are you hiding back there again, Taehyung,” the queen called.  You looked up from the fabric of your mother’s skirt as you peered around her to see the shadow move- making you jump.  Soon, a young boy was walking out of the shadows, dressed in a black shirt and pants with a golden vest of thick embroidered shoulders and hems on his small framed torso.  His blonde hair shining like a star. Your body relaxed- it wasn’t a shadow after all. 

“I apologize for her,” your mother addressed and you instantly felt guilty. Your mother was apologizing because you jumped to conclusions because you weren’t able to tell the shadows from people yet; these shadows only just started appearing in your vision recently and they scared you. “Her eyes can see more than what others can, so she hasn’t learned spirits from humans yet.” 

“I see the rumors about her abilities are true then,” from behind the queen, the king who had been sitting in silence had finally spoken.  “I can feel her spiritual pressure even from here, and she’s of such young age. You should be proud of your daughter, Lady Lily.” The king rose from his throne as he descended the steps and called the child boy over to his and the queen’s side. 

Soon, the king and queen stood in front of you as the young boy stood between them.  You didn’t need to be told that this was their child- the prince of whom you knew of but had also never met.  The look in his dark eyes made you shiver, like he wasn’t a happy child. But, the royal family was so kind and made you feel warm- why would his eyes look so grim then? 

The king soon placed a large hand on the prince’s small shoulder. 

“Young Y/n, as of today I would be honored if you would keep my son company.” You looked up at the king with a dropped jaw.  The prince was the new friend your mother had told you about? You looked back down at the prince- his expression unchanged as if he was unhappy about your newfound company. Maybe that is why his eyes looked that way, he didn’t want a playmate. “Is that alright?” The king asked as if your four year old little heart had the gall to say no the royalty. 

“Yes, sir,” you squeaked in shyness. “It’s alright,” you confirmed with your small, bell voice your mother always praised.  It made the queen and king smile as the queen wrapped her arm around her son's shoulders, kneeling to his level and gaining his attention. 

“Now, Taehyung,” she started softly, “Y/n is going to be your friend, so you treat her kindly, alright?” You jolted and sucked in a small breath when the prince looked back to you before returning his bland gaze to his mother. 

“Yes, mother,” he muttered. The queen brushed back Taehyung’s hair and sent him off, out of the throne room. Soon, your mother was advising you to follow after him. With a small head pat from your mother and a gulp of attempted bravery, you trotted after the six-year-old prince who didn’t seem very happy to have a new friend. 

It had been four days since you were assigned Prince Taehyung’s playmate and friend.  You often spent time in the library reading while he studied, or walking behind him as he roamed through the gardens before sitting on a bench with a book, you sitting on the opposite end of the same bench. 

Every night your mother would tuck you into bed and ask how your day with the prince was and you would always tell her the same thing. You were nothing but a duckling following around the royal prince as he never spoke to you even if you spoke to him. You feared he disliked you and you often sought your mother’s comfort as you would nearly cry at the thought of your first real friend hating you. 

Every morning you’d wake up and pick out the prettiest dress and most eye-catching hair pins and ribbons to try and attract the prince’s attention. Even when you tried wearing shoes that clack with each step, he never even spared you a glance. 

It was midday of the fifth day of being Taehyung’s new friend when you decided to try and be more aggressive with your mission you had dubbed: ‘make Prince Taehyung my friend’.  You both sat in the library as he was scribbling in a book with another book open next to him.  You had recognized the book he was studying today- a book of hymns from the past that are typically sung about or for the Serpent King’s spirit and the Sea Snake.  You were currently being taught those same hymns by the shrine maidens and monks during the time you weren’t trailing Taehyung. 

“Prince Taehyung,” you called softly, knowing he wouldn’t answer you. You swallowed your nervous breath as you pushed more words out instead of giving up instantly like the days prior. “Are you very interested in the Sea Snake and Serpent King hymns? If so, I can sing them for you,” you offered. You saw his fountain pen halt in his hand for just a moment before he resumed writing. 

You almost smiled, that was proof he was listening to you- just ignoring you. 

“You know,” you continued, stepped just ever so closer to the chair he sat in as his feet dangled, still far too short to reach the floor. “I’m being taught a lot of those from the shrine maidens.  They said I need to know them because I’m going to become a shrine maiden one day too. They told me I’m going to be a priestess and that the hymns would be very important to know when I’m all grown up.” 

He didn’t pay you any mind just as you were used to.  You wracked your young mind to think as to why he was so uninterested in you. You’ve always wanted a friend around your age, and he was only two years older than you.  He wasn’t so superior to you as a six-year-old that you had to be ignored.  Maybe he was just a snobby prince? But, that didn't seem to fit him. The aura he gave off felt sad and calm to you- like he wanted something he just wasn’t getting, but staying to himself about it.  

Then, you had a thought. 

Prince Taehyung is the Serpent King’s descendant- his reincarnation as you were told- who was blessed with the ancient king’s blood.  He would one day rule the kingdom and lead the Hissing Isle into a golden age- even more peaceful and prosperous than the Serpent Kingdom is right now. 

“Prince Taehyung,” you addressed him again. You had gotten beside him and gently grabbed the cloth of his shirt around his elbow between your fingers. “Are you sad about being born like the Serpent King?” For the first time the child prince stopped his scribbling and the air around you changed.  

It became tense and you felt like you were suffocating. Did you cross a line? Were you supposed to just keep your mouth shut and follow him like a little duckling for the rest of your childhood until he finally snapped and told you to leave him alone? You shivered. Would he snap now? Would he yell and tell you to be gone because you were prying into business that isn’t yours? 

“Am I sad about being born this way?” The first sentence ever spoken to you from the prince’s mouth and it felt sharp as it hit your heart. “Am I sad about being told who I am and who I’m supposed to be? Am I sad about being so different that people can’t even use my name? Am I sad that I’m just ‘Serpent Prince Taehyung’?” He finally turned to look at you, his dark eyes lined with frustrated tears. “Wouldn’t you be sad about that?” He softly choked.  

“Prince,” you called in a small breath, unable to recognize that the small prince had been carrying such a burden on his shoulders.  Was he really outcast like he claims? True, when you followed him around, all people did was bow their head and offer praises of the blood of the serpent king. 

“How are you okay with the shrine telling you who you’re destined to become?” He asked, turning away from the book full of hymns and swiveling to look at you standing next to him. 

“Because my mom said I’d grow up to be a great priestess one day,” you spoke in a heavily whispered answer.  “And my mom would never lie to me, so I believe her.” 

“She’s planning your life for you. Doesn’t that make you mad? Shouldn’t you have the freedom to choose what you want?” This was the most the prince had ever spoken in your presence. 

“I’m not mad,” you quickly deny. “I really like learning all the hymns and the dances the shrine is teaching me. I get to dance with bells and ribbons and sing songs that will help people when I grow up. I get scared of shadows and odd creatures I see, but the more I learn from the monks, the more I can face those scary things. I have so much fun with the shrine people, so I could never be mad about growing up like they say I will.” You let go of the prince's sleeves only to grab his hand hesitantly. 

His hand is relaxed in yours, not moving to pull away or to return the gesture.  You think you finally understand why the prince’s eyes are so sad.  He’s scared of his future and feels trapped.  You step closer to his chair, making him lean back as you got into his personal bubble that had never been popped before. 

“If you’re unhappy, the king and queen would surely listen to you!” You announced with a brow furrowed in determination.  “If you told you mom and dad, I’m sure they’d listen and accept whatever you said! My mom always tells me to tell her anything and as long as I’m honest, she’ll listen without anger. I’m sure your mom and dad think the same thing, Taehyung.” 

His eyes were wide as you quickly spoke- throwing out his title in the spur of the moment. Advising him to go talk to his parents about his woes? Addressing him so boldly in an attempt to cheer him up after all he’s been doing for as long as he could remember is brood in the idea of his set in stone future?  Could he really tell his parents that he was scared of letting them down?  He was just a child, a small little six-year-old who was scared of disappointing his parents.  

“I can’t tell them,” he whispered to himself more than you, trying to get the idea of speaking his mind out of his head.  He couldn’t be selfish, not when so many people expect so much from him. 

“Then, you can tell me and I’ll tell them for you!” You announced again. “You’re my friend, Taehyung, and if you can’t tell them, then I’ll do it for you.” The prince dropped his jaw as he looked into the total seriousness of your eyes.  You meant it; every word you’ve said you have meant.  You looked down at your hand when you felt the boy grip it back, holding your hand tightly. 

“You don’t think they’d be mad at me?” His true colors of youth finally broke through. You smiled brightly at him as you shook your head. “Then, I guess I can try… later, at dinner maybe.” you saw a small hue paint his cheeks as you giggled at the sudden cute turn his demeanor took.  “You said you knew some of these?” He asked, referring back to his book of hymns.  You nodded as he got up, let go of your hand and fetched a new chair for you, setting it beside him as he climbed back into his. “Then, could you sing one?” 

Your child-like voice of bells sang any hymn he could find you knew and he could feel the serpent blood in him react to it, reaching out to the songs it found so familiar. 

Two years passed, and Taehyung had finally started becoming a prince he could be proud of. He had apologized to you and your mother for being so rude for the first week of your friendship, but since then, you and he were inseparable.  He would often come to the shrine to see you practice your dances and listen to your songs. 

The prince was smiling more and enjoying his studies.  He often talked with his parents when he had troubles now, and he had accepted his role as the future king. He had thought he needed to be perfect in the past, and now he knew that as long as he did his best and never lied, it would all be alright.  Failure kept him humble, but it would never hold him back like it once did before. 

On your sixth birthday, your mother gifted you with your first shrine maiden robe. Of red and gold, it hung loosely around your shoulders and tied around your waist with a golden sash. A set of golden threads looped into small snakes on each lapel of your robe connected with a red thread across your chest. 

When you were dressed in it, you were eager to show Taehyung, but first wanted to learn a dance to properly show the robe off. It was your first ever maiden robe and you had been training in the shrine for as long as you could remember now.  

Your mother who was growing older every year laughed as you would occasionally stumble over the long robe’s fabric as you attempted to learn the way it moved with you. That evening, Taehyung had come to the shrine to see you, having not heard a word from you all day. 

When he arrived however, you were fast asleep on the marble floor, resting against the side of the fountain placed inside the shrine of the purest sea water. A pyramid of bells rolled out of your palm as you sat peacefully asleep in your new robe.  

“Good evening, Young Prince,” your mother greeted, making Taehyung jolt. “I’m sorry if you’ve come to see Y/n. My daughter practiced too hard it seems and fell asleep the moment she sat to rest.” Taehyung looked and watched you sleep against the fountain. 

Over the course of your training and aging, he had felt your spiritual power grow alongside the power he felt in himself. He still remembers the day you finally broke him of his shell when you told him how you would train to be the proud priestess your mother said you’d be one day.  

He smiled as he walked to you, lifting your lulled head up and placing it on his shoulder as he sat next to you on the shrine floor. He looked up at your mother who was stuck between telling the prince to not sit on the floor and to just wake you up. 

“Do you mind if I sit with her for a while?” He asked as she just smiled. 

“Stay as long as you’d like,” she told him before retreating back to the castle. She later returned with the queen by her side when dinner came around and the two just stifled laughs at the young prince’s head resting on yours, you both fast asleep.  

A year passed and Taehyung had finally grown his serpent scales and eyes that would stick with him the rest of his life.  Golden scales grew under his eyes as the dark shade of them brightened to a gold you found hypnotizing.  He had initially hid his face from the palace, unable to show his scales.  It took a whole afternoon of you sitting in his room with him to convince him that it was okay and that his new scales didn’t make him scary. 

Ever since his scales and eyes came in, he had been able to hear you sing from wherever you were.  You could be in the depths of the shrine and he could be on the opposite side of the castle and he could hear your songs and feel your messages.  He could tell when you were sad or happy or sick or in pain with each song he heard.  Able to convey your emotions through your songs, he wondered why it was he couldn’t hear any other people.  

When The monks chanted their mantras or the other maidens and priestess’ sung, he couldn’t hear them.  Only your voice was heard in his ears. 

He had often spoken to his father, the king, about it. The king was unsure as to the reason as well, but passed it off as a result of your spiritual power and your control over it. However, it wasn’t until one afternoon that Taehyung realized that he could not only hear your songs from anywhere, but he could find out where you were located if your situation grew dangerous or dire.  

You were in the palace gardens studying flowers and leaves as part of your training on what plants or herbs to dry and place as offerings to the Serpent King’s spirit. Placing herbs and flower petals inside of a clay bowl, you had heard someone approach you. Turning around, you saw two men dressed in foreign clothes you hadn’t seen before. 

“Hello,” you greeted weakly as you stood on shaking feet.  Your clay bowl in hand as they just look at each other.  “I’ve never seen you before in the castle, what are you doing here?” You had gotten braver each year and as a proud standing nine-year-old, you were determined to figure out if these were the king’s visitors or uninvited guests.  

“Little girl,” one of them spoke as it made your skin prick. “You are a priestess?” 

“Uh, yes,” you squeaked.  The moment one of them moved to reach behind into a pouch they kept on their hip, you panicked.  Throwing the bowl of herbs, you closed your fist, extended your two first fingers and chanted a small protective spell. The herbs that flew towards the intruders caught fire and gave you just enough time to turn and run into the maze of hedges to hide. 

Taking so many turns in the maze you had no idea the layout of, you were soon tucking yourself away in a corner, trying to hide in the shrubs as much as possible. With each rustle of the plants and wind you grew more and more tense.  

You suddenly remembered a certain song you were taught recently that was instructed by the king for you to learn.  It was a song of calling when in danger.  If ever there was a time to test it, now was that time. So, under your breath you whispered weakly the lines of hymns you were taught. 

Taehyung was in the study with his father when the air shifted outside.  Looking out the window, he stared out into the open gardens of trees, flowers and bushes.  Even further, he could see the open sea of his island kingdom.  He wondered why the air felt heavy so suddenly.  He felt suffocated and stuffy as he pulled at the collar of his turtleneck shirt. 

The king noticed his son’s discomfort. “What is it?” 

“It just got really stuffy in here,” the prince replied, “that’s all.” Yet as he returned to his lessons, the uneasiness in his chest didn’t stop. For minutes it lasted until your name flashed into his head like a siren as his skin pricked before he was hearing you sing again.  

Taehyung jumped from his chair, pushing it back with enough force to kick it back onto the floor, startling the king close to him.  Taehyung’s golden snake-like eyes were wide as they looked out the window beyond the palace walls. 

The king slowly stood, unable to determine his son’s sudden burst of haste. “Taehyung,” he tried, but the prince’s attention wasn’t drawn. 

“Y/n,” he whispered. He walked around the fallen chair and to the window, placing his palms on the glass panes as he looked down into the gardens.  Flashes of the shrub maze playing in his subconscious as he listened to your shaky, fearful song play in his mind. He saw the faces of two strangers, a bowl of clay, fire and then your back retreating into the maze before he started to panic.  “Father,” he called in haste as he turned to the king behind him. “There are intruders in the garden and they’re after Y/n.” 

The king was quick to act.  Immediately dispatching guards to the gardens to catch the uninvited guests before they caught you.  Taehyung couldn’t settle down, even with his father trying to convince him it would be okay and that help was coming to you.  It didn’t help calm his blood that screamed to find you first.  

His gaze stuck outside, your voice still echoing in his head, your song replaying over and over again as your fear pounded in the center of his chest.  He didn’t even register himself ripping his arms out of his father’s grasp as he ran out of the castle and into the gardens to find you himself, knowing exactly where you were. 

It was two hours later when the culprits of your attempted abduction were caught and imprisoned, followed by a party of castle guards finally locating your hiding spot.  Only, they were shocked to see that Taehyung had been crouched in front of you, holding your head on his chest as you cried before eventually falling asleep. 

It was hard to explain to his parents and your mother how he could hear your songs, and feel your emotions.  It was even harder to explain how he was able to know exactly where you were and know what had happened as if he had been there himself.  It was that very evening that the king had made a decision that would affect you both in the coming years. 

“Y/n,” Taehyung had called as you were knelt in the shrine, hands clasped together before you lowered your arms and looked over your shoulder to your prince.  You were ten-years-old now while Taehyung was nearly in his teenage years.  You both were nearly the same height as you stood to come to his call.  

You nearly felt your cheeks blush in the presence of your beloved prince.  Ever since you were nine and nearly kidnapped from the castle gardens, Taehyung had become increasingly more protective over you.  This in turn created a delusional crush you held for the royal heir.  You had to be careful of your songs so that he wouldn’t catch on to your feelings each morning and evening when you sang songs of greeting and farewell to the sun and sea. 

“Yes?” You waited as you came to stand in front of him. “Do you need something from me Taehyung? I thought you had archery this morning?” You tilted your head in curiosity as he quickly took your hand in his, something he started a year ago so that he could always feel you behind him. “Taehyung?” 

“Father and mother have called us to the audience chamber.” Your mouth opened in question as your mother came up behind you.  Taehyung was quick to greet her.  “Good morning, Lady Lily.” 

“A fine morning to you, young Prince.” Your mother soon placed her hand on your back, silently ushering you on. “You can finish your morning devotions after your audience with the king and queen. It is alright,” she smiled.  She seemed to know something you didn’t, like she knew what the call of presence was for.  Though, you couldn’t ask because of Taehyung quickly pulling you out of the shrine with him. 

“Your morning hymn was lovely,” he told you as he entered the castle’s second floor, taking your hands and helping you up the staircase so you wouldn’t trip on your long gown.  

“Do you think so?” You asked, wavering on how you sang this morning. “I had thought my sound wasn’t as clear as before.” 

“You improve everyday. Perhaps if you feel it needs improvement, sip water from the shrine’s fountain. That will certainly cleanse your throat and replenish any diminished power,” he advised.  Typically, one would not be allowed to access the sea water of the shrine’s fountain, however you were the exception to that rule.  

You never knew why, but the day Taehyung offered you a small sip of the fountain’s sea water to ease your aching throat, you were permitted exclusive access to the sea’s blessed water.  As, if you weren’t granted permission, that small sip of pure ocean water would have spread like poison and certainly taken your life. 

As Taehyung led you to the audience chamber, you grew nervous.  Just what could the monarchs of your Isle be calling you about? Were you not doing a good enough job as a training maiden? Were you lacking somehow? Or perhaps you were going to be told to stop hanging around Taehyung, the future king, as often because of his coming of age. The idea of being torn from Taehyung made your heart ache.  

“Do not be nervous,” he told you, squeezing your hand.  You swallowed the lump in your throat, only nodding before he knocked on the chamber door, announced himself and you, before walking inside with you in tow. 

The queen and her husband sat in the two tallest, iron chairs behind the long, table in the large room. They watched you both enter hand in hand, just as they had seen you do before.  As the heavy door shut behind your back, Taehyung led you to a chair across from his parents. Sitting you down first, he then takes his own seat beside you. His choice of opting to sit beside you instead of his parents confused you for a moment until he took your hand in his again beneath the iron table top.

“I apologize for interrupting your morning session, Y/n,” the queen softly called. Though aged from the first time you met her, she was still carrying herself with the same grace and beauty you had remembered all those years ago.

“It’s alright, Majesty. My mother is finishing up the offering with the monks and I can return to the shrine to finish my devotion before midday.” Your voice was rigid from you trying to keep your nervousness undetected.  You felt Taehyung’s hand tighten in your grip as he ran his thumb over your knuckles. You had to strain to hear the royal family’s words over the sound of your heart in your ears.

“We won’t keep you long,” the king announced.  He looked at you and then to his son before he closed his eyes.  His hands came up to rest in front of his mouth, fingers interlaced as his elbows rested on the iron table.  “Would you say you enjoy my son’s company, Y/n?” The king’s directness made you jolt. With the smallest pink tinted cheeks, you glanced at Taehyung, seeing him only looking at his father with inquisitive eyes.  

“I would. I greatly enjoy the Prince’s company.” You answered with a smile that spread unconsciously to the set of royal parents in front of you when you directed your gaze back to the pair.  

“As you know,” the queen started in place of her husband, “Taehyung is the heir to the Serpent King; however, as you may have noticed, our son has a special connection with you particularly.” You lifted your eyebrow at this.  Since when had the prince and you had a special connection?  In truth, Taehyung never told you that he could feel what you feel when you sing and can pinpoint your location as your voice carries to the sky like a beacon.  His grip in your hand falters.  

“Mother,” he warned. He didn’t want you to know in fear that you would find it invasive. What if you found out and you hated it and locked up your voice in retaliation?  He thought his heart would shrivel up and die if you stopped singing.  

“Our son is able to hear your songs from any location on the island, we believe that it’s due to not only your bond you’ve built over the years, but also your spiritual power.” You remained silent as you took in the information.  You had known Taehyung could hear you, but from such a wide scope? That shocked you.  “Taehyung and you share a special bond, that much we are certain, so my husband and I spoke with Lady Lily.”

Your back straightened as the mention of your mother. “You spoke with my mother? About what, might I ask?”

“It is our intent to have you both become engaged to marry.”

You felt your heart stop at the king’s declaration.  Engaged to marry? You and Taehyung?  Your heart began to speed up, doing somersaults in your chest as your grip on the prince’s hand slacked.  You turned to look at the preteen prince.

“Me, marry the-,” you cut yourself off, unable to speak the words.  Your young cheeks flushed hot when Taehyung turned to look at you, pulling your hand tighter against his under the table. Making up for the space you created when you pulled away.  His golden eyes burned into yours as he then turned back to his father.  

“I’m willing to go through with it,” the young prince announced, shocking you.  “That is,” he turned his sights back to you, a soft smile on his face replacing his previous look, “if Y/n agrees as well.” The queen had to hide a smile behind the back of her hand as your face wouldn’t cool down.  You looked down to the hand he held out of his parents’ sight before taking a breath.  

It wouldn’t be selfish to want this- you look back up at him with hopeful eyes- right? Smiling back after a heartbeat or two, you turned to his parents and lowered your head.

“I’m honored by the royal families decision.  If you’ll accept me, I agree to the arrangement as well.” A small talk about formalities and official announcements of the engagement later and you and Taehyung were dismissed back to your daily routine.  However, everything felt shifted now.  

As Taehyung led you back to the shrine, you stayed absolutely silent- something the prince noticed.  You were always talking to him about something, but now you were speechless and it made him nervous.  He wasn’t even holding your hand anymore, because the moment you both stood to leave the audience chamber, you had let him go. 

“I’ll properly thank your mother when I see her next,” he told you suddenly in the empty hall he walked with you down.  “Since I’m your fiance now, it’d be rude if I didn’t thank her for her permission to marry you.”

“Ah, right,” you made a small noise before acknowledging him.  He stopped in the hall and sighed, turning to you.  

“So, it is the engagement that’s making you so quiet.”  You shrunk, not wanting to be a problem.  “It’s okay. If you don’t want to agree to it, then-”

“No!” You screech, immediately covering your mouth.  You cleared your throat, looking around to see if anyone had seen your outburst and gathered your thoughts. Your heart wouldn’t stop beating and your stomach felt fuzzy from the speed of it all.  “It’s just happening so fast,” you breathed, “that’s all. Really, I don’t mind.”

“Are you positive?”

“Yes, I am.” It was an odd sensation when Taehyung pulled you into his chest to hug you.  He had held you before.  When you were lost in the maze, when you were sleepy during your lessons he attended with you out of curiosity, when you both hid from castle guards who were trying to coerce you both back inside.  This time was different though.

“Don’t worry. Nothing’s going to change,” he assured you.  As you lifted your arms to hug him back, you knew why it was so different and why any embrace from him would be different from now on.  

Because every time from this point on, forever, would be an embrace shared between betroths.  

You took a deep breath of the ocean air as the ship you were aboard grew closer to the docks of your beloved Isle.  You were returning home after a trip to the mainland to familiarize further with their culture and step closer to establishing a lasting treaty.  You weren’t exactly pleased forming relations with the world outside of your island home, but in the end it had to be done.  

On a positive note, you were returning with all sorts of new herbs and dried meat, roots and fruits that Hissing Isle didn’t have.  They would surely work well as offerings and if not, a fine snack for the castle. 

“Lady Y/n!” Someone called as you turned to look for the call.  A young man dressed in stained white and brown clothes and a bandanna around his waist had been the one calling.  “The ship will dock in just a little while.  Please prepare your things for departure. I’m sure the Prince is eagerly waiting for your return.”  The man offered you a polite, if not playful, wink before he was scampering off.  

A lot has happened since you had gotten engaged to the Serpent Prince twelve years ago.  Your twenty-second birthday had just passed as you stood on the side of the ship, your bag of belongings and mainland offers on your back. 

When you were twenty, you had surpassed your trainers and taken over the shrine as the Central Priestess.  Your abilities to harness and use your spiritual powers in both offensive and defensive strategies still awed some. In fact, you planned to use your power to enforce a barrier around the island as soon as you could. Bringing back a sacred dokkosho from the mainland, you planned to use it- combined with your powers- to protect the island from malicious intruders. 

However, years have not always been so kind to you.  Among those years, you still wish your young mother was around to see you flourish into the priestess she had known you to be.  She had fallen ill when you were eighteen and she did not last the year.  You still remember how your heart broke as Taehyung shushed and held you for days upon days, as you could do nothing but cry and mourn. You could not even sing her farewell through your tears.

As the sea breeze blew through your hair and whipped at the long, loose sleeves of your dress, you smiled as the sight of your home growing closer.  Your dress was off your shoulder, loose around your chest and tied with a brown sash around your waist as the skirt fell to your ankles.  It was a simple dress and not at all what you would typically wear when fulfilling your role as isle priestess, but it was yours.  

When the ship docked and your feet finally hit land again, you let out a breath of air.  It had only been a month, but you felt like you had been away for far too long now.  While you were gone, you had left the shrine in the hands of a monk who had come from the mainland years back.  His skills were exceptional, but his playful attitude always left you a bit nervous.  

“Lady Y/n!” The same man from before had called as you had stepped off port. You turned and quickly caught something he had tossed towards you.  Looking, it was a ripe apple. “Come travel with us again soon,” he offered as you smiled at him. 

“I’ll look forward to the next time then,” you bowed your head as you headed off. Heading through town, you were met with small smiles and children running to hold your hand and welcome you back home.  In your small kingdom, you were well known as the main priestess and many would come to you for advice.  Your position as Taehyung’s fiance added to the warmth of the island-folk.  

However, not all were as kind as most. 

A young girl hung off your arm as you humored her with your attention as a drunken man cut off your path. Your destination towards the castle temporarily halted.  Typically, you would brush past him, however the young girl at your side only shrunk away at the sight of his disheveled appearance.  

You knew this man, of course.  He often gave you a rough time, unable to swallow his bit-swollen pride and accept orders from a woman who technically wasn’t of royal blood. Spending all his time and money in taverns, you were certain if you wounded him, booze would pour out of his body instead of blood.  

“May I help you?” You sneered, tilting your chin and looking at him in a collected, calm warning.  

“It’s a shame the mainland princes’ didn’t want to keep you over there,” he slurred.  “Do us a lotta good if you stayed put on the other side of the sea.”  You remained calm as you took a breath.  You looked down to the young girl who clung to you.  This man was not only well known to you, but to the rest of the castle town.  He wasn’t exactly too well liked because of his attitude.  

When he saw the little girl staring at his stubble, unshaven face, he sneered.  “What are you looking at brat? Huh?!” The verbal attack to the youth was cut short when something was thrown at the drunkard’s head.  Stumbling back in an over-dramatic fit of drunken balance, he looked at the ground.  There lay a single, red apple.  

“Even among a basket of perfect fruit, there always has to be one bad apple it seems.”  Your arm was lifted, the only needed evidence the drunkard needed to know you had thrown the fruit at him.  “I suggest you direct your disgust elsewhere and not towards the Isle’s youth.  They will determine in the future to help or neglect you. You’d be wise to not mistreat them.” 

“Why you stuck up-” the man had stomped towards you, harshly pushing you back as he grabbed the front of your dress into his fist.  The child on your side was knocked away as she started to cry for the man to let you go as he just growled into your face.  His breath was horrid, teeth yellow and skin tinged sickly.  

“If you keep drinking, you’ll last no longer than the season,” you calmly told him even in the state you were being held in.  

“My lady!” the little girl cried, as a crowd started to gather in a murmur. You knew better than to fight back, it was against your views to harm your people- even if they act so grotesque towards you.  You would only tell yourself to grin and bear it.  

There was a sudden hush over the crowd before they could even begin to act on freeing you from the no-good drunkard, and it was without surprise as to why.  The man was grabbed by the back of his shirt collar as it was yanked back, the shirt riding up to his neck and thrusting him into cut-off, breathless panic.  

His grip on your dress released immediately as he was yanked backward until he fell over his feet onto his back on the stone roads. His eyes were squeezed shut and were only opened when the one who had pulled him back and off you squats to come closer to his face.  The man froze at the pair of golden eyes glaring down at him with brilliant matching scales under them. 

“I do believe I’ve told you before that the next time you harass my priestess, I wouldn’t let it slide,” Taehyung sneered as the little girl had rushed back to your side, hugging you around the waist as you placed your hand on her shoulders.  “Stay on the ground,” he demanded as the drunkard only nodded weakly as the prince stood back up and looked at you.  Your dress was stretched and messed up around your chest now.  

Yet, you smiled warmly to him nonetheless.  

“Welcome home, Y/n,” he greeted as he came to your side.  He smiled down to the child in front of you, petting her head. “How about I take her home from here?” He told the little girl as she ran off back to her home, leaving the crowd to disperse and the drunkard to be picked up off the road and taken back to the castle by a set of guards that were stationed in town.  “I’m sorry you had to deal with him first thing after returning.” 

“It’s nothing I couldn’t have handled,” you reassured, even if you had no intention of actually instigating a fight.  “What brought you into town? Running errands?” He smiled as he shook his head.  

“No. I felt your spiritual pressure when you landed. I simply couldn’t wait to see you after such a long time,” he told you.  Your heart squeezed in your chest as he then began to lead you back to the castle.  You asked about the shrine and how the offering and sessions were progressing.  Taehyung was curious as to what the mainland was like and you offered to show him the goodies you brought back with you once you reached the castle.  

All the while your heart pounded in your ears.  

The crush you had on your prince only kept expanding in size with each passing day since you were announced engaged.  You were sure if that had never happened, you would have grown out of it, however your love for him was deeper than the sea surrounded the island.  You were absolutely sure, however, that Taehyung would never truly love you back.  

He had always shown that you were his closest and deepest friend he had.  Loving you as his first and best friend and close companion that helped him grow.  However, you doubted he would ever be in love with you like you are with him, and the knowledge of your betrothal made such a bittersweet taste on your tongue.  

You had often attempted to talk to him about the arrangement of your marriage.  You wanted to give him the option now that he was a grown man and was able to understand what marrying you would mean.  You wanted to give him the option to choose if he wanted you to become his wife for the rest of his life or not.  And if he chose not to wed you, then you’d accept that, no matter how much it would break you.  

You never had the strength to bring it up though. Too scared of letting him go, when he truly wasn’t fully yours.  Unable to let go of the fantasy of marrying him, unable to let go of your selfishness.  

You let out a sigh as Taehyung had entered the castle with you.  He looked at you with furrowed brows and gold eyes.  

“That is the fifth sigh since town.  Are you unwell?” 

“What?” you were unaware of your unconscious sighs until he had said something.  “I’m fine. Just tired from the trip is all.  I think I just need to rest a bit before I return to my shrine duties.” 

“I’ll make sure to instruct Jungkook to keep watch over the shrine’s progression until tomorrow. Take a break until then. You’ve just returned from a long journey that I’m sure required a lot of strength.  Do not push yourself.” 

You nodded.  Jungkook was the monk in-charge of the shrine when you are absent or unable to manage it for a number of reasons.  He often watches it once a month when your body is in such pain that moving from your bed is a battle in itself.  

He was a stubborn monk, but he was well versed in his craft you had to admit.  He was different from the other monks you’ve grown up with.  For instance, he refused to cut his hair like the others who had clean heads without hair at all.  His long, brown locks curled around his ears and over his forehead, occasionally being tied back with a hair string for rituals. 

“Yes,” you agreed, “that would be nice.” 

You two had walked further into the castle when someone had rounded a further corner ahead and caught sight of you.  Speak of the devil. 

“Hey! Y/n!” Jungkook waved in his robes of black and purple, rushing towards you.  He was a friendly monk, child-like and free spirited and never addressed you properly by title.  You almost admire that about him.  He came to a stop in front of you and Taehyung as the prince suddenly drew quiet without you noticing. “Welcome back home,” he grinned down at you, standing a head taller.  

“Yes, it’s good to be back.” You smiled in greeting as you both conversed.  Taehyung watched you both talk so openly and comfortably. You often spoke without formality when you were with Jungkook. With himself though- even if you had known him since he was six- you still held a sense of formality.  He didn’t realize how much he missed your relaxed speech when you were young until he was watching you talk so comfortably with the long-haired monk. 

“I hope you won’t mind keeping charge of the shrine until tomorrow. I have to wait a bit longer for my powers to return to normal. The mainland pressure is far different than the island, so adjustment takes time.” 

“Leave it to me, it’s not so hard.” He shrugged smugly.  You rolled your eyes as Jungkook soon looked passed you to Taehyung who had been standing in silence.  He looked back down to you.  “The lovely couple off somewhere?” His chide was met with you snatching the staff he had at his side from his grasp and whacking him with it.  “Ow! What’s with the sudden aggression?” He whine sorely as he rubbed his back.  You gently handed the staff back to him as if you had done no wrong. 

“That’s your punishment for improper speech to the woman who is technically your superior,” you told him, but you both knew the real reason you whacked him.  Jungkook was the sole person you’ve confided in about your feelings for the serpent prince.  “Return to your shrine duties, I’ll be stopping by with new offerings later,” you told him as you started away.  

“Yes, yes. As you wish, My Lady,” he submitted as he watched you leave, Taehyung silently trailing behind you.  

It was silent again as Taehyung and you continued on your way to the throne room to greet the royal family and tell them of your return. They must already know you had come back since Taehyung had shown up so quickly as you landed, but it was still a requirement of the shrine’s center priestess to announce her departure and arrival.  

“You and that monk seem to get along well,” Taehyung spoke, bitterly refusing to use Jungkook's name. 

“Yes, well, he is two years younger than me.  It’s easy to speak naturally to him when he’s only just turned twenty.” 

The conversation was short lived as Taehyung didn’t speak after that and you didn’t either.  The silence was almost comfortable and before long, you were entering the throne room with Taehyung just as you had a million other times before now. 

As you grew closer, the queen sat higher in her chair. Her hair had faded to a shade of silver from age as the king’s black hair had begun to follow. “Ah, young Lady Y/n, I’m glad you’ve made it back safely. Did you enjoy your visit to the mainland?” 

“Not as much as I enjoy the feeling of being home, Majesty.” 

“Of course,” she mused.  “I’m glad you have returned. My husband and I would like to speak to you and Taehyung if you have a moment.” You looked at the man beside you as he looked at his parents with an indifferent gaze like something was weighing on his mind.  

“The wedding is next week?!” Jungkook screeched.  You had just returned to the shrine from the castle in which the royal family had decided that you and Taehyung would be married by next week's end.  “It’s so sudden,” the monk stated in a much milder tone.  

“Not really,” you told him as you removed the wrapped herbs and roots from your bag. “I’ve been engaged to him since I was young. It was bound to happen one day.” You kept replaying the conversation from earlier in your mind.  Just as it had been in the past, the moment his parents decided it, he just nodded and went along with their plans.  

The same feeling in your gut wrenched and twisted like a dying tree root. Was he just going along with his parent’s decision because he admired them so much? Was he just doing this for the sake of his people because you were the Isle’s priestess? Or, was he doing this because it was something decided so long ago and he felt like he had no way out now? 

As you set your items along the marble alter inside the shrine Jungkook watched you with soft, dewy eyes.  He knew how much your heart loved the prince and how much you kept breaking your own heart over and over again.  You never let yourself have the satisfaction of being with Taehyung all because you wouldn’t let yourself believe Taehyung would ever love you.  

“Y/n,” he gently called. “Why don’t you just talk to him? I’m sure if you told him how you felt, then-” 

“There would be no point in that,” you interrupted.  “If I told him how I felt, and he didn’t return those feelings, then the whole relationship we’ve built up our entire lives would be ruined. At least if we get married as childhood friends, I can keep a piece of my happiness when I wear a ring around my finger.” 

“But, if you just-” 

“Jungkook,” you cut him off again.  “Please, just drop it.  I’ve made up my mind, you can’t change it.”  The monk yielded as he just sighed and moved to stand beside you.  Looping his arm over your shoulders, he pulled you in for a side hug. 

“Just don’t get hurt,” he whispered. 

Three days later, a ball would be held in an advanced celebration for the prince’s wedding.  The event is grand, even invitations sent to the mainland were met with positive notes and promises to attend.  You grew more and more anxious as the ball grew closer, specifically because you were going to be in charge of the first song of the evening.  

A part of you thought it unfair.  You were in charge of singing the first song for the guests in attendance. Meaning you wouldn’t be able to participate in the first dance and even more sour tasting is that Taehyung had the option to dance with whomever he chose. It was your engagement ball too, but there was no way around it- since it was the priestess’s duty to sing after all.  

Jungkook offered to take your position and perform a hymn in your stead, but you simply told him not to worry about it. He wouldn’t be attending the ball- even if he was invited- simply because he had to watch the shrine while you would be preoccupied for the day.

Everyday prior to the ball you were cooped up in vocal training and hymn precision so as to not ruin the first dance.  The morning of the ball, you only practiced once and then saved your voice for the evening of the event.  

The castle was bustling with servants and guards running to and fro, along with the steady flow of mainland guests arriving in the town’s port.  You sat somewhere in the twists and turns of the hedge maze as you tried to steady your heart.  The wind blew softly, like a blanket of comfort before you were opening your eyes to see the prince in front of you.  

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said calmly in the wind.  

“Everything’s so busy, I guess I just wanted to escape the chaos for as long as possible,” you shrugged as he came closer to you.  You slid down the bench you sat on as he moved to sit beside you.  It was silent for a time before he spoke up again. 

“Do you remember the first time you came into this maze?” You looked at him.  “You were confronted by criminals who had sneaked into the castle grounds with the intent to kidnap you. You ran into this maze, crouched into a ball and sang. I still remember that day so vividly.”  

You looked away from him as you turned your sights to your lap.  Dressed in your common gown, your hands were folded on your legs.  

“Yes, I remember.  You came to save me that day.  I remember I was so scared, then you came running around the corner and I just started crying.” You laughed bitterly at the memory.  “Next thing I knew, I was waking up the next morning in my bed like always.” You paused, contemplating on if you should speak more or let the silence envelope you both.  “I guess you were always saving me, even all the way back then.” 

Taehyung watched you as you kept an eye on your lap, fiddling with your hands in the warm breeze of spring.  Your hair dancing in small wisps, almost hypnotizing him.  

“Mother told me you’re performing the song for the first dance this evening,” he opened in a new conversation.  “Which hymn have you chosen?” He asked.  

“You don’t already know?” You looked at him.  His gold scales reflecting off the sunlight.  “I thought you always listened to my songs,” you teased with a lopsided smile.  He returned the gesture back to you. 

“I’ve been trying not to listen to your songs the past few days, as to not ruin the surprise.” 

“Then, I guess you have no reason to know what I’ll be singing.” You both sat comfortably for a while and you even started thinking about actually unloading your heart to him.  Jungkook’s constant push to tell Taehyung how you felt nagging at your mind as you sat with him so calmly in the garden.  Now would be the perfect time, but it seemed you spent too much time thinking it over, you overran your chance. 

“Lady Y/n!” You sighed as you heard someone call for you from afar. Taehyung straightened his back, narrowing his eyes to the distant voice who had disturbed the peaceful atmosphere.  He looked to you when you suddenly stood and called back to them. 

“I’m here!” You shouted as you stood and looked down to Taehyung.  You smiled at him, but his eyes widened when he saw a small touch of sadness on your lips.  “I look forward to seeing who you’ll choose to partner with during the first dance tonight.” 

“Wait-” he reached out to you as he had begun to stand from the bench but you had already moved away from him. Disappearing behind the shrubs and out of his sight before he heard you conversing with a servant who was probably going to rush you off into preparations for the ball. He listened to your voice grow distant as he looked at the open palm of his, not able to remember the last time he held your hand. In that moment, the spring air felt colder to him in the sunlit maze.  

You’ve never dreaded putting on a formal gown more than now, knowing that you’d be wearing it to your engagement ball.  The dress itself was beautiful.  White lace surrounded the breast and around your waist to wrap around your entire torso before the lace ended at your hips to let the red skirt fall to the floor where more white lace hemmed the end of the skirt.  Your arms were covered in open fingered gloves that extended just past the elbow as the dress had to straps and rested on your chest. 

Your hair was partially pulled back, the fronts of your locks pulled back behind your head and pinned into a knot with a white ribbon as the rest lay on your shoulders. A servant had come into the room as a lace was being wrapped around your neck when another necklace was presented.  A small, red gem in the shape of a teardrop- apparently a gift from Taehyung for you to wear. You wore it along with the lace choker.  You could already feel the beginning of an ache in your feet from the heels that encased your ankle and enclosed your toes. 

You stood outside the ballroom entrance door, trying to gather your breath. You would typically enter the ballroom with your guest, but Taehyung would be appearing later on with his father and mother- fashionably late as royalty demanded. 

The moment you entered the ballroom, all eyes were on you along with a small murmur followed by an applause at the arrival of the lady of the hour. You just waved them calm before you took to mingling like a proper lady should.  Speaking and greeting the visitors who took the time to come to your island home, you couldn't get your throat to unclog. 

The anxiousness of singing, the dread of possible mistakes, the sorrow of not being able to dance with the rest of the ladies during the first dance and the ugly jealousy of whoever would be lucky enough to dance with Taehyung first. All of it stuck in your throat like a toad.

You jump when you feel a hand rest on the small of your back, getting your attention. You whirl around, ready to scold who dared to touch you so familiarly, but stopped short when you look up to Taehyung’s snake eyes.  

“Prince,” you muttered. His hand that was on your back moved to rest on your waist in your hasty turn.  He was dressed in a golden vest that matched his hair and compliments his eyes and scales. His white dress shirt beneath his vest was wrinkle-free and his trousers hung off his waist in perfection as the toes of his boots reflected the ballroom’s light. A royal blazer with embroidered shoulders and decorated lapels. His hair was brushed and parted, as soft looking as ever. You noticed a golden teardrop necklace with the chain tucked under his dress shirt’s collar as the gem rested on his chest.  

“You look beautiful, Y/n,” he compliments.  Your face is the same shade of your dress as you fiddled with your skirt.  You took a breath and looked up to him with a smile. 

“You look as handsome as always,” you told him, sincerity dripping off your tongue.  You lifted your hand to toy with the necklace that was given to you. “Thank you for this,” you said. He in turn touched his own golden gem that was nearly identical to yours. You looked around, not seeing the king or queen in the ballroom yet. “Where are your parents?” You asked him as he just chuckled. 

“I came early. I wanted to see you before the event started.” 

“Oh,” was your instant reply to the soft smile on his face.  You cleared your throat as you gathered your thoughts and changed the topic. “So, have you decided on someone to dance with while I sing?” You ask as cheerfully as you could muster.  Your resolve faltered at the look the prince gave you without speaking. Maybe he hadn’t been asked yet? 

“I won’t be participating in the first dance,” he declared with a slightly dipped brow.  “Why would I, knowing that my fiance wouldn’t be my partner?” He grabbed your hand. “I will dance and mingle through the night just as I’m expected to, but if you cannot dance in the event’s opening, then neither will I.” 

Your face grew rosy.  His words were heavy on your heart and squeezed your chest like you were drowning.  Would he ever be aware of just how much his words mean to you? Would he realize one day that everything he tells you and every praise he sings made you want to crumble under the weight of your unspoken, suffocating feelings? 

Eventually, the elder royal couple of Serpent Castle had made their appearance and your presence was requested at the back of the room in preparation. As you spoke with the instrumentalists who would replace your voice through the remainder of the night after your song, you instructed them to stay silent and keep their instruments hushed until you were finished. 

As the opening was announced, partners were grabbed, the floor was scattered with pairs and Taehyung stood behind you, his hands tucked informally into the pockets of his trousers as he watched your back. Then, you sang.  

The hymn was something Taehyung hadn’t heard before.  He had heard you sing up close before, often coming by the shrine at early morning or late evenings just to hear it clearly rather than through his serpent’s blood.  He did not recognize this hymn, yet it resonated so clearly with his serpent counterpart as his blood felt like it was getting warmer behind his skin.  It raised goosebumps on his skin under his clothes and made the hair on the back of his neck stand. 

Whatever this new hymn was, it was immediately his favorite. The flutters it put in his chest made him remove his hand from his pocket just to push his palm against his breast. He felt his heart pound under his palm as he just stared at your back with wide eyes of awe. 

When the hymn was over and the first dance of the evening concluded, there was a round of applause for your unparalleled performance and then the instrumentalists finally took over.  

You felt a weight off your chest as you sighed in relief. You had performed well in your opinion. Not missing your notes or beat, but then again it would be harder to do an official hymn rather than the one you sung.  

“Y/n,” you heard Taehyung call behind you.  Turning, you saw his eyes shining brighter than usual- perhaps it was the ballrooms light gleaming in them. “That hymn, I hadn’t heard that before.” 

“Oh, well it’s because I composed that hymn myself.” You opened your hand and started counting on your fingers. “I suppose it was a few weeks ago, but I have begun writing my own hymns- just to see if perhaps they would be as effective as those written in our books.” You lowered your hand back to your side. “I hope it wasn’t distasteful to you,” 

“It was magnificent,” he breathed in truth. “I hope you sing it often so I may hear it.” 

“I-,” you stuttered at the compliments, “of course. If that’s what you wish, then it shall be my Prince.”  

Taehyung quickly reached for and took your hand, holding it tightly as he pulled you beside him. “Come,” he told you. Leading you out among the peoples in the rooms as they danced to the tunes played by the men who plucked strings and blew into flutes.  “Be my first dance,” he smiled.  “It may not be the first, but it shall be our first dance.” 

Taehyung’s hand re-positioned in yours as his other rested on your waist as you gripped his shoulder and your feet were soon slotted beside each other.  Your chest brushing against his as the next song had begun and your feet moved with the harp and flutes tune. 

Taehyung spoke as you danced, speaking of the upcoming wedding and it’s preparations.  The set up and guest attendance will be filled with all the people in the ballroom currently, leading to him telling you that they would all be staying on the island until the wedding had concluded.  The ceremony was hopefully going to be quick and not a drawn out afternoon, as you got choked up just thinking about it.  

Of course, the toughest part of it all would be vows.  

Your vows specifically.  You briefly wondered if in your vows that fateful day of union, you would admit to him finally that you had loved him for such a long time. Or, should you keep your secret locked up in your heart forever as to not ruin what could be a happy enough marriage. You shook your head, it was clearly Jungkook’s insistent pushing to make you confess getting to you.  You had already made your mind up, you couldn’t change it now. 

The song of harp and whistles ended and you almost immediately drew yourself away from your husband-to-be.  Before he could reach out and stop you from retreating he was flocked with all sorts of visitors.  Women asking to dance- to which he cannot refuse- and men wishing to converse of trade and business with him.  He watched over a sea of heads as you ran off until he couldn’t see you anymore. 

You had retreated to a wall hidden by a table with glass flutes of a sweet alcohol. Typically, you avoided the beverages, but just this once you decided to indulge just a little.  It was a white wine, clear as crystal but not as delightful to drink as the fountain's shrine water. 

“Good evening, My Lady,” a man addressed from beside you.  You were unaware of his approach and his opening startled you. Turning, you saw a man who was undoubtedly from somewhere far inland you imagined.  “I am Duke Lethan. I watch over a small country stead far from the coast of the mainland. I must say, your song earlier was beautiful.” 

His flattery felt nothing like Taehyung’s words.  His cheap words did not make your heart flutter or your stomach toss.  Though, he was being kind and so as to not ruin the merry mood of the ball, you humored him- as much as you wanted to be left alone.  

“Thank you very much, kind Duke.” You spent a small amount of energy carrying general conversation with the duke of the mainland as you kept your guard up. You never did trust the men from off the island, your recent visit abroad having one too many encounters with rude, entitled ones. 

You smiled when you were cued to smile, and you laughed at his small attempts at humble humor, but you just wished for the conversation to end and him to be on his way. Instead, he began to persist in the idea of a dance with you. 

Trying to politely decline the offer, he tried convincing you- obviously not taking no for an answer.  Ready to put your foot down, merrymaking be damned, you felt that familiar hand on your back before it slid around to encase your waist and rest just above your white laced stomach.  It was no surprise- or perhaps it was- to see Taehyung at your side as he held you to his chest. 

“I do believe she’s already refused a dance.  Go find a different partner if you would, Duke Lethan.” Not in a position of authority to begin to argue, the duke just lowered his head and went on his way into the crowd to find some other poor woman to give in to his pressure. “Y/n,” he called as you looked up at him from where you were once watching the duke retreat.  “Dance with me again just once more.” 

He had been watching you as soon as he could locate you after you left him after your dance.  When that duke approached you and started making you smile, something in his chest lurched.  He felt irked just knowing you were conversing so happily with a stranger and not with him.  He was distracted as he danced with a lady from the mainland and he quickly left her abandoned mid-song at the look of distress on your face when the duke wouldn’t depart from your presence.  

However, he would never disclose that to you. He didn’t even understand how he felt, all he knew was that he felt better when you were beside him like this.  

“I’d be honored to dance with you again, my Prince,” you agreed with a smile up at him and the pain in his chest soothed instantly.  You chalked it up to your imagination, but it felt like during this dance Taehyung held you tighter than before. 

As the evening finally started dwelling down, guests started dismissing themselves back to their temporary rooms in the castle or back into town where their room in a local Inn was waiting for them.  You were standing outside the ballroom, fiddling with your necklace. Exhausted from the evening of non-stop mingling and dancing.  

Taehyung had pulled you away from a handful of men who seemed a bit ‘too interested in his fiance’, he claimed.  You danced with him each time he did so. 

“Y/n,” Taehyung called behind you.  You startled, not expecting to be found in your little nook away from the dwindling down madness.  He came to stand beside you, his golden eyes and scales seemed to grow faintly in the dimly lit halls of his castle. “Are you well?” 

You felt a lot of things tonight.  The burning eyes of mainland damsels on your back when you danced with the prince they knew they couldn’t even begin to woo because he simply didn’t give them the time. The watching eyes of older couples of tradition who thought it unjust for a simple priestess to marry into royalty.  The sly eyes of men who wanted to dance to you and maybe catch a grip of something more- not that you’d allow that.  And the squeezing of your heart whenever Taehyung held you and danced. 

You sighed, making Taehyung take a step closer as he raised his arm to rest on your bicep, stroking it in comfort. 

“I just,” you cut yourself off with closed eyes and a breath. “I’m just overwhelming myself and thinking about something.” 

Taehyung moved to stand closer, grabbing your arm and hooking it around and under his own as his hip was next to you.  He smiled down at you as he started walking forward, pulling you with him lightly. 

“We’ll take a walk outside. Fresh air will help,” he told you in promise.  Maybe the moonlight would shed away your worries- you could only hope. You were hardly aware of where Taehyung was leading you as you were so lost in your head.  The fact that the man beside you was going to marry you in just a matter of days spiraled in your head like a hurricane. As did the doubt of if he even wanted to. 

When you finally noticed you had been walking with him in silence for a while, you clocked back into reality and realized he had taken you back to the garden maze.  This same maze is where you first truly realized you were in love with Taehyung and would be for the rest of your life- even if you were so young back then. 

When you were in danger, and you sang- it was him who came running. It was him who found you in the maze and it was him who held you as you cried yourself into unconsciousness.  

It was also this maze where you both sat just hours before that same day, talking in the sunlight that felt so comfortable.  The spot where you realized you were going to marry your childhood playmate. Your one and only love interest and also your kingdom’s precious prince who was filled with serpent blood.  It was this Taehyung who would be your husband and your feet stopped. 

You halted in his step as your arm slipped from around his where it rested and he jerked when he felt it fall and slip away from him.  He stood in front of you, half turned back to see your arm fall back to your side and your chin dipped.  

The way the moon cast a shadow over your body should have been a romanticized look of an ethereal priestess, but the way you stood and avoided eye contact only made it grim. The prince felt his stomach twist as he straightened his back as you lifted your head to look directly at him for the first true time tonight. 

His golden eyes widened a fraction at yours, seeing something in them waver and shake.  It pinned his feet in place. Stood frozen in a half turned state, facing you as your fists balls behind the skirt of your dress, wrinkling the palm of your gloves. 

“Be honest with me, Taehyung,” you called, foregoing his title and addressing him by name.  It made his hair stand.  “Are you going to be happy marrying me?” The prince parted his lips as he looked at you incredulously. Did you not want to marry him? Was that it? Was that what was weighing so heavily on your mind? 

Ever since he could remember, ever since he got engaged to you so long ago in youth, he had known this day would come. He knew a celebration would come and a wedding would soon follow. He knew you were going to become his wife and a princess along with your priestess role.  He had always known, and he had always been impatient waiting for all those moments to come. Now, they had and he was so caught up in himself and his own feelings- had he been wrong to think maybe you’d want to marry him too? 

“Do you regret agreeing to marry me, perhaps?” He asked in answer to your question, still not giving you a proper answer. Your fisted hands uncurled just enough to ensnare your skirt’s cloth as you squeezed them shut once again. 

“That isn’t it,” you harshly breathed.  Denying so strongly that, that isn’t how you felt.  “I’m- gods, I’m overjoyed that I get this chance. I am- just,” you took a calming breath. “I want to know if you’re doing this because you want to, or because your parents told you to.” You felt guilty, playing the card of his parents. He hadn’t often gone against their wishes because they were mostly reasonable people. You feared this engagement was just another order to him. 

“You mean,” he stuttered, finally turning fully around to face you. Still not daring to step closer yet in fear you’d turn and run from the tense air. “You don’t know?” You flinched under his words, thinking for a split moment he was reaffirming that this was because his parents thought it was for the best. “I never knew you thought I didn’t want this marriage to happen. I’ve always been under the impression we agreed to this because we both wanted it.” 

You looked at him with a twisted brow.  What? What does that mean? Before you could ask him, a tear slid down his cheek.  Falling over his golden scales from his equally as gold eyes.  You gasped, stepping closer to him and the moment your hand caressed his cheek and your thumb touched under his eyes, he felt like he could breathe again. 

“Why are you crying, my Prince? Don’t cry, please,” you pleaded.  “I apologize, I should have kept it to myself,” you tried to fix the situation, but the hiccup that leapt from his throat at your words only seemed to worsen it all. 

“Tell me,” he choked as he sniffed and you watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. “How do you feel about me as a husband?” 

“I-,” you hesitated. You could lie, tell him a fib to appease him. Though, if you did- you’d just be biting into your very own poison apple. You wouldn’t lie anymore.  “I love you, and I do want to marry you. I have ever since we were little because I’ve always loved you, Taehyung.” The word vomit spilled out in quick sentences, thinking that the speed of the words would hurt less coming out.  

The prince crumbled, his knees weakening as he grabbed your hands and pushed them further against his face.  His palm covering the back of your hand as his crying grew louder.  You panicked. 

Taehyung fell to his perfectly ironed knees as he kept your hands on his face, weeping. You panicked above him as he reeled into his mind- coming to such sudden realizations. You had been the only constant in his life aside form his very own family. You were always beside him, helping him and learning with him.  You helped him when you were little and you were helping him even now.  

Since when did you really grow up? When did he fall in love with you? 

He was so ignorant of his feelings, he had pushed them off as- he didn’t even know what.  Perhaps, he’s always known- but was too cowardly to admit it to himself and confront that love.  All while he sat in his ignorance, you were withering in your admission and acceptance to how you felt.  For so long, you had been growing more tired and the ache in your chest just kept growing because of him. 

He cracked his eyes open from their squeezed state when he felt your hand move under his to wipe his tears. Your figure was blurry, blending in with the moonlight in the maze when he snatched your wrist and yanked you towards him.  

He sighed when you fell down against his chest.  His breath stuttered with his exhale as he started to finally calm down.  

“I promise to take better care of it,” he started in a stiff, nasally tone. “So, please, give your heart to me and I’ll give you mine in return.” When you stiffened in his hold, he tightened his arms around you, burying his face into your neck where you could feel the chill of his tears on your skin. “I love so much about you, I can’t think of where to begin. Let me be selfish one more time when I ask you to never stop loving me. Because, I don’t think I can stop loving you either.” 

You’re not sure when your tears started falling, but there they were. Trailing down your cheeks and dripping off your chin as you rested against the prince’s shoulder. You just nodded, not trusting your voice.  

The two of you sat, kneeling in the middle of this garden maze crying for what seemed like an eternity before you both finally were able to talk to each other without tears or hiccups.  At the end of the night, Taehyung felt it far too difficult to let go of your hand when he walked you back to your room. 

“Mother,” Taehyung rushed into his parents’ room where the queen was sat at the balcony window, a cup of tea in her hands raised to her lips. “Have you seen Y/n, this morning?” 

“My, you seem to be in a hurry. Did something happen?” His mother’s question made the prince’s cheeks bloom before she was setting her cup down on it’s saucer before replacing it on the windowsill.  “Did you finally admit that you loved the girl?” She chuckled as Taehyung’s chip dropped and his mouth opened.  

“You knew?” He asked, astonished.  

“Call it a mother’s instinct, darling.” She teased.  “Plus,” she chuckled at the state of her son, “your shirt is half tucked in and your cloak isn’t properly clipped.” She rose from her chair and strode to her son’s front, properly latching the golden string across his chest to let the royal violet cloak rest on his shoulders like it should. “Must have been in a rush to see her, huh?” 

“I suppose so,” he smiled down at the top of his mother’s head.  “I’ve been putting her through so much during our years of engagement, I don’t want to be away from her when I don’t need to be.” 

“That’s a big admission from the Serpent Prince, isn’t it,” she jokes as Taehyung smiled wider and shook his head.  He knew she didn’t just see him as the ‘serpent prince’, and neither did his father.  It was just a long running tease from when he confronted them about his ‘destiny’ when he was a kid- birthed from your young, innocent advice.  His smile softened, another realization that opened in his mind of you. “Y/n was called for an early singular devotion. The waves were rough, so she set out to pray in the fountain at dawn.” 

Taehyung stepped away from the queen, thanking her before kissing her cheek and rushing off.  She just chuckled as she readied a story to tell the king when he came out of his morning shower.  

The shrine was deathly quiet as he walked through the doors as quietly as possible.  For single devotions, it was required for the center priestess or priest at the time of management to be alone in the shrine for prayers. It would heighten concentration of spiritual power. 

As soon as he entered, he could feel your power flowing through the shrine's interior like ribbons. He was one of a small circle of people who could enter the shrine anytime without reason no matter the devotion or time- a perk of being the descent of the island god. He walked through to the center fountain and just as he figured, there you were.  

Your back was to him as you were knelt in the fountain water. Your hands were clasped in front of you as your head was dipped, eyes shut and lost in your conscience. He leaned against a pillar, silent as he watched you. It was absolutely silent as you prayed, but he could stand there and watch you do nothing all day and be content.  

He pushed off the pillar when you shivered and then gasped with a jolt.  Losing your sense of balance, you teetered to the side, splashing your hand into the fountain to stop yourself from falling in completely.  The water splashed up into your face and clung to your already soaked, white prayer robe.  

He stopped mid step when you turned to look over your shoulder, seeing him there.  He felt like he had just got caught in a crime, though he was technically not breaking any rules. He saw you exhale a breath, your rigid back deflating into a terrible sense of posture.  

“It was just you, my Prince,” you breathed.  You sat back up, moving to stand from your kneeling in the water as you turned to walk out of the fountain. Taehyung rushed to the fountain’s wall, offering you his hand as you took it and watched your feet as you stepped out.  

Water followed you in a small wave when you hopped over the fountain wall and the shrine’s marble floor became wet as your robe dripped more water along it.  Your robe was nearly translucent.  

Taehyung could see the pink of your thighs and stomach all the way up to your ribs and around your back and bum.  It was proper attire to only wear a single white robe and nothing more when in singular devotion- a reason as to why it had to be cleared of all others in the shrine was to keep the body of the priest or priestess hidden from other’s eyes.  

He quickly unclipped his royal robe from it’s golden string and slung it off and around his shoulders to quickly wrap it around your wet body instead.  You greatly accepted the cover, hiding your body and what could be seen behind it’s thick, warm fabric. 

“What brings you here this morning?” You ask up to him, drops of water falling from strands of your hair.  Taehyung smiled at you, lifting those wet strands and putting them over your shoulder before he leaned to quickly kiss you.  When he stood up, you just covered your lips with your fingertips and a flushed face.  

“I wanted to see you as soon as possible, that’s all.” He gently led you to sit on the fountain wall as he sat beside you and before you could call him cheeky, you both were conversing like before.  Or, perhaps it was easier than before- talking to each other. “We’re getting married soon,” he happily reminded you as if you didn’t already start counting the days. 

“I’m very aware,” you humor him as you pull the cloak further around your shoulders. Taehyung placed his head on your shoulder and days later, when the wedding was held he was anxious all day. 

Unable to see you until the ceremony, he was restless while you were being groomed up and down, while Jungkook stood back and laughed, watching it all happen.  The prince was able to breathe again when you stood beside him as vows were spoken and promises made with them. 

You walked out of the shrine a married woman that afternoon.  That evening, you slept beside your husband and you woke up, not only a priestess, but a princess too. 

- END - 

[jasontoddiefor]

Mandalorian Skywalkers is something I didn’t know I needed but now I’m begging for more. How does Jango find out? What does he do? Free Shmi? Abduct his nephew and his master? Look I’m in need of a 40 chapter fic here that little drabble was so good and I have so many questions!

Aaah thank you! I’m happy to hear you like this AU so much! Don’t know if you’ve seen it but I posted a bit about Shmi’s childhood on AO3! And, well, if I had the patience to start yet another multichapter fanfic, mayyyybe. For now, these will stay One shots. But concerning future plot:

I’ve decided that 14-year-old Anakin & Obi-Wan run into Jango while on a mission

Well, actually, it’s more that they are both in the area. Jango on a job (& to take Boba away from Kamino for a while), the disaster duo there to help out with negotiating peace talks between two groups before the conflict escalates. And as The Force Will Have It, an attack takes place and they get separated.

Jango absolutely does not panic when he loses sight of Boba, he was Mand’alor, he doesn’t stress and having a bastard Jedi in vicinity absolutely doesn’t further aggravate his nerves. Definitely.

Obi-Wan is calm.... enough. He trusts Anakin, his Padawan got this and knows what to do on his own. (He is, however, annoyed that all their missions turn out like this. It was bad enough that his apprenticeship was basically one active combat mission after another, he’s been trying to do better by Anakin. Padawans aren’t supposed to deal with so much active combat before they’re fifteen)

Boba kinda does panic. He’s four and he knows he’s supposed to get back to his ship if he’s ever separated from his father. And he knows he’s not supposed to talk or trust strangers, but well, there’s nothing much you can do when a teenager grabs you to pull you away from the fighting.

Anakin is stressed and sees a kid in danger so he helps him. Kid has a super weird reaction to seeing his lightsaber, but it’s not like Anakin could just leave him there! And Anakin’s language kind of gets away from him when he’s not focusing. Basic is his fourth-ish language okay, and cursing in Mando’a just feels more appropriate. And suddenly the kid stops fidgeting and in rapid-fire Mando’a, all wide-eyed, he asks Anakin how he knew those curses cause his buir told him to never ever say words like that

So Anakin is kind of stunned because sure, he speaks Mando’a and holds conversations in it with Obi-Wan (thought Obi-Wan’s accent is weird. All posh. Anakin’s is decidedly not) but he didn’t expect the kid to know it on some jungle Midrim Planet. But Anakin is an opportunist, so he keeps talking to the kid to calm him down.

Meanwhile Jango and Obi-Wan have taken care of the attackers so things are calming down again. So that’s how the two find Anakin and Boba, sitting in an alley, Anakin distracting Boba with stories of his adventures with Obi-Wan. Jango side-eyes the whole thing so much because what the fuck is this Jedi doing

Anakin spots the two returning. Boba happily runs off to his father and Anakin would like to say he doesn’t fanboy but! Look! That’s real beskar’gam!!!! And Anakin really hasn’t had much opportunity to interact with one half of his heritage (not entirely sure whether I should toss Satine in here yet, and even if I did, I feel like her politics wouldn’t necessarily agree with what Anakin had been taught by his mom) and this guy is obviously one of the Good Ones so he starts rambling

Jango just wants to grab his son and get away from these weird Jedi before they cause trouble but also wait did that kid just say he’s Mandalorian what-

And the thing is. Anakin vaguely knows about his extended family. He knows his mother had siblings and he knew their names. Obi-Wan, seeing that just telling Anakin to forget about it wouldn’t solve his attachments and fears, so he had tried to help him research it but it’s not like hearing your Padawan mention random names will really help figure out his heritage in such a big galaxy if there is nobody searching from the other side.

So here comes Padawan Anakin Skywalker going on about how his last name is actually Fett and his mom’s name is Shmi and continues on and on-

And Jango remembers asking his parents who the other girl standing next to Arla in the holos was. Even if he had been a baby when Shmi was abducted, he knew about his older sister. He was told about her. Time to play connect the dots.

Fast forward by three hours to Obi-Wan calling the council because the mission went sideways, his Padawan found his uncle - who is Jango Fett, yes, that Jango Feet - and cousin and said uncle proceeded to take his Padawan and run away to find his sister and oh I wonder how we could have avoided that if you had just allowed me to free his mother how about that?

So, no. Obi-Wan won’t be returning to the temple, he’s got a Padawan to track down.

Jango, Boba and Anakin are on their to Tatooine to free Shmi, who is actually a little busy on the other side of the galaxy, trying to track down her past because she freed herself.

This got long and it’s only bullet points. Oh well!

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine Advent Drabble 2020 - “Sweet De-feet” (Rated PG13)

Summary:

Twas the night before Christmas, And all through the house, Not a creature was stirring 'cept two grown men And about a thousand ants ... Or, the story about why the thought of his daughter growing up made Blaine pour icing sugar all over the floor. (1131 words)

Notes: Written for the @klaineadvent Drabble Challenge 2020 prompt 'careless'. Sort of follows the one-shot I wrote for @klainetober "Scorched Earth". You don't have to read that one to understand this one. It just happens to go into the start of the 'ant war'.

Read on AO3.

“Blaine …!”

Fssst!

“I know, I know!”

Fssst!

“If you know, why did you do this?”

Fssst!

“I saw it on Pinterest. It looked like a fun idea.”

“There’s your first mistake,” Kurt grumbles, swatting at his arms when he feels tiny feet race along his skin. "Pinterest is evil."

“It’s Christmas Eve! I got excited!” Blaine turns abruptly, burying his head into the crook of his arm when the cloud of Raid Kurt sprays sends him into a coughing fit. “I may not have been thinking very clearly.”

“You think!? We still have an entire FAO Schwartz worth of presents to wrap! Instead, we’re in the kitchen battling ants because you invited their buggy asses in!”

Fssst!

“It’s not like I scooped them up by the handfuls and carried them inside!”

“No, you did the next best thing! You poured icing sugar all over the damned floor! Sugar, Blaine! That’s pretty much all ants eat!”

Fssst!

“It’s not all over the floor! They’re footprints. They’re supposed to be … Santa’s … footprints …” Blaine explains, backing down in the face of his husband’s rage.

His completely reasonable rage.

“We have been fighting ants all summer! There are a dozen things in this house you could have used instead of sugar! What possessed you to do something so … so careless?”

Blaine sighs. He sets his can of Raid on the kitchen counter, then leans against it, crossing his arms over his chest like an embarrassed kindergartner. “Tracy.”

“What about Tracy?”

“She’s six.”

Kurt puts his own can down, waiting silently for the rest of it. He’s already reached the end of his rope. He’s hanging on by his fingernails. It’s too late at night … correction - early in the morning! … for this conversation. “Yes, and …?”

“And she’s not going to believe in Santa for too much longer. In fact, I’m not entirely convinced she does now. She probably writes her letter every year and puts out cookies to humor us.”

Kurt nods, joining his husband against the counter. He’s gotten that feeling as well. Not for any big reason. It’s not like she’s sat him down to have “the talk”. Her eyes still light up at the mention of Christmas, she’s still as excited as ever to partake in all of their holiday rituals. But it doesn’t feel the same as it used to. It doesn’t have the same energy. He doesn’t know if someone at school clued her in or if she figured it out on her own. 

But something has changed. 

“That’s a possibility,” Kurt agrees.

“Cooper’s the one who ruined Santa Claus for me,” Blaine says with the subtlest of sniffles, the slightest brush of a fingertip underneath his eye. Whatever he’s feeling - fear, nostalgia, melancholy - he’s hiding it from Kurt. Badly. “Told me about him when I was four.”

“I thought Cooper might have something to do with this,” Kurt teases, even while, deep inside, he seethes. They won’t be seeing Cooper or any of their family this year because of the pandemic. It’s going to be a Very Merry Facetime Christmas for the Ander-Hummel household and their extendeds. But next time they get the chance to see one another face to face, Kurt plans on spiking Cooper’s whiskey sour with something that will give him the shits for a week.

“Did you?” Blaine says dryly. “And why’s that?”

“Because Cooper’s an ass, that’s why! You’re a saint for putting up with a third of his crap!” 

Blaine snorts humorlessly. “Weren’t you the one with the huge crush on him in high school?”

“Yeah, well, that was before I met him, talked to him for longer than a minute. The shine of the whole Free-Credit-Rating-Today-dot-com-slash-savings thing wears thin after a while. I’d say I ended up with the better of the Anderson brothers. Definitely the one with the nicer rump.” Kurt bumps Blaine with his shoulder, trying to coax a laugh out of him. He doesn’t get one, but he gets an arm around his middle, accompanied by one of Blaine’s lingering squeezes. And despite the fact Kurt imagines the two of them are being scaled like a monolith by microscopic intruders, he’s willing to stay as long as possible in the warmth of Blaine’s embrace.

“I just want her to be a kid for as long as possible,” Blaine says. “That’s all.”

“She’s six. She’s not going to get a job tomorrow and move into a high rise. We have time.”

“But it will happen. Everything is going by so fast. I feel like I blink and she’s another year older, another foot taller. I don’t want childhood to be one of those things that disappear in the blink of an eye while I’m racing to catch up, wondering where it all went.”

“I know.” Kurt curls into his husband’s side and kisses him on the top of his head. “I understand. I feel that way, too. Tracy and I … we’ll sit down to play together ... we’ll talk and laugh, and before I know it, an hour has gone by. And I start thinking - is every moment with her going to be like that? Just fly by? Then I take a deep breath, close my eyes, count to ten. I try to slow down and take it all in.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s just like that.”

“You and I are in the privileged position to take a break from life during these hectic times and focus on our little girl. So let’s remember to do that a little more often. Okay?”

“Okay,” Blaine says with another sniffle.

“Okay,” Kurt repeats. And as much as he would love to stay snuggled in this moment with his husband all night, he feels something scurry up his inner thigh, in danger of becoming too intimately acquainted without the courtesy of buying him dinner first. “Come on, Saint Nick,” Kurt says, smacking his leg. “You sweep up the sugar and the ant corpses. I’ll get some Plaster of Paris from the closet, and we can re-do these footprints.”

“Really?” Blaine says with relief, as if his husband offering his help in this matter might push back the clocks, halt the outcome he feared, for one more year.

“Really. Let’s save the icing sugar for decorating dessert.”

“That’s right,” Blaine says, wiping a few traitorous tears on the shoulder of his shirt, hoping his husband doesn't notice the dark marks. “I can't stop thinking about all the cookies you made, and that three-tiered cake …”

"You know what I can't wait to put icing all over and devour?"

"What's that?"

Kurt grabs his husband by the waist and pulls him close. He kisses him on the cheek. Then he pinches his butt. "You.”

[robertsheehanownsmyass]

images[DOT]app[DOT]goo[DOT]gl/xgZPX93dVPRdMeBs7 Could you maybe write a drabble of Luba falling for the reader who was dragged by her friends to the bar or the parlor, they flirt a lot and then things get smutty?

Sheehanoween!

Your wish is my command! More about the event here. Send your gifs!

Ethereal Creatures

Luba x Fem!Reader Warnings: language. Kinky steam

Why is it a requirement for bachelorette parties to end up in places like this?

You hated clubs. You hated the noise, the crowds, the expense. You hated that the experience turned every one of your girlfriends into giggling, binge-drinking morons. Somewhere someone decided that this is what people were supposed to do for a bachelorette party, and you wished that you could punch whoever that was in the face. 

You sat huddled in the corner of your booth, your vodka tonic clutched in one hand as you watched your friends whoop it up. “We’re gonna go dance, c’mon!” one of them shouted to you as the four of them made their way down to the dance floor. “No thanks,” you replied, feigning cheerfulness. “I’ll stay here and watch our stuff.” She shrugged and stumbled off.

You watched the sweaty, writhing bodies dancing under the flashing lights and loud pumping base for a while, sipping your drink, when a lightly accented voice pulled you away from the scene before you. “Are you all set on dri-- oh, it’s just you.”  You turned your head and saw an otherworldly creature leaning up against the side of the nook in which you sat. They were mostly shirtless, dressed only in skin-tight leather pants and a small vest, and their lean, sculpted torso somehow appeared to shimmer, as if it was dusted with a luminous powder. Their platinum blond hair was pulled back into a plaited bun with a dramatic sweep of spiky bangs, and their elf-like features were accented by long silver false eyelashes. Your mouth quickly dropped open in surprise before you snapped it close again, quickly averting your gaze.

“Don’t worry,” they cooed, clearly noticing your surprise. “I don’t bite.”

You chuckled awkwardly and buried your face in your drink, draining the last few drops.

“Why are you all alone? Have your friends left you?”

“No,” you said, “I’m just watching their stuff. I’m not really into dancing and the whole club scene. No offence.”

“None taken,” they said. “I actually find the whole thing quite boring myself, but it pays the bills, so to speak.”

You smiled. “I’ll bet you get a lot of tips,” you said before cringing at yourself. Why did you say that out loud?

The elf smiled and tilted their head contemplatively. “Now why would you say that?” Their voice was playful; teasing.

“Well,” you said with a shrug. “Beautiful people always get the best tips.”

They huffed out a soft chuckle at that. “Well look at you getting right to the point. Isn’t that refreshing. Call me Luba. I’m about to go on my break. Care to join me?”

“What about my friends' things?” you asked.

“Fuck their things,” Luba replied. “You have better shit to do.”

You laughed. “Ok, sure. Let’s go.”

Luba took your hand as you stood, and they led you through the club and out the back door. They leaned casually against the side of the building and sparked up a cigarette. “Would you like one doll?” They tilted the pack in your direction.

“No thanks, I don’t smoke,” you said.

“Lucky you,” they replied, and fixed you with a particularly intense stare. You weren’t sure what to do next, and you awkwardly felt the need to fill the silence.

“So...have you worked here long?” you asked.

“Oh honey,” Luba said, sighing. “Don’t disappoint me by being boring. You seemed so different than the other bimbos and himbos that come here.”

You felt a stab of anger before Luba broke into a grin and laughed, easing your bruised ego.

“I’m just playing with you honey. Now come here.” They held out their arm. You took their hand and stepped closer.  Luba closed the remaining distance between you and stood over you, one of their legs pressed against your thigh. “You might hate the scene,” they purred. “But you do enjoy a little excitement, don’t you.” They spoke it as if it was a statement and not a question. “I can tell you’re a naughty girl.”

Your heart started to beat faster. “I do get into trouble from time to time,” you said, matching their tone.

“I wonder just what sort of trouble you could get into in an alley behind a nightclub,” they said, and pressed in closer to you. You didn’t respond, only breathed. You looked up at them with dark eyes, answering them with your look.  They bent their head until their lips barely brushed yours. “Are you wondering now,” they said, “what you are willing to get up to out here?”

You wrapped your arms around their shoulders and pressed your lips to theirs, relishing in the soft smoothness of them, and you teased their lips with your tongue. Suddenly Luba opened their mouth and slipped their tongue into yours, kissing you back with intensity. They cupped the back of your head roughly as they moaned softly into your mouth, your tongues warring with each other. They turned and  pushed you back against the side of the building and ground their pelvis into yours. You gasped as you felt their bulge press into your crotch, and you would have allowed them to take you right then and there, should they be so inclined.

Instead, they broke the kiss and stepped away from you, watching as your chest heaved, your eyes wild with desire. “Look at you,” they purred. “Look at you, you wild, naughty thing.”

“Stop teasing me,” you warned, your voice thick with lust. 

“Oh trust me,” Luba replied. “I’m not. But I am wondering what you will be doing after I get off work. I’d like to continue this little adventure of ours.”

“I’m at a bachelorette party with my friends,” you said, rolling your eyes. “It’s torture.”

“Ditch them,” Luba said simply. “It will be easy.”

“How?” you asked, puzzled.

“Oh their shit will definitely be stolen by the time you get back,” they said as your mouth fell open in dismay. “They will be furious with you.”

“No that’s awful!” you cried.

“Don’t worry,” Luba cooed. “I know where all the shit that is stolen here gets fenced. I can get it back, and then they will forgive you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re evil,” you said.

“Maybe,” Luba said, tossing their spent cigarette away and striding toward the back door to the club. “But something tells me you will enjoy that.”

You smiled wryly, following them to the door. Yes, you thought. Yes I do believe I will.

[captainjimothycarter]

Drabble idea: Steve and Peggy meet each other when they get assigned as lab partners in college.

So I uh never did something in college or HS that needed lab partners sooo this might be lacking. This might not be what you expected.

--

“You like him,” Angie giggled behind her blueberry muffin. Her eyes were bright with the glee of a new topic to gossip on for that hour.

Peggy, for her sake, rolled her eyes as she stabbed at a piece of chicken with her fork and waved it threateningly in front of her roommate’s face. “We are lab partners. That’s it. Mr. Gregg, just thought it was a good idea to pair us together to be lab partners for this upcoming project. That’s it.” 

“Aw, c’mon, Pegs. You don’t see what I do. You go googley-eyes on him!”

“I do not.” 

“You talk about him all the time.”

“Because he’s in four of my six classes so I see him ninety percent of the week. It doesn’t mean I have some school-girl crush on him.”

“And,” Angie continued, promptly ignoring Peggy’s rebuttal. “You sit next to each other in class, even French. Face it, Pegs, you have a grade-A crush and it’s nothing to be ashamed about. It’s adorable.”

Peggy had no response as she bitterly shoved the chicken into her mouth for one reason - Angie was right and she hated how right she was.

--

“Whose the girl?” Sam asked Steve on his second day of classes after he’d waited for the blonde outside the room.

Steve peered up from the last-minute notes he was reviewing, watching Peggy walk by him after meeting her roommate. “Oh, uh, Peggy.”

“Peggy, huh? You sure spending lots of time lookin’ at her.” Sam was teasing, he could hear it dripping in his voice and Steve hated it. This would of course find its way back to Bucky to tease him about during his weekly phone call while out of state in the military.

“Sam, stop it. We’re just friends, ain’t nothing to it.”

“Sure, buddy, whatever you say but sooner or later it’s turnin’ into something else. I can see it happening. Just make sure I’m the best man at your wedding.”

“Please, you know that spots reserved for Bucky when I wound up marrying my easel.”

Because who’s gonna want to marry a 5’4, asthmatic, 92-pound guy that can’t even see straight without glasses? Not that Steve minded, he was happy alone and with friendships, but sometimes that loneliness did catch up to you.

And damn Sam to hell and back for being right.

A month and a half later, as Peggy walked away after promising to email him the extra credit assignment for Art History, Steve was fully aware that he had a crush on her.

And it was pathetic.

--

“So,” Bucky sighed over the phone three months later. “Sam says you got a date with your lil’ crush tonight.”

He was going to kill Sam. “No, I have a lab assignment with Peggy tonight. It’s not a date. And she’s not a crush.”

“Even over a thousand miles away, Rogers, I can tell you’re lying. Sam, are his ears turning pink?”

Goddamnit, Steve regrets putting Bucky on speaker. Or even introducing Sam and Bucky. 

“Yeah, man. Bright shades of pink, oh his cheeks too. And his neck - hey you’re a full-body blusher. Pegs is gonna love that!”

As the boys laughed, Steve drew the hood of his jacket over his head and grumbled, shoving his books into his bag. “You two are idiots. I’m going to Peggy’s, don’t wait up.”

Before Bucky could respond, he hung up on him and then three minutes later sent him a text about how he missed him and how Sam really seems into him.

That’ll shut him up.

--

Eight o’clock on the dot. Don’t you dare be late.

That’s what Peggy had told the asthmatic blonde when they met up after Astrology 101 to discuss the lab. Steve would be coming over to her place, they would go over their notes, the assignment, and then head down to the lab at their scheduled time.

It was not a date, no matter what she told Angie. This was not a date. This was just two friends, no two co-students, acquaintances getting together to complete an assignment. 

So who cared if she couldn’t stop thinking about him? Or if she wondered at times if his lips looked as soft as they felt. Or worried about him when he wasn’t in class or late and looked so flushed and yet relieved when he saw her there. Or the time she skipped class because her period cramps were too much and Steve looked so relieved to see her the next day. 

She thought about that look in his eyes often and hated how it gave her goosebumps, she hated how it made her stomach clench and butterflies to form. She tried to talk to Michael about it, but the man was just as hard to get ahold of and when he wasn’t, he teased her as all big brothers did.

Then proclaimed if she fell for a Yank, he was gonna revoke her English rights.

The prat.

8 o’clock and no Steve.

Peggy thought about calling him, a little worried because he wasn’t the type to be late. She decided to wait until half an hour. Half an hour and if Steve wasn’t’ here, she’d call him. Luckily, she didn’t have to because at 8:18 Steve showed up, face flushed, wheezing, and his hair sticking up in all directions.

“Oh you poor thing,” was the first thing out of her mouth, the worry and anxiety melting off of her. She should be mad that he was late or mad that she thought he stood her up, but she was just relieved. “Are you okay? What happened?” 

Taking him by the arm, she leads him inside and straight on her couch, bustling off to the kitchen to get him a glass of water and a snack cake. The guy looked peckish.

“Oh, I…” He shouldn’t like the fact she was doting over him, in fact, he should hate it, but by her doting, over him, it meant she was touching him and he liked that. “I had an asthma attack.”

It sounded like it took everything in him just to admit that and Peggy tried to ignore how that kicked-puppy look tugged on her heart. Steve hated pity and she wasn’t pitying him, she was worried. There was a difference.

“I’m okay now,” he continued, sipping on the water. “I guess I just got worked up and kinda lost and…” His thin shoulders shrugged as if to brush the fact he has a medical emergency off. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

“You’re sorry?” The words came from her before she could help it. He was sorry for what? Having a medical emergency? 

It didn’t do any good when Steve flinched at her accusing tone.

“Steven, by no means should you be sorry. Yes, I was worried but you’re here now and you’re okay. It’s behind us. Do you still want to go to the lab? I could just reschedule us.”

“If we reschedule now it might take us two weeks to get a spot and we’ll be crunched for time.” He looked genuinely worried, eyes wide. “I’ll be fine. We can head over now.”

There was little argument from Peggy on that end. Steve was right, if they rescheduled then it could take them a while but that’s not what sold the deal. The fact she got more time with him as of right now was better than waiting.

--

“How’d you get lost?” Peggy asked, driving a stoic Steve from his thoughts as they braved the cold air after spending three and a half hours in the lab. It was now officially Saturday, meaning they could sleep in. Angie wasn’t home and wouldn’t be home until noon tomorrow, so she was looking forward to peace and quiet. 

Steve drew his scarf tighter around his face, looking up at her with cocked eyebrows. It was going to snow, he could feel it in his aching bones. “Oh. Uh, when I get an asthma attack I get...disorientated. Everything looked the same, I didn’t wanna call for help cause I was fine.”

Peggy couldn’t help herself in rolling her eyes. “I think we both have a different definitions of fine, Mr. Rogers. You are certainly not fine. I can still hear you wheezing and you had a hard time concentrating on the measurements tonight.”

She frowned as she watched him pat his pockets, obviously searching for something. “You okay, Steve?”

“My inhaler! I thought I had it on me, but I think I left it in your dorm. I-I’ll be fine without it, I can get it in the morning.”

“Steven Grant Rogers, you are not waiting until morning to get a life-saving device because of...what? You don’t want to be seen in my dorm? It’s co-ed, I can assure you that it’s fine!”

“I just don’t...want...people to assume or-or get you in trouble. Or...or…” His cheeks were heating up bright pink, Peggy found she adored the color on his cheeks.

“Or…” She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, her hand snatching out to grab at a lamp post to keep from falling on a section of ice. It was already starting to snow around them, the ground cold enough to make it stick.

Steve cursed as he wrapped his arms around her chest, preventing her from falling. Both of their faces flushed, Steve’s more than Peggy’s at this point. The second they both were stable, he let go and took an unnecessary step away from her.

“Thank you,” she breathed, clearing her throat. “I think that decides that Steve, you’re staying with me tonight. Don’t worry, Angie is out tonight with her gal. I’m not risking you out in this storm.”

There was no point in arguing with Peggy, Steve knew this by now. He’s seen her debate lesser and greater minds than his in class and absolutely destroy them. Besides, part of him liked this idea, staying with her for the night. Maybe if he got enough courage he could ask her out, tell her how he felt or something. 

If he was anything like Bucky, he knew what he’d do. He’d whoo her and kiss her. But he wasn’t Bucky or Sam. He had no social skills with girls but he liked Peggy. 

“Home sweet home,” Peggy sighed when they were finally inside, their wet clothed stripped off and drying on the heater now. She sat Steve on the couch and bundled him in a bunch of blankets, coming back from the kitchen with two steaming cups of hot chocolate.

Sitting on the couch, she wiggled under the pile of blankets, not to much of Steve’s protest. Her thigh was touching his at this point. “Oh, you’re warm,” she breathed, sounding surprised. 

“Amazingly,” Steve laughed, rolling his eyes. “I think it’s the third cup of hot chocolate you’re forcing in me.”

He yawned as he said this, his face was suddenly drawn in a show of how exhausted he was. He looked so adorable when he yawned, his nose wrinkled up. He still had a smudge of ink on his forehead from when he was rubbing his brow in frustration.

“I’ve always said hot chocolate is good for the soul. Much better than any tea you have here.” Tapping on her laptop screen, she was happy to get Netflix up and hit the next episode on Chopped. 

Steve didn’t even make it to the second round of the episode, unsure of who was sent home for an overcooked risotto or missed basket ingredient. He was asleep, slumping into Peggy.

He was quite warm, Peggy noted, easing Steve down to her lap. He was warm and looked so adorable when asleep. That walk and asthma attack must’ve taken a lot of out of him, regardless of what he told her. At least he was resting now in her arms.

This isn’t where Peggy thought she’d end up tonight, but it’s a place she’d glad to be.

[gaycrouton]

A Collection of Constants

msr / collection of drabbles / multi-season

This work is a huge, belated thank you to the wonderful Don'tPanicFace who was so, so, so kind to me at X-Fest! So sorry it's so late, but I hope you enjoy it and I am oh so thankful. I also went a slightly weird way with the prompt, but I hope you'll like it! Prompt: "Mulder once told Scully he liked her freckles as she was covering them with makeup, & she scoffed. He said he loved every single one, & it became a thing that he's cataloguing all the freckles on her body."

2016

“You have some new ones,” he stated, the sentence tumbling from his lips without a second thought as he watched her work. His case report on the Man-Lizard (formerly titled Lizard-Man) laid unfinished in front of him as his eyes wandered to their favorite destination.

“Hmm?” she replied from the back of her throat, not bothering to look up.

Her suit jacket had long been discarded to the seat behind her and her bare arms rested gracefully on the desk in front of her. Even from here, even with his bad eyesight, he saw a few new tan freckles littering her arms, kissing the skin gently like he had all those years ago. 

“You have new freckles on your arm,” he murmured, leaning forward to tap her arm in four different places all while lingering a beat longer than necessary.

Either the touch or its duration caused her to look up at him with a raised eyebrow as she looked back down at her arm. “I don’t know,” she shrugged, passing it off as a question when they both knew it wasn’t.

“No, you do. I’m certain,” he teased, pointing to two more on her other arm.

“Mulder,” she replied sternly, her voice a gentle warning to knock it off.

It wasn’t that she was ignoring their prior relationship, no - but every time he made a referential comment or innuendo, she put her walls back up. In his worst moments, he feared it was her wanting to shut him down before he could get his hopes up for a relationship she had no interest in rekindling. In his best moments, he thought she didn’t want to get her hopes up that he was better only to be let down. 

But he was better. Is better. And he was going to do everything he could to let her know that.

He’d spent years gaining Scully’s trust, her faith in him - in them.

He raised his hands in gentle concession. He’d listen better this time around. He gave her a small smile as he scooted forward towards his desk, picked up a discarded pencil, and started working. 

1995

It was a beauty mark.

What made a beauty mark different than a mole, he wasn’t necessarily sure, but what he did know was that impromptu shower in the high school gymnasium took off her usual cover up and revealed a light brown spot on her upper lip.

He’d suspected probably everything under the sun: a raised bump, freckle, a mole, a patch of dry skin that caught her foundation, he’d even considered it was a beauty mark, but he couldn’t guess why she’d cover it up.

They always say that near-death experiences make you grateful for the little things you take for granted, and right now he was irrationally relieved he lived through an attempted sacrifice at the hands of crazy cultists to finally find out what was on her lip.

“Mulder, why do you keep staring at me?” she asked, running her hands over her damp hair for the umpteenth time as if that alone would prevent the curls in her hair from fully forming. 

“I like your beauty mark,” he replied, lifting his hand and gesturing to her lip, resisting the urge to let his finger graze it.

She touched it in his place with the slight roll of her eyes. “Thanks,” she muttered with sarcastic enthusiasm.

“What, don’t you like it?” he asked, his brows furrowing. 

The flashes of crime scene cameras followed by their gentle whirrs created a strange juxtaposition to their mundane conversation, but Scully didn’t seem to be put off by his line of questioning and he figured she was grateful for the respite from the events of the night. “I just always have,” she shrugged, pursing her lips.

“Marilyn Monroe had one,” he offered. 

“On her cheek,” Scully corrected.

“Cindy Crawford has one on her upper lip. I think Madonna has one right where you do.”

Scully looked at him with a cocked eyebrow and he realized his attempt to make her feel better may not have been working as he’d hoped. “You sure seem to know a lot about beauty marks,” she deadpanned.

He shrugged self consciously and emitted a half-hearted chuckle. “I think they’re called beauty marks for a reason.”

She smirked for half a second before suppressing it. “I’ve always been told it looks too big for my face,” she admitted honestly.

“They were wrong.”

1997

It wasn’t like he’d never seen them before. The makeup she used might’ve boasted ‘24 Hour, long lasting, Smudge-proof wearability’, but a day in the life of Scully and a day in the life of the average Covergirl consumer were vastly different. Sometimes he’d catch her in her motel room after she’d washed her face and it was adorned with more freckles than normal. Sometimes he’d wait to say goodnight to her just in the hopes of catching a glimpse of them.

Now, he could see them all on display as she lay bare-faced and sleeping in the hospital bed. He couldn’t see himself, but he knew his face was blotchy and red, as if he’d absorbed all the color the cancer had taken from her.

His knees ached from kneeling on the hospital floor next to her, but this was a vigil he couldn’t find the heart to move from. She still hadn’t woken up, despite his sobbing right next to her for the better part of an hour. Probably a result of the heavy meds they were using to keep her free from pain, to make this all easier for her.

He felt a fresh wave of tears sting his eyes, and he looked upwards towards the ceiling to blink them away. He felt like he was trying to swallow a rock, but he didn’t want to wake her on accident. He’d rather be careful than acknowledge it’d take a lot to wake her up now. 

He sniffed as quietly as he could and looked back down at Scully. Her small frame was lit up by the moonlight streaming in through the blinds. Her dainty hand was still in his, next to the slowly evaporating, large wet spot where his face had just lain.

The occasional flickering behind her eyelids and the gentle rise and fall of her ribs were his only indication she was alive. She is alive. His throat tightened back up as the world blurred. 

Figuring it was a fruitless effort, he let the tears fall down his cheeks as he stared at the ghostly white version of the face he’d been looking at for four years. He let out a small breath through barely opened lips as his eyes caught sight of her uncovered beauty mark, now darker against her alabaster skin. 

There was another, much smaller, dot on her cheek - a dark freckle normally covered up by makeup, she had another prominent one on her forehead near her hairline, but without a doubt, she had the most on the bridge of her nose. Some of those were so close they almost became an indistinguishable clump of amber.

Eighty eight, that he could count, of course. And that was just on her face. Some of them were chocolate brown, others were a faint tan color, imperceivably different than her skin. He was certain that he’d seen more during their summer cases when she valued sunscreen over moisturizer and the sun had darkened them. 

His face was still hot, there was still the uncomfortable pressure at the front of his face, but the tear tracks had finally dried. The rhythmic counting of her freckles had acted like a gentle metronome to center him. He had no idea what to do, but he had a mental map of all the small details of her face, and just that soothed him ever so slightly. Even in her sleep, she could still comfort him. 

Letting go of her hand as gently as he could, he stood upright on sore legs and roughly wiped his face with the palms of his hands.

He had work to do. He had to fix this.

1999

He was bolder. They both were. This thing between them didn’t have a name, but it had a feeling. A feeling of melancholy when Friday rolled around and they hadn’t made plans yet, the prospect of a weekend without the other sounding suspiciously miserable for two coworkers. A feeling of butterflies when “Hey it’s me” was followed by “Do you want to come over?” A feeling of intense longing when body heat was shared from sitting too close on a couch. A feeling that it still wasn’t close enough.

While she was a bit bolder in physical touch, he was a bit more blunt with his words. 

“Why do you cover up your freckles?” he asked one morning when she was doing her makeup in a motel mirror. That was new too. He’d get up early just for the chance to sit on her bed and watch as she did her morning routine, usually under the guise of bringing her coffee and then overstaying his welcome. 

She turned to look at him, face still bare minus the sheen of makeup being applied to her skin. “I like them,” he followed up, seeing a few of them peeking out in areas she hadn’t covered yet.

She scoffed goodnaturedly before returning to the mirror, rubbing circles against the skin of her face. “Did you know people are less likely to take women with freckles seriously than those without?” she asked.

His brow furrowed as he tried to recollect the women in his life who had freckles. She took his silence as a ‘no’ and continued, “It makes women look young. Men don’t take young women seriously. I work in two male dominated fields, and with my freckles I look like a co-ed. Consequently, I cover them up.”

“That’s a shame,” he murmured honestly. She looked back over at him as she picked up a brown tube of eyeliner, shrugging her shoulders as if it was just something she’d come to accept. “I love every single one of them,” he smiled at her.

She looked down as the corners of her mouth quirked up. Even through the layer of makeup, he could still see her turning pink.

“Thanks, Mulder.”

He knew the thing between them wasn’t really nameless. It started with L, ended with E, and had a lot of fear in between. But he’d conquered much scarier things with Scully by his side before.

2000

Two on her left shoulder blade.

One on mid-back.

Two on her lower-back.

Three on her breasts.

One on her abdomen.

One on her outer labia lip.

He got a little distracted after that, but just like the sentiment Scully had been screaming, he knew there were more.

His hands were on her warm back as she raised up and down in time with his breathing, her own even breaths coming out hot on the skin of his neck. “The freckles on your back look like Cassiopeia,” he murmured, running his hand up and down her spine. 

“We tried a new position and you were staring at my freckles?” she teased, his theory she was falling asleep evident in her tone.

“I was staring at a lot of things, Scully,” he cooed in reassurance. As he said this he let his hand slide further down her spine so he could cup her left cheek. His spent member stirring ever so slightly inside of her.

She laughed lightly and he could feel her roll her eyes. “You’re insatiable,” she murmured.

“I think I could say the same about you,” he laughed, looking at the discarded shirt on her vanity that was now missing several buttons. He felt her nuzzle impossibly closer to him, her breast plastered to his bare chest, and it made a smile spread across his face. This was real. The warmth of her skin and the smell of sex still lingering in the air was proof enough.

He raised his hand back up the slope of her spine as he moved to press his index finger into the top freckle on her shoulder-blade, tracing a delicate line to the next until he’d created a connect-the-dot pattern on her back from memory.

“Was tha’ Cassio-peia?” she mumbled, barely clinging onto consciousness.

He gently grabbed the quilt tangled at his side and spread it out on top of them the best he could without jostling her, earning a contented hum.

Crunching his neck upwards, he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and whispered, “Yes. Cassiopeia, the Queen.”

There was no response as her breathing evened out completely. Enjoying the weight of her on his chest, he smiled sweetly to himself. He’d spent years trying to find answers in the stars and now he had a constellation lying in his arms. 

2001

“I have to be honest, I was really expecting a head of bright red hair,” he whispered, not wanting to wake the newborn on his chest. 

Scully was reclined next to him, propping herself up on an elbow to look at her boys. “He looks like his dad,” she murmured with a smile, a playful twinkle in her eyes. 

“Is that why he doesn’t have any freckles?” he asked, stroking the few brown hairs on the baby’s head into a mohawk.

Scully laughed softly at his attempt and answered, “No, he doesn’t have freckles because freckles don’t develop until the ages two to four.”

“I bet his first one will be right here,” he whispered, faintly pointing to the upper bridge of his William’s little nose.

Scully rolled her eyes, but played along nonetheless. “I’ll place my bets here,” she replied, pointing to William’s cheek, indulging just a little to stroke the soft skin.

“Oh really?” Mulder challenged playfully.

She nodded before leaning closer to him. “Like I said, he looks like his dad,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his own light beauty mark laid against his stubble.

His cheek pressed against her lips as he smiled, and he turned to catch her lips instead. This was what serenity felt like. 

“I don’t know, Scully. The piercing blue eyes, the fact he willingly wants to be near me. Those traits alone make him unquestionably Scully,” he explained.

She closed her eyes and let out a little exhale laugh through her nose before scooting even closer to him, laying flush to his side as they both stared at the little sleeping baby. “Just wait, he’s going to be towering over me spouting off conspiracy theories in no time,” she replied wistfully.

2002

“Do you know what that is, Gibson?” Mulder asked, pointing up towards the night sky. He’d been upset with himself all day and he finally convinced himself to go outside for some fresh air.

Dearest Dana.

He’d most likely put his family in danger because he couldn’t contain how much he missed them. Gibson let him go through his miscellaneous magazines and he’d come across an old “Best of the 80s” edition of Rolling Stone. He went from blissfully distracted with a Bob Dylan feature to feeling the wind knocked out of him with a picture of Madonna from her “Like a Virgin” days.

A beauty mark on the upper lip. 

She was everywhere.

“It’s Cassiopeia,” Gibson replied immediately.

Mulder glanced over at the kid who was drawing in the sand with a stick, focused on his task. “Did you actually know that or did you hear me?”

“You’ve thought about it a lot. This is the first time I’ve seen it in the sky though,” he replied pointedly.

Mulder cringed in embarrassment that wouldn’t ease no matter how many times it happened. “Sorry.”

A silence fell between them as Mulder looked back up, his eyes going to every individual star that comprised the constellation. “You’re doing it again,” Gibson muttered.

He let out a long sigh and looked at Gibson. Most middle school boy’s experience with the female form came from Playboy or Penthouse, but Gibson now unfortunately had his classmates beat, all thanks to Mulder. “Would you mind…” he trailed off, looking back to the opening of their hideout.

“Sure,” he agreed, letting the stick fall soundlessly to the ground as he turned to walk away. Mulder heard the sounds of him walking, but stopping short of the door. “It was just an email. I doubt we can be found just through that alone. Besides, I bet it meant a whole lot to her.”

He’d long learned it was useless to placate the boy by trying to agree when his heart wasn’t in it. He respected him more than that. All he could offer was a small smile and a thanks, which Gibson reciprocated in kind.

Turning back to the sky, he was reminded of his own queen. Was she safe? Was William safe? Was this as hard for her as it was for him?

He knew it was. He just hoped this was all worth it in the end.

2003

“This one is my favorite,” he murmured, kissing the crook where her neck met her shoulder.

She let out a breathy, shaky laugh as she trembled in his arms. He’d spent the better part of an hour trying to find every single freckle and mark on her body. He hadn’t taken the time to do this inventory before, and it pained him immensely while they were apart. He wouldn’t take it for granted again. He wanted to know every intimate, minute detail of Scully’s body.

She was giggling when he started the journey with his fingers, but the giggling died down when he started using his mouth. Now she had the motel bedsheets in a white knuckle grip as she lay naked with him hovering above her. “Oh really?” she panted, not succeeding in feigning interest in discussion that didn’t pertain to her impending orgasm.

“And I like this one,” he murmured, suckling the one on the underside of her left breast. 

She gently arched upwards, making the skin of their lower abdomens rub against each other. He gasped with a laugh and moved down. “And I like this one,” he repeated, licking the two freckles on her prominent hip bone lightly.

“More,” she whispered breathlessly.

“This one,” the words tumbled from his mouth as he scooted backwards so he could kiss her inner thigh with ease.

She took her turn moving on the bed and readjusted herself so that it was her dripping arousal in his face instead of her thigh. Point taken.

“Especially this one,” he growled, using his thumb to press onto the labia freckle while his mouth went straight to her clit.

She seemed to like that one too.

2018

He could look now. 

When he’d mentioned a few new markings on her arms after the Guy Mann case, he’d been shut down. Now, he felt empowered. The same serotonin rush he would get all those years ago when she’d coyly accept his invitation to his apartment was back in full swing. 

She was still nervous, he could tell that from the way she seemed to get quiet after indulging in an overly intimate comment. As if she was reflecting on if she should or shouldn’t have said it. But it was different than it was when they first started working on X-Files again. The trepidation had been replaced with something that looked like hope. It was an expression he was all too familiar with as he saw it every time he looked in the mirror. 

He’d never press her too much - the best things in life come to those who wait, and he’d wait an eternity if that meant he could spend his life with her. She’d made the first move then, and he’d correctly suspected she’d make the first move again. 

Last night the fantasy he’d been playing in his head for the past four years fantasizing about finally became real. The fact it was technically fraternizing on the job was just an added bonus. It hadn’t been exactly how he’d dreamed; he didn’t get to say all the sentiments on his mind, the lights were off, and he had to leave in fear in the middle of the night instead of waking up with her in his arms. But she had given him hope.

Come back to bed.

And less than 24 hours later, they were back in bed. Though sleeping was the last thing on either of their minds.

He’d always loved unwrapping presents. Ribbons, bright colored paper, the buttons of silk blouses - whatever it may be, as long as it came from Scully, always brought a smile to his face. 

“What?” she asked with a breathy smile. 

“I wasn’t able to see all the new freckles you had last night, it was too dark,” he stated with a grin.

She rolled her eyes and laughed at the enthusiasm in his voice. “Are you going to do that thing with your mouth again, because I think I have too many for that now,” she laughed.

“Is that a challenge?” he murmured before sucking on the bend of her neck. 

She was silent for a moment, shifting under him in an effort to rub against his appreciation for her. After a beat, she answered in a playful and lust filled tone, “Yes. It is.”

[kingliam-rys]

Hi, can I request #2 #10 and #49 from little one prompts for liam and mc? 🥰

Hi there, thanks for requesting!! I’ve been loving this prompt list, it gives me all the feels. I kept the three prompts separate, just for simplicity. They are bolded before each drabble, Hope you enjoy!!!

This is over 2k words, I’m so sorry. Also there is intentional spelling mistakes in Ellie’s dialogue, i attempted toddler talk..not sure if i’ll ever do that again

Prompts are from here (however I am not taking any more request from this list at the moment-currently working on #12, should be up sometime tomorrow night/Wednesday))

My Masterlist

Little One Prompts #2,10,49 (Liam x MC)

2.Shopping for nursery furniture for little one. (so I realized after I wrote this, it’s not necessarily shopping for furniture, but I feel like it came out better than what I could’ve written for that topic anyway so….I hope you enjoy it?)

“I’m not sure I like that. Owls freak me out” Riley admitted as she and Liam flipped through the suggested nursery themes. Liam laughed at her comment wondering its source “Owls freak you out?”

“Yeah, the giant eyes, and their heads can twist to look directly behind them. It’s creepy.”

Again a chuckle escaped him, “alright then, no owls. Cross that off the theme options” Riley continued sorting through the pages, noticing the other options as well, “Actually, take off any animal that can be found in a forest, no baby deer or bunnies or foxes.” She listed off, “ You know, take off all animal options off the table”

“What does that leave us with?” He asked, noticing that the theme suggestions were mostly animals. Riley contemplated, tiring her search of the suggested alternatives, she closed the binder with a thud, settling back into her seat.

“What about stars? The moon and stars, I feel like that’s more appropriate. “ She envisioned the picture of where she was going to lay her little prince or princess to sleep, or to feed, or to rock, starting form in her mind. “Maybe dark grey walls, with a focal point wall of midnight blue that’s filled with dotted stars. And we can decorate it with little moons”

Riley closed her eyes in contempt, continuing to imagine the little baby’s room, feeling the tiny kicks of the baby press against her side. She smiled, reflecting on how all the suns and moons and stars had to align for her to meet Liam that fateful night in New York, and they all brought her here, to this moment, married to the love of her life-with a baby arriving in a couple of months.

“It’s fitting that the heir be surrounded by stars, our meeting was fate, written in the stars, and our baby’s arrival a product of it.” She mulled.

Riley looked over to Liam, who smiled adoringly at his wife, knowing that whatever she suggested, he would be okay with. Feeling a connection to the theme, he never imagined he would be this lucky to marry the woman of his dreams, the love of his life, let alone having a family with her, yes it was definitely written in the stars. Whatever she wanted, he would make it happen. “Sounds perfect.”

With a theme in place, Liam had the palace decorators quickly complete the nursery, mostly painting and adding furniture pieces, figuring he and Riley could spend a few afternoons and evenings adding in the finishing touches of decorations and baby’s clothes and blankets that would be needed. Though Liam was kept in the design process for the little heir’s room, he wanted his wife to be surprised, so when it was finally completed he led her to the door, holding in anticipation and nerves to see if it lived up to his wife’s expectations.

As they stepped into the room, Riley’s hand immediately flew to cover her mouth, a gasp escaping, tears pricking her eyes, she loved everything about the room. The crib was against a wall that was painted a dark blue grey- stars sparkled all over. A mobile of the moon, and sun, and tiny stars, hung from the ceiling. There was a plush rocking chair situated in the corner, the blanket Liam had got for them laid across the back.

Taking a moment to admire the new room, Riley took a seat in the rocker, running a hand along the chair’s arm. Liam looked over expectantly, hoping her reaction was all positive. “Do-Do you like it?” He kneeled to her side placing a hand on her cheek, running his thumb under her eye to wipe a small tear.

“It’s absolutely perfect, Liam” she replied, sitting back in the rocking chair, rubbing her hand along the curve of her bump, feeling the baby’s movements follow along. She smirked as she took another quick glance around “And I think our little cub is going to love it as well.”  Taking his hand and placing it where the baby fluttered exuberantly against her skin.

10.Little one coming to sleep with you after having a bad dream.

The Palace felt cold, and hostile. Two weeks earlier, the royal family had been threatened by a potential terrorist attack. And while it was intervened before any serious damage could occur, it shook their peace of mind. Especially for the little four year old Princess. Ellie had not been able to sleep through most nights without waking up crying, while she didn’t understand the seriousness of the attack, she understood the worry that was in her parent’s expression, and the shift in her normal life routine.

Riley did not want to return to the palace so soon, but she and Liam knew that to present a united front, they would need to, avoiding it only hindering their rule. They returned to their personal quarter’s, but the atmosphere felt different, less homey and more tense.

Eleanor had a difficult time, the first couple of nights she had nightmares of the attempted attack, remembering the rushing of palace guards, as her mother’s arms were wrapped around her. While she didn’t wake up screaming, she woke in a fright, but returned to sleep, wrapping herself in her blanket, clutching her stuffed lion close.

A few nights later is when it was especially bad, Ellie dreamt of her mommy and daddy not being with her, she was alone and trying to hide, and while she couldn’t see the ‘bad guys’ she felt they were watching her. And she had no idea what to do, crying out in her sleep.

Liam woke to Eleanor’s scream and subsequent cries, immediately jumping out of bed, heading to his daughter’s room, fearing the pit in his stomach. Riley trailed behind, her 6 month pregnant belly slowing her down, but worry etched her face upon hearing Ellie’s distraught cries.

Liam had her in his arms, by the time Riley walked into the room. He was soothing a hand down her back, trying to calm his little princess down as her cries shook her tiny body. “Shhh, Ellie. It was just a bad dream.” He whispered, Riley was now sitting next to them, cradling a hand on her baby girl’s head.

Eleanor’s tears subsided as she calmed in her parent’s presence, knowing her nightmare was in fact over and her mommy and daddy were with her. “ I had  a scary drweam” Ellie whispered, glancing up at Liam and Riley through her long lashes.

“Do you want to tell us what happened?” Riley asked, even though she didn’t want Ellie to relive it, she wanted to comfort her daughter, the best way she could. “You n daddy were gone,” Ellie hiccupped, recounting the dream as best as a four year old could. “I was scared, don’t wleave me. pwease” She cried again, burying her face into Liam’s shoulder.  

Their heart’s broke at her words, knowing that her nightmare was the result of recent events. “Mommy and daddy won’t leave you, princess. We’ll always be with you” Liam promised, his own voice catching in his throat, truly feeling the weight of the crown at that moment. He cradled his daughter closer to him, whispering comforting words to her.

“Daddy, I don’t wanna sleep alone” Ellie mumbled, as she calmed again. Riley and Liam both agreeing as they brought her back to their room, placing her in the bed as they cocooned around her. Ellie was snuggled in Liam’s arms, as he stared across the pillows over to his wife, tears falling down Riley’s cheek as she thought back to all the struggles of the past couple of weeks.

49.Being unable to stay mad at little one when they give you puppy dog eyes.

Riley was tired. And stressed. And tired. She was seven months into her second pregnancy and while, in appearance, she was glowing, on the inside, she felt horrible. Everything hurt, and all she wanted to do was curl up on the couch, her husband and daughter at her side watching one of the Disney princess movie’s Ellie was obsessed with at the moment.

But instead, Riley was in heels, and a dress that felt too tight, and her daughter running around the mostly empty ballroom, having too much energy then a normal four year old should have two hours past her normal bedtime.

Maxwell had agreed to take Eleanor for a bit, try and get her to run off some energy. While he wasn’t Riley’s first choice to get her daughter calm down, everyone else seemed to be occupied and Riley was desperate.

Finishing up her conversations with the few guests who remained, Riley was joined by her husband, who had just finished a discussion with a European ambassador. “How are you feeling?” He asked, placing a hand on the curve of her bump, feeling the kicks of his baby boy.

“Tired, my feet ache, and little man has been kicking me all evening” Riley grumbled, leaning on Liam’s shoulder, trying to eliminate some of the pains she felt. “Now that the gala has come to a close, why don’t we grab Ellie and unwind with a movie in bed,” he suggested take a moment to glance around the room, in search of his energetic princess, “Where is our little princess?”

“Maxwell volunteered to run off some of her energy,” She mumbled, closing her eyes as Liam massaged his fingers into her back.

Eleanor’s laughter was heard before she was seen as their four year old came running at them, mud evident all over her white shoes and edging the bottom of her dress. “Ellie, what happened? Why are you covered in mud?” Riley fussed at her daughter’s messy appearance, feeling her normally cool façade melt away. Maxwell wasn’t far behind, sporting similar mud stains, Riley piecing it together.

“We jump over the floor, and we no want to land in lava, we land in mud!” The little girl exclaimed, jumping up and down. The plan to calm the little girl obviously had failed. “Lava?” Liam questioned looking from Ellie to Maxwell, hoping the adult responsible could further explain the mess.

“Well, the floor was lava, and we were trapped on top of the stone railings, and it was either land in the fiery pit, or mud. And we chose-” he trailed off, noticing the anger in Riley’s expression, mumbling a  sorry.

“Yea, mama. I sorry too,” Ellie chimed, bowing her head and looking up at her mother through her long lashes. Her baby blue’s filling in with a hint of remorse. Looking exactly like her father when he sought forgiveness from Riley. Riley knew she couldn’t be mad at the little girl, and since she resembled so much of her father, knew that her tension lifted as her eyes met her daughter’s. Something as trivial as a muddy toddler not keeping her mad,  “It’s okay Ellie, mommy’s not mad at you. How about you go with daddy and get cleaned up and ready for bed.” She soothed, taking her daughter into a tight embrace, before placing a kiss to her hair, wishing her off to bed.

Once Liam and Ellie left, Riley turned her attention back to Maxwell, “You!-I do not forgive.” She pointed, brows creased as Maxwell began to cower “What were you thinking, letting the crown princess run around in mud.”  

“I-I was just,  the floor was lava! We couldn’t touch it!” He defended. And as much as Riley wanted to argue his childish antics, she couldn’t and simply let out a laugh. “I can’t believe a grown man is using “the floor is lava” as an excuse. Just–next time, try not to end up splashing around in mud.” She laughed, walking off back to her family’s quarters, planning to spend the rest of the evening relaxed, and snuggled with her family.

[fingerguneds]

Stozier + going to the movies

im like one hundred percent sure this is not what you wanted and it turns out i dont know what a drabble is so it’s 4.4k long but um..yeah hope you like it 

Richie is tired. Okay, “tired” is actually a litotes — he’s fucking exhausted. Two weeks of pre-holiday classes — two weeks of deadlines, exams and final test, two weeks of nervous breakdowns and panic attacks for all students, and for him, probably the biggest procrastinator in their year, it was a hell ride. Sugar-high, coffee-flavoured satanic ritual.

But in the end, he finished up good, of course he did, because not only he’s a phenomenal fuckup of a person with a pathological time-management crisis, he’s also a smart fucking guy. And now, after his last French exam, it’s only fair that he goes home and tries to recover from his two weeks long sleep deficit, but…no.

The problem is, he promised Bill to accompany him to the new Star Wars film premiere, they got the tickets days ago, and even though Richie feels like throwing up and lying in his puke for a month and crying helplessly about of it, he promised. And it’s not just someone, it’s Bill, his best friend, and the newest part of Star Wars! And maybe, if three Red Bulls and two strawberry-flavoured Fantas didn’t make his heart stop, another large-sized slushie won’t either. His heart’s a strong one, it’s been to hell and back and he can show you vouchers — his student’s record book, thank you very much.

“You’re gonna have diabetes,” Eddie, Bill’s boyfriend, intones, when Richie arrives to their apartment to pick up Bill with a venti gingerbread latte in his right hand. “Feed him something or come up with a good eulogy,” he tells Bill, standing on tiptoe to leave a quick peck on his cheek.

“But your mom told me I shouldn’t ever force myself to eat—” Richie tries, but Bill pushes him out of the apartment with a sigh and closes the door, leaving Eddie’s pink-cheeked and ready-to-fight face behind it.

“Sure you’re not hungry?”

“It’s always like that when you miss a night of your beauty sleep,” Richie grimaces as they get into the elevator. “But we still can grab something to go.”

“McDonalds?”

Richie chuckles. As kids, they always went to McDonalds before films, hiding burgers and fries in their little hats in winter or bringing a special backpack “for illegal purposes only” in summer so the cinema boys wouldn’t kick them out, or worse — make them throw everything away. Now, no one cares whether you bring your own snacks or not, and they actually finish their food while driving, but there’s still a lingering touch of nostalgia to the whole process.

They’re barely on time, because Richie insisted on buying a goddamn slushie, although the line was fucking enormous, and yet they take their seats exactly one minute before upcoming film trailers begin. They’re both excited as hell, the slushie tastes amazing after the first proper meal he’s had since yesterday’s evening (yes, fries, nuggets and a Big Mac is a meal, unlike two Kit Kats and a bag of Doritos), and yet…nothing goes as planned.

After fifteen minutes of the film, Richie starts to zone the fuck out. The food is still warm in his belly, his winter scarf he didn’t pull off is soft and comfortable under his crooked neck, his eyelids feel like the only thing heavier than them is his head. He tries, he really does, he clears his glasses twice, he finishes his slushie with the largest gulps to wake up, he bites the insides of his cheeks, but it’s all pointless.

Thirty minutes into the film, and Richie’s gone.

***

“Richie! Richie, wuw-wake up! Oh my guh-god, I’m so suh-sorry, he—Richie!“

Bill sounds nervous. His childhood stutter comes back when he is. There’s a tug at Richie’s hand he barely registers.

“It’s okay,” someone chuckles curtly right above Richie’s ear. “At least his hair is clean.”

Um, rude.

Well, maybe in a different situation, Richie wouldn’t have thought that it’s rude. Like, it’s always nice when people have clean hair. Yes.

But.

He’s diabolically tired. His nerves are nothing but a strained, stiff line that is in an alarming danger to snap and slap you in the face, his mind is dangerously aggressive, meeting every single thing with feverish hostility, and Richie doesn’t even wonder if it’s him the voice is talking about. Even if it’s not, it’s still rude. He tries to remember when he last washed his hair — this morning, to not die before emerging from his flat. And his shampoo is nice too, it’s his mom’s shampoo, because he has her curls and—

“Richie!”

He straightens up abruptly, as if someone just kicked him in the balls, eyes still blurry, like a newborn bird’s.

“Ye.”

Someone starts laughing.

“He sounds like that vine.”

Richie blinks and turns to his left, still not quite conscious of the situation, yet quite aware that this someone’s laughing at him.

The first boy he sees sits one seat away from Richie, but he’s leaning forward, elbows on knees, face on the palms of his hands. He’s the one who said about the vine (Richie’s almost one hundred percent sure he knows which vine), and although Richie feels very attacked, he has to admit, the boy’s cute. He has dark skin, dark eyes, jawline to kill (and to die) for, and his smile is so wide and genuinely nice that it would be a shame to get mad at the owner.

Fuck this guy, he’s educated on vines and he’s hot. If it wasn’t for the “basically a ray of sunshine” part, Richie would fall.

And then there’s the asshole. He opens his mouth again.

“The peanut baby vine?” Richie looks at the mop of curly dark-blond hair, currently hiding the said asshole’s face as he turns to look at the first guy, and Richie’s offended diva is back. He may be a fuckup, but no one has a right to say anything about his hair with a voice like this. Even if it’s greasy as fuck, knotty and smells like used oil, like everyone’s hair smells after visiting places where kitchens are inside the main room and they just keep frying the shit out of food right in front of you; even then, no one can say shit about his hair, even—

“Yeah, that one,” the dark-skinned guy laughs again, and the curly asshole turns to face Richie.

No one can say shit about Richie’s hair, even if they own Cupid’s face. No joke, the guy—pardon, the motherfucker looks like an epitome of Cupid from the Psyche myth (not the fat winged baby). Richie quickly gets mad at himself for paying this much attention to the guy, but know your enemy, right? Know your enemy — their hair dark blond hair, like fields of rye in November, their plump pale lips and pale, although with a warm undertone, skin with an almost invisible constellation of freckles on the wings of his nose, their eyes and their dark, muddy colour Richie can’t really identify in the poor lighting of the auditorium. They’re bright with joy and fox-like curiosity, yet insolent and a little arrogant; daring.

Seriously, do people have to be this pretty? One is hot, like an Abercrombie model you see once and think of for days, the second one is not hot but really, really attractive, like someone who would make a fortune with this intense stare, peeling you off right there, where you’ve had a misfortune to capitulate.

“Rich,” he feels Bill’s large hand on his shoulder, still participating in this ugly staring competition with the curly one. “Guys, we’re sorry ag-again, huh-he’s really tired and doesn’t cuh-control himself.”

Richie blinks and frowns, ready to explode right into Bill’s face, but he cuts him off.

“Come on, Richie, we gotta go.”

They stand up, Richie taking his empty slurpie glass in one hand and looking at the guys again. Everything feels like a dream, his brain is too heavy, his legs disobey, his hands don’t feel like they belong to him.

“ ‘s alright, no big deal,” the first boy says again with the gentlest glimmer to his eyes and the loveliest smile, but Richie…Richie’s tired and bitter and…stupid.

“Yeah, you’re probably used to people leaving after waking up with you,” he says, looking directly into the curly one’s eyes. “Not you, you’re cool,” he winks quickly at his friend, as Bill starts swearing quietly and pulling Richie towards the door.

“Dude,” he says, when they both emerge from the cinema doors, a cig already in his fingers. He offers his pack to Richie without a word.

They smoke in silence, walking towards Richie’s car, and Richie is the one to break it.

“Did I really fall asleep on him?”

Bill chuckles and rolls his eyes.

“Yes you did. I didn’t notice until the lights were on.”

“Surprised he didn’t say anything,” Richie mutters, turning the car key.

“You’re too hard on the guy,” Bill huffs out, lips still wearing a lopsided grin. “He didn’t say anything—“

“Yes he did, I heard what he said about my hair, it’s—“

“Rich,” Bill sighs, but he’s not in the least bit mad or disapproving. Bill has always been a keeper of the wonderful gift of understanding. “He said you weren’t a bother and that he’s glad your hair’s not greasy. This is a perfectly normal thing to say, you’re just tired and tensed, and take things too personally. You just need a rest. C’mon, want me to drive you home? I’ll catch a bus to mine, no problem.”

***

The next four days Richie spends at home, sleeping and eating. Sleeping, eating, watching Netflix, thinking about the curly boy, sometimes. Actually, the memory of that day quickly turns into something embarrassing for Richie, something he knows that will make his cheeks grow hot and pink even years later. He was really, really rude to the guy, rude for nothing, and the worst part of the situation is — he can’t apologize. And! The worst-worst part is that the second-to-worst part is — the boy was absolutely gorg dot com. What an unfortunate turn of events: Richie can’t even suck his dick as an apology. Or just suck his dick. Whatever, he’d find a way to make it up to the boy, he’s talented with all parts of his body.

But it’s like falling in love with someone you saw on a train or in line at grocery store. Or maybe slightly worse, because Richie manage to fall fucking asleep on the guy, but still — a crush, doomed to picturesque longing and a quiet little death. It’s all about the masochistic nature of humankind — Richie concludes bitterly to himself, because although he’s a certificated Trashmouth, there’s a pathologically romanticistic heart under all these layers of shit.

No, seriously. He’s too much for everyone, even for himself. Especially for himself.

But enough with this shit, Richie decides the moment next, because his mood swings are the only thing wilder than his imagination. C’est la vie, you fuck up and you keep going until you fuck up again. Maybe there is a lesson he can learn, like to keep his mouth shut when he’s tired or, um, to do his homework in time and not traumatize himself…but it’s Richie. He never learns.

He falls asleep on his couch again, trying to decide what he wants to eat after waking up. God only knows why his actual last thought is so, what the curly boy smelled like?

***

Richie doesn’t remember the last time he’s been to a library. He’s always felt that a book should belong to him for being able to read it comfortably, but when you’re assigned to write a research on Andrei Tarkovskiy’s connection with slavic symbolism…not many books you can find in a regular American bookshop down the street.

The library is huge. The entrance is decorated with ionic columns and the door is so massive Richie barely manages to open it. Inside, it’s just as impressive, with the highest ceilings he’s ever seen and beautiful bookcases and tables of dark wood, situated under big thick windows. Richie undoes his scarf and immediately walks towards the service desk, knowing for sure there’s no way he’ll manage to find anything without help. His steps are loud in the monumental silence of this place.

“Uh, hi?” he says, as quietly as he can, and the boy behind the desk looks up at him and smiles politely.

“Good afternoon. How can I help you?”

“Well,” Richie chuckles, trying to hope for the best. “Do you happen to know any books related to slavic symbolism in Soviet cinematography, Andrei Tarkovskiy’s specifically?”

The boy arches his eyebrows. Richie smiles unsurely and gets ready to shrug it off and maybe convince his lecturer to change his topic of research.

“I’ll have to be honest, I have no idea how to help you, sir, but my colleague, who is currently in the section number eight is probably more educated on this matter.”

“Oh, okay,” Richie nods, considering to leave the place right now, but the boy’s softest, a little apologetic smile decide for him.

“It’s to the left, straight up until you see the number.”

“Thank you very much,” Richie tells him and turns towards the rows of bookcases.

12, 11, 10, 9…here it is.

The amount of books is almost frightening. The bookshelves are no less than two and a half meters tall, and Richie immediately imagines one of these things crashing epically right on his head. He licks his lips and takes a deep breath, then turns behind the number Eight.

Five or more bookcases, forming some kind of a wall. In a couple of steps from where Richie’s standing, leaning on one of them, there’s a ladder, and on the ladder, one and a half meters above the floor, there’s a boy with a couple of books in his hands. Richie, even in glasses, can’t really see his face, because the light doesn’t reach it.

“Hi,” the boy speaks up first, although Richie decides to wait until he’s finished. It’s like, dangerous. The whole construction looks…unsafe. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, hello, uh, the boy at the desk told me you could help me to find some resources on slavic symbolism in Andrei Tarkovskiy’s films?”

Richie doesn’t notice that he’s holding his breath. The boy’s hands don’t stop, they don’t even flinch, he surely keeps placing the books one by one to where they belong. They’re both silent for a long minute.

“I’m not sure I can help you to find something with both Andrei Tarkovskiy and slavic symbolism, but you could look through slavic symbolism analysis in Russian art in general and the language of Andrei Tarkovskiy’s separately.”

Motherfucker.

“Oh wow, that would actually—“

“Also on the Internet there are a lot of articles on what inspired Tarkovskiy’s methods, if I were you I’d check them out as well.”

The last two books stay tucked under his arm, and that is when he begins to climb down.

“God, lemme help you,” Richie’s heart trembles and starts beating faster at the sight of how tremendously dangerous the boy’s position looks, and he rushes towards the ladder.

“I’m alri—“ the boy turns his head to look at Richie, and when their eyes meet and the spark of recognition explodes between them, two things happen at once: first, Richie’s heart stops, and second, the boy falls down the ladder.

“Bloody fuck,” Richie breathes out, already on his knees beside the boy’s sprawled body. It’s him, of course it’s him, his curly hair, pale freckles on heart-shaped face, but now it’s all red, wearing a grimace of breathless pain. Richie’s so shocked he doesn’t know what to do. The boy turns to lay on his back and a hard moan escapes his lips.

“Oh God, oh fuck, what the—“

“Shut up,” the boy manages to say, chest trembling from the efforts to control his breath. “Shut up and call the—“

“Stan! Jesus, what happened!?”

The other boy is now here too, Richie sees him with the corner of his eye. He looks back though, quickly inspecting the boy’s—Stan’s body.

“What does it look like,” he mocks, cheeks darker than a pomegranate. If Richie wasn’t so terrified, he would appreciate this. Like, a lot. “Call an ambulance, quick, I think my collarbone is broken.”

“Oh my God,” Richie and the other boy mutter in unison, and Stan rolls his eyes.

“Well unfortunately, it’s not my fucking neck, so I’m kind of in pain right now and would really appreciate—“

“God, yes, sorry, yes.”

Richie too pulls out his phone, hands shaking, while Stan closes his eyes and tries to remain unmoving. There’s not much Richie can do, but it’s still something. The other boy’s panicked voice is explaining something in the background. Every ring lasts forever, and when Eddie finally picks the phone, Richie’s sure he almost had a heart attack. Twice.

“Eds? Hi, listen, what do I do if someone breaks their collarbone?”

He accidentally catches Stan’s unreadable stare and looks away, heart already on fire.

“What? Richie, what the fuck, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, I’m just—“

“Did anyone break their collarbone?”

“Well it looks like this, yeah.”

“Did you call—“

“Yeah, but—“

“Okay, fuck, okay, most importantly, do not try to move the body until they arrive, it’s really fucking important, got it? Let them stay where they are, immobilize the shoulders completely, also—do you have ice there?”

“Do you—“ Richie turns to the other boy, but he’s still on the phone, so he has to ask Stan. “Do you have ice?”

Stan blinks, and for the first time, Richie notices that he’s balancing his head above the floor. It’s clear lowering it hurts him. Oh, and his pride is too hard-to-swallow to ask for help. It’s hot.

“Yes, I think we do.”

“Yeah, we do,” Richie repeats and moves awkwardly on his knees to help Stan keep his head up. Stan freezes for a second, but then blinks and relaxes into Richie’s hands.

“Use it for pain, you can give them an ibuprofen too, but don’t let them move, Richie, okay!? Now tell me what the fuck—“

“Later, Eds, thanks a lot, bye,” Richie breaths out as fast as he can and focuses on Stan.

Even upside down, he looks pretty.

Fuck.

Richie, shut the hell up, you’ll think about this later, you sick fuck.

Stan looks him in the eye, and Richie sees that those irises are brown. They’re bright with accidental tears, framed with dark thick lashes, and the colour is not exactly brown, more like greenish-brown, like pine tree needles three weeks after Christmas.

“You shouldn’t move,” Richie says, back to reality. “You shouldn’t move, we need ice and you’re allowed to take an ibuprofen.”

“They’re gonna be here in ten minutes,” the other boy finally joins them, face as red as Stan’s. Actually, even worse: red is his neck and probably his shoulders are too.

“Could you bring me some ice? And a glass of water with an ibuprofen?” Stan asks him, and Richie’s finally calmed down enough to notice how calm Stan is, although the situation is…literally the craziest he’s ever been in. He moves his leg to support his arm holding Stan’s head. Fuck, those curls are soft. Not like Richie’s, Richie’s are soft too, but Stan’s are in thicker rings, curling tenderly around Richie’s pale fingers, licking the boy’s unhealthily pale sweaty forehead.

“Like what you see?” Richie hears Stan’s voice and meets his intense gaze again. There is this daring glimmer to his eyes again, and Richie willingly accepts it.

“Dude, stop,” he chuckles weakly, licking his lips. “ You know I’m already in love.”

Despite their position, Stan huffs, but then his face skews of pain.

“Shh,” Richie winces and moves his fingers in an instinctive soothing motion. “You’re gonna be fine soon.”

“It’s not that bad, just a collarbone. Happens to people all the time.”

“At least it didn’t break through your skin,” Richie blurts out and regrets it immediately, cheeks flaming up.

But then, Stan chuckles. There’s a dimple in one of his cheeks, the left one. Richie’s almost sure his eyes are fully heart-shaped by now.

“Here,” the other librarian boy rushes up to them with what looks like a towel, stuffed with ice cubes, and a glass of water.

He puts a pill in Stan’s lips and lets him drink carefully, then passes Richie the towel.

“Tell me where,” Richie murmurs, and despite how fucked up the situation actually is, this feels oddly intimate. He lowers the towel and feels how more tensed Stan grows.

“A bit—yeah,” he breathes out, and Richie presses down a little.

“Told you you should’ve taken a lunch break,” the librarian guy mumbles softly, and for a moment Richie thinks he’s gonna cry.

Stan rolls his eyes. Richie keeps holding. Somewhere near the door bursts open.

***

“This shit’s surreal,” Bill says after a long pause, when Richie calls him from the hospital an hour later. “I don’t believe this.”

“Fair enough,” Richie nods to himself, inspecting his shoes. “And yet.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Probably something stupid,” Richie hears Eddie’s voice and grins.

“You’re absolutely correct, Edward.”

“You scared the shit out of me,” comes an answer, and Richie thanks him once again for helping out.

“Trust me, I was ten times worse.”

“It’s actually unbelievable,” Bill says again, and Richie knows the face he’s probably wearing at the moment: blue eyes wide, eyebrows furrowed in the slightest bit, one corner of his lips crooked a little. “If it’s not fate, I don’t know what it is.”

“Ooooow,” Richie and Eddie fondly mock him in unison, and Richie knows for sure someone’s gonna get some when he hangs up. “Don’t get too emotional, Big Bill, Edster likes it rough, just like his mom.”

“Oh for fuck’s—“ Eddie’s scandalized howl is the last thing he hears before the line goes silent, and he’s alone again, with the most shit-eating smirk on his face.

The other librarian boy — Ben, he learned when the ambulance arrived — stayed at the library, and Richie was secretly happy to accompany Stan to the hospital alone, although he insisted a couple of times that Richie doesn’t need to.

Richie’s stomach growls and he needs a fag asap, but there’s no way he’s missing Stan. God only knows when he’s at the library again, and Richie needs…Richie needs to talk.

And when Stan, with a sling supporting his hand, walks out of the emergency room, Richie stands up, not being able to help a smile forming on his face.

“Don’t you have other things to do?” Stan asks him, but he’s not annoyed. He looks tired and disheveled, but still calm, and Richie notices that they’re both the same height. Stan’s all legs though, all legs and curls.

“You’re the most important one on the list,” Richie answers automatically, and Stan purses his lips, clearly unimpressed. His eyes glimmer brighter, though. “Hungry?”

Stan graciously arches his dark eyebrow.

“Are you—“ he cuts himself off, clearly thinking it’s a bad idea, but when Richie keeps waiting (politely, although he’s nervous as fuck, because hello to today’s third heart attack), he licks his lips and starts again. “Are you trying to ask me out?”

“Maybe?” thank God his voice sounds much, much more confident than he, in fact, is.

Richie probably needs to get comfortable with Stan needing a moment of silence to think good. Unlike other people that start…to ramble.

“Sorry, I’m just used to people leaving after waking up with me.”

Richie’s jaw hits the floor harder than that meteor hit the Earth and fucked up the dinosaurs. Go off, Stan the Man, go the fuck off.

And he doesn’t even look proud of himself. It’s as casual for him as it is for Richie to tell your dad a mom joke. For Heaven’s sake, who is this guy?

“Well,” Richie squeaks, feeling that his body is on again, as if something blew his fuse for a moment. “It’s not happening any time soon, pretty boy,” he points at Stan’s sling, “so I thought maybe I could try something different.”

“Like what?” he’s smiling now. Legit.

“A dinner? A couple of them? Maybe films? Although I’ll have to be careful with this one, your shoulders are fragile now.”

Stan’s smile becomes even wider as Richie continues to ramble, and although it’s not the brightest and sunniest smile he’s ever seen, it sure feels like the most precious one. It feels like a reward.

It still feels like the most precious reward, weeks later, when they finally wake up together and Richie only leaves to pee and to make them a coffee. Months later, when Richie lets his hand slide down Stan’s shoulder and feels the slightest crook to his collarbone with the tips of his fingers. Years later, after some shitty horror film about some monster clown who eats kids, when he proposes in that empty cinema auditorium, in those exact seats.

Stan still needs a minute to think good, but his burning, incandescent smile says everything Richie needs to know.