#that trope straight into my veins please thank you

[chiisanakurisu]

Yes, Sophie's adoptive giant family! Curuxa is her "mom" (more like her caretaker), Tommy is the sweetest adoptive big big brother and Carmina becomes a honorary grandma for the whole group.

Anyone have G/t family ideas? Just big older siblings protective? Giant younger siblings teasing their smaller older siblings? Giant parents carrying their kid even when they’re young adults?

Just anything really?

[soaringthroughthegalaxy]

Comgratulations!!! Thats a interesting celebration!!! I can not put my mind around what are you going to birth with this 😚🙀 (sorry if sound weird english is not my thing but your writing are beautiful creations so the metaphor is alright)

Can this jedi (or medic) reader travel with Crosshair (It's a shame it can't be the twins or Maker bless us, all force 99) with soulmate as luggage to either Naboo or Alderaan? 😖

Thank you for booking with Soaring's Tours. We're now ready to board your flight. Please mind the gap between the transport and the platform. We wish you a pleasant journey!

Through Your Eyes

In a galaxy consumed by war, you find solace away from the medbay and injured troopers by painting your dreams. But a chance encounter reveals those dreams are more than they seem...

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: brief reference to surgery, good ol' soulmates trope, breaking and entering, Cross can never give a straight answer, softness, romance, first kiss, lil' innuendo.

Your brush swooped across the canvas, and green paint dragged across its surface to form a tree. There was no reference holo, just the memory from last night’s dream in your mind.

Over the last year, your dreams have taken a turn. Once focused on your life, they’d now switched to landscapes - deserts, snowy mountains, swamps - they were endless. But they all had one thing in common. They were all from great heights, as if you were a bird soaring through the sky.

As a child, you found peace in painting, locking yourself away for days at a time. As you grew up and left for medical school, it helped ease your frazzled nerves after hectic days. And now, with the war raging across the galaxy and the Kaminoans relying on your expertise in trauma surgery, it was how you chased away the images of injured troopers.

As you dipped your brush into the pot of water on your desk, your gaze lingered on the small mark on your wrist - your soulmate mark. It had appeared five years ago - late by society’s standards, given that most received them before puberty. That was until a literal army of men had been revealed to the galaxy a year ago. The forums you’d frequented on the holonet had exploded, thousands of people connecting the dots that their soulmates were part of the GAR.

It was why you’d jumped at the opportunity to work for the Kaminoans when they’d been recruiting at the Grand Medical Facility. You figured it would be easier this way to find your soulmate. Some people on the forums had been able to find their soulmates through their bonds – picking up on their thoughts, sensing their feelings, or knowing they were nearby. Unfortunately, you had no idea what your connection with your soulmate was.

And you were no closer to figuring it out a year and a half into the war.

As you were about to dip your clean paintbrush into the soft brown on your palette, your datapad beeped urgently. Spurred into action, you abandoned your painting, snagging your scrubs. You dashed out of your quarters, the sterile corridor a blur as you sprinted towards the medbay. What was the emergency this time? Another trooper injured on the front lines, or perhaps an existing patient who’d turned critical?

You burst through the medbay doors, adrenaline coursing through your veins, only to be met with a scene that halted you in your tracks. A trooper lay motionless on a stretcher, surrounded by a flurry of activity as medics tended to his extensive injuries. The damage to one side of his face was the worst you’d ever seen, blood coating everything in the vicinity, and what you could see of his eye under the swelling wasn’t promising – all evidence of an explosion he’d been too close to.

Three other troopers hovered nearby, worry etched onto their faces, armour dirty and caked in blood. You didn’t even register that they looked nothing like the other clones, but you could feel a heavy gaze from their direction lingering on you.

Without hesitation, you joined the team of medics, your training kicking in as you assessed the trooper’s condition. The severity of his injuries was apparent, and you knew that every second counted. As you worked alongside the other medical personnel, your mind raced, trying to determine the best course of action to save this soldier’s life.

The medbay hummed with urgency, the air thick with tension as everyone focused on their tasks. As you worked tirelessly to stabilise the trooper, Lyndsy - a trainee medic on placement from Bespin - pressed a datapad into your hands. It was filled with notes from the team that’d intercepted the squad’s arrival, including details of the trooper.

CT-9903.

You bit your tongue. They hadn’t thought to get his name.

“Name?” You directed the question towards the three nearby troopers, gesturing to your injured patient.

“Wrecker, ma’am.” The shortest of the three spoke up, his face half-shaded by a tattoo. With a nod of thanks, you updated the information on the datapad.

“Theatre. Now.” You barked the order, stepping back to let the other medics release the brakes on the stretcher and hurriedly push Wrecker towards the operating room. A bacta bath could cure many things, but in the few moments you’d been focused on stabilising him, you’d concluded it would take far more than that for him to survive.

“I’ll do everything I can.” You assured Wrecker’s brothers quickly, wishing you had more time to explain what would happen next but knowing every second counted. With a determined focus, you led the medical team into the operating room. As the doors swung shut behind you, you blocked out the outside world, immersing yourself in the controlled chaos of the operating theatre.

Time seemed to blur as you worked, your hands moving with precision as you repaired the extensive damage inflicted upon Wrecker’s body. Each incision, each piece of shrapnel pried free, each suture, was a calculated effort to save his life, and you refused to let fatigue or doubt get in the way. The beeping of monitors and the hushed voices of your colleagues faded into the background.

Finally, you completed the last suture. As you stepped back from the operating table, your heart pounded in your chest, and you let out a deep breath, shoulders dropping with relief. You’d done all you could; now it was the Bacta’s turn. He’d likely have some prominent scars for the rest of his life, and his hearing would forever be affected, but you’d been able to replace his damaged eye with a cybernetic one and give him a blood transfusion. He’d pull through to fight another day.

Leaving the operating room, you peeled off your gloves, gown, and mask, your mind still buzzing with the intensity of the surgery as you deposited them into the biohazard chute.

“I’ll tell his squad.” Lyndsy offered, noting the tiredness in your body.

As Lyndsy’s words washed over you, a wave of gratitude swept over you. Her offer granted you some reprieve. With a nod of appreciation, you managed a faint smile before trudging back to your quarters, the tiredness starting to creep in.

Entering your cabin, you let out a long exhale, feeling the tension slowly ebb away as you sank onto the edge of your bed. The familiar surroundings offered a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos of war.

Scrubs off and buried under the comfort of your blankets, you found yourself drifting into a restless sleep. Gone were the beautiful landscapes you’d come to appreciate, replaced with images of Kamino, particularly the view from a large window. Even in sleep, your mind was working to place it, and judging by the perspective, you could pinpoint which structure it was from.

The barracks.

In the quiet corners of your mind, a realisation dawned. You hadn’t been having dreams of random landscapes; they were glimpses into someone else’s life, someone intimately connected to you. It explained the shift in your dreams, the sudden focus on places far removed from your reality. They were the places your soulmate had been seeing, the moments they had been living.

As you awakened to the soft light filtering through your window, the remnants of your dreams lingered in your mind. The realisation hit you like a ton of duracrete, settling heavily in your chest. Your soulmate was here on Kamino. The change in your dreams now made sense, and you couldn’t shake the excitement and apprehension coursing through you.

Before you could dwell too much on the revelation, there was a knock at your door. You blinked, momentarily disoriented, before pushing yourself off the bed and crossing the room to answer it. As the door slid open, you were met with the unexpected sight of Wrecker’s brothers standing in the corridor.

After brief introductions, Hunter spoke up. “We just wanted to swing by and thank you for what you did last night. Wrecker’s gonna pull through, and we owe that to you.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I was just doing my job. I’m glad I could help.” You answered, tucking yourself a little behind the door to hide the fact that you were still in sleepwear.

Crosshair’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary, his sharp eyes taking in the details of your quarters. You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling self-conscious about the messiness of your living space.

“You paint.” Crosshair commented casually, his tone betraying none of the thoughts swirling in his mind as he looked over the landscapes you’d committed to canvas.

You reached up to play with the neckline of your sleep shirt, a nervous habit that had developed over the years. “Yeah. When inspiration strikes.”

Crosshair’s lips quirked up in a subtle smirk as he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes flicking to the painting on the easel beside you. “You been there?”

“No. I paint what I dream about.” You admitted, trying to keep your voice steady despite your gut’s strange flicker of anxiousness.

He nodded thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on you as if he were piecing together a puzzle. “Funny thing about dreams,” he mused, “sometimes they’re more than just figments of imagination.”

His words hung in the air, but before you could respond, Hunter cleared his throat, breaking the momentary tension. “Well, we should get going to the debriefing. Thanks again, doc.”

You nodded, thrown off-centre by Crosshair’s comment. “Of course. Take care, and I’ll check in on Wrecker later.”

As they turned to leave, Crosshair glanced at the painting you were currently working on before leaning toward you. “When you get around to painting it, the third tree from the right was missing the bottom five branches.” He murmured, a spark of amusement in his eyes. Then he followed his brothers down the corridor, leaving you mouth agape at the door.

For days, you couldn’t shake Crosshair’s comment from your mind. It added complexity to your interactions with him and his brothers, leaving you grappling with emotions you hadn’t anticipated.

Despite your best efforts to focus on your duties in the medbay, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. Every time you passed him in the corridors or caught his gaze across the mess hall, you felt a strange pull, as if invisible threads were tying you together.

It wasn’t just you, either. There were moments when you caught Crosshair watching you, his sharp eyes giving nothing away. It left you wondering what was happening beneath the surface and what thoughts were running through his mind as he looked at you.

Returning one evening to your quarters after another exhausting shift in the medbay, you found something amiss. The door to your cabin was slightly ajar, and a sliver of dim light spilt into the corridor. Your heart skipped a beat as a rush of adrenaline coursed through you. You cautiously pushed the door open, expecting the worst, only to be met with an unexpected sight.

Crosshair was inside your quarters, standing by the easel where your latest painting was. His attention was fixated on the canvas as if examining every brushstroke with precision. His presence in your private space sent a jolt of alarm through you, but you couldn’t deny the intrigue that accompanied it.

“Crosshair?” you ventured cautiously, stepping into the room with a mix of apprehension and curiosity. “What are you doing here?” you asked, unable to suppress the hint of accusation in your voice.

Crosshair turned to face you, his expression unreadable as he regarded you with those piercing eyes. “Admiring your work.” He replied casually, though there was a hint of something else in his voice.

You felt a surge of irritation at his nonchalant response. “It’s not polite to enter someone’s quarters without permission.” You retorted, crossing your arms over your chest defensively.

He shrugged, unfazed by your admonishment. “Noted.” He commented, his gaze drifting back to the paintings. “Figured I’d see if you were around.”

You felt a flutter of excitement mixed with apprehension at his words. “Well, here I am.” You said, gesturing to the room around you. “Not much to see, I’m afraid.”

Crosshair’s smirk widened into a grin, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “I wouldn’t say that.” He replied cryptically, his gaze lingering on you in a way that sent a strange sense of heat curling through you.

“How did you know about the branches?” You steered the conversation in what you hoped was a safer direction, shutting the door behind you before you crossed over to him, glancing at the painting.

Crosshair tilted his head slightly, his gaze still fixed on the painting. “I’m familiar with that species of tree.” He lied.

You narrowed your eyes sceptically, not convinced by his explanation. “It was more than that.” You countered, gesturing towards the canvas. “You pointed out a specific detail you wouldn’t know unless you’d been there or inside my head.”

He chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Let’s just say I have an eye for detail.” He said cryptically, his tone teasing.

You couldn’t help but feel frustrated at his evasive response. “You’re not going to give me a straight answer, are you?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest once more as you regarded him with curiosity and exasperation.

Crosshair turned to face you fully, a smirk tugging at his lips, his gaze intense. “Where’s the fun in that?” He replied, his tone playful.

You refused to back down. Holding his gaze, your lips pressed into a thin line.

The silence hung heavy in the air, and anxiousness clawed at Crosshair. He’d thought he could play dumb. He should’ve known better. With a heavy sigh, he gestured to your painting on the easel. “Myrkr. The coordinates for that spot are 42.3814° N, 80.0889° E. I was there eight rotations ago. It’s where Wrecker had his accident,” he confessed.

“Bormus.” He stated, gesturing to one of your other paintings leaning against the wall. “51.5074° N, -0.1278° W.” He rattled off the coordinates before moving on to another painting, and another, and another…

You’d seen glimpses of his life.

“Does this mean...?” You began, the words catching in your throat as you searched for the right way to express the flood of emotions coursing through you.

Before you could finish your sentence, Crosshair took a step closer, closing the distance between you until barely a breath of space separated you. His gaze bore into yours with an intensity that stole your breath away, sending a jolt of electricity dancing along your skin. “I think it means we have a lot to talk about.” He murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine.

A thousand thoughts and emotions swirled through your mind, but in that moment, you could only focus on the undeniable pull drawing you towards him.

Crosshair’s hand gently cupped your cheek, sending a shockwave of warmth through you. His gaze softened. “I’ve been dreaming too.” He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to break the fragile spell that had enveloped the two of you.

Your breath caught in your throat at his confession. “What do you dream of?” You managed to ask, although you already knew the answer.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Crosshair’s lips, his thumb tracing a gentle path along your cheekbone. “Surgeries. Sterile medbays.” He answered. “While you get the landscapes I see, I get the shot regs and operations that you see.”

“Our link is sharing what we see.” You whispered, the realisation washing over you like a gentle wave. “Through our dreams.”

Crosshair nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “Seems that way.” He agreed, his voice soft with a tenderness you hadn’t expected from him. “I never imagined my soulmate would be a hot doctor.” He confessed, sliding an arm around your waist to hold you close, his fingers that had been against your cheek now pushing errant strands of your hair out of your face.

A soft laugh escaped your lips as warmth swept through you. One hand moved to rest against his chest. “And I never thought mine would be a handsome soldier.” You admitted, reaching up with your free hand to ghost your fingers across his sharp jawline, relishing the feeling of his closeness.

Lost in each other’s eyes, the world outside your quarters faded into insignificance. “What do we do now?” You asked quietly, entirely at a loss.

“I’d like to explore this further.” He confessed, his voice rough with emotion as his gaze dipped to your lips for a fraction of a second. “If you’re willing.”

You nodded, a smile playing across your face. “I’d like that.”

Pleased, Crosshair spared no time before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

The galaxy ceased to exist. His lips were warm against yours, firm and demanding. You responded eagerly, your fingers dragging through his silver hair as you deepened the kiss, your heart pounding.

Crosshair pulled back, and you found yourself breathless and dizzy, your senses reeling from the intensity of the moment as his hands snaked towards your ass. Holding his gaze, you gasped quietly as his slender fingers grabbed at the curvature of your rear.

A smirk crossed his lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Not bad for a first kiss,” he remarked, his tone teasing, “but I think we can do better.”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite the heat rising to your cheeks. “Yeah?” You challenged.

He leaned in closer, the scent of regulation soap and blaster cleaner filling your senses. His lips brushed the shell of your ear. “These hands don’t just make perfect shots.” He whispered.

With a playful swat to his chest, you chuckled, feeling a surge of excitement and a healthy dose of nervousness. “You better be prepared to back that up.”

Crosshair grinned as he pulled back, his eyes sparkling with anticipation. “Oh you can count on it.”

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[thedancingcostumeyoungadult]

A Season for Lovers (part 1)- S.R.

Doctor Spencer Reid returns after two years away, joining the social season with eyes only for one young lady.

Spencer Reid x reader

Part 2 here, part 3 here, part 4 here

Warnings: eventual smut but not in this part, mutual pining, brothers best friend trope, i think that's about it

Word count: ~2800

Spencer’s heart nearly hammers out of his chest as he draws near to you. He’d decided the first second he saw you that you were the loveliest thing he had ever laid eyes upon and tonight only reinforced his conviction. The pale blue of your gown glimmers in the dim candlelight, and your smile is bright as day when you notice him. His heart threatens to leap from his chest, hammering wildly at his ribcage. Two years since he’d seen you last, and you had only managed to nestle yourself further into his heart.

“Doctor Reid, I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't join us tonight.” He prays that the low light conceals the flush rising across his cheeks. Offering a shallow bow, he somehow manages to keep his voice from shaking.

“Miss y/l/n, I wouldn't miss it for the world. May I?” He gestures to your dance card, hanging about your wrist from a delicate violet cord. With another smile, you offer it to him and his heart soars when he sees the space for the next dance is blank.

“Seeing that this dance is not spoken for, would you be so kind as to accompany me to the floor?” You take his proffered hand and your touch, even through gloves, sends a thrill up his spine. As the music starts and you begin the practiced, measured steps, his mind wanders to the day you’d met.

“Thomas!” You’d come from the house in a hurry, the ringlets of your hair fluttering in the breeze as you threw your arms about your brother. “You’re early!” Yours was the sweetest voice, Spencer thought as he stood slightly dumbfounded behind his friend. 

“We made good time, thanks to my friend here. Speaking of Mr. Reid, allow me to introduce you to my sister, y/n y/l/n. Y/n, Spencer Reid.” The soft smile you offered him then sent his hand shaking as he removed his hat as gracefully as he could.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Reid.” His hat held over his heart, Spencer bowed.

“The pleasure is mine, Miss y/l/n.”

“Have you heard from my brother at all?” You pull him from his reverie, sending a fresh rush of heat to his face.

“Y-yes, yes, some.” He clears his throat. “I hear he is doing well in London.” Your eyes sparkle as you let out a quiet laugh.

“Indeed he is, we expect he’ll be announcing an engagement by the end of the season.” 

“When he does, please give him my congratulations.” His hand rests at your waist and you are tantalizingly close, close enough that he could almost imagine bridging the gap, letting his lips meet yours. But he won’t, he can’t. 

“I will.” A few moments pass before you speak again. “In the vein of due congratulations, I hear you have completed another doctorate.” You had been listening for him, he thinks with a joyful leap of his heart, or at least cared enough to remember what you’d heard.

“Two, actually.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise.

“At this rate, Doctor, you seem to be after every degree they offer.” He can’t help but laugh with you, shaking his head lightly at the lightly teasing tone of your voice.

“Something along those lines, yes.” 

Talking with you has always been easy, natural, like he didn’t need to put on any mask or pretense, like he can simply speak and be understood. As you continue the dance, he allows himself to bask in your presence, just as smitten as he had been two years earlier. 

He guides you gently through a turn, allowing a small smile to creep across his face as you duck gracefully under his arm. The dance is coming to a close, much to Spencer’s dismay. With one final chord, the room comes to a standstill. 

Your eyes seem to see straight to his soul as you hold his gaze, the breathless moment of silence stretching on as his heart beats furiously in his throat. 

When he told Gideon that he was coming here for the summer he had asked him why. Spencer hadn’t been able to give him much of an answer, mumbling something about old friends and invitations. But now, looking down at the woman before him, he knew the answer and it was you. 

Then the moment passes. The world spins back into motion, the chatter of the crowd flooding in once more. He gives you a low bow as you dip into a curtsy, offering you his hand once more to escort you off of the floor. As he walks with you on his arm, he almost dares to hope that you might feel the same for him as he does for you. He’d convinced himself of your feelings a million times, first that you shared his, then that you did not, back and forth until his head spun. He wondered if you smiled at everyone the way you smiled at him, or if that glitter in your eye was reserved for him alone. He prays that it is as they approach your chaperone, an aunt, if Spencer remembers correctly from his brief introduction to the extended family two summers before. 

“Aunt Lucy, you do remember Doctor Reid? He’s a friend of Thomas’.” The kindly woman to whom you speak offers him a smile.

“Yes of course, so good to have you back in town for the season.” Spencer bows to her, now remembering her name.

“It’s my pleasure, Mrs Michaels.” Your hand slips from his and his heart sinks. The older woman sits back in her chair, studying him head to toe.

“Tell me, young Doctor, who is it that you’re staying with while you’re here?” Without your hand in his, he doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands, so he clasps them loosely behind his back as he replies.

“The Beaumont family, ma’am. They’re friends of my mother’s.” His gut twists painfully at the mention of his mother, but he keeps the emotions from showing on his face.

“Oh yes, I am well acquainted with the Beaumonts, lovely hosts aren’t they?” He nods in agreement and is about to respond when a man with dark brown hair and a slightly pinched expression appears at his shoulder, offering the women a small bow and him a curt nod.

“Pardon the interruption, Mrs Michaels, Miss y/l/n, Mr?” He cocks his head questioningly at Spencer, his hand offered to shake.

“Doctor. Reid.” Spencer knows with a sinking feeling in his gut that you are about to be swept away and his time with you would likely be over for the evening as he shakes the proffered hand.

“Alexander Fields.” It seemed his interest in Spencer only extended as far as his name, the man already turning to you and offering another bow while extending his hand.

“Miss y/l/n, may I have this dance?” Spencer hopes he isn’t making things up when your eyes flicker to his for a split second over the other man’s head, but it’s so fast it could be his eyes playing tricks on him. You offer the newcomer a smile and a small nod.

“Of course, Mr Fields, allow me first to bid my goodnight to Dr Reid.” His heart once again flutters as you turn back to him.

“It is a pleasure to have you back, Dr Reid, you must call on us soon.” It’s his turn to bow, hoping again that it hid the flush on his cheeks. 

“I will.”

-

Mr Fields sits across from you, droning on and on about building projects and land agreements. He’d asked you maybe one question in the half hour he’d been there. Your mind wanders, as always, to amber eyes and unruly curls, soft smiles and fleeting words.

You take the corner a little too fast, your eyes trained on the carpet under your slippers as you hurry back to your room, the letter to your best friend already half composed in your mind. Suddenly your shoulder clips something solid and you stumble, grasping at the first thing you can as you let out a surprised squeak. It takes a moment once you've steadied yourself to register what exactly you're supporting myself against. Your hand rests in his, almost tiny by comparison as he holds you up. Blood rushes to your face as his skin burns against yours, your knees going wobbly and your heart fluttering wildly. Ever so slowly you manage to raise your gaze and find yourself looking straight into the eyes of Spencer Reid. You can’t breathe, frozen to the spot for what felt like an eternity. A door slams deep in the house, causing you to jolt back, dropping his hand. He blinks at you, then clears his throat.

“Are you alright?” Your brain won’t form words, so you just nod and give him a small, tight smile. He returns the gesture, stepping to the side so you can pass. A heavy tightness settles in your chest as you walk past him, the ghost of his touch lingering on your skin and making it difficult to walk away. You want to take his hand in yours and never let go, to learn every curve and plane by heart, to memorize their touch. 

You are jolted back to the present as Mr Fields stands, clearly moving to be on his way. You stand as well, nodding with a polite smile as he bids his goodbye, first to you, then to your mother before making his way out of the drawing room. As the door shuts you let your shoulders slump with a sigh, rolling your eyes in exasperation.

“A fine young man, Mr Fields.” She comments, giving you a pointed look to which you respond with a bored glare.

“Only if you never have to speak to him.” Before she can chide you for your rudeness, there is a soft knock at the door and Michael, your footman, appears shortly after. 

“Mrs y/l/n, Miss y/n, there is a Doctor Reid here to see you.” You feel rooted to the spot even as your mother stands, your blood rushing in your ears just as it had at the ball, when you’d seen him approach through the dim candlelight. It had been like a fresh breath after two long years without air. And now he was stepping through the door of the drawing room as he had done dozens of times, greeting your mother as if he wasn’t making your head spin just by being there.

“Dr Reid! How wonderful of you to call on us.” Your mother’s voice sounds distant to you as she exchanges pleasantries with your guest, casting you a quick look when you don’t join in, still dumbstruck. “Mr y/l/n is in his study, I would be happy to show you the way.” She begins to move but he stays, speaking with a soft smile.

“Thank you, Mrs y/l/n, but I cannot stay long.” His eyes drift across to find yours and you feel a warm flush rise in your face. “I was actually calling to see if yourself and Miss Y/n might be joining us for the Beaumont’s picnic tomorrow.” This shakes you from your stupor, butterflies exploding in your stomach as you smile brightly back at him as your mother answers.

“It would be our pleasure, Dr Reid.”

-

The picnic was a stunning success with dozens of bright little camps scattered about the sprawling lawns of the impressive Beaumont estate, presided over by a brilliant blue sky. Families gathered on chairs and blankets or meandered slowly along the paths, groups forming and disbanding in an ever changing current. At your family’s camp, your mother and aunt lounge in chairs under the white awning while a small ways away you and Spencer share a picnic blanket as you both read your respective books. Or rather he reads and you daydream, your mind wandering through twisting plotlines and wonder filled adventures.

“I think that if it were not so improper, I’d be an actress.” You declare, tossing a ringlet out of your eyes as you lean back on one arm, the other holding your parasol upright. Spencer tilts his head to look at you from where he’s laying facing you on the far edge of the large blanket, one elbow holding him up as he reads from the worn book before him. A smile plays on his face as he squints at you against the sun.

“Would you?” You nod back to him, sure and confident. 

“Yes, I think that storytelling is one of the most honorable of human pursuits and I would like to be a part of it beyond reading from a book.” You catch his eye, quickly amending your words. “Not to say that reading isn’t a most enjoyable pastime, of course.” His look and tone turn teasing as he repeats.

“Of course.” You narrow your eyes warningly at him before returning to your own book. “I think you would be wonderful.” His voice brings your gaze flying back to meet his, a cool breeze picking up as smiles spread across your faces. The eye contact makes you blush and eventually you need to look away. To your slight confusion, the sight that greets you is a Beaumont footman making his way to your family’s camp. 

“Doctor Reid, a letter for you.” Abandoning his book and sitting up, Spencer accepts the small envelope with a thank you and a nod. Your heart sinks as you watch him open it, a small furrow forming between his brows as he reads. When he finishes he lowers the letter to his lap, looking over at you sadly.

“My apologies, Miss Y/n, I’m afraid I must return to Washington.” You climb to your feet as he does the same, holding your book in front of you as you try to hide how deep your disappointment at his departure runs. 

“I understand, Dr Reid, duty calls.” Something you say gives him pause, a bare hint of a smile in his eyes as he looks down at you. 

“Please, Miss Y/n, call me Spencer.” Your heart jumps again at the tenderness in his tone and you find yourself smiling again, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Very well, Spencer.” He looks at you for a moment, then begins to turn away.

“Spencer?” Immediately he turns back to you and his bright gaze makes you blush and falter, your eyes darting down to the grass then back to him. “Uhm, will you be returning?” Your heart flutters as his smile widens, his eyes soft.

“As soon as I can, Miss Y/n.” With that he’s off, pausing to bid goodbye to your family, then he’s making his way across the lawn, eventually getting lost in the crowd. 

“I think if she gets her way, he’ll return with a ring.” Your aunt teases loudly, causing you to turn and stick out your tongue at her, earning you a laugh from her and a scolding look from your mother. You stoop to retrieve your book, depositing it on the small table under the awning and setting off on a mission to find your best friend amid the crowd.

“Amelia!” You call out when at last you find her, the two of you reuniting with a hug and quiet squealing.

“How was New York?” You ask, excited to hear about the months she’d spent away, looping your arm in hers as you stroll along the path that runs along the border between the Beaumont estate and your family’s property, the trees forming a green tunnel in the sun and casting dappled shadows along the ground.

“Oh it was simply wonderful!” She fills you in on the workings of the city, the people she’d met, and the young man who was currently on his way from New York to ask her father for her hand. 

“But enough about me,” she breezes, squeezing your arm. “I hear that a certain young doctor is back in town.” You feel yourself flush, knowing that Amelia knows the depths of your affection for Spencer.

“He actually was called away on business earlier.” You feel her waiting for you to continue, but you let the silence sit until she can’t contain herself.

“Well? You’re courting aren’t you?” She demands, shaking your arm. 

“Maybe!” You don’t know for sure, you’d shared only one dance and his visit the day before could hardly be called much of a visit, but he’d sat the whole morning and into the afternoon on that blanket with you, and asked you to use his first name, certainly not things a young man does with a simple acquaintance. “I’m not sure yet.” She scoffs, earning her a raised eyebrow.

“From what I understand he’s danced with no one but you, called on no young women but you, and don’t think I didn’t see him carrying your picnic blanket this morning.” 

��You were here this morning?” She ignores your indignant interruption, barreling forward as if you hadn’t spoken.

“If that doesn’t make his affections abundantly clear, I’m afraid I must inform you that you are blind. That man is head over heels, my dear.”

~~

Aahh please please lmk what you think! I've been working on this forever and I finally have enough to post so I'm so excited to get this out!

Please like and reblog!

~taglist~

@reidsbookclub @f-me-reid @spencer-reid-wonderland @dungeons-are-too-cold

Message me if you want to be added to the taglist!

[samantitheos]

Weekly Tag Wednesday

AND IT'S STILL WEDNESDAY (a first). Thank you @blue-disco-lights and @wehangout for the tag. <3

Name and A03 handle: sam / ms_gallavich [cringe]

Current Location: living room couch in my new apartment. the upgrade from my last apartment is actually insane. i'm quite pleased.

Favourite picrew: any one in which i am channelling my lord and saviour, mickey milkovich. par exemple:

What's one thing you want in a picrew? uhh...good piercing options?

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom? as cringe as it is now several years removed, i was at one time one half of a very elaborate long-form mickey/ian rp on instagram that we regularly maintained throughout most of the "dark years" (2017-2019) when we thought s07e11 was the last time we'd ever see gallavich on screen. i feel like it brought a wide swath of the fandom together at that time, and it was a lot of fun.

less cringe, i like these two embroideries lol.

Why is it your favourite? gallavich embroidery got me through the pandemic lockdowns tbh. i taught myself stitches watching youtube videos and would work on pieces while binge watching different shows. (remember tiger king and squid games? lol. wild. feels like a lifetime ago.) made me feel at least semi-productive. also i love skeletons, so obvi that one is dear to me lol.

Did it come easily or was it hard to create? i am straight garbage at doing the lettering. i also rip out and restitch sections a lot.

Last ao3 fic you commented on? definitely left an unhinged comment on @suzy-queued's A Song Only You Can Hear fairly recently.

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? Grayola's Things Beyond Mistake was a punch to the tit, i won't lie. and i walked into anomalously's Promised Land with eyes wide open, knowing it was abandoned, and yet... 🥲i'm still subscribed to about 20 others i am still holding out hope for... 🥲🥲

Favourite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic? it would probably be easier to name the tropes i don't like lol. love a good soulmate fic. and got to love "only one bed" hehe. slow burn and friends to lovers/mutual pinning too. just inject that straight into my veins.

Least favourite? i wouldn't say it's a trope, but i strongly dislike fics where they sleep with other people. don't care for mpreg either. or mcd (unless its something supernatural wherein they are only dead temporarily -- then i love it).

Secret or surprising kink or trope? most surprising would be abo (minus the mpreg), since i had never even heard of it until about a year after i started reading fic. thank god for that comprehensive abo primer on a03 lol.

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? "i'm deleting this 30 seconds after i post unless someone likes it"

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: i'm a lone wolf these days.

It's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____? start rereading something old written by one of my og favs.

(e.g., @loftec, @wehangout, @goodkwuestion, @gallavichy, @palepinkgoat,

@beckyharvey29, @the-rat-wins, @biblionerd07, @crimson-bebop, @captainjowl,

andchaos, mellow_yellow, MintSauce, Violet_Jones, lilbatfacedgirl, romanticalgirl, anomalously, horror_business, 09cityskylight, so many more that i missing that i now have anxiety lmaoooo)

Tagging a few people and extending the invite to anyone who would like to play. <3 @jademickian @transsexual-dandelions @ms-moonlight-inn @mickeym4ndy @sweetbee78

[whump-a-la-mode]

For Your Own Good

I’ve seen a lot of stuff about bad caretakers floating around recently, and I really love the trope, so I tried my hand at it. I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Whumpee soon finds out that their safehouse may be little more than another prison.

CW//Bad caretaker, collars, shackles, being cut off from the outside world, stolen phones, controlled internet access, attempted gaslighting

“You’re safe here.”

The words were soft, whispered into the ear of a Whumpee who could hardly believe them. They were out, they were free. And they would never have to be scared again.

Caretaker used their elbow to close the door behind them, their hands thoroughly occupied by the half-limp person they carried bridal style. With a gentle motion, they laid them upon a couch, a hand stroking softly through matted hair.

“No one is ever going to hurt you. Never again. I promise.”

For the first time in so, so long, Whumpee allowed themself to relax. To truly, genuinely relax. They were safe. Whumper was gone.

Everything was okay again.

They felt like weeping.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

The room was empty.

Mostly, at the very least, though it was decorated by a floor of thin carpeting, and a few pieces of stray furniture.

Whumpee leaned on Caretaker as they stepped through the door, scarred legs unable to support their own weight.

“You can stay here, for the night.” Caretaker murmured. “I know it’s not much, but it would be too suspicious, having two bedrooms. We can’t let anyone know you’re here. I’m sorry. It’s for your own safety. I’ll try to get a mattress or something for you, when it’s safe.”

They nodded in understanding, trying to ignore just how familiar it felt, to be left in a room, small and dark and forgotten. Remembered only when a certain Whumper needed to blow off a bit of steam. Or, if they were feeling particularly cruel, flame.

“Thank you.” Whumpee nodded. As Caretaker left the room, they retired to the space they had been used to occupying for so long-- curled up in the corner of an oubliette.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

It was a knock on the door that stirred Whumpee awake. Pins and needles flowed through their limbs as they unfolded themself from the corner. For a split second, adrenaline overtook their veins, instinctual terror wondering which torture implement would be brought for them, this time.

Instead, the door opened to a plate of food, in Caretaker’s hands. It was still warm-- when was the last time they had had a warm meal?

“I think it’s safer if you eat in here.” They hummed. “There’s a window in the dining room-- if you can call it that. It’s just where the table is. I don’t want anyone seeing you. It’s safe in here, no windows.”

Whumpee nodded, giving a thankful smile as the food was placed in front of them. A hot meal. A safe place to sleep.

They could stay here forever.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Caretaker?”

Whumpee knocked on the door again-- the door to Caretaker’s office. They could feel their shoulders tense, even just being here. In their month of residence, they had grown so used to their room. It was cozy. It was safe. It was where they belonged.

“Yes, Whumpee?”

They hated being out of it like this, but...

“Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

Doing their very best to hide any residual shaking in their hands, Whumpee pushed through the door, into the room, where their guardian sat, poring over piles of paper and pens. They approached the side of the desk, noting that the scrawling of pencils on paper did not cease, even so.

“I was just wondering, um-,” Whumpee began. “I was wondering if the Internet is working for you? It’s been down for me for a few hours.” They held up their phone, waving. They couldn’t believe Caretaker’s kindness, how long had it been since they’d had a phone? “I can try to reset the router...”

“The internet is fine.” Caretaker shook their head. “It’s your phone.”

“My phone?”

“Do you know how easy it is to track a phone? I didn’t even think about it, getting it for you.”

“I don’t...”

“I disabled the internet, on there. It’s not going to be able to connect. It’s for your own safety. If that device ever got connected to you, you could be tracked in an instant. Whumper could find you.”

Oh. Of course.

For their own safety. They had been foolish, to think using the internet so freely would be safe.

“I got a TV for you. I’ll put it in your room when it gets here.”

“Thank you.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The next time Whumpee needed Caretaker, they did not leave their room. They did not want to risk such a thing. Instead, they waited until that familiar knock came, heralding dinnertime. Not that it was easy to keep track of such a thing-- only a week after disabling the internet on their phone, Caretaker had taken the device away altogether. Too unsafe. Too easy to track.

For their own safety.

The door opened, bringing with it the smell of warm food. It was a smell that threatened to make Whumpee sick to their stomach.

They were grateful for the food. Of course they were, they should have relished in the delight of being given a warm meal, instead of scraps. But, eating the same thing, twice a day for over a month...

Even though they knew it was a terrible thought to have, they would have rather starved than eat the same thing again. But they would eat it. Caretaker would come in in an hour, to make sure.

“Thank you.” Whumpee nodded as the sickly-smelling plate was placed on the floor before them.

“Of course.”

“There’s, um, the TV had been really nice. Thank you so much.”

“If it makes you happy, I’m glad to have got it.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Um, I was wondering if you could take a look at it? I’m not really a tech person... It’s not working right. It has recordings, but it won’t connect to any live channels. Says there’s no connection. Maybe a cable is-”

“Oh, it’s supposed to be like that.”

“It is?”

“Of course it is. TV channels, you never know what could be on them. They broadcast all kinds of scary things, and we both know how sensitive you are. I don’t want you to get scared when I’m not around to help.”

“Oh.”

“So, it has recordings. I’ve watched them myself. They’re all safe, I promise.”

“Thank you.” That time, it was not genuine. They bit their lip.

“Of course. For your own safety, Whumpee.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?! How stupid?!”

Whumpee flinched at the scream, not having even had time to close the door into the home. They took a step back, wincing as a gust of wind slammed the door closed on its own.

Caretaker’s face was red, fuming, just like...

“I-”

“I don’t want an explanation. You know going out like that is dangerous! In here, I can guarantee your safety. There’s no one out there to protect you.”

“I know.” Whumpee snapped. “Please, I just went into town for a few hours. I haven’t been out in so long...”

“Because being out like that is dangerous.”

“I don’t care. Maybe I want it to be. Maybe I’m willing to risk danger if it means having a life!”

Caretaker bit their lip, shaking their head.

“Your trauma is fogging up your mind, you can’t even think straight. That’s why you need me. Come here.”

Whumpee obeyed, without a second thought. From a table nearby, Caretaker plucked something, something-

Something round and leather and-

A collar.

The buckles screeched against the leather strap as the loop was fastened about Whumpee’s neck. The lock was small, but clearly too strong to break, and as Caretaker closed it, they put the key in a pocket.

“There. It’s just a tracker, so I’ll never have to worry about losing you. Never again. Now. It’s time for you to get back to your room.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

“I thought you would’ve learned.”

The sharp words cut the air as briskly as a whip.

“I didn’t realize just how bad your mind has gotten.”

Caretaker’s fingers looped under Whumpee’s collar, between leather and skin, dragging them forward. They tried to fight, tried to stop moving, but they were no match for their guardian’s strength. A simple tug on the leather loop was all it took to keep them moving again.

“I’m sorry about this. You have to know I’m sorry. But it’s the only way.”

They arrived at the door to Whumpee’s room. The lights had never worked, but they didn’t need to. When Caretaker opened the door, the inside was clear enough.

Five loops, installed into the wall. Five lengths of chain. Four shackles.

One for each wrist. One for each ankle. And one for their collar.

“It’s for your own good, honey. I promise.

[asukaskerian]

I love Days on a Whire so much! It hits all the best tropes and makes all the characters so complex and compelling. I kind of want to ask what would have happened if, completely losing their heads to the heat, Madara and Izuna had managed to knock Tobirama up despite their best efforts. Would there still have been a chance to make peace work, before everyone went mad with baby fever/bloodline theft accusations?

eee #^__^# thank you!

and i... totally came up with a scenario for that one too... no self, you cannot write it, you do not need another endless multipart. no.

anyway here’s some babble. under the cut cause it got long.

(fallout from heat sex, discussion of forced abortion.)

so first, they fuck. Izuna is trying to hold back but he has wanted tobirama for so long and madara pumping out enough pheromones in a small enclosed space to drop a bull does not help. Tobi and madara are straight up gone.

so by the time they come down from it, it’s like ten AM and they have about thirty uchihas milling around outside the nest, plus like several elders.

thing is, the hormonal need to fuck might be gone but now it’s time for hormonal “yay new mate i like and trust you so much our babies will be so pretty”. they’re smart enough to know it’s heat-induced and will fade with time but that doesn’t mean the feelings themselves feel fake. so as they slowly come to terms with the scope of the clusterfuck this is, they start by detaching from each other but the distress scent is Not Fun so there is still some “it’s not like i’m enjoying touching you but you’ll take your ankle out of my hand only if you cut it off at the wrist first. it’s uh, so you don’t escape. yeah.”

madara very somberly promising tobi he’ll be treated as fairly and safely as madara can order done so PLEASE don’t kill your way through my men, izuna electrifyingly torn between “cannot trust a single word you say and definitely cannot trust you with my people” and “if any of them looks at you twice i will remove their eyeballs with a spoon” because, he remembers the rape threats, and if anything in that vein is even mentioned he will not handle it well.

tobirama doesn’t talk much, just agrees quietly to be taken back to the uchiha compound and send a message to hashirama later on.

it is Tense and there’s lots of elders yelling at home and tripling the number of patrols to brace for the senju coming en masse to rescue him. madara and izuna refuse to lock him up in an isolated cell because they need him in sight and they’re the only ones good enough to safely guard him, and anyway the main family’s house is lousy with safety seals and... and yeah no, putting him in one of their bedrooms would be Too Much, so he gets to be imprisoned in some hastily emptied and re-sealed other room. it’s a windowless box but it has a fire pit that can be repurposed as a nesting area so why not.

it takes about three very stubborn hours that night before izuna marches back in with an armful of blankets and pillows, daring tobi to say a damn thing about it. tobi was feeling very isolated and was not sleeping so he doesn’t snark, for once. anyway izuna and madara spend the night in that room, alternating sitting up to keep watch and nesting down with him. but not quite touching.

the next morning there’s very terse “i acknowledge that your scent is changing and this means you’re potentially pregnant even though so early in a pregnancy that might not last” and “i’m writing hashirama eventually (firm promise!) but only after the council has agreed on proceedings so we need to also talk between us”

izuna does not understand why tobirama is even still here. is it a trap? it hurts to think it’s a trap but what else can it be. madara reluctantly agrees that it’s very odd he didn’t try to at least signal his brother for help or anything. because so long as hashirama doesn’t know where he is then anything can be done to him with zero accountability.

tobirama walks them very exhaustedly through what would happen if he went back home. 1) bloodline theft means they’re right back to a war of eradication. dozens of his kinsmen will die. 2) going back to be safe but promising on his honor he’s taken abortifacent drugs and there’s not going to be babies would never be believed. he can totally genjutsu up a flat belly for seven months and everybody knows it. it’s meaningless. 

so if he stays they might kill him just to be sure. (which is not something he’s gonna take lying down, he doesn’t say, but they all knows that.) but if all that’s asked of him is to stay locked up while they make him drink the baby-b-gone potion and keep him a week to make sure all is clear before proceeding to whatever diplomatic trade they must... or even trying to lock him up Forever? at this point he can escape cleanly and they’ll be pissed off but not Pissed Off and he’ll have avoided total war.

anyway the uchiha clan needs to be certain there is zero possibility of bloodline theft, or else it’s gonna be hideously horrible AND all the neighbors with a bloodline will turn on the senju too. so yes, he’s staying. for now.

izuna and madara of course agree that there can be no babies and never could have been any babies but. ow.

izuna is very “..oh ._.” over figuring out that tobirama is okay with risking his life to keep the conflict down, he kinda thought he was the type of guy to fuck off right home and be like “sweet, free reign to massacre any uchihas i come across now that my brother can’t tell me it’s overkill”. he can’t help but admire the guts and selflessness a little.

tobirama: ... also what do i tell them when they ask why nobody’s got eyes like theirs except for the enemy. and raising them alone at the edge of the clan is not... *yeah said too much, locks up again*

madara: hashirama would not let you do it alone though :(

tobi, frustrated at their obtuseness: that’s why i’d have to take them and go. how do you think it would go the first time he caught someone treating them like distasteful mistakes only good for their potential as weapons against you? the blow-up would ruin his standing. i can’t allow that. *a moment of unhappy silence* ... i’d manage fine. it can’t be that difficult.

anyway when they leave to talk to the council izuna and madara are very unhappy. both “oh no he’d be such a good clan matriarch” “except for the part where we’re enemies and none of our clan would like that yeah okay” plus izuna is aughghhg trying to tell himself tobi’s manipulating them by making himself look all noble and stuff but Oh No His Heart and madara dislikes ruining a respectable opponent and does not enjoy thinking that he and hashirama could be brothers-in-law and there could be adorable babies with crazy strong chakra if only both clans would stop massacring each other but if they were born now people would be insulting to them and see them as despicable inferior bastards. even though objectively there’s no way they wouldn’t be handsome and powerful and smart.

(he would forbid bowlcuts though. on principle.) (oh fuck he’s starting to visualize the babies.)

as expected, the council meeting is a shitshow.

it takes a week before madara manages to force in that he is TELLING hashirama they have his brother and why and inviting the senju into the discussion on what should be done, and in the meantime nobody has even given tobirama any baby-be-gone because madara can trust nobody to administer it without any extra poison or at stupid “just to be sure” dosages. it does not help the hormonal imprinting. they’ve tried not to sleep in his nest, just beside his nest but the room is not big and. hghghghfgh.

anyway madara catches tobirama having a Moment over losing his babies (which are at this point not even a certainty and still well into the spontaneous abortion stage of pregnancy) and cannot help awkwardly petting his hair or something. and then tobirama angrily starts ranting over how he does not want babies, he’s not at any stage of life appropriate for babies, they would have a shit life at his place and if they stayed with the uchihas he couldn’t even check on them so make sure they were doing well and he would go crazy not being allowed to live with them but he would go crazy being forced to leave his clan to be a fucking war prize of a breeding bitch and anyway he doesn’t even know anything about all the things that can go wrong with a sharingan or how to use it so he couldn’t even teach them properly and. and, fuck this.

madara pets him and doesn’t say anything. izuna pretends he wasn’t listening through the door.

when the reply from hashirama comes it is very not super happy. he and madara meet in secret and hashirama really wants to demand his brother back but knows just as well how badly that would go.

he says if he thought tobi would be treated fairly and eventually welcomed he would offer a marriage, but considering what madara is telling him about the threats of rape and forcible breeding they are not where he can feel alright letting his brother live at the uchiha compound with no way out.

but also if he loses the pregnancy it’s extremely likely the best exchange they get will be tobirama alive but with his tendons cut, or otherwise too maimed to return to ninja life. it’s vanishingly unlikely the uchiha council would accept any monetary recompense for freeing the most lethal of all Senju to go right back to killing them.

they go back home to think on it some more.

meanwhile izuna has been guarding a morose and very quiet tobirama and hated it so much he provoked him into a verbal fight. probably pulled out some really cruel shit to make him react because fatalistic is not something he likes seeing on tobi’s face but he hates that he even gives a fuck. anyway it goes mean, but then it goes into kissing and probably some frantic bitey sex.

madara comes home and they’re still half-naked and lying together, even though the afterglow was over a while ago. they just... don’t want to separate. not yet.

madara like: ..................... you didn’t.

he’s super angry at them but mostly izuna because what the fuck are you doing, getting more attached. tobirama manages to derail him asking about hashirama, which, he didn’t tell tobi he was meeting hashi but tobi’s got a nose thanks.

anyway izuna is exiled from the room that night. madara sits in his usual place to stand guard but tobirama doesn’t fall asleep. just kinda... very unhappy and his omega being unhappy is obviously a failure and it’s hard to handle.

so they talk about shogi. philosophy. whatever. distractions. eventually tobi sleeps and madara managed not to get any more personal, good job.

... so then he ruminates all of the rest of the night. next morning council members show up as a stone-faced group to deliver the baby-b-gone, intending to sit and watch tobirama down it, like some hybrid tea ceremony/execution.

Tobi takes his place on the cushion madara (very stone-faced because he does NOT like being gotten around like that) signaled izuna to give him, takes the cup of tea with an absolutely frozen face, and madara is like.

would you sign a contract to be our concubine, to legitimize them.

everyone: o_o

madara: filed at the daimyo’s court and sent to every other clan out there so it’s triple binding and you can’t run away with our heirs, of course.

everyone: O.O ?? and izuna 0_0!!

madara: and while you would spend the last two months here, with a few senju assistants, you’d be allowed to spend the earlier months of your pregnancy at the senju compound, provided they also host a squad of uchiha soldiers and handmaids/midwives to ensure the safety and health of our heirs. (That part is absolutely non-negotiable.)

everyone: !!! DDDDDD:<

izuna: ;___; ??? ;;____;; ??????

tobi: o___o what... the entire fuck...

madara: *sips his own tea* U.U

tobi: ... this is a way to force us all to get desensitized to each other and have peace isn‘t it

madara: >:3c

anyway it’s CHAOS but eventually they manage to chase out the council people and retire for the night. izuna ends up in tobi’s nest wrapped around his back, still looking kind of shell-shocked. tobirama stares at madara like he’s trying to read his mind. madara is smug as fuck. but he won’t get into his nest if he’s not invited, he’s not rude.

tobi: how do you plan to handle... after they’re born.

madara: cease-fire as long as they’re not weaned. they stay at the uchiha compound always. you can choose wet nurses and a guard squad from either clan for when you have to go back and forth, plus if there’s more than three babes it’ll be hard on us without any outside help anyway. by the time they’re two or three people will be used to the détente and we can shoot for something more permanent.

tobi: ... and they’ll... really be your heirs.

madara: if they’re legally recognized firstborns then why would they not? the sharingan is dominant. i admit it might be weird to have uchihas with white hair, but we’ve got some light brown and reddish brown in the lower houses already anyway...

tobi, still reeling but starting to want to laugh a bit: oh, chimerism runs in my fathers’ line, so they might only have it partly white. (izuna, dazed: Piebald uchihas.) what do we do if they have the mokuton?

madara: .. that... is another clusterfuck let’s not borrow trouble from the nearest kami with a grudge, we have upset enough shrines this month.

izuna meanwhile is still plastered against tobi’s back and totally not fighting tears or anything. he gets to... keep tobi? kind of. keep him around, not caged but. around and. hhhhh. !!?!?. babies. extremely superior babies. more family.

tobi: ... and will you want to keep access to me as... ah... your concubine.

madara: *blink* oh huh. i understand that you won’t want to be forced to, ah, share your bed with us, but it’s probably not going to be added in the contract that you have to provide us with another set of heirs, since the council is going to be raging to get us married to a full-blood uchiha set and have some pure-blooded surety heirs, but considering that would endanger our firstborns in case some extremists decide to take it into their own hands--

tobi, now officially laughing at him: madara, what i meant is: i can’t get any more pregnant than i am now. Do you want to fuck?

madara: ... #o_o#

(madara does want to fuck.)

[maria-scribbles]

loyalty’s all i got | part two

three years ago, you had it all: great friends, good grades, and an almost perfect relationship with your boyfriend, jj. it all came crashing down when your mom relocated your family to california for work and you were forced to trade the outer banks for malibu, leaving your broken heart behind in the place you were just starting to think of as home. now you're back in town for college and to pick up the pieces, hoping to make things right again with your friends and the boy you never stopped loving.

word count: 8.6k+

ship: jj maybank x female!reader, pogue friendship

warnings n stuff: angst angst angst all around (with a happy ending tho!!), the reader being a v. sad girl, mentions of anxiety/depression, failed long distance relationship, drifting apart, self-inflicted loneliness/isolation, the classic trope of 'they broke up but they're still in love with each other' that gives me feels, swearing (it's not my writing unless someone says 'fuck' at least once), reconciliation/mended relationships, traditional cheesy rom-com rain scene 'cause i'm a Dramatic Hoe™

a/n: and here's the second and final part of this looooong two-shot! thank you all so much for reading and i hope you enjoy the finale even though i low key kind of hate it 🙃. fun fact: surfrider beach is a real place in malibu known for its great waves :) also i apologize for how long this took to post, i dropped my laptop and the screen broke so i had to wait for it to get fixed lmao. unbetaed as usual, any mistakes are my b. 

~masterlist~

part two: like a ghost that no one knew

When you said goodbye to your friends three years ago, you should've known things would never be the same again. You were sixteen, still so young and naïve and full of an almost childlike hope that kept you from seeing the obvious: life wasn't fair. Sometimes, you could be holding all the right cards and still lose the game.

It should've been easy. You had a video chat schedule already figured out, promises of daily texts and Snapchats, a boyfriend willing -enthusiastically willing, in fact- to go long distance and make it work no matter what 'cause you both agreed that what you had was something worth fighting for. You and your friends had weathered many storms together, what was one more? It could've been easy but you underestimated just how cruel California would be.

You traded one coast for the other and watched the sun set over the Pacific alone when you would've given anything to watch it rise over the Atlantic with your friends. It hurt to surf solo but you did it anyway, even though it felt like a damn sucker punch each time you caught yourself scanning the sand for JJ and his proud smile when you successfully caught bigger and bigger waves at Surfrider Beach. 

Long distance was hard. You had days where all you wanted to do was lay on your bed for hours, safely curled up in his arms as he ran his fingers through your hair but you had to settle for his voice over the phone and one of his shirts from your closet instead. You missed everything about him: his pretty eyes that looked like the clearest ocean, the cheeky grin he'd send your way after making a stupid joke that had you affectionately rolling your eyes in exasperation, that adorable flush that spread across his face without fail each and every time you said you loved him. You longed for his constant affection; the way he always wanted to keep you close somehow, his arm around your shoulders, hand in your back pocket, or fingers entwined with yours; how he could never go a day without kissing you. Being apart was nothing short of torture.

"I fucking miss you." He said late one night during a rare FaceTime session -his phone was a piece of shit so he had to 'borrow' John B's whenever he could- and you smiled despite the knife twisting itself deeper and deeper into your heart as you played with the fraying sleeve of his old sweatshirt you wore. 

"I fucking miss you more, J." You whispered back, giggling quietly when he scrunched up his nose in playful skepticism. 

"Yeah, I don't think so, babe. There's no way." 

"Yes, way!"

Although it hurt like hell, you imagined being tangled up with him in the hammock hanging in the Chateau's yard under the North Carolina sky -the light from the moon would turn his blond hair a pale silver as he grinned down at you and cupped your cheek in his hand, closing that final distance between you for a kiss that'd fuel the fire racing through your veins- and you let that fleeting happiness carry you through the night, long after you said goodbye. You fell asleep with your phone in your hand, unaware that your mother had been listening from the other side of your closed door.

You'd been distant from her and your dad in the months since the move, obviously going out of your way to avoid them both by spending all your spare time surfing at the beach, coming home well past sunset and heading straight to your room without a word. They'd taught you forgiveness wasn't something to be given willingly -it had to be earned- and since neither of them had done anything worthy to deserve an absolution, you simply pretended they didn't exist and let yourself stew in your justified anger.

Until the morning after your video date with JJ, they'd wisely given you your space so you were pretty blind sighted to find them both waiting for you at the dining room table, one of your dad's famous cinnamon rolls on a plate set in front of your usual chair. You paused in the middle of tying one of your boyfriend's worn bandanas in your hair before abruptly continuing toward the front door, acting like you didn't see the hopeful looks on their faces that made guilt slowly start to burrow its way into your chest. 

"Y/N, wait," Your dad sprung from his seat and reached his hand out toward your elbow, his face falling when you instantly pulled back and crossed your arms. "Please, let's just talk for a second."

"I'm gonna be late for the bus," You lied and tried for the door again, sighing in frustration when he blocked your path and ushered you toward the table where your mom was sitting, biting her thumbnail. The guilt burrowed deeper: you thought she kicked that habit years ago but there she was, chewing her nail to shreds and it was all because of you (the empty satisfaction you felt knowing you were the cause of her stress made you hate yourself just a little more.).

"Jellybean, don't worry about that. I'll drive you." 

You bristled at the old nickname but sat in the chair your dad pulled out for you anyway. The smell of the cinnamon roll he pushed your way made your mouth water but you refused to eat and kept your eyes down as you played with the stack of bracelets adorning your wrist. "You wanted to talk?" You asked, deciding to just rip the band-aid off all at once 'cause knowing your mom when she was anxious and your dad being allergic to any type of confrontation, you'd have sat there all day until one of them worked up the courage to speak.

"Talk, right." Bill said with a nervous chuckle, shaking his head as he took a seat and swiped his own cinnamon roll from the pan in the middle of the table. "Uh, how are you?"

"Are you serious right now?" You asked incredulously, looking up from your lap with a raised eyebrow. "All this for 'how are you?'" 

"How would we know?" Your mom finally spoke up as she pulled her ruined nail from her mouth, only to start instantly drumming her fingers on the table. "You're always holed up in your room or at the beach, Y/N. You never talk to us anymore."

You rolled your eyes before fixing her with a deadpan stare. "Hmm, I wonder why."

"Honey, you know I'm sorry-"

"Don't, okay? Just don't." You swallowed thickly and dumped the cinnamon roll back into the pan, blinking away the awful burning pressure building behind your eyes. "I can't listen to some half-assed apology that you don't mean!"

"Y/N, we are sorry. Everything's gonna get better, just give it time." Your dad's reply was muffled by a mouthful of pastry and any other time, you'd usually be laughing at his chipmunk cheeks but instead you just stared back down at your hands again, lip quivering as you tried and failed to hold yourself together. You would not cry. You would not cry. You would not-

"Please, honey." Your mom tentatively reached out one hand like she was approaching a wounded animal, her voice so soft you could barely hear it above the rush of blood in your ears. "It hurts us to see you like this-"

Oh, fuck this shit.

"You're hurt?! Are you kidding me?" Your chair scraped along the tile as you rocketed to your feet, vision blurring when the dam finally broke. "You promised we wouldn't move again until after I graduated and you broke that promise. I let myself make friends for once in my goddamn life -I fucking fell in love, Mom! I fell in love with the most amazing boy who, by some miracle loves me, too despite me being a...a complete loser!" You were rambling now but you couldn't find it in yourself to care about or stop the words flying from your mouth. 

"God, I was happy -so, so disgustingly happy it kind of scared me, okay?" You laughed bitterly and roughly wiped the tears from your cheeks, only to have more immediately take their place. "And you didn't even stop to think before you took it all away from me! So don't even talk to me about being hurt 'cause you have no fucking idea!"

Your dad was frozen, eyes the same color as your own blown impossibly wide in the middle of another bite of cinnamon roll while your mom, two tears streaking perfect twin tracks down her cheeks, looked at you like you'd just told her the world was ending -to her, it just might've been but to you, it already had. Neither of them said another word as you snatched your backpack off the couch and stormed from the house, slamming the door behind you.

Halfway to the bus stop, you decided school just wasn't in the cards that day and doubled back, hiding behind the shed in your backyard until your tears had run dry and both of your parents left -Rebekah to the hospital, Bill to wherever he went while you were in class- before heading inside to change into your rash vest and grab your board. Despite it being early Friday morning, Surfrider Beach was full of life and you welcomed the hustle and bustle as you turned off your phone and buried it at the bottom of your bag, leaving your problems behind on the sand. 

You spent the whole day at the beach, blissfully alone and free to do what you wanted, until the sun dipped low in the sky and you were too exhausted to even think about anything but dragging yourself home so you could pass the fuck out. You caught one final wave before heading back to shore, waving goodbye to the group of other kids you'd surfed with all day (the one thing you loved about California: everyone was so chill) and trudged through the sand toward your things where, just as you expected, your sister sat on your towel, clad in a baggy UCLA long-sleeve with her phone in hand. 

"Bitch, you killed it out there!" She looked up as you dropped your board to the ground and sat down heavily beside her, slipping an old Kildare County High School sweatshirt -the first one you ever 'borrowed' from your boyfriend, much to his delight- over your head. "I mean, look at you go!"

You leaned closer to watch the video she took, the barest hint of a smile on your face when you watched yourself perform a near perfect cutback on the screen. "That's 'cause I had the best teacher." 

Daisy tagged you and posted it to Instagram before you could protest, then tossed the phone back into her bag and turned to you with a forced cheerfulness that kind of made you want to smack her. "So..."

"Mom and Dad sent you to clean up their mess." You finished quietly, tucking your knees to your chest and wrapping your arms around them as your sister sighed dramatically and offered a sympathetic wince. 

"As always." She copied your position and you both stared out at the sun sinking over the water, its fading rays turning the sky brilliant shades of orange and pink. It was typical of your parents to send Daisy after you when you were upset -after all, you'd both been each other's only friend for over half your lives- and normally, you'd be glad to see your sister's friendly face instead of your mom's or dad's. That evening, though? All you felt was...disappointment.

"Guess they really don't give a shit about me." You mumbled under your breath, half-hoping Daisy didn't hear you but from the way she snapped her head in your direction, you didn't get your wish.

"Y/N, that's not it. They're just..."

"Just what? Pretending that they didn't stab me in the back? Acting like everything's all hunky-dory and they actually cared about my feelings?" 

You hastily wiped at your face when your sister silently looped an arm around your shoulders and tucked you against her side, her fingers running soothingly through the ends of your damp hair as you vented all of your frustrations -everything you'd kept locked deep inside your heart- until your voice was hoarse and the sun had long disappeared from the horizon and you had no tears left to cry.

"You have no idea what it's like, being so lonely it hurts to breathe. It hurts knowing Mom and Dad have each other and you have Daniel and I'm alone all the time." You lifted your head from her shoulder and rubbed your red eyes with your sleeve. "Worst part is, they just keep acting like I'll wake up one day and magically be okay and everything'll be all sunshine and rainbows again." 

"First off, I wanna say that I'm sorry for not making more time for you. I knew you were struggling and I'm a terrible big sister for not being here for you like I should have," You squeezed Daisy's other hand in thanks as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, her voice soft and steady like the waves crashing against the shore. "Second, I definitely don't think Mom and Dad are handling this the way they should, but I think they're trying in the only way they know how. That should count for something, right?"

You sighed and tugged the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands. "I guess, but they haven't even tried to see where I'm coming from and they don't get that I'm not the only one they hurt. If I have to hear one more half-assed apology, I'm gonna lose my shit. Again."

"I'm not saying you have to forgive them right away 'cause I sure as hell wouldn't until they say they're sorry and mean it. But..." She said, pulling you to your feet and shaking the sand from the towel you were sitting on, "you shouldn't keep shutting them out, okay? It's not healthy."

You tucked your board under your arm as Daisy grabbed your bag and swung it onto her shoulder before you both started walking toward the parking lot. "What if I'm never ready to forgive them?"

"That's a question I don't have the answer to." She said with a shrug. "You've gotta figure that one out for yourself."

So you followed your sister's advice. You were civil and gradually, your relationship with your parents improved until you could stand to be in the same room as them and even carry on a short conversation, even though you knew you'd probably never be able to fully trust them again. You caught them exchanging glances you could only describe as wounded when you often turned down their invitations to go to the movies or get ice cream or other things you used to love doing when you were younger but for the most part, they took it in stride and you were grateful for their little efforts. Forgiveness wasn't in the cards quite yet but with each passing day, you felt the icy wall around your heart slowly start to melt away.

But every time you thought you were taking one step forward, life pushed you two steps back. Just when you were getting things back on track with your family, the train went flying off the rails when it came to your friends and it was all your fault.

It wasn't like you didn't try -God, did you try- to keep yourself from falling back into old habits but Malibu just had a way of bringing out the absolute worst in you. Your old self, the girl who kept to herself and pushed everyone away, someone you thought you buried in the deepest grave, slowly came back from the dead with a vengeance little by little, so subtly you didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. 

One missed phone call turned into two, texts went unanswered for days or not at all, FaceTime sessions happened less and less. The last video chat had been with Kiara and it ended terribly, after you blew up at her for mending her friendship with Sarah Cameron in the near two years since you'd been gone, spitting words you couldn't quite remember -something along the lines of 'didn't take you too long to replace me, huh' and calling the blonde girl a 'heinous bitch'- but knew you regretted with everything you had and hanging up before she had a chance to explain. You couldn't even recall the last time you talked to Pope or John B aside from the occasional Snapchat and your daily calls with JJ had turned to once a week, if you were lucky.

He was trying, you could tell, and so were you but the deck was stacked against you and you were never very good at cards, anyway. It hurt to try, it hurt not to try, everything just hurt. Nearly two years apart had done their damage and coupled with your debilitating fear of being forgotten that clawed at your chest like a rabid dog, your relationship was on unstable ground and for the first time in almost four years, you were thinking about the end. It wasn't like you didn't love him anymore (holy shit, were you still completely head over heels in love). In fact, you loved him so much you realized that he could do so, so much better than you and the thought rested heavy and bittersweet on your mind, lurking in the shadows until you were ready to bring it to light.

It happened on New Year's Eve. Alone in your room, your hands shook as you answered JJ's call at midnight, his voice tired and a little hoarse from celebrating the new year three hours earlier on the opposite coast and you nearly started crying right then and there when you replied with a shaky "I think we need to talk."

"Babe, what's wrong?"

You took a deep breath and said quietly, "Everything."

"Talk to me." The pure concern in those three words nearly convinced you to call it off, to tell him to forget you said anything and that you were fine, everything was just fine but deep down, you knew you couldn't.

"I've been thinking about us and I...I just think that you deserve better than me. Someone who can actually be there for you when you need her and hold you when your dad's an asshole and see you every day. Someone who can laugh at your silly jokes and share a joint with you and clean you up when you get into fights defending your friends-"

"Babe, what are you talking about? That girl is you."

"Maybe I was but I'm not anymore and I don't think I have been since I left. I just can't be the girl you want, I can't be the girl you deserve, J -I'm a total fucking mess and you can do so, so much better than me."

"Y/N."

You didn't know you were crying until you heard the broken way he breathed your name and salt water dripped from your chin onto the bracelet around your wrist. 

"...are you breaking up with me?" His voice was impossibly small, the quietest you'd ever heard it and the exact moment your battered heart shattered into pieces was when you realized he didn't even put up a fight. 

"I think so." The words tore through you like a gunshot as you cried, curling into yourself on the bed in an effort to ward off the worst pain you'd ever felt in your life and you wondered if it was possible to die from a wound that wasn't even physical. 

He was quiet for a long time, so long you thought he hung up without you noticing through your tears, until he sniffed on the other end of the line.

"Guess we had a pretty good run, huh?" He asked with a watery chuckle and you found yourself giving a tiny, shuddering giggle in response -God, even when you were breaking his heart he still managed to make you laugh.

"The best, baby." The pet name slipped out like second nature and you winced, hastily trying to cover your mistake with an awkward cough but from the sharp breath you heard him take, he'd heard it anyway.

("I'm sorry," you said, and it stood as an apology for more than just your slip-up.)

"I love you, Y/N. Probably always will."

"I'll never stop loving you, JJ. That's a promise."

You let yourself believe him as you laid there bleeding from a gash you couldn't see, a wound you knew would never heal, and you hoped he let himself believe you, too, even when you ended the call without another word and threw your phone away from you, not bothering to see where it landed. The sound of your heavy, broken sobs filled the room and you didn't even mind when your mom, who you knew had been listening from the other side of your closed door like always, barged in and took you into her arms, stroking your hair as you cried into her lap.

If you were supposed to avoid getting hurt by leaving first, why did it feel like everything in you was broken? If you were making the right choice, why did it feel so wrong? You didn't have the answers and no matter how hard you searched, you knew you'd ever find them.  

So you tried to stay busy. You joined the surf club at school, got a part-time job at the local aquarium, did anything you could to distract yourself from the hurt and the guilt and the way getting out of bed every morning was the hardest thing to do. Surf club introduced you to Mackenzie, the one girl who was more ostracized at school -an even richer version of the kook academy you hated -than you, her for being freakishly tall and you for your East Coast attitude, and the two of you became fast, if reluctant friends. Mack didn't try to stitch the gaping hole in your heart caused by your absent friends but she numbed the pain just enough to make it bearable and you were grateful for her calm, steady presence at your side, even as you both tried to keep each other at arm's length.  

Later, you found out she was just like you, friendless and awkward with no self-esteem and a tendency to push people away, and that just cemented your friendship through the summer and your final year of high school.

Mack told you all about her life, growing up with no siblings, having height that she never learned to deal with, and a debilitating social anxiety that made making friends near impossible, and in turn you told her about how you hopped from town to town on your mother's whims, the wonderful friends you let slip away, and the beautiful boyfriend you loved enough to let go, and you both cried together for the lives you could've led.

"You two looked so happy," She said during the first sleepover you hosted as she held one of the many picture frames littering your dresser, her lips turned upwards in a small smile.

You gently took the frame from her hands and ran your fingers over the grinning face of your ex-boyfriend, his arms wrapped around your shoulders as your painted lips planted a deep red kiss on his cheek, and the wave of longing washing over you was almost strong enough to bring you to your knees. "It was the happiest I've ever been."

"Do you miss him?"

"So much it hurts."

i miss you.

i'm so sorry.

i still love you.

You'd typed and erased those texts every day but never mustered the courage to hit send and you couldn't decide if that was a blessing in disguise or the worst possible curse. Of course you still loved JJ: you promised you would and even if you didn't, you couldn't stop if you tried. He was your first love, the boy you so willingly gave your whole heart and then some; you still kept his ring on your thumb -the one he gave you at the airport the day you left- and his bracelet around your wrist, his bandanas in your hair and his face in your dreams and you knew you always would.

Before you could blink, your eighteenth birthday flew by and graduation was upon you.

You thought the second you were done with high school you'd be gone, heading straight back to the Outer Banks and the life you left behind but you found yourself stalling on sending in an application to UNC -Chapel Hill until you missed the deadline for the fall semester. On the outside, you made up a semi-legit excuse about getting your basic courses done at a community college to save money but deep down you really knew why you procrastinated: you were terrified to go back. Ever since your break up with JJ, you hadn't spoken to him or any of your old friends other than the obligatory birthday wishes on Facebook and you wondered if the damage you'd done over the years was too much to come back from, even as you tried to work up the courage to find out for sure.

Another year passed: in between earning college credits, you and Daisy took a sister's trip to Disneyland, Mack asked you to tag along on a jaunt up the coast to San Francisco to see Alcatraz, your parents celebrated their 25th wedding anniversary (your gift was long-overdue forgiveness and they said it was the greatest thing you possibly could've given them). When the time came, you and Mack both sent out your applications to UNC -you for biology, her for chemistry- and the myriad of emotions you felt when you got in was nothing short of dizzying. The old you was terrified, screaming at you to rip up the letter and join your sister at UCLA instead of opening old wounds but the hopeful you, the girl who lived without fear, the girl who fell in love and let herself be loved, screamed louder.

And so you killed the old you once again, burying her even deeper than the last time in a locked chest and throwing the key as far as you could out into the Pacific where you knew you'd never find it. You clutched your acceptance letter close to your chest and took a step east, away from California and toward the place where your broken heart still rested, scattered in pieces across the sand.

Settling in at UNC was surprisingly easy. You and Mack already clicked pretty well as friends so making the transition to roommates was natural and, dare you say it, even a little fun and the two of you quickly fell into a comfortable routine in your tiny apartment off campus in Chapel Hill. Comfortable and yet...that happiness you once felt all those years ago was missing from your life and you found yourself just as restless as you were in Malibu. While you knew exactly what you needed to do, that fear kept rearing its ugly head in the back of your mind, poisoning your thoughts: what if they wouldn't be happy to see you, what if they forgot about you, what if they hated you? What if he hated you?

It was terrifying, picturing yourself turning up at the Chateau with a hopeful smile only to have the door slammed right in your face. Deep down, you knew they'd never do that to you no matter how badly you'd hurt them but when you'd spent your whole life expecting the worst, taking a leap of faith wasn't an easy feat -something Mack just couldn't wrap her head around.

"I don't get it."

You glanced up from where you were lounging on your bed, flipping through your biology notes in preparation for your lab exam the next morning and shot your roommate a confused look. "Get what?”

Mack sat at your desk, her own notebooks lying ignored as she spun the chair around to face you, arms crossed. "Why you haven't hopped on that ferry to go get your man yet!"

You froze for a moment too long before offering a half-hearted shrug as you fiddled with the beads at the end of your bracelet. "It's not that easy. He probably wants nothing to do with me and I don't blame him."

"How do you know? You haven't talked to JJ in over a year, right?" At your tight nod, she continued, "What if he's just like you-"

"Depressed?"

Mack fixed you with a flat, unamused look. "Still in love, dumbass."

You scoffed and propped your chin in your hand as you glanced back down at your study guide, trying not to latch onto that little thought -hope and pain all rolled into one- that sparked to life at her words. He'd said he would probably always love you that New Year's Eve and back then you'd let yourself believe him but now, you weren't so sure. "Yeah, right. No way he's still...still in love with me after I broke his heart."

"Maybe he is, maybe he isn't," Your roommate said with a shrug, spinning around on the chair to grab her things. "You'll never know if you don't get over there, track his fine ass down, and talk to him."

You stared down at your notes without actually seeing anything, the slanted letters of your handwriting blurring before your eyes as the other girl flipped her chemistry book closed and stood, shooting you an warm smile that you didn't see. 

"Listen, Y/N, you're my best friend and I want to see you happy more than anything but I can't take that jump for you. Yeah, it's scary and nerve wracking and you might end up hurt worse than before, so what? That's just...life."

Mack left after that, crossing the apartment to her room so she could get ready for a date with a girl from her psych class, leaving you alone with tears on your face and a million thoughts in your head, all of them terrifying and exciting and oh so loud.

She was right, of course -Mack always knew the right thing to say- and as you stared down at the bracelets on your wrists and the ring on your thumb, the pictures on your phone and the too-big shirt hanging off one shoulder, you realized sitting around moping wasn't gonna solve anything; if you wanted your happiness, your friends, the love of your life back, you needed to step up and fight for them with everything you had. And so you wiped the tears from your cheeks and walked to the cliff's edge with your head held high, ready for the fall and whatever came with it. You were ready to fix your mistakes, no matter how badly it might hurt.

Still, you couldn't do it all on your own. You needed some help to make things right again and while you knew just who to ask, you weren't quite sure if they'd be willing to lend a hand. Desperate times called for desperate measures though and you penned a good old-fashioned letter, feeling like a heroine in a Jane Austen novel as you poured all your thoughts -your dreams, wishes, hopes- onto a piece of paper in bold blue ink and sent it off to its destination on Figure 8, your Hail Mary for a happy ending sealed up neatly in a single envelope.

Mack, bless her heart, did her best to keep your spirits up as you waited on a response but even her ever reassuring presence couldn't keep you from worrying as one week passed by, then two. Halfway through the third you'd almost given up, already wracking your brain for another way to make your plan work when your phone chimed with a text from an unknown number.

i'll help you

And just like that, the moment you'd been waiting for was finally within your reach; you told your parents not to expect you for Thanksgiving break, called your sister for a much needed pep talk, and started counting down the days until you'd see your friends again, for better or worse.

When you left the Outer Banks three years ago, it was sunny. You were sixteen, young and in love and scared about the future.

When you returned, it was in the middle of a storm. You were nineteen, a little bit older but no less in love and definitely still scared about what was waiting for you at the end of the road.

Rain pounded against the roof of Sarah Cameron's SUV as she drove away from the docks and toward the Chateau, her fingers tapping along to the music playing quietly through the radio. You sat in the passenger seat, soaked to the bone from your ferry ride from the mainland and shaking like a leaf despite the towel wrapped around your shoulders and the warm air flowing from the car's vents.

"Thanks for coming to get me," You said, wincing at the awkward lilt of your voice echoing in the small space as you spun JJ's ring around your thumb and stared out the windshield at the familiar sights streaking by in blurred shades of green and brown. Being back opened a Pandora's box of emotions in your head, both good and bad, and instead of trying to sort them out, you let them bounce around in your brain like a pinball machine and concentrated on methodically twirling the warm metal ring in circles on your finger.

Sarah briefly glanced away from the road to shoot you a small smile, her kind eyes softening at your visible nervousness. "Not gonna lie, I was pretty sure you hated me so when I got your letter it kinda...threw me for a loop. Sorry it took me so long to reply."

You wished the heated leather seat would swallow you whole as you winced again and wrapped the towel tighter around your shoulders. "For the longest time, I thought I did hate you but I realized I was just...scared of losing my friends and I took it out on you. You didn't deserve to be labeled the villain in my story when I was the one, um, sabotaging myself, I guess." You took a deep breath and picked at a loose thread tickling your arm. "And I'm really, really grateful for your help."

It was more than you wanted to admit out loud -nearly the same words were written in the letter peeking out from the center console of the car- but at the same time, you knew it was what needed to be said and from the way the blonde girl's fingers stopped tapping against the steering wheel, she knew she needed to hear it. At a red light, she quickly tapped out a text on her phone before tossing in back into her bag with another tiny grin in your direction.

"Happy to help. For what it's worth, I'm so sorry if I made you feel like you were being replaced, I never intended to hurt you or steal your friends or...or, I don't know, usurp-" 

"Sarah, stop. Please," You held up a hand to cut off her apology and offered her a self-deprecating smile. "I'm the one who's sorry. I let my...jealousy get the best of me and I feel so bad about all the shit I said 'cause that wasn't fair to you at all and I hope you can forgive me-"

"Y/N, there's nothing to forgive! We all say stupid shit when we're mad -trust me, I know." She interrupted with a bubbly, contagious giggle that seemed to scare away the gloomy storm clouds gathered over your head for a moment in time. "But I was never pissed at you, ever. I just want you to know that."

Stunned, you settled deeper into the seat and started playing with your ring again as she kept driving on, unbothered by your lack of response. You felt like you were thirteen again, back when Sarah and Kiara were your only friends, before the birthday disaster and the whole pogue versus kook feud that got completely out of hand; it felt...nice and you found yourself hoping that the blonde girl would still want to be your friend again, no matter what the others thought about your sudden return. 

"Thank you."

Sarah gave no indication she heard your quiet confession of gratitude but from the way you watched her smile grow out of the corner of your eye, you knew she did. The rest of the drive passed in companionable silence as you retreated into your own thoughts, your nerves getting worse and worse the closer you got to your destination.

You took a deep breath and let it out slowly through your nose, feeling like your heart was trying to beat its way through your rib cage. You hadn't been this anxious in a long, long time, so long you almost forgot how much you hated the tightness in your chest, how your palms would start to sweat, the way you'd chew the inside of your cheek until you tasted blood on your tongue. By the time Sarah pulled into an open spot beside the achingly familiar Volkswagen parked in front of the Chateau, you were surprised you were still able to breathe.

The sight of the tiny house, one you spent so many carefree days and beautiful nights in alongside your friends, standing virtually unchanged in front of you was like a shot to the heart and your hands, curled into fists on your lap, began to shake without warning. Shit, you were a godforsaken mess; how the hell were you supposed to do this without having a mental breakdown?

"I'm so scared."

The whispered words, barely audible over the torrential rain against the roof, slipped from your mouth before you could stop them and Sarah slowly reached one hand over to give your trembling wrist a reassuring squeeze, the corners of her mouth curled upward in a slight smile.

"Don't be. They're gonna be so happy to see you!"

You turned to look at her, eyebrows knit together in disbelief. "How are you so sure they still care about me?"

"I'm sure 'cause I've seen it. My God, if only you could've heard all the times they talked about you -'I wish Y/N was here,' 'remember that time with Y/N,' hell, just straight 'I miss Y/N so fucking much,'" She said bluntly and shifted in the driver's seat to face you head on, smiling wider at the thunderstruck look on your face. "Pretty sure I haven't gone a week without JJ saying that last one at least once." 

"I thought..." You paused, tongue darting out to run over your dry lips as you tried to put your jumbled feelings into words, "I thought he'd hate me -I mean, after all I've done, you think he still..."

"Loves you? Are you kidding?" Her reply was so enthusiastic it was hard not to believe her as she went on, her words like sunshine brightening the darkest corners of your mind. "He's still head over heels, I've never seen him even look at another girl in three damn years. You know he still wears your necklace, the one with the silver star? Kie told me all about it."

"I-I didn't." You remembered giving it to him the day you left, managing a shaky smile through your tears as you carefully clasped it around his neck, your fingers running over his skin as you settled the charm perfectly alongside that little shark tooth you'd grown to love.

('Be careful with this, baby. It's my favorite.' You had said, crying harder when he'd taken off one of his rings and slipped it onto your thumb.

'Well, this one's my favorite so take good care of it, okay?' His voice had been light but his eyes were heavy with unspoken words that you'd heard loud and clear because you knew your gaze said the exact same things.

don't let me go

don't break my heart

don't stop loving me)

You coughed to disguise the fat tears that started rolling down your face, quickly wiping them away with your sleeve but the blonde girl wasn't fooled as she gave your hand another friendly squeeze.

"Come on, they're probably wondering what's taking me so long," She sent a conspiratorial wink your way and grabbed her bag from the center console. "I told them I was picking up some pizzas but I have a funny feeling they won't be too pissed that I lied."

With a desperate grip on the strap of your backpack and your heart racing, you trailed behind Sarah through the rain to the front porch. 

"Ready?" She glanced back where you lingered at the top of the stairs, anxiously shuffling from foot to foot, and shot you a smile that did little to calm your nerves. "Just wait here!"

She knocked on the door before you could reply and yelled loud enough to be heard over the pouring rain, "Hey, it's me! Can somebody get the door? My hands are kinda full."

"Got it!"

Your bag slipped from your fingers and fell onto the porch with a loud thump at the sound of the voice floating through the open windows, a voice you heard nearly every night as you slept, in your dreams of a future you wanted with everything you had. You knew it better than your knew your own, knew every pitch and tone and lilt; quiet and raspy in the mornings when you woke up in each other's arms, loud and carefree during long days spent under the golden sun with the rest of your friends, soft and warm and laid bare at night when he showed how much he loved you with more than just words.

Sarah gave you an enthusiastic thumbs up before stepping to the side just as the door opened and you suddenly found yourself struggling to breathe as you stared into the wide blue eyes of your ex-boyfriend. JJ stared right back, one of the hands you used to hold clenched so tight around the doorknob his knuckles were white, the lips you used to kiss parted in surprise, the blond hair you used to run your fingers through falling onto his forehead like always and the familiar, beautiful sight of him standing close enough to touch made your knees weak.

"You're not pizza."

It was such a JJ thing to say and you didn't know whether to laugh or cry as you swallowed thickly and shook your head. "Sorry to disappoint you."

"I'm not."

"Oh."

Hope flared white hot in your chest at his words but it quickly started to fade, replaced by fear when he made no move toward you, his fingers still gripping tight to the door, and you felt your face start to heat in embarrassment as Sarah looked back and forth between the two of you like she was watching a tennis match. 

God, you were so stupid. What did you expect would happen, showing up out of the blue after over a year of no contact? Everything would fall into place again with just one long, heavy look? Believing it could be that easy turned you into a complete and total fool, tongue-tied and insecure and weak.

"Yo, what's the hold up?" John B's voice asked from inside the house and Sarah leaned down to call through the open window, "Come out here and find out!"

A wave of dizziness hit you like a truck and you took a sudden step back toward the stairs, arms wrapping around your stomach as it twisted itself into knots. "I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have come. This was a mistake." You didn't notice the stricken look that crossed JJ's face or the three familiar, stunned expressions that appeared behind him in the darkened doorway before turning away and stumbling off the porch toward the road, leaving your bag behind and you definitely didn't notice how you barely made it off the bottom stair before a set of footsteps hastily gave chase. 

"It wasn't a mistake, Y/N!" JJ's desperate voice stopped you in your tracks, halfway across the yard with more than just rain running down your face. "Not to me, never to me."

His soft touch on your wrist sent shockwaves through your body and you instantly became putty in his hands, letting him turn you around without a fight to face him, watching in fascination as the downpour started to darken his gray shirt and flatten his hair against his forehead. Three years hadn't changed much about him -he was a little taller, hair a little longer, the muscles in his arms a little more defined- and when you met his wide-eyed gaze, beads of rain dripping from his long eyelashes like diamonds, you wondered if he was thinking about the differences time created between the younger you of the past and the you of the right now, too.

"Oh." You repeated dumbly, struggling for something, anything to say that didn't make you sound like an illiterate fool. Even at nineteen, words still weren't your strong suit so you let your actions speak for you as your hand reached out on its own accord to caress the silver star still clasped around his neck, the thumb still wearing his ring brushing slowly against the dip between his collarbones; he shivered, and you weren't really sure if it was from your touch or the cold. 

"Y/N." JJ said your name like a prayer, like he couldn't believe you were there in front of him, and you inhaled sharply when both of his hands slowly, carefully moved to cup your face, his calloused thumbs habitually wiping the tears from your cheeks over and over, even as more instantly replaced the ones he swept away. "I fucking missed you."

You stood there, looking like a damned drowned rat with your hair dripping into your eyes, shivering in your soaked jeans and Kildare County High School sweatshirt, the love of your life cradling your face so gently in his hands, and so many things you wanted to say flooding your brain but only the one that mattered the most managed to get by your trembling lips.  

"I'm still in love with you." 

You noticed a lot when you put your heart on the line: the steady, soothing sound of water falling through the trees, the bright, clean taste of rain on your tongue, how the sun was just barely starting to peek out from behind the stormy clouds, but they all paled in comparison to the little things you noticed about the boy in front of you; blue irises made even brighter by the red rimming his eyes, how he stepped closer on the wet grass until the tips of his scuffed boots touched your worn gray high tops, the way his hands trembled ever so slightly against your flushed face. 

"Well, it's your lucky day 'cause I'm still in love with you, too."

All of the breath left your lungs in one big rush when JJ smiled hopefully -oh, how you loved everything about that smile: his slightly crooked teeth, that dimple in his cheek, the endearing pink blush swept across his nose- and you felt yourself return it without a second thought, your own hope once again burning bright in your chest.

"Even after...everything?" Your voice shook like the fingers you slid into the hair at his nape and he leaned down to rest his forehead against yours, close enough you could feel his breath on your lips when he spoke.

"I told you I'd always love you, didn't I?"

You nodded, a delicious shiver running down your spine when he tilted his head just so and gently bumped your nose with his. You remembered all the times he did that through the years, a dizzying slideshow of memories that flashed through your mind like lightning, and your fingers wove themselves deeper in his hair. 

"I have so many things to apologize for," You said with a tiny, quiet shake of your head, tearing your eyes away from his in shame and staring over his shoulder toward where the rest of your friends watched from the porch, all crowded together at the top of the stairs with identical enthralled expressions on their faces. "There are so many mistakes I've made and people I've hurt and I have no idea how to even start saying sorry for it all." 

"Babe."

The sound of your old pet name caused your gaze to snap right back to his and your heart felt like it was about to beat right out of your chest when one of his hands trailed down the sensitive skin of your neck and then lower until it traced along the curve of your hip and left a line of fire in its wake.

"We'll figure that out later, okay?" JJ said as his fingers tucked a loose strand of wet hair behind your ear, a coy, ardent grin on his face. "'Cause I've been waiting three years to kiss you again and if I don't get to do it soon, I'm gonna lose my fucking mind."

You smiled -a wide, joyful, elated smile- and rose up on your tiptoes in anticipation. "Then kiss me." 

You didn't have to tell him twice. His lips pressed against yours desperately, like he needed you to breathe, like you were the very air in his lungs, religiously, like your mouth was the altar and he was there to worship as he pulled you close, the fingers of one hand tangling in your hair while the others dug into your hip. You kissed him back just as hard and the familiar taste of him on your tongue -mint, smoke, salt- sent that dearly missed spark racing through your veins like wildfire.

It was a little cliché, having your long-awaited reunion kiss in the rain but it was honest and candid and real and so much better than anything you could've dreamed. You lost yourself in his touch like you used to, clinging to him like a lifeline and pouring your whole heart into every fierce brush of your lips against his, both of you pulling away for a moment only to dive right back in each time. It was addictive, intoxicating, and you could've spent the rest of your life standing there in the middle of the yard and kissing like there was no tomorrow if a loud, ear-piercing wolf whistle hadn't come from the direction of the porch.

The two of you broke apart just barely, with foreheads still pressed together and swollen lips, and you couldn't stop yourself from giggling when JJ blindly flipped the bird over his shoulder before pulling you back in for another eager kiss that filled your whole body with an exhilarating, heavenly heat that never faded, even after four enthusiastic voices suddenly surrounded you like an excited swarm of nosy, buzzing bees.

"You aren't the only one who missed her, J." Kiara said, smiling widely as you reached out to grab her hand and pull her into a powerful one-armed hug, her chin resting on your shoulder.

"Yeah, stop hogging all the love!" John B added, throwing himself into the pile along with Pope, who slung an arm around your shoulders as he said, "Great to have you back, Y/N."

Sarah was the last to join and she quietly tucked herself under John B's arm with a pleased grin on her face, nodding when you mouthed 'thank you' in her direction. The six of you stood there in the rain, smiling like fools, and as the sun started to scare away the dark clouds overhead and in your heart, a weight you didn't even realize had been crushing your chest slowly began to lift away with each freeing breath. 

You still had a lot of work to do: wrongs to be righted, apologies to be made, explanations -not excuses- to be given for every shitty thing you did in your past. But as happy tears started streaming down your face once again and you felt the arms of the friends you’d thought were lost to you forever tighten around you at the sight, you knew in your bones all would be forgiven. You knew that after three long years, you'd finally come home.

-

let me know what you think! i read each and every one of your comments and cry because they mean so much to me! ❤

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[gallickingun]

hiya! could i get ummm a drunk!izuku confession type thing please? idk if you write for him but yea!

a/n: all right, i’ll try my hand at midoriya. don’t come for me if it’s trash! i told you guys i love kacchan!! can’t help but make him make an appearance in every fic i write lol  

You try to ignore the cheering and shouting in the background, kicking Bakugou in the knee with the heel of your foot to shut him up. You scowl at the others, tugging Deku away from the table, throwing his arm around your shoulders to steady him. You briefly throw some comments about seeing the others tomorrow towards Kirishima and Denki, but your eyes are tugged back towards the fiery blonde standing in your path.

“I’ll kill you later,” you narrow your eyes, the sound of explosions and the scent of burnt sugar lingering in the air as Bakugou tosses a glare your way.

“D-Don’t kill K-Kacchan!” Deku whines, a little tear escaping the corner of his right eyelid. He drops his head to your shoulder, sniffling, “I know he’s an ass, b-but you shouldn’t kill him!”

“Fine,” you grumble, tucking Izuku’s head further into your chest so he can’t hear the screams from Bakugou just behind you, protesting Midoriya’s words.

You manage to drive Izuku back to his apartment without him passing out or throwing up in the floorboard of your car. Right now you’re thankful that you chose to sober up towards the end of the night, opting for water instead of vodka so you could drive Deku back home if necessary.

After all, anything for your best friend. 

You’ve known Deku and Kacchan since your childhood - park days filled with sand pits and playground fights. You were there for Deku when he found out he was quirkless, that he would never be as powerful as All Might. You were the one to patch him up from Kacchan’s blasts in middle school, covering burn marks with salve and cuts with bandages. 

And slowly, but surely, your heart began to fall.

You fell headfirst the night you took him to the junior high dance. Sure, Kacchan ridiculed the both of you for even going, but you knew the Deku needed something to take his mind off of the awful, terrible things happening in the world. He needed to feel something other than powerlessness. With your hands on his shoulders and his arms around your waist, he was grounded for the first time in a long time. 

The look in his eyes is what cemented you to him, the cage around your heart tightening, a lock that only he held the key to.

“H-Hold on,” Deku coughs as you open the front door, assisting his stumbling feet over the threshold. You prop him up against the bar, kicking the door shut with your foot, “Izu’, honey, you need to rest. Listen, I-”

“Wait, w-wait, wait, it can’t be over!” Deku coughs into his elbow, eyes squinting as he tries to focus on what he wants to say next. You lock the door behind you, turning to press your palms to his cheeks to try and sober him up, “Nothing is over, silly. It’s just time to go to bed.”

“No,” he’s pouting now, “I’ve got something I-I need to do.”

You laugh, brushing his hair behind his ears, pushing his bangs away from his sticky face. He’s got leftover tequila and salt on the corners of his lips; you lick your finger and swipe away to rid his skin of it.

You really wish you had the guts to surge forward and kiss it off of him.

The cage around your heart rattles at your closeness, begging to bruise your skin with the confession of your feelings, begging for him to give you the key and set you free. He’s drunk; he’d never remember if you spilled your guts to him right now. Izuku has the worst memory when he gets plastered. 

Deku’s eyes water again, “Kacchan told me that if I g-got drunk, I-I could finally tell the truth.”

“Drunk words, sober thoughts,” you quote, rubbing at his face with the corner of your sleeve, “Can’t believe Kacchan had such insight. What do you need to tell the truth about?”

Izuku is mumbling now, playing with his hands like he does when he starts murmuring incoherently. It’s even worse now that he’s nursing the alcohol that’s still coursing through his veins. You brush your thumb against his cheekbone to drag his attention back to you, “Izu’, what’s going on?”

His big, doe eyes look across at you, lower lip trembling, “Kacchan said that if I wanted to tell the girl I like h-how I real-really, all I needed ta’ do was get drunk a-and it would be easy to tell her but it’s not easy! If anything it just feels m-more difficult because I can’t th-think straight and my heart is hammering a-”

“Kacchan is a dick,” you sigh, bringing him to you for a hug. Your arms wind around him like they always do, like you’ve been doing for the majority of your natural born life. “He knows that you stumble over your words. Being drunk wouldn’t help that.”

Deku wipes at his eyes as you separate from him, “I-I guess. I think he was trying to help me with my confidence.”

“Literally any girl would be lucky to have you, Deku,” you’re smiling but it feels disingenuous. You know it doesn’t reach your eyes, but you don’t have the capacity to care. “You’re amazing, wonderful - hell, you’re smart and you’re a wonderful fighter. You’ve got a whole PR team taking care of the incessant fangirls running around your coattails.”

“But you don’t like me, do you?”

Your brows furrow and you’re quick to deter his comment, “Of course I like you! How could you say that? We’ve been best friends since diapers!”

“I don’t want to be best friends anymore,” he sniffles, his lips quirking as he tries to make the next words come out of his mouth. “I can’t be best friends a-anymore.”

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask, racking your brain for something you could’ve said or done in the past couple of months to set him off, but you come up blank. You start to sweat, your hands flying around when you speak, “Deku, y-you could’ve told me, we could talk abo-”

“No,” he reaches up to circle his hand around your wrist, tugging you back down to earth. He’s laughing, which is much unlike him, but it makes you pause, “This is why Kacchan told me to get drunk. B-Because I can’t think straight around you and I always screw it up.”

You’re trying to connect the dots, but he’s too close and you’re too flustered. He’s such a big part of your life, to lose him would be like losing a part of yourself.

“I can’t be just your best friend anymore,” he repeats the statement that makes your heart shatter, “it’s too much.”

You go to speak but he places his palm over your mouth, little sparks of electricity from his quirk used to hold you down, “It’s too much because every time I see you, I just want to kiss you. A-And I get angry when I see you talking to Kacchan, which I thought was just normal at first be-because I’m always angry with Kacchan. B-But I realized that it was jealousy.”

Jealousy? Kissing?

“He told me that if I got drunk, I’d be able to tell you how I-I feel,” Izuku licks his lips, his throat bobbing. “But earlier, I-I just froze.”

His irises harden into little gemstones, green flickering towards you with certainty - an emotion Deku doesn’t often feel. He sighs, tensing his shoulders as he says the next thing that pieces your heart back together, “I love you. I have for a long time. And I-I can’t hold it in anymore.”

The sparks around his hands die out, his fingertips falling away from your face as he grazes your jaw. He’s sweating now, toes curling in his socks at your reaction.

“Silly Deku,” you murmur, eyes hot with the threat of tears. You thread your fingers into his hair but this time it means something much more than it’s ever meant before, “I wish you’d told me sooner.”

Somehow the two of you meet in the middle, neither of you needing to communicate what you want next. His lips slot against yours, hands tugging you by the ribs. Your heart bursts from the cage, his words slipping down your throat to set you free.

-

send me a character + trope/au/scenario/prompt and i’ll write a blurb!

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[ktheist]

birth of an empress.

synopsis. partners for three years and friends for longer, jungkook thought you’d remain so until he saw you with the knight at the merchant’s trade.

alternatively, the friendly neighborhood wizard trying to propose to the infamous dragon slayer in the middle of slaying a dragon? now, that’s classic.

muses. wizard!jungkook x dragonslayer!reader x knight!jimin

trope. bad girl, good guy but make it magical. / royalty au / dragon slayer au / wizard au / parents au

words. 13k

disclaimer. no dragon was harmed in the making of this scenario.

warnings. depictions of dragon slaying, war and violence. mentions of blood.

story time.

note. wow i powered through this right after an all nighter of doing assignments. please give it some love guys / this is one-shot continuation from my wizard’s oath drabble so if you feel like you’ve read the first few scenes, that’s probably why. stay tuned for my story time where i talk about the characters’s dynamics, what inspires me etc!

“hey so, listen.” jungkook says, back pressed up flat against the slab of concrete wall that barely covers the two of you, “you know we’ve been at it for a long time, right?”

you throw your gaze at the boy - perhaps he’s a little taller than the first time you met him but you can’t help see him as that kid from across the streets who would boast about his wizard-counsel father to you, “i swear to god and merlin and everything you consider magical, if you tell me you want to stop slaying dragons just as we’re about to slay a goddamn dragon, i will obliterate you right here and now, jeon.”

a tree trunk wheezes past the wall straight into the tower a few feet ahead, bringing it down into ruins, followed by a mighty roar, as though to warn you about going against it.

“no. i’m not gonna stop.” he quickly says, bright doe eyes boring into you, “i’m just saying-”

you grab a fistful of his shirt, yanking him with you as you leap to the side and go rolling down the hill just as the slab of wall melts from the burst of fire that pours out the dragon’s mouth.

“okay, that’s great then.” you throw him a fleeting glance - indicating that you’re listening before ducking just in time as the dragon turns its head in your direction. “but can’t this wait?”

the face he makes at your last question reminds you of a kicked puppy. almost in an instant, you want to put down the elven sword and bring him into a bear hug and apologize. but when the booming roar tears through the sky like thunder, you know you don’t have that luxury.

“cover for me.” are your last words before you bolt straight to the dragon, the heat on the soles of your feet gathering before propping you forward and onto the dragon’s back.

the beast cries out in agony when you drive your sword through its scales, swaying sideways, almost throwing you off if it wasn’t for your tight grip on the handle of the sword.

you don’t need call for the wizard. he knows his cue when he steps in front of the dragon, deep purple hood drawn over his head and half of his face. the only thing visible is his moving lips. speaking a foreign language that’s lost to most of the world.

when the dragon stills, you yank the sword out of its flesh and trudge up the slope of its back, aiming for its head.

you distinctly notice the illuminated circle forming around the dragon as it growls in contempt for the spell jungkook is casting on it. a movement restriction spell. the heat comes back full-force, coursing through your veins and lighting up the hollow in your chest. you take the last leap before landing on its head, sword digging deep in between its slit-like eyes.

it takes you a moment to pull the sword out of the dragon’s thick skull, silver blood splattering all over your clothes and face. the dragon tumbles to the ground right in front of the unmoving wizard a heartbeat and a half later while you wipe the elven sword with your sleeve before sheathing it.

“good job, wizard.” you commend but instead of the usual grin he would offer you after every slay, this time, he looks at you with furrowed brows and pressed lips.

“what’s wrong? are you hurt?” you reach out a hand to check his face but instead, he holds it firmly midair before dropping to his knees.

“i know you think of me as nothing more than your neighborhood friend and partner but when i saw you with that knight last week,” face contorts painfully, he shakes his head as though willing a bad memory away. then he meets your curious eyes with a light so clarifying, his purification magic can’t even compete, “i can’t do this anymore - going out to battles and having the fear of either of us dying. ___. before i regret it, i want you to marry me.”

that’s when you retract your hand out of his grasp as though it’s as hot as the dragon’s fiery breath, “no. you’re insane, jeon.”

you begin to trudge forward, going around the dragon’s carcass to get to the forestline where it’ll lead back to the village.

“that i am but not because i’ve decided to spend my whole life with you!” he calls out, feet padding hurriedly to chase after you.

“jungkook.” you abruptly turn around, making him halt just a few inches away. a sigh escapes your lips when you find yourself staring at his chest, all thanks to his unfair height. you crane your neck, after all these years, it still doesn’t sit well with you that the boy you grew up with had overgrown you by a head and a half, “you’re not thinking straight! i mean, you never even had a lover and now you’re asking me to marry you? that’s absurd!”

“will you be my lover then?” he asks, stars in his eyes.

“not in a million eons!” you almost scream but he doesn’t seem to be affected by the rejection - before he can say anything though, you’ve already turned your back on him. trudging down the pathway.

“you won’t marry me and you won’t be my lover! what am i supposed to do to win your heart?” it’s the delicateness in his voice and the fact that he isn’t following you, that makes you stop in your trek.

“god, you’re such an idiot.” you groan, turning around with your arms crossed over your chest. it’s a struggle to remain mad when he looks at you like a lost puppy but you persevere, “flowers and picnics and taking me to dances - things like that. just because i’ve been holding swords more than i do needles and threads doesn’t mean i don’t want what any girl wants... to be courted.”

by the end of it, you feel like you’re on fire. not the kind of fire that you feel when your powers course through your veins, but the kind that makes you squirm and want to run away out of sheer embarrassment.

“o-oh.” jungkook stutters out as he starts to register your words. “th-then, will you go with me to old hedrick’s party - i know it’s no ball but we can dance and after that, maybe we could go to the field and watch the stars?”

you take your sweet time going over the pros and cons of becoming jungkook’s lover - everyone will know as soon as you show up in a dress with jungkook and at a party at that. your sisters were the ones that are considered the social butterflies.

when you take too long, jungkook starts rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.

“okay. meet you there at 8.”

his head almost snaps off his neck when he looks up to you so fast. all stars and smiles. “really?”

“and no robes - dress normally, for once.” you add, noticing the way his robes would encase around him like a cocoon. it’s been awhile since you actually see him wear anything but that.

“no robes,” he echoes, agreeing but his eyes light up all the more when he looks like a thought has crossed him, “and no swords either.”

your shoulder line tenses at that. between the two of you, one uses a wand and the other uses an otherwordly sword. and you definitely do not know how deadly spells come out of a twig.

“but what if we get attacked?” you try to reason.

“you seem to forget,” jungkook plants both his hands on his hips, chest puffed with pride - it reminds you of the time when he would stop you in the middle of you coming home from buying breads and begin boasting about his father’s recent achievements at the council, saying he’ll be just like him or perhaps even more powerful, “just because you’re the one who does all the slaying, doesn’t mean i’m any less lethal - i’m the strongest wizard of our time. and a wand is definitely easier to carry than a sword.”

“very well,” a sigh escapes you while your shoulders sag in defeat, “no swords.”

jungkook looks proud - like he just won a fight. with that, you whirl on your heels, a hand held up to wave at him, “well then, better hurry and harvest the dragon’s heart if you want to make it to the dance on time.”

you hear the wizard grumble from behind you as he rushes back to where the dragon lies, withered, complaining about how he really should get himself an apprentice.

“one night,” you throw your head back against the wall, shoulderline slacking, “i decide to leave my sword at home for just one night and that’s when the mercenaries come to gather in our village for an illegal faery smuggling.”

the muted pleas of the winged creatures almost get drowned out by the boisterous yelling and laughing of the group of men in the streets. subdued light shines from underneath the poorly blanketed boxes in the cart, no doubt cages where they keep the captured faeries.

“don’t worry, ___.” jimin smiles, brown pupils disappearing beneath his crescent shaped eyes, “i’ll protect you.”

he raises the silver sword in his hand, the royal family’s dragon crest peeking from his grip on the handle.

“no, you won’t need to protect her.” jungkook chirps in heatedly from your other side, “because that’s my job.”

“as i recall, ___ wouldn’t put her trust on magic to save her life,” the smile, if anything, widens just the tiniest bit, “just an observation, of course.”

before the wizard can form another retort - and you know you’ll never see the end of this if you don’t put a stop to it, you quickly speak over the hushed silence, meeting the eyes of the guests that are cramped in old hedrick’s slightly-smaller-than a villa abode.

“don’t worry everyone, these two may appear unreliable but one is the emperor’s personal knight and the other is the brightest wizard of the century.” you offer them a tight smile, not because you don’t believe what came out of your mouth but because it’s the absolute, honest truth yet they are doing nothing to assure the people of their capabilities than argue who to play the knight in shining armor.

if we’re talking about technicalities, then technically, jimin is exactly that.

“indeed, we shall put a stop to the atrocities happening right in the streets of our homes.” jungkook rises from the ground, hands planted on either sides of his hips but it’s short lived when you pull him back down to hide underneath the windowline you’ve been peeking through.

“stay down. we don’t know if they have any enchantments or if there are dark wizards among them.” you hiss underneath your breath.

it’s a moment later that you hear a grating voice call from outside, “you there! hiding in that hideous house! come out!”

old hedrick looks like he’s about to leap out and prance at whoever insulted his home and perhaps get beaten up by men twice or thrice as strong as he is - the only thing stopping him is your hard stare that makes him cower behind his second wife.

“let’s go.” you’re the first to rise to your feet, patting off the dust from your dress that your sisters almost got into a fight about when choosing what color would match your eyes.

“stay close to me.” jungkook murmurs under his breath from next to you while jimin lets out a brief laugh just before you stop a good ten feet away from the men who seem to stiffen at the sight of jimin.

“what’s so funny?” the same man whose called you out steps forward - he seems to be the leader, eyes burning holes inside jimin’s chest where the ghost of the dragon lies upon his armor, “you think you’re so tough? huh, knight?”

“no, not at all.” the aforementioned knight shakes his head, a cheeky smile adorning his features, “but supposedly, the wizard does.”

and just like that, all eyes fall on jungkook. “wizard, huh?” the man grins, golden tooth and all.

“half of you can barely read, let alone understand the law but it isn’t a puzzle piece to figure out that capturing magifolks is illegal.” he starts, from your periphery, you see his left hand holding his wand on his back , “if you walk away now, perhaps you get to do jail time with your limbs intact.”

they burst into laughter, almost as though it was a baby who said such threats.

“i’d probably believe that nice lady is more capable of putting a scratch on my face if she said that than you, boy.” the leader towers over in laughter, slapping his knee as though he’s heard the jest of the century.

“will you?” you lift one brow at the leader in the midst of the subsiding humor.

“what?” one of them questions while swiping a tear off the corner of his eye.

“walk away. if i told you too - i would hate to ruin my dress teaching you men a lesson.” you don’t know if it’s the ice cold tone you’re using or if it’s the way to stare at them, but their shoulderline begin to straighten as each of them begin to size you up, those with daggers strapped on their waist or thighs reaching for their weapons now.

“why don’t you come here and whisper it to my ear, yeah?” his lecherous grin returns but there’s a sort of restraint that tells you he’s no longer perceiving you as the damsel in distress.

for one, there isn’t a single line of frustration on your forehead.

“oh, i wouldn’t do that if i were you.” jimin warns them but it’s already too late. you’re already treading towards the leader with heavy footsteps and before you know it, a familiar heat courses through your veins, focusing in the fist that you’re swigging towards him.

a loud crack cuts through the night as the man slouches against the broken wood of the card, face half-rearranged, gold tooth falling in his lap while blood from his mouth and nose trickles down his chin. for a moment, everyone and everything stands still.

“those of you who think you can withstand me and my companions, step forward. otherwise run along like the cowards that you are who dare only step on the weak.” you nonchalantly offer, meeting the eyes of the mercenaries one by one.

the first warrior-cry breaks through the night as one of them charges at you with a dagger, loomed with the shadow of the dark arts. you step aside, tripping your attacker and sending him leaping across the ground, right in front of jimin’s polished metal shoes.

you catch the knight’s devious grin before he hits your attacker’s head with the hilt of his sword, sending the man unconscious. it’s then that they begin to charge all at once, bearing weapons much sinister than the last. jungkook helps thwart the weapons out of their hands so you can take them on bare hands fair and square - but you suppose it isn’t all that fair when you have the blood of thr first dragon slayer running in your veins.

they soon learn that they have to go for the wizard in the back to actually dismantle you and jimin.

“a little help here!” jungkook yells over the throng of mercenaries out to kill him.

“bit busy!” jimin yells back somewhere a few feet away,driving the hilt of his sword in the face of one of the mercenaries that was charging at him when he had his back on him “and quite literally, don’t care if you get your hair messed up!”

you shake your head at their banter, piling up your own body counts, ducking and sending blow strong enough to knock them out at once. it’s some time after your 13th hit that a morning star misses you by a inch.

the wielder is burlier and taller than the average men, sporting a nastier frown as he gazes down at you like an annoying little fire ant that refuses to go down.

“___, catch!” jimin calls for you, just before he tosses you his sword and uses the same hand he’d held the sword to sucker punch the man who’s halfway blacked out as he claws at jimin’s wrist to release his shirt.

“thanks!” you grin when you feel the solidity of the dragon engraved handle and measure its likely weight with your own elven sword.

the burly man grunts when he misses you again by a hair’s breadth. eye twitching when you gesture for him to come to you with your free hand. when he does, you step to the side, taking the opening to slash the sword through his forearm and sending the weapon skidding on the ground while he growls in pain, clutching onto the wound. the heat warms up your entire body as you leap forward, smashing the hilt of the sword into his face, sending him tumbling on the ground. after you’re sure he’s not getting up, only then do you let yourself breathe, returning the sword to its owner.

“___, are you okay?” jungkook’s wide, round eyes are captures your own for a split second before they wander to your tattered dress, inspecting if there was any wounds. if anything, there will be when your sisters see the the ghastly tear on the side of the dress.

before you can even say anything, his arms band around you and traps you in a bone-crushing hug. you have to take twice to make sure it’s still the same wizard that’s watched you slay dragons for the last three years.

“i’m fine. the dark magic infused in their weapons weakened my powers a bit but i’m not a child, you know? i’ve faced worse.” you chuckle, patting his back.

somewhere behind jungkook, you hear someone clear their throat. the wizard appears to be less perplexed when he turns around to face old hedrick and the rest of the villagers that poured out of their homes where they’d been silently watching the events unfold.

the priest approaches you with a grateful smile, “dragon slayer and wizard, you have our humblest gratitude.” then he gestures for jimin to come closer and he does, sending you a cheeky grin when he stops to stand next to you, “you too, knight. there is evil lurking in every shadow but the three of you are what makes the world a better place.”

“it was part of my duty.” jimin lowers his head, arm crossed over his chest while you shift your weight on your feet.

“i just live here so.” you shrug.

it’s jungkook that steps forth, enjoying the fame and attention, “as long as i, your friendly neighborhood wizard, and my dragon slayer sidekick,” he gestures to you before announcing with his whole chest, “are around, you have nothing to fear. this is my wizard’s oath.”

you join the bouts of cheers and applause from the villagers, shaking your head at his antics. but when they begin to crowd him like ants around sugar, you slowly disappear into the shadows where you know the familiar route will take you back to your home. but five steps in, jimin falls into pace with you, his metal armor clacking in the dark.

“allow me to walk you home, my lady.” with the sources of dark magic gone, you’re able to use your powers to see his cheeky grin even in the dark.

“ladies don’t wield swords like a savage.” you remark, returning your own grin.

“they come in many forms.” he replies too smoothly, “but one thing’s for sure - they all bleed blue.”

you feel your body freeze, step coming to a stop. “how do you-”

“the prince,” he offers, as though it’s the answer you’re looking for before he continues, “sends his invitation to you for dinner in three night’s time. that’s what i came here to tell you before the mercenaries begin to pour in.”

he doesn’t ask for your permission when he slips his hand under your stone cold one, bringing it to his lips. your tongue is tied but your throat itches to say something - to ask more about the dinner but before you can, you hear jungkook calling you not too far away and when you look back to where the knight is supposed to be, all you see is darkness.

“i can’t believe you’re leaving me to go home when we promised to watch the stars together.” jungkook huffs, lips pursed just the slightest bit.

“jungkook, how well do you know the prince?” you finally say after breaking away from your stupor.

“the prince?” he blinks, the remnants of his sulking now disappeared into thin air, “he’s a spoiled brat. whenever i get hired to escort him to one of his crusades, all he does is boast about anything and everything to the royal families whose castle we were staying at.” the wizard scrunches his nose, as though willing a bad memory away. “why?”

“he just invited me to dinner.” you inform, watching as his facial complexion drop and his hands grip your shoulders tightly.

“you can’t - mustn't go, ___.”

“wands and weapons, please.” the footman approaches you just as you step through the much nicer room of the inn where the prince told you to meet him.

you share a cautious look with jungkook, the wizard being more apparent with his reluctance when his eyebrows join together as he reaches for the wand in his pocket while you unstrap your sword from your hips.

“right this way.” another footman steps forward, gesturing to the door adjacent to the entrance.

“ah! dragon slayer, welcome!” prince hoseok grins from the table he’s at, eyes going wide when he sees the familiar wizard who insisted on tagging along, “jungkook, i’ll be damned. i didn’t know you knew ___. if i did, i would’ve had you introduce us sooner.”

“yes, well, last i recall, you were planning to propose a law against dragon slayers - which got shot down so fast for it’s absurdity since slayers help keep the empire from falling in the dragon’s reign.” jungkook offers, a hard line on his lips as he studies the prince with suspicious eyes.

“that was the past,” prince hoseok shakes his hand as though he doesn’t hear the hostility in the wizard’s greeting, “cousin, come and take a seat. we’ve a lot to catch up.”

you bow rather than drop to a courtesy. after all, you’re in your gear and this isn’t any normal dinner.

“it’s an honor to have you come all the way here, your highness. do you like the village so far?” you begin with pleasantries and even go as far as fixing the young prince a smile once you sit yourself across from him, jungkook on your left.

the prince leans back against the chair as he throws his head back while he sighs, “i expected better but i’m not surprised at the appalling state you people live in - it’s a poor farmers’ village after all.”

you hum, “i wonder whose fault that is that lets the people suffer in such poor conditions.” the smile just the slightest bit strained at his offhanded comment just as the footman rolls in with the food.

he pretends he doesn’t hear that too.

“ah, don’t you just love red wine?” the prince offers you a dimpled smile, tilting the flute glass as he takes a whiff of whatever red wines are supposed to smell like - you never understood how these people could sit around distinguishing the smell of one beverage to another while there were people scraping for a day’s worth of meal all over the empire.

“all wine tastes the same to me, your highness.” you begin to cut through the steak.

“i shouldn’t have asked,” the prince shakes his head in mirth, placing the wine down on the table before he makes a biting comment, “brutes like you only know how to swing a sword and kill everything the her path just like your father.”

“that’s it.” a thud echoes against the walls as jungkook’s chair tilts backwards as he abruptly stands, “we’re leaving. i knew something’s up when you invited ___ for dinner even though you hated dragon slayers. in the end, you’re still the spoiled rotten brat who takes pleasure in terrorizing others.”

you suppress a smile from the wizard’s outburst, your own anger subsiding halfway. it’s not that you don’t want to defend your father’s pride but you barely knew the guy. he disappeared like thin air after the night he left for a foreign country in search for the spiked dragon. you appreciate jungkook getting more worked up than you though.

“what’s the meaning of this?” jungkook demands when the guards at the door steps in his way.

“so that’s how it is.” you chuckle dryly, turning to face the smirking prince. “a secret meeting at some unknown village just on the boarder. this is how you’ll make sure to secure the throne? by killing the more eligible heir who actually has the first emperor’s blood running through her veins?”

you think you struck a cord when the prince slams his fisted hand onto the table, “blame it on the history lessons i get from our great uncle clifford and his brutal slaughtering of all his seven brothers and cousins.” he sneers but frowns when he looks at jungkook, “i liked you, wizard. i even thought of bringing you into the council as my royal mage. you have potential. shame that you chose to side with the savage.”

jungkook threatens through gritted teeth, taking one step towards the leisure man but stop when the guards begin to pour into the room, swords pointing from every direction. you place a hand on jungkook’s shoulder, feeling his muscles relax just slightly as you speak.

“how about you stop hiding behind your guards, prince? face this savage with honor - if you win, nobody will challenge your right to the throne.”

“i have no time for games. kill them.” the prince begins to dig into the steak, cringing when it enters his mouth and spitting it back out, saying something about how it’s still raw while the guard begin to corner you and jungkook until you’re back-to-back with each other.

“this isn’t looking to good, is it?” you ask.

“i can feel my wand close by, if we could just get through-”

jungkook’s words get cut off as you drop to the ground, extending a leg and tripping one guard over before punching another one where the sun doesn’t shine. after recovering from the surprise attack, they begin to charge at you all at once.

you hiss when you pick up a sword from one of the guards you’ve taken down. the dark magic seeps into your body like molten lava the more you try to resist it. the dragon crest of the royal family is missing and the weight of this sword is much heavier than jimin’s. but you chalk it up with the fact that dark magic is most lethal to the blood of the dragon slayers.

“___, let that thing go! it’s enchanted. you can’t handle the dark magic flowing through it!” jungkook orders, voice reaching the roof and effectively letting the enemies know of your infirmity.

cold sweat is already beginning to trickle down your forehead. the warmth of your power now a dying smolder in your chest.

“who’s got a better chance at wielding a sword? you or me?” you retort, sending him one last grin before going all in, slashing through the guards without any care for life the way you did three days ago with the mercenaries.

although you still try to avoid injuring their vital organs, just enough to make them drop their weapons.

you’re heaving and sporting cuts - some deep, some shallow - by the time the last body hits the ground. the prince isn’t anywhere in sight and the last remaining guards who kept their distance, watching you them down one after another, finally realizes their loss and flee.

that’s when you allow yourself to drop to your knees, hands clutching the sword tightly for dear life until jungkook yanks it out of you. his face is blurred but if your vision isn’t so badly damaged, maybe you’ll see his eyebrows furrowing while words pour out of his lips like a dam, telling you to lie down and rest but all you hear now is an echoing ring.

“you...” you huff through bated breaths, “...worry too much.”

that’s when darkness consumes you.

the sound of a twig snapping is what sends alarms throughout your body.

it’s close.

too close.

the steps they take is heavy but soundless - for ordinary human hearing that is. you know it’s a man’s footstep before you even leap from your laying down position, hand clenched into a fist only to stop centimeters from jimin’s nose.

from the way he blinks his rounded eyes, it appears as though he didn’t expect you to be awake.

as if on cue, your vision shakes and you fall backwards but before your head hits the ground, the knight is already on your side, hand under your head as he lay you down slowly.

“where am i?” you squint your eyes at the crackling fire a few feet away.

“in the wizard’s secret cave.” he replies simply, sitting down on the ground next to you.

you grunt in displeasure when you recall the haunting memories of the dark magic taking over you, draining every trace of fire from your chest until you feel like your rib cages were about to cave. but along with the recollection comes realization.

glaring at the knight, you quiz him, “why are you here? aren’t you on the prince’s side?”

jimin shakes his head, almost appalled at the thought, “i swore allegiance to the emperor and his excellency wanted to see what his foolish son would do when he found out about another potential heir that could claim the throne.”

a shadow cast itself over his feature as something heavy lapses over the cave’s walls, “his excellency is deeply sorry for what his son did - he thought prince hoseok would’ve tried bettering his swordsmanship or take an interest in politics instead of going for his cousin’s head.”

“and yet i’m the one lying on the ground in some cave.” you scoff, throwing a glance over jimin’s solemn expression, noticing how he keeps his eyes on his lap instead of looking at you.

“his imperial majesty can’t be seen taking the side of a commoner-mothered niece. even if that niece bears a stronger blood of the dragons.” he’s murmuring now, you don’t know if it’s because you can hear him clearly or because he’s ridden by guilt.

“all i hear is an excuse of a failed monarch who’s too lazy to fix what he broke so he decided to sit in the sidelines and watch things unfold but when someone is about to die, he’ll save them and call it his best effort.”  you suppress a groan as the drumming against your temples intensifies just as you begin to push yourself up again but this time, more careful.

“don’t touch me.” it came out harsher than you intend it to. but jimin places his hands back in his lap, clenching and unclenching it.

a minute sense of satisfaction blooms across your chest when you manage to stand up on your own. if you think the light from the fire was too much after having known only darkness for who-knows-how long, the rays at the end of the cave is almost blinds you.

yet the first tingle of the warmth on your skin is liberating - reminds you that you’re alive.

“____?” a familiar voice calls you as a cloaked fogure in deep purple step out of the bushes, bearing a basket full of herbs, “is it really you?”

the bags under his eyes are a telltale sign of lack of sleep, possibly from tending to your fish-on-land-state.

“unless you can see spirits, i reckon it is me.” you shoot him a grin.

but what you don’t expect is for tears to begin pricking those sleepless eyes and him dropping the basket on the ground. before you know it, you’re engulfed in a bone-crushing hug. his arms shake around you and his sniffles drum in your ears - it hadn’t dawn on you that you could’ve lost your life until jungkook is crying and mumbling words you can barely catch.

“y-your life force was so weak - i - i thought i was g-going to lose you.” he forces out between ripples of sniffles, “i-i didn’t know if you were gonna wake up, ____, it-it’s been a week - a week of watching your unconscious body lay there after i extracted what i could of the dark magic.”

you hug him back a little tighter, burying your face in his chest. the lump in your throat makes it hard to speak - to even tease him about being such a cry baby like you usually would.

“no, i absolutely and irrevocably am not going to head a riot.” you announce, slamming the bowl of broth made by your mother. jungkook had gotten it before he came here, it was buried underneath the herbs he’d picked up along the way.

jimin’s shoulder line remains straight and dignified. he’s gotten over your earlier conversation as if you were discussing whether faery hair or berserker spine would be a better mold for a sword.

the answer is berserker spine, undoubtedly.

“the people has caught wind of the direct descendant of the first emperor.” jimin begins, “they won’t stand for the prince’s irresponsible behavior anymore than they have to.”

“what about you?” glancing at the wizard who’s been quiet since jimin brought up the matter, you finally choose to address him directly, “what do you think?”

jungkook shifts his weight on his other foot, setting down the ladle in a bowl next to the couldron, “i- well, the current royal family’s blood is too obscured by ordinary lineage, the current emperor has some powers but the prince is basically human-“

the sigh is what makes him clamp his mouth shut. the look he gives you reminds you of an injured puppy.

“i haven’t even been awake for five hours yet the weight of the crown is already pushed upon me.” the hard wooden material of the chair pokes into your sore back, almost as though mocking you for your cowardice.

“i’ll relay your answer to his majesty and spread rumors about your untimely death so the people will give up on the coup.” jimin stands up, nodding once but just as he passes you, another sigh escapes your lips. your chest is heavy.

“wait.” your voice is unmissable.

you crane your neck to meet the knight’s gaze, “come back in a few days and i’ll give you my final answer.”

the corners of his lips twitches and you think you see the jimin you’ve come to know and fought along side come to surface. but it’s hard to tell now that you know he’s a man of many faces.

“very well.” and with that he takes his leave.

the next ten minutes was spent with jungkook mixing and tasting a pinch of his brewing concoction while you watch his back. realization hits you like a warm blanket in winter. his shoulders are broader and his arms appear stronger - muscled than that scrawny boy from across the streets. he used to run around carrying books half his size whenever be came back from school while you trained with your master in your front yard.

time’s changed but neither of you did.

or so you thought.

you wonder when he started developing feelings for you. was it that time when you saved him from a stray wolf in the forest? or was it when you handed him your first baked cookie that your mother actually put you up to?

either way, for you, it was on your 10th summer when you were lying under the tree shade. jungkook’s footsteps couldn’t have been louder but you ignored it and kept your eyes closed until you felt something tug on your hair. when you opened your eyes, the yellowish buttercup petals wave from your periphery. a ten year old jungkook had told you you looked pretty with a wildflower tucked over your ear.

the moment jungkook calls your name, you notice that the fire dancing underneath the couldron has faded into smolders, wisps of smoke hovering over the concoction.

the wizard is standing by the table now where jimin once sat, "since you're all better, do you want to get some fresh air?" he shoots you a smile that only jeon jungkook is capable of, "don't worry, i already put an enchantment over this area of the forest. the prince won't be able to find you even if he hired the best tracker as long as you remain within the spell's boundaries."

the moon isn't shy to shower you with its light, the sound of the woodland creatures and magifolks echoes from the hollows of the trees, almost as though celebrating your recovery.

your footsteps halt when you notice the familiar ruins on top of the hill where jungkook once proposed to you out of the sheer adrenaline after having slayed a dragon.

"is it wise to have your bat cave so close to the village? wouldn't the prince's men think of searching here at some point?" you wonder out loud, golden petals cushioning your landing as you plop down.

"of course they did." jungkook admits nonchalantly, joining you on the ground, "but they walked straight past the barrier - i mean, it's my barrier we're talking about."

you let out a short chuckle, a hand propped underneath your head as a makeshift pillow as you try to connect the dots of stars to form shapes.

"those groups of stars look like they make a sword." you point to somewhere on the east side of the skies.

his own hand enters your line of view when he begins pointing in the same direction as you or something next to the alleged sword, "and that's a wand - could it be the ones the prince took from us?"

"that's literally stars that somewhat look aligned." you state, deadpanned, "the whole skies are full of wands then."

jungkook's hand shoots down almost instantly. with a stolen glance, you affirm the sure pout on his lips as he mumbles out, "what's wrong with a gazillion of wands in the skies?"

"absolutely nothing." you find yourself smiling, eyes fluttering shut as you focus on the night breeze that brushes against your skin.

it’s after awhile that you feel a soft tug on your hair. a deja vu feeling overcomes you when you see the petal in the corner of your eye and jungkook lying on his side instead of his back like when your last saw him. a delicate smile adorns his features as he plucks another flower off the stalk and places it gently in your hair just above your hairline.

“these are...” you trail off, recalling the spot where the dragon lied motionless after you’d slayed it.

“they started popping out of the ground like mushrooms while i was harvesting the dragon’s heart. how a death of something treacherous birthed something so pretty,” he supplies, still tucking flowers in your hair like it’s the most normal thing to do.

“jungkook,” you murmur softly, almost sounding like a fifteen year old damsel in love, “do you mean it? when you proposed to me?”

stars begin to burst in those eyes of his as they widen,“of course, i’ve fallen for you with every fiber of my body. i wish to spend my entire life with you.”

it takes you a moment to gather your thoughts and your composure but you can’t help clearing your suddenly dry throat, “you do know if i decide to lead the riot and become empress, we can’t be together, right?”

his gaze quivers at your words. supposedly, he hasn’t considered the implications the way you did.

“not everyone has what you have,” his voice is strained, hand drawn to his side now, “and if you choose to lead the riot, and if we succeed - i know we will - i won’t mind staying by your side as the royal wizard.” he finally says but adds hesitant doubt, “if you’ll have me.”

“i didn’t ask to be born by a slayer father who stopped coming home and a devastatingly loyal mother who decided to become a housewife when she got pregnant with her partner’s child,” you bear no ill intention to either of your parents - but it’s times like these, you wonder about the what-ifs, had you been born to normal human parents, had you been an ordinary girl who jungkook would have met on an ordinary day and perhaps still fall in love with you, “after all these years, i’m still that child. unable to turn the tides of my own fate.”

jungkook doesn’t say a word, and when you steal a glance at him, he doesn’t look at you either. his gaze is lowered and his mouth clamped together in suppression of words he dare not say. though darkness blankets the sky, the truth is clear as day-

“we could run away, you and i,” you offer, the lump in your throat no more than the feeling of having your neck pinched, “but you want me to save the empire’s future from falling during the prince’s reign. and you don’t mind losing me or at least having just a part of me to obtain that.”

the reality-stricken expression making its way to his face is telling enough. your heart writhes in your chest, begging to be freed of all feelings and emotions you didn’t know you were pushing down until the first tear hits your cheek and your first sob forces him to look up.

“___...” jungkook murmurs your name like the words of a withered poem. beautiful because it’s torn.

“i wish you would fight for me,” you push yourself up, buttercups raining down on you and pooling in your lap while some falls back to the ground, “just once, i wish you would see more as the slayer you partnered up with to bring down the reign of the dragons that threatens to ruin your beloved empire.”

yet you still let him hold you, one hand on your the back of your head and the other on your waist, whispering empty words that somehow comforts you, “it’s okay, it’s okay.” he says.

but nothing is, as you weep over his love.

you’d received an overflow of it even before he’d told you, but it was never enough.

it takes three whole months of preparing for the seize. half of the countries have shown their explicit support, sending their troops at your request - or rather, jimin’s handwritten letter on your behalf. estuaria’s falcon had just arrived half an hour ago and the knight is announcing yet another addition to the countries supporting your future rule.

“do we really need that many men to seize the capital?” you say from your seat, facing the doorway where you can see every single face that walks through and halt in hesitance when notice you, “jungkook and i can take them on by ourselves, like the old days.”

the wizard shoots up from five seats away, chest puffed, arms crossed over his chest, “i can take them all myself!”

“yes, yes sure you can.” jimin acknowledges, not bothering to look up from the estuaria’s king’s letters, “but the army is necessary to honor the support of our allies.”

when he’s like that, you know not to argue with him - everything goes in one ear and out the other. you’re a mere pawn to the larger scheme of things. and you like it that way. if fate wanted you to have the throne, you would regardless of whether you tried to reach for it or not.

jungkook has been by your side through it all. unlike you, he actually knows what’s going on - even though he has to fight jimin for the information half of the time.

come to think of it, there’s never a dull moment with the two - there’s always something they’d be arguing about and one or both would eventually turn to you for the final say. the one who’s opinion got backed up by you would sport a victorious smirk and the sore loser would have to finally admit defeat.

naturally, you side with jungkook because jimin, though your loyal supporter and master mind, is still the emperor’s dog. you had to make it hard for him to get his plan through just because you’re still bitter about the fact that he’d set you up to walk into a trap that maims your right arm. it sustained the most injury and where dark magic melded into your flesh and rendered your good fighting hand as close to a human’s. 

you’re learning how to wield a sword with your left hand but it’s taking some time. jimin assured you that he’d protect you and stay by your side during the siege that’s about to take place in a week. but you know it’s more about getting a rise of out jungkook.

and it did but there’s something in the way the wizard would whip out his wand and the burst of stars in his eyes, that tells you jungkook might have taken the jest a little too personally. you may have fallen back into your old habits as though neither admitted their feelings for the other, but there are traces here and there that would disrupt the semblance of normality that you and jungkook have.

when the day of the seize comes, all you remember is walking towards the throne without so much as a soul barring your way. jimin being the head knight had told his men to stay down. some tried to rebel but before they can even get to you, the men from one of your allied countries took them down. you did hear of prince hoseok’s escape to wofren a few days later, the king himself offering to send him back when he showed up demanding for protection.

jimin had dropped on one knee, an arm propped on the other while his free hand lies on his chest where his heart would be, “long live the empress, slayer of dragons and sovereign of men.”

you barely register the emperor’s knights falling to their knees in suit as well as your own men, repeating the words jimin had said.

one year later, you ended up learning all the bouts of governing an empire all the while wearing the crown on your head. conquered a few more countries until the empire stretched almost throughout the whole continent. you’re currently at war with askana, the last standing kingdom in the continent.

many have tried to challenge your power but failed and askana will too. your lieutenant general and appointed-upon-crowning grand duke, had thwarted every enemy that so much as thought about assassinating you. sometimes, you get a little surprise served to you in a false pretense of health-restoring green tea.

“hold her down!” jimin’s voice clamors throughout the tent when you’d dropped the tea cup, letting it roll on the ground and hit his feet within the span of less than a minute. your throat sears as you begin to cough. splatters of blood dotting the porcelain white saucer.

“please! i had no choice!” leslie, the maid you’d grown fond to and brought along to serve you on the battlefield, pleaded from a few feet away, your men gripping her arms on both sides, “they have my son hostage- they said they’d kill him if i didn’t serve you the poison, your majesty!”

“pray tell,” jimin says through gritted teeth as leslie’s cries fall into a hushed silence as soon as he points his sword on the woman’s throat, “who are these fools that dare use cheap textbook tricks against the empress?”

“you have got,” you croak, in between chuckle and the burning sensation in your throat, “to stop calling me that.”

it takes a solid, defying moment of jimin’s back turned on your, his eyes probably drilling holes inside leslie’s weeping face before he sighs, shoulder line slacking as he sheathes his sword.

“send word to the royal wizard to come to the battlefield immediately and keep the traitor with the war prisoners until i decide how to extract information from her.” and with that, leslie’s shrill echoes into the sky from feet away as they dragged her out. you didn’t really notice when it stopped.

“go easy on her, will you? she didn’t ask to get her son kidnapped just because i chose her as my personal maid to escort me to war.” you’re almost certain that your words are slurred as you lean back against the cushioned chair brought here from the castle, not bothering to wipe off the ghastly sight of your bloodied chin and neck.

“you’re too kind for someone who’s wheezing for air in order to live.” the way his voice sounds closer and the fact that you feel his hands on your cheek serves as a reminder that the poison is kicking in - you didn’t even realize you have your eyes shut.

“look at me,” the general orders - you would have teased him about ordering the empress if not for the the furrowed brows, worry-contorted face of his, “stay awake and keep your eyes on me!”

it’s the way jimin’s voice rises that jolts your fluttering eyes to wakefulness. you can feel your lips twitching into a smirk, “you dare... raise your voice at the empress? come to think of it... it’s the first time...”

in the end, you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

when you come to, it was the darkened roof of the tent that greets you instead of the the familiar artful ceiling of your chambers. when you first moved into the royal chambers the color schemes felt far too bright and cheerful but a somberly realized how you longed for shades that aren’t black, red and amber like the fires on the torches that wave - laugh at your pathetic state. and perhaps, that was what helped fill your senses and you begin to hear the voices around you.

“lay back down, ___, you’re not fully healed yet.” jungkook is on your side in to no time, hand on your shoulder, coaxing.

you slip on the fresh embroidered royal jacket folded on the table next to the bed, consequently making him pull his hand away as you pretend like you didn’t see the flash of hurt cross over his eyes, “how long have i been out?”

“a few hours and quite frankly not enough time for your body to flush the poison out fully.” he gripes, brows coming together in distress.

“haven’t you heard, jungkook? one cannot have peace longer than the neighbor pleases,” you groan when the sensation of knives piercing every part of your body begin to spread through you. for one, wishful moment, you wanted to take back your words and slip into that stone-forged bed even if it meant waking up with a sore body tomorrow.

“you can’t go to war in that state either.” he steps in front of you, arms crossed over his chest. over the year, he’s gotten strict when it comes to you exerting yourself.

but you’re not a god damn empress for nothing.

you pat his shoulder, squeezing it tight enough to say, don’t worry. and walk past him, stopping just behind rainfly separating your private room from the larger quarter of the dome where your war ministers seem to be engaged in a heated discussion.

“it’s inevitable. we must ride at dawn,” sir huguard looks to jimin, “you must lead the army, general.”

“don’t be ridiculous! they’ll know something is up if we go to war without her majesty.” the son of the viscount had always been your loyal follower, “besides, the men fight better when the sovereign is there to give orders.”

“there is no doubt, the empress has been leading us to victory since the first war,” sir kim concurs with a heavy exhale, eyes scanning over the red dots on the map where the berserkers, archers and fighters are set to be positioned, “but we are the empress’ silver squires. it would be an insult to her majesty if we can’t even handle force such a tiny kingdom. what do you say, general park?”

jimin, upon having his name being called, lets a smirk slip onto his face, causing the knights to sit straighter, “i say we ask the empress herself - though personally, i know her majesty would never sit a war down even at the brink of death. you’re as stubborn as a mule, you know, your majesty?”

at that, you push the rainfly apart, meeting your ministers’ perplexed gazes one after the other. jungkook on your side.

“boys,” you grin, hands planted on both sides of your hips, “let’s give them a taste of hell.”

x

you won the war - naturally, you would win the war. but it wasn’t a one man show. the silver squires and jimin got your back all the way through the enemy’s fortress. the king of askana was a proud one. he didn’t beg for his life as your men forced him to his knees in front of you.

he had your respect. you’d made his death a quick one. made sure the ministers watched with their own eyes. so they knew not to play cheap tricks on you like poisons and kidnapping your maid’s son.

leslie was banished from the capital - you couldn’t save her beloved son. that’s what war does to people. to choose the greater interest of your men and sticking to the plan, knowing by then, they’d have figured she’d failed to kill you and killed her son.

but with every war you win, you can feel yourself losing the human part in you. so you turn to work even more.

“you could always segregate it, you know?” jungkook offers, falling into pace as you begin to make your way down the hall where footmen and guards bow, not batting an eye at the way you ungracefully tug on the low neckline of your dress. only when you are at war, are you free from the confines of these laces and layers of clothing, “jimin told me you’ve been hoarding the paperwork to yourself. it’s not healthy.”

“i chose to be empress so i should be a good one. segregating my work makes me feel out of touch with my line of obligations.” you say simply, noticing how the wizard’s shoulder line stiffens the way they would every time you mention your alleged willing choice. you ruffle your hair, as though it’ll rub away the nagging feeling in your stomach, “look i’ve already got jimin breathing down my neck about work. can we please, talk about something else?”

“well, sure if you’ve finally decided to change your career, we can always talk about datura, mandrakes and nightshades.”

“something besides magical herbs and my working too much.” you lament, head thrown back.

“your mother and sisters are doing fine,” he offers, “i visited them a week ago - they said nobles would come to the village just to see the empress’ family see why they’re not living with the empress. but of course, your mother’s reply always makes them leave with empty cups of teas and a sour face.”

“that sounds just like her.” you find yourself smiling at the thought of your mother’s catty comments when the nobles have finally used up all her patience to get what they can out of the savage-turned-royalty empress.

when the doors to your office swings open at your arrival, you’re half-surprised to see jimin, hunched over your desk underneath the piles of paperwork, trying to go through the wordings of one by one.

“speak of the devil.” your smile widens into an amused grin.

jimin prefers the battlefield compared to books and reading. when he sees you, a look of relief settles over his features before his eyebrows furrow, as though remembering something. he turns to the wizard next to you with full intention to place the blame on him depending on what answer said wizard gives him, “i thought you were going to convince her to take a day off.”

“no- well, yes- i was going to but we kept walking and talking and well - here we are.” jungkook fumbles with his words, choosing no sure route to take it when jimin’s hard stare is boring into him.

“you had one job and you failed.”the pressure at the end causes the wizard’s shoulder line to quiver.

over the year, jimin’s become quite the lieutenant general and a master an instilling fear into everyone he intends to.

you thought with the two’s long history, jungkook would be immune the way you are but seeing as he’s been coming and going what with his search for a herb that could once and for all drain out the dark magic inside you, you suppose he’s missed the parts where jimin adopted the name of the grim reaper around the castle.

“move, you’re in my seat.” you sigh, stepping forward and making sure to shield jungkook from the general’s sight.

luckily for you, jimin obliges. pushing the chair back and standing next to it with his arms clasped over his back, shoulder line straight and chin tilted the way a royal lieutenant general would stand.

“this is quite good, you got half of the things i needed to do, done.” you praise, not missing the proud smile twitching on his lips as you went over the replies he wrote for the diplomatic trade between the capital and askana. “though i wouldn’t say a straight out no to a future declaration of independence.”

and just like that, the smile drops into a hard frown. and because of the structure of his lips, it looks like he’s pouting heavily, “what do you mean? they’ve only been under our reign for five months and they’ve already had the audacity to ask for independence. it insults the essence of the sovereign - the young king could be beheaded for being so brazen.”

the son of the late king of askana whose life you took had taken the throne at a young age upon his father’s death. and just like his father, he had that spark in him. a mark of a true leader who isn’t afraid of going against an infamous sovereign.

you can’t help but suppress a smirk at the way jimin’s composure completely falling, almond eyes growing wide as he uses his hands to express his heightened displeasure towards the newly conquered country’s king, “and you propose bringing the head askana’s king to me and painting me a savage empress in the eyes of the world would do us good?”

at that, his lips clamp shut.

“as if the image of an empress who slays dragons aren’t daunting enough.” you add as an afterthought, glancing up at the other person in the room who’s been silently watching, “wouldn’t you say so, wise neighborhood wizard?”

“oh,” his eyes go wide at the word that he would often use years ago, as though not expecting to hear it, “well, yes. indeed, there is still a stigma going around a dragon slayer sovereign because of the unequal standings of powers and abilities to conquer lands.”

“your majesty,” jimin presses, the look he gives you almost makes you want to cower away in fear of a series of chiding but what he says next is completely unexpected, “your men are proud to serve such a strong sovereign like yourself. i ask you not to undermine yourself for the sake of appealing to mere cowards.”

“that’s, well,” you stammer for words, “quite deep, general. i was simply implying for you not go for askana’s king’s head, is all.”

with that, you begin to shift through the papers, cheeks burning from his raw honesty, devastatingly unaware of the wizard silently observing your interaction. not because he didn’t have anything to say, but because of the invisible line drawn over your desk between you and him.

it is sometime before the amber and orange rays of the sun peeks from the horizon, after a whole night of reviewing the documents and signing papers that needed your personal permissions, do you finally allow yourself to leave the walls of your office. your right arm is beginning to sore from the overuse - its condition have been deteriorating faster with every poison that entered your body, willingly or not.

yet you still find yourself in the throne room. the elven sword you’d managed to regain upon the siege sits over your head on the wall behind you. at times like these, when there were no guards or servants to watch you pathetically try to hold it with your right hand, do you let yourself curse and cry all at once.

the sword hits the ground with an clang, the echoes almost sounding like chortles of mockery.

when you try to pick it up, another hand covers yours that’s on the handle and you’re looking into the cosmos trapped inside a pair of eyes.

jungkook heaves out a sigh. gaze lowering to the luminous metal of the sword, “just hold on a little longer - i’ll find the cure and extract the dark magic from your body completely.”

“take your time - i still have several good years ahead of me.” you say yet you switch hands, your left one lifting the handle like it’s made of feather and sheathing it. your turn your back on him in an attempt to not let him see your puffed eyes and cheeks.

“does jimin know how bad it’s getting?” his question rings throughout the room.

“he doesn’t and i hope to keep it that way,” you shake your head, shoulder line falling.

after whole solid moment of the two of you basking in the silence out of having nothing to talk about, you finally break it, “i’m thinking of making him my marriage prospect - not the emperor but a husband. otherwise, the idea of being crown prince or princess would get over our child’s head.”

jungkook doesn’t say anything for the longest moment. you almost thought he apparated into thin air but you know he’s still here - you can feel his presence. 

“when i decided to love you - despite the prophecy, i decided to love you regardless of what you choose.” the zeal in his voice is missing and the fire in your heart rages.

the lower part of your untied robe fluttering as you twirl on your feet to face him. vision blurred with tear but you can still make out the outline of his rounded eyes and fallen jaw.

“i don’t want any of this!” the shrill of your scream tears through the high roof of the hall room. “can’t you see? all i did - it was because i couldn’t have you. i walked a slayer’s path because my mother wanted a part of her husband to live within me and when i finally found something i wanted - someone i thought i could spend my life with, that someone pushed the crown upon my hands. and i became the empress because you and the people wanted me to.”

you grip onto the silver carvings of the royal dragon that guards the throne.

“you and i both know we can’t be together,” he shakes his head, “dragon slayers and wizards are destined to walk alongside each other but cross the other’s path and a time of the fallen shall rise again - all i can do is continue to love you.”

it’s a prophecy as old as the world itself. yet wizards, especially, seem to have a knack for heeding fate’s alleged warnings.

“there have been dragon slayers and wizards before us - do you not think, if the world was going to fall into ruins, it would already have been, upon their unity?” you’ve never sounded so meek. so desperate, “why do we have to pay the price for a mere lore?”

 jungkook takes one step closer to you only to stop mid action. as though there’s an invisible line drawn between the throne and the aisle he stands on. “it’s easy for you to say - only us wizards are burdened with the oath our ancestors made with fate in exchange for knowledge - knowledge you can’t even comprehend, ___. if you saw the things i see in my dreams-” unlike two years ago, he shakes his head. teeth trapping his lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

this time, he can’t say it’s okay.

“and you have not seen what i saw in mine, jungkook.” you grit your teeth, “you haven’t been on the battlefield. fighting. driving your sword into someone’s son or daughter’s gut. these wars, the gruesome image that gets engraved in your head - they don’t go away.”

“we have our demons,” he tears his gaze from you to the ground, feet scuffing against the marble floor. as though he could see said demons crawling from the heat of your eyes if he continues to hold them, “we love each other so much but we have too many demons, ___.”

“that, we do.” you admit with a weary noise from the back of your throat, “do you think, if we’d eloped two years ago, we’d have less of those holding us back?”

“i can’t say for sure.” when he looks up, his eyes are brimming with tears, threatening to spill over and taint his flushed cheeks. “but perhaps, fate would have been kinder to us.”

“perhaps.” you echo, your own tears have already dried out.

jungkook bows, the sniffle escaping him shattering your heart. you want nothing more than to run to him and gather him in your arms. tell him it’s okay.

because your love and his was abundant.

but never enough.

(in the end, you find yourself in your throne, legs hugged to your chest, neck craned over your knees, falling asleep to the quietness before morning breaks.)

you still hear news of jungkook from time to time. he’s been traveling far and wide, aiding the needy, healing the weak with the light magic he’d obtained after a conquest with a group of companions he met along the way. that’s possibly one of the reasons that your image has gotten better throughout the empire. people who didn’t join the riot and know you personally, fear you less. you’ve been receiving more invitations to parties - even from the countries that supported the late emperor, not knowing that he was all-too-willing to hand over the throne to you.

and after a long, arduous series of pleading and begging from jimin, you finally segregate your work to your trusted ministries. with the surge of applications to join the royal army since the last five years, more captains have sworn their allegiance to you and subsequently, lifting jimin’s workload of training the recruits.

within that span of time, you’ve become legally married and closer than an empress and her war general. jimin smiles more now. though the years have molded his face with defined muscles and got rid of the baby fat, you still see the traces of the boyish knight you once fought alongside with in your younger days.

you train together from time to time, putting on a show for the new recruits.

“papa!” calista calls, seconds before her tiny figure escapes her governor’s hands and comes the pitter pattering towards jimin.

almost as though he sees nothing else but his daughter, he discards his sword to the ground, dropping on one knee to welcome the child into his arms. his chime-like chuckle fills the vicinity. you catch the lowest coo from some of the recruits watching from the sidelines - mostly the women whose attraction to your husband, doesn’t go unnoticed.

“’ista, what did i tell you about coming around here?” you sigh, sheathing your sword and gesturing for the colonels to continue the training.

“ask livie before i go anywhere near the training grounds.” calista mumbles, the pout no doubt inherited from her father while the fierce look in her eyes comes from you. even the deep ruby flecks of dark magic concentrated in her left eye that affected her since birth was from your blood. as a result, she never truly appears as though she understood why these rules were set out - even though you’d explained time and time again.

when you enter the hallway leading to the private royal wing with less prying eyes, you finally let a smile slip on your face. hand softly pinching calista’s cheeks. they remind you of jimin’s younger days.

“because...” you offer.

“it’s filled with weapons.” she mumbles out like a mantra but then she looks up, eyes bearing into you - you still need time to recover from the realization that the light in them once belong to you. “but mama, metal swords don’t hurt me! i have the scales of the dragons as skin!”

you’re about to contend that for the sake of arguing - with a four year old at that - before jimin’s chuckle reverberates against the walls,“she got you with that one, buttercup.”

he’d started calling you that on the first month after your engagement. when you brought him to the meadow of the aforementioned wildflowers blossom in full.

shooting jimin a warning gaze as to not show a difference in opinions, you finally relent when you notice your daughter’s observing gaze.

“for once, let me worry about you, ‘ista.” you let your shoulder line jolt as you cross your arms over your chest, your own pout forming on your lips.

it’s then, that you hear the rasp of a falcon and so does calista, confusing your human husband as both you and your daughter throw your gaze towards the artrium.

“what?” jimin asks a second before you raise your left hand up.

it takes another second for the falcon to land as calista squeals in delight at the majestic creature, tiny hands clapping in excitement.

“how have you been, orvelle?” you pat the bird’s head as it nuzzles into your touch, ignoring the jabs of needles from the slightest movement of your right arm.

“pretty birdy!” calista giggles, trying to stretch her whole body out of jimin’s arms to get to the falcon.

you chuckle, holding the domesticated bird closer once you untied the letter around its foot. 

jimin set your daughter down with the bird on the bed when you reached your chambers while you take a sit at the round table a few feet away where tea sets and sandwiches were laid out by the maids.

“it’s from jungkook,” you announce, though the purple ribbon tied around orvelle’s neck is already telling enough of the sender’s identity. but jimin simply nods, sipping on his tea while he throws his eyes over the balcony where the blue skies stretch as far as the eye can see. “he thinks he’s found the antidote to getting rid of the black magic my and calista’s blood streams.”

jimin’s lips twitches into a smirk - the kind of impressed smirk that’s reserved only for his wizard nemesis. “so he finally did it.”

“he’ll be returning with his companions within three weeks.” you set the letter down in exchange for the tea that’s going cold.

“he couldn’t just zap his way here?” jimin scoffs.

“well, he could but one of them is a lich - they’re susceptible to magic and can’t apparate.” you inform, having remembered the fact from one of his messages to you through orvelle.

that’s how you kept in touch. and somehow, you were able to find peace and bleed your apology through letters and receive the same amount of remorse from the wizard’s reply.

“what a bunch, he’s gathered.” the man across from you lets out a low chuckle, a somewhat proud smile adorning his lips.

then, he steals a glance at you, “what about you? are you going to be alright?”

you hum, setting the cup in the middle of the intricate golden-green tendrils that stretches around the edge of the saucer, “we’ve said our piece and kept in touch through letters. if anything, i’m excited for the three of us to gather again, aren’t you?”

looking up, you feel your chest lighten as you shoot a smile at the man. but his smiling lips has turned into a troubled pout. 

jimin pushes his hair back, those tresses falling back over his face perfectly. “i can’t say i am - not when my wife used to be in love with the wizard.”

the surprised look on your face must have been the reason for him to throw you an incredulous look, “come on, you didn’t think i’d welcome him with all smiles and hugs, do you?”

“jimin,” you say after a lingering gaze of your child’s pitter pattering form around the balcony as she tries to catch the bird hovering just inches from her fingers. eyebrows knitting together, you finally meet the aforementioned man’s gaze, “i had a child with you.”

“didn’t stop the empress of the west from taking five husbands at the same time.” he points out, almond shaped eyes going round with every heat the argument supplies, “nor did the king of kasken.”

the burst of laughter tumbles out of you from mouth like bells, so much so, you have to clasp a hand over your stomach while your husband mopes, clearly taking offense for you laughing over a serious concern - for him.

calista, having heard your fit, pads over and instantly gets picked up by you, setting her on your lap while she glances between you with confusion, “mama? papa?”

“’ista, what do you suggest we get papa for his birthday next month?” you smile down at your daughter.

“a birdie!” she claps, eyes sparkling with excitement.

“that’s what you want - we’ll get you a whole zoo, ‘ista, i promise.” you boop her nose, making her scrunch it, eyes blinking, smile glued to her lips as she throws her hand up in celebration of her birthday.

“now,” you sneak a peek at jimin’s pursed lips before averting your gaze to your child as you talk to her, “for papa, how about we conquer the winter kingdom? or slay a dragon and have uncle koo harvest its heart and turn it into an everlasting light source? or should we-”

“alright,” jimin huffs, elbows propped on his thighs as he pretends to cover his bashfulness with a cough, “enough with the discussion of showing your affection through extravagant gifts.”

“go give papa a kiss, ‘ista.” you whisper in your daughter’s ears before setting her down and watching as she pads her way around the table, hands stretching out for her blushing father who obliges anyway.

“i love you, papa.” the first hint of smile graces jimin’s lips when calista pecks him on his cheek, shoulder line vibrating from a suppressed chuckle.

you watch with a smirk of your own, how the spine-chilling general melts when his daughter comes into the world. 

“i don’t say it but me too, you know.” you murmur nonchalantly, taking a bite out of the sandwich.

and just like that, jimin’s pout returns, “’ista, papa is still sad because mama hasn’t said she loves me.”

“i-i do! i just said it.” you stammer in the presence of calista’s round eyes that’s boring into yours. if she’d gotten the fire from you, then she’d definitely gotten the puppy from jimin. 

your husband fakes a sniffle, chin rested on your daughter’s head so she couldn’t see the devilish smile that forms on his lips that he’s fixing you with. “you have to spell it out.”

“mama?” calista calls a second later of you eyeing jimin accusingly.

your shoulders sag as you relent, clearing your throat as you feel your cheeks burn, “i-i adore you - both of you.” you watch as calista’s round eyes continue staring, not quite equating adore with love but jimin’s eyes are already beginning to curve into crescent moons.

“i love you too.” jimin divulges, for a warlord, he’s never shy from expressing his feelings.

maybe that’s why it was easy to open your heart to him when you actually started looking away from the boy you grew up with started looking at the man you won’t mind growing old with.

“me too, mama!” calista jumps in her father’s lap, lips fixed into a grin, “i love you!”

[hold-our-destiny]

I saw someone do this and decided to do it too since i’ve read a lot of fics recently that deserve to be seen

i’ll be tagging the authors wherever i can, i dont know most of their tumblrs so feel free to tag them

A fic that you loved without knowing the source material: When my body wont hold me anymore (where will i go)- @madasthesea​

- When i read this i had not watched doctor strange yet this is perfect for tony’s grieving process and then the hope when he realises there might still be a chance

A fic with a premise that shouldnt work but does: Here comes the sun-  @motherkarizma​

- Okay so i read this a few weeks ago and it will be one of the only au’s i remember for years to come, this was purely amazing and with tony’s worry as peter struggles, it killed me. Hands down one of my favourite fics.

A fic you’ve read more than once: Danny boy- friendlyneighbourhoodirondad

- Ive read this too many times to count, it’s perfect in every way and the whump is amazing, along with the reveal and may being a badass, its perfect.

A fic you still remember many years later: You’re in my veins (and i cannot get you out)- @losingmymindtonight​

- this was one of the first fics ive read and it got me into the whump scene, i love it.

A comfort fic: Living Nightmare- @svn-f1ower​

- perfect scene from far from home, exactly what i expected and the hurt/comfort is amazing.

A cathartic fic: Somno- romanoff

- i read this a few days ago and its one of the stony fics i love, the perfect blend of fluff and whump, the protectiveness of steve and the perfect display of how the concussion is affecting tony.

A fic you’d print and put on your bookshelf: Mistakes- @yes-i-am-happyaspie​

- this is one of my favourite tropes, i love it completely and the guilt and regret of tony is amazing.

A fic you associate with a song: The parent test- madmonnette

- i cried along with tony while reading this, the bond between tony and peter is shown really well.

A fic that inspires you: Wired shut inside and out- @webtrinsic1122​

- this is a trope i love as well, i completely related to peter and when tony realises what he’s feeling it’s the perfect comfort fic.

A fic that brought you onboard a new ship: Peter and the jailbirds- beautifullights

- okay this is one of the best long fics ive read, i spent about three hours straight reading this and then i read it again. amazing whump and ptsd from peter. and the reunion of sam and steve was adorable. not my favourite ship but definitely cute.

A fic you wish could be a movie: Tennessee whiskey- Superstitious

- The best parkner fic i’ve read, perfect ending and Harley’s reaction to peter leaving was A+. Then Peter comes back and its just- so adorable.

A fic that lead to you being friends with the author: If youre going through hell, keep on going- @baloobird​

- Best child Peter fics, amazing display of ptsd and the comfort from tony as he slowly becomes more involved in peter’s life. also @baloobird​ is one of my best friends and i love her writing so much.

Free space: That’s what you call irony- nanerich

- fake dating au with parkner, amazing, adorable, full of fluff.

A fic you’ve gushed about irl: Hydra’s not a home- tempestaurora

- Purely amazing hydra Peter fic. Ive reread it so many times, its just perfect.

A fic you accosiate with a place: In the home- aloneintherain

- This is the perfect blend of hurt/comfort, the best ratio of whump to recovery, 100% would read again and i will always recommend this to anyone

A fic that made you gasp out loud: Take my heart, not my life- elephreak

-amazing evil obadiah and ross fic. love the guilt from tony and the flashbacks are just amazing.

A fic you found at the right time: Three seemingly small words- @yes-i-am-happyaspie​

- i read this a week ago, such an angsty fic, amazing concern from tony and the comfort from his amazing.

A fic that you would read a fic of: Hindsight- elephreak

- 100% the best May’s boyfriend fics ive read. I love the desperation you feel along with peter when he’s so close to getting away. Then tony not knowing how Peter got hurt, and the reveal at the end. 

A fic that made you laugh out loud: Creepy crawlies and peppermint allergies- @webtrinsic1122​

- amazing allergy whump fic. I laughed so hard when tony found out and they both finally got what they deserved. Peter’s need for comfort when he sees tony killed me.

A fic that you know a line (or two) from: i want to go- chvotic

-i cant express how well this was written, the distant feeling you know peter is feeling just kills you, and you see tony trying to comfort him as much as he can.

A fic that gave you butterflies: project pride- TheSleepingOwl

- One of the best coming out fics for peter, amazing in every way, especially with the display of internalised homophobia.

A fic that embodies something you value in life: Hope is the strongest power- sarayin

- I dont want to say too much about this fic but it’s so so good so please go read this. It’s amazing

A favourite au: Nothing is Impossible with you- Highqualitynot

- THESE SHIPS. MJ and HARLEY being BROS. Harley being a disaster gay over Peter. Oh my god this was amazing. please go read it, its so adorable.

A fic you stayed up too late to finish reading: round two- caraminha

-amazing comfort, in the time after the snap, after they got everyone back, peter has to go through the mutation again, one of the best switch ups from the normal fix-it au you see

A fic that made you feel seen: What’s In a serum?- purplestarfish  As well as Ace of hearts- @shadedrose01​

-first of all, amazing trans posativity between tony, steve and peter, and you still come out of the story loving scott.

-next, Perfect parkner fic, peter being insecure and harley being reassuring. i would read 50k words of this.

Tagging people to join in doing this: @romeoandjulietyouwish​ @baloobird​ @just-the-daydreamer​ along with anyone else who wants to do this

Please go read ALL of these fics, tag the authors if i havent. Thanks guys!

[svtshuastruck]

Octorber wrap up!

october was a wonderful reading month for me. with 23 books (i did read for 24h straight on halloween) and over 6,000 pages read, it would be an understatement to say that i'm pleased. i'll try to keep this as short and to the point as i can. thank you for stopping by to read this!

---

1. the silent voice (koe no katachi) vol 4-7 by Yoshitoki Ōima

ratings:⭐⭐⭐ (4th volume) ⭐⭐⭐ (5th volume) ⭐⭐⭐⭐ (6th volume) ⭐⭐⭐⭐ (7th volume)

i've written a separate post about the entire volumes of this manga and you can find it here. really enjoyed them!

2. spy x family vol 1 and 2 by Tatsuya Endo

rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ (both 1 and 2)

absolutely loved these two! it was a buddy read in a discord server and boy was this good. it is a dramatic comedy of a family which follows a tsundere spy father, a hitman mother and an esper kid and the kid is basically the only one knowing about the other two's occupation. hilarious manga and i can't wait to continue reading this!!

3. komi can't communicate vol 1 and 2 by Tomohito Oda

rating: ⭐⭐⭐ (vol 1) ⭐⭐⭐⭐ (vol 2)

rhbdnepifk 8 books here are mangas rbjdskwe but this was also a buddy read and i really enjoyed this. the chapters were a little too long for my liking but overall, a sweet and cute read!

4. ace of spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

this was the book club pick for sept for the crusty book club! you can find the review here. i will never be able to put all my thoughts into coherent sentences rjfsdnlc. 5 stars it was!

5. with the fire on high by elizabeth acevedo

rating: ⭐⭐⭐.75

so this book follows a teen mom in high school who has a passion for cooking and aspires to be a chef. the audiobook is fantastic ! it is narrated by the author herself and it's just *chef's kiss* this was my first book from this author and i will be checking out the others soon! (also i heard that the author narrates almost all her books so 👀)

6. the black veins by ashia monet

rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐.5

this was the book club pick for the vintage books and wine book club. i, for one, DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY THIS BOOK ISN'T TALKED ABOUT MORE. this book, is so good. like so gooooooodd !!

i need everyone to pick this up asap and fall in love with the found family aspect like 🛐 please.

this is book is about blythe, a sixteen year old guardian out of the 7 guardians. it is magical realism, found family trope, absolutely fucking loveable characters. i am adopting caspian and antonio (yes wylan, you're getting sibs). i cannot wait to discuss this book and omg pls just read it okay?

7. how we fall apart by katie zhao

rating: ⭐⭐

sigh this book was one of my most anticipated releases of 2021. the premise sounded so good. but it, unfortunately, did not work out for me. listen, it started off great-- the setting is slightly disturbing like you know something is off but you can't put your finger on it sorta vibes but as it continued it was-- no.

the "plot twist" at the end? i like to predict while reading mystery/thrillers and this was the kinda plot twist with like the culprit being the twin we never know existed and stuff (not a spoiler, just an example) like there was no freaking way the reader could have even thought that that person was the culprit. the characters were just flat.

i wish this book had been longer and the motives of the 4 were explored more but to conclude: this book wasn't it for me but if it intrigues you, maybe give it a try!

8. the atlas six by olivie blake

rating: ⭐⭐⭐.5

im just going to paste my goodreads review here cause it's past 12am and im tired ---

this was a buddy read (•ᴗ•) woohooo !! i have mixed feelings about this book. i definitely think i would like it more if i were to reread it. the very last portion of the book, i did not understand very well. there was so many things told to the reader that i was just like "huh" all the characters were fascinating to read about. i, obviously, had a fav and a least fav within the povs and characters. Libby and reina were my favs and Callum (oh Callum) was my least favorite the pacing was odd-- it did get better towards the end but still... odd. the philosophical theories and thoughts got pretty repetitive and it kinda made everything weird...? when i was reading it, it was kinda annoying how many times i would think about how much i would have enjoyed this book more if it had an editor. there were some things that didn't make sense. minor spoilers ahead for ex: there's a chapter in libby's pov and it ends with "tristan didn't move until after she was gone". how? how do we know that? that tristan didn't move after she was gone if we're reading from libby's pov? i really liked how the romance wasn't obvious. i was shipping two characters in the beginning and towards the end, i was shipping the same two characters with different people? if that makes any sense. the magic system.... is vague. i was--still am confused about how it works? i wish stuff had been described better. that brings me to: i heard this author's books are going to be published through v.e schwab's publishing company(?) and i'm looking forward to the edited version of her books. the book tries to be intelligent. and i can't say it actually ends up being intelligent. again, i wish stuff was described better. haha now i'm being repetitive--ironic.

im just gonna leave this here and might come back in the morning to edit this haha.

meme break: (more like pun break but oh well xD)

8. everything i never told you by celeste ng

this was a dnf so pretty bummed about that :/ i just wish tws and cws were properly mentioned. dnf at 50% please read all the tws before starting this here i started this on a whim just because i had heard a lot of things about it and while i did check the tws, the website i used did not mention one that i'm often bothered by and... that did not end well.

9. everyone's an aliebn when ur an aliebn too by jomny sun

rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

this is such a cute read!! i don't have a lot of things to say but i enjoyed it a lot [><]b

10. if we were villains by m.l rio

rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

this was the book club pick for the late night book club! this is eerie atmosphere + shakespeare + complicated relationships + murder. a perfect read for 2 am (i totally did not read it all through the night). this book follows our main character right after he is out of the prison and is met with the police officer who is super curious to know who exactly committed the murder and claims to know that our mc covered it up. and so, our theatre actor of an mc narrates the story in the form of a play. there are acts and scenes and a shit ton of shakespeare references.

an absolute classic, i'd argue, which fits perfectly into the dark academia category. i devoured this book in 7 or so hours and yes, it was read during the readathon xD. the pacing was a bit odd at times and i wish all the characters were shed light on equally but other than that, this book is amazing. i did figure out who would be killed and who killed them but the ride was so enjoyable, i had to give it a 4 star.

11. fangs by sarah andersen

rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

my god this is such a cute graphic novel?! i read on tapas and you can find that here. it is about a vampire who falls in love with a werewolf and just follows bits and pieces of their lives and it was the cutest things i've ever read.

12. a house in the cerulean sea by t.j clune

rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

this was supposed to be the book club read for the late night book club for the month of may but then the controversy happened and the liveshow was cancelled and the very bored, stuck on page 160 self put it down. i picked it up again in oct because i needed a physical book to read in school and because i read most of my books in their digital form, this was literally my only hope erdbg. i started enjoying it a lot more and sorta realised that i wasn't really in the mood for fantasy read back then haha. it was cute and fun while it lasted and maybe i'll pick up his other book. idk

13. a dowry of blood by s.t. gibson

rating: ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

LOVED THIS!! this is a retelling of dracula's wives and polyamorous and queer and just a-may-zing. our main character is unnamed and is referred to by the name her love interest aka dracula gave her and it is like addressed? in a way? to dracula himself. i read the audiobook. highly recommend. ALSO IT IS A NOVELLA SO HOW THE FUCK WAS SO MUCH FIT IN THERE IDK.

14. sheets by Brenna Thummler

rating: ⭐⭐⭐

it was cute. might pick up the next one but idk. art style is stunning tho.

15. the love hypothesis by ali hazelwood

rating: A WHOPPING 5 STARS WHAT ELSE WOULD YOU EXPECT ME TO RATE THIS SHIT??

IM NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO PUT THE SYNOPSIS INTO COHERENT WORDS BUT JUST READ THIS SHIT OH MY FUCKING GOD IT MADE ME SCREAM OUT LOUD LIKE A CRAZY PERSON AT 11:30 PM CAUSE I HAD TO FINISH THIS FOR A READATHON.

---

there we go. it's 1:30 am idk if i'm making sense but do i care: maybe. but do i ? :) oct was a pretty good reading month and i'll catch y'all in my next post okay? okay, bye i'm going to sleep now. and no there are no book pics cause i'm tired okay? bye now oh wait tags. right okay bye.

[keyofjetwolf]

Hi would you like some rage about She-Ra season 5?

If the answer is no, please don’t click below. For real. Really for real. I’m not looking to piss in anyone’s Cheerios. I think if you were satisfied (or better!) with the show, that’s fantastic and I envy you. As I have always said, love what you love. My opinion is mine and means precisely nothing beyond that. If you think you may be even a little bummed reading about how someone didn’t like it, skip this post and go on with your day, I promise you’re not missing anything worthwhile.

IN A SIMILAR VEIN: If -- before, during, or after reading -- you feel inclined to argue with me, I am begging you to please not. I cannot begin to tell you how much I don’t want to be argued with on this right now. I’m still extremely disappointed and cranky, and I’m not much in the mood to have a measured, reasoned debate about my feelings. Much as my opinion has no bearing on you, your opinion has no bearing on me, and as I’m giving you the option to opt out, I’d appreciate the same courtesy. If you want to write your own post on your own blog, go nuts! Just please leave me out of it. I PREFER TO BE CRANKY AT TELEVISION SHOWS THAN PEOPLE.

The rest of you, come on down. I don’t promise coherency, but I DO promise a lot of stuff said in all-caps!

---

Hello! Thank you for joining me! We watched the remaining few episodes of She-Ra last night! I hated them! Yaaay!

What did I hate? OH HO HO MANY THINGS FRIENDS MANY THINGS. It’s not just stuff from the final couple of episodes either, I want to clarify. It’s the entire final season, settling on last few episodes like the freshly fallen snow on your front lawn that some frat boys decide to pee their names into. By the time we’d gotten to these last episodes, there was really nothing left for me but confirmation of all the shit I’d come to hate. SO THANKS I GUESS FOR PROVING ME RIGHT

Which isn’t to say there was nothing to enjoy in the final episodes! There was!

5. She-Ra’s Triceps. GET BUFF GIRL. I LOVE how Adora and She-Ra look similar, but very much not identical. Adora’s no slouch when it comes to physical stuff, but they go the extra mile to show us how She-Ra is that much more. HOW RARELY DO YOU GET TO SEE A WOMAN WITH MUSCLES. I’ve been nothing but impressed by the ways the show drew the line between Adora and She-Ra, and however I felt about its handling of other elements, it didn’t let me down here.

4. Sometimes A Family Is A Twink, A Lizard, And Their Imp Baby. I don’t have further commentary on this, and I need none.

3. Welcome Home, Daddy. THIS WAS SO SPECTACULAR. Glimmer had, I would argue, the most realized arc in the story. It was so gratifying to see this as a culmination, not just of her own struggle with her magical power and ability to harness it, but her willingness to do what needs doing, however personally difficult. That was a stumbling point Angelica could never overcome, continually trying to micromanage and protect Glimmer rather than trusting her and recognizing her for the asset she was. Also though, more succinctly: YESSSS BITCH

2. A Shanty! THIS WHOLE SCENE WAS PERFECT NO NOTES. Just the right blend of silly and sincere, a genuine delight as even brainwashed Mermista had had enough of Sea Hawk’s shit, AND so much more clever than it seemed at first glance. THIS IS THE ONLY VALID HETEROSEXUAL RELATIONSHIP IN SHE-RA I AM NOT TAKING QUESTIONS AT THIS TIME

1. Shadow Weaver. SHADOW FUCKING WEAVER. What a complicated, fascinating character, bar none the most interesting in the entire series. I do think they pulled their punch right at the very end with her, but I AM capable of remembering I’m watching a kid’s show, so I can only get so disappointed about it. Mostly, she remained a beautifully morally complex character, and she was one of my greatest personal delights from beginning to end*.

(*) Boy did this show have one single solution for mommy issues though.

THAT WAS ABOUT IT. So let’s get to why we’re all really here, and that is MY SCREAMING OH MY GOD WHERE DO I BEGIN

Nah, I know exactly where to begin.

GLIMMER AND BO JESUS MCTRISKET I AM GOING TO EXPLODE AND SHOWER THE UNIVERSE IN THE SHRAPNEL OF MY HATE

WHY IS THIS HAPPENING

WHERE DID IT COME FROM

HOW CAN I SHOVE IT BACK IN THE HATEFUL SPEWHOLE THAT SIRED THIS BULLSHIT

WHY WHY IS THIS HERE WHY IS THIS IN MY FACE WHERE MY EYES HAVE TO SEE IT FUCK ME SIDEWAYS THIS IS THE MOST UNNECESSARY SHOEHORNED IN HET ROMANCE FUCK A DOODLE NONSENSE I HAVE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE TO BEAR WITNESS WHAT IS IT DOING IN THIS OTHERWISE EXPONENTIALLY GAY CARTOON

WERE YOU PANDERING TO THE STRAIGHTS

WHY ARE YOU PANDERING TO THE STRAIGHTS I ASSURE YOU WE ARE COVERED BOTH HISTORICALLY AND FICTIONALLY

ALSO NEED I REMIND YOU THAT YOU HAVE ALREADY ACHIEVED HETEROSEXUAL PERFECTION

NO MERMISTA NO WE ARE NOT ALL JUST LIKE OKAY WITH THIS

Oh my FUCKSTICKS, I could’ve rolled with so much more that angers/disappoints me about She-Ra’s ending if every single thing I feared about this hadn’t proved true.

AND. IT. WAS. SO. UNNECESSARY.

What exactly did pairing off Glimmer and Bo do for the story? For their characters? THIS IS THE PART THAT’S STABBING ME IN THE DELICATE WEBBING OF MY TOES. Because -- COME WITH ME A MOMENT SWEET ANGELS -- because I was under the impression that, oohhhh, I dunno, FRIENDSHIP WAS A HUGE FUCKING IMPORTANT PART OF THIS PASTEL HELLSCAPE

Is it, She-Ra? IS IT REALLY???? When not one but BOTH of your childhood friendship pairings end in romance? When you close out your five seasons with romantic relationships so painfully and specifically sown across the character landscape like an overzealous gardener turned loose on the world?

You know what you have at the end? DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID

THIS ISN’T A BEST FRIENDS SQUAD IT’S A DOUBLE DATE THAT NEVER MERCIFULLY ENDS

And again I ask, Why?? What was it about Glimmer and Bo’s relationship that needed them to become romantic? What was LACKING that this was the solution?

THIS IS WHAT MAKES ME LOSE MY GODDAMN SHITTING MIND I AM SO FUCKING DONE WITH THIS INSIPID MYOPIC TRASHBAG OF A CONCEPT

I believed She-Ra’s entire premise about friendship, I believed it wholeheartedly, and I’m so PISSED that at the close of day, narratively, it swept it all the bin. AND YES, YES IT DID, otherwise, WHY IS IT THERE. It serves no story-based need, it serves no character-based need, it has no NEED at all. So is it meant to be a “reward” to Bo and Glimmer for winning the war, as if their lifelong friendship were not reward enough? Is it meant to show they’ve walked through the flames and emerged with stronger, deeper bonds, because of course a relationship can only go SO deep without fucking. There’s no avenue to Romantic Relationship that doesn’t simultaneously point to something lacking in Platonic Relationship, AND I AM FURY PERSONIFIED

I am so tired of this. I’m SO TIRED of this.

And it didn’t need to be there. They didn’t even TRY to give us a good reason. That may be the part that makes me the angriest. Of COURSE they hook up romantically, of COURSE their platonic love would grow into “more”.

Fuck YOU, She-Ra. I thought you were better than that. YOU WERE SO CLOSE TO BETTER THAN THAT

THEN THERE WAS CATRA

I get it, I guess. I mean, I think it’s shittily written, but I GUESS. Honestly, end of day, I just don’t care about Catra enough to really get too angry about it, particularly when as I’m so fucking incendiary over something much more important to me. But it’s also the show’s greatest creative failure, and even if I HADN’T gotten angrier at other choices, it would’ve still cut its own legs out from under it.

Catra’s “redemption” was weak and sad and did a disservice to her and everyone involved. She started self-centered and shitty, and she ended just as self-centered and shitty, only we’re fine with that now. She learned nothing and changed nothing, but also nobody ever demanded it of her, so I can only lay so much at the character’s feet. The problem is ultimately creative, where I think Noelle Stevenson got lost in her own love of the character, and somewhere along the way forgot that if you take them out that far, you have to be willing to walk them the long road back. Compare to poor Glimmer, for fuck’s sake, whose greatest sin was being desperate enough to be manipulated by the character whose entire fucking DEAL is being THE manipulator. How much shit did she get for that? How long was she punished? Meanwhile Catra becomes THE Big Bad for a while, nearly unravels all of reality in a fit of supreme lesbian angst and self-pity, directly leads to the death of the planet’s ruling monarch who also happens to be GLITTER’S MUM and DIRECT FRIEND TO THE SHOW’S HEROES, but that’s fine, you did one sorta good thing one time and even though it was also wrapped in a thick film of self-pity and a final fuck-you at Adora, all is forgiven!

Speaking of, Adora suffers just as much from stunted growth. From the beginning, her thing was control, unable to free herself from the responsibility of everything and everyone. What did we have at the end? Adora as the only one who could save everything and everyone. Yeah, they kept asking what it was SHE wanted, BUT THEN SHE NEVER ACTUALLY GOT TO CHOOSE. NOT activating the failsafe wasn’t an option for her, and while she wound up not having to die to do it, even that wasn’t her choice in the end, it was Catra’s. (Don’t even get me started on her nth hour “You love me?” fuckery when it wasn’t once for one single second shown to be a question of such life-turning importance.)

All of which could be interesting! That Catra and Adora went through all this, came so far to wind up right where they started? AWESOME. LOVE IT. FUND IT. But really all that happens is nobody minds now that Catra’s a self-involved little shit and tee-hee another Best Friends Squad Mission being bullrushed by Adora within five minutes of ending the last one isn’t that funny?

I can’t even dig much enjoyment out of Adora and Catra as a trope subversion (if one of them was a male, their romantic involvement wouldn’t have even been a QUESTION), because the show lost its fucking mind with romantically pairing everybody off in the final five minutes. WHICH BRINGS ME RIGHT BACK TO MY PREVIOUS SCREAMING SO I’LL STOP THERE.

There was other stuff, of course. I think it was a TERRIBLE decision to spend the last season with the focus split between the two groups of rebels, and writing half the cast into brainwashing. I think the Nettossa and Spinnerella stuff was wasted and lacked any punch at all because the show for some reason or another couldn’t be bothered to let us spend any time with them to care. The waste of Scorpia and Mermista especially (to people named Jet Wolf who are me) was fucking CRIMINAL. Speaking of Scorpia, wouldn’t her showdown with Bo have been so much more poignant if they’d had really any kind of interaction before that moment to build from? (Sure, it’s Scorpia, so if you’re going to sell the lack of context with anyone it’s her, BUT ALSO.) Hey, remember Huntara? No? NEITHER DID THE SHOW.

All my details aside though, MY MANY MANY MANY DETAILS, what kills/rages me most about She-Ra was how so much potential from the first four seasons was just flushed away. Whether it was the creative team shooting itself in the foot or corporate pressure and rushing from Netflix, I don’t know. I don’t CARE. This is the show I was given, so this is the show I have, and that kind of fall after that kind of potential doesn’t just irritate me, it makes me SAD. I wouldn’t be this disappointed if I didn’t think it could have been -- WAS -- so much more.

Time will tell if I can separate out the final season from how much I loved those that came before it. I like to hope so, because I did love it intensely and loved whenever I got the chance to really dig in and talk about it.

WHATEVER ELSE I SUPPOSE I WILL ALWAYS HAVE THIS

Again please remember that I am not at present looking to argue or debate my feelings and opinions. I get to just be angry and disappointed, as a treat!

[rosesisupposes]

Other Half

hi i was haunted with the idea of subverting a soulmate trope after a chat with @potestessemagishomosexualitatis and it evolved in like a day on discord so here y’all go!

relationships: brotherly prinxiety, QPR moceit, romantic royality, implied/eventual anxceit

content tags: musician roman, techie/sound-guy Virgil, deaf Patton, QPRs, amatonormativity, soulmates & lack thereof, happy ending

word count: 2,847

read on ao3

Roman has half a soulmark, waiting to make skin contact with his Soulmate to finally be completed.

His brother, not so much.

Context: In this world, soulmates have half a symbol somewhere on their skin, each with one half. When soulmates have skin contact for the first time, both marks complete. The amatonormativity (prioritizing romantic love) is very strong, despite the fact that soulmates have frequently been platonic, not just romantic. It’s still a rather progressive idea, similar to gay marriage, and the traditions and stories are all centered around that romantic ideal. In that vein, some people have thirds or fourth of a mark would need to contact all their soulmates to have a complete mark. Marks are very much for One Person (or, occasionally, Two or Three Specific People), and so not everyone meets their mate. Not everyone has the means. They could be anywhere in the world! But unfortunately, there's still an idea that even if you're with a partner, you'd leave them if you met your soulmate, and that other relationship are just settling.

⁂

Enter two brothers.

Roman goes starry-eyed over stories of meet-cutes and surprise soulmates. He wants to know if he'll feel it, as his mark completes. Someday, when he meets his Someone™️!!!

And then his brother, Virgil.

Virgil... doesn't have a mark. He's not sure he's heard of that before. He has some freckles, but those fade with the seasons. Soulmarks don't fade.

Roman has half a circle, and it either has petals or rays around it. A flower or a sun, he thinks. It's right on his bicep, so he frequently goes sleeveless, and greets new people by taking both their hands in his every time. Just in case.

Lots of people do that- but it makes Virgil uncomfortable. Even if he knows he'll never be the one to trigger someone's mark, he hates knowing that's what everyone expects. He'd rather keep his hands to himself. He wears his big baggy hoodie to avoid the expectant stares of people looking for his mark, and avoids skin contact as much as he can.

They grow up in a family without a ton of resources, so neither can afford to take the 'Soul Year' some teens do where they travel before going into higher education. But Roman's determined that his career will help him meet hundreds, no, thousands of people, and he will find his soulmate!

Virgil really doesn't love the whole soulmate thing, the obsession with it, the constant reminder that he doesn’t have one and will never have one. But he does love his brother.

He tries, sometimes, to temper Roman's excitement just to make sure it doesn't hurt too much if he never finds The One. But mostly he just listens as Roman waxes poetic about his hypothetical love.

Roman, for several years, went silent, assuming Virgil wouldn't want to hear it. But Virgil has just kinda accepted it, you know? He's basically like everyone who never ends up meeting their mate, except he gets to skip the years of doubt and worry that their mate might suddenly appear at any time. He knows from the get-go. He’ll never have to look back with regret or sorrow, never have to worry about disrupted relationships, never need to mourn that his hypothetical mate might have died before he could meet them. It’s fine, really.

Roman becomes a singer and songwriter, and acts on the side. Virgil does his cover art and helps him with the sound-mixing. They're a great team - and they always have been.

Virgil makes friends with the roadies and techies, happy to leave Roman in the spotlight. He dates, sometimes. It's easier when they go on tour- a short international stay means no promises, no uncomfortable conversations about the future, no intrusive knowledge of a partner's Someone™️ out there.

After years of touring, Roman is internationally known and recognized. But he's also starting to lose hope.

He's lost count of all the meet-and-greets he's been to, how many hands he's grabbed from the stage into the crowd. He makes sure to at least high-five every roadie and tech, every opening act or announcer. His songs range from fantastical to domestic, from sweet and bubbly to sorrowful and yearning, and he loves creating, he does. But he knows there's someone out there for him, and he wants to meet them so, so badly.

They're in Paris for a show, and Virgil and Roman are strolling along the Seine. It's Spring, Roman's favorite time of year, and all the trees are in bloom. It looks like something out of a Hallmark movie.

Roman sighs heavily.

Virgil bumps him with an elbow. "Hey, no moping. That's my aesthetic, no stealing."

"Vee, what if I don't ever meet them?"

"Ro-"

"I know I should keep hoping, but- I've touched so many people and still haven't found them, what if I never will?"

"Then you'll be like most of us, Ro. Find love & companionship the new way: with hard work and dating apps."

Roman nods, but sighs again. "I just... really wanna, Vee." His voice is small, like a pouting kid. 

"I know. I hope you do."

They keep walking, but Roman's practically shuffling. On the one hand, he is a fucking drama queen.

On the other hand, Virgil wants him to feel better. 

Rolling his eyes, Virgil orders ice cream from a vendor in clumsy but serviceable French and presents Roman with his sprinkle-covered cone. Just like he knew it would, it perks him up immediately.

"Chocolate! My favorite!!"

"How are you possibly older than me. You are five."

"I just have childlike wonder, not a well of ennui!"

"Fuckin' dork."

"Edgy poser."

"Prima donna."

"Nerd."

Distracted, Roman walks straight into a man looking off at the river. He stumbles and trips and they both fall.

"Oh goodness gracious, forgive me, excusez moi, je suis desole! Pardonnez-moi!" he rattles off.

The man smiles, and his hands dance. Virgil realizes he's signing. Sorry, I didn't see you there!

 Luckily, Virgil understands it - he’s taken classes in ASL, just for kicks.

Roman knows very little sign, but he learned a couple of phrases. Sorry!

Virgil adds, It was our fault, we weren't watching.

Virgil recognizes the starry-eyed look on his brother's face. It's yet another Infatuation At First Sight, where he throws his whole heart into hoping. 

"Vee, Vee, ask him his name please?" he says, smiling for all he's worth at the curly-haired man in front of him.

Before Virgil gets a chance, he sees the man's eyes flick up and past them, and he breaks into a sunny smile. (Virgil might actually understand his brother's infatuation, for once)

Another person comes over, holding two ice creams. Virgil does a slight double-take. Like him, this newcomer chooses not to show very much skin. But they've covered even their hands. Ice cream somehow looks funny in a gloved hand.

Handing one to the first man, they start signing with one hand, far faster than he can follow. He catches a couple of signs he recognizes - gestures to himself & Roman, are you okay, something that either is we're late or shoo.

The first man is still smiling, though, and whatever he says must be okay, because the newcomer turns to them. They speak with a lilting accent, something not quite Parisian. "Please forgive my barging in- I can't exactly call for Patton from across the walkway.  My name is Dante. And you are?"

"I'm Roman, and this is Virgil, and it is wonderful to meet you!"

Virgil signs along with his brother's words, and sees Patton's eyes crinkle happily as he greets them both.

Roman has clearly also noticed Dante's gloves, but turns to Patton. With a slight bit of hesitation, he speaks and signs at once, "May I shake your hand?"

Virgil is sure he's not imagining the minute pursing of Dante's lips, but Patton's nodding and reaching out and so is Roman.

Roman is clearly holding his breath, and Virgil is too, both braced for opposite outcomes. But Patton's small, tan hand is wrapped in Roman's larger one and both sets of eyes are huge. 

Virgil's eyes flick to Roman's bicep, exposed as always, the white mark a stark contrast to his dark skin, looking like a sun or maybe a flower and-

"Holy shit-" Virgil breathes.

Roman, however, is not looking at his arm. He's staring directly into Patton's dark eyes with a smile that looks confused and elated all at once, and their hands haven't parted. 

Patton's eyes are just a huge, even huger thanks to his glasses.

"It's you," Roman says, wonder in his voice. Patton seems to read his lips, because he smiles somehow even bigger than before and signs It's you! back.

And sure enough, the mark on Roman's arm is a full circle, a full sun or flower, and Virgil's head is reeling.

Virgil's not sure what to say- the two soulmates seem content to keep staring and smiling and holding hands. But Virgil's just... nervous. Soulmate or not, this ‘Patton’ is a stranger, but Roman looks like he might never move from his side. Fuck, they can't even communicate both ways, Roman knows practically no sign and he just used up the only full sentence he’s ever learned.

He looks nervously at Patton's companion. Dante is staring too, seemingly unaware of the ice cream dripping down their glove.

Dante starts to sign something, realizes Patton can't see them, reaches out to tap Patton on the shoulder, then stops before they can touch, hand falling to their side. They look down and finally notice their ice cream, and blanch, pulling out napkins to clean their glove before it stains.

Virgil digs into his knapsack and pulls out a wet wipe and offers it. "This might help more."

Dante looks up, staring at Virgil without a shred of comprehension until Virgil waves the wipe once more. They take it with a quiet, "Merci."

They turn away, wiping off their glove and tossing the rest of their ice cream into the trash. They wiggle their fingers, clearly uncomfortable with the damp fabric. 

Virgil shifts awkwardly. He should say something, but what do you even say in this situation? He has no idea what their relation is to Pat- oh fuck, what if they were dating and Roman's just swooped in and ruined it?

In his tried-and-true method of awkward small talk with new roadies in new cities, he says, in French, "So, Paris, yeah? Know any good cafes near here?"

Dante shakes themself a bit and turns to look at Virgil. "Ah, yes. There's a patisserie just on the next block. Shall we relocate them and stop blocking the tourists?"

Virgil nods and looks over at his brother. He weighs his options of interruption, and decides on flicking Roman in the temple.

"Ow! Fuck! Vee!?!"

"You're blocking traffic, dumbass."

"I'm having a moment."

"Well come have a mocha. You can keep having your moment and I can have coffee. C'mon." 

He sees Dante signing to Patton too, explaining the plan but much more politely. Roman and Patton continue holding hands, but follow them down the block.

They get Roman and Patton sitting at a table in a picturesque cafe, and walk to the bar to order. Virgil orders his go-to of a double shot and gets Roman his mocha. Dante orders themself a latte and a vanilla cappuccino for Patton. Sitting at the bar waiting, Virgil looks over.

"So. That lunkhead over there is my brother."

Dante nods. "And Patton is my. Well. You might not know what it means, so don't immediately freak out, okay? But it's called a queerplatonic partner."

Virgil can feel the nervousness melt away. "Oh, phew. Yeah, I know what it means. So Roman's not homewrecking by being a discovered soulmate?"

"Well. I certainly hope not. But I know not everyone really, uh. Gets it. Especially with the soulmate sh- stuff. Things."

Virgil grins. "You were about to say soulmate shit, weren't you."

"...No."

"You're a terrible liar."

Dante winks. "I might surprise you."

Virgil raises an eyebrow. "Oh that's how we're gonna play it?"

"I don't play, monsieur. I just win."

"Okay then, here's a test. Why the gloves?"

Dante automatically goes to adjust them, and looks up at Virgil. Their eyes drift down to his hoodie and back up. "I think you know exactly why."

"You don't have-?"

"Nope. I don't have one either."

"I thought I was-"

"The only one?"

"Apparently not."

Virgil looks over at Patton, sitting with Roman. They don't seem to be even attempting to talk still, just staring and holding hands.

"With the QPP- are you aromantic? Do you think that's why?" He gestures vaguely at their whole body, but he’s never been quite as elegant in his gestures as Roman is.

Dante opens their mouth to speak, but stops, and sighs. "That's what I've been saying. It was easier, to say maybe this was for a purpose. And I do love Patton with all my platonic heart and I will kill your brother if he hurts him."

"The feeling’s mutual."

"But, no. I'm not fully aro. I still have romantic attraction and all that, I've just been guaranteed that even if I want it, I'll always be someone's secondary love so. Might as well lean in, right? Make the system work somewhat in my favor?"

Virgil opens his mouth to respond, to object, when the barista calls out their drinks, and then they're carefully carrying full mugs across the cafe and finding a table next to the couple.

Patton appears to be teaching Roman how to sign his name. Roman is even managing to pay attention.

"I get that, uh, reluctance. The playing-it-safe thing," Virgil says quietly, so only Dante can hear. "We travel a lot. That's a good excuse to avoid the whole fucking system. No conversations about who'll leave who when the mark shows up, because I'll be leaving in a month, tops. And people looking for hookups barely poke you to check for the mark before just... getting on with life. No expectations, no holding their breath or unrealistic disappointment."

Dante smiles weakly. "Well, good to know for when I need to start dating. I think I'm about to have a lot more free time."

"Until Roman needs to travel on again. We're here for three full weeks, but-"

"What is it you do, that you both travel so much?"

"You know Sun Prince, the singer?"

"Yeah?"

"You're looking at him," Virgil says wryly, tipping his head in Roman's direction.

Dante's eyes go wide. "Oh, that's why he looks familiar."

"So Patton probably didn’t recognize him either?"

"Nah, he tends to like EDM and electronic things the most, for the bassline. Clubbing with a deaf partner is great - the priority is just feeling the music, and we don't have to yell to hear each other."

Virgil and Dante continue to chat quietly on casual topics, but Virgil's leg is bouncing. He wants to ask the bigger questions, but it feel like prying. It's none of his business, really, right? 

But it's Roman's happiness on the line. And Virgil will do anything and everything to protect his brother. Even if it means awkwardness.

"So, uh. Did y'all have the Conversation™️ before now?"

Dante raises a questioning eyebrow in response.

"The 'what happens if he meets his soulmate' conversation. Don't tell me Pat's the only one you've ever dated?"

Dante blinks in a way that implies that were they a lesser being, they might have blushed. "Actually, he is. But yes, we've had that conversation. I'll never get in the way of Pat's romantic love and his soulmate… destiny, ou comme tu veux. I just want to still have a part in his life."

They're tugging at their gloves again, even though their face remains smooth. Virgil recognizes a nervous tic when he sees one. And god does he recognize the sentiment.

Not that any of his past partners had ever wanted to stick around in return. Why would they? He wasn't their soulmate. They hadn't decided to "settle" yet.

"I can't speak for him, but- I think Roman will be open to that," Virgil offers. "He loves performing, so we'll probably still be traveling a fair amount. But I mean. I think he'd understand that you two are a unit the same way me and him are. Like, yeah, we're brothers, but we've been each other's lifeline our whole lives, and that's not about to change. Even if he's finally found his Other Half."

Dante looks up gratefully. "I can tell you love him. And- I hope you're right."

"I should be. If Roman's a dick about it, I'll smack him upside the head."

That surprises a laugh out of Dante. They finally pull off their glove entirely, shaking it out and letting it dry on the table. "I won't interfere with them, you'll encourage Roman to not interfere with us. Do we have a deal, then?"

They offer their bare hand to shake. For once, Virgil doesn't hesitate, but takes it immediately.

Skin hits skin. Virgil finds an agreeable little shudder running down his spine as he appreciates for the first time how attractive this person is. Elegant chestnut curls, heterochromatic eyes that are dancing with delight, and disarming smile. 

Dante winks as they withdraw their hand. "What, not going to check for your completed mark now, just in case?"

Virgil grins back. "No, but I can help you look for yours later, if you want."

"Is that a proposition? Monsieur, goodness, you move fast," Dante replies, fluttering their eyelashes.

Virgil shrugs. "It could be one. You know, we're clearly gonna be around each other a lot. They found each other the old fashioned way. Maybe we could try something a bit... less traditional."

Dante smiles. "I'd like that a lot, Virgil. Should we break into cloud nine over there and ask them about the future now?"

Virgil nods. Soulmark or not, the future's looking pretty good.

tag list: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt ​@thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty @max-is-tired @almostoveranalyzed @hawthornshadow @mariniacipher and obligatory royality tag @notveryglittery and anxceit tag @vintage-squid

[alphaofdarkness]

not me here for the oc ask ! can't wait to answer the ones you asked me, tomorrow i have my exam and then i shall live again haha ! but now i'll ask you 1, 2, 17, 18, 19, 20 and 31 — i know, it is a lot ( you don't have to do them all 💕) , but i really want to know something more about your wonderful babies and Dany ofc ! I missed her sm during this semi-hiatus 🤧💕💕💕 hope you're doing fine, sending you lots of love 💞💕💘

@carmenio Edgy!! 🥺 so happy to hear from you! �� I love these kinds of asks, especially on my many, many OC babies! I hope these answers are good and interesting to thee! I’ll present more info on Dany to some way, some how cause I love her 😭💖

I have gone and included the other questions you asked as well! 🤗 Let’s dive in! 😳

1. Gone and Answered Here ! UwU

2. Do you have a personal favorite among your OCs?

Personal favorite is often shown in the one I draw the most lol, which for a long time was Danielle LWW, but just because she was also my wolfsona at the time. After I made my own personal one I think I went onto Sam for a good while, also eventually going to Dany from Bsd!

So a tie between two beautiful girls, Sam is definitely my favorite LWW Oc, she is just precious and the one I hold the most and most always feel terrible and bad when I put her through it TM. 

Also Dany is my self insert, U//w//U, she has definitely allowed me to slowly self love and allow me to appreciate myself, especially the parts of me I didn’t think to much about or consider so appealing, I think? She has definitely been changing gradually into more of myself since I first came up with her almost 2 years ago! Watch me slowly knock her down to my height of 4′9″, let her have her 3 inches for another year maybe lol.

My dearest Atsushi agrees lol ✨🐯

17. Any OC OTPs? 

👀 lol yesss~ so many and so many crack ships too, which I'll answer next 😂

I’ll just go on and list them off, plenty more of them but~:

DanyJay

SoraYama

LidiaTom

AlikLucy

IsabelleKayla

AlexanderIsabelle

DarkwolfmonJatomon

JatamonRaiwolfmon

EarthamonHounmon

HumaamonWolverimon

And lastly TakaSam is the one I have definitely drawn and thought of the most! They are the top OTP and just best trope of Childhood Friends to Lovers trope, also filling in that trope of Oblivious to both of them but everyone else 🙄. While SoraYama may have been the OG Couple in my story, my love and warmth for TakaSam is unmatched TwT.

It is wild cause I always draw anguish between them as could-have-been-lovers-had-it-not-been-for-death, but recently been drawing them purely happy and content. Total sweethearts, the love everyone wants, excluding possibility of being old friends or not!

18. Any OC crackships?

L o l, I never seem to focus on the main couples because of this specific thing.

I’ll again just go off in list an maybe add a trope or something to get an idea of them:

DanyYama: Rivals, Constantly arguing, and can be petty as heck, but oh the potential and just possibility of opening up after the traumaTM 👀 also the couple that is always in your face about being in a relationship.

DanySora: Sparing partners, the sass and stubbornness, BiPan solidarity 👀

DanyLidia: Pure, wholesome, best friends and so much hugging and lifting from the tol to smol, the nature love vibes

SamJay: Wholesome, soft, healing together from traumaTM, protectiveness, also their Digimon were lovers and married in their previous life, what does that make us? 😳

SamDany: Mostly sibling-like relationship, but damn they have that Sun and Moon tropes?! How can you not possibly ship them!

SamLula: Shy and Confident, Bisexual/Lesbian solidarity 💕✨

JaySora: Opposite of the DanyYama tropes, why are our partners constantly arguing, can they please stop, pure and soft together.

DanyTaka: Digimon Au specifically, Oh you and I are the voice of the revolution? We are rallying up the troops together? Oh boi my Digimon feels love for yours, am I falling for you or are we falling together? Depression buddies but also each others hope and spirit boost ;;w;;

Any of the Warriors with the Sins: A whole lo t of mess, and just not healthy ... but I can already seen fandom people sayin g otherwise~

LustWrath: Spicy, no strings attached kind of deal.

WrathEnvy: ...Oof um, not healthy, kind of manipulative, we are devils there is nothing but toxic vibes.

PrideWrath: Rulers, King and Queen vibes, Yeah we are toxic for each other, f*** off.

19. Introduce an OC that means a lot to you (and explain why)

Definitely Darkwolfmon! I am sure I explained in the first question why, but again I consider her to be that other half of me, the part of me I never discovered or the parts that essentially fill in the gaps within me. She is my precious partner Digimon and has honestly come a long, long way since I first created her. I believe sometime in 2009-2010, so almost 11-12 years since. She was the first ever OC of mine and is one I hold closest too in my heart.

For the longest time, even too now, I have always wanted her to just manifest at my side. Go on this journey of life together. While she might not be physically here like my child-self would want, she is still in my stories, my imagination, my inspirational drive. I think that is definitely more than enough, I don't know where or who I would be without having created her. I probably wouldn’t have a whole tale of OC’s and stories to tell if it wasn't for her. 

I am more than grateful and thankful that I am who I am because of this lovely Oc of mine. I can only hope to have her at my side for the rest of my days!

20. Do any of your OCs sing? If they sing, care to share more details (headcanon voice, what kind of songs they like etc)?

Most, if not all, my OC’s can sing! Their voices and tones vary, to which I cannot give a straight answer on how I headcanon most of their voices right now ^^; I will say that Danielle has a British accent to her voice as well as Spanish speak, and Sora has a Russian accent to her voice, so may be just lightly deep, but not to much.

I will definitely go with my Bsd Oc/Self Insert Danielle Mika Mason, however! Because I have gone and done a thing on how she would speak in her Japanese and English Dub! Other than me also being her voice, her Japanese VA would be Yui Ishikawa, same VA of the queen herself, Mikasa 💕 English VA would be Barrett Wilbert Weed, with an English accent, good Veronica from the Heathers! You can have a listen to her here in this post! 

Dany is meek when it comes to her singing, she will often be caught humming and softly singing something, but quickly tends to stop around others. She is often back and forth with how she sounds and often shuts down when she hears someone she considers better than her. She just needs some encouragement and a gentle push from someone she really cares about. When she does feel the push and genuineness from someone she will sing her heart out. But of course prefers to sing for only that one special person~ can ya guess~ 🐯

31.  Pick one OC of yours and explain what their tumblr blog would be like (what they reblog, layout, anything really).

Oh boi! I literally have moodboards to add to this! I pick Samantha, or Sam! 

She would totes have a Tumblr blog, and Instagram! You always look forward to see what she post and just feel an instant calmness and warmth when you see it! She is always tagging her things appropriately, a soft and warm spring like layout that is shades of yellows, golds, orange, white; an occasional blue and teal as well! She would reblog anything of her aesthetic, golds, yellows, dance and ballet related things (may even post videos or poses of herself in practice and dance related things), cafe shops, sweets and desserts, warm night lights, cats, lots and lots of cats and felines of all shapes and sizes! Her best friend/boyfriend, Takaru always cameos in her stories and posts 💖

She would also reblog or spread awareness of any issues happening in the world, marking them and making her own voice heard as well. In spur moments, you may see her not tag things, but will likely go back to name things accordingly. She would also reblog anything of Bi Pride too!

28. Your most dangerous OC? 

Hmmm,,, my most dangerous Oc, I am taking the notion that they are just plain dangerous and likely of evil intent in their actions. Because plenty of my Oc’s on their own are dangerous in their own right, such as the Legendary Wolf Warriors, who have a great power at their paws. They can be destructive in their actions if they lose control or use it for the wrong intentions, which they wouldn't do of their free will. 

I will say Danielle and Sam are the strongest of the seven, because of their powers of Darkness and Light, respectively. Their souls created the others, so the other Warrior’s power does not match theirs. They can definitely be lethal together if used for the wrong reasons or if they are under the control of a Human or Deadly Sin.

Which leads me to say that the most dangerous of my OC’s with the worst intentions and evil thought processes that makes them dangerous is likely the Deadly Soul Sin Pride, or Mikka Penelope King/Pride as her solid name goes. 

She is definitely the most sinister of the seven sins, even worse than Wrath, who you may figure would be the worst. She has a calculating mind and is very precise in her actions and ways of manipulation. She has a poison within her veins that is just as deadly, capable of blinding others or even killing without remorse or care. While she may be a ghost like entity in my stories, a person/digimon holder in my Digimon College Au, she has enough power to influence people to fall under pride and vanity in the most dangerous level possible, heck even possess them if she wishes. That makes her stronger, as well as the other sins. Does not matter if she is dead or fades away for a while, her influence remains and if it does, than she can exist for a long as she desires.

48. OC who is a perfect cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure

Lol I saw cinnamon roll and instantly had a list of ocs ready, honestly any child OC I have is instantly a cinnamon roll and to good and put for this world, please treat them all kindly!

Current top Oc’s that come to mind are Haruko Mason-Nakajima, along with their nameless sister/pup! They are the sweetest babies ever and love them so much. Too good and pure, especially nameless pup with her love for tigers; she wants to grow up and be like her sibling and papa 🥺🥰  You can see the post on them here!

Next up is my precious flamey boi named Alik Azure Mizuhara! A next gen. LWW, son of Sora and Yamato! A little sightless boi with the softest heart and warmest empathy for others. Very much like his mother in likeness and pure curiosity of the world’s secrets and tales. His father worries for him a lot, but gradually learns to trust in his ability to guide himself. Don’t worry too much about him, he is very smart and knows how to care and guide himself!

Thank you so much for the time and questions you asked me Edgy! I had so much fun with these and gave me a chance to gush about my dearest OC’s! I do hope you find them of interest! 🤗🥺🥰

May your day be beautiful and amazing!! 🥰✨💖

[svt-writers-club]

Ask games #5: 10 and 39 for Jicheol in Emotional Hurt/Comfort trope please and thank you 😊

the sudden influx of jicheol asks is making me think that my birthday came early and i’m living for this. hope you don’t mind that i slipped in a little iron man au here, because it’s been a while since i talked about those kooky bois and emotional hurt/comfort fits them so well

also hi! i know it’s been like a year since i wrote anything, but i’ve been going through some stuff. i’m better now, though! and i’ll be working on some stuff so hopefully i can add more to this blog!

#10. “You’ve… never really looked at me that way now, did you?”#39. “I never say it. But… I do appreciate it.”

Jihoon is dying.

He’s dying and he’s… he’s okay with that.

Well, not really okay. There’s no feasible way for a man to be completely content with death. But he’s… he’s adjusted. He’s known for two months now, so he’s been getting his affairs in order.

He’s trying to, at least.

He has a multi-billion dollar company to give to an heir, weapons that he can’t afford to leave lying around lest the government makes use of it and all his babies. His binary babies, like WooJI and Dokyeom. He can’t just give them away to anyone.

“Sir?” WooJI demurs. “Your heart rate is spiking again.”

Jihoon lets his head loll off the arm of his sofa. His workshop is a mess, half-complete inventions littering the vast work top. He can’t bring himself to finish anything, thoughts scattered between his impending demise and the lethargy the palladium poisoning brings.

“I’m fine,” Jihoon sighs. He shields his eyes with his forearm in a weak attempt to alleviate his killer headache. Between stressing over Wonwoo’s new armour and his babies, he’s at his wit’s end. For once, his brain is failing him.

High-pitched beeping has Jihoon shifting, squinting up at the camera he’d placed on Dokyeom’s head almost a decade ago. In its claw, there’s a dark green smoothie. It doesn’t even look like there’s oil in it this time.

“Did you make that yourself, buddy?” Jihoon murmurs. Dokyeom beeps an affirmative, attempting to press the smoothie into Jihoon’s hand again.

One of these days, Jihoon will have to tell Seokmin he named his dumbest and oldest bot after his high school nickname. One day. (Maybe he’ll do it in the goodbye videos he’s planning to make. His oldest friends deserve that much, he thinks.)

Dokyeom beeps insistently again. Jihoon takes the glass and, under the bot’s watchful camera, takes a sip. It’s disgusting, but in the way all health drinks are disgusting.

Jihoon forces a smile. “It’s good, dude. You did really well.”

Dokyeom does a happy little spin, even managing to show off the new treads WooJI had ordered for him. They fit him well. Jihoon makes sure to tell Dokyeon that he looks very handsome. (He doesn’t know when he’ll get another chance.)

“Sir?”

WooJI’s voice is lower, like he’s worried about Jihoon. He snorts. Only he would be able to program worry into an AI.

“I’m fine,” Jihoon reflexively says, as his chest twinges.

He stumbles over to the floor length mirror he had installed recently. He let Seungcheol believe it was for purely narcissistic reasons, but it’s actually so he can monitor the darkening veins creeping out from the arc reactor in his chest.

It looks worse. Darker, and more sinister. Like death himself has injected poison into Jihoon’s veins to claim him.

WooJI lets out a warning chime. “Seungcheol-ssi is heading into the basement.”

Jihoon lets out a heavy sigh that sticks in his throat, dropping the hem of his shirt.

God. Seungcheol.

What’s he going to do with him? His highly competent assistant, who’s been with him through work binges, playing around, Afghanistan and betrayals. The only man who makes his blood pressure rise that has nothing to do with anger or exasperation. Jihoon has been so careful to keep his messy life away from Seungcheol, but it’s all rushing together and he can’t keep up. For once in his life, he’s lagging behind, exactly when he doesn’t want it to.

The door slides open, Seungcheol’s feet exaggeratedly loud as he stomps to Jihoon’s work desk and slams a newspaper down onto the surface.

“What’s this?” Jihoon asks, trying to force some levity as he picks the newspaper up between two fingers. “This is a relic. People still read newspapers?”

Seungcheol jabs at the front page headline. “Only as long as people keep writing news!”

Iron Man Back To His Old Ways?

There’s a truly unflattering picture of Jihoon, fully clothed, floating on his back in a pool. Jihoon doesn’t quite remember when that was (these days, he tries his hardest to get drunk and stay drunk, in between trying medications), but Wonwoo can be seen on the edge of the pool, yelling at him. He thinks it might have been at the last weapons conference he’d attended. Jihoon tilts the newspaper; wow, the photographer really managed to highlight that one vein that pops out when Wonwoo is pissed.

“Keep a scan of this,” Jihoon says distractedly. “I want to email it to Wonwoo.”

“Right away, sir.”

“No,” Seungcheol says vehemently, snatching the paper out of Jihoon’s hands. “This is serious! You told me when you got the suit that you were going to change.”

“I did. I am changed.” Jihoon bites his tongue. He can’t tell Seungcheol about the palladium poisoning. It would do nothing but make him sad.

Seungcheol’s gaze makes him feel three inches tall. The vitriol in his voice is barely disguised as he enunciates, “Clearly.”

“Seungcheol-ssi.”

The scowl on Seungcheol’s face has no business being as gorgeous as it is now. Jihoon finds himself memorising the angle of Seungcheol’s lips, the exact curve of his frown and the colour of his lips.

Seungcheol takes a deep breath. “Yes, Jihoon-ssi?”

He clasps his hands politely, back straight. The perfect picture of professionalism. Jihoon could never match that, so he settles for running his fingers through his hair so it’s not that big of a mess.

Jihoon pulls out a folder from one of his drawers, the one that has been burning a hole in his mind since the first time he asked WooJI to get them printed. He had to do it old school – with papers, instead of electronically. Old-fashioned, but undeniably legitimate.

“If you could do me a favour and sign these,” Jihoon says casually.

He’d been hoping Seungcheol would just sign the papers, too annoyed with Jihoon about the PR disaster that he knowingly caused.

He should know better than to underestimate Seungcheol’s intelligence. He’s more than just a pretty face, after all.

Seungcheol makes a strange expression. “This is an employment contract,” he says slowly.

“Yeah. You know, bureaucratic bullshit.”

“This is an employment contract for being CEO of Lee Group.” Seungcheol pauses deliberately. “That’s your company.”

“It was my father’s company,” Jihoon snaps, before he can stop himself.

Seungcheol blinks, rearing back like a wounded animal. He slowly places the folder back on the table. “I can’t accept that. I’m not qualified.”

“You’ve handled my accounts from the moment I hired you as my personal assistant, and you’re basically running the company already.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows draw an angry V on his forehead. “So you’re, what, shunting all the boring stuff to me so you can – can fuck around and go back to your old ways?”

“No.” Jihoon takes a deep breath. “It’s because you’re competent and I’m not. I can’t run a company. I’m an engineer, not a business man. Do you understand?”

Seungcheol continues looking at him blankly.

“What is is this time?” Jihoon sighs.

“Nothing,” Seungcheol says. He’s still frowning. “You’ve… never really looked at me that way now, did you?”

“Like what?”

“Like… like you need me.”

Jihoon chokes on Dokyeom’s healthy shake. He coughs and coughs, even when his airway is clear and he can breathe just fine. He coughs because it’s so true, that he needs Seungcheol the way he needs to tinker in his workshop or the way he needs to breathe and it’s okay, he swears the tears are from nearly choking to death, nothing else –

“You’re a mess,” Seungcheol says helplessly, after Jihoon calms down and he can find the composure to dry the tears from his eyes. The warmth of his hands leave momentarily, but a cup of cold water is pressed to his hands.

Seungcheol’s touch is nice, especially where he’s running the back of Jihoon’s neck while he drinks his water.

“What would you do without me?” Seungcheol says, a hint of fondness in his voice.

Jihoon clings to it, remembers the exact timbre, the exact note. He wants to play it again and again, until it’s ingrained in the grooves of his brain even when he’s long gone.

“I would be infinitely worse off,” Jihoon says with a forced grin.

Seungcheol reaches for the folder, tapping it against the table top. “I’m shredding this.”

“No!” Jihoon clasps his hand over Seungcheol’s, squeezing lightly. “Just – sleep on it. Maybe it won’t look so bad in the morning. The benefits are killer.”

Seungcheol looks down at their joined hands. Then, he sighs. “Fine. I’ll sleep on it.” He bites his lip. “You get some sleep too. You’re looking more and more like a panda lately.”

Jihoon can’t sleep. He’ll sleep when he’s dead. He doesn’t have that many waking hours left. But the worried look in Seungcheol’s eyes has him saying, “Yeah, I’ll sleep.”

“Good.”

Seungcheol takes the folder and the newspaper, stopping to pet Dokyeom on the camera. The bot beeps happily, circling around Seungcheol quickly. Maybe Seungcheol and Wonwoo can have joint custody. Jihoon makes a mental note to update his will.

“Hey,” Jihoon calls out, right before Seungcheol crosses the threshold outside of his workshop.

Seungcheol pauses, looking over his shoulder with a questioning look.

“I never say it,” Jihoon says, “but… I do appreciate it.”

Seungcheol’s smile is as confused as it is beautiful. Jihoon wishes he was an artist, so he could paint Seungcheol the way he looks now.

“Appreciate what?”

“Everything.” Jihoon clears his throat, turning to his holo screens. “That you do for me, I mean.”

He can’t bring himself to look at Seungcheol. It feels too raw – like something he never should have said. But it’s out there now, so he can’t take it back. Because it’s true.

It’s true that Jihoon appreciates him and he wants to tell him, but there are so many words that he can’t put them together. So he’ll give him his company and set him up for life, because Seungcheol is competent and beautiful and he’ll be just fine without Jihoon.

“Thank you,” Seungcheol says softly. “And… I appreciate too.” Before Jihoon can fool himself, Seungcheol continues, “You’re a great boss, Jihoon-ssi.”

Jihoon smiles – a fake, plastic smile he reserves for cameras. “And you’ll be a wonderful CEO, Seungcheol-ssi.”

Jihoon sits in silence for a while, staring at Wonwoo’s suit schematics blankly. He feels regret. He feels empty. There’s so much that needs to be done before his time is up.

“WooJI?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Start recording me. End of The World Protocol.”

“As you wish, sir. Who would you like to start with?”

Jihoon thinks – really thinks. He reaches out for the trophy Seungcheol had stubbornly left for him, the day after he’d called the arc reactor that got him out of Afghanistan obsolete.

“Choi Seungcheol.”

Feel free to ask me more of these ship asks here!

[artemisa97]

Okaaaay, for the tropes mashup. Detective/Criminal x the big damn kiss. Petopher, please

Well, I was supposed to post another one first, but this idea really inspired me and I just had to write it. I’m actually going to post this one in ao3, so if you have an account I can gift it to you. Hope you like it!

Thanks to @rhysiana for being my beta, this fic would have been way worst without her, xD

WARNING: There is several references to an abusive relationship, but it doesn’t go in deep and it’s not Petopher.

00

Detective/Criminal + The Big Damn Kiss

Peter Hale is a criminal, and Chris hates him. He’s been hunting the man his whole career, and had been close to taking him down a number of times, only for everything to go to Hell at the last minute. Hale is too cunning, too resourceful, too well-connected. Trapping him is like grabbing a handful of sand: possible, but, at the end of the day, futile.

Today, he has finally taken him down.

And now, talking to his superior, he can feel the sand slipping between his fingers, trickling down his closed fist.

“With all due respect,” he says. “I’ve been hunting Peter Hale for two decades, I know him. He’s a con artist and a thief, he commits several crimes a day, and there is no chance of him ever reforming. We can’t allow him to go free.”

“Maybe,” says Stilinski, tired. “But he has information on the Benefactor, information he won’t share unless we give him a full pardon.”

Chris wants to scream. He doesn’t. The Benefactor, who may not even be one person, runs a powerful network, mercenaries and hitmen ready to murder anyone on their way. It is, of course, a far more important target than a man that steals diamonds and pretty paintings, no matter how infuriating that particular man is. It’s the right thing to do, an amazing deal to make, but Chris is still frustrated. He’ll have to see Peter’s smug face while taking off his handcuffs, silently pointing out that, even in defeat, he has still won.

―

Peter Hale is a criminal, and Chris is in love with him. He would love to say that he doesn’t know when or why he fell, but it would be a lie. It happened at a party where Chris was undercover, working on another case. Peter had been there by virtue of his criminal connections and general charm, and most eyes in the room were focused on him. He wasn’t wearing a shirt under the suit jacket and his chest glistened with sweat and alcohol.

Peter had come around and started to talk to him, hands on his arm, eyes shining with mischief, flirtations blatant. He was smart, charming, fascinating, and could make Chris laugh against his will. They only spoke for half an hour or so, but when Chris was about to go do his actual job, Peter had taken a pen out of his pocket and written his number down on Chris’s arm. From his elbow to his wrist, following the vein.

“I won’t leave for hours, come find me when you’re done,” he had said, beautiful smile on his full lips, before kissing his cheek.

Chris’ team had arrested their target an hour later, ruining the party. When he got out of the building, ready to go home, Peter was there, waiting against the wall.

“You have to know I’m a cop now,” he had said, because he had felt Peter’s eyes on him during the arrest, seeing through his cover.

“Now?” Peter had asked, arching an eyebrow. “This is why you’ll never catch me, Christopher, you keep underestimating me.”

Peter knew who he was. He knew Chris was the one chasing him.

“Were you taunting me, then? Laughing at me?”

“No, but I couldn’t miss the chance of actually talking to you,” he had said, smiling and getting closer to him. “It’s not every day you get to flirt with the possibility of your own downfall.”

“It’s not just a possibility. I’ll catch you soon.”

“Perhaps.” And his eyes were shiny and amused, an invigorating challenge. “In the meantime, you have my number. Don’t hesitate to use it.”

Peter Hale was a criminal, and yet he had kissed Chris’s cheek again, close to the corner of his lips, before turning around and disappearing in the streets of New York. He had stolen his heart in the process, but well. He was just that good of a thief.

―

Peter Hale is a criminal, but there are worse monsters out there. That’s why Chris has to pretend to be his partner in crime while meeting with his contact with the Benefactor, as protection. They need him alive for trial and Chris knows he will take a bullet for the thief, as much as it pains him.

“Who’s your friend?” asks the woman. The Desert Wolf, one of the most wanted people in the country, maybe even the world. Peter calls her Corinne.

“My partner in this heist. He’s the one that knows how to break through the security of the museum. You’ll need him to get in and kill the security guard.”

The woman looks at Chris and she’s clearly derisive, huffing and making a gesture he would translate as “really?” She hates him, for some reason. Chris hates her too, for several.

“I thought you would be smart enough not to bring your boy toy to this meeting, darling.”

“I see no boys here,” Peter says, arching an eyebrow. “And don’t jump to conclusions, we’re here on business.”

“Please, I know your type,” she snaps, showing her teeth like a feral animal. Then she turns to Chris, venom dripping from her mouth and eyes, toxic as Chernobyl. “He does love people who can hurt him, so don’t be afraid to make him scream. It’s always so sweet when he does.”

Chris is about to shoot that woman in the face when Peter’s hand closes around his wrist, soft but present.

“Well, what’s the fun in being with people who can’t take you down? I like to be on equal footing, not that you would understand that.”

“We’ve never been on equal footing,” she laughs.

“Your legs made up for your stupidity,” snaps Peter. “Now stop playing around.”

“Come on, Peter,” she says, smile sweet and even more terrifying. “You knew from the beginning I won’t work with you, not after you ran away with my half of the loot.”

“I like to think of that as repayment.”

“I like to think of that as your death sentence,” she says, and shoots Peter in the chest.

Chris isn’t fast enough to do anything about it and his heart is breaking into pieces while he lifts his gun and shoots her. She’s good, fast enough to take cover under the desk, but he hits her in the shoulder and reinforcements are kicking the door down.

Leaving her to them, he drags Peter’s body behind a column and opens his jacket to check the wound.

“You should buy me dinner first,” says Peter, groaning.

Chris doesn’t answer, he’s too relieved at seeing the bulletproof vest.

“Smart,” he says.

“Always,” smiles Peter, letting his head hit the ground. “It still hurts like a bitch, in case you want to kiss it better.”

Chris wants to kiss Peter more than he wants to breathe, but he doesn’t.

“I’m on the clock,” he says, and goes to help the team take down Corinne.

He gets to shoot her in the hip next right before one of his colleagues tackles her to the ground and handcuffs her. It’s very satisfying.

―

Peter Hale is a free man, but Chris knows he’s still a criminal at heart. When he opens the door of his apartment and sees him standing there with a bottle of wine, he shouldn’t be happy.

“You are not on the clock anymore,” says Peter, and his smile is the most beautiful thing Chris has ever seen. He lets him in.

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, the trial is finally over,” he says, shamelessly going through Chris’s kitchen cabinets until he finds appropriate wine glasses. “I thought we should toast Corinne’s new short-term address.”

It’s been almost a year since they arrested her, but justice moves slow. Chris hasn’t seen Peter outside of court since that day, and he has missed him like a limb.

“Do you think she’s going to escape?”

“They’ll kill her in prison,” he says, handing him a glass. “She has too many enemies to survive in there.”

“You seem happy about it.”

“Well, she did shoot me twice.”

“Twice?” he asks, and has to stop himself from going after her and shooting her again. In the head.

“If you’re really, really good, I’ll let you see the scar,” says Peter, eyes shining with mischief.

Chris has no answer for that; he has no answer for anything at all, since his throat has dried like an old bone. He sips the wine. It’s excellent. Peter wouldn’t buy anything but the best.

“So what’s in your future now? Going back to a life of crime?”

Peter laughs at that, shaking his head fondly.

“Come on, Christopher. I publicly went up against the Benefactor and collaborated with the police, no one in the criminal world will want anything to do with me. No, I’m going straight. As much as I could ever be straight, naturally,” he smirks, touching Chris’s shoulder with intent. “I already have offers from several insurance companies that know how good I am at what I do. And a book deal, of course.”

“A book deal?” askes Chris, and he doesn’t know why on Earth he’s surprised. God, Peter is just… so fucking Peter.

“Don’t worry, I’ll change your name. I was thinking of Alistair Cross.”

“Don’t dare you.”

“I mean, you could always convince me otherwise,” he says, lips brushing the shell of Chris’s ear.

“Could I?

“If you want to… and I’m pretty sure you do.”

“You’re a criminal,” he says, but without fighting Peter’s soft touch.

“And you’re a cop. It’s a bit kinky, but then again, so am I.”

“You are?” he asks, drinking more wine. His ears are blushing, he can feel them radiating heat.

“Of course. And you, Christopher, play my competence kink like a fiddle.”

He coughs. The apartment is too hot, all of the sudden.

“It took me decades to catch you.”

“I know,” moans Peter, lips brushing against the heated skin, voice a whisper. “And every second of it was thrilling.”

“Was it, now?” he asks, from very far away. Chris doesn’t know how it is possible, because he’s pretty sure his brain just shut down indefinitely.

“I told you, I like to be on equal footing. And you, Christopher, kept me on my toes at every turn. You don’t know how hot it is, knowing that you’re good enough to bring me down.”

“That is kinky.”

Peter laughs. Chris melts against him, because he’s only human.

“I like to look at it this way: you can bring me down and I can bring you down; but if we don’t, if we have the power to do so and choose not to just because being together is more fun…” He trails off, biting Chris’ earlobe. “Well, you can’t tell me that it isn’t hot as fuck.”

Chris kisses him. Grabs him by the neck and kisses him like it’s a battle, like he’s starving. Chris has spent years dreaming about how good it would be and yet his imagination pales in comparison with real deal, with the ambrosia that is Peter’s smart mouth.

They’re breathless when they separate, and Peter has a look between shocked and blissed out that immediately becomes Chris favorite thing in the world. He wants to dedicate every second of the rest of his life to making that expression appear.

“Stealing kisses, Christopher?” Peter asks, laughing against his throat, nibbling at his jaw.

“You must be rubbing off on me,” jokes Chris, his hand pulling Peter’s hair to get their mouths close again.

“Sounds like a plan,” Peter smirks, and kisses him.

Peter Hale will always be criminal, in a way, as he is a lot of things. But to Chris, Peter is more than that: he’s everything.