#rated T but sneaked in mature scenes

[animasola86]

Sick minds hahahah omg the cringe!

Inspired by this reblog by @esolean, I thought back to my days on fanfiction.net, and how ridiculously vague I wrote "mature scenes" (compared to how explicitly I write today).

Here's a few (screenshotted) snippets from my Tom/Ginny fanfic Unfinished Business (which is, ironically, unfinished since 2008). [Please ignore the giant font, I am practically blind XD]

(Those were from chapter 9 if you for some reason want to read more.)

I recently (before my plunge into the HL fandom) edited the story for typos and whatnot, and added a little more details (believe it or not, before that it was even more vague!), but still, it's nothing compared to how I write today.

I mean it's not bad (if I'm allowed to toot my own horn here), but I think I prefer a little bit more details to be honest, not having to squint and re-read certain parts to get what's going on...

(From chapter 13. I added the "slipped inside" in my recent edit, it wasn't there initially, you'd have to really imagine the rest...)

I really wish I'd still know where I wanted to go with that story, so I could finally continue/finish it, but alas, it's been a long while. (Also the Tom I wrote was slightly too OOC at times... actually, Ginny was too.)

But those were the days of good old fanfiction.net.

(I really appreciate the tag system of AO3 though, you know exactly what you get instead of wading through the vast wasteland of maybe possibly finding a fanfic that suits your needs! And apparently I never found the really good stuff because this is how I wrote back then, too poetic for my own good because I didn't know any better XD)

[destieltropecollection]

DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 28 | Canon Compliant

from the ashes | @demonmary

Rating: General Word Count: 1,095 Main Tags/Warnings: Hell Rescue , Grace-Soul Bonding , Pre-Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising , POV Castiel, Religious Imagery & Symbolism Summary: It was his belief prior to that moment that Creation was an act of God, His and His alone; yet here Castiel was. Not God - but one of his angels - breathing careful life into the lungs of a man.

Love Me As An Inanimate Object | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,195 Main Tags/Warnings: Episode: s07e01 Meet the New Boss, Missing Scene, Canon Compliant, Castiel as God (Supernatural), Angst Summary: Dean attempts to summon Cas in order to nicely ask if he'll please stop killing people. It... could've gone worse than it does.

Hydrogen Stars And The Design Of The Universe | @aaronthe8thdemon

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,788 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Episode: s04e16 On the Head of a Pin (Supernatural), Pre-Slash, Accidental Bonding, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Castiel Watches Over Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Missing Scene Summary: “So what’s. Uh. The design of the universe or whatever?” is what Dean comes up with as he’s rubbing his face dry on the pillowcase. It seems like something an angel would know a lot about. “Incomprehensible to humans as a whole.” Fuck’s sake.

Coming Down | @notastupidbird

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,977 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Season/Series 05, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Power Bottom Dean Winchester, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Light Angst, Sex in/on the Impala (Supernatural), Rain Sex, Anal Sex, Riding, POV Dean Winchester Summary: It’s only the second time they’ve done this and the first without the threat of “last night on Earth” hanging over them, so Dean still concentrates on studying Cas’ face for those sweet little micro-expressions that Dean’s hips are working out of him. He goes slow, grinding back and forth in a slick, rolling motion like they have all the time in the world. They don’t. - + - While Sam sleeps, Dean and Cas sneak off to the backseat of the Impala.

Yes, Dean | @whichstiel

Rating: Mature Word Count: 2,788 Main Tags/Warnings: Stuck in the Middle (With You) Episode Coda, Tattoo kink Summary: Dean stares over at Cas. The angel is perched on one of the double beds examining his blood and black-goo stained clothes. As he watches, Cas presses a careful hand against his side over the healed spear wound. He looks like he's trying to read the dictionary upside down and in the mirror. Dean clears his throat and leans back from where he's standing over Sam's research. “You okay there, man?” he asks. “Yes, Dean.” Cas's reply is terse.

Wait For Me... | @deanabean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,389 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Compliant, Post-Episode AU: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, in this house we don't believe in s15ep20, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Fix-It: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Fix-It sorta - Freeform, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Inspired by Hadestown, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Hopeful Ending Summary: "It's an old song! It's an old tale from way back when And we're gonna sing We're gonna sing We're gonna sing it again!" _____ They were here before, he felt it , lived it, had to come form the other side of it... and he's gonna do it again and again and again... This time, they gonna make it through. because this time, they're truly free. this time, he's gonna get Cas back... He heard that melody before, what follows it though this time around?!

que sera sera | @hauntedpearl

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,855 Main Tags/Warnings: Canonverse, Mutual Pining, Angst, Hopeful ending, Cuddling/Snuggling, Season 13/14, Cas POV Summary: Castiel and Dean steal away to snuggle every once in a while and talk about things. Set somewhere after Tombstone and before Byzantium.

no proof, one touch | @watchinghimrakeleaves

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5,389 Main Tags/Warnings: canon compliant, dean winchester in heaven, castiel in heaven, love confessions Summary: When Castiel learns that Dean has entered heaven, he's determined to avoid him to save them both the pain of dealing with his confession. Dean is equally as determined to find him, leading him to put up signs for Cas anywhere he thinks the angel might be.

so much smoke in a hall of mirrors | @autisticandroids

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6,235 Main Tags/Warnings: non-consensual voyeurism, top!cas, some general ickiness re: consent even though no one's consent is actually violated, season six, angel civil war, lonely cas, dean/lisa Summary: Humans kiss each other. Angels kill each other. Castiel distracts himself from the war he's losing.

Idiots in love | @castielific

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6,622 Main Tags/Warnings: Human!cas, accidental love confession, dean has a sexual identity crisis, jealous!Dean, gay panic, oblivious!Dean Summary: "So, no God, no wings, no imminent apocalypse, what are your plans now?" Dean tries to make the question sound casual by taking a sip of his beer. "I want to have sex with a man," Cas declares, nibbling at a red vine cherry twist. He barely reacts to Dean spitting his beer all over the table and choking on his sip. (...) Cas tilts his head and adds, "I may need your help with that."

Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx | @readingprofoundbonds

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 9,729 Main Tags/Warnings: John Winchester's Parenting, Spans years Summary: Dean's love language is told not in words, but in songs. In the notes of his favorite rock band and the rhythm of their melodies. His longest unfinished work is composed of Led Zeppelin songs, chosen for the feelings they evoke. It's Dean's life, reflected into one mix and shared carefully in hopes that he would be heard and understood.

Contrition | @norahastuff

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 10,590 Main Tags/Warnings: Mark of Cain, references to s6 and Godstiel, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Takes place midway through s10, Castiel's Angelic Grace Summary: "The room seemed to fade around him, his gaze fixed on the window as he negotiated the church’s inconveniently arranged furnishings to approach it. Dean was vaguely aware of the sting of a pew as it knocked off his hip, but he ignored it, attention singularly focused on the familiar image printed on the glass." Dean stumbles upon a church bearing an image of Castiel, and both Dean and Cas are forced to reflect on a particularly tumultuous period in their relationship. Dean finds that a lot has changed in the intervening years, and maybe it’s finally time to address the things they’ve kept buried for far too long. Though Dean is still struggling with the Mark of Cain, and Cas with his rapidly deteriorating grace, they allow themselves to have this much-needed moment of respite.

Cleanse the Waters | @li-izumi

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 16,416 Main Tags/Warnings: Coda, Hurt/Comfort, POV Outsider, Castiel-centric (Supernatural), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Panic Attacks, Aquaphobia, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, (because canon), Canon Temporary Character Death, Dean's man pain, Dramatic use of dramatic irony, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Episode: s07e02 Hello Cruel World, Episode: s07e17 The Born-Again Identity, Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, Episode: s09e10 Road Trip, Episode: s10e21 Dark Dynasty, Episode: s11e18 Hell's Angel, Episode: s13e04 The Big Empty Summary: Castiel’s multitude of sins haunt him in ways all too human, but water cannot cleanse him when he is drowning in his own guilt. Over the years, he’s tried to ignore his fear--after all, no one needs a broken angel--but he keeps failing and needing to be saved by those he should be saving. If Castiel is ever to be absolved, he must overcome his fear and walk into the water alone.

[bisonofyesterday]

Bison’s Big Cool TURKEY DAY November 2024 Art Dump!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"BISON!" you might be wondering, "DIDN'T YOU ALREADY POST THE SATURN FIVE??", well mysterious strawman voice! I did! however I had not finished Sneak yet, but now (and by now i mean like early this month) I have! Uhm, I also didn't draw this much because of anxious depression over c e r t a i n e v e n t s early in the month, but I DID do these 2 things! Hell how about I talk about my ideas for them while I'm here eh? THE SENSATIONAL SATURN FIVE!: Pop-Science Superhero Celebrity Group! They have a deal with evil corporation Evenfall Entertainment (and partial government funding) and therefore are the stars of a half-edutainment/half-reality show where they ALSO fight glamorous crime!

Atom Ace: (Howard Hubble) brilliant inventor and total prick, a freak mutation has given Howard total control over his molecular density! Allowing him to chance size at will! He's also invented some neato repulsor rays in his gloves to fly and punch people at a distance! He may have control over his size! But not anyone else in his life! He's the father of two girls and has a weird relationship with his house AI and his science/business partner, they ALL hate eachother! (Howard is inspired by a mix of Hank Pym Ant-Man and Iron Man) Rhea: (Rhea Hubble) the spunky sweetheart of the Saturn V! Rhea can create hard light ring constructs out of her hair, they remind folks of the planet Saturn so she's named after a MOON of Saturn! She's also very rebellious and hates her dad. (as you can see she's flirting with Dani over there in the corner) (Rhea's general costume is inspired by The Wasp but that's where that reference starts and ends) Sneak: (Valentina Hubble) Rhea's older sister, Sneak is the exact opposite of Rhea, being a huge bootlicker for her dad, she also does a lot of the Five's (I.E. Evenfall Entertainment's) dirty work behind the scenes, which is easy! As she has the power of invisibility! Unfortunately she cannot create forcefields but she can harness her invisible energy into electrical arcs! (s-shock people, she can shock people) She does NOT retain her sister's sociability and sticks to the sidelines. (like her pooooowerrssssss) (Val is intended to be the Black Widow expy, but again, appearance and narrative function is basically where that starts and ends) Ternion: Howard's AI whom he made to care for his boring mansion and his children! (that triangle to the top left of her is her true form), she processes data on the Five's (I.E. Howard's) experiments, but she and Howard are also something more! As they have an incredibly unstable emotional-possibly-psychosexual co-dependent relationship! However! Howard is a massive stick in the mud, so Ternion often has to turn elsewhere for her needs! (Ternion physical appearance is tenuously inspired by The Vision), enter!: The Null: (Dhalazor Rogers) originally Howard's closest science confidant, now a background member and semi-constant nuisance for their press! As The Null turns into a HULKING ALIEN ABOMINATION when stressed! He takes 'medicine' to accommodate this, he still actually cares about the work he does (as well as being a father figure for the sisters) but it's obviously gone to Howard's head, and also that emotional maturity is what attracts Ternion to him as well, oh the drama! I just realized now maybe that also helps their ratings (The Null is obvious, the Incredible Hulk, but I also imagine him with weird fish fins like the Abomination) As I've been not at all subtle with here, the Saturn Five are intended to be expies of the Avengers to contrast against the Phenomenal Family's obvious inspirations in the Fantastic Four, Phenomenal! has tons of other expies too, but I'm gonna have to write about them in their own thingies (just know for now that Howard, Dhala, Millie, and Randy all went to the same college), but if it wasn't obvious I'm a MASSIVE fan of the Venture Bros and comics in general and I like taking toys and bashing them together, wow!

Also! The Patriots still exists! Yeah! Unfortunately right now I'm writing the sequel to something completely unrelated to either The Patriots NOR Phenomenal! So stay tuned for that hopefully this Christmas! (I won't rush myself though so I may miss it)

[theelizamanelli]

Chapter Two Word count: 3,256 Rating: 18+, mature content, sensitive topics Link to Chapter One

—————————————————————————————————

Five years ago...

—————————————————————————————————

The sound of the phone ringing wakes me from a dead sleep, my hand slaps the comforter repeatedly until it finally settles on a rectangle shape. 

“Hello?” I mumble into the speaker.

“Elsie, you’re going to have to come pick him up.” The familiar voice of Brenda, the bartender at the Loose Caboose, fills my ear as I sigh. 

“How bad is it this time?” I sit up, flicking the hair out of my eyes and pulling the covers back. 

“Two drinks away from another Christmas Eve 2003,” The sound of glass shattering echoes in the background, “Put that down, Jim!” 

“I’m on my way,” I hang up the phone and pull myself out of bed. I glance at the clock on my bedside table: 0116. I groan before snatching up the denim jeans and loose tank top from the ground. I slide them on quickly before tip toe-ing down the hall.

I push open Lettie’s door just enough to see her sprawled on her unicorn comforter, mouth wide open and hair in her face. I smile before closing the door fully and head down the stairs. 

It’s a cool April evening, the fading of Spring and beginning of Summer sit pretty on the wind. Not wanting to leave my car at the bar I opt to walk; it’s a small town and the place isn’t too far. 

This isn’t the first time I’ve been called in the middle of the night to pick Dad off the curb and I know it won’t be the last.

A shiver runs down my body as the wind whips around my hair and up my back. I forgot my jacket on the bench and hug myself for warmth. 

The crunch of gravel sneaks up behind me as I hear a truck roll to a stop. I shut my eyes tight and swallow, hoping this isn’t a lecherous man with a thing for redheads.

“Need a ride?” the familiar voice of Mr. Miller rings out as he leans out the driver’s side of the window, stone-faced. 

I turn towards the sound and wave him off, “Nah, I’m good, Mr. Miller! Thanks, though!” I feign a smile before picking up the pace. 

He glances quickly at my tank top and arms hugged around my body before pulling the truck up further, angling it to block my path. 

“Let me rephrase that,” He grits out before putting the vehicle in park and leaning across the cab to push the passenger door open. “Get in.” 

His eyes stare forward, not appearing to budge and definitely not in the mood to be argued with. I sigh before making my way behind the truck and to the open door. I climb into the seat and close it behind me.

I glance over at him, his jeans are weathered and his boots are caked with mud. The blue t-shirt he’s wearing has a slight dampness to it as if he had been working outside. From the weariness in his forehead lines to the tightness of his shoulders, I assume he hasn’t made it home from work yet. 

He begins to drive towards the exit of the neighborhood as I say, “The Loose Caboose.” Not wanting him to ask questions, I angle my body towards the window but I don’t miss his fingers tightening around the wheel.

The drive is short yet no less awkward. My knee bounces erratically, an outlet for the brewing anxiety threatening to spill over.

I have done a decent job at hiding Dad’s issues with alcohol, the only ones that have a clue are the frequent flyers of the Loose Caboose and the staff that deal with him on a regular basis. 

For a small town they’ve been surprisingly quiet about the scenes he has caused, I’ve chalked it up to the sinners not wanting to be judged themselves; hypocrisy and all that.

As we pull up to the bar, I can see my Dad swaying in a seated position on the curb with a bottle of Bud Light on one side and his truck on the opposite. His head lulling down towards his chest, I roll my eyes and mutter under my breath, “Classic.”

Mr. Miller parks the truck two spots away from him and I open the door before he’s fully shifted, “Thanks, don’t wait up!” I yell, scurrying out and away from his glare.

I can hear the faint sound of snoring as I reach to rifle the keys from the back pocket of Dad’s jeans.

I jog a little to the truck and hop in, turning over the engine and leaving it to idle. I can feel Mr. Miller’s eyes tracking my movements as I hurry back towards the curb. 

I sigh and pray that he doesn't make a scene this time, that he gets to the truck without putting up a fight.

"Dad, it's time to go home," I say quietly, rustling his jacket. His eyes flutter slightly and he groans. 

I try again, this time with a little more force “Dad, it’s Elsie. Let’s go home, please.”

A mistake.

"Don’t touch me!" He slurs and pushes me off him with a rough shove. I feel myself tumbling backwards, tripping over the bumper. 

I know I’m going to hit the concrete so I brace myself but the impact never comes. My back hits something solid and soft instead. 

The smell of his cologne fills my nose as Mr. Miller steadies my body with his hands. He squeezes both of my arms in a comforting gesture but his eyes never meet mine, he is zeroed in on Dad. 

In a second he's at him, grabbing him by the jacket and forcing him up with brute strength.

"Mr. Miller, it's fine, I got him!" I yell and take a step forward.

He doesn't listen, he drags him to the truck and throws him into the passenger seat.

"What the f-" Dad groans as he hits the seat hard.

His face gets close and I can hear the threat in his voice.

"If you ever touch her like that again, I'll kill you." He slams the door.

He doesn't look at me as he gets back into his truck. 

I brush myself off and slide into the driver's seat. Putting the vehicle in drive, I make my way home. 

Dad doesn't make a fuss getting into the house and as I close the front door I watch Mr. Miller’s truck idle past.

——————————————————————————————————

Present Day

——————————————————————————————————

Coffee in hand, hair tousled, and my oversized hoodie threatening to swallow me whole if not to allow me a few milliseconds of sleep while standing. That is how I find myself at 0608 on Joel Miller’s front porch. 

I haven’t found the nerve to knock on the door, my eyes are barely open enough to register where the frame is in relation to where I am standing.

I sigh and reach my knuckles toward the door when it swings open, my fist meeting air and then a firm mass. 

“Good morning,” Joel mutters as he grabs my hand and lightly tosses it back towards me, as if it’s merely an annoying bug.

“Mm,” I grunt at him as I slip past into the living room and take a sip of my coffee.

“A delight, as always, Elsie Mae.” he says, an edge of a smirk to his tone. 

“I’m not exactly a morning person on my days off,” I survey the living room, it’s relatively put together. A few plates on the coffee table holding the remains of a pizza. The TV humming as the ESPN announcers talk about the latest sports highlights. 

“Noted.” He turns towards me, closing the door behind him. 

“How can I be of service to you, Mr. Miller?” I ask, striding into the kitchen and sitting down at the table. 

“You’re smart, right?” He walks to the fridge and pulls out a carton of orange juice. He takes a long gulp as I stare, contemplating what he asked.

“Depends who's asking, I guess,” I respond quizzically, setting my coffee down on the table. 

“Me. I’m asking.” He puts the carton back in the fridge before stepping to the table, pulling out one of the chairs and sitting down, “You just graduated, right? Top of your class as far as your Dad tells me.” 

The last few words tug at my heart and I pull back for a second, reeling. I can’t remember the last time I shared anything about college with Dad, or really anything at all.

“Yes, I did.” I say with a hint of hesitation, this wasn’t on my bingo card for topics of conversation.

“Tutor me.” He says, leaning back in his chair as he eyes study mine. Waiting expectantly for my answer.

“What?” I blurt out with a breathy laugh, “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I rarely kid.” He responds with a serious tone, his face unreadable.

I scrunch my nose and narrow my eyes, studying his body language and waiting for him to yell “Sike! Just kidding!”

When that doesn’t happen, my smile drops, “You’re being serious.”

He nods solemnly but doesn’t say a word. 

“Tutoring in what? Surely there’s nothing that I know that you need to learn.” I say, waving him off and lifting my cup back to my lips.

“I want to take the GED,” he says, leaning forward to brace his arms on his thighs. “I never graduated high school, too much of a little shit for all that.”

“So you picked me to help you?” I stare at him with an incredulous expression. “Surely you had better options.”

“You’re selling yourself short, Red,” his eyes soften for a second as he says, “You’re the smartest woman I know.”

——————————————————————————————————

That one compliment is how I find myself at the library on a Saturday morning with Joel Miller. Blinded by the stroke of my ego, I have been picking out GED practice books and putting them in his arms for the past fifteen minutes. 

“And you’ll need this one.” I mull over another section, crouching down to peer at another book. “Oh, and this one.” I place two more books on his pile. 

He stands behind me, not a hint of irritation or aggravation on his face. Simply holding the texts and following me around like a diligent servant. 

His eyes convey at minimum indifference and at maximum feigned interest as I talk about why one book would be the ideal option for studying versus another for practice tests.

“Isn’t this enough, Elsie? Am I getting my PhD or somethin’?” He asks incredulously as he stares at the looming tower of books. 

My head swivels and pierce him with a look that says “Do you want my help or not?”.

“You’re right, one or two more books couldn’t hurt,” he states with a sigh. 

“That’s what I thought.” I mutter underneath my breath as I crouch down for the fifth time to read the side of a GED for Dummies book. 

“Joel Miller, is that you?” A booming voice says from behind, growing louder as he nears us. 

“I don’t think I have ever seen you in the library, let alone holding a book.” He laughs as he claps him on the back and gestures to the growing pile in his arms. 

I stand back up and turn towards him, he’s an older white man in his late forties or early fifties. His hair scattered with black and pepper, the tell tale sign of an aging man that only seems to accentuate his overall looks. 

There are crinkle lines around his eyes and mouth that indicate he’s the jolly type. I turn to look at Joel and notice that he is as pale as I have ever seen the normally tan man. He has yet to say anything to the guy, his mouth slightly agape. 

The man meets my eyes and sticks his hand out, “Jared. Nice to meet you, young lady.”

“Elsie. Nice to meet you, too.” He has a firm handshake and I smile at him before returning my gaze to Joel. 

“Yeah, yeah, Jared, this is Elsie. We were just looking around the library. About to leave, though. Nice to see you.” He says in a rush before turning slowly towards the exit.

“Uh, we still have to check those books out.” I say with a smirk, I swallow the giggle that threatens to sneak out of my throat when Mr. Miller’s eyes burn into mine.

“Geez, I’ve never seen you so frazzled, Joel. Scared to introduce me to your little girlfriend?” He laughs and jabs Joel in the side. 

I smile politely before stating, “Oh, no, I’m not h-” before the words can leave my mouth Mr. Miller interrupts me.

“No, she’s just got a lot of studying to do, ya know?” He gestures to the books in his arm and nods his head towards the check out. “Got to get her back.”

“Well, don’t keep her all to yourself. Bring the pretty thing around sometime!” He winks at me as he says, “Take good care of him, Elsie, he’s a pain in the ass but he can be decent…sometimes.”

He walks away with another burst of laughter before I have the chance to correct him or even get a word out.

Mr. Miller doesn’t look in my direction as he walks towards the checkout and presents the library card I made him get forty five minutes ago.

I trail behind him as we make our way to the truck, sitting in silence for the ten minute drive home before re-entering his kitchen. He sets the books down on the table, careful to avoid my gaze like a teenager trying to evade an earful from his Mama.

I place my palms face down on the table, ducking my head down at an angle to catch his eye.

“She’s just got a lot of studying to do, huh, Mr. Miller?” I say, venom dripping from my words.

He clears his throat before responding, “You should probably start calling me Joel.”

——————————————————————————————————

“Alright, then, Joel. Care to explain what I signed up for here? I could have sworn it was to be your tutor, not your girl,” I take my palms off the table and stand up straight. 

“Yeah, that wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done.” He scratches the back of his head and meets my eyes. “Listen, Elsie. You have to understand. It’s embarrassing, ya know? Taking the GED, admitting I need help just to pass the damn thing.” 

He sits down at the table in a tired heap before continuing, “Jared is one of those guys who loves to talk just to hear his own voice. I’d rather him think I have a pretty young girlfriend than know I never even graduated fucking high school.”

A hint of pink splotches my neck at the compliment, I shake my head and respond, “How about you tell a girl first before you go around saying we’re going steady? It’d be nice to get a heads up so I don’t look like an asshole.”

He chuckles for a second with a look of relief on his face, “Yeah, I’m sorry, Red.” 

“Who was he, anyway?” I ask, crossing my arms to convey that this isn’t necessarily over.

“One of the construction management guys at that big company in San Antonio. He has a home nearby and comes to a lot of the job sites Tommy and I help out at,” he says, his shoulders relaxing. “Honestly, he’s kind of a perv. I’d prefer it if you stayed away from him.”

I point at one of the books at the top, “Start reading this and we’ll talk about all of this tomorrow.” I gesture at him in exasperation.

He nods his head and reaches for the book as I walk towards the door.

I place my hand on his shoulder for a second, “For what it’s worth, I could bet my month’s salary that guy isn’t half the man you are, Joel. Who cares what he thinks?” My fingers trail off the side of his t-shirt onto his bare skin, tingling at the contact.

——————————————————————————————————

The door at the top of the stairs creaks open slightly and I stop in place, holding my breath. 

“You’re looking good today, Jim,” a woman’s voice carries down the hallway. Footsteps follow the sound as if she’s pacing the room.

“You say that every day, Trisha. I’m starting to think you’re sweet on me.” says a gruff voice from the corner of the room. 

“You know you’re my favorite.” she laughs and the clink of a glass rings through the air.

“You say that to all your clients,” the male voice sounds amused but weak.

I let out my breath slowly, careful to not make noise, as I slide past the door. Through the crack I can see a pair of boots in the recliner and an older woman with tight blond curls spiking a bag of fluids.

I turn quickly and hustle the rest of the way to my room. I hurriedly close the door, resting the side of my face on the wood. 

I shake my head before turning, resting my back against the frame. 

It isn’t lost on me that Dad preserved my childhood bedroom in perfect condition. The shelf over my computer desk full of participation trophies and mediocre medals from my sports days. The bulletin board littered with magazine posters and school flyers. The lime green duvet paired with brown sheets, a time capsule of the early 2000’s.

I walk slowly over to the dresser, crouching down to open the bottom drawer. Eighteen year old Elsie Mae had this compartment full of memorabilia collected over the years; a secret all of her own. 

The handle takes a little coaxing to open and when it does I let out a small laugh. There are movie stubs, old CD’s, my “Most Likely To Be Everyone’s Mom” certificate from senior year, and in the corner hidden underneath old notes is a light blue journal.

I pull it out and brush off the dust from the cover: “Elsie Mae’s Teenage Wiles”. I shake my head and sit down on the ground to open the journal.

August 27th, 2003

One day I’m going to leave this little town and make something for myself. There won’t be any more late night phone calls or needy little sisters. 

I’m going to look back and think of all that I’ve overcome to get here and be proud of little ole Elsie Mae.

Just wait and see.

EM

“You did a good job, kid.” I whisper as I stroke the writing with my index finger.

The remainder of the entries range from complaining about the workload at school to discussing the drama of Terence Junior Smith (TJ for short) and Haven Jones kissing in the bathroom during study hour.

I turn to the last page.

Elsie Mae’s To Do Before Eighteen

-Sneak out 

-Skinny dip

-Go roller skating

-Ride a motorcycle

-Throw a rager

-Rodeo

-Kiss in the rain

-Say yes to something that scares the shit out of me

My smile falters, seventeen year old Elsie Mae was so focused on everyone else she never got to be a teenager. In this moment I feel as though I failed her, I may have gotten to twenty two but was it all worth it? 

Have I been so preoccupied getting to the future that I forgot to live?

———————————————————————————————————————

Link to Chapter Three

[spookyshipperfics]

Boyfriend

Find it: a03 / Fandom: The X-Files / Rating: Mature

Part of the Do You Like Scary Movies? series

Tagging @today-in-fic

What is it About? Scully and Mulder might have recently crossed into a romantic relationship, but that doesn’t mean she wants to call him her boyfriend. However, when Mulder surprises her while babysitting her godson, it has Scully questioning her stance on labels.

Read a Sample:

She’d just scooped the pumpkin seeds into the trash when her phone chirped.

“Scully,” she answered, making eye contact with the jack-o’-lantern on the kitchen table.

“What are you wearing?” Mulder purred on the other end of the line.

She rolled her eyes, even without him there to be her audience. “Not a costume if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He sighed. “Not even the witch hat?”

“Not even the witch hat,” she echoed through a smile, remembering how he’d plopped down the pointy black hat on the desk this morning. What? It’s Halloween? He’d teased with a mischievous grin. “What do you want, Mulder?”

“I miss you,” he admitted with such sincerity it made her heart clench.

“I miss you too, but I’m babysitting my godson tonight. I told you that.”

“I know,” he replied. “That’s why I’m outside.”

“You’re what?” she gasped. Scully marched into the living room to peek through the drapes. Sure enough, she spotted his car in front of the house. He must have known exactly what she would do because the car light flicked on. He gave her a little wave before hitting the switch, encapsulating himself in darkness again.

“Mulder,” she practically hissed, “How long have you been out there?”

“I just got here,” he responded. “That’s why I called.”

“I’m supposed to be babysitting.”

“Sneak me in once the kiddo is in bed.”

“He’s already in bed,” she said, reliving her godson’s protests. It had been a long night of trick-or-treating. Trent had been over-tired, too much excitement and Halloween candy to blame.

“I’ll be there in a minute then,” Mulder assured before any protest could leave her mouth.

A soft knock returned her to the kitchen. She pulled open the back door to find Mulder in a fitted gray T-shirt, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans.

“You could have come through the front,” she remarked.

“Then I wouldn’t be sneaking in,” he countered before planting a kiss on the edge of her mouth and pushing into the kitchen.

“Mulder,��� she sighed. “We are both in our thirties. I don’t necessarily have to sneak you in.”

“You’re no fun, Scully.” Curious hands halted their exploration of the jack-o’-lantern centering the table. “I was thinking we could steal some booze and raid the fridge. Maybe get a little handsy on the couch.” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Ellen said I could help myself to anything in the fridge, so snacks and alcohol shouldn’t be much of a problem.”

“Gee, you sure know how to dampen a guy’s fantasy,” he teased. Ever the investigator, Mulder surveyed her friend’s kitchen like a crime scene, fingers dancing across knickknacks and parsing through a forgotten stack of magazines on the counter. He’d only been to Ellen’s house once to pick her up when her car was in the shop. He’d never been inside.

“You’ll notice that I didn’t say anything about the last half of your musings,” she offered. “Getting a little handsy on the couch shouldn’t be much of a problem either.”

He stopped in his tracks. “Admit it. You like the idea of playing the innocent babysitter, don’t you?”

Her only response was an eye roll. She opened the fridge Mulder was so interested in raiding and removed a bottle of white wine.

“Did you hear about the patient who escaped from Smith’s Grove Sanitarium last night?” Mulder asked, never deterred by her silence.

She shook her head as she set about uncorking the Chardonnay.

“I was listening to the radio on the way here,” he continued. “Local law enforcement issued an official warning. They’re calling him dangerous and most likely armed.”

“What’d he do?”

“The broadcast mentioned something about murdering his sister when he was a kid.”

“Jesus.” She was mid-pour and focused on keeping her hand steady. “Of all the days to escape, he decided on Halloween. You’ve got to admit that’s a bit creepy.”

“Guy’s been locked up for close to fifteen years. Maybe he wanted to get some trick-or-treating in.”

“Smith’s Grove Sanitarium is only a couple of hours from here. Do you think we will get involved?”

“Without anything overtly supernatural going on? Doubtful.”

She thought back to Donnie Pfaster and was suddenly grateful for Mulder’s disinterest in the manhunt. Human monsters were often worse than fantastical ones. With the glasses filled, she put the bottle away. No more than a second after she closed the refrigerator door did she feel Mulder directly behind her, hands on her hips.

She spun around to face him. “About those snacks. What do you want?”

“What do you have?” He took a step forward, pinning her against the counter. He was so big, so close, that warmth blossomed between her legs.

“Popcorn. Chips. Pretzels, maybe.” Scully hoped she sounded normal, but her growing arousal had a slight quiver slipping into her voice. “Oh, I also have candy. Lots of Halloween candy.”

“Hmmm,” he purred as one of his hands traveled from her waist to the button on her pants. “If I was craving something sweet, I’d much rather taste you.”

“Dana?” Trent’s sleep-hazy voice drifted from the doorway. Mulder jumped back from her like he’d been scalded.

“Trent! Hi,” she stuttered already half-way across the room. “What’s wrong?” Her hands darted out to rub his shoulder in a clumsy maternal gesture.

“I just need a glass of water,” the child responded, eyes bouncing between her and Mulder.

“Oh, Trent, this is Mulder,” she blurted, suddenly feeling a lot like the guilty, horny babysitter of Mulder’s boyish fantasies.

Mulder approached Trent. Scully half-expected him to formally shake the kid’s hand. Instead, Mulder gave him a fist bump. “Hey, buddy.”

“Are you Dana’s boyfriend?” Trent asked.

“Something like that,” Mulder responded, turning to her with a wink.

Warmth flooded her cheeks. “Mulder is my work partner and my friend.”

Mulder’s shoulder deflated the tiniest bit. Her heart turned heavy. An anchor pulled it from her chest into the pit of her stomach, where it felt low and hollow.

She’d been minimizing their relationship since it crossed into romantic territory. Still, she wasn’t ignorant of the way Skinner’s curious gaze studied them from across the room. The way her brother’s eyes narrowed when Mulder accompanied her to their last family barbeque. Yet, even her mother’s inquiries were met with groans and brush-offs.

Mulder and I are just friends.

Fear and embarrassment kept the truth from leaving her lips. Fear that a label would only bring complications. Embarrassment that she was the woman who’d gotten entangled with her co-worker against policy… again. But who was she kidding? She and Mulder were never just friends. She owed him more than another brush-off—much more.

Find the rest on a03

[tuxedaaron]

The context of this picture is a little long-winded, so please bear with me.  The basic idea came to me when I was coming up with some brainstorming for one of my upcoming DCAU fanfics, entitled, "Legacy".   The basic synopsis for the story takes place in the "Beyond" timeline of the DCAU, when Bruce Wayne has ultimately died.  As allies, new and old, remember and grieve, and a new hard-as-nails Commissioner succeeds Barbara Gordon as head of the GCPD, Terry McGinnis finds himself questioning Batman's relevance in a world that seems almost determined to move on without him.  At the same time, a new masked figure has emerged, looking to carve out his own legend in Gotham...one that surpasses even Batman's. One of the key elements of the story is going to involve Terry interacting with various key figures in Bruce's life (from Superman to Dick Grayson), each of them sharing a personal moment with him that no one else knows about.  This particular scene comes to us courtesy of the flashback provided by Wonder Woman, who arrives from Themyscira to mourn Bruce's passing as well.  As she reminisces with Terry, it's revealed that she and Bruce were actually in a committed relationship for several years before various circumstances pulled them apart (not the least of which was Diana being forced to return home). Which brings us to the flashback in question, which shows that Diana was able to provide a guiding light in Bruce's darkness for the time they were together.  This takes place on the tail end of their first year together.  Diana has begun sleeping at Bruce's home on a pretty regular basis, but Bruce would still generally make it a habit to sneak out of bed and do some Bat-work. He'd usually manage to slip back before she woke up, but as far as Diana's concerned, he's fooling absolutely no one. Still, if it made him feel more at ease, she generally didn't take offense. However, this time around...something is VERY different.  Stirred awake to find Bruce sitting on the edge of the bed, still in costume, Diana tries to get him to talk about it.  But Bruce remains adamantly tight-lipped about what he experienced, the only answer for his silence being, "I just think it's fair that ONE of us should still be able to sleep". Now Diana KNOWS that something is wrong. She can hear it in his voice, the way he squeezed her hand as he spoke.  The scene ends with her coaxing Bruce down onto the bed, where she holds him, kisses him and generally gives him all the love she has until Bruce finally reaches a comfortable enough state that he finally manages to sleep.  As the flashback draws to a close, Diana then goes on to talk about how Bruce's heart basically became an open book to her after that night. Even though he would still be reluctant to express his feelings verbally, there was always something Diana would see in his eyes from that night onward. A feeling of...contentment whenever she was around. "To this day, I STILL don't know what happened that night. Bruce never told me and I never asked again," Diana recalls. "For all I know, maybe it wasn't anything at all. Maybe it was just all the years of Batman finally catching up with him." "What I DO know for a FACT...is that night...was the closest he'd EVER come to slipping off the edge," she added as her gaze drifted off across the room. "Hera only knows what he might have done to himself...or ANYONE else...if someone hadn't been there for him..." "...I'm just glad that someone was me." As for the pic itself, it's more or less the way I wanted it to look.   Before you ask, yes, Diana IS naked in the picture and people can read into that however they want.  Since the story I'm planning is going to be rated T, I can be a bit more liberal with the violence and certain sexual aspects.  However, my take is that Diana just generally sleeps naked, no matter what.  Plus, she's sufficiently obscured by Bruce that I don't think we need to insult each other by calling this a "Mature Content" pic.  Besides, the purpose of this scene is not intended to be sexual, anyway.  The idea is that in the end, Diana is able to soothe Bruce's troubled mind with her HEART, not with her BODY. Anyway, I'm quite pleased with how the pic came out.  Not bad for my first time, posting a pic of either of these characters, don't you think?  As always feel free to tell me your thoughts.  I hope you feel the same emotions I wanted to convey in this pic.  Either way, I look forward to hearing from you. ^_^

[hibiscusangel15]

2023 Fic Wrap Up

Total New Fics: 8

Total Word Count: 51,493

I wrote a lot more than I did in 2022, but I really think I could've done more if I worked out a better schedule even with my health issues. I've been slacking on my original stuff, too :T

Next year, I'm going to focus on finishing fics and series I've neglected. I also want to be able to work out a better writing schedule without stressing myself out too much.

This is more for me than anything lol. Sorted alphabetical order by fandom.

Baldur's Gate 3

Managed to sneak in one last fic before the end of the year. The BG3 brainrot will fester well into next year for sure, though.

Inkling

Summary: Leave it to a devil to cheat the outcome. The orthon unleashed a smattering of bombs—one last suicidal tirade to take them all down with him.

The swell of victory was short-lived. Astarion had been reckless. Stupid. Desperate.

But it was Lev who paid the price.

An alternate take on the post-Yurgir fight where Astarion attempts to comfort an injured Leviathala (OC). Spoilers for Act 2!

Part 1 of Firsts

Published: 12/30/23

Rating: Teen and Up

Pairing: Astarion/Named!Tav, Astarion/Original Female Character

Characters: Astarion, Original Female Character, Karlach, Lae'zel, Shadowheart

Additional Tags: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Injury Recovery, Head Injury, Alternate Scene, Spoilers for Act 2 (Baldur's Gate 3), Named Tav (Baldur's Gate), Tiefling Tav (Baldur's Gate), Fighter Tav (Baldur's Gate)

Status: One-shot / Complete

Additional Thoughts: Listen, dangle a charming asshole in front of me and I'll bite. I actually didn't like him much at first, but his smooth-brained idiocy and the promise of a deeper backstory (based on other people's reactions to him) kept me pursuing him.

Then he screamed for my character when she went down, confessed his feelings the very next day, and it was over for me. I wrote this alternate scene within two days after finishing my playthrough lol.

Bleach

Honestly, fan events are the only threads keeping me to this fandom at all. Thank you for the IR, GIR, and Ishihime fandoms for your service. You're all amazing writers and artists.

Ad Infinitum

Summary: Plagued by a demonic voice constantly whispering in his ear, Kurosaki Ichigo always feels one step away from a total breakdown. His guardian angel having history with said demon isn't doing him any favors, either.

An Angel!AU for Day 1 of Ichiruki Month 2023.

Part 1 of Ichiruki Month 2023

Published: 09/01/23

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo, Hollow Ichigo | Zangetsu/Kuchiki Rukia

Characters: Kurosaki Ichigo, Kuchiki Rukia, Hollow Ichigo | Zangetsu

Additional Tags: Angel/Human Relationships, Demonic Possession, Past Relationship(s), Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Status: Multi-chapter / Incomplete (1/?)

Additional Thoughts: An angel/demon AU for Bleach has been rattling around my head for a couple years now. Seeing the "Wings" prompt for IR Month 2023 finally kicked me into gear to writing at least something for it.

I want to be able to update this fic at least monthly next year, but first, I think I'll focus on wrapping up my short GIR fics and the IR Big Bang fic first. I'll do my best.

Fighting Chance

Summary: Every moment of Grimmjow's life has been a fight. A fight to stay alive. To prove himself. To be King.

Peace had never ever occurred to him as possible, let alone peace with Shinigami. There's always a first time for everything. For Day 1 of GrimmIchiRuki Weekend 2023!

Published: 03/18/23

Rating: Teen and Up

Pairings: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kurosaki Ichigo, Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo, Grimmjow Jaegerjaques/Kuchiki Rukia

Characters: Grimmjow Jeagerjaques, Kurosaki Ichigo, Kuchiki Rukia, Tia Harribel, Urahara Kisuke

Additional Tags: Canon-Typical Violence, References to Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Polyamory

Status: Multi-chapter / Incomplete (1/3)

Additional Thoughts: A lot of my GIR fics focus on Grimmjow as like the main main character, I've noticed. He's a lot of fun to write and weirdly relatable in some ways? I think I just revealed some things about myself I didn't mean to by always featuring his anger as the central theme oops lmao

Keep Cool

Summary: Ichigo laments over the unbearable humidity in the Soul Society. Rukia strutting around practically half-naked around their home is not doing him any favors, either.

For Day 4 of Ichiruki Month 2023!

Part 2 of Ichiruki Month 2023

Published: 09/15/23

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo

Characters: Kurosaki Ichigo, Kuchiki Rukia

Additional Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Established Relationship, Cock Tease, Sexual Roleplay, Temperature Play

Status: One-shot / Complete

Additional Thoughts: It was really hot and humid where I lived at the time of writing this, so...

Sweetness and Lightning

Summary: Food has a funny way of bringing people together. Especially with Inoue Orihime at the helm. For Day 1 of Ishihime Week 2023!

Published: 03/24/23

Rating: G / K+

Pairing: Inoue Orihime/Ishida Uryuu

Characters: Ishida Uryuu, Inoue Orihime

Additional Tags: Secret Crush, Cooking Lessons, Fluff, Not Beta Read

Status: One-shot / Complete (Need to edit)

Additional Thoughts: I had a couple other one-shot ideas I wanted to write for this event, but I ran out of time. Maybe next year!

I also feel bad for just releasing this fic without giving it my usual thorough edit lookover. That'll be one of the first things I'll focus on in January outside of the GIR fics.

Good Omens

Man, I didn't think I would be as obsessed for months on end as I was for Good Omens 2 until it came out. I'm still sad over the finale lol.

Ineffable

(Cover is art by my sister @/artsysapphy on Instagram)

Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale ponder the definition of love throughout the years.

Spoilers for the Season 2 finale!

Published: 09/30/23

Rating: G / K+

Pairing: Aziraphale/Crowley

Characters: Crowley, Aziraphale

Additional Tags: Introspection, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions, Good Omens Season 2 Spoilers, Angst

Status: One-shot / Complete

Additional thoughts: I had to write my feelings down about the Season 2 finale somewhere. This lone one-shot I wrote for my sister's birthday was the result.

I do plan to write a couple more one-shots based on the Stars' album In Our Bedroom, After the War when I have time, though.

Gorillaz

My years-long hyperfixation on the monkey band is starting to wane a little, but there's no way I'm giving up writing my stupid, self-indulgent series. I'll get back to writing the Falling Out the Sky series really soon!

All Out of Song

(Cover is a commission from @/herhumanist, one of my favorite artists!)

Summary: Letting everything fall apart is always easier than holding it together. Murdoc Niccals knows from experience.

Second chances haunt Murdoc's every waking moment, more so now that Gorillaz and his ex have returned to where it all started. Maybe keeping everyone together might be worth a shot this time around.

Sequel to Over the Dub.

Part 2 of Falling Out the Sky

Published: 03/10/23

(Latest chapter published: 10/13/23)

Rating: Explicit (Started off as Mature)

Pairing: Murdoc Niccals/Original Character(s), Murdoc Niccals/Original Female Character(s)

Characters: Murdoc Niccals, Noodle, Stuart "2D" Pot, Russel Hobbs, Original Characters, Other Character Tags to Be Added, Paula Cracker, Jamie Hewlett, Damon Albarn, DJ Danger Mouse

Additional Tags: Phase Two (Gorillaz), Canon Compliant, Past Relationship(s),Strained Friendships, Psychosis, Blood and Gore, Gun Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Angst, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Light Dom/sub, Rough Sex, Romance

Status: Multi-chapter / Incomplete (9/35)

Additional thoughts: Started off strong by following my biweekly schedule then it kinda fell apart after some health issues/work stuff. I think a monthly schedule will honestly work better for me for this fic so I don't put other stuff on the backburner all the time.

A lot of this fic is just Murdoc and Anna being angry so far, but there's also something really fun about just writing two bitter, messy people figuring their shit out and still loving each other anyway.

The Fool

Summary: Nineteen, no discernable life direction, stuck behind a counter as he watched everything pass him by. His mother didn’t outright call him a disappointment. And she wasn’t disappointed in him, not like other mums would be. Even so, he noticed her concern, the way she tried to push him to go to uni, to apply for this job or that. It was what mums did. His dad was too much like him to be anything but gently encouraging.

Getting a job at Uncle Norm’s Organ Emporium was the best way to keep her calm. A new start.

A peek into Stuart Pot's life pre-Gorillaz. Written for Day 3 of Gorillaztober 2023 on Twitter!

Part 1 of Major Arcana

Published: 10/06/23

Rating: G / K+

Characters: Stuart "2D" Pot, Rachel Pot, Uncle Norm (Gorillaz)

Additional Tags: Pre-Phase One (Gorillaz), Introspection, Stream of Consciousness, Autism Spectrum, Tarot, Background 2-D/Paula

Status: One-shot / Complete

Additional Thoughts: I honestly really like writing from 2-D's POV. There's something about how his thoughts flow that's really easy to fit into.

2024 Goals

Finish the two GrimmIchiRuki fics I left alone for too long (Lights Off and Fighting Chance) in January

Fully edit all released fics in January

Release at least five more one-shots per new fic series (Major Arcana and Firsts) throughout the year

Release monthly updates of my multi-chapter fics (All Out of Song and Ad Infinitum) starting in March

This is just my fic stuff, but I also want to write at least half of my original novel as well by the end of 2024. Here's hoping.

[firstprince-ao3feed]

Sneak

by cricketnationrise

The Brownstone Server's Weekly 100 Challenge, Week 42

Ch 1: T Ch 2: M Ch 3: M Ch 4: M

Words: 400, Chapters: 4/4, Language: English

Series: Part 42 of RWRB Weekly 100

Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor

Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Suggestive language, Nudity, Roommates, Piano, Pining, sudden feelings realization, Dancing, Implied Sexual Content, Alternate POV of Canon Scene, red room scene, Kisses, Alex's Key Necklace

from AO3 works tagged 'Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor' https://ift.tt/18ELdmV

[writefightandflightclub]

Return to Sender: (Richard Alonso Muñoz x GN reader)

What is this? This is 4/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. I’m not gonna share the prompt as it’s spoilery, but it was requested by @sergeantkane​ who is a genius for picking this combo! It’s a prompt about LOVE LETTERS! Omg! And thus, it matches perfectly with Richard (trust me, I had NOT made that connection when I made the prompt list :P). Thank you so much for requesting, Clarke, and I hope you enjoy it. I’m excited about this one!

If you’d like to read/keep track of the other fics, I’m keeping an up-to-date friends to lovers list in my pinned post.

Author’s note: Oh, I really quite like this one. Hope it makes you feel as soft as I did for Richard while writing it! Also- it’s my first bash at writing him, so let me know what you think! Thanks to everyone who helped with film details too: those not already tagged in the post- @prurientpuddlejumper​ @witchyavenger​ @veuliee2​ @waatermelon-sugaar​ @pascal-isaac​

Word count: 4.5 k. So not a blurb, then? :P

Rating: Mature, for light steam (not explicit, but 18+ or out, please!)

Warnings: mentions of food/eating. Mild angst (but it ends well), Steamy. Kissing, brief non-explicit mention of erection. Implied coitus (cut scene). Richard works in a “correctional facility”. Small mention of attempted break-in. If I missed any let me know.

Tagging: @anetteaneta​ @isvvc-pvscvl​ @nowritingonthewall​ @supernovafeather​ (ONLY READ IF 18+)

GIF by @nathan-bateman​

“Have you ever received a love letter?” Richard wonders shyly, without looking up from his crossword puzzle, his long eyelashes fanned out as his gaze dances over the monochrome squares.

Meanwhile, your eyes snap up immediately from your magazine, which you are idly leafing through, a breath catching in your chest.

You bristle at the question, and yet Richard seems either entirely oblivious, or entirely determined not to look-up at you. Perhaps both. So, instead of looking, he simply slurps the dregs of his milkshake, and pushes his plate of waffle remnants further toward the far end of the diner booth.

When he finally raises his gaze – a gentle prompt for you to answer him- his eyes are large and shining under the fluorescent lights as he peers at you over his glass, dabbing at his thick moustache with a paper napkin shortly after.

“No, never,” you state sadly, heeding his prompt with a small smile and a shake of your head. Not even a love e-mail.

“I’m surprised,” he flatters with a cautious smile. And, if you’re not mistaken, his eyes light-up with the faintest trace of desire. The barest undercurrent of passion, which is enough to have your heart beating like a drum. You notice it sometimes; this dull heat emanating off of him. It is a spark which never ignites, however - to your endless disappointment; you would fan that flame if only you knew how.

You swallow. He’s surprised? He can’t be that surprised, you think, a stone sinking through your stomach as you dwell too long on the topic of love letters, and meanwhile, Richard’s attention seamlessly diverts back to 3 across.

“You deserve one,” he says, still looking at the page, but a smile animating his wiry moustache. “A letter.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, a spiralling sadness catching hold of you. Does he not understand what this is doing to you? This painful reminder? “Can we drop it, Richard?” you say tensely, and when his eyes meet yours again, they are even more soft and cautious than usual, causing you to admonish yourself for the bite in your tone.

“Yes,” he says. “Of course,” he smiles thinly, apologetically.

It’s simply the new job, you think. Director of Communications. The man has letters on the brain. Richard is so considerate, that you realise he must not intend to hurt you in dredging up the past; he would never. In a way though, you think, it’s even worse that he brings it up so… casually. You can only conclude he has forgotten that you sent your letter to him at all. Had your heartfelt words, declaring your love, had so little impact on him?

Maybe that’s it. After all, they seemed to have so little impact upon him at the time. What could you expect years later? On the other hand, you -apparently- remain rather sore about the topic, all this time later. It’s natural to be sensitive though, isn’t it? You’d written him a love letter and he didn’t write you back. He didn’t say it back. Didn’t feel it back.

And, perhaps it still stings so much, even all these years later, because you never did stop loving him, even if he never started loving you.

Feeling a sudden, overwhelming haste to leave, you thumb through the pages of your magazine so furiously that the next table turn their heads to look at you, until you find what you were searching for.

“Here, Richard. The article I mentioned. Dramatherapy for people who are incarcerated.”

You fold the magazine back on itself, fobbing it off on him with an unprecedented urgency, hurriedly signalling to the waitress that you’d like the check. The roomy diner booth suddenly feels suffocating, and you want to get out. Meanwhile, oblivious, Richard chuckles at the title of the article -some kind of pun, you recall- as you try to push down the unpleasant emotions surfacing within you.

“Thank you for this,” he smiles, looking up at you earnestly. Looking concerned as he reads the expression on your face. “Are you alright?”

Your eyes fix on the table, where his fingertips inch hesitantly across the surface, hovering moments from yours as he debates whether to extend comfort. You make the decision for him, snatching your hand back from his reach.

“Yes. I’m Fine,” you say, unconvincingly. “Can we please go? I need some fresh air.”

“Alright,” Richard agrees gently. He looks a little flustered, but, now sensing your urgency, he begins to sweep up his papers and to shrug on his jacket. He pulls out a small comb to fix his neat curls in place, and offers you a soft smile. “Maybe we can go to the park next?” he suggests.  

As much as you want to run, you nod, some of your agitation dissipating now that the prior topic seems to be forgotten. “Okay. Yeah. That would be nice.” You school your expression into something calm, and you offer him a reassuring smile as his soulful eyes dance over you, a lingering but unobtrusive concern there.

As you split the check, you tell yourself for the millionth time that being his friend is enough; but even after the millionth time, you can’t quite believe it.

Still, today -Sunday- is your one day with him this week. And, no matter what you can’t have; you’ll take anything you can get.

He’s too dear to you to settle for anything less.

************

One month later:

You crouch in amongst the boxes on Richard’s front lawn. He is having a clear-out, setting out some items for goodwill, and some for a neighbourhood yard sale happening next weekend.

You are having fun assisting him in sifting through various items, occasionally bursting into a fit of laughter when he reveals yet another ill-informed, late night shopping channel “bargain” – usually some new-fangled, scarcely-used exercise contraption, which he proceeds to demonstrate in good-humour, making you fold over clutching your stomach in mirth. Occasionally, as you rifle through the boxes, you’ll be overcome by a pang of sentimentality when he uncovers an item with a memory attached; and -no matter how useless- he usually sneaks said item into his ever-growing “to-keep” pile.

“But this is the picnic hamper we took to Bound Beach Island! For your birthday, remember?”  

“Yeah, Richard, but it’s battered! It has holes! It needs to go.”

“It was a beautiful day. The light and the dunes were beautiful… and… and y-“

“-Oh my goodness, what is this?! Please for the love of God tell me you never actually wore this!”

You work through the midday sun until you come to a tired, dead halt on the grass, finally parking your ass down and wiping your brow. Richard looks warm too, a “v” of sweat soaking his old, oversized “Save the Turtles” t-shirt. No - he really doesn’t throw anything away. You smile fondly, though, remembering his sea turtle phase. Of course, he’d read some article. He always was looking for a cause.

“I’ll make us some iced tea,” Richard announces with a tired puff of breath, looking more spent than he probably wants to admit after shuttling the various boxes. Still, the way his grizzled curls have fallen away from his harsh side-part appeals to you, sitting disobedient and undone on his forehead.

Thinking of him undone, you hear a faint beating of drums sound in your chest.

You ignore the music though, like always, instead smiling gratefully as he heads inside, and you take a second to collect yourself before dragging the nearest box towards you, deciding you may as well continue. This next box is taped securely shut, and you chuckle quietly to yourself when you notice it’s labelled “workout-gear”.

You peel the packing tape away and open it up, scooping out the pile of miscellaneous papers sitting right on top. Beginning to leaf through, you surmise it’s mainly unopened junk mail; mainly garishly printed promotional flyers - from a pizzeria which closed down years ago, you recognise. Probably hastily stuffed in before his last move and never dealt with. Absent-mindedly, you begin to bundle it up for the recycling pile, when a smaller, more humble envelope drops out on to your lap, a hand-scrawled address on the front. The stationary is resoundingly familiar.

In fact, everything about it is familiar.

Your heart hammers in your chest as it immediately dawns on you.

It’s your letter.

The letter you sent him, all those years ago. You’d needed to be apart from him- needed to go away to take care of family, and you simply couldn’t go without letting him know. Letting him know you were in love with him.

The memory is like a slow knife sinking into your chest as you idly turn it over in your hands.

But… It can’t be…?

It’s… unopened.

All the air leaves you lungs.

No. No. It doesn’t make a shred of sense.

You’d spoken to him right afterward, on the phone. The first time he’d called after you left town he’d almost pleaded with you, giving you an unequivocally clear, and endlessly painful answer that he didn’t want what you wanted. What you’d written about. He’d made it abundantly obvious that he simply wanted to be friends. “I- I don’t want anything to change. I want everything to stay exactly like it is between us – please? Can we still talk every day?”

But if he didn’t read it…?

You heart pounds so hard that you hear blood rushing in your ears.

He doesn’t know.

His words didn’t mean what you…

Oh my god. All this time.  

You shoot abruptly to standing when you see him approach, as if you’ve been caught red-handed, guiltily stuffing the letter into your back pocket before he can ask you what it is, an abundance of thoughts screaming in your head.

He hands you the glass of tea, ice tinkling gently, and you take it from him, the coolness shocking your palms.

Assessing what you’ve been up to in his absence, and noting the carcass of another box, Richard glances down at the pile of papers strewn at your feet. He looks suddenly worried for a moment, as if you might have found an old porn stash or something – and he looks just as suddenly relieved when he sees they are more innocent papers, scooping them up from the grass.

“Richard?” you say, your eyes burning a hole in the back of his head, and the letter burning a hole in your pocket as he drops the items into the recycling. He hums for you to go on. “Do you... You know when I moved away...?” your voice is strained, and you gulp hard. “Just before, do you remember getting any unusual letters or... weird post from me?”

“Like what kind of thing?” he asks curiously, turning back to you.

“I don’t know exactly,” you lie, nervously. “I have a feeling I sent you something? A sappy goodbye thing?”

You see him mull it over, combing his impressive moustache with his fingers. “I don’t remember, sorry. But apparently I was drowning in junk mail at that apartment. Maybe it got lost, or returned to sender?”

Despite everything, you exhale a small laugh. In a roundabout way, you suppose it had been returned to sender after all. You look at the ground.

“Was it important?” he asks, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand as he looks at you.

Biding time, you take a sip of your tea while you search for an answer. It’s refreshing.

“It… Uh. It was a long, long time ago. Doesn’t matter now, I suppose,” you muse, masking your sadness, and he nods, looking at least half-satisfied with your answer.

Except, it does matter. It matters more than anything. And, with a sudden, overwhelming need to grab on to the past, you track to the “to go” box, rescuing the battered picnic basket from the pile of junk.

“You shouldn’t get rid of this,” you state, your back to Richard, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your voice falters. You tense as you feel him settle by your side, his hand hovering tentatively at the small of your back but never quite touching. “It was a beautiful day.”

“No,” he insists. “You’re right. I shouldn’t hang on to it.”

His words are like a punch in the gut. You turn your head to your side, where Richard is, your eyes and heart almost overflowing.

Noting your sadness, and connecting it to the picnic basket, he does everything he can to smooth things over, like always. “We can get a new one,” he says, his brown eyes sweet and hopeful and bright.

You love him. You love him still and you can’t help but turn towards him and reach out your arms, dragging him in for a hug.

“No! No, I’m sweaty,” he protests self-consciously, but you don’t care. You just need to hold him, even only for a moment – and, for a moment he stills as you loop around him, never quite clutching you back.

When you pull away though, you could swear that dim spark of passion is present in his eyes again. That spark that never catches, no matter how much or how often or how hard you wish it would. Oh, how you wish.

“Don’t ever change, Richard,” you say sincerely, your voice imbued with fondness. “Okay? You’re a sweet, wonderful man.”

His eyes are immediately soft and bashful again, the colour of his cheeks deepening a little, a crimson undertone blooming under his brown skin.

“Yes. Okay,” he offers, with a nod, his eyes creasing at the corners, and his posture even bolstered by the compliment, you could swear, his chest puffing out proudly.

For the rest of the afternoon, you ignore the unread words in the back of your pocket; but for the life of you, you can’t ignore those drums.

************

One month later:

You bundle the yapping, happy little white dog into your arms, relieved that she’s okay as her little tail happily beats against your arm.

“Are you okay, Lady?” you coo as she nuzzles her snoot into your face, eagerly lapping little kisses on to your cheek. “Thanks goodness, sweet little floof,” you baby-talk as your eyes quickly scan around Richard’s place, setting his spare key down on the kitchen counter.

You’d barrelled across town to get here, after receiving a call about an attempted break-in. His neighbour to the left had your contact details in case of an emergency -it’s not very easy to reach him at work, of course- so here you are. You came to give things a quick checking over, assured that no-one suspicious had continued to loiter. Richard won’t be much longer -his shift has nearly ended, and you’d left him a voicemail so you’re sure he’ll hurry- but you still thought you’d go on ahead of him, especially so that he wouldn’t worry about Lady.

Looking around, thankfully all seems well, and you don’t think anyone made it inside after all. Slowly then, you allow your nerves to calm and your heart to settle, bouncing the little bundle of fur in your arms, and feeding her a treat from the packet on top of the microwave, just in case she’d been stressed out.

Calming, you can’t help but smile as you look around, absorbing all the little details of Richard. You do hang out in his apartment a fair amount, but most often you will meet or sit outdoors, when the weather allows. After all, he loves to feel the sun and fresh air on his face, especially after spending all day cooped-up in windowless rooms. To you though, this Richard-ness is like a breath of fresh air, and you let it all wash over you, drinking in the details of his simple daily routine. The discarded half-plate of frijoles and rice by the sink. The ironing-board piled with identical uniform-issue shirts, pants, and plain white t-shirts. The photos on the fridge door – some of you and him too.

Doing a lap of the living space, you further note the dining-for-one TV table, evidence of his relatively solitary existence, and you can almost see him sitting there. Can almost hear his soft voice relating the far-fetched storylines of his favourite telenovelas. You imagine him chuckling warmly - perhaps shedding a tear sometimes too.

You decide you should pop your head into the bedroom and bathroom to check there too, for good measure, and you set Lady down, the dog trotting along at your heels. Once you’ve done a loop, you sigh, seeking out a fresh task, and you circle back to the sink, scraping his discarded plate and rinsing it, stacking it in the dishrack. Then, you move towards the TV chair, intending simply to sit yourself down and wait for Richard to come home. After all, you’re here now - you may as well say hello; or, maybe you can even prepare him dinner after his long shift, you muse.

As you revisit the small, rickety table, however, your eyes more keenly notice that a bunch of papers are strewn over it, all identical- a series of pastel pink leaves of paper and envelopes.

Letters.

Handwritten, in his familiar scrawl.

Letters addressed to you.

Your brow furrows in confusion, as you wonder what they could be. You don’t want to invade his privacy, of course, but perhaps this is something that’s meant for you? After all, sometimes he leaves you notes when you come over to feed or walk Lady.  

Still, this feels different, and, with a lump in your throat that you don’t quite understand, you pick up one of the leaves at random, skimming the first line, yet feeling only more confused than you did before.  

You see your name at the head of the paper, followed by the words “my dearest love,”, and underneath, some other half-formed paragraphs, scribbled over and crossed out.

No, you shake your head, your stomach flipping over. That can’t be right, you think, even as your fingers scramble for another leaf - for leaf upon leaf, until you piece together what’s going on. Until, with every line you read, fragments of both English and Spanish, you feel as though you are piecing together his heart.

Could it be true? Is this really true?

Your fingers dive for a sheet more developed that the rest, where you see paragraphs of writing, and you devour the words like you are starved of love; for you are, aren’t you? Starved? And yet, you suddenly feel so full. Brimming.

My darling,

There are infinite ways to fall in love. Some are elemental, like a raging fire. A shock of lightning on first sight. Some are slow-burning and constant, the heat of friendship warming your hearth, defrosting your iced fingertips when you come in from the cold.

There are infinite ways to fall in love, and I should know, my heart, as I have experienced every one of them with you.

You can barely read the rest as tears blur your eyes, and your hand comes to clamp over your mouth as realisation sinks through to the pit of you, the page quaking -like a leaf- in your fingers.

You make my heart beat like a drum. When I look at you, I am music, without being played. When you’re with me I am dancing, without movement. If only you would touch my skin, I feel like I would sing. If only you would-

“-Are you safe? Are you alright?” Richard asks from behind you, and you tear your eyes away from the page with a start. You were so absorbed by this swell of beating music that you didn’t hear the scrape of his key in the lock. You didn’t hear his hurried footsteps coming up behind you.  

“Richard,” you suspire, and for once his touch is on you without hesitation, his hands clasped around each of your shoulders, slowly running down your arms, and you nod quickly to reassure him, your mouth opening wordlessly. You’re safe.

His touch is warm through your clothes, and you think he is right- your skin would sing for him too if he touched you. Your love rattles you, like drums beating musically in your chest, pulsing through your body.

Then, Richard clocks your sideward, guilty glance at the pile of letters, and you see his panic instantly surface at the thought of all his unsent and unspoken words laid bare before you. All the pieces of his heart exposed.

At first, he looks apologetic, but then you step forwards a little more, into the circle of his arms. Arms which suddenly fall, unsure, at his sides once again. And, achingly slow, endlessly sure, you lift up you hand and you place it on his chest, over his heart, smoothing over his shirt and over the cool metal of the shield he wears there. You feel his heart really is beating like a drum. His chest is rising and falling beneath your hand, his breath quickened – eyes nervous.

You step a little closer, and your fingers continue their slow crawl, dancing up around his collar, inching further up until your fingers finally brush the bare skin at the nape of his neck, pushing up into the curls behind his ears, your thumb skimming his sideburn. You touch him, with your fingertips, and he does sing for you, a half-choked moan leaving his mouth at your tender caress.

“Richard,” you say breathily, searching his face, eyes openly appraising his beauty. “Don’t worry, sweet man. I love you too.” And, when you next meet his eyes there is no nervousness there. Not any longer. Instead, you find his dark, expressive eyes brewing with adoration, and that gentle but ever ascending note of passion.

“Darling, can I kiss you?” he pleads, his voice dogged by desire, his brow knitting together and his hands slipping bravely to your waist, circling you as you arch into him.

“Yes. Yes,” you say, and his mouth meets yours in a desperate, tumultuous crush. You sing too, your skin thrumming as you finally know the feeling of his thick moustache brushing against you. As you taste the sweet flavour of cherry sucker on his kiss. As you finally feel the texture of his slicked curls beneath your fingertips.

You kiss, urgently, until you are each smiling too broadly to continue, and instead Richard beams and presses sweet, intermittent kisses all over – your cheeks, your forehead, your hair, your neck- his moustache tickling wherever it touches. His hands are everywhere they can be politely, roaming over your back and your arms and your hair, and it feels so good to finally be held like this.

Eventually, he pulls back, his smile no longer tugging at his lips so keenly -lips now kiss flushed with deep colour- but shining in his liquid eyes. “How long have you loved me back?” he asks in a still choked, disbelieving voice.

You bite your lip, but then allow your face to split in a radiant, unrestrained grin.

Always. Always. I loved you first, you think.

You reach for your bag, reluctant to break from him so trailing your love’s hand in yours- and you fish out the letter. The one you’ve carried around since it was returned to you. “Take a look, Richard,” you encourage.

He looks from you to the small envelope, turning it in his spare hand as you pass it to him. “What is this?”

His brows rise in confusion as you tap the stamped postmark with your index finger. Years. Years ago.

“I sent you a letter,” you explain. “Telling you I loved you. That I love you,” you correct, squeezing his hand tightly in yours, amazed at how natural it feels already, to touch him.

He audibly gasps in air, looking pained. Devastated. “I never got it. I would’ve-“, he fumbles for words, but he can’t finish them, the magnitude of all those years lost to yearning too big to wrap his lips around. “I never got it,” he repeats sorrowfully.

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about that now,” you soothe. “I got your letter.” And, as you engulf him with your arms a soft smile takes over his features once again. He can’t help it.

“I’m so glad you did,” he beams, drawing you to him for another kiss, which you eagerly accept, opening your mouth to him.

God, he’s a good kisser, his tongue in you deep and eager, and the heat generated is quick to catch, a fire lit in the pit of you. That moustache is a divine thing too, his lips soft and full beneath, his mild-mannered tongue positively sinful as it works against yours.

Letting the kiss grow, you grab hold of him by the belt to draw his body closer to yours, arching your hips into his, and you feel an impressive bulge greet you as you do so.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers bashfully, angling his hips away from you, in case you’re not ready for… that yet. “You’re perfection. So perfect, I… I’m a little bit, uh, excited.”

You don’t blame him. You’re a little bit excited too. There’s a drum beating in your chest. Music in your heart. A song everywhere. A dance in your body.

“W-would you like to take me to the bedroom, Richard?” you purr, softly. “We’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

You wish you could capture the bliss which sparks in his eyes then, and keep stoking it forever more. His whole being glows as if you are the sun shining down on him. He loves the sun on his face. He loves you.

He loves you.

*******

Later that night:

At some point after round three, Richard is ravenous, and so you head to the kitchen to grab some snacks. One of Richard’s plaid shirts wards off the slight chill, settled over your otherwise naked body. As you microwave something quick, you can barely keep the smile from your face – even more so as you glance over at the table full of half-finished letters. As the microwave pings and you grab out the plate, another idea occurs to you, and you simply can’t help yourself.

So, you pad mysteriously back towards the bedroom, where Richard is waiting. The blanket is slung low over his hips, skimming the dark trail of hair which draws your gaze down beyond his abdomen. He is covered, and yet you bloom blissfully with heat at your new-found knowledge of what lays beneath. He’s laying with one hand folded behind his head, and one hand rested on the soft, roundness of his stomach, which you had laid your head on only moments ago.

Richard’s eyes shine with unadulterated admiration as you enter, and you flash him a mischievous smile as you transfer the plate to his hands, and subsequently tip a cascade of his letters into the middle of the bed.

“What’s all this?” he asks, with a contented laugh as you bounce eagerly into bed by his side, humming in equal contentment as you slot yourself under his arm.  

“I want you to read them to me. Will you?” you ask, sweetly, and he looks bashful all over again. “No-one has ever sent me a love letter.”

“Me neither,” he chuckles. “Or I thought so…”

He hesitates, perhaps feeling shy, but he wraps his arm around you securely, nuzzling you into his side as he picks up the closest leaf of paper.

He hums gratefully as you begin to stroke his smooth chest. He really does sing whenever you touch him.

“They’re not finished,” he caveats. “I wanted to find the perfect words and I… I couldn’t.”

“The words don’t have to be perfect. It’s more important that they’re delivered,” you say, your voice soft as you sink into him, and so, he gently clears his throat and he begins to read, his words and his rich, soothing voice filtering over you like warm sunshine.

After a moment listening, and letting his love and his letters envelop you, you interrupt him gently. “My sweet man. Promise me you’ll never write me another love letter?”

“Are they that awful?!” Richard exclaims.

“No!” you laugh, into his chest, tipping your chin up to look him in the eyes. “They’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. It’s just… I think I hate love letters, Richard. They’ve only ever kept me from you.”

His expression becomes wistful, lost in thought until a smile finally captures him. Then, with a finger curling gently under your chin, he dips down to plant a small kiss to the very tip of your nose.

“No more letters then,” he promises softly. “Let’s always promise to say it out loud from now on. Let’s talk every day.”

You heart full, you bring your hand up to caress his cheek, before planting a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips; and, despite what you’d just suggested, you plead for him to keep reading to you, his voice and his love lulling you to sleep in his arms.

With the love letters as kindling, your dim spark finally catches, your fire now blazing. You set it in a hearth in your chest, and you vow to keep it stoked for always.

THE END

Bonus:

[softlyjiminie]

to hold a dragon’s heart | k.t.h

⇢ pairing(s): dragon prince!kim taehyung x warrior princess!reader,

⇢ word count: 19.1K.

⇢ rating: 18+, mature.

⇢ genre: smut, angst, fluff,  forbidden romance, dragon shifter!au, royalty!au, enemies to lovers!au.

⇢ summary: two kingdoms, two hearts and the world between them. your whole life has been a challenge,  never an easy moment on your road to becoming queen but will one decision, one encounter with the man you were destined to hate, change the fate of your worlds, forever?

⇢ warning(s): please read! major character death, violence ( torture scenes + fight scenes ), war, cursing, alocholism, unrequited love, arranged marriages, failing marriages,  imprinting, painful sickness, unexpected pregnancies, slight prejudice against mythical creatures and women, heavy smut, unprotected sex ( please wear protection ) , virgin + dom!taehyung, virgin + sub!reader, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, oral sex ( male + female recieving ), nipple play, light degredation + dirty talk, breeding kink, cumplay, creaming, cunnilingus, slight exhibitionism, male masturbation,   taehyung has a two-headed penis (with spines), teaehyung has charcoal flavoured cum— i may have gotton carried away…

⇢ author’s note(s): hello everyone! this is my contribution to the @ficswithluv​ Love Library project! i was a part of the fantasy category with @jamaisjoons​ !! i worked really hard on this fic, and it’s probably my biggest work, i’m so proud of it so i really really hope you guys enjoy and leave some feedback <3

⇢special mention(s): i would like to thank my baby, miss gia of @fantasybangtan​ for helping me muse and giving me inspiration to complete this fic, as well as giving me feedback on this hefty boy n making it’s beautiful banner !! ( also i named the sea after you ) anddd my little babie @fantasyjoon​ for letting me name a kingdom after her teehee. I wuv u guys <3

two kingdoms, two hearts and the world between them. your whole life has been a challenge,  never an easy moment on your road to becoming queen but will one decision, one encounter with the man you were destined to hate, change the fate of your worlds, forever?

on opposing sides of the enchanted forest, lay two kingdoms. one, painted with magic and mystery, from the soils to the creatures that rules the skies. the other, a land blessed with human life, cultivation and opportunity.

the Avalerian dynasty, land of the mystical and the Phantis empire, land of the man. both peaceful kingdoms, until war struck.

when you were young and with a curious mind, when tales of battle between warrior and warlock were used to put your infant heart to rest, you would ask questions. many of them, but one always seemed to snub the minds of your elders. 

“why do we fight the war? why did it start?” you would beam curiously up at your mother, Queen aadaya. she was a beauty, hair dipped in the white snows of the Huntcan tip mountains, laced with the silver moon at its highest. her skin was smooth, illuminated by starlight and her heart, as pure as any gold. but queen aadaya was a warrior, trained in the arts of her people, like her mother and her grandmother before that. she had hoped to one day, train yourself and your siblings as well.

your mother shuffled over on the bed, squishing your eldest brother, hoseok and yourself, while pulling your younger sister—tamarae, into your lap. 

you remember so clearly, your mother tilting her moon crescent eyes and brushing back the hair on your face. “we fight for safety, of you and all children.”

lies.

you had yet to learn, as a naive little five year old, what war could do to innocents such as your mother. such as your people. war was not kind to anyone it met, it’s  raging scent of death and decay and blood reaching every corner of your once ethereal home until nothing was left. nothing but sadness, loss and a hole in your heart. 

you lost your mother by order of assassination on the night of your eighteenth birthday. they say, as a revenge attack, for the death of the dragon king but it was then that you learned that war took no prisoners, it had no mercy. war was not like the lullabies and stories your mother told. that day, the kingdom mourned the loss of their queen, and you mourned the loss of your mother, the safety she promised, a lie on the ghost of her lips. 

hoseok was drafted into the war not a year later, his own doing. he trained hard but not as good as yourself, you would joke. he was to keep hold on some land by elvin territory and whilst it wasn’t much, it was everything to your brother. hoseok could do something to avenge his mother. the day before his deployment, you sat with your siblings on your bed like you would as children, sneaking snacks from the chef’s daughter that hoseok promised to wed on his return. the three of you giggled and smiled and reminisced, ending the night with tears and tight grips on each other, praying that your family would be together again.

years later, you sit aged twenty one in front of the royal court. with hoseok gone and your father unfit to rule, you were next in line to inherit your mother’s throne. the chair itself, towering with a twisted golden design, was forged from the molten treasures of the dragons themselves. tamarae sits to your left, poised in a lesser dramatic chair and gown and to the right of you, your advisor, jungkook.

“why have you come?” your voice drifts through the throne room, eyes narrow on the pathetic excuse for a man before you. your father rises from his kneel, watching you with pleading eyes. in the years between now and your mother’s death, any relationship with your father had dwindled. he grew power hungry, gambling away any riches in hoping what he earned would replace the loss in his heart. he drunk whatever he could find, rendering himself ill. you often wondered why your mother ever allowed such a man to father her children. 

“i come, with but a suggestion, daughter.”

tamarae looks to you, worry struck on her young, delicate features. yet, your steely gaze remains in line with your father’s, an anger brewing in your stomach. it was not uncommon for your father to want to challenge you in front of the court, undermine your power as you made your road to queen. you had yet to prove yourself, according to the court but you hand an inkling feeling that was your father’s doing.

 “a suggestion, pray tell?” you jest, replacing your glare for a delicate smile. a giggle bubbles from your lips, making the lords and ladies flinch. “my people and armies are fed, the livestock and farms are thriving, we have hold on all land claimed by men and yet, dearest father, you continue to doubt me.” like your mother, you had many who doubted your role as a women in power, you learned to be kind but ruthless, in order to survive. 

the man himself, withered to the bone with sagging old eyes and a wheeze in his chest, rises from his knees with a dark glint in his eye. “my grace, whilst i mean you no disrespect, but by royal decree you are still unfit to rule,” he explains, gesturing to the court with wide arms. “you lack one thing.” 

narrowing your eyes, you lean forward in your throne as your jewellery glitters and rustles around your neck. the tension in the room is thick, a knife would barely be able to cut it, “like, what?” 

“a king.” 

you rip your body from your seat, sister following suit along with your royal guard. how dare he? the sick man, run along and say you needed a king to help guide you as queen. your mother had managed just fine on her own, taking the throne from a young age and resisting the temptation of men. until she met your father, a lowly bread maker and made him the man he is today. 

he had always envied her power, much as he did with yours. 

“a king? a king like you? pathetic and on his knees like the drunk bastard he is. i digress,” you seethe, much to the amusement of your court. but your father knows your wit, knows your weakness, after all he is the man who raised you. 

“it is by royal law, for a young queen to marry, my dearest YN...” the man begins, tilting his head up at you as he basks in the support of the lords and ladies around him. “and if you want to prove yourself worthy to the court, i suggest you start, with accepting a suitor.” 

“ridiculous!” 

an advisor from beside you, the predecessor to jungkook, steps forward wordlessly and blinks to you as if he’s asking permission to speak. “with all do respect, your highness, your father does have a point...it is required of you by law to...” 

their words are silenced with a quick glare, your nostrils are flaring from how angry you are and suddenly the blue silk gown that you wear is too tight and too fitting. tamarae places a hand on your shoulder to help calm your nerves, your little sister had always been in tune with your emotions, much like your mother had.  the young princess even resembled the queen, with tumbling wisps of snow white hair and kind eyes. 

“breathe,” she whispers to you, helping you fix your poise. “you’re doing just fine.” 

standing up talk, you ease your shoulders and smile smugly at your father. “since the men of this room, seem to doubt my ability to lead... i will prove the council before me, wrong,” your grin only widens when they ask you how, and you feel your sister’s worrisome stare burning into your cheeks. “by bringing you the heart of a dragon.” 

“don’t be ridiculous, your highness!” 

a lord from goodness knows what county calls, you only roll your eyes, making your way down the steps to pass your father smugly. the court has broken into a series of whispers, anxious, excited and concerned. the men around you have grown complacent, too comfortable with the idea of overthrowing you and making you weak. 

“silence!” you bellow, turning to address every being in the room. you hum in satisfaction as the quieten down, letting your mantle made of the finest cotton, trail behind you. “no man, no king has ever brought the heart of the dragon to this kingdom. if i am to prove myself worthy to you, then this is how it shall be. laugh if you must, doubt me if you will. but i was born and raised a warrior and in my mother’s footsteps, i shall follow.”

with that, the meeting is concluded and your father is left gobsmacked, once again. 

“don’t do anything stupid, YN,” tamarae mumbles to you that evening. you stand in her quarters, dressed in traditional fighting gear. the pants are a dark grey, patterned with swirls of a lily flower and embroider with your kingdom’s emblem of a crystal lily. the top matches, only this time you wear padding to ensure your protection. “and make sure you don’t get hurt.” 

you scoff, shuffling on a cloak and pulling the hood over your head to disguise your face. royalty wasn’t allowed out of the palace after dark, due to the risk of unexpected assassination. the council put the law into place after the tragic loss of their beloved queen. “as if I’d ever allow myself to experience any form of pain.” you tut, twirling around to locate your sword.

the weapon had been a gift from your mother, on the day of your eighteenth. she had deemed you a  worthy warrior, fit for battle after many years of training. it was a shame that she would not be able to see  you use it now. 

“you know what i mean, YN,” your younger sister sighs, pushing herself to stand and handing you the sheathed sword. a bright smile pulls at your lips and you lean down to press a kiss into her moonlit hair. “what if you don’t bring back the dragon heart? you’ll call yourself a fool and beat yourself up about it.”

“i won’t, i promise,” you hum, shaking your head down at tamarae. she was young and she worried for your recklessness, much like a mother would for her child. guilt was deepset within you, despising how your sister grew up barely remembering the woman who gave her life. “now if anyone asks...” 

“you wish not to be disturbed.” tamarae gives you a soft smile, manoeuvring her hands to grip yours. she gives them a gentle squeeze before backing away.

you give your sister a quick nod of the head before sliding out of her window and slipping into the night. 

the enchanted, Mailtaria forest was nothing like you had imagined. 

according to fairy tails, it was full of beasts and blood and gore but instead, you found twisted oak trees forming the shapes of hearts, soil that illuminated beneath your feet. the air was crisp, yet some how, warming and scented with the faintest of flowers. 

roses. 

you know in your heart, that if the war was nothing but a myth, yourself and your siblings could play here for hours on end as children. as you walk, your mind drifts to hoseok, wondering if he’s safe. the eldest of your siblings had been determined to fight the war ever since your mother’s passing, a headstrong boy who was fast on his feet but not with his mind. 

the crack of a snapping branch in the distance kicks your senses into overdrive, making you duck in anticipation of a sudden attack. with a hand hovering over the sheath of your sword, you inhale deeply through your nose to keep your heart rate steady. there is no time for nerves, YN, no time for hesitance. 

dragons were not creatures of remorse. 

you ease yourself out of the bushes, mindful of the ruffling leaves that glow with some kind of fluorescence, magic that you’d not once laid your eyes on in your entire life. had you not been in the deep wood of the enchanted forest, to find and kill the dragon prince, you would have admired them more. 

“why do you come, bearing a weapon?” 

perhaps you may have spent too long, admiring the glistening petals.

you gasp, whipping out your sword and holding its point to the throat of the boy before you. slowly, your eyes trail upwards, shock connecting in your irises as you realise that he’s...floating. the boy has the hair of the silver moon, eyes as deep blue as the rough and raging Gialara seas, his lips are the colour of a blood rose with small and pearlescent fangs resting comfortably against their plumpness. he also wears a loose silk shirt that hangs simply from one shoulder, exposing his pale and slightly scaled skin. his pants are also lose, black in colour like the night sky to match his shirt. you note, that while he floats upside down, head tilted back towards you and body arched, he is also barefoot. 

this must’ve been him, this must’ve been. “the dragon prince,” you hum cooly, steeling your eyes and reaffirming your stance. “i’m here to kill you.” your brows furrow in concentration, and the boy’s, in confusion. the dragon prince, pushes his bottom lip into a pout as he twists his body to face you fully. he sets himself down, against the plush grass and uses a single finger to flick your sword to the side. 

“you have found me, yes,” the boy nods, giving you a tilted and faint smirk after his curious stare fades away. “i am kim taehyung, son of Veles and prince of the dragons...” the dragon watches as your stance falters, mouth open in shock at his strength to manipulate your mother’s sword. your palms begin to sweat at the sound of his full title, the name of the dragon king reminding you of the loss of your mother. “and i know, you will not kill me. i sense your being is far too compassionate to kill a living thing.”

you huff, dropping your arms and sending the vile thing a seething scowl. “you don’t know a thing about me-“ 

“my apologies, princess YN, i’m afraid i don’t,” taehyung interrupts you, stepping forward to inspect you closely. it was almost as if he had never seen a human before, but then again he was nothing like what you expected, especially in a dragon prince. before you can blink, you have been cornered into a tree, completely vulnerable and in the open. if he wanted to, taehyung could kill you right then and there, for the first time that night, a sprinkle of fear and adrenaline pumps it’s way through your veins. you  glance up at the regal creature, shocked that he even knew such detail about yourself and bite your lip. “in that case, might you enlighten me as to, why you seek to take my life?”

taehyung is not what you expected at all, the question bouncing softly from his lips, as you begin to loosen up. his eyes shift to yellow under the light and you start to feel warm, as if you can trust him. “my father wants proof, that i would make a great and honourable Queen.” you explain bluntly, unsure of why the words feel foreign when mentioning it.

“interesting,” the prince comments, quirking  a brow and smirking down at you as he rises off of his feet. “humans and their need for death and honour, i will never understand.” 

and with that, taehyung disappears into the darkness of the forest. a chill runs up your spine, confused at your meeting but left wondering, what more was there to the dragon prince?

“...and then there’s the marriage proposal from prince seokjin, from the shatus kingdom overseas, would you like me to accept or deny?” jungkook drawls, feeling accomplished as he skips over the final sentence with a light frown. his heart clenches, but he doesn’t say anything further.

“yes, very good jungkook.” 

“YN...”

“mhm...”

jungkook sighs, closing his book before tucking it under his arm for safety. he wouldn’t have been so annoyed if you were at least, half listening to him. tapping his foot in annoyance, the young advisor furrowed his brow deeply. “well in that case, i’ll spread word to  the royal bakers that you will be requesting a cake made of pigs slop for the wedding party?” 

“sounds wonderful,” 

“...we’ll even give out small favours of their droppings too...”

“i’m sure the dukes and duchesses would love that, jeongguk...”

“i’m sure the whole kingdom would be delighted to know that you’re marrying kim seokjin.” 

you slam your palms down on the windows, whipping your head to look at jungkook in shock. an amused grin tugs at his lips, as he approaches you to ruffle your hair fondly. now you were paying attention. “i will do no such thing!” you protest, pink painted lips forming a pout as you make an effort you lay down your tundra of wild locks. “me? marriage? what a preposterous idea. i should have you executed for that.” 

“maybe now, you’ll learn to listen to me, your highness?” the raven haired boy titters, giving you an exaggerated bow. “you could never do such a thing to your oldest friend, YN.” yourself and jungkook had been acquainted ever since you could walk, a beautiful friendship blossoming over the many years. his father, had been your mother’s most trusted advisor during the war, he too passing away after the loss of your queen. it seemed that fate had its own twisted way of keeping yourself and jungkook together, for he wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps, much like you.

shaking your head, you push at his shoulders with a hidden grin and listen to the chime of his medallions as he sways. the silver lily on his chest, the symbol of the royal court, glistens much like the eyes of the man you met last night. taehyung’s beauty had entranced you so much, that the task at hand had been forgotten. of course, no one in the castle expected you to bring the head of a dragon back straight away...but something in you longed to see the awe, the shock and the respect on their faces when you did. they would learn to see you as their queen. 

but something about taehyung, made you weak in the knees. an inexplainable feeling, a shy tint to your cheeks and a beat in your heart. he was different, not at all what you expected. walking away from jungkook, you pivot on your heel, the flush to your cheeks becoming more obvious by the second. “there will be no more marriage proposals from now on, jungkook. make that clear to the neighbouring kingdoms.” you remark, nodding your head with the wisps of a smile against your lips. 

one of things, about having known you so long, is that jungkook could read you like an open book. the advisor could tell you were distracted, softer. it was almost as if his soon-to-be queen’s resistant and hard exterior had crumbled. this wasn’t your usual rejection of proposal, whereby you would growl and grumble so much so that the Huntcan tip mountains would quake in your presence. no, this was much like the time where the baker’s eldest son, yoongi, had snuck some treats up to your room when you were children. you had developed an infatuation for yoongi throughout your early teenage years, until he left the kingdom to open his own bakery, kissing you behind the rose bush in the royal garden on the night before he left. 

this was fascination, this was admiration. “you like someone,” jungkook teases lightly, a knowing smile tickling at the corners of his lips. “did you find a compatible suitor, is that it?” 

“the throne is my only object of affection,” you sigh, zealously. you twirled, a bright twinkle igniting stars in your eyes as the thought of taehyung’s silver lined ones and you can feel the excitement build in your veins. “a suitor? perhaps not,” the corner of your lips twitch up into a mischievous grin. “but the throne...it is a rather large one, is it not? awfully big for just one person.” 

jungkook raises an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed while his jaw tightens and his tongue pokes into his cheek. “i see, i’ll be sure to have the staff engage in some...extensive cleaning of the throne room. we can’t have her highness leaving messes.” he states, lips falling into a flat line. tilting your head, the glint in your eye dissipates and thick somber feeling fills the room. 

“jeonggukie?” you question with a quiet voice, swallowing thickly at his unexpected change in mood. 

the advisor shakes his head, tussled locks falling over his eyes. jungkook turns, shrugging with the book still tucked under his arms, prepared to leave the room. “if i may be excused, princess, i have duties to attend to.” 

“ah yes, of course...duties.” the whisper falls from between your lips, as you watch him go with an aching chest.

the view at castle ashwyn was one not to be taken for granted. the skies were daubed with gradients of apricot, papaya whip, and cherry blossom pink with dusting of baby power white as cotton candy clouds. the breeze was fresh, tinted with mint and rose, carrying the scents of the many flowers that twirled along the turquoise marble pillars of the castle. 

the grass outside was freshly cut all the way up to the village, where creatures of all kind walked amongst each other. pixies, werewolves, elves and all, living together in harmony and if you squinted hard enough, over the towering trees, you could see where they lived. the humans. 

taehyung hated it. 

the sickly sweetness that constantly surrounded himself and his people, where all that was in the human world was death, despair, greed and power imbalances. he hated the falsities that engulfed his father’s death, how everyone pretended. 

that there was no life of suffering outside of his own.  

it was beautiful here, life touched every corner to cover the illusion of the war beyond these walls. the prince felt trapped. he wanted to break free of all expectations, experience the world and see the legends he had been told as a child. taehyung was not a fool to the whispers, the taunts and teases from the royal courts. they had always doubted him for his optimistic view on the simple things, on them, for humans had taken his father and so he was destined to resent them for the rest of his life. 

“taehyung, my love, what preys on your mind today?” 

taehyung’s mother, the dragon queen, was a soft spoken and wise woman. ever since the death of his father, there had been many attempts to overthrow her from many kinds...including the sirens. and yet, they never once succeed as only royalty of dragon’s blood can bestow the crown. dragons had ruled the land of the Avalerian dynasty since the dawn of time, forging the first crown from the molten minerals buried deep beneath the castle’s soils. they were the most powerful of all creatures, dominating the earth as their large majestic forms but the dragons were also prime game for hunting, their scales and horns could go for up to a hundred gold coins. so the dragons learned to adapt, becoming shifters with a half human form, this allowed them to retain their abilities as dragons whilst allowing them to walk free amongst the humans.

the queen was stunning, and perhaps that is where the young prince inherited his charming look. her scales were of a deep cherry, shimmering under the lights like the brightest of diamonds. her black hair had curled tendrils that spiralled down her back and her skin was tanned by the golden suns of apollo. with piercing, aquatic eyes, queen elantris tilts her head to look at her son, she had always known his shifts in mood and thanked her maternal instinct for being able to read her ominous child.

“it’s nothing, your highness,” the young prince muses simply, turning to his mother with soft eyes and an awkward smile. smiling fondly, elantris shook her head and approached her son, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug. her tail swishes behind her, in her half shifted state, the castle being too small to accommodate for the large size of royally bred dragons. taehyung spares a glance to the older, and shorter woman, squinting carefully to see the diamond-slit irises in her yellowing eyes. it was almost laughable at how well dragons were able to shift between states, taking on a human form is completely desired. that is how they killed the human king. mastering the art of disguise. “perhaps, i am exhausted, i had a rather gruelling night.” 

“deep in thought again, my love dear?” elantris chuckles, brushing back  the fading ashy locks from her son’s forehead. taehyung sucks in a calmed breath, closing his eyes at his mothers warm touch and allows himself to shift too. he is much more relieved to have is tail free, blackened and swishing behind him. his ears become pointed and irises shift into diamond slits. elantris beams as her child transforms. “you’ve been keeping yourself hidden, i see.” 

“i needed to be out, some fresh air to clear the mind, mother...” the prince whines and stretches, shivering as his ash scales form over his skin and hair fades from grey to black. 

taehyung pouts under the gaze of his mother, what a sight to see. the most regal prince, pouting under the amused gaze of his parent. “away with your thoughts, as you always have been, my prince...” elantris lilts and lets go of the boy, moving towards her seat on the throne. the seat itself is glorious, spiralling toward the ceiling with peaks in its molten crystal. “what preys on your mind?” 

the young dragon, ruffling out his hair and adjusting his clothes. he wears a jewelled black jacket, a gradient of white pearls to obsidian diamonds. he adorns a fitting pair of black pants and boots with heels. taehyung shift his gaze to the diluting pink skies above and breathes heavily. “humans...why is that we despise them?” 

taehyung’s mother sucks in a breath,  tongue swiping over the ruby of her lips. the prince turns his body to look at the queen properly, tilting is head and poking his own tongue into his cheek as he eases a brow, awaiting his mother’s answer. “dragons are stubborn creatures, most unforgiving...it is not easy for us to forget,” elantris explains noncommittally, keeping her voice study and demeanour controlled.

“what is there to be forgotten? how did this all start?” 

“that is what we have yet to learn my son, this conflict has been raging on for centuries now, words and swords alike...twisted,” the dragon queen pauses, looking her son directly in the eye. “twisted into lies and fatalities...”

“and so...we fight?” taehyung prompts, his stomach bubbling with unease at his mother’s cryptic words. 

elantris nods, head held high. “and so, we fight.” 

“you are forgiven, you know.” 

you look up from your flower crown, fluorescent roses and tiger lillies woven together by their grass green stems and frown. taehyung is sitting in the trees, his hair is now the colour of a teal tinged with blue while his eyes simmered a warm amber in the cool night. 

meeting taehyung had been nothing but a coincidence, yet you found yourself becoming grateful for your accidental meetings. the clearing you shared with him had followed you to your dreams, being with him under the moonlight now brought you to ease.

“forgive me for what? do tell.” you probe tartly and turn your body in the grass to ask why. the dragon prince drops from the tree and you screw your eyes shut in fear of hearing the sickening crunch that often accompanies broken bones. but instead the prince floats above you, face but mere inches from yours as a taunting smirk touches lightly at his lips. a rosey hue tickles the apples of your cheeks as you look away, cursing the creature from under your breath. 

taehyung smiles and settles himself on the ground, sinking to his knees to aid you in making some flower crowns. “for being human,” the dragon shrugs nonchalantly and picks up a completed crown, leaning forward to place it stop your hair. his lips are a breaths width from your skin, and a warmth bubbles in your chest at the prospect of feeling them against yours, eyes closing. when you open them, you gasp at the proximity of they prince, blinking rapidly and blushing. he’s so close that it seems like he was watching you. “mother says dragons must learn to be forgiving. so here i am, forgiving you.” 

“what makes you think, that you are not required to seek my forgivenesses well?” you counter as a slight aggression weaves it’s way into your question, tilting your head upwards with stern eyes. taehyung bites his lip, slit tongue poking out to wet them at their swell. “should you not owe it to me? while my people die fighting against your best men, do you not believe that an apology from yourself, would be quite fitting?” 

you chose this moment to shuffle away from taehyung, turning to face the trees

in the distance as you pat the heat away from your cheeks. “your people have magic, powers. and mine? nothing but a bare chest, swords and a shield. yet, you do not hear me forcing the forgiveness of my people upon you,” you point out— almost too harshly, twirling a piece of grass between your fingers. “you sit, protected in your realm while only your most powerful touch the bloodied soils. you kill, as do i. i do not seek your forgiveness, but the life of my people instead. the life of young boys,” a pause in your speech allows your mind to flicker back to hoseok, your fingers how clenching the grass within your disgust. “barely fit to fight, that are drafted into the war. women and children who are torn apart. please, forgive me, for not wanting to accept your so called forgiveness.”

“how do you know this? that we only send out best?” taehyung queries nervously, his tone quiet as his feet come into your blurry field of view. he senses in his chest that you’re hurt, scared and in pain. this is what the war did, not to his people but to the humans. it hurt you. everyone. 

the laugh that passes your lips, is cold and cynical. your eyes possess a glassiness, glittering with fresh tears as you look to taehyung with anger painted against your face. “you have just told me.”  

guilt washes over the dragon as he crouches down before you, placing a finger under your chin to tilt your head up to face him. his thumb brushes the tears that spill from the corner of your eyes as his lips form the words that whisper, “i’m sorry.” 

he is sorry for your pain, he is sorry for the burden that you bare on your shoulders. he is sorry that he cannot make it stop, he is sorry. 

the following weeks bring you back to the clearing, where taehyung desperately tries to erase his night of ignorance. you would meet nightly, under the sky with glittering constellations and stars that told a thousand and one stories. you were away from the world where lives were torn apart and the cloud of death was ever growing. 

you were alone and happy.

taehyung would show you many of his tricks, how he could birth a flame just by the click of his fingers. how he could make smoke rise from his ears and nose and how the colour of his hair changed with his mood. the prince had become your friend, a regular occurrence to your life that you could not deal without. 

but tonight, you would be prevented from such luxuries. 

the tips of your fingers dabbed lightly at your lips, buffing the ruby red into your flesh. a maid worked by your side, primping and prepping locks of your hair so that they shone under the crystal lights. your makeup was light, yet fierce, shades of mint and green spreading across your eyelids to match the fitting ballroom gown you wore. it was lace that curled into silver lily flowers,  from the shoulders and down to your hips, twisting into a wide tule skirt that was painted with frosted blues and mint green fading into white. a necklace of pure diamonds rested just above your breast,  a matching crown woven into your tamed hair and a pair of earrings, your mother’s earrings to go with. as you sit still, letting the maids pretty you for the evening to come, you recall a time where you would have loved to be in a dress like this. times where your mother would only faintly dust your cheeks with blush whilst your father readied hoseok in the other room. tamarae was but a twinkle in your mother’s eye back then.

the girl in the mirror stares back at you, the trace of queen aadaya on her skin. closing your eyes, you take a deep breath to calm your aching heart and hum in agreement when the doors to your quarters open. tamarae beamed at you as her own maids helped her inside, she was a gown less bold than your own but equally pretty as fuchsia pinks spiralled soft lavenders. dresses like these were reserved for special occasions, to impress guests from outside castle walls, making a sick shiver crawl down your spine at the thought of elder dukes and lords and men vying for the attention of yourself and the young princess. 

of course,  the banquet for tonight was your father’s doing, in an attempt to find you a suitor right away. he claimed that you had failed to prove yourself in the last weeks, with no trace of the dragon’s heart in your possession. so with nothing but the grace of the queens before you, you accepted his invitation to host a banquet.

“you look beautiful, sister...you’ve grown so well,” you stand slowly, lifting your skirts to make your way over to the young princess. she bows her head in a small curtesy for you causing you to chuckle fondly. you allow your finger under her chin to tilt her head up, smiling softly at the girl, the spitting image of your mother. “now now, you are my sister, tamarae. formalities are not required for tonight, even if it is a special event,” you tease with a whisper in her ear, causing the younger to giggle slightly. “for you and i both know we shall be sneaking into the royal kitchen after the night is done!” 

tamarae tucks a white lock of hair behind her ear, giggling happily as her small hands clasp onto yours. “big sister, we both know hoseokie would have made me take watch if he were here,” she remarks in response  and pokes your nose, ignoring the glares of maids who had spent hours perfecting your look. 

as a young adult— becoming a queen, the ballroom was often a reminder of simpler days whereby warm summery breezes wafted through the large french windows, carrying soft scents of the fresh lemons and oranges that grew in the royal gardens. hoseok would have been chasing you down, playing the role of big bad dragon whilst you pulled a fumbling two year old tamarae behind you. your parents would always come running in to save the day, mother playing the knight that took hoseok down and your father the one who saved his two princesses. 

those were happier times, better times.

before you knew it, you were seated on the throne with the best view of the entire room. the ballroom had towering white pillars sprouting like flowers against a mahogany glossed wooden floor, the walls are splashed with an egg-shell blue with small cherry blossoms contrasting against the colour. accents of gold decorate every nook and cranny of the room and the ceiling paints a picture of fairytale creatures dancing amongst the man. men gallop across the hall with blushing ladies in their arm, those who aren’t dancing are stuffing their faces with the array of sweet treats and savoury delights that are positioned precisely against white sheet banquet tables. 

introductions pass without you paying any mind, distracted by thoughts of taehyung whisking you away to your clearing in the forest, playing with the many creatures there. you slip back to reality when a sudden pain spreads across your left rib, making you scowl at the culprit...tamarae. the younger smiles sheepishly and points to the man apparoaching your throne. 

his hair is a soft, candy pink, contrasting with the black blouse and dress pants he wore. when he bows to yourself and your sister, you catch a glimpse of his dark, misty brown eyes and find yourself curious to search them more. “he’s handsome,” tamarae teases you, moving to stand up as he steps forward. her gaze flickers up to your stoic face as she giggles. “don’t you think?” 

“he looks like he’s full of himself.” 

the man eyed you darkly while you held out your hand for him to take. “namjoon, kim namjoon...” his voice sends shivers down your spine, good or bad , you’re not sure. his skin is golden like honey and his tone drips with the same smoothness. “of the Kevimore kingdom.” 

namjoon gives you a dimples smile, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lush lips for a gentle kiss. tamarae giggles by your side as you watch the man through your lashes, humming in content. it was always nice to see a man bend his will for you. “you may address me, as princess YN of the Phantis Empire,” you say, equally as smoothly whilst you tilt your head to the side. namjoon straightens his posture, bowing in respect. “i do hope you enjoy your stay here, tonight.” 

with your final word, you turn your gaze to the crowd and watch as they twirl about in tune with the orchestra but smile when you catch the eye of your beloved advisor. you had not danced at a ball like this, since you were a child and back then, hoseok had always been your partner but he wasn’t here now, he was fighting a war that wasn’t his. your sister delivers a sharp elbow to your side, causing you to grunt as you ready to scold her into next year. “ahem,” she whispers, jabbing your side again and nodding her head in gesture to namjoon. “he’s still here.” 

“i’m aware,” 

“that means he requires your attention.” 

“attention that i do not have for a man, tamarae.”

“YN, he’s right there!” 

“and he can hear you...” namjoon interjects with a small chuckle, poking his tongue into his cheek while his lips form an amused smirk. he taps his ear while a light flush rises beneath the skin of your cheeks, much to the prince’s delight. 

you duck your head, imagining that the prince before you gets off at the thought of making you blush. “is there anything i can help you with, prince namjoon?” 

he nods once, pink locks falling into his eyes as his dimples smile appears once more. “a dance, with you? my queen?” 

blinking, your lips part in shock. the only person to ever acknowledge you as the soon to be queen was jungkook, and that was often a joke between the two of you. but for a split second, it seemed— that namjoon’s dark, stormy eyes saw past the extravagance and diamonds— and saw you. the queen you were meant to be. 

“she would love to,” you sister answers for you, pushing at your shoulder to force you to stand. you rise to your feet,  unsteady on them and almost toppling forward. namjoon quickly catches you by the arm, offering you an earth shattering smile with dazzling eyes as he chooses that moment to lead you onto the ballroom floor. following namjoon, you turn around and give your younger sister a faux frown, sticking your tongue out at her. the maids around you gasp at your behaviour, while tamarae giggles and mocks your face.

upon reaching the dance floor, namjoon skilfully pulls you into his arms, pressing his chest to yours to guide your steps into the waltz. “you’re light on your feet, are you sure you’re not a dancer?” he chuckles quietly into your ear, making goosebumps arise across the planes of your skin. 

you turn with him, taking the lead from his grasp and smile cheekily. “i’m trained to fight, being light on my feet is part of the battle.” but your grin quickly falls upon seeing jungkook turn away with disappointment, what was going on with him? 

“ah, i see.” the prince falls silent at your words, offering you a quiet noise of agreement as the pace of the music rises and you start to speed up your dance. 

namjoon is a handsome man, his terracotta lips seem warm and inviting, his eyes although dark make you want to lose yourself in him. the prince is tall, at least a head or so taller than you and his arms that hold you are firm and large. namjoon is attractive but...

but he is not taehyung. 

the pink haired prince dips you, face hovering over yours as he takes a moment to tuck a fallen hair behind your ear. your cheeks heat up at his proximity but you swallow down your nerves and stutter out. “n-namjoon...i,” 

“you’re beautiful, my queen,” he says simply, running a thumb over your bottom lips before he pulls you back into his chest. “what i wouldn’t give to have you ruling by my side.”

“e-excuse me?”

“you’d make an excellent wife, YN.” 

gobsmacked, you try to rip yourself away from namjoon but his grip on your waist is too tight and suddenly he no longer looks charming and gentle, a sinister stare taking over his features. “let me go, namjoon. by order of the princess i demand that you let me go!” you scoff at him through gritted teeth still struggling in his grip. “if you believe that flattery will get you my hand in marriage then you are severely mistaken, my prince. i am a queen born to rule without a man, and i shall do so, just fine.” 

namjoon tilts his head in a sympathetic fashion, pressing you closer to him. “oh but princess, we are already on the path to being wed,” he hums, his lips ghosting over yours as you squirm away from his touch. “by order of your father, i am set to marry you three weeks from now, since you failed to bring the head of the dragon prince.” 

“no that’s not, it can’t be...he wouldn’t...he wouldn’t do that,” you mumble, feeling panic rise in your chest and lodge itself in your throat. your perfect world suddenly shatters, your view for the future torn to shreds. your father had sold your soul away to namjoon, who you now saw as a man who yearned for power. “he can’t.”  

“then your father is not the man you believed him to be.” namjoon concludes. “now put on a pretty face and smile for our loyal subjects, my queen.”

you gasp with tears beginning to flood your field of view, your eyes searching in the crowd for someone, anyone to tell you it’s not true. who’s face falls at your wounded expression, he knows, you think. jungkook knew and he didn’t think to tell you. your heart shatters into a million pieces and all you can think is out out out. you need to get out. 

but for now you turn to namjoon and give him a dazzling smile through your tears, as jungkook watches you with a guilty gaze.

running.

they say that running is able to clear your mind. but instead all of your thoughts and fears ran wildly beside you as you bolted through the forest. you could feel them, all of your worst nightmares crawling up your spine and scratching at your skin as you tumbled through the forest. 

by the time you reach the clearing, you’re clawing at your throat and desperately gasping for air through your choked sobs. you can’t marry namjoon, you won’t marry namjoon. your body trembles with the sobs that wrack your tiny frame, the dress that you wear is suddenly too tight and all you can do is wail for an escape. 

“YN! you have returned, i have to admit i missed you dearly-“ taehyung starts to ramble, just having come from a flight amongst the canopies. the dragon cuts himself off when he notices you collapsing onto your knees and tearing at the dress. “princess YN? YN, are you alright?” he drops to his knees beside you, tilting your head up to look him in the eyes. the prince hates the way your chest is heaving, how a wild panic has spread through your darling eyes. “breathe for me princess, it’s alright, i’ve got you.” 

your eyes stay with his as taehyung coaches you through, his ice like irises calming you down as they watch you with concern. the dragon prince brushes a hand through your hair to soothe you as you hiccup and sniff, attempting to ease your panic. “off, i want it off, all of it...” you grumble moving to tear at your gown. taehyung follows your movements, using a  shifted dragon claw to shred off the remains of your skirt and help you out of the tight fitting corset until all that remains is your sheer and tule petticoat. 

“better?” your companion asks, pulling you into his silk shirt. taehyung is warm, much morse so compared to the cool evening, you remember him explaining that dragons have a heart of coal. meaning that the blood that flows through them is heated and molten. 

you nod shakily and move to hold his hand as a wave of comfort washes over you. “much, thank you taehyung.” 

“are you going to tell me what happened?” the prince presses gently, not wanting you to hold it in. if there was anything taehyung had learned about you in the last few weeks, is that you never had an outlet. you were closed off from the world, locked away and never let anyone see the vulnerable sides of you and yet...you somehow found it in you to trust him. 

nodding slowly, you turn and bury your face into his firm chest, fisting at the silk of his new azure blouse. “my father...” you sigh, letting your breath even out as you stumble to find the words. “he betrayed my trust...he turned the court against me and made them promise me to another man...” you feel taehyung’s breath hitch as his chest moves. quickly, you move to look up at taehyung and all you can think to do is kiss him but you can’t, not when you’re now promised to another. “i don’t love him, i could never be in love with someone so horrible.”

the now raven haired, dragon prince says nothing, instead choosing to squeeze you closer into his broad frame. he doesn’t look at you, mind racing a million miles an hour. you were to be married. and it wouldn’t be to him. so it is with a waking start that taehyung realises he is deeply, sorely in love with you. his chest rumbled at the thought of another man’s hands on you, kissing you and touching you, touching what was his. without meaning to, you place your hands on taehyung’s chest and grab at his attention. his usual ocean eyes flash with yellow and his primal senses are suddenly full of you. all he can see is your face under the light of the moon and stars, all he can feel is your touch on him and all he can smell is the sweet scent of lilies, of you. 

“tae...taehyung?” you whisper, sniffling as you lean up and tilt his head to look at you. “i will be alright, i refuse to let this stop me from seeing you.” 

he ignores your words, pulling you to stand with him. “lets go for a fly.” the prince says with bright eyes, staring at you.

“a fly? taehyung have you lost your mind-?” 

“it’ll be fun, i promise you. it’ll clear your head.” 

you slowly tear yourself from taehyung’s grip, holding your hand to your chest with a nervousness swirling in your stomach. flying. taehyung had told you that he was able to fully transform into a dragon, with all the same abilities as well. he called it shifting, and that meant he was able to breathe fire, roar like a mighty beast and fly. “i’m scared...” you admit, sheepishly. “what if...what if i fall?” 

“do you trust me?” taehyung asks sternly, stepping towards you and holding his hand out for you to take. 

“i...what?” 

“i said, do you trust me?” 

you hesitate before closing your eyes tightly and nodding, taking taehyung’s hand. “i trust you.” 

your eyes remain screwed shut as the crunch of bones fills the unoccupied silence of the woods. you flinch at the sound and the slip of taehyung’s hand from yours, whilst his heaves and groans become growls and roars. away from the warmth of taehyung’s body, you realise how cold the forest is in just your petticoat but you’re shivers are quickly ceased when a puff of hot hair surrounds you and a large head nudges your body. opening your eyes slowly, you gasp at the large beast before you, the taehyung that you know has been replaced with an oblivion black dragon, hints of silver and blue illuminating his scales under the shimmering night sky. the dragon presses it’s head to your hand, making you reach out hesitantly as you stare deep into its amber irises. 

‘do you trust me?’ 

you remember taehyung’s words as the majestic beast bows to you, you chuckle and watch as the dragon moves back, stretching out to spread its wings. you imagine that the wings themselves must be as wide as the west wing of your castle back home. when the dragon returns to his original position, you’re met with a puff of warm air, strong enough to blow locks of your hair away from your face. “impatient creature, aren’t you?” you giggle to yourself and clamber up onto taehyung’s head, making him shake it in response. 

with a deep breath, you hold on tightly to the spines feathering taehyung’s neck and close your eyes once more, listening to the sounds of his wings flap as he lifts you both off of the ground. the next time you open your eyes, you’re up in the air, soaring above the clouds. the pair of you are so high that the colour of the sky fades from a soft pink to the deep blue below, the beginnings of the sun shining in the distance. 

then taehyung makes a nose dive. 

the air rushes through your hair as you squeal, heading face first for the land beneath you. taehyung spirals his body as you throw your hands into the air, squealing loudly with happiness, you can feel every fear and doubt that clogged your mind and body rush away with the wind in your face. the dragon prince evens out his body, spreading his wings as you drift across the night sky, watching the world go by with you above it. you lean forward and rest the palms of your hands on taehyung’s, stroking it lightly as you fly past the stars.

when the clearing reappears in your field of view, taehyung tilts his body and begins the descent through the clouds. he flies low, letting you reach your hand out to touch the glistening water below. “w-woah, tae...taehyung!” you cry in amusement, feeling him shift beneath you, his bones realign as he grows tired and reverts back to his human form. his wings somehow manage to remain as the prince’s familiar face returns and he beams up at you. his wings encircle you as you make a crash landing into the clearing. the pair of you roll and tumble out onto the illuminated grass below you, taehyung’s wings protecting you and softening your fall. you manage to uncurl in his grip, landing beneath him as his palms flatten out by your head to stop himself from crushing you. 

“hi...” you pant, looking up at the dragon prince with glittering eyes. your hand reaches up to touch at taehyung’s soft face, his eyes still golden glowing irises and his curled hair now a faded black. he’s beautiful, he always has been but in this moment, you feel like you have finally see him. you can finally see that you love him.

taehyung looks down at you through hooded eyes, moving to run a thumb over your pinkish bottom lip, his breath uneven from the flight. “hello, my queen.” he says simply, face nearing yours. you feel your lashes against your cheeks as your eyes flutter shut, taehyung nosing your cheeks until his soft lips reach your own. hands in your hair, the prince tilts his head and kisses you. his lips mould perfectly against yours and you can feel your heartbeat wildly in your chest as your arms wrap around his neck and fingers curl in his wavy locks. taehyung kisses you like you’re his, and only his and all you want is to feel is him.

taehyung’s hands use a tentative touch as they slide down to your sides, slipping under your petticoat to smooth over your bare skin. you gasp as his lips venture out into the junction at your neck, curling your fingers in his hair as his hands push further and further up your clothes. he roams your skin like foreign terrain— fingers dipping at peaks and the curve of your body.  “taehyung...” you whimper breathlessly, pushing your head back into the lush grass below. 

the dragon freezes at the sound passing from your lips, moving to pull away. “are you hurt? did i hurt you?” taehyung asks worriedly, honey  eyes boring into your soul. you sit up, confused as you shake your head no, wondering if your eagerness to kiss him has driven him away. “i’ve never...i haven’t done this before...” the ravenette adds, gesturing between you both. never done...what? 

oh...

“been with a women before?” you ask gently, sitting up and leaning your chin on taehyung’s shoulder. you tilt your gaze towards him, smiling softly and move to cup his cheek. “i have never...been with a man either...you would be my first.” you whisper shyly, you had little time for courting as a princess, your royal duties taking up much of your time. but here you were, curled up with taehyung on possibly the most beautiful place on earth, feeling more ready than you had ever been.

“let me have you, if you will?” the prince asks lowly, warm breath fanning over your lips.

“you have me, all of me...” 

that was all it took for taehyung to crash his lips against yours once more, this time his tongue tracing over the seam of your own as he pleads for entrance to your mouth. you happily oblige, welcoming his warm tongue with your own in a battle for dominance, dancing together while his large hands pulled at your under clothes. you arched your back, letting him tug the tule garment off of you and spreading your thighs as he nudged them apart. 

“you’re so beautiful,” taehyung murmurs, pulling back from the kiss to admire you. his amber irises darkened to a dark gold as he drunk in your naked body, leaning down to ghost his lips over your neck. “i want to mark you...” he added, biting down on your supple flesh and sucking hard enough to leave a bruise. “fuck you, breed you. would you like that princess?” he growls. 

you arch your back as his hands come to cup your breast, squeezing them between slender fingers whilst he works a trail of purples down to your chest. “god, please...taehyung!” 

chuckling deeply, using his  dragon abilities, the prince blows a gust of hot air over your left nipple once his mouth reaches its destination. his snake like tongue pokes out to lick a stripe over the perky bud before he takes your breast into his mouth harshly, biting down and letting his primal instincts take over. even if he was a virgin, being a dragon, taehyung was genetically programmed to please during breeding seasons. he knew what he was doing, especially when you moaned aloud. 

a hand slips down your sides and into your panties, circling over your clit to spread your wetness as it glistened under the moonlight. “you’re soaking, my princess,” taehyung hums, still squeezing your breast as he sucked your nectar off of his fingers. “may i taste you?” 

“yes, please...” you gasp.

taehyung raises an unimpressed brow, pinching your nipple causing you to whine. “please what?”

eyes rolling, you moan out the only title you can think of, hoping it will urge the dragon on. “please...my king.”  

the prince with obsidian hair curses under his breath, making quick work of tearing off your panties and shuffling onto his belly on the grass so that he nears your entrance. taehyung spreads your lower lips widely, chuckling at the juices that flow from your flower. “so pretty, petal.” he says, watching you writhe under the night air before locking eyes with you through his curled locks. the air that hits your pulsing heat, is cool but taehyung’s breath is hothothot. his lush lips suckle on your clit before his burning tongue swipes over the length of your pussy, heated from his dragon’s core. taehyung sweeps at any of your sweet nectar that gushes from your hole, humming in content before pushing his tongue past your entrance making you cry from pleasure and curl your fingers in his hair. 

“look at you, absolutely dripping just for your king,” taehyung growls against your burning cunt, the vibrations sending your eyes rolling back in your head. desire burns brightly in the pits of your stomach, as you start to rut your hips into his face, the prince having neglected your wetness in favour of whispering foul words into your thighs. taehyung flicks at your swollen clit, making your legs wobble and threaten to close around his head. not that you would mind the view. “such beautiful sight, baby.” 

he dove his tongue into your tight hole, as arousal fogged your senses and his instincts to your body heightened. the world between your sweet thighs was slick, tasting of the most luxurious of treats to taehyung and he could tell he was becoming addicted to you. a finger slipped past your entrance, along with his tongue, thrusting inside of you and catching on the walls of your pussy. you wriggled against the grass, spread out in the open nature whilst taehyung claimed you with his tongue. “m close, m close!” you squealed when taehyung added another finger, fearing that your high was coming to soon. the prince was giving you pleasure that you had never felt before, that couldn’t be achieved with your own hand or imagination. you weren’t sure that you wanted it to end.

nimble fingers gripped at taehyung’s mop of sooty hair as he lapped faster and faster at your sensitive bud, the knot in your stomach becoming tighter and tighter until suddenly...it snapped. “cum for me, princess, reward your king.” 

white flashes behind your eyes as your release crashes over you, signs of your arousal painting taehyung’s chin and face. he licks over his bottom lip, chest rumbling at the taste of you before he moves between your thighs to and up to your face. he kisses you sweetly, once...twice... allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue before deepening the kiss. the pair of you become a pile of limbs, entangled in the grass as teeth and tongue clash together. your hands wind down the path way of the prince’s body, stopping above his belt loop hesitantly. 

taehyung forces himself to pull away from your onslaught of kisses, pressing his forehead to yours— eyes closing with a pant falling from his lips. “you don’t have to...” he mumbles, lips ghosting over yours while he noses your cheek.

 taehyung’s hair brushes softly over your forehand, his eyes tightly shut away from the world as if, when he sees you again, he won’t be able to control himself. you stare up at him, taking in his every mole and freckle that dots his face. you trust him. “i want to, please— let me, my liege.” you insisted, a neediness sparking in your eyes.

“fuck...the things you do to me, princess,” hisses hotly, his cock twitching in his briefs as you rolled him over. the dragon prince quickly stood, helping position you comfortably on your knees before letting his hands fly to the buckle of his breeches. watching him closely, you felt your mouth water in anticipation— you’d never in your life seen a man in full glory before, let alone a mythical creature such as taehyung. you suspected him to be girthy, but your expectations were exceed as he proceeded to roll down his breeches and undergarments in one. 

taehyung’s cock was not only thick and girthy, but lengthy as well, so big that for a brief second, you were unsure that your own two hands would fit around it, let alone your mouth. your jaw dropped in awe as your eyes observe him. “well...uh, there’s something about us dragon’s that.... that perhaps i failed to mention-“ taehyung but his lip with nervousness, his confident and dominant aura suddenly wavering. 

“you have two heads-“ you blurt out, gaze trained on the second head of his forked member. “there’s two!” 

the prince blushes, running a hand through his curled hair and swallowing thickly. “for mating purposes, it increases the success of a female carrying...” taehyung pauses is breathe explanation, frowning deeply as you touch curiously at his cock. “—carrying offspring, princess.” 

the pet name comes out as some what of a warning, making you smile sheepishly at the man above you. “it’s got spines, taehyung...you cant expect me not to touch you!” you defend yourself,  watching him closely. “it’s hot too.” 

“for pleasure purposes, dragons are also naturally hot.” 

“do you think it will fit? i’ve not been with a man before i-“

seemingly sensing the nerves that stir in your stomach, taehyung leans down to grip your chin and tilts your head upwards to catch your eye. “i’ve got you, petal,” he whispers and presses a light chaste kiss to your lips. “do you trust me?” 

“yes, more than anything.” you breathe, settling back onto your knees as taehyung guides your mouth towards his pulsing cock. your eyes trail up his body as he tugs off his shirt from above you, his skin is glazed with a layer of sweat and desire pours through your system like the molten lava that intertwines with his dragon blood. you imagine that he tastes sweet, like the finest wines of the Ubeozia dynasties. 

leaning forward you shakily take taehyung’s tips past your lips, sucking on it hesitantly while he starts to groan. the dragon sucks in a breath from the night air as you take him further into your mouth, looking up at him with sparkling doe eyes. “you’re doing so well, my darling  princess, so good for me.” he sighs.

his cock his hot against your tongue, forming tingling sensation at your lips while you work on bobbing your head. curses fall out from underneath taehyung’s breathy moans whilst his eyes flash golden like Apollo’s sun. his large hands thread between your loosened locks as they tickle at your exposed shoulders, encouraging you to give him more. 

your hands sit small on the base of his girth, fisting at what you cannot fit making a wetness pool between the apex of your thighs as you think about being stuffed full of him. taehyung lets out a small moan, closing his eyes and throwing his head back to face the stars as he shallowly thrusts his length into your welcoming mouth. your tongue works circles around his cock making taehyung’s fingers curl in your hair, massaging your scalp as he gently pushes your hot mouth further down on his pulsing, red hot cock. 

he hisses and grunts when you’re tongue glides over his slit, abdomen clenching as he feels himself fall into his high. you gasp as the dragon paints your tongue with a smokey release, his cum is a foreign feel against your tongue but brings you satisfaction as he quivers through the after shocks of his orgasm. softly, you let go of his member, sliding your tongue over your bottom lip to capture the rest of his cum— keeping your eyes trained on him. 

“how does it taste?” taehyung asks darkly, sinking into his knees to cup your face.

you hum for a moment, parting your lips gently as his thumb brushes over them. “salty, no...ashy.” you conclude, breathing lightly. taehyung quirks a brow, leaning forward to press a searing kiss to your lips, his tongue swipes over your bottom one as he gradually pushes you back into the lush grass, positioning himself between your legs.

“that’s because our release is fuelled by the fires that burn in our hearts,” the prince explains, pulling away from your lips to whisper in your ear. now that you’ve tasted me, it’s time i mark your beautiful little cunt.” 

you gasp as the tips of his thick cock brush as your entrance, instinctively locking your thighs around his hips. your chest rises and falls with the anticipation of having taehyung, the man you love, claim you. you’re in love, you love taehyung with all your heart and now he was to make you his. sighs of adoration fill the air between you as taehyung slowly pushes into your virgin hole, of course, having more than one tip would make it hurt, but only just— making your nails dig into the skin at taehyung’s shoulder. 

he stops is movements, the prince knows that it will be difficult for your tiny human body to handle his stamina and size, after all, you had already cum once and were nearing exhaustion. “i’m sorry, my petal...my queen, i know it hurts,” he cooes, nosing at your neck to ease the pain. one hand curls in taehyung’s thick locks as he fully enters you with one tip of his cock, the second slowly slipping past the lips of your cunt. the dragon prince drops a hand to your clit, slowly rubbing in circles until the pleasure overrides the sting where you bleed. “you’re doing so well for me, taking all of my cock like the good queen you are.” 

taehyung waits for you to adjust as he continues to lazily flick at your bud, while you slowly start to open up for him like the roses at his mother’s place. “please...move taehyungie...move!” you mewl, throwing your head back into the soft grass as pleasure begins to overwhelm your senses.

the prince smiles down at you, taking in the the twisted look of delight against your delicate features and the curve of your breast as you arch your back. taehyung bottoms out inside of you, gently thrusting his length within your tight, dripping walls and closes his eyes at the sound of your sweet moans. you feel like you were made just for him, for him only and when he opens his eyes, he can’t help but lean down and claim your mouth, slipping his tongue past the barriers of your lips when you part them. 

“look at you, princess, so tight for me— your king,” he praises tenderly against your hips, dropping his face to your neck as you tighten around him involuntarily. “you’re mine, made for me and my cock. you got that princess?” 

“yours, yours my king.��� you pant, fingertips dancing across the expanse of your lover’s freckled back.

taehyung deepens his thrusts, the spines on his cock catching against your slick walls as he reaches deeper inside of you. he sucks a little of bruises into your neck, purples, pinks and burgundies painting a picture of his love for you while he works their. your hips lift to match his thrusts, sucking him in as you both move together under the moonlight. the sounds of love filled moans and groans fills the cool air of the forest, long forgotten as taehyung pounds into you, letting you feel every inch of his cock. his grunts send shivers down your spine, making you arch your back into him. taehyung pushes your hips down, pushing his member into your sweet spot causing more of your juicies to gush down your wobbling thighs. 

you bite your lip in an attempt to silence your cries, an unexplainable wave of pleasure coursing through your veins as taehyung yanks your hips down to his. “s’good…please don’ stop,” you slur pathetically into the night, a sheen of sweat dousing your skin, the sound of your desperation making the head’s taehyung’s length twitch inside of you. he wasn’t sure how long he would last, with the way your virgin cunt clamped down on him like a vice. the tightness was almost unbearable, each thrust bringing him closer and closer to the edge. “need you, need you m-my king!” 

taehyung’s mop of hair drops to your collar bones as he bites on them to silence his growls of possession. “fuck me, princess, fuck,” he slurs, his cock swelling as if he’s about to burst. the first head of his member stimulating that special spot, while the other fills your needy hole. “wonder what your courts would say if they saw you like this, princess,” taehyung pants into your neck, one hand sliding between your bodies to stimulate your clit while the other grips your breast, as he leans against you, pressing his hips into yours. “saw their queen spread out for the dragon king so desperate and needy for his dragon cock...fuck baby, what would they say?” 

“t-they’d be ... ashamed!” you squeal, arching your back and lifting your hips to meet taehyung’s thrusts. 

he smirks, fucking into you harder, until you’re full to the brim and you can feel him deep in your womb. “but i wouldn’t be, m’ so proud of my princess for taking me like this...” taehyung pants, looking deep into your eyes, sweaty hair falling over his own amber irises. “cum with me, my love.” 

you grab and pull at taehyung, touching at skin hair and lips as your release starts to creep up on you. the pace of taehyung’s hips never slow but start to become sloppy as your senses become overwhelmed with him. the tips of his cock brush at your spot once more, making you scream with pleasure as the damn finally bursts and you cream on his member, painting him with your release as the first spirts of his cum fill your hole. “taehyung, tae..please,” you cry, soft tears springing in your eyes as he locks his gaze on yours, hips slowing to a grind as he pumps his thick, hot seed inside of you. there’s so much, never ending as his release gathers within your cunt, searingly hot as lewd sounds of your wetness’ mixing fills the air. “i love you...”

your words are barely above a whisper, tears of warmth and happiness spilling from your eyes as taehyung cups your cheeks and swoops down to kiss you lovingly. “i love you so much, more than anything.” he responds, never ending his onslaught of kisses. 

taehyung doesn’t soften inside you, making another wave of neediness wash over your body. he loved you, he loved you just as you did with him. the kisses become sweeter and sweeter, like the finest honey against your tongue and you smile against taehyung’s lips as he lifts you into his arms. “you love me.” it’s more of a statement than a question, but taehyung answers regardless, brushing strands of hair away from your face.

“i will always love you, beyond my dying breath.” 

the dragon scoops you up, carrying you to a nearby tree and leaning back against it, refusing to put you down despite your giggles and protests. you notice, from over his shoulder that moon lillies grow in place of the spot you made love in. “what’s that?” you ask quietly, as taehyung sits, turning you around gently in his lap and barely lifting you from his cock. 

he watches darkly as only small traces of his charcoal black cum seep from your cunt before he follows your gaze to the flowers. “those, moon lillies appear when a dragon has found his or her mate, in place of where they have mates for the first time.” he mumbles shyly, hiding his face in your neck and kissing the back of your shoulder. 

“let’s... let’s make more,” you whisper and admire the flowers that act as a symbol of your love. although your thighs still shake from your last two releases, you pull your hips forward and drag them back against taehyung’s lap, twitching around his length from the overstimulation. your turn your head to face the dragon prince from over your shoulder, watching as his chest heaves with pleasure. “make love to me, dragon king. make love to your queen.” 

taehyung’s hips twitch at your words, the ghost of his fingertips settling on your hips  before gripping them harshly, helping to move you back and forth against his cock. “as you wish my queen,” he mumbles, starting to move his own hips in time with yours. “you’re going to be the death of me, love.” 

taehyung bites down harshly on your shoulder as you begin to mewl, lifting yourself off of your cock and slamming your hips back down. the spines on taehyung’s cock stimulate your spasming, cum soaked walls, catching on each ridge and causing you to shiver. the forest is once more filled with the sound of skin slapping on skin, and a mixture of lost words and moans and ‘i love you’s. you are lost with taehyung, in a world of your own as he claims your cunt over and over again with each thrust. 

you circle your hips, clenching around the thick cock that stretches you open and gasp when one of taehyung’s heads slip out from your tight core. biting your lip, you take a finger and coat it in the remainder of your last orgasms and smear it against taehyung’s tip, thumbing it hardly. the prince groans, hips stuttering as he lets out a loud moan, thrusting into you at a faster pace and circling himself inside of you. “princess, please...fuck me.” 

“forever, my sweet.” you whisper, slapping the head against your cock before pushing it back into your entrance. you rock yourself back and forth, tears of pleasure stinging the corners of your eyes as your sensitive pussy pulses with want. you know, you will not last as long as the previous rounds, indicated by your throbbing clit and collapse forward against taehyung’s legs. the dragon takes this as an opportunity to slap his palm against your bare ass, watching the flesh jiggle at the contact. 

you squeal at the spank, sinking your fingers into the grass as taehyung repeats his ministrations on each of your cheeks. his cock swells with every desperate moan that passes from your lips, stretching your tight cunt open to accommodate for his cum. he wants to breed you, fuck you full of all of his dragon seed and watch your stomach swell at the heavy load. he wants you to have his children. with new found motivation and his orgasm closing in on him, taehyung grabs your hips and forces them down against his cock, slamming into you every time you come down against him. your abused hole drips with newfound wetness and remainders of taehyung’s hot seed as he pushes it further inside of you. 

the pace is wild, and heat flares up between you both as your bodies move together completely uncontrolled. “m gonna cum again...” you gasp as you feel taehyung pound repeatedly into your g-spot. “please, please fill me up.” 

“gonna cum with you princess, gonna breed you with my dragon pups,” taehyung practically whimpers, mumbling an i love you into the air. “gonna fill you up and fuck my cum deep inside you.” he rambles now as his thrusts become erratic. having his length nuzzled inside of you is what pushes taehyung over the edge, beating the feeling of endless hours of pleasuring himself during breeding seasons. he had never held or touched a woman in the way that he did with you. you were his first, and that was what made his heads fill you once more with a heavy load of his seed, shooting further into your cunt as you cream against him once more, pushing your hips down while his cum smears against your clit. “

“taehyungie!” 

you collapse against the grass, panting shakily as taehyung pulls you into his arms again, turning to lay on his side as he pulls you into his chest. he doesn’t remove himself from your body, keeping himself inside you as more of the glowing blue flowers begin to bloom around you. taehyung’s hand settles on your belly as his arms wrap around your waist, rubbing it in circles while he kisses your hair. everything is perfect, just as it is meant to be. you’re in love with the man you had dared yourself to kill, but could now only find it in you to lay with him under the stars. 

“i love you taehyung,” you say for the millionth time that night, drawing patterns into the hand that rests on your stomach. “i won’t ever love anyone else. i am yours and you are mine.” 

“we are one, YN.” taehyung adds, sweetly, holding you closer as you feel yourself start to drift into a sweet slumber. “and i will love you forever.” 

forever. 

you smile at the word, placing his hand over his as you finally fall into sleep. you stay with taehyung, in forest for a night or two, loving each other under the moon.

“and you will see to it that the dragon is captured and killed, immediately?” 

jungkook hesitates, a pause in the air at the prince’s request. when namjoon and the king had asked the young advisor to follow his queen out into the woods, he had never expected to see what he did. the nights where you would disappear for hours on end, coming home with scorch marks and ruffled hair all seemed to make sense now. you were with the dragon prince, the one who’s heart you had promised to capture. except, only you could not do it, you had been soft in the heart. a trait that lay with your deceased mother. 

jungkook had seen you take round after round of the dragon’s cock, wishing that he could be in place of the beastly creature. he hated how that thing claimed you like he had been trying to for years, he despised how he fisted himself to orgasm behind the trees as he watched you cum for the dragon, moan for the dragon, love for the dragon. jungkook hated himself for betraying you due to his own jealousy, he wanted to see the dragon pay for what it had done to his queen, his love. and although, the advisor was unsure of what namjoon planned to do with the information, jungkook knew the least he could do was set you back on the right path. 

he had already owed you this debt, in where he failed to warn you about namjoon. perhaps, he would make it up to you by freeing you from the dragon’s grip. 

“jungkook...”

“yes my liege, we will send our best troops to their location and have him captured within the next week or so...” the boy explains, rubbing a thumb over his knuckles nervously. why does guilt rein free in his mind? he was doing what was best for you. 

prince namjoon nods proudly, nodding his head and standing from his seat to leave the dining room. the prince had moved into the palace due to your absence over the last three days, presumably to take over rule as your father was too sick to do so. namjoon was brought in to have you wed before your father’s passing but the courts knew you were more than capable of doing so on your own. 

they just hated to see a women in power.

“you are dismissed, jungkook.” 

the young advisor nods his head gratefully, running a hand through his wavy locks and massaging his scalp to calm his guilt ridden mind. “what the fuck, jeon?” he mumbles to himself, starting walk back his quarters. he needed to be a lone, he needed time to convince himself that what he had done was right. jungkook could pretend that everything would be fine and maybe it would be. 

he paces down the twisting and winding halls of the castle, chest squeezing as he begins to feel trapped within the walls and lies. jungkook doesn’t even hear the call of his name. 

“jeongguk!” tamarae gasps, catching up to the young advisor. the boy freezes, the princess much resembled the queen before YN, her features her sloping and graceful and you could see shift in her eye colour of the light hit them just right. everyone had been in awe of tamarae since she was born, but she was no YN. he looks down at the girl, just a year younger than jungkook himself, and parts his lips to speak. they were aquatinted well, but never spoke more than a passing hello when YN was around. 

but he never gets a chance to speak. 

the princess’ hand falls sharply against his cheek, the connection is enough to send his head to the side. it is now, for the first time, that jungkook really looks at the young princess. her snow white hair is dishevelled and slightly out of place, dark eye bags beneath her usually glowing eyes and her skin has paled significantly. “how dare you?” tamarae seethes, stepping closer to jungkook and pointing a finger in his face. he flops guiltily, his actions coming to haunt him. “how dare you, give my sister’s location to that treacherous prince?”

“i’m doing what is in the best interest of our queen.” 

tamarae opens her mouth in shock, casting a glance up and down jungkook’s frame before taking a breath to calm herself. “what would you know about her best interests?” she begins, now poking a thumb into the firm of the advisor’s chest. “she is happy there, out in the woods in her clearing. he makes her happy.” a breath, “— but you’re so foolishly and selfishly in love with her, you would do anything to make her love you back. well, jeon jungkook...now she will never.” 

“tamarae, i—“

“and you slept with me, i let you wrestle me to bed in your quarters and make a woman of me,”  the princess starts to feel tears form in her eyes, breath becoming shaky and anger rising within her chest. “just so...so you could find where she is. i didn’t tell you, for you to hurt her. i told you because you’re her best friend...” 

jungkook is left, trembling with guilt as the princess turns away and heads back in the direction she came. 

he was desperately in love with you, but was too blind to see the love he was given too.

the feeling beneath taehyung’s skin is nothing like he has ever felt before. it’s a bristling pain that jabs at his flesh, pinches at his every fibre and burning away at his heart. 

it hurts, it pains him and he doesn’t know why. 

the servants strip him of his shirt, sweat licking his honey dipped abs as they douse him with cold spurts of water but nothing helps and the pain doesn’t cease. one places a stick between his teeth for him to clamp down on as they rub at his skin, trying to massage the pain away. instead the supposed, soothing feeling is replaced by a thousand small stabs to his flesh, almost to the point where tears pool in his ocean eyes. 

the double doors to his bedroom open suddenly, Queen elantris making an entrance as maids and servants alike withdraw from the heaving prince. his stares over at his mother as she dismisses all other personnel in the room, dropping his head back into his tangled sheets while he pants, eyes falling shut. 

“mother...”

“shh, my boy, you are in a lot of pain,” elantris hums quietly, brushing her son’s curled charcoal locks from his paling face.  the prince whines like a young dragon pup, the hurt becoming too much to bare. elantris looks down at her child, seizing the moment to rub a cooling herb mix against his chest, despite the growls and roars that emit from taehyung’s lips. she coos at him gently, once she’s done, whispering sweet words into his hair as he shivers in a cold sweat. the dragon queen had seen this once before, never as severe. her child was sick with a deep poison, known as love. 

“what’s happening to me?”

the tone of fear rings in taehyung’s voice as he roars, scales reappearing across his skin and eyes darkening into their golden state. his mother leans down and noses taehyung’s cheek, trying to ease him through the pain and coaches him through it despite the groans he lets out.

“you’ve imprinted, my love,” elantris whispers, linking their hands. “you’re in love, taehyung, with that human girl.” 

the boy gasps through his pain, feeling like a pup being caught stealing from the kitchen like when he was young. taehyung had known that he had always felt strongly towards you, felt strongly for the way your eyes sparkled under the moon and the way your smile shone brightly whenever the dragon had a new trick to show you. taehyung had known, all along, that he was in love with you. “how, how did you know?”

“i could smell her on you, taehyung,” elantris chuckles and releases her child’s hand, helping him to sit. “i may be old but i am not a fool. you have learned to forgive, unlike those of our ancestors. you must go to her, the girl and the closer you are to her, the less pain you will be in.” she hums. “you just go to her.” 

the prince stretches his limbs, a cool slick sliding over his skin. “i will, i love her.” 

the clearing.

when you thought of the clearing, you thought of happiness and love. your love, with taehyung that bloomed solely under the night of the stars but another that grew strongly inside of you. the news you had for taehyung sent a series of fire works bursting in your chest, coursing through your veins— this could be it, could be what could end all the suffering and consequences, letting yourself and your prince be together. 

the familiar sent of sweet moon lily fills your nostrils, easing your nerves as you approach the clearing, your love. the sky is clear above your head, milky pink like the roses your mother used to weave into your hair. you like to believe, that she would be excited for you, looking down at you from the constellations above with joy.  this was not always your plan, but you would not let this get in your way of becoming queen. 

you take care with your steps, unlike times before this, wearing your traditional warrior fit makes the journey easier.  you want to be careful and prevent any harm to what is to come — but suddenly, the air around you feels different, thick with smoke and heavy with  an eerie vibe. something is off, something is wrong. 

peeking through the leaves you spot several men, heavily armed with swords and arrows, in a uniform you do not recognise. upon closer inspection— you notice the emblem on the crest of a soldier from your kingdom . these are your people, men from your army. 

in your clearing. 

rushing forward, you burst from the trees and slap a hand over your mouth at the site. the dragon prince, fully shifted into his beautiful dragon transformation is hooked to the ground with thick metal chains that rub at his skin. taehyung roars, in pain, in fear, you cannot tell and panic begins to rise in your chest, clawing at your throat and tearing at your insides. 

they had found him.

the beast sniffs the air once, twice, the bones in his back cracking as he fights to stand—pulling the men that held him back, off of the ground. yellowed eyes tilt towards you, barely hidden in your precious spot as the prince tries to rip free and expose you. he could sense your presence, your emotions and desperately needed to be with you, he needed you to know about the imprint. 

but before taehyung can reach you, a guard calls and has you on your knees in a second, many others spearing your lover to get him under control. tears sting in your eyes as the first drops of his blood hit the pure grass beneath your knees, where you had made love for the first time, where you were supposed to be safe. 

“taehyung!” you scream, attempting to rip yourself away from the men, your men... that hold you down. it’s almost as if you can feel every pierce of taehyung’s flesh as he roars out for you. yanking your arm free, you attempt to stand, but your pathway is blocked by a pair of black boots and a talk slender figure.  your wobbling lip turns to a sneer, gaze darkening as you look to him. “you...”

namjoon smirks, kneeling down to your height as your own men hold you down. “hello, my queen,” he hums, eyeing your sweat streaked face and angry expression. the man lifts your chin with his forefinger, tilting your head to look up at you. taehyung’s chest rumbles possessively as the latter male’s hands slip to clip your jaw tightly. “you seem to be right on time, love. you’re about to witness the true harvesting of a dragon heart.” 

a flare of outrage ignites in your chest as you lunge forward, biting at namjoon’s finger so hard that you draw blood, while vexed tears cloud your vision. the pink haired prince pulls back, holding his hand tightly in pain. “unhand me.” you breathe heavily, staring up at the men beside you, holding you down and betraying you. “unhand me by order of your princess.” you muster up a stern expression, although your lip wobbles and your eyes water as the pain of your lover courses through your veins. you had not known it was possible to feel so connected, so in tune with someone before. but you understood now, that this was love. love was not your mother and father arguing during nights, where hoseok would cover yourself and your sister’s ears, love was not tolerating and suppressing your bitter hatred for your father. love was not war. love was taehyung. 

the men look to namjoon for guidance as you thrash within their grip, he simply shakes out his wounded hand and stalking towards you, before landing a harsh slap across your face. your head whips to the side, your chest heaving in shock while your lover growls in the distance.  

“i’m afraid they cannot do that your highness,” namjoon spits, pushing you down into the soil. you clutch at your stomach protectively, glowering at the prince. “you father has handed all authority over to me, after your absence for the last two nights. the court has ruled you, unfit to rule until we marry.” 

the prince then turns to the dragon, signalling for his minions to tighten the chains around taehyung. “and he shall be executed in consequence of your action. for imprinting on our queen, like the filthy creature he is.” 

it feels like your world is collapsing, and you are falling underneath the surface. but you cannot give in, you cannot give namjoon the satisfaction of your favour without a fight. you cannot lose taehyung. you close your eyes and swallow thickly, remembering what your mother had instilled in you. every battle has a way to be won. 

“unhand me,” you repeat, steadying your breath. “and i will go with you willingly.” namjoon only chuckles deeply, shaking his head so you take action. ripping yourself from the men behind you, you kick your leg out and take the men down by swipe their feet out from underneath them. elbowing a soldier in the nose and snatching your sword from its sheath, burying it in the chests of two traitors. rolling your shoulders back, you kick down two more men and stay light on your toes. 

you aim for the prince next. 

taking a running sprint, you thrust your sword towards him, barely slicing his cheek as you pant heavily. “release the dragon, and i will spare you,” you seethe through gritted teeth, watching your wounded lover from over namjoon’s shoulder. “don’t be a foolish man, my prince.” you mock, venomously.

“i see that carrying a child has softened your mindset, princess YN,” namjoon comments softly, pushing the blade away from his throat. how could he know? who could have told him? your confident demeanour falters slightly, but you do not allow yourself to slip, holding up your blade again. “the castle maids talk, you show early signs. disgraceful, how you are willing to bare the child of the beast that killed your mother—“ the prince remains cool and collected whilst your resolve starts to crumble, he wins. taehyung wails for you in the background, weakening as you begin to shake. “you will marry me, tomorrow at sunset if you wish for child to be speared. i feel no remorse for ending two lives tonight.” 

the world around you begins to spin lightly, taehyung calling for you to stay strong. namjoon had won, he had you exactly where he wanted you, and there was nothing more you could do. “very well,” you whisper, dropping your gaze along with your mothers sword. “we shall be wed.”

you had never been to a wedding, if you had, you may have been too young to remember. sometimes, if you were lucky enough to hear, your mother would tell you of her own, her white dress and wolf furs, her pearl crown imported from across the sea. when she explained to you, brushing your hair and tying it neatly before bed, she had never smiled, never grinned at the thought of a royal feast. her face had always been void. 

you now, realise why. 

today you would marry, to a man you bared no feelings for. today you would marry out of duty and out of the love you had for someone else. you realise, being older and less naive, that your mother, the queen— married your father as a debt to her kingdom. 

“you look beautiful, YN...” your sister offered, taking over for the maid in weaving flowers into your hair. orchids. the national flower of namjoon’s kingdom. the smell was too sweet, sickly to the point where you felt you would heave. they were everywhere, in your hair and your bouquet, in gifts given by royals from other kingdoms— you hated it. a constant reminder of what you had to lose. tamarae notes your silence, stopping her hands that move to fix hair that has already been tucked into place. “please, say something...”

you blink twice in response, parting your lips as if the words will come on their own — but you’re hollow inside, a ghost of who you once were. there were no more tears to cry, or screams to let out. all of those had passed in the cold night, when your sister held you as you cried because your child would grow without the father they needed. because you were going to lose your love. tamarae sinks to her knees before you, creasing the sweet powder blue dress that she wore. her hand take yours, squeezing it gently as if to remind you that you’re still a person, you still feel. 

“you don’t have to do this,” she whispers hoarsely, white hair falling over her face to shield her from the world. her bottom lip trembles as tears slip down her cheeks— she had lost her mother, her brother and now her sister. what more could she lose? “you don’t have to...”

for the first time in hours, you make a movement...your face twitches into a sad smile as you cup your sister’s cheeks and hold her close. tamarae’s face finds the tule of your wedding dress, trying her best not to stain the expensive fabric imported from namjoon’s kingdom, not that you cared much for it. “i have to, for you and for the people. our people. they have lost faith in me, and they need me—“ you swallow sharply, no more tears. “they need me to show them i care for our people, i care for this war...”

“i don’t want to lose you...”

“you won’t.”

the door bursts open, yourself and your sister jumping apart at the sudden entrance. jungkook inhales deeply, eyes flickering between the two princesses before tamarae scoffs and parts ways with you but not before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

she shoves past the boy, maids flurrying after her, leaving yourself and the advisor alone. he is the first to speak. “YN, my queen, you’re stunning-“ 

“no,” you interject, looking up at your old friend, coldly. “don’t speak. you don’t get to speak today or i’ll have you executed for treason.” you punctuate your every word, begging yourself to keep it together because if you cry now, jungkook will be the only one to comfort you. your best friend, the man who betrayed you, silences himself, before it’s too late. “you don’t get to say a word, not after what you did to me. not after betraying my trust.” 

“YN, i-“ 

“please,” you hiccup this time, the air in your lungs being sucked away from you with every passing second. jungkook is here to walk you down the isle, towards the man that will only abuse his power of you and your people. jungkook is the reason you are walking this path. “please don’t say anymore. have you not said enough? given away my secrets, out of love you say?” jungkook falters, every fibre in his being screaming out at him to comfort you, but his love for you did this, he destroyed the strong girl he once knew. “then your love is truly misplaced- i have loved you, jeongguk...but only ever as a friend. you used that against my sister, which i truly cannot forgive. so please do not say anymore than you must, for your words only ever hurt us.” 

jungkook bites his lip and nods, offering his arm to you to lead you down to the ceremony. he watches you with sad eyes, but a kind smile, sighing heavily when you return his with a watery one. 

if he had not loved you, this would not have happened. if he had not loved you, he would still have his friend.

the sun is coloured a shade of honey, ribbons of its light casting a warm hue against your skin. sunsets like this are rare, beautiful and not to be taken for granted— they remind you of sweet days with taehyung, his curled hair buried in your neck and his soft giggle filling the air. sunsets reminded you of your love for taehyung.

you watch the sun dip it’s toes into the navy blue of the water, just behind the prince’s head at the end of the isle. namjoon had wanted a wedding by the sea, with enough room for all of your people along with visitors from kingdoms far away. he wanted sea air and a fresh breeze, he wanted open waters, clear enough to see the dye of taehyung’s blood when he executed the dragon prince after the ceremony. he wanted it all, and you wanted to escape. your stomach twists and turns, as the orchestra begin to strum a wedding tune. this isle was not a path to happiness, but one to your death. 

to the people of your kingdom, saw you as a beautiful bride but you saw yourself as a ghost of a human being. jungkook holds you by the arm, steadying your steps as he walks you towards your doom, your own funeral. your own father couldn’t even give you away, too drunk to even stand. you scowl at him as you pass his pew, accompanied by your sweet sister. 

if you had it your way, it would be taehyung at the end of the isle, dressed in his kingdom’s traditional fits as he gave you that toothy grin. his eyes would light up as your brother gave you away, and your mother’s light shined on you from above. taehyung would take your hand firmly in his, slip on the ring and tell you how much he loved you. the dress that you wore would be off at the end of the night, as you made love to one another. but now, here you were, reaching the dreaded prince namjoon, as he smirked at you greasily. 

jungkook gave you a tight, apologetic squeeze before handing you over to namjoon, shielding his face once he joined the rest of the crowd. your gaze slowly shifts to namjoon, hating the way he looked at you, when the ground beneath your feet starts to shake and you hear the pained cry of your love. “taehyung...” you whisper, standing on your tip toes to find him. over the shoulder of the prince, you spot the dragon shivering from pain behind the alter. 

he spasms in his chains, wrists red and sore whilst purple bruises litter his tanned honey skin. he whimpers our for you, causing tears to well in your eyes. all you can do is watch helplessly as the dragon steadies his laboured breathing. small tears slip down your cheeks, streaming through the layers of make up that you wore— the pink haired prince lowers his lips to your ear level. “take a good look, my princess, for this will be the last chance you will ever get.” the prince chuckles, pouting at you mockingly. 

with watery eyes, you glance back at the dragon prince, watching as he falls weak at namjoon’s proximity to his imprint. the injuries taehyung sustained over the time had weakened his dragon transformation, the scales that patched his skin were becoming dull as he bled from wounds here and there. the only way for him to heal would be to be near you again. 

sucking in a deep breath, you blink away the oncoming tears and replace them with a bright smile. smile for the people, smile for your family. “of course, my king,” you say with wobbling words. be strong, you chant. 

the ceremony begins with namjoon’s consent, rushing by with your mind focused on your lover. he’s hurting, in pain and all you want to do his hold him, ease him through it all. you cannot focus, sick to the stomach of what is to come, will you live out the same fate as your mother?  bare beautiful children from the seed of a hateful man. will he ruin your kingdom? what your mother had worked hard to build? this couldn’t be your legacy. 

“and do you, princess YN LN of the  Phantis empire, take prince namjoon of the Kevimore kingdom— to be your lawfully wedded husband, in sickness and in health...as long as you both shall live?” the minister’s words fly over your head, your mouth suddenly feeling dry and the air in your lungs no longer present. 

namjoon leans down to whisper into your ear, warningly. “YN...” 

“i-“ you hesitate, saying yes would mean taehyung would be executed sooner and you couldn’t bare to lose the only love you’ve ever had. namjoon’s arms snake around your waist, pulling you into him, causing taehyung to fall to his knees behind your shoulder, ocean eyes full of tears. he can’t lose his soulmate, not now, not ever. “i’m...”

the words formulate on your lips, the pressure weighing down on your shoulders. 

“stop the wedding!” 

you clutch at your chest, relief flooding through you as the crowd turns their attention to the oncoming voice. an armoured soldier and his men, enter the ceremony eliciting gasps and stares of the congregation, you take the opportunity to slip from namjoon’s slimy grip, while they create a distraction. 

“who do you think you are?” namjoon scowls, stepping forward and pointing an accusing finger at the intruder. “interrupting an officiated ceremony, what authority do you have over a drunken king and his weak daughter?” 

the soldier dismounts from his horse, stepping forward to the middle of the isle and removes his helmet— revealing the similar sloped and heart shaped features of your elder brother. “hoseok,” tamarae calls, stealing the words from your very lips. you watch as your younger sister rushes into his arms, the reunion warming your numbed heart. 

the red heard clutches your sibling close, pressing a kiss to her hair in a protective fashion before glaring daggers into namjoon. if looks could kill the prince would be five miles under. the soldier’s namjoon has under his rein, bend the knee to their rightful prince, giving you time to make a dash for taehyung before he collapses to his side. 

“prince hoseok... what—what are you doing here?”

the man in question raises a brow, ordering his men to take namjoon into custody. “the war is over, with word of my sister’s union with dragon prince-“ hoseok nods his head over to you, smirking as the latter male is brought to his knees in front of the entire court. “— spread across the battle field, man and mythical creature alike have found a way to bring peace,” the eldest sibling makes his way toward the pink haired prince and drawing his sword up to the other’s chin. “and next time...you will think twice before treating my sister, thinking you have power over us all. she is stronger and a much better leader than you will ever be. so stand, take your men and leave before i have your head.” 

namjoon nods vigorously, clearing himself and the ceremony up as you sniff thankfully, turning your attention to the dragon prince. as soon as you hold him in your arms, taehyung collapses, barely breathing as you come into his field of view. his perfect lips are dry and slightly cut, a gash along his brow that will surely scar and purple, burgundy bruises just under his ribs where his wings would be. he looks bad, but your dragon has never looked better. “t-tae...my love, it’s okay..hold on for me, please?” you whisper, brushing his hair back as his eyes flutter open and closed. “please don’t go, don’t leave me now...”

the dragon prince open and closes his mouth, head rolling as you move it into your lap. biting back tears, you brush your curls through his now silver locks, faded from the pain most likely. “don’t leave us, taehyung. don’t you dare.” you add, hoseok ordering servants and men to help give you the medical help that you. you can’t bare to part from your love now, chest heaving with your cries as the dragon slips in and out of consciousness. 

“you’re with a child...” he manages to mumble, gripping your hand tightly as his lips form a slight smile. “i could never leave my soulmate, my imprint behind.” 

your heart lifts, taehyung had told you tales of imprints only once— when his mother and father met, they couldn’t stand to be away from one another... in far too much pain. the story helped you believe in love. an imprint is when a dragon finds their mate, their one true love...and taehyung had found that in you. 

“i love you, taehyung.” 

“and i, love you.” 

you let go of his hand, allowing hoseok’s men to whisk your dragon prince away before going to reunite with your siblings. pulling off your veil, you open your arms to join hoseok and tamarae’s hug, nuzzling into them. “we’ll be okay, right?” your little sister asks, nearing tears.  this would be the first time, the three of you have held each other since hoseok left for war.

“we will be,” your brother promises, kissing your hair sweetly. “we always will be.” 

a year later, you find yourself dressed in another gown. the same fabric as your mother’s from her own coronation, emerald green silk made by those in the village embroiled with crystals from the caves of taehyung’s very own kingdom. your smile shines brightly as your younger sister fixes your hair around the crown you wear, diamond encrusted, silver plated, like the one your mother was. “sister, if you don’t stop moving, you’re going to miss your presentation to the public,” tamarae scolds you, stepping back when she’s finished with her work. “as queen.” 

“queen— that does sound delightful, don’t you think?” you tease, touching at your makeup gently before snaking your lips. tamarae rolls her eyes and pushes your shoulder gently, mumbling something about seeing you out there. over the course of the year, your father had stepped down from his position in the court allowing you to take the lead on your path to queen while you and taehyung reunified the human and magic worlds. after he recovered, you married taehyung in the dead of the night, under the stars in his kingdom, with blessing from his mother and today, you had finally been coronated as queen. 

“incoming!” a voice called, bringing a babbling baby into the room. your smile widened as jimin, the Phoenix and taehyung’s most trusted advisor stepped in, bringing over your daughter of three months. “taehyung is being dressed at the moment, hoseok is doing a cover of the grounds and jungkook,” jimin lists— adjusting cahira, your baby, in your arms. her name meaning, warrior. “he’s setting up things out front on the balcony.” 

“thank you, jimin,” you nod, bouncing your sweet girl before dismissing your husband’s advisor. 

after namjoon was punished for an attempt at overthrow, you managed to salvage your friendship with jungkook, only to the distain of your husband (it took several growling matches and attempts to calm him down before he let your advisor anywhere near you). but nonetheless, you couldn’t help but turn to mush as you watched over your baby, cahira’s eyes were large and bright like yours, taking on the blue colour of taehyung’s. her black hair was curled, with a patch of white from your mother’s side. her nose was most definitely yours, however. taehyung said that from her early months, it was impossible to tell whether she would show traits of a dragon or not, you would have to wait until her first tooth to see. 

but you knew, just by looking at your young princess— she was made to be a queen, just like you and her grandmother before you. 

“i love the way you look at her, like she is all that there is to the world,” your king grins from the doorway, moving over and bending down slightly to play with his daughter’s tiny hands. it truly is a sight to see, a large and mighty beast, cooing at his tiny baby girl. “hi there, cahira...it’s your daddy!” you sweep over your husband, taking in his floppy hair and his tight fitting black blazer that’s spiralled with silver patterns to match your dress. the ash haired dragon preens happily, primal instincts kicking in while he occupies himself with his daughter on your hip, before looking up at you through the curtain of his hair.  “and i must say, i do enjoy the way you look at me as well.” 

shaking your head, you lean down to meet taehyung’s sweet lips, wiping the small smirk off of his face,” a look of adoration, for the people i love most in this world.” you say, standing straight as your lover takes you into his arms, mindful of the giggling baby between you. “i am happy like this, with you.” 

“i am happy with you, completely and utterly in love with you, and my daughter,” taehyung whispers into your hair, kissing it. “we ended the war, and finally received the happy ending that we deserved.”  you stand in the middle of the throne room, just off of the balcony, listening to the chants and calls of your people— both yours and taehyung’s, in the distance. the war had been ended, your love had united the people and your people finally brought together. 

your maids enter the room, opening the doors to the balcony as jungkook comes through to salute you. taehyung separates from you, lacing your fingers together— allowing you to catch glimpse of the wedding rings you both wore. together, for an eternity. 

“ready to face the world, my love?” taehyung asks, taking cahira from your arms and settling her on his hip. “my queen?” 

you stand on your tiptoes, adjusting the matching crown on his head. you thought that you would never rule with a man by your side, and you didn’t need one. but taehyung would never take away from you as a woman, you were his queen and you always would be. you smile brightly, squeezing his palm and nod. “with you, i always will be.” you answer, taking his hand and stepping out towards your future. 

you had once wanted to hold a dragon’s heart, little did you know, he would be holding yours instead. 

⇢ author’s note(s): hi everyone! thank you so much for reading! I really enjoyed writing this fic, i think im most proud of this project and so, in the future im thinking of doing some kind of spin off seires/drabble collection, let me know what you guys think? feedback is always appreciated :D

[rose2jam]

Day 8 - Baking

Ship: Severus Snape x Reader/OC

Story Summary: An Autumnal collection of Snape/Reader one-shots and ficlettes based on my main story, Dream Sequence.

Length: 2,276

Rating: T

Warnings: F e e l s. Also, I guess slight spoilers for a scene that hasn’t actually happened in Dream Sequence yet.

Notes: Sev’s POV again! Also major callbacks to Act1, Scene 4 of Dream Sequence

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Master List

<== Last Scene

Next Scene ==>

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It was like déjà vu, standing in the entrance to the kitchens like this.  Six years ago you had been in the same spot, watching silently as a fourth year Hufflepuff bopped around the kitchens singing Queen, merrily making trays full of biscuits for her friends, completely heedless of the multitude of rules she’d been breaking.  And you had been… surprisingly lenient with her.  Surprising to yourself, mostly.  Had it been any other student, you would have sent them packing back to their dorms, promising that a week’s worth of detention would be waiting for them when they returned from Winter Holiday.  But… you’d always had a soft spot for this particular student.  This poor, half-blooded, wickedly smart student, who, despite your best efforts, had successfully managed to chip away at your defenses and wheedle her way into your life.

The scene was almost exactly the same today, except the fourth year Hufflepuff was now a stunningly beautiful woman.  She was still bopping away around the kitchens, her wizarding wireless broadcasting The Doors this time, as she loaded up baking sheet after baking sheet with carefully crafted little cakes. 

It was moments like these, when you would watch her from a distance, without her knowing you were doing so, that made you wonder just… how the hell had you ended up with her?  How had your life taken such a turn that you found yourself in a relationship with a former student?  And not just a passing fling, but an actual, honest to god, dare you even say healthy relationship?  Why had you given up on your crusade of solitude to allow her in?  Why did she put up with all of your gloomy, sullen bullshit?  She was a bright, radiant sunspot and you were… well… you.  You very often felt like she deserved better.  Someone younger, less jaded.  Someone who could match her energy and vibrancy.  Which was why you liked watching her like this, because it was affirmation that it wasn’t all an act.  She wasn’t just pretending to be happy, to be content, despite being with you.  She was actually like this.  All the time.  

You felt a bit like a cradle robber, remembering how young she had been when she’d first entered your life.  She’d always been remarkably mature for her age; probably one of the few students you’d ever had that you didn’t mind carrying on a conversation with.  She was smart as a whip, sharp as a tack, but she was also naïve and vulnerable, and, for some reason, had looked to you for guidance.  And all of that had left an impression on you.  And continued to do so.  After finally bending to her sincerity about her feelings for you, you found that she could keep up with your intellect, was tolerant of your snark, and was more than capable of turning it around and feeding it right back to you in droves. But she never stopped being that bubbly Hufflepuff you’d always known her to be, either.  Despite the shit hand she’d been dealt over the last several years, she never turned bitter.  Which was more than you could say for yourself.  It was admirable.

The first batch of crescent cakes was out of the oven, and that was your cue to make your presence known; sweet, buttery incentive.  You moved silently across the room as you approached, and she was just as easy to sneak up on now as she had been then.  She was thoroughly absorbed in her radio, humming along to ‘People Are Strange’ as she carefully molded each individual moon shaped biscuit, lining them up like soldiers on a fresh tray.  You watched carefully over her shoulder, her obliviousness rather alarming, actually.  She really ought to be more vigilant of her surround-

She tilted her head back, back, backwards, until the top of her head tapped against your chest, and she grinned widely as she gazed upside down at you.  You arched a brow at her astronomical cheekiness, and she burst into giggles, stumbling a little as she lost her balance, given the strange angle. You caught her in your arms, allowing her to straighten up and regain her equilibrium.  

“Either you’ve become more observant, or I’m losing my touch,” you mused, and instead of moving away to give her room to breathe, you stepped closer, pressing your chest to her back and wrapping your arms around her slender waist.

She giggled again, getting right back into the task at hand, continuing to pull off globs of dough and rolling them between her palms before curving them into crescents.  “I’ve always been observant!” she protested, though her voice was just as cheeky as her grin.  “Just not when Queen is playing.  You got lucky last time.”  You rolled your eyes, filing that little tidbit of information away for further analysis at a later date.  

“Do you think Jim Morrison was a wizard too?” you asked casually, pressing your mouth against her shoulder as you continued watching her hands.  Green nail polish today, you observed.  It was quickly becoming her signature fall color.  You heard her hum sadly at your question, and you tilted your head to get a profile view of her face.

“Gone too soon,” she sighed morosely as she shook her head.  “But no, I don’t think so.  Though I wouldn’t put it past Robby Kreiger.  You’ve heard the full version of ‘Light My Fire’.  He didn’t learn how to play the guitar like that on acid alone.”  You snorted, and she giggled again, leaning her head gently against yours.  It… was a very affectionate gesture, like a cat rubbing against its human’s legs, and it just felt natural to tilt your head in return, pressing your lips to the soft skin of her neck.  Everything about being with her felt natural, and you were still having a difficult time processing it.

“Why are you baking four dozen crescent cakes in the middle of the night on a Tuesday?” you asked, the words tasting awfully familiar in your mouth.  And they must have sounded familiar to her ears, because she full out laughed this time, placing the last cake onto the last tray, grabbing up a tea towel to wipe the excess dough from her hands.

“Right to the point this time,” she mused, and you rolled your eyes, hiding your grin in her cardigan. “Well, I’m baking in the middle of the night because the House Elves would never let me in here otherwise,” she explained with a grin.  But then she hesitated, smile slipping away as she stared down at the trays of cookies, before reaching up for the recipe card that had been charmed to float in the air. It wasn’t the same butter smeared card as last time.  This seemed to be a fresh copy, but still written in the same neat script as the last one.  She plucked it from the air, holding it with both hands as she gazed fondly over the recipe. “It’s been a while since I made these myself,” she admitted.  “I just wanted to get some practice in, so I had mum owl me the recipe.”

You were unsure as to why her mood had shifted so drastically, and you feared you were missing something vital.   “Practice for what?” you inquired, and you felt her body tense slightly against your own. You heard alarm bells ringing in your head, and you straightened up, loosening your hold on her waist.  She promptly turned around to face you, still enclosed by your arms.  She looked anxious, and that made you anxious, and you swallowed back the trepidation in your throat.

“You said your mother used to make these, right?” she asked timidly, unable to fully look you in the eye, as she glanced back and forth from your face to the card she still held in her hands.  You were taken aback by her question, and while it eased some of the tension her serious mood had brought about, it also raised a fresh multitude of new questions. You also couldn’t believe that she remembered that.

“She did, yes,” you answered carefully, your brows furrowing together in your confusion.  “Why do you ask?”  She fidgeted again, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth, and her clear apprehension only made your heart thud impatiently.  You wished she would just get on with it and spare you this agony.

“Don’t get mad, okay?” she requested, and this time both of your eyebrows shot up your forehead.  She laughed nervously at your surprise, and seemed to realize that she wasn’t making any damn sense.  She shook her head, as if hoping whatever was rattling around inside would settle down into some sort of cohesive order.  You rather hoped it did too.  She took a deep, steadying breath, before her hazel eyes finally met yours.  “I’m sorry if it’s presumptuous.  But I was wondering if you might like to put together a Samhain alter for her this year.”

Your mouth fell open slightly, and you found yourself perfectly speechless.  She seemed to take this as a negative reaction, for she immediately launched into an explanation, the words tumbling out of her mouth like a waterfall.  “I know the stuff my mum does isn’t real magic, but we’ve been celebrating Samhain since I was a little kid.  We’d honor some of moms old friends that she’d lost over the years, with an altar and offerings and everything.  I looked up the real rituals that actual witches and wizards do and I just thought-”

You cut her off by grabbing her arms and placing your mouth over hers.  She squeaked, but instantly reciprocated, melting into your touch and kissing you back tenderly as she pressed her hands against your chest, recipe card fluttering to the ground.  It gave you some time to process her suggestion, to wrap your head around the fact that she wanted to do this.  For you. To honor a woman she’d never even met before.  Someone she’d only ever known through the things that you’ve told her.  Through simply being the man your mother had done her best to raise.  And the affection you felt for her swelled near to bursting as you pulled back, staring down into her sweet face, at those worried, hopeful eyes, and her flushed, parted lips.  

“I love you,” you murmured, and her face split into a wide smile, like it did every time you told her that, because you reserved the phrase for only the warmest of moments. Moments like these, when you were reminded of how devoted she was to this.  To you.  Your hands fell from her arms, settling down on her hips instead, and she lifted her hands to loop her arms around your neck.  

“So you want to do it?” she asked shyly for clarification.  And you could see the glimmer of possibility in her eyes.  All the plans that she’d been making in the hopes you would say yes.  Going so far as to practice making cookies, you could only assume were for the offering she’d suggested.  You didn’t even need to use Legilimency to know that her intentions were so pure, so innocent.  And all for you.

“I’d like that,” you admitted, your voice dropping to a raspy octave.  And your heart ached in your chest as she gasped happily, tightening her hold around your shoulders, pulling you down into a proper embrace. You held her tightly as you buried your face in her flaxen hair, and swallowed back your brimming emotions as you considered your next words very carefully.  “There’s just one thing…”

She leaned back cautiously, gazing up at you with a glint of curiosity.  “Anything,” she encouraged softly, lifting one hand to your face and smoothing her thumb over your cheek.  You must not have been doing such a good job at quelling your feelings at this moment.  And perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing.  Or at least not unusual.  You were feeling quite overwhelmed by thoughts and memories you hadn’t dared to explore in nearly 14 years.  

“There’s one other person I’d like to include on the altar,” you suggested quietly, and you couldn’t look at her as you did.  You couldn’t.  Because you still hadn’t resolved the feeling that you had betrayed her, by allowing yourself the chance to try and be happy, by being with Gwen.  You told yourself over and over again that once upon a time, she would have been happy for you.  Would have wanted you to move on from her.  But even as you stood in the arms of another woman, you still loved Lily Evans so much.  And the weight of it was often more than you could bare.

But Gwen was still stroking your cheek, and as you lifted your eyes reluctantly to meet hers, you found her smiling compassionately.  “Of course,” she whispered earnestly, the sincerity in her voice soothing the ache in your chest.  Because she knew.  Knew exactly who you spoke of.  New precisely what you were feeling.   Explaining it to her had been excruciating at the time… But she’d been so accepting. So understanding and willing to do whatever it was that you needed in order to find reconciliation.  You still hadn’t, not really.  But you were trying.  You were a very difficult man, you knew.  But Gwendolyn was an extremely patient woman.

And she loved you.

Only three women had ever really loved you.  You hadn’t done the best job maintaining that love with two of them.  But god, were you determined to do it right this time.

---

Art by BlooeyedTroll!

Miniatures by thepomegranatejuice!

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Next Scene ==>

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[oftenderweapons]

Dry and Tumble - Namjoon

Pairing: Namjoon x Vixen

Wordcount: 1k

Genre: fluff, romance, established relationship, idol!AU

Rating: 18+ (these two are very explicit in their flirting)

Hello everyone! I've been through a rough bit of time and decided to return to my comfort couple for a little. This scenario was inspired by @ironicarmy's Dirty Laundry (you can find the teaser over here). Thank you Lau for introducing such a great concept in my life. I will forever owe you my most delightful drabble. Writing this really brought me extreme joy while I was in a really dark place and I like to believe it was some sort of a gift you sent me haha ✨🥰

Big thanks go to @thejooncrew for beta reading. Bucca, your love for these two has very few rivals 🥰💕

Plot: not much. Just watch Namjoon have an mental breakdown as he finds Vixen bent over the dryer while she's trying to get the laudry out.

Warnings: these two flirt *heavy* (Vixen is wearing just an oversized shirt and Namjoon loves groping her), DDLG dynamics, tolxsmol galore, allusions to voyeurism and recording a uhmmm... mature video (?), biting. Very domestic flirting

Here is my masterlist! Enjoy 💜✨

◖◗ ◯ ◖◗ ◯ ◖◗ ◯ ◖◗ ◯ ◖◗ ◯ ◖◗ ◯ ◖◗

Namjoon stood from his chair, finding it extremely strange that by now you hadn’t yet sneaked into his home studio, curling up on his sofa and mewling obnoxiously until he paid attention to you.

He secretly loved when you acted dramatic and needy, especially because all he needed to do was pat his thighs to have you quiet and cozying up in his arms.

Furtively, he opened the door, suspicious and almost scared of what he would find. It was almost midnight and by now you should already be pestering him for sleepy time and booty rubs.

He started organising the potential scenarios in his head, grading them for increasing level of danger.

Asleep in the bathtub.

Baking biscuits.

His stomach rumbled, his mouth watering. Biscuits and hot chocolate before bed.

He scratched the idea. Too much sugar and you’d be up all night, dashing around the house like a fennec.

Maybe you’d hit the gym?

His eyes rolled close at the thought, a knowing smirk appearing on his face.

Maybe curled up on the sofa, half asleep as you pretended to watch tv. Maybe reading?

The lights in your small studio were off. He walked down the corridor, ready to reach the living room when he spotted a familiar scene in the laundry room.

With an oversized shirt on, you were cutely bent over the dryer, long, naked legs stretched as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to get the last few bits of laundry from the bottom of the machine.

Namjoon grinned and leaned against the door jamb, crossing his arms — already trying to feature the look that always made you go wobbly legged, blushing and babbling. He smiled even brighter when he noticed your tiptoes leaving the floor, your calves tossing a little as you tried to finally reach the piece before trying to regain your balance.

He watched you struggle a little, his feet padding softly across the floor before he licked his lips and purred, “Need any help, little fox?”

You tried to regain your composure as his hands appeared around your waist, your head hitting the lid of the dryer with a hard thud, causing you to whine in pain.

Namjoon chuckled, completely endeared, empathy overwhelming him. “Poor baby,” he cooed, helping you up and wrapping his forearm around your waist while his other hand rubbed your head. “Are you okay, Vixen?”

You were more than okay. You felt only slightly sorry for your clumsiness. What you felt the most was his hard chest against your back and his crotch against your ass. You clamped your lips shut, nodding wordlessly as Namjoon held you closer.

“You should be asleep, babylove,” he kissed the crown of your head, where you knew the bump would be appearing soon. “Why don’t you let me do these things, mh?”

“Because you always forget about them,” you replied, trying to twist in his arms before noticing he was now pinning you harder.

“Leave me a post-it on the door. I promise I’ll take care of it,” Namjoon kissed the sweet spot under your ear. “I don’t want to see my little one upside down into the dryer.”

“Such a sorry view...” you said through a pout.

“Too sorry to make me get ideas,” he teased, pressing his hips against you in a way that let you know he had spoken anything but the truth. “Poor little, helpless fox, upside down, tiny, struggling, stuck in the dryer.”

“Maybe you should put a camera to make sure it doesn’t happen again,” you suggested with fake innocence.

He hummed in appreciation, gripping you harder as an excuse to feel you up. “Sure. A camera. Maybe next time I’ll feel the obliterating need to watch your cute ass appear from there. Accidentally naked...”

“Your back would look so good caught on camera while you’re fucking me,” you purred, letting your thoughts wander.

“Should we get a mirror installed on the bedroom ceiling?” he asked, letting a hand snake under your shirt, palming your thigh heavily until he reached your waist. “I see you’re already half ready.” The arm around your waist grabbed your shirt and tugged it up, until his free hand could comfortably cup your naked mound.

“In my defence, I was digging for my favourite panties,” you said, pouting at him over your shoulder before batting your lashes, swatting at his wrist before dashing for the door. “Shirt off, sir.”

He arched an eyebrow and licked his lip before shaking his head. “Come here.”

“Shirt. Off,” you said before showing him your teeth.

He cackled at the empty threat you were. Feisty but adorably little. He crossed his arms in front of his waist, grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and tugging it up, taking off the garment and throwing it at you.

“Here, Vixen.”

At the sight of his chest, you trotted over happily. “Catch!” You called before stopping in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving a small skip as you threw your legs around his waist.

“Good girl,” he murmured fondly as he secured your grip, fixing the room quickly as you nibbled his warm skin. “I’m not a snack, Vixen.”

“You’re a whole damn meal. A large one,” you cooed back, still leaving small, harmless bites.

“All yours, babe.”

He carried you straight to the bedroom, making sure you brushed your teeth before getting anywhere close to the bed. He knew the moment you’d get under the covers would be the moment you crashed. Once clean and calm, he allowed you to tuck yourself under the comforter, laying at your side for a minute. “I need to go switch off my equipment, babylove.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Once he came back, he turned off the lights, taking off his glasses and finding his spot at your side, your limbs adjusting naturally.

“Love you, baby fox.”

“Love you, big bear.”

He smiled and cuddled in closer.

[andromedasstarship]

in the stars - chapter 2

photo credits - @ssahotchnerr

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

warnings - canon-typical criminal minds violence, show rating 16+ for reference. depictions of violence, stalking, murder, angst, age gap couple, language 

summary - You and Aaron reunite, but it’s not exactly anything to celebrate over. The case moves forward, but you really wish it hadn’t like this.  

a/n - no one is allowed to call me out on my lack of LA/california geographical knowledge. ive also started including readers mental thought train which is italicized (flashbacks will also be in italics, but ill always properly mark a flashback). if you arent tagged but asked, just send another ask/reply! i mustve missed it on accident.

blog rules 

masterlist // read it on ao3 here

chapter 1 // chapter 3

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Chapter 2 

Aaron Hotchner was standing in front of you. Impeccable, not even a slight crease in his shoes and suit pressed to perfection. He still smelled faintly like cedar, a thought you quickly tried to send away; it was too late though, already remembering how pitiful it was post breakup, when you would smell the shirts he left at your house, a desperate attempt to remember that he existed in your life. You’d spent hours, days even, thinking about how you’d react if you were ever to see Aaron in person again. At the top of the list was screaming at him, really giving him a piece of your mind for leaving the way he did. Or, maybe you’d be cool and composed, the epitome of maturity and ‘I’m Totally Over You’. You’d even considered completely ignoring him, not even giving him a second glance. Instead you were frozen to the spot, staring up at the man who broke your heart. 

Pulling your eyes away from him, they darted towards the gap between his body and outside, internally debating if you’d be able to somehow sneak around him. As if he could read your mind, not like you had been particularly subtle, he moved to close the gap before you had the chance to fully formulate an escape. 

“Y/N,” he tried again, voice a bit firmer this time around. It’d be better if he couldn’t speak. But then again he had such a beautiful voice-. No, you mentally clamped down on that thought before it could lead you down another rabbit hole. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Tell you, uh, what?” You asked, hyper aware of how mousy you must’ve sounded.

“That someone was murdering women that looked like you. You should’ve called my team sooner, it was irresponsible to put yourself at further risk of-” 

“Are you trying to imply that this is somehow my fault, Agent Hotchner?” The words felt bitter on your tongue. It wasn’t like you, to suddenly be so quick to anger. Years in the spotlight had taught you to hold your tongue, but Aaron’s words managed to cut right through. 

“That’s not what I’m saying, you know that-,” he tried to interject, but you weren’t going to back down so easy. 

“I know what Agent? Please, tell me the acceptable response to this situation,” you spat out at him, finding a brief enjoyment in the way his face scrunched up ever so slightly. “The police were working on the case, I’ve dealt with weirdos before.” Aaron opened his mouth again as if to speak, but you weren’t finished, “You really think I believed you’d answer if I called?” 

His face fell at that and you felt some form of internal victory swell in your chest. Y/N 1 point, Aaron Hotchner 0. The victory was short lived though, as you came to the realization that the two of you were still in a very public setting. 

“I’m not going to fight with you Agent, I suggest you get back to your team.” With that you shoved your way past him, stomping the entire way to your car. It was a shame, the way the anger and sadness was consuming you, maybe if it hadn’t, this time you would’ve noticed the clicking coming from the tree line. 

----

Hotch wished you had been angry; it would’ve been easier to handle you if you had been screaming in his face or throwing low-blow comments his way. He could deal with anger. It’d be easier if he could pretend that you were being completely out of line and could warrant being ignored for the rest of the case. 

That wasn’t you though, and he knew this. He didn’t have to be a profiler to see and hear the way you struggled to hold yourself together. He didn’t need to be a profiler to feel how disappointed you were with him. Hotch didn’t know how to deal with this or you.  Even though it had been months, had he truly fallen so far from your graces; was your opinion so lowly of him now? 

Hotch wasn’t sure which was worse to stomach, the fact that you had such little faith in him or the deep rooted feeling in his gut that told him you were right- had you called him unannounced two months ago, he wouldn’t have picked up the phone. 

----

You sat in your car for twenty minutes, at least. It was pitiful, the way you were crying in your car, to a sad playlist, over a guy who hurt your feelings; it felt like high school all over again. In the moment, you had felt good, the way you watched Aaron’s face twist and fall at your words giving you some sick form of satisfaction. 

It’s not like you had lied to him or anything. You hadn’t even stretched the truth for ultimate impact. The whole overly formal ‘Agent’ thing was definitely on purpose though. No, you had meant every word you said to Aaron, especially about not believing he’d answer if you called. What would you have even said if you called and he did pick up? Hi Aaron, remember me? Good, anyway hope you’re doing well but I think I have a murderous stalker, can you help? Actually, that’s probably exactly how the conversation would’ve gone, but that’s beside the point. 

The point was that even if you could trust the Unit Chief of the BAU to do his job, you weren’t sure you could trust Aaron Hotchner anymore. 

----

When you finally did muster up the courage to return to the conference room, you really wished you hadn’t. You should’ve just turned your car on and left. Was it possible to ghost the FBI? You’d heard enough stories from Aaron about how their tech wizard had found people with just a single loose thread, there was definitely no way you were going to make some spy like disappearance. 

Aaron wasn’t in the room, something you were grateful for in the moment. But what you weren’t grateful for was how the team had managed to set up multiple bulletin boards in your absence; filled with your photo, crime scene photos, the dead women and your personal least favorite, the dead women’s bodies. 

Of course, you knew what was going on, you were a big girl, well old enough to understand and process the gravity of the situation. But you’d only seen photos of the women alive, with personality and humanity; something about that made them look less like you and more like them. Looking at them now- dead, eyes closed, faces tilted away from the camera- these women didn’t just look like you, they were you. 

You hadn’t even realized you were drifting closer to one of the boards until you felt a hand pull at the crook of your elbow. Turning your head ever so slightly you saw JJ, giving you one of her nice looks again. 

“Y/N, you don’t need to see these,” JJ started, already pulling you in the opposite direction. You were about to agree, head already halfway to a full nod when you noticed something from the corner of your eye. 

“Wait!” You exclaimed, pulling your arm back and getting right in front of a photo of victim #2. You very gently pulled the photo of the wall and held it closely in front of your face. Were you allowed to move it? Oh well. You felt the rest of the team’s eyes burning holes through your back so you turned to face them. “I, um, I’m pretty sure the sweater she’s wearing is mine.” You said, voice coming out as a whisper. 

The team certainly seemed to liven up at that statement. Even though they hadn’t even been in LA for a full 24 hours yet, it was obvious from the start that LAPD hadn’t been lacking on the case, rather the unsub was just that good. They reported no evidence from any dump sites,- and now those sites had been contaminated far too much to double check- there had been no witnesses for any of the abductions, and the unsub hadn’t attempted any contact with Y/N; all in all, they had nothing. 

“Y/N, are you sure?” Emily asked, she was quickly pulling photos of the other three women down, bringing them over to the roundtable. “Are the women in these photos wearing anything else you recognize?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure. There’s a little hole right there, on the side, the threads were pretty loose and I got stuck on a doorknob once, ripped it right open. I couldn’t find it when I went to fix it, just assumed I threw it away and forgot.” You said quietly, moving your way to the table. Your brain wasn’t working properly, hadn’t quite yet come to the conclusion that the rest of the agents already reached. He had gotten into your house. “Oh my god.” You whispered, voice shaking. “He was in my house, wasn’t he?” 

The agents all looked down at you with sympathetic gazes before Emily finally spoke up again. “We can’t be sure just yet, but I need you to look at these photos and tell me if you recognize anything else okay? Can you do that for me?” 

You nodded, making your way over to the table and taking a seat. You were well aware one of the agents just called for Hotch, but you couldn’t be bothered with that right now. 

----

“Hotch,” Derek said, his voice urgent as he rounded the corner, interrupting whatever conversation Hotch was having with a random officer, “Y/N recognized the sweater victim #2 was wearing at the dumpsite as hers. Emily’s showing her the rest of the photos and it’s looking like the unsub left something of hers on each one.” 

That certainly got Hotch’s attention. He didn’t need Derek to fill in the blank, the unsub had been in your house. His fists tightened at his side and he couldn’t help the way his face twisted in anger. In this state, Derek knew better than to question this unusually personal reaction, instead just angling his body back towards the conference room. He didn’t even have a chance to open his mouth before Hotch brushed past him, making his way back to you. 

----

Starting with a photo of victim #1, you very slowly pulled it closer in front of you. Oh my god, her neck. Obviously, you’ve seen bruises before, been on a whole bunch of film sets that used makeup to create some pretty gory pieces, but nothing like this. The unsub didn’t just stangle these women, it was like he wanted to completely crush their throats. 

One of the agents behind you was questioning your ability to stomach this, so you quickly forced yourself to focus. It was the least you could do for these poor women, just give them your undivided attention for ten minutes, and then you could deal with everything else later.

Your finger traced over the bracelet victim #1 was wearing. “This is mine. There’s a singular heart engraved on the back of the third diamond’s plating. I bought it for myself after I got cast in my first big role, cried for weeks when I ‘lost’ it.” 

“And what about this one?” Emily asked, gently pulling victim #1’s photo away from you and replacing it with #4. You didn’t miss the way she turned the photos you’d already looked at upside down, as if to further shield you from them. Nor did you miss that she was technically skipping victim #3. 

It didn’t take you long to notice what was yours on victim #4. “It’s the dress, it’s really comfy, I used to wear it a lot, like a lot a lot. I brought it with me so often on trips I just assumed it got left in a hotel room somewhere.” 

Emily nodded, taking back that photo and turning it over as well. You could see her hesitation in showing you victim #3, but she slid it across the table to you as well. Her fingertips ghosting on the edge of the photo, ready to pull it back as soon as you gave an answer.

Victim #3 was tough. She looked the most like you, both when she was alive and certainly the way she looked now. 

You took a sharp intake of breath as you looked down at her the first thing that caught your eye was the necklace. Most certainly yours and most certainly the one that Aaron had given you for your three year anniversary. You realized it was lost a few months after the breakup and nearly tore your house apart looking for it; you didn’t have many things from your relationship with Aaron to prove he was once part of your life, making the few things you did have all the more important. “The necklace, there’s an A engraved on the back and I’m pretty sure those shoes are mine too.” Emily swept the photo back and out of view as soon as the last words left your lips. 

“JJ, get those items out of evidence immediately so we can be absolutely sure,” Hotch ordered. Aaron. You hadn’t even realized he had walked into the room, you turned to look at him, eyes wide with sadness and fear. The tears that were beginning to form tugged viciously on his heart.  “Miss L/N, my team and I are going to escort you back to your home and we’re going to need to canvas it for signs of entry and identify if anything else is missing. Is that okay?” He asked, his voice soft with something most of the members couldn’t place. 

You simply nodded at that, glad that you wouldn’t have to be alone, “Do you need my address, or will you just follow my car?” There was definitely humor in that, Aaron already knew exactly where you lived and the code to get through the gates. 

“Your address is already in our files, but for your safety we’ll be following close behind.” He assured you. The rest of the team was jumping into action, grabbing their personal belongings along with copious amounts of gloves and bags you assumed would be for potential evidence. 

As you all exited the building and entered your respective vehicles, it was Reid who realized where he’d heard that softness in Hotch’s voice before. It was the same tone he used to use with Hayley, back when things were good. 

----

Your house wasn’t far and it was a drive you knew well; grateful for the ability to somewhat distract yourself on the road. The gatesman to your development gave you a real odd look when you told him the two black SUV’s filled with FBI agents were with you, but you couldn’t care less about which neighbor he might spread that info too. Did you see? L/N brought in the FBI, wonder what she’s caught up in. At least all the neighbors and workers had signed airtight NDAs, no one was allowed to talk to any outsiders about the personal happenings of their fellow residents. 

Your house was towards the top of the hill, with a great overlook to the ocean. You had only been 20 when you bought the house and you viewed it as the ultimate achievement of all your hard work and determination. You couldn't shake the bad taste in your mouth as you pulled up the driveway. The house felt tainted now, something you were never sure you’d be able to shake. 

----

Once again, not exactly how you imagined the entire team entering your house for the first time. Your house was extensive, as were the grounds; the team quickly realized they would probably be here for the rest of the day and well into the night.

You were standing awkwardly in the middle of your foyer, unsure of how to exactly approach this situation. “So, there’s about 10 rooms in the house, not including the kitchen and general living spaces, as well with the basement which is technically one big room. I made maps once as a joke, I think I have some in the office, if you wanted those? Or we could do one big house tour and you can break off that way,” you were so rambling, but them being in your house and why they were in your house was setting in, “or you can just go off however you want-” 

“Miss L/N,” JJ said, there was that nice look again, “why don’t you show me around the house so I can get a base level understanding of everything there is. The rest of my team will go start a basic canvas of the inside and the grounds as well.” Thank you JJ. 

You nodded at this, glad that someone else was taking control of the situation. Before you could lead JJ towards the kitchen, your phone started to ring, startling you. When did you get this skittish? 

“My friend is calling,” you said, holding up your phone, “I gotta take this, I was supposed to meet him for coffee a few minutes ago.” You excused yourself, quickly making your way to an empty room away from the rest of the team. Your friend was annoyed at your more than last minute cancellation, but luckily he didn’t pry too hard and accepted your flimsy “I’m not feeling too well’ excuse on the first go. 

“I know, I’m sorry, but I promise I’ll make it up to you as soon as I feel better. Yeah, I love you too. I gotta go, bye.” As you hung up, you could feel a gaze burning into the back of your head. Turning around, you found Aaron staring down at you from the doorway. How long had he been there? 

“You should have told us about your boyfriend sooner. Trying to protect him from questioning will only-”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you exclaimed, a bit too hurriedly, “I, uh, I’m not seeing anyone at all actually, haven’t in a while.” Smooth. 

Aaron was smart enough to read through the lines and understand what you had left unsaid. His gaze didn’t give up, but you could’ve swore you saw relief somewhere in his eyes. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to say something, or if he was supposed to say something, or should you walk out, or- 

“Neither have I.” Hotch’s voice broke through your thoughts, but just as quickly as he said it, he turned on his heel and left you alone in the room.

----

a/n - if anyone is wondering ive 100% cried multiple times at how kind and supportive everyone has been with me about this story. we’re only 2 chapters in but im already sad for it to end. yes i 100% have a bunch of other wip ideas for hotch. anywaaaaaaay, replies/asks/comments/reblogs/likes always appreciated! thank you so much for reading 

Taglist: @mac99martin @iwaizumiee @kylorendrip @hqtchner @lieswithoutfairytales @ssahoodrathotchner @midsummernightdream @weasleylovers @evans-dejong @itsmytimetoodream @yoshigguk @28cnn @cuddlyklaus @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

no permission is given to republish or upload my fics anywhere else. if you see this story not on my tumblr or ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own criminal minds or any of the characters involved

[lordmomohismomoness]

Here are my top Zutara fanfiction recs.

The biggest factor in my ranking and why I recommend them is because I had a hard time putting them down. Other than that, they are pretty all over the place in terms of content and setting.

  His Majesty Prefers Blue by Shamelessliar

Rated M  212K+ words  Completed 2012

A year after the war's end, the gaang returns to the Fire Nation for a week of diplomatic meetings. There, they hear rumors about a vigilante who wears a blue mask and Katara finds herself digging deeper into his identity and motives. Blue/Zutara Lemons

Trigger warnings: rape, torture (1 scene)

This is my absolute favorite fic. It has a little bit of everything: romance, humor, drama, suspense. There is an actual plot too! It is also one of few fics which show Zuko and Katara being a great team.

  When The Mask Comes Off by Jamie Hasaku

Rated K  73K+ words  Completed 2006

After freeing her and her friends from capture, Zuko has no choice but to care for a gravely injured Katara, who was left behind by accident. The trick? Keeping his face hidden so she doesn’t hurt herself even more by trying to fight him. Zutara Blutara

This is not your average capture fic. Katara is still pretty badass. The scene where she finds out who is behind the mask made my heart melt. Hanae is one of my favorite OCs ever! It does have a sequel which has been abandoned, but that doesn't change the fact that this story is wonderful by itself.

  The Dragon and the Siren (AO3) The Dragon and the Siren (ff.net) by CultofStrawberry

Rated M/T  147K+ words  Completed 2012

Zutara, Hades x Persephone inspired. In a land of gods and spirits, Katara is the daughter of the Sea, and Zuko is the powerful and reclusive God of the Fire Realms. Zuko has been pining for her for too long... so he finally takes action.

Being a huge fan of Greek mythology and A:TLA, I did not think I would enjoy this fic. I was pleasantly surprised as the author combined the two seamlessly. The worldbuilding is amazing and the tale is not an exact replica of the myth. The AO3 link contains smut, but is incomplete. The fanfiction link has the completed story.

  Subterfuge by Smylealong

Rated M  113K+ words  WIP last updated Oct 2020

Thirty years ago, the Fire Nation attacked, throwing the world off balance. Katara entered the Fire Nation war camp at Ba Sing Se as a healer, prepared to do whatever it takes to play her part in stopping the war. Getting kidnapped with the Fire Prince and falling in love with him were not parts of the plan. AU. Zutara.

Trigger Warnings: Sexual Assault, Incest, Graphic Depiction of Violence

This fic is VERY dark. However, the writing is amazing which more than makes up for it.

  Dancing in the Dark by DamageCtrl

Rated T  61K+ words Complete 2006

Post-Season 2 AU: While in Ba Sing Se, Katara and Toph hear a rumor about two tea servers in the lower tiers of Ba Sing Se and sneak away go to investigate only to have their suspicions confirmed. On her personal time, Katara tries to teach herself to dance and fails so badly, a masked man takes pity on her to try to help.

In case you haven't noticed, I LOVE the Blue Spirit. This fic is full of fluff, and awkward Zuko is my favorite Zuko. It does start slow, but once you get into it, it is a pretty cute story. Zuko is the one with multiple suitors for once.

  Twist Me to the Left by Grapefruittwostep

Rated T  91K+ words  Complete 2017

So here Zuko is, with no family, no band, and no more record contract. Just another punker with a guitar who thinks he's got what it takes. Then he meets Avatar, the band breaking all the rules. They've got everything going for them, the rising star, and they're everything Zuko isn't. But maybe, just maybe, they want a new guitarist. As long as the pretty keyboardist with the blue eyes doesn't murder Zuko first.

Warnings: References to Drugs

This is a college age AU with an angsty emo/punk Zuko. A fluffy enemies to lovers trope, but fun nonetheless.

  Don't Stand So Close To Me by Cinemascope08

Rated M  76K+ words  Abandoned 2013

Katara and the Gaang are in full swing at Ba Sing Se University when interactions with a new professor start affecting Katara's life in increasingly complicated ways. Rated M for scenes of a graphic nature.

Trigger Warning: Torture, Murder, BDSM, Incest

Another really dark fic, but it takes a bit to get there. Once it does, you are hooked by the suspense. It is abandoned, but still a good read.

  So let us melt and make no noise by LittleLostStar

Rated M 69K+ words  WIP last updated Jan 2021

When a mission to the South Pole goes awry, Prince Zuko awakens in the home of a healer named Katara and finds his heart is damaged and his bending has vanished. His quest to find the last waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe is his destiny-- the one chance to regain his honour and return home. But as time passes and Zuko's heart heals, it becomes clear that Katara is protecting an ancient secret of her own, and that both of their destinies are entwined in ways never before thought possible.

We get to see Zuko at the mercy of Katara here. And this fic has an actual plot to it, which is an easy way to get into my good graces. There is a lot of mystery and suspense. It has slow updates, but the author has commented that she intends to complete it.

  Butterflies and Hurricanes by Rerbirth of the Phoenix

Rated T  103K+ words  Complete 2012

"You may find yourself capturing hearts that you are forbidden to keep." She is a servant. He is a Prince. Together they are about to go against everything that keeps the world at peace. Zutara

This one took me a bit to get into, as I was bothered by the ages at the start. Fortunately, it takes place over several years so we see the relationship develop. No spoilers, but wow the ending really got me.

  The Penance Series by delectate

Rated M  39K+ words  Complete 2010

The road to forgiveness is long and arduous...just ask Zuko. Season 3 Zutara, following the episodes past 312. Rated M for Mature.

Warnings: BDSM

Zuko is taken prisoner at the western air temple. As it turns out, Zuko is a masochist and Katara lets her freak flag fly. I like this one because it does such a different take on the characters, and it actually makes sense that Zuko would be a masochist since he has such a messed up family.

  Lotus Lake by Rebirth of the Phoenix

Rated T 65K+ words  Complete 2006

Zutara AU. An orphaned Katara and her brother find themselves at boarding school. Katara's first thoughts are that her life will now be filled with boredom. How wrong she was!

Trigger Warnings: Child Abuse

This is a bonus rec. While not super high on my list, it is still an enjoyable story. Plus, I really like the boarding school premise since I love shows like Rebelde and Het Huis Anubis. I would have liked to see more drama with Jet though. Still a good one if you are looking for fluff.

  I added some more to my top recs!

  Indigo Summer by Serendipitea

Rated T  21K words  Complete 2020

Zuko takes up a life guarding job the summer before going off to university. What he doesn't expect is to be completely distracted by the surfer girl with bright blue eyes.

This one is just so darn cute

  And expectations she won't meet by Gxldentrio

Rated  T  8K words  Completed 2020

Katara’s organic chemistry TA is an asshole ----- or is he?

A texting/social media fic that I reread all the time because it is just that GOOD! I love the way the author uses all the character's interactions to tell a cohesive story.

  (if my wishes came true) it would have been you by TheDecension

Rated  T  34K words  WIP Last updated Mar 2021

Katara overshares on the internet. Zuko makes it a point to only lurk. Good thing there's nothing tying their online adventures to their real lives — right?

Or, Katara and Zuko have something of a history, and when they reconnect after months of silence, there could be more going on behind the scenes than they realize.

If you haven't heard of this one, you should! It is though social media posts and text, and it is just wonderful!

[dante-vergil64]

To the Stars, The Moon Pleaded “Stay”

Sasuhina Month 2020

Day 1

Rated T

She is a most wonderful vision.

A figure of sensuality and virtue as if tailored by the gods to bring about salvation and sanctuary to this undeserving mortal ground. With skin pristine like unstained glass and smooth like tender velvet bathing soothingly in the essence of the sun as if beckoning and rejoicing in its warmth. Her hair dark, lustrous and silky beyond words in its descent against her form as if embracing her in protection and serenity. And her eyes, wide and jolly, the most captivating shade of lavender, bewitching and consuming beyond comprehension.

How is it, he wonders, that a woman like her exists? How is it, that her mere presence provokes this intense change in the contractions of his heart, in his gathering of breath, in the formation of his thoughts?

She is more than beauty, more than grace, more than warmth, more than light. She is kindness and respect. She is honesty and compassion. An angel fallen from the sky, a fairy without wings.

This he knows all too well, has known it for a long while. After all, it had been her, the one that handed him the stars, the one that found him in the dark. When he was drowning in the pain, in the loneliness of his own insignificance she had dared to reach her hand, to look at him and form a smile.

“Please don’t cry, don’t let tears inside your heart when there is so much happiness around. Smile instead, all teeth and wide, and I promise that this pain that hurts so bad…it will be banished to the sky”

It is a memory of youth, his most precious treasure.

He is unworthy of her heart, unworthy of her mind. Merely the second son, the shadow of his brother, the spare of his father. This he knows all too well, has known it for a long while. He knows his place, he knows his role.

“Lady Hyuuga turns more beautiful everyday, doesn’t she?”

“She does, undoubtedly so”

He can feel his lips smiling, his expression lost in the gift that is her. He allows himself to indulge, if only just this once, to gaze once more at her eyes, at her nose and her lips.

How is it, he wonders, that he is so lucky to be alive at this moment?

His eyes turn to his right, resting on his favorite cousin before turning around ready to head back to the station.

“You’re in love with her, aren’t you?” Shisui asks, and despite the smile lifting his lips there is something sad about his eyes

“I know my place, I know my role” he smiles, all teeth and wide “come on Shisui, there’s a ton of paperwork waiting for us”

He’s unworthy of her heart, unworthy of her mind. This he knows all too well, has known it for a long while.

But there is much he can still do, much more still left for him to give. He can vie for her protection, bring peace within the walls. He can take the burden off her friends, can take the troubles off her mind. He can wish for her happiness, can pray for her health. However far she may be, however unreachable to him, he can still try with all his might to keep the smile that she once gave, all precious and irreplaceable, illuminating her face. . . . . She’s an exhilarating performance, all fierceness and grace following wherever she goes.

Her movements, so calculated and precise, cast judgement upon the wicked in a continuous dance of silence that holds a simmering gentle fury in each and every of her soft feather touches. Dead stillness falls upon conclusion as her form forever gorgeous basks in sorrowful solemnity. Her spirit, both tranquil like the waters of a pond in coming spring and infinitely warm like the air of enduring summer, casts a blanket of protection on the weary, a promise of safety to the innocent. Her heart, pure as it is stubborn, weeps for the forsaken, prays for the forgotten, absolves the repenting. It is a tender and forgiving heart, more forgiving than anyone has any right to.

How is it, he wonders, that she continues to find the strength to forgive those who wrong her despite the pain that they cause her? How is it, that they don’t realize what an amazing woman this is, how strong and resilient and skilled she has become?

She is more than strength, more than speed, more than instinct, more than talent. She is discipline and hard work She is practice and repetition She is determination and never going back on her word

This he knows all too well, has known it for a long while. Like it was yesterday he can remember, that time he learned of the lion hiding beneath her eyes

It’s an easy memory to recall, after all, it was the first time his flash step was faster than Shisui’s, his eyes sharper than his brother’s. It begins with the report of an ambush, with her as the target and him as the backup. With fear palpable in his tongue and overwhelming in his trembling hands, he runs. But by the time he arrives she has begun, a force of nature twisting and charging with every one of her practiced steps, the absolute might of the sixty-four palms discharged upon her foes in a crescendo. And her eyes, they are still the most beautiful thing he has ever seen. This goddess given flesh is a sight to behold, and even now he remembers the staccato his heart played at the scene before his eyes. It ends with her fingers near his throat, her surprised lavender gaze overcoming the sheer look of concentration from before. He does not allow himself to wallow in the memory too long, for he knows that if he does the delicate scent of hyacinth will reach his nose and the distance that lies between them will be breached by his treacherous heart.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that sa-chan! I could have hurt you really badly. But, thank you…you know, for coming to help me”

“You really are amazing Hina”

He cannot help the strange feeling of pride every time he recalls that memory, she has grown so much, has become so strong.

He is unworthy of her heart, unworthy of her mind. Yet, he is so thankful to be able to witness this girl, a little shy and innocent and everything that is right in the world, become such a confident mature woman. It is a privilege he will never take for granted. This he knows all too well, has known it for a long while.

“Tell me dear boy, who is she? Who is this woman that consumes all of your thoughts, the one that has taken ownership of your heart?”

His gaze falls upon his mother, a look of wonder and joy in unhidden display. She’s just as lovely as when she sang her first lullaby, as attentive and caring as when he was but a young boy.  

“There is no one like that. I know my place, I know my role” he gifts her a loving smile “you don’t have to worry, mother”

He brings her into his embrace, a warm farewell and a see you soon. He does not see the light of her eyes dim. He does not see the tight grip of her fist close to her heart.

He is unworthy of her heart, unworthy of her mind. This he knows all too well, has known it for a long while.

But there is plenty he can do, a lot more left for him to see. He can marvel in her movements, both the peaceful and the violent. He can wallow in her laughter, both from memories and in her presence. He can take care of her sister, to bring both joy in any way. He can steal just one more glance, lie to himself just one more time. . . . . She is a breath of fresh air, quite familiar and comforting.

Her voice is soft and sweet like cotton, her words woven with patience, thoughtfulness and care. Even so, he can’t help but compare it to the allure of a siren’s song. The hypnotizing melody of her chords. So relaxing and consoling it has long become his favorite sound. And the silence in between, that is its own special gift. The offer of her company, of her presence within reach, of the sounds of her breath and the image of her form. As if the world was in stasis, saying it’s okay, to gaze at her just one more time. And her authenticity, her concern, her love for her family and her friends is so mesmerizing and so disarming he wants nothing more than to forget her, because he knows that it is possible, downright certain that these feelings in his heart will only grow.

She’s more than innocent, more than friendly, more than loyal, more than extraordinary She is security and peace She is the water and the wind The steady rock in minds of many, the anchor deep within.

This he knows all too well, has known it for a long while. There is one such instance of time, a time his brain cannot ignore, when the mere sight of her left him speechless, because it was a glimpse into the future, another treasure in itself. And it begins with his arrival, his form weary from a mission. The night is long as stars are bright, yet his feet carry him regardless into her warm welcoming home. What awaits him is a lady, a few years younger than her sister, yet her beauty is not diminished, only hidden by mischief.

“Sa-san, you’re back! Did you bring it?! Did you?!” “Hello to you too, firecracker. I said it was a promise didn’t I?”

Her eyes sparkle in the light of her front door, a sweet souvenir within her palms, and he knows he is being ridiculous but the thought comes anyway. She has taken after Hinata. As he holds the child in his gaze he cannot help but feel content. But the moment is then stopped, not destroyed, but expanded. She emerges from inside, all porcelain and silk and lavender in her wake. And his heart gallops one more time, long surrendered to her smile. And that is when it finally happens, the vision in his eyes travels through time. And there, standing steps ahead is a much more mature woman, with no less beauty, no less grace, no less warmth. And in her arms is not her sister, not the rebellious adventurer filled with passion and mischief, but a much more inexperienced little thing, wide eyes in wonder and curiosity. It takes everything he has to dissipate that very scene, for he knows that deep within, he’s not strong enough to face it.

He is unworthy of her heart, unworthy of her mind. This he knows all too well, has known it for a long while.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time patrolling near the Hyuuga compound. Something you want to say?”

His gaze falls upon his father, the commander of the police force, forever strict and infallible. An old wound threatens to reopen, a hurt of times long past.

“I know my place, I know my role” he salutes in subordination “Sir”

He bows and he departs. He does not see the hesitation, the inklings or regret.

He is unworthy of her heart, unworthy of her mind. This he knows all too well, has known it for a long while.

But there is much he can endure, much more left for him to bear. He can handle frozen nights, her form sound and in blissful rest He can fight against exhaustion, peace and order his reward. He can perpetuate his distance, only admire from afar. He could accept his place as second, a meager warrior and protector. Whatever price he pays is little, when measured against her smile. . . . . She is an inescapable revelation, a bright enchantment of the truth.

Her mind benevolent and understanding, captivating in humility glimpses past layers of deception, offers redemption and mercy. And her eyes, like stellar windows, like nebulous ice reflections glimmer sharply with intelligence and observe with calm rapport. Despite her powers of deduction, the blessing of her sight, her only passion is to aid, to sooth the spirit and the mind. And so she sees the hearts of men, so full of sin and of regret. And yet her hope never falters nor declines, her gaze set in the path towards the sun.

She is more than perception, more than intuition, more than introspection, more than sensation. She is experience and involvement She is patience and rumination

The culmination of her years, of her talents and her efforts.

This he knows all too well, has known it for a long while. And he’s not the only one. This ethereal creature of benevolence, of boundless wisdom and stability has already taken stage, has become a steering knight. And she is power and authority and compassion and bravery. There is no soul that does not listen, there is no dimming of her light.

“We will not risk civilian settlements! That, I will not allow! If it’s gold that is the issue, then take it from my vaults. If it’s men you are In need of, I will gladly join the fight. Whatever else may come our way, whatever hardships they may be, I will protect them with my life!”  

It is the idealistic way, the laborious road ahead, yet all it brings is inspiration, optimism and unification. He is unworthy of her heart, unworthy of her mind. This he knows all too well, has known it for a long while. The path she walks he cannot follow, he’ll never join her in the sun. She is destined for so much more, to such great heights, he can only be grateful, from the bottom of his heart, that he was allowed the chance to meet her.

“You should tell her how you feel. If you truly wish to make her happy, then that is the only way”

His gaze falls upon his brother, the man most treasured in his heart. With tired lines along his eyes, his pupils still glimmer with the kindness and the brilliance of his being. And it is him, Hinata’s promised, what she truly deserves. A man of honor, and integrity, and strength, a man whose everything that he could never be. A true pacifist and seer, so altruistic it almost hurts.

He is unworthy of her heart, unworthy of her mind. This he knows all too well, has known it for a long while.

“I know my place, I know my role” he smirks at his sitting brother, the white-red hat resting closely by his side “And I know yours. You have worried all your life, made me into who I am, I will always be grateful that I got to be your brother. So now it’s time for you to let me worry, for you to let me protect you.”

His feelings are inconsequential, they would only be a burden. More than anything else, his one single wish has been for them to be happy, for them to smile always, to repay them, to thank them. Because before he was nothing, before he was no-one. Shadow he may be, that is no longer the case. He knew plenty of happiness, reveled in their glow. Now it’s just time to look away, now it’s time to fulfill his role.

“Foolish little brother, your eyes are still closed even now. For all your prowess and your foresight you are still so incredibly blind. By choice no less. There is only one man who is in possession of her heart, only one man who consumes all of her thoughts, only one man who can evoke that precious smile. For all that you see her, that you know her, that you love her it never occurred to you that she felt the same” his smile is easy, teasing yet honest “She has rescinded the contract of marriage this very morning, confronted her father too. What will you do little brother, I wonder”

He is unworthy of her heart, unworthy of her mind. This he knows all too well, has known it for a long while.

And yet… She is a most wonderful vision. An exhilarating performance A breath of fresh air An inescapable revelation

He doesn’t have the chance to pursue her, to ask after the cancellation of the contract. She finds him first, refuses his words, grabs onto his body, kisses his lips.

And as her lips meld with his, as his tongue caresses hers, as he drowns in her essence he has to acknowledge that perhaps, just perhaps, he knows nothing after all.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Do you have any fics where Derek is a closeted high school jock and stiles is his boyfriend and they sneak around a ton but then there’s obligatory angst cause Derek won’t acknowledge stiles publicly but there’s a happy ending?

AND

Anonymous said:Hi! Do you guys know of any fics where stiles is gay/bi but derek is straight until he meets stiles? Thanks

Here’s closeted!Derek!

A Special Message From Derek Hale by HausOfSterek

(1/1 I 1,834 I Not Rated)

Stiles remembers every detail that has brought him to this moment. It’s why he believes in fate. If he hadn’t met Lydia Martin in the third grade he never would have spent years pining over her. If that hadn’t happened he would have never had an excuse to talk to her, and they would have never become friends.

Without Lydia’s influence Stiles wouldn't have ended up in LA.

Basically, what everything boils down to, if Stiles had not met Lydia Martin, he would have never met Derek Hale. If he hadn’t met Derek Hale, he would not be crying himself to sleep the night before his 29th birthday.

Because Falling’s Not the Problem by Virago77

(1/1 I 2,314 I Teen)

Derek sighed and watched and longed for what Stiles had—longed for Stiles.

Wherein Derek is pining for Stiles and afraid of his feelings.

He's right by Alba55

(1/1 I 2,717 I Explicit)

“Mr. Hale, I have your publicist on the fourth line” Stiles said as he rushed inside that tiny room.Derek was lying on the couch, holding his classical Fender Stratocaster on his lap, his right hand resting on the body of the guitar as his left hand randomly pressed the strings. He was wearing his usual ragged jeans, black boots and one of his Metallica t-shirts, the 'Ride the Lightning' one, in fact. His face was blank, looking dazed at the ceiling.

Closeted by stilinski_wolf

(2/2 I 7,483 I Teen)

Derek is part of a very rich, very conservative - and very homophobic - family, and so he has to hide who he truly is from them.

And then, Derek takes a liking to the new bartender working at the gay bar he frequents, and contemplates coming out to his family.

But his choice is taken out of his hands when his sister Cora follows him one night to the gay bar, changing Derek's life irrevocably.

Definitely Hard Feelings by JosieStilinskiBee

(3/13 I 10,556 I Teen)

Derek and Stiles were close friends. Then a confession happened. Derek rejected Stiles in the worst way possible. A year later, they haven't talked to each other ever since, but then Stiles stumbles upon Laura who's been beaten up badly and left for dead. She has to be induced in a coma to be kept alive.There's something fishy going on, what with the weird purple flowers and the weird circle of ashes Stiles found on the crime scene, along with the strange burnt marks on Laura's body. So, in spite of his hatred for Derek, he starts investigating because he can't help it and also because, despite all his resentment, Stiles can't handle the heart broken Derek he saw at the hospital after he found his almost dead sister.

We Don't Have to Be Lonely Tonight by Koukaiaru

(4/? I 36,849 I Explicit)

It all came down to answering one simple question, really – did I, or did I not want to be Derek Hale’s gay experiment.

Run, stay by allhalechris

(8/8 I 44,716 I Mature)

Derek: Do you wanna sleep with me?Stiles: Do u mean like a nap or are we gonna fuck?Derek: Yes

The one where Derek is a low level drug dealer who grew up in the system and tries to win over Lacrosse Jock Stiles, aka son of the Sherriff, who has a thing for self destructive really really ridiculously good looking, soft gangsters.

Dirty Little Secret by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(2/2 I 91,001 I Explicit)

“Holy shit, this is a date!” he blurted out, turning back to Derek wide-eyed. “This is a date! You intended for this to be a date, this was supposed to be a date!” He figured if he said it enough times, maybe he would believe it, but so far, no dice.

Derek was scowling again—seriously, did he want wrinkles?—but he just reached into one of the bags and pulled out a burger, checking what was written on the foil in sharpie before handing it over to Stiles.

“Of course it’s a date, what did you think this was?”