#ill continue this drabble later if it does well

[smowyashe]

Logan had just finished dinner, walking outside to take out the trash. Hesh was upstairs probably gaming or talking to his new girlfriend (or was it a boyfriend this time?).

Just as he turns to walk back inside, a low growling catches Logan's sharp ears. It wasn't unlike that of a dog's, but not quite wolf either.

Quick reflexes kick in and Logan finds himself holding out a broom, his eyes sweeping the area. Riley was out with Elias, no one else around here had dogs. So what...?

Another growl cuts through the November night and Logan tenses, cool air catching in his throat.

Shadows morph into fur and a rush of wind is all Logan feels before the... well whatever that was, disappeared.

After a few more seconds to determine that it was well and truly gone, Logan walks back inside shaking his head.

Hesh sits on the kitchen counter eating cereal from the box. An eyebrow raise from Logan has Hesh rolling his eyes.

"Dude, I got hungry," is the only explanation he provides.

The door opens and Riley runs in, jumping up to greet Hesh first and then Logan.

The rest of the night flies by and Logan almost forgets about the thing outside.

Almost.

[saursoob]

bad game (aim) - nishimura riki

paring: niki x reader // drabble + smau // word count: 626

you simply couldn’t believe it. some fucking friends you had. what kind of friends invites you to your favorite arcade just to ditch you for some upperclassman they just met there?

whatever there’s nothing i can do anyways, im suck in an arcade with no ride. i don’t think even playing games with make me feel better.

still, you went to play a few games of basketball but couldn’t help get distracted by a black haired boy poorly playing your favorite shooting game, you decid not to do anything since its none of your business and you were already having a shitty evening.

later you play a claw machine but end up continuously losing but seeing the boy continuously lose as well made you smile and you couldn’t help but say something. i mean, you know you said you wouldn’t but he really was butchering the game, its just simply helping. right? its not like your doing this because he’s also somewhat attractive or something?- shaking off your thoughts you get up from the from the claw machine and make way to him.

“your aim is pretty bad” you say teasing the boy thats trying his hardest but failing to concentrate on his game “i can help you? not to brag but im pretty good at this game.”

he looks back at you for a moment, nodding while trying to focus on both the game and you at the same time. “yeah go ahead” he says putting his arm out in attempt to pass you the toy gun from his hand.

you shake your head “theres no need for that just put your gun up”

he looks back at you confused for a moment but does as he’s told. putting his gun up and aligning it to his targets once again.

you stand next to him holding his gun along with him, carefully aligning it so its better.

you and the the boy were so close you were sure he could hear your breathing. you were also hoping he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating in this moment. disregarding all this you continue being close, not backing away simply looking at him for a moment, admiring his features. that was until the buzzing sound of *you lose* from the game started going off. distracted the both of you were had forgotten about the zombies you had to kill.

backing away, clearing his throat awkwardly from the whole situation that just occurred. niki began speaking, “uhm y-yeah it looks great uhm- but can you help me a bit more? i don’t think i have the hang of it just yet. theres still another round?”

you chuckle to what he was implying “yeah sure” going back to your original placement but this time holding the boys hand to hold the gun simultaneously is making your stomach flip. the game countdown starts 3,2,1 still you manage to perfectly place the gun, go! shooting its targets gracefully.

you back away this time to look at the boy face to face introducing yourself, “im y/n by the way” offering a hand out for a handshake.

niki chuckles a bit at your formality, shaking your hand back “im niki, you’re really good. you should give me lessons sometime.”

you think about it for a moment but theres no way he’s getting a date from you this easily so you being you, decide to milk it. “i dont know… ill make you an offer though?”

niki reacts with a downturn smile, “mm, that being?”

“you have to get me that minion plush” you say pointing to the claw machine behind him that you were previously struggling with.

niki smirks raising an eyebrow “of course, i can do that easy. just watch.”

- smau under cut!

[hopelessromantic5]

Another Merthur drabble, this one a tad happier.

It had been an innocent touch. One that Merlin, for all his worries, thought he had gotten away with.

Honestly, it wasn’t even a thought, it was an instinct.

Arthur was preparing to step out of their tent and take on four men at once, ‘a show of strength’ Uther said. This was ‘The Tournaments to end All Tournaments’.

Merlin thought it was stupid and reckless. Especially for a man, a King no less, to voluntarily throw his own son into the mix. But that was Uther, he supposed.

Still, it worried Merlin. This wouldn’t be the first time a foe disguised himself as a knight to attempt the murder of his Prince.

That won’t be happening, as far as Merlin is concerned. Over his dead body.

Arthur watches him now, as he buckles the last straps in his armor. Merlin only looking up to meet sparkling blue eyes as he hands over the Prince’s sword. Merlin knows this will not be the sword he wields, once and forever. No, that sword was lying safely at the bottom of a lake, with Freya. At least, he felt some relief in that knowing.

Still it hurt Merlin’s heart to think he could not gift it to Arthur now, when he needs its strength the most.

“What’s wrong? Not worried are you?”

Merlin snaps back into himself. “I’m only worried about the dents I’ll have to bang out of this armor later.” The raven boy rolls his eyes, continuing the show they put on. Sometimes for their own amusement, sometimes to stay afloat in a sea of hopelessness.

“It won’t take me long.” The prince replies haughtily before turning back to Merlin. “I’ll try to keep your precious metal in perfect condition.”

Merlin knows he meants something else. He knows it is an unspoken promise to come back to this tent, no matter what.

“Let me just double check-“

“Merlin.” Arthur sounds exasperated but Merlin hears the fondness hiding just behind it.

“It’s just a double check, to make sure it all in place.” Merlin placates, stepping forward once more to look over the links and plates and layers that would be keeping his future from harm. Forgive him for wanting to be sure.

He ran his hands along the front, checking each crevice for any unprotected skin or limbs. He ran his hands down the length of Arthur’s arms. His right, protected by the same plates as his chest, his sword arm. His left remained just chain and cloth. Flexibility needed for the shield. Not that he expects Arthur to keep the shield in his hand for longer than two seconds anyway.

The horns blares announcing that the next bout will begin momentarily, Merlin realizes hurriedly ducking down, checking all the straps, not too tight, not too loose.

“Alright. You’re ready.” Merlin says, not fully feeling it.

Without thinking, he brings both hands up to cradle Arthur’s face, for just a moment. He feels soft skin, a sharp jawline for only a heartbeat, breifly meeting ocean eyes, before shoving Arthur out of the tent flaps and hoping that he didn’t get killed or maimed.

Merlin doesn't realize what exactly he has done, until two days later.

Of course, Arthur is victorious, despite Merlin’s worries about Sir Theron having ill intentions.

Therefore, the celebratory feast is in his honor.

Merlin may complain and berate Arthur about his head getting too big, but in reality, there is no one else in the kingdom that deserves the honor more than the Prince. He does more work in the castle, for the citizens, and just in general, than Uther has ever done in his life. Arthur isn't yet twenty one. He is Head Knight, he trains squires and deals with grain reports to ensure they are 'done properly'. He never turns away a citizen that comes to him for help, and he will always stand up for the innocent, even if it means his own punishment.

It's a lot to put on any one man, so yeah, Merlin would say he deserves a feast. At the very least. Merlin doesn't even make any jokes about Arthur getting round at the waist, both of them knowing well that the Prince is in excellent shape.

Merlin stands behind Arthur, attending him, as he always does. And subtly listening in on he and Morgana's whispers about their guests.

It was a single second between Merlin looking toward the rest of the room filled with people, and Sir Theron standing from his place, quick as lightening, and sending a dagger sailing through the air towards Arthur's head.

Oh gods, not this again. Merlin thinks. Just before his instincts can kick in and wordlessly move the knife three inches to the left in midair, something… strange happens.

The dagger makes it about two feet from the Prince before completely disolving into…sand? Merlin wouldn't have beleived it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

It wasn't he that did this. At least…he didn't think so… Oh no.

Oh no oh no ohnoohnoohno. It's all that he can think as everyone in the room stands frozen, apart from the knights of camelot that jump to grab Sir Theron and throw him in the dungeons.

Even Theron himself doesn't fight it, too stunned at the fate of his terribly thought out murder scheme.

"Father, may I… be exused?"

Uther is almost in a trance looking down at the pile of sand on the high table. "Of course. Go. Rest. You did well today."

Merlin could almost scoff. The man doesn't even look his son in the eye whilst giving him the barest amount of affection that any human could possibly manage. Arthur has almost been hurt or killed more than once because of these stupid tournaments, and all Uther can say is 'You did well."

Merlin doesn't know his father, but he surely must be better than Uther could ever attempt.

Arthur makes his way out of the Great Hall, sending Merlin a look that conveys the Prince wants him to follow.

He does. Reluctantly.

Oh gods. What does he know? What is Arthur going to do? Will Merlin be dead by sunrise? Surely not…right?

They finally, painfully find themselves in Arthur's chambers and it is deadly quiet. Only the night's summer breeze entering through the open window.

Arthur turns to him, and immidiately, with one look, Merlin knows. Merlin knows that he knows. The panic starts to set in and it must show because Arthur's face softens, infentesimely.

"Merlin." He says quietly. As if berating his magical manservant for not knowing that he wouldn't kill him on the spot if he found out.

Merlin can only helplessly shrug in response as a single tear slides down his face, expression unchanging. He might not be able to stop himself from crying but he would not sob. He would not lose himself that way, not in front of Arthur.

Arthur approaches slowly. While Merlin knows that he won't harm him, he appreciates the gesture.

"I assume that wasn't you, just now." The Prince says.

Merlin gasps inaudibly.

Arthur continues, as if he hadn't heard. "I mean it was you, but it wasn't. Not just now."

Merlin slowly nods. "I don't really know what that," he gestures towards the door, the outside world, "was. But I have a…hunch." The warlock looks down at his own feet, deeply ashamed.

"So do I." Merlin's head lifts at Arthur's words and finds him smiling. Like he knows something that Merlin doesn't. Then, he takes another slow step. "Do you remember a few days ago, just before my first round of the tournament, you were looking my armor over…"

Merlin hides his flushing face behind his hands, hoping to be swallowed up by the ground. "Yes. I remember." He whispers and then inwardly groans at how emotional and damning his words were.

"Well," The smug prat was still smiling, almost laughing to himself. "When you touched me, I saw your eyes flicker just for second. I'd have missed it if I wasn't already looking. You seemed not to have noticed. But I defintitely felt…a veil go over me. Like something was now standing between me and any threat I could face." Arthur stood a foot away, not looking away from Merlin for a second since they entered the room, his manservant was getting increasingly intimidated and red.

"But…" he thought for a moment. "The tournament, how did their swords not…"

"I don't beleive they ever got close enough."

Merlin rolls his eyes, out of habit. "Yeah, yeah, you're the greatest warrior there ever was," He scoffs. "I'm telling you, you don't watch that ego, it'll outweigh you. And that's really saying something."

Merlin nearly winces after he finishes speaking but jumps when Arthur starts laughing and shaking his head. "Gods, what am I going to do with you, Merlin? You insult me, you unintentionally save my life with magic in front of the king, and you seem to give no thought for your own head attatched to your shoulders." He sighs an exasperated sigh. Suddenly he's closing the distance, reaching out his hand's to cradle Merlin's face but, unlike him, Arthur does not pull away. "Promise me that you will be careful." He whispers, staring directly into Merlin's soul, magic and all.

"I will. But I cannot promise I won't use it, if it saves your life, even if I have to-"

A fire lights behind Arthur's eyes. "What? Even if you have to what? Burn for it?"

Merlin nods, strong hands still holding him in place.

"I'm not worth that, Merlin. It is not an equal trade, my life for yours. Not even close." The Prince's ire was turning to anguish. He now knew exactly how exposed and in danger Merlin was, just for existing.

"Don't ever say that to me." Merlin says this quietly, in their bubble, but his voice holds the conviction of a king, a god. "I would die a thousand times if it meant you survived. A world without you in it is not a world I can tolerate." Merlin goes to move away but Arthur etertwines his hands behind the raven boy's neck, holding him there.

"What about my quality of life, Merlin? Don't I get a say?" Their foreheads press together, they breathe each other's air.

"No. In fact, consider every decision you'll ever need to make, already made for you."

Arthur has to laugh. Partially because he knows Merlin is right. Maybe he's always known.

[lanaturnergetup]

more about ice cream

for @thethreebroomsticksfic weasleyweek (#WEASLEYWEEK), day 5: fred & george weasley

a george weasley (and verity!) drabble, continuing on from @hinnyfied's excellent fic, which you can read here <3

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

George is having a terrible, no good, very bad day. You’d think working in a joke shop is nothing but laughs, but there’s a surprising amount of paperwork involved. About the same amount of paperwork as the errant thoughts about Fred that keep popping into his mind. It’s one of those days. 

 Paperwork and grief: two things that (in George’s experience) tend to dampen the laughs at the joke shop.

Especially when Verity, who usually does the paperwork, has done nothing today but glower at him. Or she’s done her version of glowering: frowning and manning the till without taking on paperwork duty. Which, from Verity, is a sign that something’s deeply wrong. 

Finally, at ten past twelve in the afternoon, George says, “Get on with it.” 

“I’m sorry?” Verity asks.

“Whatever’s bothering you. Spit it out.” 

Verity, ever the professional, seems to take a moment to decide whether she wants to say anything or not.

George wonders what’s weighing her down. It could be something as small as missing the bus (Verity despises a lack of punctuality, and despises it even more when it comes from her) or something as big as a family member being ill. Both would result in the same slight frown on her face. Finally, she says, “I broke up with Gertrude.” 

George racks his mind, which brings forth an image of a blond woman raising her eyebrows at him and looking vaguely angry. Right. Gertrude. He’d never liked her much when Verity brought her around. She was maybe his least favourite of Verity’s girlfriends. And, given the sort she’s brought around to the shop, that’s saying something. “And when you say you broke up with her…” 

Verity’s mouth twitches. “I mean… she broke up with me. Or, rather… She ended things with me in a sushi restaurant, and I couldn’t enjoy my food in peace.” 

“She ruined the sanctity of your sushi?” George says, incredulous. “That’s it. This calls for ice cream. Let’s go.” 

“Go where, Mr Weasley?” Verity says. 

“Fortescue’s, of course.” 

“If we both go, there’ll be no one manning the shop,” Verity points out.

George fixes his gaze upon Verity, thoroughly unimpressed. “Verity. I appreciate your work ethic, but it’s a weekday afternoon. No one’ll say anything if we close for lunch, and this situation calls for ice cream. Let’s go.” 

Before she can protest, he’s managed to sweep her away and out of the shop. (She gets the closed for now, check back in later for more mischief! sign up on the door with a flick of her wand right on time.) 

Working in a joke shop, surrounded by neverending work and the thoughts of his brother, can be exhausting. But some days there’s ice cream, so. There’s that. It will have to do, for now. 

And when they walk into Fortescue’s and see none other than Ron and Harry, in their Auror robes, holding ice cream cones which they’re licking with all the enthusiasm of Aurors slacking off their duties… well, George thinks, it definitely does something to perk the day up.

[emberswrites]

Have you ever thought of someday posting all of your Tumblr drabbles in a collection on ao3? they're always so lovely, I think that would be great

Anyway, here it goes: Realisation + Sai

Thanks for doing this, these little snippets make my day!

This is going to sound very dumb but I actually didn't really think of doing that, I guess because I didn't think I'd be doing so many? But since I now have quite a few it's not a bad idea at all, anon. I think I will actually do that because it would be nice to have the writing in one place and easy to find. And thank you, glad you enjoy them!

Prompt Game - Bonus Ino appearance.

Sai is still learning how to understand the impossible combinations of words, expressions, body language, and gestures that make up the puzzle of everyday communication. He's been getting better with the help of his new friends and his new sensei.

Only sometimes, Kakashi is the puzzle and he's not always so helpful.

Today, Kakashi looks rather dour, even though Sasuke had sent word that he'd successfully helped a community in Ame defend from a crime ring and would be staying an extra few months to see to it's safety as they rebuilt leadership.

He should be thrilled, Ame continued to be a vulnerable region and any threats stamped out there not only made good political sense but would help the many disadvantaged who continue to live there.

Kakashi had merely sighed after he'd read the correspondence, muttered a soft good, that's good before turning back to the stack of papers on his desk. Sai had asked if Kakashi needed anything, only for him to look up and give Sai that special kind of smile, the one that looked a little too much like his own had, empty.

"No thank you, Sai. That will be all."

He relays this odd encounter to Ino over lunch and she hums.

"Well, maybe he's just tired."

"He's always tired."

"Ugh, so true. He's too handsome to be working so hard," she says wistfully.

Sai isn't sure what an aesthetically pleasing face has to do with work ethic or load, but he makes a note to ask about this later. He can only handle so much examination of the human condition at once.

"Do you think it's Sasuke that upset him? Being reminded of his charge having to make up for his ills and failings, unlike Naruto and Sakura?"

This would make Sai feel rather sad, he thinks. Kakashi-sensei is a good man and shouldn't have to feel so responsible, to the point he can't even be happy at good news.

"Hm?" Ino begins to shake her head before pausing, "No, why would hearing from- wait. Oh you may be on to something Sai! Well done."

"What is it?"

"Well, he misses him obviously," she shrugs, "You know, when someone you care about isn't around and you want to see them."

Sai does know this ache. He resolves to be more helpful, maybe that would help take Kakashi's mind off his incomplete team. He decides to stop by the Tower earlier the next day to check in and be of good use to his sensei, only when he gets there he senses another chakra presence.

He instinctually minimizes his own signature, although he is not alone in the hallway as other shinobi move about beginning or ending their work days. He has rather good hearing and it isn't hard for him to pick up on the conversation inside as he waits.

"You didn't have to come back," Kakashi is saying, "I wouldn't have said it if I thought you'd come back because of it."

"I know-"

Sasuke? Sai blinks, Sasuke is meant to be in Ame for months.

"-but I wanted to. I miss you, too, you know. It's not...this isn't easy for me. But I am compelled to do it all the same. It isn't about...making up for anything, I just think I should be using this power where it's needed."

Ah, so Ino had been right - Kakashi had been sad at Sasuke being away again. But then, he was always away. Even Naruto had gotten used to it by now.

"I know, and I adore you for it. I just - selfishly - wish it didn't take you away from us so much. There will never be a shortage of strife or calamity...your life can't be just attending to the world's ills."

"Hm. And you?"

"What about me?"

"Shikamaru told me you barely go home."

"What would I do at home?"

There is a silence after this. A long silence, Sai notes. It's broken by a breathy laugh, Sasuke's by the sound of it.

"There's your agenda for today. Tell Shikamaru you're taking the day off, I'll have you back here and energized by tomorrow morning, promise."

"That soon?"

"Until next time."

"Next time, you stay longer than a day then."

"Deal."

Sai takes several steps back as the door swings open and the two walk out.

"Ah," Kakashi says, "You've been waiting, sorry Sai. You can check in with Shikamaru when he's in soon. Shouldn't be long, will you tell him I'm cashing in one of those vacation days Shizune's always on about?"

"Oh, yes," he says, smiling lightly, "What will you do, sensei?"

"Don't answer that," Kakashi says when Sasuke looks like he's about to, "We'll be at home, if the sky is falling."

Sai watches them walk away, puzzled. Home? Who's home? Sasuke doesn't have one here any longer, not a physical one anyway. Kakashi's home? Does Sasuke stay there when he's in town?

Are they holding hands?

Oh.

OH.

Yes, Sai will definitely need to note this one down in his book.

[luvsupa]

hii supa! so basically im new to your account, i literally just found it last night but i love the little sukuna drabble and prince!gojo!! i have a question. basically ive been on tumblr since last year October side and i still dont know much about it, but i saw your account doesnt work anymore because of something to do with your email?? something similar happened to me, currently im on my main account. i was on my side blog where i usually write on (@cherryycheoll) and i was texting a few people who didn't have ages in their bio because that blog is strictly 18+, all of a sudden my texts wouldnt send but i just brushed it off, 2 hours later i logged back on and it said i had to verify my email before i can continue texting people?? and for some reason my work isnt doing well, it usually does but idk if that as anything to do with it. 😭 also i cant get tumblr to send me a verification email?? I dont know if you had like the same problem but if you have any advice ill gladly accept it!! ♡

HII!!

so when I first made my account (@luvsupas which used to be my main) I created it through apple id and I didn’t realize it gives you a complete random email (+ no password) to use 😟😟 so the only way I could sign in was through face id , and when I tried to change the email it would send it to the random email which is not my email (idk if that makes sense 😔) so I basically realized I couldn’t change my password and email and I had to make a new account which is this one 🙁

and do you think your account maybe shadow banned? maybe the verification email is a way for your works to be shown (IM NOT TOO SUREE 🙁)

I also found a link so tumblr can resend a verification email to you (here) and if that doesn’t work I say you should contact them!

pls let me know if anything works! I hope your account goes well 🫶🏽🫶🏽

[strawwritesfic]

Aragorn x Female!DúnedainReader: Content

Summary: You could never tell him the truth or even admit it to yourself, but so long as you are near him, why should you need to?

Rating/Warnings/Tags: All (Set during Fellowship of the Ring but does not actually intersect with the events in-story; not Tenth Walker!Reader; exposition; does not explicitly ruin Aragorn/Arwen; not Anti-Arwen)

Challenge:  “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Content

Choosing to become a Ranger meant giving up certain creature comforts that others often took for granted. The sky became your roof, the hills your bed, and the rivers your drink. When you took up the profession some thirty-five years before, you had not felt yourself to be sacrificing much. You loved the outdoors, and wandering Middle Earth beat sitting around waiting for the return of the rightful king of Gondor any day.

But the passing years changed you as much as they changed the forests you traversed. There were nights on which you could not help but wish for a proper roof, a softer bed, or a more tasteful drink. 

One such night found you out of doors as always, leading your horse along soggy paths. The thunder rolled in endless waves above your head while the rain poured down in sheets rather than in droplets. The sodden grass and heavenly tumult silenced the sound of your horse’s hooves. So loud was the sound of the storm that you did not even attempt conversation with your traveling companion.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, did not share your desire for the comfort of an inn that evening. You had run into him entirely by chance three months prior on a serious errand of his own that had, much to your surprise, required an extra pair of hands. As you rarely had the opportunity to spend time with Men of your heritage, you tagged along with great enthusiasm. One errand led to another; now you felt yourself quite comfortably situated with him–at least until some future a job forced your inevitable separation.

Still, he never seemed inclined to stay in civilization longer than necessary. He asked his questions and left, frequently with you lingering outside the town to keep an eye out for any signs of being followed. As such, you were taken rather aback that night when you found Aragorn and his horse stopped in front of you, right in front of a large gate that led into a town. The two of them must have been stopped longer than you realized, because you had no time to ask what he was doing before a panel in the wood slid open and a pair of eyes appeared in its place.

“What is your errand in Bree?” asked the man to whom the eyes belonged.

“We are Rangers,” Aragorn answered. “We seek shelter at the inn.”

“Bit late to be out in this weather in’t? Even for Rangers.”

The panel slid shut once more. You thought that you had been rejected entrance into the town. It would not have been the first time. Aragorn was not terribly popular among those who did not know him. A moment later, however, the gates  opened. 

The man from earlier appeared in his entirety, carrying a lantern in one hand and peering into the dark beyond. He impatiently waved you both forward. “Well, come along, before you catch cold.”

“If there is cold to catch, we will already have caught it,” Aragorn replied. He was every bit as drenched as you were, with his hair flattened and stuck to face and his clothes equally stuck to his arms and legs. “But we thank you for your kind concern.”

Better to let him do the talking. You simply nodded to the guard as you passed with your horse, then followed Aragon in silence. It was only several minutes later–and after the two of you had gone much deeper down the vacant road through the town–that you gave voice to your concern:

“Why are we stopping? It is unlike you.”

“It will do no good for the horses to continue like this. Even if we do not fall ill, they might, and I dislike the idea of purchasing new mounts. These know our ways by now. A new pair might not be so easily trained.” 

All this he said with his eyes on the street ahead. When he stopped, he did so at the head of a path leading to a large building marked with a sign declaring it to be the Prancing Pony. At last, Aragorn focused his gaze upon your face and went on:

“If you will take the horses to the stable, I will get us a room.”

Having never visited Bree yourself, you acquiesced readily to his request of handling business matters himself. In the stables, you found a Hobbit, friendly and willing enough to house both horses once you explained the situation. You left your name so that he could find you for payment should Aragorn neglect it–not that he would–and walked the muddy road back up to the inn to arrive there not twenty minutes after having parted ways with your companion. 

Inside, you found him speaking with a plump, bald man you assumed to be the owner.

“Ah,” said the man upon your arrival. “This would be the woman, then?”

“Yes,” Aragorn said.

The man took your hand in both of his and shook vigorously. “Butterbur, Barliman Butterbur, if you please, madam,” Butterbur said as he released you, before promptly returning his attention to Aragorn. “I suppose you’ll be wanting supper and a hot fire.”

“The latter most definitely,” Aragorn said. “But not the supper. We have eaten on the road, and there is no need to rouse your kitchen staff at such an hour.”

Butterbur looked relieved at not having to expend more time and energy on Aragorn than necessary. Although the innkeeper’s words were polite, his body language indicated your friend’s presence unnerved him. Aragorn could have that effect on people. He knew how to handle them; it was one of the reasons you trusted him so implicitly. 

“I will have Nob prepare a room and a fire right away. Until then, you may rest in the parlor. There’s still a fire going there, and I doubt you’ll run into any other guests. Everyone else has long since retired,” said Butterbur.

Both of you murmured your thanks and moved down the hallway into another, better-lit room. You stood directly in front of the fire, close enough to see Aragorn’s face through the shifting shadows, but far enough away that touching him would have been difficult. Neither of you spoke for a very long time.

“We will leave as soon as the storm stops tomorrow,” he said finally, and stepped closer to you as he did. “Hopefully all signs of our prey will not be lost in the rain.”

“If you were so concerned with losing our ability to track him, why stop? It was not for the horses at all, was it?” you asked.

One corner of Aragorn’s mouth pulled upward. You could hardly believe it, and turned more fully toward him to get a better look.

“If you decided to take quarters because of me, I will be quite offended.”

“Then you’ll have to be offended,” he answered. “Though you may be comforted in that I did not lie when I claimed concern for the horses. They have not rested in as long as you have, and are equally deserving of doing so.”

“You do realize that I did not frequently stop even before I met you?”

“Of course.” Aragorn inclined his head. “You are unusual, [Name]. There are not very many women in the race of Man that would willingly take up the life of a Ranger, nor for so long.”

“I am not such a rarity as you believe.”

“Perhaps not.” He inclined his head once more, then allowed you an uncommon full smile. “I have been tired, too. Our mark is much more wily than I gave him credit for, and if we take sick as the kind gatekeeper expected, we will lose it longer than if we stayed on the road. We both will benefit from a rest. Please understand that I did not halt our course because I believed you incapable of continuing.”

You smiled back. Men like Butterbur did not have the opportunity of seeing Aragorn’s kindness as you did. He could be just as frightening with you if he chose, but underneath it all, you knew his demeanor was because of how deeply he cared-not just about you, but all of Middle Earth. When at last he returned to Gondor, he would wear his crown well.

“Are you happy now?” he asked.

“I am content,” you said. “Especially in that I have earned the respect of a man such as yourself.”

And you were: content out of doors just as you were content inside, content on the road and off. You had not expected how easy a journey could be made with company, even when you spent time in the company in silence–as both you and Aragorn did for another twenty minutes, until Nob came to lead you to your rooms and sweet, comfortable slumber.

[spaceyflowerswriting]

Please please DG/James Lee fluff with pregnant S/O??? 🥰

ready (james lee x reader)

details: fluffy drabble, gender neutral reader but written in 2nd pov, general canon au, you and james are married

summary: you tell james about your pregnancy.

a/n: ofc, thanks for requesting 💖!! decided to do a oneshot since there was no specification, hope thats okay !!

×

Nighttime had fallen.

Your husband finally arrived home from a busy day. You had been itching to tell him the news ever since you found out this morning, but felt the need to express it in person rather than through text or call.

Despite having all day to prepare, you hadn't really thought about how to let him know. Best to just be casual, right? It's not like you two hadn't spoken about the possibility of having and wanting kids before. Still, it was a nerve-wracking thing to think about and you stayed nervous until you took a seat next to him on a couch in the living room.

James seemed to sigh in relief at the sight of you. "Hey." He leaned in, lightly kissing your cheek before pulling back to continue finishing up his glass of water.

"Hey," you softly greeted back. Your eyes darted to the side for a moment, hands fidgety. "How was your day?"

"Same old. How about you?"

"...Exciting?" You laughed nervously when he raised a brow. You didn't really want to derail the conversation so you figured you'd just get to the point. "I've got good news, that's all."

His lips turned upwards in amusement. "I'm interested in hearing it."

"Okay, well." Clearing your throat, you let him set his glass down and then continued, "I'm pregnant."

"Oh, that's nice." His quick, casual response left you baffled. Sure, you expected him to take the news well, and yes, this was a positive response, but not enough to relieve you of your current nervousness. Nonetheless, you smiled while James paused for a moment. Then, his calm expression shifted into one of glee. "We're going to be parents, huh?"

The realization of his new reality seemed to properly settle in and his words truly made the reality settle in for you as well.

"Yup," you chuckled.

Honestly, he wasn't surprised thanks to past conversations, so he expected this to come sooner or later. To say he felt unprepared wasn't right, but he definitely wasn't prepared either. Still, he knew he would be okay as long as he had you and he hoped you would feel the same.

"Come here, love." You blinked at him in curiosity and scooted closer to him. His arms gently pulled you in before wrapping around your waist and momentarily picking you up to set you in his lap.

"J-James!" you stammered, your back bumping against his chest, "You could've just asked me to move..."

"Nope, get used to this," he said in reply, resting his chin on your shoulder as his arms wrapped around your waist again.

"Huh?"

He smiled, a hint of mischievousness in it. "I'm going to treat you with extra care for the next 9 months."

You would've felt touched if not for what he just did. "I believe you, but manhandling me to express that is kind of contradictory."

Your husband laughed softly before leaning his head into yours. "I mean it, though. Breakfast in bed, massages, catering to all your needs... you'll be my only priority."

To say warmth didn't enter your cheeks at his sweet words would be a lie. "What about your job though?"

"Hm? Isn't it obvious? I'll just take a year-long hiatus."

"Are you sure that'll be okay??" You gave him a worried look but he just continued to smile.

"It's not a problem for me. If it does bother anyone, they can cry about it for all I care."

You scoffed, but not with ill-intent. "How do you even still have your job with that kind of attitude?"

"Talent, perhaps," he teased as his soft lips pressed against your nape. "Now, no more worrying, stress is bad for the baby."

After a playful roll of your eyes, you started asking him more serious questions about how to best prepare for the upcoming months. Naturally, he responded back with genuine care in his words, and by the end of the night, you felt at peace. Confident, too.

The road of parenthood was a bumpy one, but like James had felt earlier, you also knew things would turn out just fine as long as he was by your side.

[narumi-gens]

Okay but would Naoya have a secret breeding kink when blue ball queen was dirty talking him about “filling her up” or would he just be infuriated 👁 👄 👁

note: even a broken computer isn't enough to keep me from digging in the trash 😣 warnings: smut, impreg kink, misogyny (naoya, duh) words: 1.7k (because I’m the trash queen) related drabbles

As Naoya watches you underneath him, practically folded in half from the way he's pushing your knees to your chest with his hands on the backs of your thighs, he finds himself angrier than usual.

But for once, he can't blame it on you despite how much he wants to. He can't blame it on your disrespectful mouth that never shuts up or your inability to recognize him as your better.

No, he's angry at himself. Because instead of focusing on the way your tits bounce with every brutal thrust or how your fingers are furiously rubbing at your swollen clit or the string of moans escaping you, all he can pay attention to is your stomach.

Or more precisely, all he can pay attention to is the thought of what it would look like if he didn't pull out like he usually does.

The last thing he wants is for you to end up pregnant with his kid. He doesn't need any bastard kids running around, especially not ones that would tie him to you for the rest of his life.

But the thought pumping you so full of his cum that your pussy is overflowing is too tempting for him to ignore. He imagines your stomach swelling, your tits getting big, your body changing like nature intended because of him. 

In spite of himself, he finds his hips pounding into your ass even harder as his grip on your thighs tightens.

He wants to be the one to show you that all you're good for besides fucking is getting pregnant and having kids. He wants to force you to accept that you are truly the weaker sex by design. He’ll make you see that any notions you have about "self-worth" and "agency" are nothing more than misconceptions.

He’ll turn you from a foul-mouthed, ill-tempered, disrespectful jujutsu sorcerer into a wife and mother who bows her head when she talks to him and knows her place. 

The thought of breaking you in is so tantalizing that it almost has him coming on the spot.

"Gonna show ya," he pants, his eyes squeezing shut as his mind paints the image of you so fucking big with his kid on the backs of his eyelids. "Ya ain't good fer anything else."

"Shut up," you're quick to reply between moans, but it only urges him on. You won't be so mouthy when you're taking care of his kids, when you're cleaning up after them, when you're breastfeeding them.

He lets out a low groan as he pictures how big your tits will get when they’re full of milk for his kid. It's enough to push him over the edge and before he knows what he's doing, his burying himself as deep as he can inside of you and coming with an almost animalistic growl.

His hips give a few jerks as he fills you with his cum, his hold now so tight on your thighs that finger-shaped bruises are a guarantee. His shoulders rise and fall rapidly as tries to catch his breath.

When he lets his cock slip from you, he can't tear his eyes away from the way his cum slowly leaks out of your messy cunt and trails down the crack of your ass. He continues to hold you in place for a few moments longer before collapsing onto his back beside you in bed with a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, already reflecting back on how that may have been the hardest he's ever come before. He pointedly ignores the fact that imagining you pregnant with his kid was the cause.

But while he's busy luxuriating in the aftermath of his orgasm, he's completely ignorant to the storm brewing beside him.

"You fucking came inside me!" you shout, sitting up in bed and hitting him hard in the face with the pillow that you had been using.

He recovers quickly and grabs it from you so that he can place it behind his own head with a smirk.

"Yeah? And?" he asks, his tone bored. He watches you from the corner of his eye as you angrily get out of bed and pick a discarded shirt up from the floor that you slip over your head.

"You're so fucking lucky I'm on the pill," you hiss as you storm off to the bathroom, loudly slamming the door shut behind you.

"Good! That means I don't gotta keep pulling outta ya anymore!" he yells after you with a sadistic grin. He wonders what you're more upset over -- that he came inside of you or that you didn't get to come.

You're only gone for a few minutes. He hears the toilet flushing and the water running before the door opens and you come back into the bedroom.

"You're fucking useless," you mutter and he closes his eyes as he stretches with a loud yawn. "I should've just gone with my vibrator. It doesn't have a mouth and doesn't make a mess. And it also makes me come every time."

"That ain't my job," he scoffs, a truly amused smirk playing at his lips at the idea that he's here for your pleasure.

He cracks an eye open when he hears you sliding opening the door to the balcony just off your bedroom. He catches just a glimpse of you holding something in your arms before you disappear onto the balcony for a few moments. When you return, your arms are empty.

He watches you as you pick up his boxer briefs before slinging them at his face. His reflexes are quick enough that catching them before they hit him is an easy feat.

"Get the fuck out," you say without sparing him a second glance on your way out of the bedroom and he chuckles to himself. Frustrating you is almost as gratifying as sex. 

His amusement persists even as he sits up and slides on his boxer briefs. But it doesn’t last much longer because he’s quick to see that your bedroom floor is now empty, his clothes nowhere in sight.

He glances at the sliding glass door that’s still open and his eyes widen when he suddenly remembers that you had carried something onto the balcony, only to come back without it. 

No. 

You couldn’t possibly have.

No.

In the blink of an eye and with the speed he’s known for, he’s on your balcony and tightly gripping onto the railing as he searches the mostly-empty street below. When he sees his shirt, kimono, and hakama scattered on the sidewalk, pure rage explodes in his gut.

“Fucking BITCH!” he yells with no care for your neighbors or the late hour. 

He’s moving so quickly that in the back of his mind he wonders if it’s the fastest he’s ever been. One moment he’s on your balcony and a millisecond later, he has you pinned on your back on the couch where you were sitting. 

He straddles your hips as he wraps a hand around your throat, his grip growing tighter when he sees how your eyes are dancing with mirth.

“You already up for another round?” you ask, a slight wheeze to your voice from how hard he’s squeezing your throat. His fury is so all-consuming that he doesn’t even notice the way his cock twitches.

“You fucking bitch,” he seethes. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

You raise an eyebrow at how his anger actually has his Kansai accent easing, like his ire is great enough that it’s actually able to override any pronunciations and verbal ticks.  

“Well, before you do that, you might wanna go get your clothes,” you point out, sounding almost bored. “The bars are getting ready to close and all it takes is one person who can’t hold their alcohol before they’re throwing it all up.”

He wants to argue with you, call you a bitch some more, and punish you for thinking you have the right to talk to him like this and treat him this way. But he  also knows you’re right. He needs to recover his clothing or else all he’ll have to wear on his way home is a tight pair of boxer briefs. 

“It shouldn’t be too hard to get them back for the world's fastest sorcerer," you mock with a rasp and he lets his hand close even tighter for a few moments, wanting you to think your life is truly in danger, before he releases you. 

He’s gone before you even know what’s happening and he’s already halfway through getting dressed by the time you make it out onto the balcony to watch him struggle. He ignores the heat of your gaze on him, as well as the stares of the few passersby who stumble upon the bizarre scene playing out in the middle of the street.

“Oi! Zen’in-sama!” you shout down to him as ties his hakama. He refuses to acknowledge that he’s heard you, although how could not have with how loud your voice carries. It’s enough to catch the attention of everyone down below. The mocking tone is gone with your next words, your voice as cold as ice. “I know my cunt’s so sweet that it’s hard to resist, but the next time you come inside of me without permission, I’ll cut your balls off so that you can’t make that mistake again.”

He looks up at your balcony, but you’re already gone. He growls to himself, seething that despite everything, you’ve still somehow managed to not only end up with the last word, but also to have humiliated him.

Now that he’s no longer buried ball deep inside of you, he can think with a clearer head and even through his anger, there’s an irritating note of relief that you’re on the pill.

It’s already bad enough that he can’t seem to give up your pussy, but that’s at least a habit he hopes to one day break. A kid would keep you in his life permanently. 

A chill runs down his spine at the idea, disgust curling in his stomach. He tries to ignore the hint of arousal that lurks just underneath it. 

[smoochkooks]

—chapter four: white lies

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

word count: 1.5k

summary: it came easy to you to lie. but with every untold truth, you were hurting more on the inside.

previous || next

one year and 6 months ago

April was exceptionally moody that year.  

Every day you woke up to either heavy rainfall or a beautiful, cloudless sky. Alternatively, it could also snow for a couple of hours just to have it all vanish once the sun reappeared. As much as you loved Spring, you hated the capricious weather with passion.  

It was a normal, peaceful, Saturday afternoon. Saturday meant no classes to attend, no work to do on the side. It was just you in your small, cozy apartment, tucked underneath the blanket and binge-watching Attack On Titan.  

You were never an anime enthusiast per se, but you happened to befriend a doe-eyed weeb all those years ago. Your current occupation was just a part of the aftermath. It wasn’t like Jungkook was obsessed, not at all. He was actually far from it. Now, at the tender age of twenty-three, his old hobby was like a relapse. His love for anime was coming in waves every once in a while, gradually transforming into a two-months-long hyperfixation and then, it was nothing. And the cicle continued.

He was currently in the stage of re-watching Attack On Titan, hence why you had been forced to finally give the damned anime a try as well. Hell, he was even coming over tonight to have a marathon with you.

(He’d said that season three, his favourite, you had to watch alongside him.)

You: eren's annoying little shit  

Jungkook: told you so

You: but levi? damn I’d sell my soul for him  

Jungkook: for a 5’2 emotionally unavailable man?  

You: yep. that’s my type

It was far from truth. As much as you liked Captain Levi, he wasn’t Jungkook. You are my type, you wanted to write instead. There hadn’t been a man in my life who managed to even come close to you. But, as always, you kept those confessions to yourself.  

Right when you were about to play another episode, your phone buzzed again.  

Jungkook: I have a weird question  

You: I’m used to that  

You: shoot your shot.  

Jungkook: what’s your finger size?  

Confused, you read his last message once again. That was indeed a weird fucking question to ask, you thought. You had never really been a fan of rings. You only owed one - a gift from your grandmother she gave you for your sixteenth birthday. Rummaging thorough your drawer, you found it in a separate, black case.  

It still fit just right, so you took a ruler, measured the size and googled the results.  

You: it’s 7.5 I guess

You: why do you ask tho?  

Jungkook: I need you to go somewhere with me before our marathon if that’s okay

You: you didn’t answer my question  

You: but okay. what time?

Jungkook: ill pick you up at 5pm  

Jungkook: you’ll see  

Maybe it was for the better he hadn’t told you where he was taking you. If you had know, you would have backed away last minute. Come up with so lame excuse, blame it all on a headache or period cramps.

If you had known Jungkook was taking you to pick up an engagement ring for Soojin, you would have never come with him.  

When you parked in front of one of the most high-ranking jewellery stores dowtown, the solemnity of the situation hit you like a whiplash. You took a deep, shuddering breath. Jungkook was thinking about marrying Soojin. Jungkook was going to propose to her, soon. He was ready to spent the rest of his life with her. 

Jeon Jungkook, the love of your life, was about to slip out of your reach for good. 

You couldn’t cry. Not in front of him. You clenched your fists so tight the knuckles turned white.  

“I figured out you could help me,” Jungkook said, breaking the silence and unbuckled his seatbelt. “I checked Soojin's finger size once when she was showering and then I found out that your’s the same and well, you’re a girl so you obviously know more about jewellery than me and–”

“Jungkook,” you cut him off with a dry chuckle. You didn’t want him to speak. You didn’t want to see him. You wanted to jumped off his car and ran away from that place as far as possible. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I get it.”  

You smiled at him with reassurance. It was actually hilarious, how you mastered the art of feigning your real feelings when you were with him. It came easy to you to lie but with every untold truth, you were hurting more on the inside.  

“I’m here, so you don’t have to worry about chosing something horrible.”  

He grinned and you noticed a dust of pink covering the apples his cheeks. It was hard, so fucking hard seeing him happy because that was all you ever wanted and yet it pained you not to be the main source of it. Jungkook was twenty-three and already so in love he wanted to get married. You were going to see him in a black tux, a prince charming waiting in front of the altar for his princess.  

It ached. Why did it ache to see him happy?

The lady who worked at the jewellery store greeted you politely with a bow. “What can I do for you?” she asked.  

“We are looking for engagement rings.” Jungkook answered.

You could tell she was a bit astounded but her professional smile never faltered when she responded with, “Oh, that’s still quite unusual to see the couple chosing an engagement ring together.”  

You were about to protest but then, Jungkook did something you would never expect him to do.  

He grasped your hand.

(It was warm. His touch was soothing. Comforting. Then why did it hurt so bad?)  

“My girlfriend wants to chose the ring herself but she doesn’t know when she will get it.”  

To make matters worse, he sent you a wink. The store’s clerk cooed at the scene and clasped a hand over her chest. For her it was yet another day at work, yet another pair of adults who had decided to get marry.  

“You make a really beautiful couple.” she said. 

Even Jungkook’s hand squeezing yours couldn’t ease the sting you felt hearing her speak those words to you. You smiled lightly for good measure. She then pointed at the display and gave you some time and space too look at the options.

Your whole face felt hot. Jungkook was still holding your hand, still playing the role of a perfect boyfriend. He didn’t seem to notice what kind of effect it had on you. He didn’t know how fast your heart was beating, how warm his touch felt on your skin. It was all just a silly joke to him.

He leaned closer to you, so the store's clerk couldn’t hear him. His breath tickled your skin. “You’re blushing.” he whispered.  

“Shut up.”  

He chuckled and let go of your hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”  

(No matter how much it hurt you on the inside, you already missed his touch.)

“It’s okay. Let’s chose my damned ring, shall we?” you proposed, mustering a nonchalant tone.  

Dodging uneasiness with humor always worked out, it seemed.

You felt odd and out of place standing next to him and staring at all those glimmering jewels. In the corner of the eye you saw the lady who worked there glancing at you from time to time and that was when you remembered you were supposed to act like a soon-to-be fiancée. 

“They’re all pretty.” you said to Jungkook. 

“Which one you like the most then?”  

You didn’t have to think long about the answer. The ring with an emerald stone caught your eye from the beginning. It was different than the others, definitely not a standard choice for engagement but something about its peculiarity made you want it to have it shinning on your finger one day.  

Except, you weren’t here for yourself. Jungkook wasn’t your boyfriend. You were helping him chose a ring for Soojin. And you knew exactly what she would like.  

So you pointed at the number thirty-two. A sparkling, white-gold ring with an oval-shaped diamond.  

Jungkook let out a hum. “It’s really pretty, yeah. Excuse me,” he called. “My girlfriend would like to try out this one.”  

You ignored the phantom pain you felt as you put the ring on. You flexed your fingers and just for a moment, you pretended it wasn’t a farce your best friend came up with. The diamond shone brightly just like the glimmers of happiness in Jungkook's eyes. He didn’t have to worry about Soojin's answer. He knew it would be thousand times yes.

You were good at pretending. After all, you had been practicing the art of it almost your entire life.  

So you drove with Jungkook to your apartment and listened to him babbling about his newest project at work. You made snacks, sat in front of your TV and spent the next couple of hours watching Attack On Titan. You cursed him for spoiling you a few bits of the show and Jungkook, like the petty Virgo he was, reminded you how you accidentally revealed him Little Women's ending because you had read the book years before.

As you laughed and bickered with him, you still remembered about the crimson box tucked in the pocket of his leather jacket, but you didn’t allow yourself to break. Not yet.  

It was only when Jungkook fell asleep around 1am that you stepped into the shower and let the tears flow.  

And a week later, when the dreaded became real–

Jungkook: she said yes!!!

A white lie was told to avoid hurting someone’s feelings.

You: I’m so happy for you, Jungkook!  

After all, the best you could do was give up your happiness for the sake of his own.

[yeojaa]

GIRL we need a devil in a new suit drabble where jungkook gets jealous pls bless us😭😭❤️

[ read devil in a new suit ]

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  kook being hilarious and naive, reader being a little frustrated but head over heels, smut in the form of:  titty sucking (kook is a big boob guy in this), cunnilingus, kook wanting to love you forever.  wc.  2.1k.  author note.  i am... so in love with this couple so what was meant to be a “kook gets jealous and breaks reader’s back” turned into... this.

Jeon Jungkook doesn’t get jealous.  Not because he doesn’t care, or he’s unaffected, or any other negative connotation under the sun.  He doesn’t because he’s him, too soft and sweet and silly to believe the worst in people.  (This, coming from the man who’d steered clear of dating apps and blind dates because he was worried he’d be hurt.)

Once, you’d been waiting for him to pick you - he’d been running late, dinner with his parents and younger sister - and he’d found you chatting politely to an old fling of yours.  Well, maybe not so old.  A recent fling, a friend of sorts.  Someone who’d swanned into your life during your college years and had remained there ever since, popping his head in from time to time. 

You’d always been on good terms, caught up for lunch every six months or so when he’d return home from his overseas job.  In the past, you’d found familiarity in the shape of his hands, the neon outline of his almond eyes and pouting lips.  He was good in bed, as charming between the sheets as he was on the street.

But your heart belonged to Jungkook now - had, before you’d even realised it - and Taewoo was just another guy.  Another face in a crowd.

Still, you’d thought your beloved boyfriend would have some sort of reaction.  Maybe a quirk of his perfectly groomed brows, a certain tightness belying his displeasure in the softly peaked bow of his mouth.  You’d spied neither after extracting yourself from the hug and waving goodbye.  Jungkook had been sunshine and sweetness, opening your door for you and stamping a kiss to your cheek.  

That night, he’d loved you how he always had, with you crying his name and making a mess of his sheets.

Another time, you’d been at a work function.  One of those ridiculous galas you loved, full of women in their highest heels and men in their swankiest watches.  (You’d worn Aquazzura that night, Jungkook with an Audemars Piguet loose around his wrist.)  

He’d stuck close to your side, far more interested in the way your dress hugged your figure, cut intimidatingly high over your thigh and revealed the swell of your ass at juuuust the right angle.  Yejin had been the only one to tear him away, insisting on shots that you knew she couldn’t handle.  Anything went if free booze was involved.

Thirty minutes later - give or take, since you hadn’t had a watch of your own on - your boyfriend had returned, flushed and adorable.  There’d been a garden of colour creeping over the expanse of his chest, peeking around the collar of his shirt and disappearing into his neatly tousled strands.  He’d giggled his way back to you, somehow completely oblivious to the man that’d found you at your table and settled himself into the spot labelled Jeon Jungkook.

The imposter had been affronted, gaze narrowed at the younger man who was a little too loose, a little too smiley.  Wholly out of place at an event like this, where people spent too much time up their own asses, noses held aloft and business cards exchanged.  

(One of the reasons you loved Jungkook so much.  He was a breath of fresh air in a world you thrived in - found humour in, at the very least - carrying you high above the clouds with the sound of his laughter.)

“Hi, baby.”  Your darling boy smothered you in kisses, traced them up and over the exposed expanse of your shoulder, nosing against your skin, utterly unbothered by the man shooting him daggers, wishing him ill from the spot he’d wrongly claimed.  

Of course, he’d thought Jungkook was making a point - claiming what was his - but that was so far from the truth you’d almost laughed when he’d spoken, voice carrying above the slightly laboured breaths of your lover.  “I guess that’s my cue to leave, huh?”

You’d smiled, nodded with a hand threaded into cornsilk curling over Jungkook’s nape.  “Looks like it.”

(Then your idiot love - your big-hearted moron, your doe-eyed baby - had come up for air, cheek resting in the palm of his hand.  “Where’s your friend?”  He’d asked, eyes so wide you couldn’t doubt the sincerity of his question.)

Such was the kind of person Jungkook was, with an unwavering belief in the goodness of others, a silver thread outlining everyone’s silhouette.  You sometimes wondered what it would take to drive him to any sort of displeasure, any sort of emotion beyond quiet melancholy (seldom seen but heavily felt, when the rare occasions rose) or easygoing amicability (his default setting).  Not that you’d ever push to see that, of course.

You were happy.  Hopelessly in love.  You wouldn’t have traded him for the world - couldn’t even fathom doing anything to hurt him.  

And yet, you discover albeit by accident - it’s really not that hard.  All it takes is a pretty girl.

“This looks incredible,”  she says, standing close, long dark hair falling in a fluid curtain down the line of her back.  It’s the loveliest shade, cool-toned beneath the boutique lights, and reflects colour like a waterfall.  You’d complimented her on it when you’d stepped into the fitting area, a handful of hangers set across the rolling rack.

Fingers smooth over embroidery, revelling in the feeling of it over your skin.  It’s a beautiful thing, black tulle that hangs to your fingertips.  Not Jungkook’s preferred style - he much prefers harnesses and so many straps it might as well be a cat’s cradle - but you think he loves it nonetheless. 

(You’d confirm, but he’s been stoically silent, seated in the plush chair tucked beside the privacy partition, normally soft gaze hard and trained on his phone.  He doesn’t seem very much in the mood to talk, hardly reacting with each outfit change.  A nod here, a smile there.  Not even the most scandalous of the options - a black corset decorated in Leavers lace - had elicited his usual enthusiasm.)  

“You think so?”  You’re not insecure about your body - know what it looks best in, which assets to play up.  Still, it’s nice to hear from someone other than your doting boyfriend, the people caught in your orbit.  

The sales associate nods, beams at you in the multiple mirrors.  A hand of her own drifts over the thin strap of the slip - an innocent gesture that dislodges wayward strands of hair from beneath.  “Of course— and I’m not just saying that because I’m trying to sell it.” 

You nod, satisfied.  Even if Jungkook doesn’t seem ecstatic, your own joy makes up for it, buyer’s delight spilling over.  “I’ll take the satin robe, the blush silk set, and this in the violet.”  

“Great choices,”  she hums, pulling back the curtain to the adjoining change room to allow you privacy.  Silence follows as you slip the delicate number off, returning it to its hanger.  You don’t expect when the brunette continues speaking - presumably to your surprisingly surly boyfriend.  “Don’t you agree?” 

“Yep.”  He’s never been a man of few words, usually so full of excitement that he rambles when he doesn’t mean to.  

It’s a dead giveaway - a confirmation that something’s wrong.

Unfortunately for you, you don’t have time to broach the subject, your purchases already paid for and a firm hand on the small of your back the moment you’ve stepped out of the dressing stall.  “Jungkookie?”  You mean it quietly, just for the two of you, but falter when he slots his fingers between yours and all but tugs you out of the boutique.  You hardly even have a chance to toss the helpful girl an apologetic smile, imposing glass swinging shut behind you.

“Men—men are fine.  I don’t have to worry about them.”  There’s a confidence you’re so proud to see, turning his words as solid as the weight that rests against your hip, sears burning heat into your bared skin.  “No other man is going to love you better than me.  But women?”  A shudder runs the length of his imposing frame, tugs his shoulders up to his ears and tingles the small of his back.  “Women are scary.”  (It’s a sentiment he’s echoed in the past.  In particular, months ago when you’d insisted he dive into the dating scene.)

Hands thread through his too-soft strands, twirl the ends around your fingers as he speaks, nearly muffled into the crook of your shoulder.  He’s being so tender, giving you all the love he has to offer as he writes his insecurities into your skin, offers them with the wet of his tongue.

“A woman might sweep you off your feet and steal you away.”

You laugh then - sound snapping past your teeth before you can tuck it away.  It filters loudly into the baies scented candle you’d lit when you’d gotten into his apartment.  

Jungkook whines in response - a terribly endearing sound that makes you roll your eyes but only with affection (always with that) - and buries his face into your tits, sucking your nipple into his mouth with complete disregard for the tulle that acts as a barrier.  Saliva stains the material, makes it stick to your hardened bud as he laves over it with his tongue - bites surprisingly gently - and tugs it just hard enough to have you keening.

“S-s’not funny,”  he huffs, palming your other breast in his broad tattooed palm.  When he continues, he bites into you like he’s got a personal vendetta against whatever lies beneath your flesh.  “She was flirting with you.”  

It’s less of a sigh of annoyance - more sensual, drowning in need.  “She was not.”

He nips at the delicate flesh again, spreads crimson marks all across the sensitive skin until it’s a mosaic beneath the fabric, his finest work painted by his second favourite brush.  “That’s what you think but she was.”  The hand previously kneading your skin drops, flat of his palm sliding easily over your bare pussy.  

There’s zero hesitation when he slots his fingers on either side of your clit, catches the delicate pearl against the webbing of his hand and applies pressure that has you bucking beneath him.  It’s not nearly as aggressive as he normally is but it’s just as good, paired with the sinful motions of his tongue and teeth. 

“She wants to be the one doing this,”  he continues, saliva pooling across your chest, slipping into the valley of your breasts only to be licked up by the flat of his tongue.  He continues even once you’re clean, skin sticky and a little gross but so erotic it makes you quiver.  Then he descends, pushes the hem of your new slip higher, and licks another stripe from the joint of your thigh up to your belly button.  Repeats it again, moving lower with each pass until he’s sucking your clit into his mouth.  “She wants to be the one tasting this pretty, pretty pussy.”

You reach for his hand - the one somewhere near your ribs, side of his wrist soothing against the ladder of bones - and tangle your fingers together as he drives you mad, tip of his tongue switching between sweet kitten licks and tantalising figure eights.

“Baby,”  you coax, reprimand almost.  Jungkook’s never this lenient, never this sweet on you (not inside the bedroom, at least).  It brings you to a different high, his love folded into lovely origami cranes you tuck into your pockets and the spot you’ve carved out for him within your chest.

“Sing for me, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t mean literally - refers instead to the sound of your voice when it leaps three octaves, bounces between sultry and singed, burnt at the edges by the fire he brings to life. 

“Tell me you’ll never leave me.”  Despite how the words muffle, come broken between the glide of his tongue within your fluttering walls, you can hear the sincerity in them.  The earnestness that begs you to promise him this simple thing.  “Not for her.  Not for anyone.”  

“I won’t leave you,”  you answer, threading the vow between your fingers as if they’re the thread binding your love story together.  “Not for her - not for anyone.”

[taramikealson]

Just a sort of canon-ish Drabble that I got a little carried away with.

Set after the events in TVD excluding the “Hell” storyline in Season 8, the miracle babies, Caroline dating Alaric, Marcel taking the serum, and a few minor changes that are hopefully recognizable.

He could feel the irritation crawl along his skin like a serpent slithering itself up and around a tree. With the irritation, came anger.

Sometimes he enjoyed the challenge that came with others riffling with his plans. He has theories as to why he does but deep down he knows the true reason. His wolf. The thrill and excitement that came with the thought of the hunt. Predators such as wolves are born hunters who thrive on such games.

But, he is not only a wolf. No, he is a strategist- a remarkable one at that. There had been no plan, no despicable machination of his that hasn’t had a fail-safe.

Except for this one.

He had gotten himself into a situation where he finally became comfortable again after nearly ten centuries of running. And when he got comfortable, he began to lose his edge.

After successfully re-stabilizing the Quarter and allowing his brother to take a leading role in the peace treaty between the factions, New Orleans fell quiet. Of course, every so often there’d be a dispute between a couple of the factions that rose a concern within his elder brother, but that was always unavoidable. Werewolves, witches, and vampires alike have fought for centuries, that type of violence and warfare doesn’t automatically stop with a peace treaty. His brother may hope for that positive outcome but Klaus had always been a realist. And, unfortunately as he predicted, the peace was temporary.

“Niklaus, this is not a situation that we should ignore.” His brother’s voice sounded through the phone that he had pressed against his right ear.

No, this isn’t something we should ignore. He thinks, tentatively keeping his lips pressed together to keep himself from speaking of something that perhaps his brother shouldn’t know.

“Should Marcel make a regretful move, this treaty we’ve formed could very well be null and void.”

If Marcel were to make a move, it may start a gruesome war between the vampires and werewolves. If Klaus knew Marcel well enough, his former right-hand man is most likely planning something rather ill-conceived. He hasn’t theorized whether the harsh consequences will weigh the heaviest on either the vampires or werewolves, or even the whole Quarter all together. No matter what they may be, he’s most certain his brother won’t be quite pleased with what he has planned.

Although Klaus once held a tight hold over the vampires, it came to his attention that Marcel continued to be respected amongst both the day and nightwalker community. Thus, why in the time of tension, they clamber to him in search of a leader to choose the decisions that will benefit them. Which is why Klaus has chosen to keep the werewolves as an ally. The werewolves have proven to be loyal to Hayley and his daughter because they both are seen as part of the pack, which unnerves Klaus but gives him the relief that those wolves will protect his daughter. The connection that Hayley holds with those werewolves is bound to be manipulated, might as well be him to do so in a beneficial way. For both the stability of New Orleans and the safety of his daughter.

“Brother, do you understand me?”

His shoes crunch against the small layer of gravel underneath his feet.

“Yes.” Klaus tries his best to keep the irritation out of his voice but his answer still sounds short.

The hybrid immediately ends the call, noting that the conversion was to be continued in person. While pocketing his phone, he takes a few steps further along the rooftop and then steps up onto the ledge, giving him a grand view of the Quarter from a few buildings away.

A rough shuffle and a few voices could be heard from a little farther down the alley below him, but he didn’t much care about the happenings within the alley. From what he could hear, there were two men speaking in hushed tones, their heartbeats slower and more quiet indicating their undead nature. The fast and erratic heartbeat that was a few paces in front of them was a clear indication to Klaus of what the vampires below were planning to do.

His lips turned up slightly. He, himself, was feeling a bit peckish, perhaps he’ll grab a quick bite before he returns home to his disapproving older brother.

The vampires eventually closed the woman in, murmuring to her about where she was going and why she was out at such a time. He found it interesting that she stayed quiet. Ninety-nine percent of the time, the women would say something whether it be a plea to let them go or an angry curse.

Wanting to stay out of the house- more like away from his brother- for as long as he can, he turned his head to look down the alleyway. If this ends to be unentertaining, he’ll most likely grab a drink at Rousseau’s.

There, he could see both the vampires crowd into the blonde woman’s space. She has her back pushed up against the rough brick.

“I don’t think it’s very safe for a lady like yourself to be out here.” The vampire states before his eyes transform and fangs replace his blunt teeth. Usually, this is when the victims begin to scream or mutter that modern saying, oh my, God. But the woman doesn’t seem as scared as a normal human would be.

“You’re making a mistake.” She murmurs and Klaus’ eyes widen a hair, recognizing the voice. But before he can think of anything else, the woman is thrusting a wooden stake into the vampire’s stomach.

The vampire doubles over and the other vampire goes to attack the human but he’s no match for Klaus’ speed. Without a second thought, Klaus appears before the vampire, shoving him back before he could get to the woman. The other vampire has now pulled the stake from his torso and was looking to kill but Klaus turned toward him.

“Enough.”

The vampire pauses but scowls at him, a look of disgust and anger apparent in his eyes. His hand rises and points to the human. “She stabbed me! She’s a tourist! Tourists are fair game-,”

“And you would be in the right if it weren’t for her being under my protection.”

The vampire looks a little surprised at Klaus’ declaration and is about to protest once more but Klaus beats him to it.

“Now, I suggest you scamper off to Marcel before I’m tempted to rid you both of your hands.”

Both vampires share a glance and Klaus continues to stand his ground confidently. Eventually, the vampires figure out that it’s probably best for them to avoid any conflict with an Original, the Original Hybrid no less. Thus, they both give the human one last threatening look before flashing away into the night.

With the vampires disappearance, Klaus had began to turn around and quip something sarcastic but his whole expression changes when Caroline’s knees give out. His hands come out at vampiric speed as he catches her by her upper arms and kneels down as he slowly lowers with her.

It’s then that he sees her clearly. Her hair isn’t as perfect as she normally used to keep it, almost like she hasn’t had access to the proper equipment. Her clothes were a little wrinkled and two small dark red dots bled through her white shirt indicating that a bandaged wound was leaking. Concern now flooded through him as his eyes connected with her face. It was as beautiful as ever but there was a deep exhaustion and a line of stress etched into her forehead. Oh how his heart now aches. He thinks that he hasn’t felt as worried for someone as he is with Hope, but yet here he is, holding her just enough so she doesn’t slump over.

He now realizes that she hadn’t just lost most of her strength, but had been keeping herself from showing any weakness towards those vampires. If he wasn’t so concerned with her health, he’d be praising her for her stubborn strength.

“Caroline, look at me, love.” He aides her by tilting her head up gently by her chin. Her eyes are tired and look so vulnerable.

She looks as if she’s about to say something but Klaus shakes his head. “Conserve your strength. You’re alright, I’ve got you.” If those words were spoken to anyone else, they’d have a right mind to be worried but she seemed to feel relieved. He takes that as permission to pick her up, holding her from underneath her legs and shoulders.

His thoughts of what his brother will think of him are completely wiped away when he races to his home. It’s quiet but he knows his brother is lurking somewhere. He’s not quite concerned about Freya, Rebekah, and Hayley’s absences. Ever since the incident between the werewolves and vampires, Hayley has taken it upon herself to help with the remaining pack. Freya is most likely working on another miracle to save this city’s peace and it’s no surprise that Rebekah is with Marcel.

Klaus contemplates taking Caroline to a guest bedroom but the closest one to his is farther than he’d like so he figures that taking her to his bedroom won’t be the worst idea. At least he’d be able to keep a close eye on her for the time being.

He sets her down gently to the dark grey covers and takes a sharp turn into the bathroom. Klaus comes back out a few moments later with a wet washcloth and a couple different sizes of bandages. Caroline shifts a little and grazes her hand against the side of her torso where the wound was which seems to instantly sober her up. She lets out a small gasp and grimaces in pain. Her hand hovers over it as if it’d take the pain away. Klaus walks back over to her and sits on the edge of the bed, a few inches separating himself from her.

Extending his hand, his eyes travel up to her face seeking silently for any sign of rejection before pulling the edge of her shirt up to reveal a blood-soaked bandage. His hands slowly peel away the bandage and Klaus didn’t know what to expect but he hadn’t expect something quite as brutal as this. No, this was not a wound from an accident, this was intentional and by someone who was trying to harm Caroline. In fact, he was quite knowledgeable about this particular wound, or had been when he was human. By the sharp angles of the shape of the wound, he could tell it had been an arrow tip that pierced her skin. When he was human, Kol had been recklessly playing with his father’s bow and accidentally shot Finn in the shoulder. He had kept that arrow shaped scar for as long as he could remember. But just because Finn had survived, it only made Klaus more concerned.

By the tear of the wound, it seems to have been reopened due to stress. Although, he imagines that it’s good news that it’s not infected. Klaus is as gentle as he possibly can be when he pays the wet washcloth along her wound. She bites her lip hard and grasps his arm in a painful grip but he allows her to do so, hoping that if a fraction of his pain can dull hers, then so be it.

After a few moments, she slowly takes her hand away and he begins to clean around the wound.

“Klaus-,”

“Don’t.” He begins, “not now.”

His words come out a tad harsher than intended but she knows he’s just concerned and doesn’t know how to healthily deal with it like a normal human.

“I need you to listen just for once.”

“Caroline, let yourself rest before we speak of anything.”

She appreciated the notion that he valued her safety and well-being more than an explanation of why she showed up in his city as a human. But this couldn’t wait, for her safety and his own.

To truly get his attention, she places her hand on top of the one that was still cleaning the blood off her skin. It pauses its movements and he looks up to her.

“I- I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to use you for your contacts but I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” She hesitates to continue because after she asks, his involvement becomes concrete. Because she knows that he’ll help her. “I need a witch, someone powerful. Someone who can do a cloaking spell that can’t be broken by another witch.”

His face doesn’t express as much emotion as she thought it would but she doesn’t think that it’s a bad thing. He obviously seems to be contemplating something as his eyes bore into hers.

Setting aside the washcloth, he straightens out and takes a sleek black phone out of his jacket pocket. Without hesitation, he clicks a few times on the screen and places the phone against his ear.

“Freya, I need you at the Compound immediately.” With that, he puts his phone away and reaches for a bandage. Taking the plastic off, he softly places it over her wound, pressing along the outside, securing it to her skin without causing her pain.

His eyes refocus onto hers and she spots the anger that has now manifested within those blue orbs. “Who did this?” He asks and Caroline Knew she should have known better than to think the wound wouldn’t show any foul play.

“Silas.” Klaus’ lips part in confusion. For all he knows, Silas had been put in a safe and thrown down the quarry. God, things got complicated since he’d left. Much more complicated than she would have liked.

“For a while he pretended to be Stefan. We didn’t know because we thought he could only mess with a couple people’s perspectives but turns out he’s a doppelgänger.” She mentally cringes when remembering how Silas continuously terrorized her and her friends. She also remembers how Silas had made everyone think he was dead when Stefan killed him but had used it as an out to chalk up another plan that revolved solely around revenge. Against her.

Caroline begins to pull herself up into a sitting position so she’s resting against the headboard and is thankful when Klaus helps her. “Before you came back, we thought Stefan killed Silas but he’d used some last resort spell and it gave him the perfect out to recollect himself.”

“I guess he waited for a few years for things to settle down and for us to be off our guard.Damon was as happy as he could be considering Elena, Bonnie was back, and Stefan and I were getting back on good terms. Silas approached me on the last day of my Senior year.” Klaus notices as she bites her lip and looks down at her hands that have begun to twiddle in slight nervousness. “Silas made me think we were making some kind of deal. I leave my friends behind and never go back to Mystic Falls, or he kills me and everyone I care about. I chose to leave.”

Swallowing, her eyes darted from her hands to Klaus’ face to gauge what he might have been thinking but he wasn’t showing any sign other than that he was just listening to her, allowing her to pour whatever worries she had onto him.

“I don’t know if he thought that I would just settle down in some other place to get the opportunity to know my whereabouts while he tried to kill my friends but he called negotiations off when I skipped the third town I went to. So, he went after me.” When the single tear fell from her eye, she was a little surprised at how vulnerable she was allowing herself to be. “I told everyone that I was taking off for a little bit to go travel since I had finished college. I didn’t want them to try to find me and end up as one of Silas’ next victims.”

She pauses and wipes the stray tear away, trying to recollect herself. She must look like hell, crying would only make it worse. Caroline needed to man-up. There was no doubt that what Klaus had gone through with his father, or step-father, was worse.

Klaus leans forward and takes her hand into his, letting him drop a feather-light kiss along her knuckles. “You are safe. If I ever promise you anything, I will certainly promise you that.”

Caroline can’t help the small smile that forms on her face, knowing that he is being truly genuine. His lips turn up as well.

A small knock on the door interrupts them and Klaus rises from the bed. A taller dirty blonde woman stands in the doorway, analyzing both of them. Klaus crosses the room and pulls the woman further into the hallway, speaking to her in a hushed tone.

After a moment of back and forth conversation, they both advance into the room. Klaus pauses for a minute, watching as the woman approaches the side of the bed. She offers Caroline a reassuring smile that tells her she’s most likely a friend of Klaus’ or at least someone in his good graces.

“Caroline, right? I’m the older and wiser Mikealson sibling, Freya.” Caroline blinks for a moment and looks to Klaus in confusion. Although, she assumes what the woman, Freya, is saying must be somewhat true because all Klaus does is slightly roll his eyes in such a brotherly manner before turning towards the liquor tray.

“Niklaus tells me you need a little bit of a complex cloaking spell.” Caroline nods. Being that Freya must be a Mikealson, it is always safe to walk on eggshells around the ones she’s not very familiar with, no doubt the ones that she never knew about.

Freya turns towards the hybrid who was sipping his drink. “Will you fetch my grimoire and my herb bowl from the study, brother?” Klaus doesn’t seem all too eager to be ordered around but he does as asked and walks out of the room. Freya turns back towards Caroline and motions to the space when Klaus had sat before.

“May I?”

Caroline gives her a short nod and Freya smiles.

“Why are you being so nice to me? I thought all Mikealsons were kinda bordering on the ‘I don’t help anyone but my family’ ideology.” Caroline was going to be more subtle about it but she’s injured and doesn’t feel well, might as well rip off the band-aid.

Funnily enough, Freya laughs. “I’d agree with you but I’m quite aware of who you are.”

Now, that was surprising. Did Klaus say anything about her to his siblings? It didn’t seem like something he’d do. Her mouth opened to say something but she couldn’t find her words. It seems like Freya had an idea of what she was thinking and thought to correct her.

“I saw you when I entered my brother’s mind. If it weren’t under life and death circumstances I wouldn’t have done so. Trust me, I’ve already heard a mouthful from Niklaus.”

That made Caroline even a bit more nervous. Did this woman know everything about her and Klaus then? Had she watched some of their interactions? “How much do you know?” She asks.

“Just enough to know how important you are to my brother.”

That’s not cryptic at all. Caroline isn’t sure if that means Freya knows a little too much than she should or not but she imagines that she can’t push the woman any further than she’s willing so she shuts her mouth. And she also really doubts that Klaus is out of earshot, he can probably hear almost anything from the other side of the house so it’s best not to speak out of turn. Or maybe just not too much about him.

Speak of the devil, because he then walks through the door not even a few moments afterwards, carrying a grimoire and a small bowl with a few items in it that looked close to medical supplies.

He comes up behind his sister and sets her grimoire down on the bed and intentionally hands her the bowl, making her notice the extra supplies within. A sterile needle with surgical string and a couple other medical supplies. As he hands the bowl over to her, he murmurs, “perhaps you should also take a look at her wound, sister.”

By the look in his eye, she could tell he was a bit more concerned about the girl’s physical wound than the cloaking spell being down. Then again, both siblings knew that with all of the magic surrounding the Compound, it would take a highly skilled witch at least a couple hours to work through a location spell for anyone who was there.

Freya nods and takes the bowl from him. Klaus steps back and takes a seat directly across the room from the bed in one of the leather chairs, still allowing Caroline to see him.

The witch silently asks for permission to have a closer look at Caroline’s wound before pulling the new bandage away. Caroline watches Freya’s eyebrows furrow as she inspects the wound. Freya’s eyes look back up to her.

“Have you had this looked at before?”

Caroline shakes her head lightly. “But I tried to keep it closed.” Her lips turn up into a ghost of a smile. “You only learn so much in high school and college level health classes.” Freya understands the lightheartedness within the statement and offers her a smile.

“Well, it seems like you at least kept it clean.” Freya begins. “But I’ll need to stitch it up a little and possibly do a proper cleaning just in case. It’ll probably be easy to put you to sleep for that.”

Caroline’s eyebrows furrow at the lack of a surgical syringe. “Like a witchy anesthesia?”

Freya seems to enjoy her lack of magical knowledge and find amusement in it. “Something along those lines.”

“You’ve done it before, right?”

The witch lets out a small laugh. “Yes, but I can certainly do a demonstration.” Her head turns over her shoulder towards her younger brother but Klaus seems unimpressed.

It was a little reassuring seeing him naturally take up his brotherly role. She hadn’t ever really seen that side of him and never saw him actually interact with his siblings before. It was nice to know that even the Original Hybrid could act like a typical brother once in a great while.

“I promise it’s safe and when you wake, your wound will be patched right up.” Freya reassures and Caroline nods. She knows that Klaus will go just about as far as he possibly can to keep her safe which tells her that Freya is trustworthy. So, she doesn’t think about it too long before she murmurs, “okay.”

———————————————-

Upon breaking the fog of sleep, she doesn’t feel as weak as she had before Freya had put her to sleep which was a good sign. She begins to lift her head off the pillow and suddenly feels a warm hand help her sit up.

Looking over, she sees Klaus hovering beside her. “Easy, love. No need to tear your new sutures.”

His words remind her and she looks down, pulling her shirt up and the bandage aside to see her wound stitched up neatly with a strange light paste spread on top.

“My sister assured me that her little remedy,” he nods towards the paste on her wound, “should have healed you just enough to allow you to shower, if you wish to do so.”

The thought of a steaming hot shower is so appealing to her right now. “God, yes.” She sighs. It’s been so long since she’d been in any type of shower that wasn’t in a hotel or had some sort of modern day technology.

It seems Klaus enjoys her enthusiasm and takes it as a good sign for her health. “Would you like me to fetch my sister to help you?”

Caroline shakes her head. “No, it’s okay. I’m okay.” She silently thinks that should anything happen, he’ll most likely be listening in on her. It was a little creepy to think about but also made her feel a tad safer knowing that he’d always make sure she was safe.

He respects her choice and helps her stand. Waiting a moment to make sure she gets her bearings, he keeps a hand on the small of her back and leads her towards the entrance of the bathroom. She silently thanks him before he closes the door to a crack after her.

Looking around the bathroom, she’s not surprised about how lavish it is and how neat it’s kept. She never really took Klaus as the person who kept his personal space in disarray. As clean as it was, it still held the feeling of being used daily. One of the medicine cabinets was left cracked open a little, a small tin and classic shaving knife was left on top of a white cloth, and a bottle of cologne sat on the counter. If Caroline had possibly thought of a bathroom Klaus would ever call his, this is probably as close to it as she’d get.

Caroline decides that if she takes too long, Klaus may think something is wrong so she strips quickly and turns the water on. She’s pleased when it takes a whole couple seconds for the water to warm. Stepping into the shower, she sighs at how good it feels. The water runs down her, rinsing away all of the dirt and grime from the past couple days.

After getting her hair wet, she reads the minimalist labels on the three bottles that sat on the shower shelf. Thank God they weren’t the typical soaps that guys used nowadays. She shivers at the thought of two-in-one products. These were just simply packaged products that were obviously a little more on the manlier side of things but it’ll have to do.

Rubbing the shampoo and conditioner in her curls, she almost felt a weight lift off of her. Once she finished up basking in the warmth of the shower, she turned the dial off and stepped out. Grabbing the white towel, she wraps it around herself and tries to dry up as much as she can.

Upon walking back over to the bathroom counter she notices that she can’t exactly wear her old clothes but she does choose to wear her bra and underwear again. Hopefully she can ask Klaus to rile her up something for her to wear.

When she exits the bathroom, she immediately notices that the French doors that had led to the balcony outside were now closed with the drapes shut and the sliding door to the bedroom was almost shut all the way. She could hear a little movement in the next room over and assumed it was Klaus.

Stepping further into the bedroom, she sees that she doesn’t even need to ask Klaus for clothes because there’s a pair of yoga pants and t-shirt folded neatly on the bed. It was also accompanied with a hairbrush. Her heart warms at the thoughtfulness but then again, Klaus had always put thought behind a lot of things that involved her.

She’s quick to take the precious privacy that he allowed her and got dressed.

He finally emerged when she was finishing up brushing her hair. He held a plate of food and a glass of water. Caroline places the hairbrush down and into the drawer of the nightstand before scooting herself further back on the bed to give him enough space. Klaus sits down on the edge of the bed and places the glass of water on the nightstand, then handing Caroline the plate. At the sight of the scrambled eggs, bacon, and assortment of fruit on the plate, she was almost worried her stomach would growl. She doesn’t even remember when she last had a proper meal.

“Thank you.” She murmurs when he hands her a clean fork.

His smile is genuine and tells her that he doesn’t find helping her to be a chore. When he watches her carefully as she began to eat, she knew that if he’d done so a few years back she’d find it extremely creepy, but now she’s come to find out that it’s his way of communicating his reassurance. He’s silently telling her that he’s here, he’s going to protect her.

“I’ll leave you to eat. Perhaps get a few more hours of sleep, it’s only a quarter after six.” He states as he rises from the bed. His eyes drift for a moment down to her torso where her wound is covered by her shirt. Something in his eyes changes and he leans down close to her head. She pauses as his lips softly connect with her forehead. He pulls back a little and looks deep into her eyes.

“So long as I have a say in the matter, Silas will never get close enough to touch you again.” He then rises to his full length and exits the room.

——————————————

After eating and getting a couple more hours of sleep she’d ventured out of Klaus bedroom to find him again. When she did he was insistent about getting her at least a week’s worth of clothing for herself. She didn’t make a second objection, knowing that either way Klaus will get her clothing, it was just a matter of if she’d pick it out or have some compelled vampire do it. Thus he’d taken her to a few local shops. In typical guy fashion, Klaus hadn’t been too animated about watching her pick clothing out. In most of the stores, they’d parted ways- her towards anything that caught her eye and him to any empty seat he could find.

Caroline tried to be as time efficient as possible knowing that even a man who has waited a thousand years to break his curse, he still had his limits of patience. As much as she thought he dreaded chaperoning her, because he refused to have a possibility of another vampire thinking they could harm her, he still offered her considerate smiles. There were a few instances where she could feel the heat of his gaze as she walked out of the dressing room. She didn’t know what to make of it and brushed it aside.

This is hopefully the first and last time Caroline thinks this, but she is thankful that Klaus has the ability to compel vampires. He had a vampire, she forgot her name, retrieved Caroline’s brand new clothes and took them to the Compound so they could continue to stroll down a few of the streets.

If Caroline hadn’t spent the last couple years skipping from city to city, she thinks she may have been a little more amazed at the New Orleans architecture. But still, it was truly stunning. She liked that Klaus didn’t directly guide her but just allowed her to wander. Soon, they’d found themselves in a bar. The bartender that approached them seemed very familiar with Klaus and when he’d introduced her to Camille, the woman was welcoming.

It didn’t escape her notice how Camille had laid eyes on Klaus for a few seconds too long before walking off to let her and Klaus enjoy their drinks.

Caroline smiles a little at the situation. “You know, she likes you.”

His lips turn up and he sips his whiskey.

“You may not be aware of this, Caroline, but you are on the exceedingly short list of women who have rejected me.” His head turns towards her with a smug smirk. “You should feel lucky, most of those women are dead.”

Caroline rolls her eyes lightheartedly. “So lucky.” She breathes and looks away from him. His chuckle is rich and deep, making her crack a small smile.

“Quite a number of women find me charming, you surely had at one time.”

The statement brings out an instinct in her to say something snarky or quip something a little harsh but she chooses not to. Instead, her teeth catch her bottom lip as she lowers her gaze to the vodka soda. She doesn’t exactly know what to do. All she’s ever done with him was constantly impolitely reject him with statements about who he killed or what bad things he’s done.

Her eyes go up to see the bartender come out from the kitchen in the back. The girl gives them a small glance and Caroline offers her a friendly smile. Camille seems a little surprised by Caroline’s friendliness, almost as if she was expected to be ignored or brushed off. Caroline has no doubt that the crowd that Klaus would spend time with would be most certainly supernatural, thus their lack of interest in simple human servers. Although, Klaus seemed a little keen of her. Truthfully, she didn’t know what to think about it. If it was a few years ago, she would have rather drowned before admitting that she was a tad jealous when it came to Klaus, but she was older and more mature. So, yeah. Maybe she felt a little jealous that the girl’s feelings towards Klaus could be mutual. But she also wasn’t going to be spiteful of it.

Stirring the small straw that floated in her untouched drink, she murmurs, “If you want to go talk to her, there’s nothing stopping you.” Her voice is as neutral as she can make it.

Even now without her vampire senses, she could still feel his fiery gaze in the side of her head. He lets out a low chuckle.

“Camille is a close friend of my family. She’s sacrificed quite a bit to aid my family’s survival and I’ve repaid her loyalty with protection.” He begins. “Our relationship may have developed into somewhat of a complicated friendship since she’s known me, but that is simply it.”

Caroline turns her head towards him and his eyes are as clear blue as ever. “But by no means do I wish to be in anyone else’s company other than yours.”

There’s a brief moment between them where both of their solid barriers were dissolved and their eyes just simply met. They said nothing but their eyes communicated plenty. But, that moment was only brief.

The bell over the door to the bar chimes when it opens, the noise from the street could be heard for a moment before the door closes again. Both Klaus and Caroline are shaken out of their moment when a voice chimes.

“Now, this is interesting.”

Caroline is a little taken aback even though she should have expected to come across another Original. Hell, she wouldn’t doubt that the whole Mikealson clan was crawling around New Orleans at this point. It seemed to be almost like a hub for them.

Klaus is the first to turn in his seat and greet his sister. “Sister, a bit of a surprise to see you on this side of the river. Has Marcel finally bored you enough?” His tone has dramatically changed from the genuine one before to something more smartass-y.

When Caroline scoots on her stool a little to look more properly at the female Original, she notices how annoyed Rebekah gets because of Klaus’ comment.

“No, I came to visit my niece. Whom, in which, has noticed your lack of presence.” Rebekah then gives Caroline a disapproving glare. “But I think I know why.”

Klaus sighs quietly and Rebekah is about to say something but pauses. Her eyes scan Caroline carefully. After a moment, her eyes widen and she flashes towards Caroline, aggressively yelling, “who the bloody hell gave you the cure!?”

Caroline stumbles out of her stool as fast as she can and takes a few steps back. Rebekah is about to get into her face again but Klaus zips in front of her, blocking her way to Caroline.

“I-,” Caroline doesn’t know what to say or how to even start to calm down the Original. She’s not as strong as she once was. One little neck snap and she’ll be done.

“Rebekah.” Klaus growls in warning, earning a glare from his sister before her gaze goes back to the blonde.

“Why do you get the choice? You, of all people?”

Caroline is beyond grateful that no one else was in the bar because she’s sure that there could have been a bloodbath if there were.

Klaus is about to say something but Rebekah beats him to it.

“How is it that you get to have a normal life?”

Those words seemed to trigger something in Caroline. Something emotional.

“You think I want this? Do you think I chose to have a normal life where I’d meet some regular guy, marry him, have a few kids, and work for the rest of my life?” Rebekah frowns and Klaus turns his head just enough to look at her. “I didn’t. I don’t want that life and I didn’t choose to become human again. So, blame me all you want for being a bitch to you or whatever, but don’t blame me because you didn’t get the human life you’ve always wanted.”

It seems like Caroline’s words have an effect on Rebekah because she shrugs her brother’s hand away from her and takes a step back. Caroline can’t exactly know for sure but she thinks that maybe Rebekah can somewhat relate to her. Rebekah had always wanted to be human but was stuck as a vampire. Now, Caroline wants to be a vampire but is stuck as a human.

When Rebekah takes that step back and Klaus is sure she’s not going to try to attack Caroline again, he fully turns his body towards the blonde human. She can’t gauge exactly what he’s thinking but it could have been a cross between surprise and sympathy.

The younger Original looks almost a little guilty when she casts a glance towards Caroline but instead doesn’t say anything before flashing away. As the light breeze wafts over them from Rebekah’s exit, Klaus takes a step forward towards her.

“Caroline.”

She shakes her head. “I-,” her eyes shut for a moment. “Please don’t make me talk about it.”

She fully expects Klaus to struggle with her request but he quickly proves her wrong and gives her a short nod in understanding.

————————

Caroline’s fingers drum silently against the cold metal of the railing she’s stood behind. The city has now been cascaded in darkness but people still mull about on the street beneath her. The very idea of the liveliness of this city brings a smile to her face. The neon lights of shops and street lamps were now lit up to shine down on the passerbyers below, their drunken ramblings slightly muffled due to her human hearing.

She finds that Klaus was right. There was something about this city that not only attracted the party-seeking humans, but also the darker creatures who lurked in the shadows. She may not be a vampire any longer but that doesn’t mean the connection she holds with the darkness was shaken. There is not just history in this city, it is the home of the supernatural. Caroline bets that if she were still a vampire, she could have spotted a couple dozen supernaturals that had walked by in the past thirty minutes she's been up on Klaus’ balcony.

She only hopes it doesn’t attract a different kind of supernatural.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can sense movement just as a figure joins her. Their hand grasps the railing casually and when they sigh, a white cloud escapes their lips from the continuing dropping temperature of the night. He doesn’t attempt to make a move to slide closer to her and she appreciates the space he’s giving her, along with the time of silence.

As they stood in silence, listening to the noises of the city before them, she could recall how nervous she used to get during long periods of silence. She had always tried to fill them up with mindless chatter or something to that nature. But now? She finds that she sort of enjoys it. His presence may be a little nerve-wracking at times of tension but, as of late, Caroline seems to feel at ease knowing he’s just right there- not totally offering her comfort but the reassurance of his presence.

“You’re cold.” His voice murmurs smoothly through the air. It’s only then that she notices the goosebumps that trek along her arms. The light breeze flows around them once more, reminding Caroline that she doesn’t have as much tolerance to the weather as she once had when she was a vampire.

Her eyes lifted towards him to watch as he slid the casual high-collared blazer off just to then gently place it over her shoulders. Caroline’s arms cross and grasp the sides of the coat, pulling it closer to her body before offering him a smile in thanks. Although his eyes seemed to be light, there was a hint of concern to be seen.

“Caroline, what aren’t you telling me?”

The words surprise her, not because he’s asking them, but because he’s asking them now. She should have felt lucky that he hadn’t asked her earlier or even within the first ten minutes she was in New Orleans.

A lot. She thinks.

When she doesn’t speak, he sighs and shifts closer to her.

“You should be aware that I will do everything in my power to keep you safe, but I can’t very well do it if I don’t know any of the details.” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “I understand that these past few years haven’t been as undemanding as you’ve hoped, but you need to tell me something- anything- so that I can help you.”

Caroline contemplates just shrugging it off and telling him there’s nothing to talk about but that would be a lie. A big lie. She came to him for help, slept in his bed, and ate his food. It would have been foolish of her to think that she could take full advantage of his protection and not have to give him a detailed explanation. But, she doesn’t know exactly how to start and how to proceed. There are specifics that he doesn’t want him to know about, but if she were to leave them out, she’s sure that he is intelligent enough to put a few pieces together, or at least tell that she’s leaving a few key details out. She had two options. Either she tells the truth or she omits, telling him that she doesn’t have the courage to give him an explanation. The last option would be the easier route, but one that would most likely drive a wedge between them, thus possibly compromising their safety.

If she were younger, she would have grappled for a third option. But she was older and more mature now. Even though the prospect of what Klaus may think of her afterwards held a sizable weight over her head, she knew that she couldn’t avoid telling Klaus the truth.

“Silas isn’t just chasing me because I helped in the plan to kill him.” She breathes.

Klaus’ eyes blink in surprise, as if he’s shocked that she’s actually opening up to him. But he allows her to continue.

“When you came back to Mystic Falls, I didn’t tell you the whole truth about what happened with Silas. When Stefan lured Silas outside, I was left alone on the far side of the boarding house. Someone had grabbed me and I acted on instinct because I knew Damon, Elena, and Qetsiyah were in the parlor, so I assumed it was Silas.” Caroline looks away from the Original and out towards the night sky. “It turned out to be Amara.” Her eyes slowly drifted back over to him to gauge his reaction. He stood still, eyes just taking her in and processing the information that she was offering him.

“Silas’ one true love.” Her eyes hold guilt and a sadness within them as she remembers the events that occurred nearly five years ago. “She was innocent and I killed her.”

A stray tear begins to form in her eye and bubbles over, making a thin wet trail down her cheek. Klaus’ hand doesn’t move as fast as it normally does when he gently wipes the tear from her face, making sure not to make any moves that she wouldn’t be able to reject. The heat of his palm against her jaw and the pressure it holds gives her an odd sense of comfort that she wouldn’t have expected.

“I don’t know how he found out after he faked his death, but he-,” she begins to struggle to speak, the emotions beginning to take advantage of her. “He approached me in my dorm one day and I’m not sure if he planned it or not, but Tyler happened to walk in.”

Caroline lets out a small exhale to try to keep her emotions slightly underwraps but she can’t help the couple tears that escape her eyes. Turning her head away, she feels a shade of guilt run through her. “He- he killed Tyler right in front of me.” She also tried to explain how after Silas left her with his ultimatum, she had to find a place to bury Tyler and come up with a story for his absence, but she thinks she would have totally broken down if she spoke another word. It didn’t take much longer than a couple seconds before his arms had brought her closer to him and she didn’t shy away from pushing her head into his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his torso.

The heat radiating off of him almost felt like it began to wrap around her, comforting her in her grief. Klaus kept one arm around her back and another in the hair on the back of her head. His head craned down and he gently pressed his lips to her temple. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. She feels the most safe she has ever felt in the past two years in his arms. The sandalwood cologne fills her lungs when her nose digs deeply into his shirt, surely ruining it with her tears but she's not too worried about that right now.

After a few long moments of being wrapped up in his body, he halts the slow brushing of her hair that she had just noticed he was doing. Klaus’ head pulls away to get a better look at her and she tilts her head up to do the same.

“Come. Let’s get you inside.”

Caroline nods and lets Klaus guide her back into his bedroom. He shuts the French doors behind him and closes the cream drapes, the sounds of the city now greatly muffled by the extra barrier. Caroline walks over to the bed. Once she’s sat down, Klaus is already over by the fireplace and starting the fire. She tries to catch her breath. Although she wasn’t sobbing, she still finds it hard to regain herself. A crackle comes from the fireplace and when Klaus stands from his crouched position, she can see the small flames of the fire begin to lick at the wood inside. In no time, Klaus is right there, taking the coat from her shoulders and silently encouraging her to lay down on the bed. She pulls the soft covers over herself as Klaus’ eyes rove over her.

“Will you stay?” The words escape her lips before she can understand what she had said.

Klaus studies her for a moment but his attention is pulled towards the sliding doors that are cracked open just enough for him to see his brother. His brother’s presence now reminds him of the factions meeting they were supposed to attend tonight in light of the recent events between the witches, werewolves, and vampires, but Caroline is in a sensitive emotional position. Although he finds it surprising for her to feel comforted by him, he doesn’t feel as inadequate for the job as he would with anyone else. He decides then what he will do. New Orleans can wait. If anything, his brother is more than equipped with handling tonight’s meeting without him.

His head turns back towards Caroline. The deep blue of his eyes already indicate his answer to her and she slides to the other side of the bed to give him room. Klaus toes off his boots and just before he lays down, his eyes glance up to see the sliding door closing all the way and his brother’s footsteps retreating away.

When he’s settled onto his back, Caroline quickly tucks into his side. The move isn’t unexpected with her trying to seek a source of comfort. He slowly pulls his arm out from under her and instead wraps it around her body, placing his hand just above her hip as she buries herself into his ribcage.

Klaus lays there for a while, listening to the changes in her heart beat and studying the way it slows when she falls asleep. He only allows himself to shut his eyes when he hears his brother return an hour later, feeling more comfortable being asleep when at least one other Original is awake. He won’t take any chances with Caroline. He won’t risk losing her.

-------------------------------------------------

When Caroline wakes up that next morning, she isn’t shocked that she’s alone and the place where he had once been was vacant of his body heat. She never assumed Klaus to be the type of man to sleep in by any means being as paranoid as he usually was but it had seemed like he’d been gone for quite a while. As much as she wants to think that maybe he had some weird bout of inspiration to paint or do whatever artistic thing he prided himself with, she has the better judgement to know it was business related.

From what she could tell, he and his brother were the main one’s calling the shots in the French Quarter. Not unexpected, considering Klaus is, well, Klaus. But he has subtly mentioned from time to time whilst they were out yesterday that there was some tension between a few of the supernatural factions. Caroline imagines that it's more of a regular occurrence and something that comes with ‘ruling’ (Klaus’ words, not her’s) over the supernatural community within New Orleans. Thus, it doesn’t take a genius to understand Klaus must have a decent amount of business to conduct most of the time. She wouldn’t be all too surprised if he was out handing threats out like flyers first thing in the morning.

The mere idea that Klaus has probably been awake for at least a couple hours now prompted her to get motivated for the day. Although she didn’t directly have any plans other than possibly not getting her throat ripped out by Rebekah, she still needed to eat.

It didn’t take her long to get dressed and make her way out of Klaus’ bedroom. But when she made it to the hallway outside of Klaus’ study, she was a little torn on what she should do next. Klaus hadn’t exactly shown her around the Compound so she really only knows the way in and out of the Compound from his living quarters.

There were a few doors on each side of the hallway. She chose the route she was more familiar with and decided to start there. Fearing that she might be interfering in his family’s privacy, she only ventured into the rooms that were already open. She first found a parlor room with dark red couches and a small wet bar, next she found a very extensive library where she read a few of the titles of the books. Some were familiar and some were totally unknown to her, but she imagined that she wouldn’t know any books that were written in other languages like the French one she decided to flip open. After finding a few first editions, she thought it best to move on and keep her human, clumsy hands away from books that could be worth more than a couple thousand dollars. When exiting the library and finding the courtyard, she climbed down the stairs and got lucky when she found the kitchen.

Walking over to the fridge, she crosses her fingers that she doesn’t just see blood bags. Upon opening the fridge, she’s satisfied to find a tray of eggs, milk carton, a drawer dedicated to fruits and vegetables, a couple bottles of water, some condiments in the door slots, and a couple other assorted food items that were relatively healthy. She would do just about anything right now to satisfy her sweet tooth that she woke up with but she’s also grateful that the Mikealson’s even have food in general, so she’ll take what she can get. So, Caroline takes the grape jelly out of the door slot and then goes to search for bread. Surely if they had food in the fridge, they had to have some non-refrigerated items too, right?

Looking through a couple of the cabinets, she mentally notes which cabinet held the plates, glassware, coffee grounds, and such. She finally finds the bread and limits herself to two slices. She may be hungry but she’s also human.

Grabbing a plate and spotting the toaster conveniently placed on the counter next to the coffee machine, she places the slices of bread inside.

In that moment, she thinks of the simple weekday mornings just before school. Those so easy and simple times where she had convinced herself could be the worst for her. How wrong she was. Now, she misses those mornings where all she had to worry about was boys and if she was going to pass that week’s pop quiz. In fact, she can even say she misses the times where the worst that could happen was an unexpected visit from a particularly moody Original hybrid in which had a 50/50 percent chance of ending with a pair of toxic hybrid teeth in someone’s throat.

Now, Caroline realizes that Klaus must have either grown to enjoy watching her and her friend’s failed attempts to end his life or preferred to use ‘kid-gloves’ because if he were to kill any of her friends, he knew better than to think she’d ever forgive him. Either way, she feels somewhat lucky in an odd way that he hadn’t reacted as badly as she now knew he could have. Unlike Klaus, Silas had no attraction or reason to extend any amount of mercy towards her, which was extremely terrifying. Silas may be mortal now but he is also a very powerful witch. One that was able to keep up with her when she was still a vampire.

The ding of the toaster brings her out of her reverie. Caroline reaches into the toaster to carefully pull the slice of bread out. The front of her finger grazes the hot metal inside and she pulls it out as quickly as she can on instinct. “Damnit!” She whispers heatedly, knowing there were other vampires within the house. In the process of taking a step back as the pain still sizzles underneath her skin, she could see something in her peripheral vision. Turning her head quickly, she yelps.

“Shit!” She curses, jumping slightly in her own skin when she finds an unexpected figure in the entranceway of the kitchen.

A smirk graces his features and a deep chuckle escapes his lips.

“God, you can’t do that. I can’t exactly sense when you’re creepily stalking me anymore.”

He doesn’t respond but she thinks he gets the point. Klaus walks over to her and easily deposits both slices of toast onto the plate she had out. Fishing out a butter knife from one of the drawers and opening the lid to the jam.

“I’d like to take you somewhere.” His eyes glance over to her as she watches him spread the jam over the slices of toast before placing the used knife into the stainless steel sink. He then slides the plate closer to her and walks back over to the fridge to put the jar of jam away.

Caroline takes the plate and takes a couple steps over to the island counter where a couple stools sat. She sits and takes a bite out of her toast. “Now?”

“As soon as you are ready.” He then grins at her, clearly hiding something from her. “Although, I recommend you wear something you don’t mind getting dirty.”

----------------------------

They’ve been in the car maybe five minutes before Caroline began to question him on where he was taking her.

“Seriously?”

His eyebrow rises and he glances towards her with lighthearted eyes that tell her he was certainly enjoying her irritation. Caroline just resorts to glaring at him but it doesn't hold nearly the same weight that it had a few years ago when she’d glare at him then and he clearly knows it. Klaus’ eyes return to the road and Caroline sighs, settling further into the leather seat of his luxury SUV.

“If you can’t tell me where we’re going, can you at least tell me something?” She asks, thinking that maybe he would want to play the ‘hint game.’

A sly smirk puts the edge of his lips up. Instead of giving into her, he decides to veer off into a different topic altogether.

“Do you recall the period of time when Alaric helped train the doppelganger in the ridiculous hope that it would somehow keep her safe from my siblings and myself?”

Caroline is a little taken aback by his question. Obviously, she remembers. Elena had once tried to get her to join her and Alaric. What surprised her about it though was that he even knew about it in the first place because Elena had thought they’d kept it all ‘hush hush’ specifically so he wouldn’t find out. Although, Caroline now thinks that he would most likely know from pulling the information out of Tyler or having a hybrid tail them once in a while. Both scenarios are equally as realistic.

The Land Rover slows and turns down a dirt path that is cascaded with tall trees. Clearly, he was taking her somewhere in the countryside.

“Yeah, but I don’t see how that’s relevant unless you plan to drag me out into the middle of the woods and kill me.” She turns her head to look at him. “Because I will put up one hell of a fight.”

His chuckle is low but not in a dark way. The blue in his eyes gets a little brighter when he parks the car at the edge of a large clearing. There’s a few fallen logs and if Caroline squints just enough, she can make out the shape of a couple makeshift tents a couple hundred yards away. She feels the Original turn towards her after shutting the car off and she looks his way.

“Trust me, sweetheart, if I were to make you my victim, I wouldn’t need to take you to the Bayou.” The tone in his voice is as casual as if he were talking about dinner plans and the smile he dotes is edging on the side of diabolical.

She raises a brow and turns away from him as she opens the passenger side door. “Because that makes me feel reassured.” Caroline knows his lips tug higher up into his cheeks, enjoying her slight sarcasm and their back-and-forth banter. Sometimes she thinks he likes making her angry, she can’t really think of a reason why, but he seems to always draw that emotion out of her at times when he doesn’t really have to.

Upon getting out, she notices he rounds the back of the car and opens the tailgate. Klaus pulls two objects out and closes the tailgate before meeting her a few paces away from the black vehicle. Her eyes widen a hair and her eyebrows rise dramatically when she sees what he took out for the back of his SUV.

He holds two long medieval looking swords, one in each hand. Stepping up to her, he readjusts his grip on one of the swords and holds it by the blade, offering it to her by the leather wrapped handle. She physically hesitates, clearly confused about what his end goal was.

Klaus seems amused by her reaction and tips his head to the side.

“Go on, it won’t bite you.”

Her eyes shift from the sword in his hands and his eyes. Slowly, she grasps the handle of the sword and Klaus lets go. Caroline struggles for a moment, the sword being heavier than she had anticipated. Not knowing what to do with it, she lets the end of it sit on the ground.

On the other hand, Klaus holds his sword by the handle and holds it out diagonally in the air.

“Strike it.” He orders.

Caroline does nothing except look at him strangely before rolling her eyes. “Seriously? You brought me out here for your own amusement? Newsflash, I’m not exactly some minion you can drag out to weird places and play ‘swords’ with.”

Klaus sighs and lowers the sword down, expertly thrusting the point into the grassy ground.

“This is no game, love. As much as I’d like to be showing you my city, I have a vested interest in your safety and to keep you protected. From what I have come to realize within the past years in residing in New Orleans, I can’t be in multiple places at once. Thus, why we are here.” His empty hand motions along as he speaks and his eyes glance around the clearing at it’s mention. “I’d like to be able to say that I will be by your side at all times, but that would simply be false. Which is why I think it is pertinent and rather of astronomically great import that you have some ability to defend yourself.”

Caroline glances down at the sword in his hand. “With a sword?” She asks with a stifled laugh, almost amused by the thought of using a sword in an actual realistic fight.

“No, but it gives you a starting place and the ability to learn how to use spare objects as weapons.”

Klaus then raises the sword again and nods. “Now, strike it.”

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

There are nearly FORTY THOUSAND AO3 stories in the MDZS universe, and I am just a single person with limited time, so....  Here’s a bit of y’all doing my work for me!

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Mojo, I know it'd probably be recced before, but I have to recommend stiltonbasket's Twelve Moons and a Fortnight. It has made me squee of cuteness, hold my breath with suspense, marvel over the worldbuilding and character interactions, and just awed me at how well every original piece of lore and HC ties back to canon. I cried over it, only to cry laughing the next chapter. it kept me going through an entire year of lockdown and is finally coming to an end, and the resolution was magnificent.

*[I’m subscribed to this and keep waiting for Part One to be completed, but instead later parts keep getting posted:  is it completed but not marked?  I am confused.  And eager to read!]*

Twelve Moons and a Fortnight

by stiltonbasket (G, 267k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  "Let me get this straight. You really want me to stand in for you while you help Jin Ling settle in at Koi Tower?"

"Who else do I have?" Jiang Cheng snaps, ears turning scarlet as Jin Ling tries to pretend he isn't listening. "Father trained you to serve as my deputy, didn't he? And don't say you don't remember, or I'll break your legs."

"Well, yes," Wei Wuxian manages. "Uh. I'll just let Lan Zhan know I'll be at Lotus Pier until you're back at home, then."

Or, the one where Wei Wuxian spends the year before his wedding as Yunmeng Jiang's acting sect leader, and the cultivation world's greatest love story finds its happy ending with the help of three juniors, a teenage romance, and one very involved (and exasperated) younger brother.

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May I recommend fielty by milkpunch a sort of AU where lwj in order to save his sect from being destroyed by nine after wen rouhans assasination goes to work as a guard to Jin zixuan where he meets wwx the right hand of Jin guanguao... ~ @pastashouldbeeatenwithafork

Fealty

by milkpunch (E, 84k, wangxian)

Summary:  Before, there had been two reigning kingdoms. Both claimed to be blessed by the sun, but with vastly differing views. One, under the name of Wen, was washed red with blood and violence, its soldiers fierce and stoked with a fiery blaze. The other, under the name of Jin, was bathed in golden light and glory, its soldiers proud and heavy with coin and prestige. The two kingdoms went to war for the true honour of having the sun’s blessing, fighting for many long years with many lives lost.

Jin Guangshan, emperor of the Golden Sun Palace, found that the sun favoured him more.

To prevent his kingdom from being crushed, Lan Zhan, second heir to the Lan kingdom, exchanges his freedom for that of servitude to the Jin kingdom. He is appointed as Jin Zixuan's personal guard, but there's more on his plate than just keeping the Jin heir safe. The Golden Sun Palace is not all that it seems, and the dazzling lives of the royals are less perfect than they appear.

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Hey, I was wondering if I could rec a fic to you. My bestie wrote it for the Lunar New Year Wangxian gift exchange and it definitely did not receive the attention it deserves. It's a really fun mermaid/arranged marriage au! ~ @leahlisabeth

More Than This Provincial Wife

by ApprenticedMagician (T, 6k, wangxian)

Summary:  The negotiations surrounding the Lan & Jiang alliance through marriage encountered a few snags in the beginning.

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I love your blog! I saw a recent post where you listed some rec's from other people? [Thank you!  And yes, I always appreciate and am happy to share your recs!]  I just read the WIP A Corpse Called By Name jaemyun and LOVED it! It's a zombie apocolypse AU, where Wei Ying gets bitten by a zombie.... and I don't want to spoil anything from there, but it is amazing! No pressure to put it in your blog, but wanted to send a note just in case. Thanks for all you do!

A Corpse Called By Name

by jaemyun (not rated, 37k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  A continuation of zombie drabble!

She loses her brother in a hoard of the undead.

She finds a corpse wearing his face in a convenience store.

The corpse calls her name.

~*~

Hi! I was wondering if I could rec this short fic that I recently found and really liked! The narrative is an inner monologue and I think it captures lwj really well :)

binding me in spells (till my heart's devoured)

by gaysgaysgays (G, <1k, wangxian)

Summary:  His scars are a reminder of his hurt, a reminder that he had healed.

(or a study of lan zhan's scars)

~*~

I found a fic I had recently asked you about, so I thought I'd share it with you: Seasons of Falling Flowers by merakily (http://archiveofourown.org/works/28522326). I rediscovered it completely by accident after listening to spinifex's excellent podfic adaptation. This is the fic where Lan Qiren despises Wei Wuxian until Wei Wuxian catches a cold and Lan Qiren find out about his golden core. That part is about 3/4 of the way through. The fic is wonderful and shows a rigid but surprisingly introspective Lan Qiren. ~ @clmoryel [Oh!  I just read this one yesterday!  Here’s my bookmark.]

Seasons of Falling Flowers

by merakily (G, 40k, wangxian, lan qiren & wei wuxian, podfic)

Summary:  Like a parasite, Wei Wuxian has this way of growing on people when you least expect it.

Over the seasons, Lan Qiren slowly pieces back together his relationship with Wangji and learns to like Wei Wuxian in the process.

(“Will you rejoin your sect?” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Lan Qiren regrets his wording.

He is not surprised when Wangji’s eyes narrow, flashing with offence. “There is no need to rejoin what one has never left. I did not turn my back on my sect. My sect turned their backs on me.”)

~*~

Hi! Can I rec a fic? "bring you home" by Alasse_Irena on AO3 is a modern AU and is one of the most beautiful and atmospheric fics I have read. Thanks for you work running this blog! I have new Wangxian fics to read <3

bring you home

by Alasse_Irena (T, 28k, wangxian)

Summary:  Wei Ying rents a run-down cottage in a small town by the sea, looking for a quiet place to hide after the war.

Lan Zhan has always dreamed of the ocean. He returns to the town where he was born, and where his parents died, to find out why.

Instead, they find each other.

~*~

Good morning lady mojo, I hope you’re having a good day! I wanted to rec a fic, Breathing Firestorm by ladyshadowdrake. It’s 111k and great but barely has any love, which is unfair. You mentioned it in the last ‘in a mood for’ post but I think it should have more of a shoutout because it’s a lot of fun and I liked it a lot. Have a great day ♥️  [Oh!  I was subscribed to this one and saw it had been recently finished.  It’s def. on my list!]

Breathing Firestorm

by ladyshadowdrake (M, 111k, wangxian)

Summary:  After years of a mad quest, Wen Ruohan is finally given proof of a powerful creature living among mortals. He is delighted to find that it truly believes itself to be only a boy named “Wei Wuxian.”

While Wen Ruohan tries to unlock Wei Wuxian’s secret, the sects unite against him. If he can achieve his goal before they arrive, even the combined might of the cultivation world would not be enough to humble him. Meanwhile, Lan Wangji dreams of Wei Wuxian in the Cold Pond Cave, and works tirelessly to rescue him from Wen Ruohan’s clutches. No one is prepared for what awaits the allied sects in Nightless City at the conclusion of the war, and it very well might mean the end of the world as they know it.

~*~

Hi Mojo, firstly thank you for all the hard work you put into running this blog, I’ve found so many fics that I probably would have never come across if it wasn’t for your fic finders posts and your personal review posts.  [Aw, thank you!]

I don’t know if you’ve read this fic before or if it’s been mentioned before on your blog (I’ve done a quick search of your blog and couldn’t see it, so if I’ve missed it I apologise!) but if you’ve got a fic rec post coming up, I would suggest “The shapes a bright container can contain” by litbynosun.

It’s a case fic about 16k words long and set after canon. Whilst it’s not the main focus of the story it does delve slightly into chronic illness of wwx (the ailments of mxy’s body) and lwj (his continuous treatment of his scars) which might cover a few requests in the IITMF posts in future.

Thanks again for all the hard work you do! ~ @dulachodladh

the shapes a bright container can contain

by litbynosun

M, 17k, wangxian

Summary:  "Lan Zhan, look at this," Wei Wuxian calls. "They don't have organs, but they're all… fuzzy."

He gently strokes the corpse's arm -- it's covered in soft, pigmentless downy hair, like a rabbit. Lan Wangji crouches next to him and nods. "Lanugo," he says. Wei Wuxian raises one eyebrow. "They were malnourished for quite a while before death," Lan Wangji elaborates. Wei Wuxian scans the bodies again. Indeed, they both have sunken cheeks, and their abdomens are empty of both organs and fat padding. “That’s a question,” he says. “Did they starve to death, and have their bodies desecrated after they were already deceased? Or were they murdered, and simply starving at the same time?” "We should stay," Lan Wangji tells him. This is not an answer to his question. It is an offer to search for answers.

Or: Wei Wuxian and his family solve a ghost haunting. Wei Wuxain's old enemy, societal injustice, rears its head again.

[prettywordsyouleft]

To Be Continued - Part 1

Summary: As an author, you had created Brian Kang for your current trilogy series to represent the ultimate man that everyone would love, along with Charli Evers - your female protagonist. What you hadn’t expected was for him to find a way out of the story and begin shaping up your world instead

Pairing: Brian Kang x female writer (ft. Park Sungjin)

Genre: writer au / romance / fantasy

Warnings: fictional characters coming to life / a bit of angst here and there / Sungjin as a cop (or does that only affect me?) >_>

A/N: this story idea was created from receiving two prompts for Brian in the YouxIdol drabble game I was completing this year. In this part, you can find prompt #186, “You don’t have to answer right away. I’d wait an eternity for you.”

Word count: 2252

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue

Brian cupped her cheek tenderly with one hand, smoothing out any worried lines across her forehead with the other. He smiled encouragingly, tears threatening to spill from his eyes with his heightened emotions. “You don’t have to answer right away.”

“I don’t?” Charli breathed back, knowing that her response to his question was already formed. Yet it wasn’t the right time for any love confessions right now. Despite this, her answer rushed to the back of her throat, where she tried to swallow it back down repeatedly.

Brian already knew and nodded softly to let her know of this. “I’d wait an eternity for you.”

“Isn’t that a bit too cringe-worthy?” you wondered, pausing to read the words upon the screen with a frown. It wasn’t out of character for Brian Kang and Charli Evers. And it certainly wasn’t the first cheesy line you’d thrown into Captivated either. Still, you mulled over the scene a little longer, deciding whether or not it should be removed.

“What would Charli do in response?” you asked out loud to no one in particular, a flurry of action from your fingers taking place immediately. You followed the scene until completion before taking a break, switching out of the word document and over to your Discord server.

Smiling as you scrolled through the new comments about the upcoming sequel you were in the later stages of writing for Brian and Charli, you let out a rattle of a cough from your chest, groaning at your illness dampening your mood.

“I’m trying to finish this final chapter tonight,” you spoke out into the universe, casting your eyes to the heavens for effect. “I’ve battled through this cold for a week now. It won’t take me down just yet!”

Reaching forward for more cold and flu medicine, you swallowed the capsules down with a painful gulp of water and then felt your forehead. It was hotter than before, though you waved it off as you answered a couple of messages and returned to the final part of the story.

Captivated was the second story in your new trilogy series since your last series Destined had become an overnight sensation. When you sat down to pen the soulmate idea into something more than thoughts in your head, you hadn’t expected the tale to touch so many people over the world. Nor had you believed you would follow it up with To Love You, Forever, And Always either.

You originally felt that Destined was the reason why Brian and Charli’s first story Encounter was easily shared around. The protagonists had their own charms though and you could tell the fan base for this series was different from the last. They were just as eager, however, to find out when the pair would shake free from the star-crossed lovers’ trope and finally give in to the evident love they had for one another.

“Part three it’ll be,” you surmised proudly and somewhat exhaustedly after typing The End onto the electronic manuscript. Leaning back in your chair, you finally allowed yourself to succumb to the illness plaguing you. In a moment of disillusion, your mind conjured up Brian standing before you with concern etched in his eyes. You let the novel scene play out in your head, wishing he was actually here to help you out of your writing office, down to your bedroom and tuck you into bed.

Swinging gently from side to side in your desk chair, you hummed with delight. Brian Kang was your biggest self-indulgence character. You had created Park Jinyoung in Destined to infuriate your main protagonist, but Brian was the ultimate fictional guy. He was playful and kind, caring and thoughtful. He knew when Charli needed him to stand up in her weak moments, and he fought for what he felt was right even when all odds were against him. He also allowed Charli to see his vulnerability and his honesty, gaining him many fans around the world. And if all that wasn’t enough, Brian Kang was incredibly attractive.

You had really created the holy grail of a dream man.

Laughing to yourself in your sick-induced state, you smiled lazily. “Dream men are just that, Y/N. Brian Kang would never exist in this world.”

You nodded to yourself, agreeing with the proclamation, feeling more single in the moment as you did so. It was funny really, you were a successful author of Young Adult romance novels and yet you hadn’t experienced the touch of a man, let alone any ardent confessions since your university days.

“Right, it’s time for bed,” you decided before your mood plummeted further into despair. However, your limbs felt too heavy to move and so you simply closed your eyes once more, hoping a little nap would help you regain some energy to head off to bed later on.

When you opened your eyes next, you found yourself in your darkened bedroom, smiling gently at bringing yourself to bed sometime during the night that you couldn’t remember. Sitting up slowly, you allowed your gaze to adjust to the dim morning light filtering through the small gap in the curtain, before reaching onto your nightstand for your phone.

You blinked. Instead of finding the device, you saw a kitchen bowl and face cloth resting over the edge of it.

Did you bring that with you in the middle of the night? Surely if you had been attempting to bring down your own fever, the face cloth would have been strewn somewhere in among your bedding after falling asleep with it, not neatly placed back upon the side of the bowl. Looking beyond that, you found a bottle of water with a third of the liquid missing. You did vaguely remember sipping on some water overnight, and that eased your mind from your initial confusion.

Shaking your head, and swinging your legs over the side of your bed, you placed your feet in your slippers before padding back into the office in search of your phone. Maybe you had help overnight after all, and you wanted to check if your mother had come over at your request. She had done that one year when you caught a nasty virus and couldn’t cope on your own anymore. Motherly love was definitely needed, and now that you had completed your obligations with Captivated and sent it off to your editor Lily, you would have no restrictions on who entered your creative space.

“Huh,” you said when you saw your laptop screen still open. You had a habit of closing the screen every night after turning the device off and approached it now with some confusion, trying to recollect what you last did the night before. Nothing rose to the surface immediately and you reached for your phone, blindly hitting speed dial on your mother’s number. And when her greeting rang down the receiver, you were more than perplexed.

“Hey, did you come by last night?”

“No, why?” she answered and then gasped. “Y/N, you sound awful! Did you keep working even though you were sick?!”

“You didn’t come here?” you repeated, fingertips reaching for the sticky note upon the computer screen. “Maybe it was Lily.”

“Lily is out of the country isn’t she?” your Mum reminded and you blinked several times before focusing enough to read the note you held.

 You shouldn’t have worked so hard to complete it! Your health is important too. How will I cope if you get any worse? Make sure you rest up well and drink a lot of fluids. I need my best writer in tip top shape to see where my world continues.

I made you breakfast. It’s not much, but make sure you eat before you sit down at this desk, hm?

- B.

 Dropping the note, along with letting your mouth fall ajar momentarily, you stuttered out a hasty farewell to your mum before hanging up the phone and looking to the doorway. Cautiously, you walked through your house to the kitchen where you stopped in your tracks at seeing a tea towel covering something on the bench. Gingerly peeling it back when you finally approached it, you gasped when you found several dishes underneath, along with instructions on how to heat it up.

For a split second, your mind conjured Brian up again, imagining him in your kitchen preparing all this. It would totally be just like him to make sure Charli was well fed to regain her energy from any illness.

But, you weren’t Charli Evers.

In fact, you hadn’t even based her off your personality at all, rather, a close online friend of yours who you admired a lot. So, whilst Brian would definitely go to all this trouble for Charli, you sure were clutching at straws thinking of yourself in the same situation.

Who came into your home then?

Distractedly, you heated the porridge and brewed up the tea the mystery person had prepared as well. You carried the tray of food over to your dining table when it was done and sat down before taking your first mouthful.

And then you mulled over who could possibly step into your house that had the initial B.

Maybe it wasn’t a B, you concluded when you realised no one had access to your house with that letter, even as a surname. Climbing back to your feet, you rushed to your office where you had discarded the first note and held it up to inspect the handwriting.

“It could be an R,” you mentioned out loud, then shook your head immediately. Even if the handwriting was looser than most that you knew of, it couldn’t be anything other than a B.

After examining it for a few minutes, you sat down with a huff. You’d never seen the handwriting before.

You didn’t know whether or not to be alarmed.

Had there been an intruder overnight?

Jumping back up, you persevered through the dizziness that plagued you from moving so fast, heading down the hallway to the front door. The chain was still latched and there was no sign of forced entry. Again, making your way to the back door, everything was in order.

As was every possession you owned – minus the kitchen where the food had been prepared. But even then, the dishes that had been used were rinsed and stacked by the sink.

You jumped when you heard a sudden mewl at your feet and clutched at your heart, before stooping down to pick up your cat Binks. The black cat nuzzled into you affectionately before meowing again. “I guess you want to be fed, huh?”

Walking around the counter, you stopped when you found his bowl with some food remaining. You knew Binks wouldn’t leave food overnight. Glancing at the cat, you frowned. “Who did this, Binks?”

The feline merely yawned and settled down to nap in your arms. It certainly brought the saying, cat’s got your tongue, to mind and you rolled your eyes at the infuriating situation.

Sitting down on your couch, you stared at the wall ahead of you as you tried to find an answer to all the evidence. Stroking the purring animal in your arms, you nodded determinedly.

“The only answer is that I did it in a sleep-induced state,” you announced and Binks opened his eyes to look up at you before rolling around to start licking at his back leg. You sighed. “Right, Binks?”

You were certain your cat thought you were insane. However, it was all you could find to be the answer.

“I got up and I took myself to the kitchen and prepared the ice water to cool down the fever. And went to bed. Then maybe I got up again, which is when I placed the cloth on the bowl and prepared the food. I washed my dishes, including the ones I had piling up from being too busy with work and-”

Binks leapt from your lap then, sauntering down the hallway from your side. Getting up to follow him, you ended up back in your home office, where he pounced up onto your desk, standing on the keys to your laptop. “Hey! Get off!”

Swatting the cat away from the device, you noticed that it hadn’t been turned off overnight. That was not like you at all. Logging into your account, you sat down in your desk chair and shifted back suddenly when you found a new document open.

 I bet you’re in disbelief about now, right? I guess I would be too. It wasn’t you who looked after you all night long, and did your dishes. Wow, you get behind in things when you’re focused on writing.

Don’t worry. I didn’t look around - much.

Your fever went down over a couple of hours whilst I moved back and forth helping you out. It’s the least I can do after you’ve spent so much time with me. Well, we’ve yet to officially meet.

One day.

- B (your biggest fan)

PS. I fed Binks. He really does have quite the personality.

 “Okay!” you sounded in an octave higher, laughing a little to yourself at the same time. “Someone was definitely here. Who is B and how does this person know so much personal information?!”

You were too preoccupied to realise the document to Captivated was still open behind the other one.

And instead of saying The End as it once had, it had been deleted and replaced with To Be Continued.

_________________

Part 2

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

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[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 - 

[just-a-poor-boy-queen]

Part 23 of Jimercury Kid series

‘Freddie?’ Phoebe quietly called out as he poked a cautious head around the singer’s bedroom door. ‘Mary’s here to see you.’

There was no response from the frontman. His face remained buried in his pillow, his weeping silent but obvious by the gentle trembling of his shoulders. Jim was by his side, one hand gently rubbing up and down the Persian’s bare back as he silently comforted him.

‘My baby…’ Freddie whispered, the only words he had been able to say since Khaleel was literally ripped from his arms.

‘Shh, love.’ Jim murmured, stroking his husband’s hair, and shooting Phoebe a hopeless look. ‘I think she should come back later.’

‘That’s what I said.’ Replied Phoebe, shoulders sagging in defeat. ‘But she’s unusually insistent today.’

Another sob from Freddie. The hand that was desperately clutching Khaleel’s old, battered triceratops toy tightened severely.

‘I’ll go.’ Jim said finally, leaning down and gently kissing the back of Freddie’s neck. Before he could rise from the mattress, he felt Freddie grab his hand and turned to see two dark eyes staring at him fearfully, still red-rimmed from all his crying. Losing Khaleel served only to intensify Freddie’s already severe abandonment issues; Jim couldn’t so much as use the toilet without the singer panicking, convinced he’d never see him again.

‘I’m coming back, sweetheart.’ Jim leaned down, brushing a kiss against Freddie’s lips. ‘I promise. I’m not leaving you, not ever. Phoebe will stay here with you until I get back, okay?’

Freddie didn’t look like he believed him, but he released his hand regardless and threw his head back onto the pillow to continue mourning his child. Fighting back his own tears, Jim sent a thankful nod to Phoebe before leaving the bedroom and descending the staircase.

He found Mary in the lounge, sitting anxiously in one of the armchairs with her coat still on and her purse clasped in her hands. When Jim walked into the room, the disappointment on her face was evident; she had clearly been seeking to speak with Freddie and Freddie alone.

‘He’s in no state to talk.’ Jim said gently but firmly, before the woman could say anything. ‘I’m sorry, but you should really come back some other time.’

He expected her to argue with him – Mary wasn’t one for being confrontational but when it came to Freddie she made an exception – but she remained calm, her mouth pressed in a thin line as she fiddled with the purse on her lap.

‘If I can’t speak to Freddie, can I please speak to you? I just need to speak to someone.’

Jim knew he should have rebuffed her, told her to leave immediately so he could get back to consoling his distraught husband. But the expression on her face was so downcast, he didn’t have the heart to turn her away. He nodded tiredly, last night’s lack of sleep finally catching up with him as he mumbled something about putting the kettle on and shuffled towards the kitchen to start preparing them both tea.

As he waited for the kettle to boil, he took a moment to lean against the counter, staring determinedly up at the ceiling, blinking away tears of grief and exhaustion. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could cope with all of this. Khaleel’s absence had left a massive hole in the lives of everyone at Garden Lodge and the aftereffects were damning. He barely recognised Freddie anymore. For seven days, his husband had barely said a word to him, barely eaten or left his bedroom. For seven days, their lives had been a living hell.

The woman from social services hadn’t beaten around the bush. She made it clear that there was no guarantee that Khaleel would be returned to them. The worst part was the satisfied glint in her eye as she said it.

‘Everyone thinks I did it.’ A soft voice said from behind him, and Jim turned to see Mary standing in the doorway, her purse still clutched in her hands. Her face was pale, completely devoid of any colour and her entire body was shaking as she attempted to compose herself.

‘What do you mean?’ Jim asked, though he already knew.

‘They all think I called them.’ Mary’s voice wavered, her eyes looking everywhere but Jim’s own. For one horrible moment, the Irishman thought she might actually be sick. ‘I didn’t, Jim, I swear on my life. You have to believe me, I didn’t call-’

‘Mary, sit down.’ Jim took her hand and guided her over to the kitchen table, drawing out a chair and taking her purse from her hands. Once he was certain that she wasn’t going to collapse, he returned to the counter to finish making the tea and placed a steaming mug in front of the woman’s quivering form. ‘Just take it easy. No one’s accusing you of anything.’

Mary’s twitching hands curled around the hot cup, and she took a deep breath, a pink flush crossing her cheeks from the heat, making her look a bit less ghostly. Once she had appeared to calm down, she carefully took a sip of her drink.

‘I know you all think it was me.’ She finally met Jim’s gaze, silently begging for reassurance. ‘I can see it in your eyes, even Freddie’s. Surely he knows I’d never do that to him?’ She reached over and clasped Jim’s hand in her own, her grip almost painful. ‘I’d never do that to you. Please tell me you believe me.’

Jim wasn’t sure what to believe anymore. He would be lying if he said it hadn’t crossed his mind that Mary might have been involved. Out of all their friends, she was the one with the motive. Maybe this was a last-ditch attempt to drive he and Freddie apart, some sort of twisted revenge for Freddie leaving her.

But he quickly dismissed the idea; as far as he was concerned, that was all in the past and they had moved on from it. He and Mary had had their differences, but she’d never do this.

She was his friend now. He trusted her.

‘I believe you, Mary.’ He replied softly, gently squeezing her hand back until she relaxed. ‘I know you wouldn’t do this, and Freddie does too. Everyone’s just so fucking stressed at the moment and they’re looking for someone to blame.’ He used his free hand to lift his own mug and take a long swig. ‘If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.’

‘Don’t say that, Jim.’

‘I shouldn’t have let things get out of hand. We were arguing over wine, for fuck’s sake. I should have just walked away.’

‘We’d all had a lot to drink, Jim. It was a stupid mistake made in the heat of the moment. Besides, it wasn’t as if Khaleel was there to see it. He was in bed, asleep.’

Jim shook his head, eyes threatening to spill tears. He felt he was solely to blame. He usually prided himself in his ability to walk away from such quarrels but that night, fuelled by both alcohol and his own stubbornness, he was fed up with being walked all over and fought back.

His refusal to back down could very well have cost them their darling boy.

‘Jim?’

Mary’s voice tore him away from his thoughts. She suddenly took both his hands, her touch feather light as she held onto them, thumbs extending out in a comforting stroke across each of his knuckles. ‘I’ve never seen Freddie as happy as he has been since he met you. He can finally be himself, live his true life. I admit, I was sceptical at the start; I’ve seen him hurt so many times and I was convinced you were no different from the others. But after seeing what you both went through, how you stuck by him through his illness, I realised how wrong I was. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him, as well as Khaleel. That little boy is so lucky to have you two as parents, and if social services can’t see that then, as Freddie would say, fuck them.’

Jim snorted, though he looked like he was about to burst into tears. He held onto Mary’s hands as if they were a lifeline.

‘You’ll get him back.’ She said it so tenderly, Jim almost believed her. ‘I know you will. Khaleel will come home.’

Jim envied the faith she had in her own words. He had already resigned himself to the fact that society would never be on their side; that he and Freddie would forever be looked upon as “perverted homosexuals,” incapable of raising a child. Social services would do whatever they could to make sure Khaleel stayed with a “normal” family, regardless of the boy’s own happiness. As much as it killed him to think about it, he knew the reality was that it was more than likely that they would never see their precious bijou again.

‘Thank you, Mary.’ Jim whispered, lifting her hand and softly kissing it.

Yeah okay so Mary is apparently not a *bad* person in this universe, or at least not anymore. Looks like we were wrong, anon. Lol.

Firstly, Freddie and Jim crying in bed for their baby broke my heart😭😭 They deserve to have their baby with them, cuddle with him and raise him together. Fuck the homophobia that's doing this to them.

Secondly, I wasn't expecting Mary here, and certainly not being so open. But I like how you have acknowledged her shitty behaviour in the past, and the fact that whilst things are civil between her and Jim (maybe slightly more than civil), the shadow of past incidences still linger on. I mean, I usually do not read canon-ish fics that completely erase what an arsehole Mary Austin is, especially if she features prominently. But I am loving the almost real approach you're taking to etch your characters, and as I've said before, showing how they may have grown in such a situation. I still have doubts about Ms Austin redeeming herself had Freddie lived, but in the context of this story, I really like the arc you've given her.

Also, I am LOVING the angst lmao. Even though it's breaking my heart, my angst loving self is really enjoying this hahaha.

And now, most importantly, I hope you're doing better, my dear. There were a lot of messages of support for you, and I just hope that you realise how loved and cherished you are in this community💙

(More drabbles by writer anon)