#this is just a drabble to kick my muse back into shape

[tsuyalovebot]

collared.

pairing: xia yi zhou / caleb x reader (love and deepspace)

cws: MDNI and ageless blogs will be blocked. suggestive. caleb is kind of unhinged, lowkey kind of condescending while teasing. mc=reader. casual touches (knee, thigh, face). reader uses makeup. he puts his thumb in your mouth. pet names (pipsqueak, pretty). basically caleb-typical warnings.

wc: 2.1k (this was supposed to be a drabble. help.)

author's note: he occupies my brain too much. pussy inspection piece coming soon just trust .｡.:*☆

Caleb's a patient man. That's what he likes to think. Despite the amount of times he's had to expound on his cruelty and dichotomy as Farspace Colonel, he likes to think it hasn't truly changed him from his observational nature. That he's still the same boy in some sense. To watch and give commentary, grinning lazily and all.

You're really, really testing him though.

"Caleb," you repeat his name, annoyance in your tone. "You're not listening."

"I am, though?" He muses, stirring the pot of fragrant, ginger chicken congee with one hand. He looks at you, who's seated on the countertop beside the stove, kicking your legs out while watching him cook.

"Nuh-uh."

"Uh-huh. You doubtin' me, pipsqueak? I'll have you know, I scored very, very high on the fleet's physical assessment on training our senses." Caleb teases, turning back to the pot. He takes the bowl of shredded chicken, adding it into the congee and stirring while you pout.

"You're hearing me, but you're not listening. What was I talking about, huh?" You insist with a frown. You've got his clothes on—a fact that's kind of, sort of itching at his brain in some way, shape, or form. He tries to not think about it. You're only in them because you spilled your drink on your dress earlier. And, who would he be to not offer you a change of clothes?

Prior to this, he'd given you a shirt and pants in your size. Said he bought them for you whenever you'd come over to Skyhaven and his place. Much to his surprise however, while you appreciated his kindness (even though you also called him weird), you still padded off to his room to steal his clothes. Which is why you're here now, in some graphic t-shirt that's a size or three too big on you and shorts.

Caleb is a patient man. He repeats this to himself like a mantra. Maybe he could gaslight himself into believing this.

"You were telling me about one of your colleagues from the Association. How he was impeding you from doing your patrol because he kept flirting, right?"

You blink, mollified. He finds your slackened expression cute, smiling as he lowers the heat on the stove. The congee bubbles, the fragrance potent. "Hmm. I should take a picture of you."

Just as he pulls out his phone to feign snapping a shot, you swat at his hand. He laughs, shaking his head at your antics.

"Okay, so you were listening," you admit. Sheepish, a faint flush to your cheeks.

He nods with a little smile. "Yep. You gonna keep going?"

"Mm. So, as I was saying���"

You're really cute sometimes. He wonders if you know that too, because there's been so many instances of him wanting to squish your face in his palms. Feel the soft pudge against his hands, drag the rough skin of his fingers over your eyelids and the cartilage of your ears, the bone of your nose bridge like one would admire a caricature beyond their comprehension.

There's something novel in seeing you come over. It feels like old times, when he'd just departed from Josephine's place and you'd come over to his place and loiter. You'd grin as you raided his house of snacks, declaring this and that as yours. Obviously, those were yours. Why do you think he always seemed to be restocked in your favorite snacks when you'd come over?

But it's more than simple visits now. You've begun incorporating yourself into his house. It's becoming a home now, with every hairtie he finds on the carpet or tube of lipgloss left in the bathroom. You've begun leaving your clothes for him to wash, which he doesn't really mind. How could he, when he gets to run his fingers over the cloth you've worn and marvel at its softness despite the washed out color—how it's probably been with you and seen you in worse states than he ever has in your entire life?

You left your eyelash curler once and complained over the phone how your makeup bag keeps eating your stuff. When he said you'd left it at his place, you decided the best possible solution wasn't to swing by one day and take it during a regular visit. You resolved to stay for a week in Skyhaven with him since so much of your stuff was with him.

"I can just use my vacation now and let the Association know I'm on leave," you had said, your voice carried through the speaker. "Do you guys have that at the fleet? Vacations? You should take yours, as well."

Caleb had been bulldozing through reports at the time, lifting a page of some lackluster maintenance report on a couple of vessels. It didn't even look properly done—seemed he had a lot of work to do if he wanted to correct the conduct of the other fleets.

But, with the most playful and assuring tone ever, he had replied with, "Oh, we got those too. I'll use mine. That way, we can spend it together, yeah?"

Funny, how paid vacation was not, in fact, a thing.

Now, he's here with you and he could get used to this. His space being yours, yours being his. A mutualism, reciprocity built on benefit and comfort. It doesn't hold the same familiarity of the past with regards to atmosphere, but it's changed. New, developed on this blossoming relationship of seeking answers but also caring so deeply for each other.

"Caleb," you say his name with such disdain it snaps him out of his thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"You're not listening, again." You're scowling when he tears his gaze from the pot of congee. He reaches over and smooths out the little furrow of your brow and you let him. He smiles a bit.

"I am, I promise."

You shake your head. "No, you're not."

You reach over and pull on his dog tag. Hard. It surprises him, and he stumbles closer to your form. He looks at you, eyes wide.

You rarely initiated physical contact with him. Sometimes, he'd be blessed to have you jump on his back the way you always did. Maybe even feel grateful to feel your knuckles brush his wrist when reaching for utensils at the dinner table. But there's always a barrier, some sorr of invisible force that polarizes your forms and keeps you away from one another.

Yet here you aware, scowling so harshly he thought he made a grave misdeed that went beyond zoning out. Your finger looped into his necklace, demanding his attention. You're like a petulant child with your cheeks puffed up like this. It brings him back.

But it doesn't really bring back that signature brotherly attitude of his. Something else licks at the base of his spine. Something a bit darker, more subtle but nevertheless present.

Caleb can't help himself, smiling. A bit too giddy, slightly cheeky. You probably catch sight of it—you know him too well—and it probably aggravates you further, so you tug him again, by that necklace.

"Ah-ah," Caleb tuts, lifting his hand to gently wrap around your wrist. "Careful. You might break it."

Watching how your eyes flit down to the sight of his fingers winding around your skin, feeling the way your breaths stall at the sight. Hmm? He smiles a bit wider. He files away that knowledge for later.

Caleb relents at your tugs, though. Really, how could he ever deny you? Like an obedient dog, he moves, turning the stove off with one hand and snaking his way to be between your knees. His free hand placing itself on the countertop outside your knee, giving you his undivided attention.

You're a bit shy now despite getting what you wanted. Blinking at him like a deer caught in headlights as you hold onto the chain with your index finger. He could bite you, sink his teeth into your shoulder, and you would probably let him. Maybe even slip that neckline a bit lower for easier access, card your fingers through his hair.

You're spoiled rotten, and he wouldn't have you any other way. The product of his affections, the consequence of his actions.

"C'mon. I'm sorry for not actively responding, yeah?" Caleb coos, leaning in and subtly watching the flush color your skin. Careful to say actively responding, not listening. "You know I tend to focus too much when cooking. You got my attention now, though. Wanna keep going?"

You open your mouth, then close it again. He places his hand on your bare knee, watching in real time as you bluescreen, gaze darting.

Ah, he muses, his supposed patience waning. You make this too easy.

"Oh, I get it now. It wasn't that, was it? You just needed a bit of Caleb's attention, didn't you?" He drags his hand up, lets it hold your thigh. Gives it an experimental squeeze and observes your expression flicker between something akin to delight and mortification.

Maybe the mortification comes with him cornering you like this, even though you started. Or maybe you're coming to terms with the fact that you need him like he needs you. He'd hope that's the case. God, he'd love it if that were the case.

You stammer over your next words. Doesn't matter, he didn't hear it. Not over the sound of something like wedding bells in his head as he leaned in further. Deducting the space between you two, further enraptured by how all your thoughts seem to fizzle out at his proximity. His other hand, still holding your wrist, drops down to the counter.

"My attention is always yours, you know that, right?" He rubs his thumb into the softness of your inner thigh, tilting his head with a boyish smirk. It's playing at the corner of his mouth, and he has to stop himself from pouncing when you look at his lips too. "You don't gotta be rude, tugging me around. Have some manners."

And, like clockwork, his other hand comes up. In time with the gentle, swooping motions of his thumb on your thigh, he holds your chin. Lets you tilt your head up a bit, moves your head side to side lightly. He tests your pliancy and is pleased with his findings. You're slack, clay in his palms and he finds that he doesn't need to put you on a spinning plate to mold you.

Then, he tilts his head and narrows his eyes. Like a switch being flipped.

"Ah," he prompts, and presses his thumb against your lower lip. You're so good, so pliant as you open your mouth, letting him hook his thumb into your jaw. Presses it flat onto your tongue and lets you taste the slight spiciness of the diced ginger he handled earlier.

Delight sparks in his stomach as you remain perfectly still, save for the wobble of your lips. As if you didn't know to keep your mouth open or seal your lips around his thumb. He wouldn't particularly mind if you sucked—that should be for another time, though.

Caleb examines you like a mortician would a cadaver, his eyes dark. A piece of him satiating his appetite with the display before him. His digit in your mouth, your eyes a bit foggy as you breathe through your nose. In the palm of his hands, in his house, in his clutches.

You aren't the least bit resistant to his advances. If anything, you seem to welcome it, closing your eyes and letting your eyelashes flutter aganst your cheek when you open them to watch him too.

"You know I'm always listening to you. Always. Use your words like I taught you the next time you want my attention, hmm?" He leans in, smiling. Deceptively innocuous, saccharine with falsetto concern in a cheery tone. But he knows you see the desire lurking beneath the surface. Stewing in the cauldron of his gaze.

"Don't gotta be a brat to ask. Be good. Nod if you understand."

You nod, placated, dropping your finger from his necklace. Caleb smiles, pleased as he leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead. He feels the tension dissolve as quickly as it came.

He beams after, releasing you. His thumb leaves your mouth, hands off your face and thigh before returning to the congee. He ignores your pointed gaze toward him.

Caleb's a patient man. He'll wait, wait, wait, and wait some more. Doesn't make any difference to him, not when you're sitting pretty, waiting with him at his side. He'll wait, even as he watches you roll your tongue around in your closed mouth, like you're trying to taste him on your tongue.

"Now, keep talkin', pretty. I wanna hear how you kicked that guy's ass."

[cod-sins]

𝑫𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑵𝑬 𝑪𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵

.ೃ࿐ Paring: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Black!Artistic!Reader

.ೃ࿐ Ratings: SFW. Very Fluffy.

.ೃ࿐ Reader: Undisclosed.

.ೃ࿐ Format: HCs .ೃ࿐ Word Count: 536.

[A/N: What started out as drabble in my notes turned into full headcanons :>. Also non-blacks y'all are allowed to interact with this post just don't be weird.Also I didn't proofread n just kinda threw these out there.]

Going to start this off by saying Ghost supports you 100% whether you do it as a hobby or as a full-time job. He isn't going to be going around bragging to everyone about it but he would definitely look at some artwork and be like 'Huh, Y/n could make something 100x better.'

If you work with clay/pottery he likes to watch your hands carefully dip and curl shaping whatever object you're making. He also asks you stupid questions.

"Why are you fingering it?" "Simon." - 😐. "Just wanna know why you're trying to give it an orgasm love." Feel free to kick him out.

Got really jealous when he found out you made Price a custom drinking glass. He never told you but he always glares at it whenever he's in the room with his captain.

Ghost has a lot of money from working in the military so he has no problem buying you new art supplies. Even if you insist on getting a new sketchbook despite you having several others that you didn't finish. Ghost is still pulling out his wallet for you.

Suffering from art block? Ghost is your muse!

You'd have so many drawings and paintings based on him. He's so amazed at the way you're able to capture every little detail. You actually end up boosting his confidence/ego because of this.

Would pose naked if you asked, but he gets jealous if you use other naked people as art references. "Simon I love you but I need a female body. Not a six-foot British man." "Use your imagination."

If you're a digital artist Ghost is constantly telling you to get up and stretch. You only agreed to this because he wouldn't stop calling you shrimp-related nicknames.

"Oi, shrimpy ya need to stand up for me." "Hey shrimpback time for you to stretch for me." "Your back looks like the letter C."

'It's you. 💻🖋️🦐' He would text you.

Doesn't understand why you're crying head down on your computer until you tell him your program crashed before you could save your progress.

Ghost is so amazed with your ability to create masterpieces just by using your head and references.

Would let you color on his tattoos and draw on his back and arms. He enjoys watching you doodle little crossbones on him. Or when you go all out and draw bones on his hands

If you were a painter Ghost would hang some of your artwork around his house. It would be such a surprise when you came over to visit. He'd smile softly watching you get all excited over it.

Ghost however can't tell the difference between different tones and shades.

You frowned slightly and furrowed your brows as you picked up the small tube of paint from the white bag. "What's the matter?" He asked. "I wanted lime green this is yellow green..." "Bloody fucking hell mate what's the difference? It's just green." "Pfft, what's the difference? Simon, there is a huuge difference," you exclaimed before continuing on. "It's like trying to use a sniper optic for a pistol." He chuckled at your shitty analogy before kissing your forehead and promising you to buy the right one next time.

[queenharumiura]

Mukuro [ FIVE DEATHS ] 

Taken from meme: [x] ||Accepting|| (Okay to be fair, I for the life of me couldn't think of situations where they both could've almost died together- these are non-canon drabbles anyways, so who said I can't AU? AMIRITE? Didn't specify how-- so according to my tags, i'm free to YOLO)

Prompt: [ FIVE DEATHS ]  send for five times our muses almost died together and the one time the sender Haru does.

-

[1]

During a migration season, Haru got separated from her parents when they passed by an underwater current that was too strong for her to pass through. She'd somehow accidentally dragged another child along with her because he got tangled in something Haru was wearing. (You know the pains of fashion) They both got separated from the other merpeople and two young children were left to fend for themselves for who knows how long. Time was arbitrary when you lived in the ocean. Haru feared for the worst, she was going to die, but she didn't cry because the one next to her wasn't crying. He was a brave little merchild. SNIFFS. "I'm sowwy." He had gotten involved because of her, but luckily before they could tire themselves too much from their never ending searching, the adults found them and brought them back to their parents.

[2]

"I'm sorry... I didn't know it was poisonous." Haru is 'kicking' her fin with a small pout on her face. Haru loved to collect pretty things and make things out of them and she saw something vibrant and with stripes. She thought it would make a nice accent piece and she'd talked Mukuro in helping her find the fish again and see if they could take the spikes. Luckily for them an adult came around and noticed they were about to mess with a Red lionfish. Though the venom wasn't necessarily fatal to most adults, young merpeople should be careful.

[3]

"You just had to go to the forbidden area. The adults said it was dangerous and you had to say 'I'll be the one to decide how dangerous it is'." Haru mumbles to herself. "Well? Was it worth it? Almost getting eaten by a killer whale? Was it fun?" Boys, willing to risk their lives in order for their pride, vanity, or their curiosities. "What would you have done if I didn't follow you and pull you in? Huh? How do I know about this hiding spot? Hey- we're talking about you right now. FOCUS." She's not going to admit she snuck out here once before. "Huh? What do you mean you could've just conjured an illusion and would be fine? Would it kill you to be grateful?"

[4]

"I wonder what these things are. I've never seen anything like it before." Haru is swimming around the perimeter of this mysterious floating object. There were various of these floating objects scattered about. It didn't look like it was alive, and it didn't smell like food either. She'd never felt anything like it in the ocean before. What they were looking at was a naval mine. Luckily, they don't explode upon contact, but only when they sense a ship or a submarine nearby. "Hm? I don't know, i've never seen a whale in that shape before." It doesn't move like a fish either. The 'ugly fish' got close to one of the mysterious objects and it explodes. The shrapnel from the resulting explosion and the falling debris of the now sinking ship made this immediate area a danger zone. It didn't take long for Mukuro to act fast in pulling Haru to snap her out of her shock. They had to get out of there. Fast.

[5]

As it turns out, there were many reasons why merpeople lead a nomadic lifestyle. It wasn't just because they liked to follow their food source, so they'd migrate along with the migrating fish. There was apparently the increasing risk of being found by humans. Their presence was a danger to them, so being found by one was grounds for packing up and leaving immediately. This time, the disgusting humans started dumping their waste into water. None of them knew what this waste was, but it was killing the life around them and making them sick. Some of the younger or weaker merpeople had already passed since being exposed to some of the dumped chemical waste. Everyone in their colony was sick, and only getting weaker. They had to escape and hope for the best. If they're lucky, they'll come across another colony who will have a healer and they can work their magic.

[-]

“No way, that’s actually absurd. Let’s all just go, okay? None of this one person stays behind nonsense.” The humans have caught wind of their presence here and had organized a party to catch them. Who knows what intentions they had for the merpeople, but Haru couldn't think it was anything good. The weapons in their hands was evidence enough of that. They had gone out to hunt and gather supplies as their colony sends individuals out in small batches so that a steady flow of supplies can be gathered at any odd hour of the day. Haru, Mukuro, and a young girl had been assigned to one group.

It was nearing the time that they needed to return, so they ought to go back to their colony and tell them they had to go. If push came to shove, they could gather the warriors and make a solid offense before running off to find somewhere new to live. This wasn't a sustainable lifestyle for them anymore. How much more running could they do away from humans? If they weren’t alone, they could’ve stood a chance of taking out the small number of humans here, but as of right now, Mukuro was the only one who had any real offensive abilities here. Haru had already designated herself as the caretaker of the young girl who was trembling in her arms.

“We’re ALL leaving TOGETHER. We don’t know what the humans are capable of. If anything happens, I wouldn’t be able to protect her.” There was no way she’d let him stay behind when they didn’t know anything about what the humans were capable of and why they were here. She somehow manages to convince him, and they all leave together. Then all of a sudden, some kind of a net contraption grabs the young girl. Haru didn’t even think before she grabs onto the net and starts trying to claw and bite it apart as the humans are quickly reeling in the net onto shore. The speed in which they were being reeled in was mind-boggling. Mermaids couldn’t possibly understand the concept of an engine or hydraulics being utilized to quickly real something in. “Hoshi, it’s going to be okay, don’t panic. I’ll get you out.” Haru tells her just before they breach the surface. Haru is curled around the little mermaid stuck in the neck. Her claws still working on fraying the net.

There was no way for humans and mermaids to communicate with each other. Haru made sounds akin to a growling hiss at the humans, thrashing her tail around to distract the humans from what her hands were doing. The humans start holding her down with some weird contraption. It was a long stick that had a fixture at the end that could press her down, but they underestimated the size and length of a mermaids tail. As a last ditch effort, Haru uses her tail to thrash her tail and knock the net (and Hoshi) back into the ocean. Content with this, Haru turns her attention to the humans. If she can’t take out one of them, she won’t be able to rest in peace. You may have her torso pinned down, but she sure can slap you around with her tail. Hope you break a rib or two, you bastards! “The boss said keeping just a few alive would be enough.”

The hole Haru managed to make in the net was just wide enough for the young mermaid to slip through and escape. The last words Haru gave to her in mermaid speak hung heavy in her ears. She’s small and lithe, so she’s able to make her speedy escape, avoiding the projectiles the humans throw at her in her escape. She looks back, hoping to see that Haru also made her escape, but all she sees is a red spilling into the water. Hoshi didn’t have the bravery to look any longer. It all happened so fast, that just a few minutes felt like hours. “Haru, she… she got me out. She said we have to tell the others to get out.” No matter what, Haru had always prioritized others over herself. This sacrifice of hers wasn’t going to amount to anything if it was all for naught at the end of the day.

[denim-mixtapes]

hi! could you do "pulling them closer when a cool breeze hits you both outside" or "gently wiping something off of their face and noticing them smiling because you’re just so cute and close" with Steve? Maybe a shy reader or first date premise? Pretty please and thank you!

Hi love! Thanks for sending this in <3&lt;3 Title: Unfinished Business Pairing: Steve Harrington/GN!Reader Word Count: 920 (lol, some drabble)

“Steve stop! Oh my god I’m going to kill you when we get down!” 

The boy beside you laughs mischievously, but stops kicking his legs with an apologetic smile. The ferris wheel seat sways slowly back and forth, rocking where it’s stopped just before the top of the wheel for them to let more passengers off. You cling to your date’s arm, pretty sure there’s going to be finger shaped bruises in his bicep by the time you make it down. 

“Sorry, sorry,” again he laughs, this time much softer as he tilts his head toward your own. He presses his forehead into yours and smirks, “I couldn’t resist, I’ll play nice.” He shuffles back in his seat and runs one hand through his hair, you giggle when it bounces back into place quickly. His other arm comes to rest on the railing behind you, his fingers idly playing with the hem on the sleeve of your top. When the ride jolts back to life, sending you forward a few yards and stopping again at the very top, Steve points out toward the horizon. “Would ya look at that!” He exclaims, but you have no earthly idea what he’s trying to show you. 

Your cheeks flushing, you squint and try to follow his line of sight. “What am I supposed to see?” 

“There,” he says again, leaning in closer so his eye line is level with yours and pointing again. In the distance, someone is lighting off fireworks. You definitely wouldn’t have been able to see them from the ground, and if you blink you’d miss them, but he’s grinning ear to ear anyway. “It’s like our own little private show.” 

“Yeah, you can see all of Hawkins from up here,” you muse, smiling dreamily toward the explosions in the distance. Before you can add onto your thought, the breeze picks up, fluffing your hair and pricking your skin. You hug your own torso, trying to rub away the goosebumps that appear on your forearms. With a laugh, you add, “Little chilly, though.”

Steve seems shocked by your admission, face blank and his mouth forming a little ‘o’ before he masks it with a confident, “Hm, is it?” A pause, a sly smile, “C’mere.” His arm drops from the railing behind you to land heavily on your shoulders and he pulls you into his side even closer, rubbing your shoulder slowly just like you had been on your forearms. When you look up at him through your lashes he’s already gazing down at you, his eyelids heavy and that signature Harrington smirk is soft on his features. You swear he looks at your lips, then back up, and he’s moving ever so slowly into you – and then the wheel tumbles forward again, breaking the focus you didn’t even know you had on his lips, and you turn away with a deep blush. 

When you reach the bottom, Steve holds open the gate and ushers you through. Reaching out for your hand, he tugs you away from the crowd and off to the side of the ticket booth. The roar of the county fair dulls to a quiet hum when the pair of you stop around the back side of the little shack. 

“Steve-” you giggle, taking your hand back and reaching up to twist your hair nervously, “what’re you doin’?” 

He bites back an eager smile. “I got interrupted up there, we’ve got some unfinished business,” he murmurs, stopping your fidgeting by grabbing your hand once again. His other hand rests lightly on your cheek, thumb stroking the soft skin under your eye. You’re overwhelmed in the best way, breathing out a nervous laugh and breaking his eye contact to look down at the grass, toes kicking up dirt. “Hey, look at me.” When you do, he’s looking at your lips again, and that damn blush creeps up your neck again. Steve’s grin widens, “you know, you’re really cute when you blush.” 

Of course that only makes it worse, your skin heating under his attention, and you try to look away but you’re fixated on him. The breeze picks up again, and Steve huddles in closer to you, pressing your back to the cool brick. You didn’t even realize his face moving in toward yours until his lips were on yours, pressing firm and eager, but pulling away quickly to allow you room to protest. 

You don’t, of course, the only sound coming from you is a quiet giggle as you bring your hands up around his shoulders, fingers twisting in his hair. 

You can hear the distant shouts from the rollercoaster and carnival music coming from some speaker nearby, the air smells like fried food and some sort of sickly sweetness that can only come from cotton candy, but your sole focus is on the boy in front of you as he leans in to kiss you again, humming his satisfaction against your lips. 

The back door to the ice cream stand slams open, and you break apart with a start, Steve’s hands shoving into his pocket as he takes a few steps back and you hide your face in your hands with another fit of nervous laughter. The employee taking the trash out pays you no mind, but as he returns inside Steve nods in the direction of the fair, this time with a blush of his own. 

“C’mon,” he says quietly, reaching his hand out for yours, which you gladly take. “Let’s go get some ice cream.”

[whumpzone]

Tomas and Rowe - Part 7

look at me smashing out chapter 7 ahead of schedule !! but I’m gonna reiterate again that uni is starting up, so updates may begin to slow down. with that said, please enjoy!

Masterpost

taglist: @sola-whumping @just-another-whumper @oceanthesarcasamfox @looptheloup @briars7 @black-polarf @zipadeedooda-drabbles @just-a-raccoon-with-wifi @rosesareviolentlyread @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jazz-0307 @kestrelsparverius @whumpsy-daisies @whumpersworld @memoriesneverforget @sky-or-something-idfk (just ask if you want to be tagged!)

CW: pet whump, general violence, mentions of self-harm (but not actual), dehumanisation

-

And then Kasia would come again. He seemed to always know when Master was out of the house. It was no different today.

"Hello, pet," Kasia said. Rowe didn’t look up, instead sliding silently to his knees. Kasia had him well taught already. "You may speak, this time."

"Thank you, sir." Rowe’s stomach felt hollow with fright. Every time Kasia appeared he was unprepared. He always seemed to arrive just as Rowe had started feeling calm. Maybe even settled. But the minute he heard that voice he felt like he’d just been caught doing something awful. And this was all so wrong! This wasn’t his Master; he shouldn’t be grovelling like this. He was Master Tomas’s property. It went against all of Rowe’s training to let Kasia treat him like his Pet.

But… what could he do?

The gentle rattle of metal brought Rowe back. He mechanically pulled his t-shirt off and didn’t resist as Kasia put the handcuffs on, securing his hands in front of him, hanging between his hip bones.

"Tight enough?"

This was a game. Rowe could win this one. Kasia played it every time. "No, sir. Not yet." He gritted his teeth as the cuffs ground deeper into his wrists, hissing quietly, but it was certainly better than making Kasia angry.

"How are things going with Tomas? Are you being good for him?"

This was a game Rowe couldn’t win. "I- I am b-being good."

"Mm?"

"I’m being good," he said, clearer. "H-he’s gone out for grocer-"

A smack on the head made his thoughts whirl. "He?"

"M-master! Master To-omas, Master Tomas h-as gone out for groceries."

Another smack. "Stop panicking. You’re so damn annoying. And yeah, I know. He told me he always goes the same time each week so you won’t freak out so much. So lucky for you, he hasn’t twigged that it’s not him leaving that gets you messed up, so much as it’s me coming over. But-"

Kasia grabbed Rowe’s chin and hauled him to his feet. "You’re still giving him trouble. All your trembles and flinches and-" He flung a hand at Rowe’s face, stopping a hair’s breadth from his healing nose. Rowe couldn’t help but jerk away with a gasp. "-all that. So you see? You’re not being good. You’re being a fucking pain."

"I’m s-sorry-"

"No you’re not," Kasia said, matter-of-factly. "But you will be."

-

The knife trailed casually along Rowe’s collarbone. Tiny threads of blood ran down his chest, which was rising and falling normally. His back was perfectly straight against the chair.

"That’s good. Stay nice and calm for me."

"Yes, sir."

"Tomas needs a Pet that doesn’t cry all the time. You don’t want to stress your Master out, do you?"

"N-no, sir, no."

Kasia dragged the knife along to Rowe’s shoulder, digging it in deeper as he cut down his arm. Rowe focused on being blank, and obedient, and keeping his breathing calm, and not making any noise, and not pulling a face, and definitely not crying. He could do this. The knife was momentarily taken away from his skin, leaving the cut to fill itself up with blood.

"Does it hurt, pet?"

"That doesn’t matter, sir."

"Good boy."

Kasia kept his eyes firmly on Rowe’s face and slashed his forearm without warning, watching for any sign of pain or fear. Rowe steeled himself. He wouldn’t give it to him. He let the adrenaline of the sudden cut overcome the pain.

Kasia frowned, clearly hoping that Rowe would falter. He swung the knife viciously along Rowe’s bicep, then another above his bellybutton, then another frighteningly close to his neck- but Rowe was being good-, then another diagonally across his chest. Kasia stood, the knife hanging by his side, taking heavy breaths as he watched Rowe. By now, blood was running down Rowe’s upper body in rivulets, seeping into the waistband on his shorts and dripping off the end of his fingertips.

"You look creepy."

Somehow, this hurt more than being told he looked ugly, like Kasia usually did. "I’m sorry, sir."

Rowe felt a lump in his throat as he swallowed, and a new prickle of fear took over him. He couldn’t cry, he’d made it this far, Kasia couldn’t see him cry. He knew being obedient wasn’t enough to earn him any mercy- Pets were made to take pain, they didn’t deserve pity. He had to be perfect, and then maybe he’d only be hurt a little bit. He took a breath, and the way it hitched made his heart sink.

"What’s this?" Rowe screwed his eyes shut and bowed his head, but Kasia delicately placed the bloody knife under Rowe’s chin and lifted his face up. "Look at me, pet."

When Rowe opened his eyes all he could see were watery shapes- a blink sent tears running down his cheeks. Kasia clicked his tongue.  "I’m disappointed."

Rowe whimpered. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-"

This man wasn’t even his owner, but displeasing him meant more pain. Sure enough, Kasia dug the knife into Rowe’s thigh, slowly pulling it down until he reached his knee. The cut was perfectly straight. Rowe braced himself as Kasia lifted the knife, but he wasn’t prepared for it to nudge itself back into his leg, starting at the top of the cut and following it down, pressing a little deeper.

"You want forgiveness?" Kasia asked calmly.

Rowe’s breathing was becoming desperate, and he couldn’t suppress a whine as he opened his mouth to speak. "Hh- yes, yes, please-"

"Beg for it then. Be a good pet and beg."

"Please," Rowe gasped. This felt all too familiar. "Please, sir, s-sir, I’m s-sorry-"

"What are you sorry for?"

"Not good enough."

"I’m so-sorry f-for being such a b…bad pet! I’m sorry f-for crying," Rowe whimpered as the knife started its journey down the cut again. The pain made his limbs shake, only aggravating the cut further. "Agh- please!"

"Please- sir- I know I’m worthless, I- ah! B-B-But I w-want to be better- so please- f-forgive me…"

"And?"

"And- I, I, uh- agh!" Rowe cried out as the knife twisted in his leg, forcing his words out faster, "Ah, ah, th-thank you, sir, thank you f-for teaching me, I n-needed this, I’m- ah! I’m grateful!"

The knife stopped, but Kasia stayed silent, so Rowe continued. "I’ll b-be good, I’ll be quiet, I w-w-won’t inconvenience Master Tomas, so tha-ank you, thank you sir, th-this is what I deserve as a pet…"

He chanced a glance at Kasia’s face as he pulled the blade away. He was looking at his watch, frowning. "Time for me to go."

Rowe whimpered as Kasia moved around the unclip the handcuffs. Please, at least tell me that was good, tell me I did it right, tell me I begged the way you wanted, tell me I’m good, I’m good, I’m good…

…

The house smelt strongly of bleach. Tomas winced, kicking his shoes off in the entrance. "Only me, Rowe!" he called. Not five seconds later there was a small figure kneeling at his feet, forehead to the floor.

"Welcome back, Master."

"Hey pal. Up you get, I need your help with the shopping."

As the pair set the groceries down on the kitchen counter, Tomas wrinkled his nose again. "What have you been doing in here?"

Rowe looked up with frightened eyes. He hates being questioned, mused Tomas. Always thinks he’s done something wrong. "I- I was cleaning the furniture, Master. I th-thought it might please you."

"It does," he reassured. "It smells very fresh in here. And since you cleaned it, you might as well get to enjoy it, hm?"

"My…my place is at my Master’s f-"

"I know," Tomas held up a hand to stop him. "I’m not testing you. But a lot of pets are allowed on furniture." Well, my mate lets her dog up on the sofa. That’s close enough, right?

"O-oh, really, Master?" Rowe asked with a glint of hope, before freezing up again, "I mean! I’m n-not questioning you, Master, I d-d-didn’t mean that!"

"It’s okay. Yes, really. You don’t need to ask for permission- from now on, you’re allowed, okay?"

"Yes, Master."

"Now, let’s unload all this food, yeah?"

Tomas rummaged in one of the bags, bringing out a packet of cheese. He handed it to Rowe, underlining a word with his finger. "What does this say? Take your time."

Rowe’s lips moved silently as he sounded out the letters. "Ch…cheddar."

"Well done! That was so good! Want to try another?"

"Yes please, Master."

"Good! Now, I’ve got one I need to write down. It’s a whole sentence, but I think you’re ready."

Tomas looked back at the shopping. What was easy to read? What was pronounced phonetically? He didn’t worry that Rowe obviously already knew what everything was called- he was so keen to learn properly he wouldn’t dare lie. Eventually he handed him a small spice jar.

"Puh- ah- pap- r…rika. Ah! Paprika?"

Tomas smiled as he quickly scribbled the words on the side of the paper bag, keeping his handwriting neat and even.

"Try that."

Rowe brushed his hair out of his face and leant in. "My name is Rowe. Hello, Tomas."

"Hello, Rowe!"

Rowe took a step back with a jolt, looking up at him uncertainly. "I- I- I didn’t mean to- to address you w-without your proper title, Master."

"And yet you just did."

Rowe quaked, shrinking away from him, but Tomas forced himself to be steadfast. Come on Rowe, you can do this.

"You were. You’re being good. You’re still being good."

"I’m sorry! I d-didn’t- I didn’t me-mean to, I w-was doing what y-y-you asked Master…"

"Th-then…"

"Try saying my name again."

"T- T- T… I can’t," Rowe whispered, "I d-d-don’t want to be hit."

"I won’t hit you. It’s okay. I’m not your old master."

"I w-was trained to always address my Master properly."

"I know," soothed Tomas, not stopping to think too hard on what Rowe’s ‘training’ entailed, "I know being here is confusing. Can you just try, one more time?"

"T- Tomas…" he forced out, ducking his head and bracing himself. Tomas reached out and Rowe flinched, violently, before seeming to catch himself and force himself to stay still. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from trembling, even as Tomas gently rested his hand on the side of Rowe’s head, rubbing his thumb up and down. It took a few seconds, but Rowe leaned into the touch, his breathing coming under control again.

"There, that was really good. Well done, Rowe. I know that was hard for you."

"Master?"

"It’s okay, it’s okay. We can work on that. For now, I think your reading is coming along just fine. I’m very happy with you."

"You… you are?"

"Mmhm. Now, let’s finish putting this stuff away. I have some work to get on with."

-

Tomas’s smile vanished as he closed the office door. He hadn’t been imagining it. He’d kept calm, and casual, but there were definitely cuts on Rowe that hadn’t been there when he left. They were hard to miss, long searing red slices poking out from his white t-shirt and the bottom of his shorts.

He ran a hand through his hair, pulling on a curl by his ear. What to do, what to do? How had he got those?

He remembered a horror film he’d seen once where a woman had lived in captivity for so long that she kept harming herself even after she was freed, because living without constant pain was too unnatural for her. Had Rowe given himself those cuts? Had he- Tomas’s eyes widened- had he also broken his own nose? Was he that desperate for punishment that he was willing to punish himself?

His panic rose as he realised Rowe could be doing that right now. What was he thinking, making Rowe call him by his name? It was far too early for that, he was still learning it was okay to sit on the damn sofa, Christ alive Tomas.

He rushed back downstairs to keep an eye on Rowe. He had to figure out a way to stop this.

[misterymeats]

A soft drabble for The Western Au my friend asked me to make.

Colored shafts of light spread across the pews as yet another crisp fall morning spread across Watersborough. The mist from last night's rain drifted around the trunk of old hickory tree in the front of the building, and The Sheriff sat in his plush leather chair right where the pulpit used to stand. On quiet days like this, Belos loved to lean his head back and let his weathered bones soak up the sun's warmth. "Mhm...Kid's gonna hate it today." He murmured as he scratched his chin, which had grown a fresh layer of stubble in the hours he slept. He watched the shadow of a falling leaf drift down before falling out of sight, and he tilted his head to the side. The Sheriff of course loved this weather. For once the air didn't make his skin dry out, and he wouldn't roast from wearing his usual dark attire on the rare occasion he felt like wandering around in broad daylight. His 7 year old child, with their thin skin and easily chilled hands, they weren't the biggest fan of cold weather. Despite this comfortable seat, this place didn't yet feel like home even after a year of moving in. After The Sheriff had paid to renovate the defiled building, ripping down everything Belos hated and replacing it with what he loved and worshiped, it still didn't feel right. It was far too big a space for a family of two. "There's not much to change that now, is there?" Belos whispered as he rose to his feet, feeling his heart strings tugged along to what held them taught. Still dead to the world with the curtains drawn tight was young Apricus, curled up in the middle of a bed that was far larger than they were. Why waste the money constantly changing sizes for them? Belos figured. The ropes creaked from his added weight as he seated himself next to them, and still the child didn't awaken. A jolt of anxiety ran through his veins as ice. Two years was still far too soon. Still, the rational part of him kicked in and The Sheriff reassured himself with the fact that the little munchkin was always a heavy sleeper. So, he reached out and held their shoulder, gently jostling them with his hand. "Sweetie, Suuuunshine..." The child scrunched up their face before promptly burying it back into their pillow. "Aw kiddo, was your dream really that interestin'?" He asked as he patted their arm. Apricus grumbled irritably at their father, prompting a snort out of him while he brushed the hair out of their face. "Alright kiddo, I can make breakfast then. Maybe some eggs and grits would pry you outta there..." ... "Daddy, why'd we live here now?" Apricus asked as they looked up from their meal, which was cut up to look like a crudely shaped smiling face complete with blackened teeth where Belos had accidentally scorched the eggs. "Here in the church? Why, it's simple darlin'. The high ceilings and the pretty stained glass." The Sheriff answered them after a bite of toast. Besides, they stole our home. So we stole theirs. He thought morbidly, and the creature that was dreaming in his chest blearily mumbled their agreement. Belos smiled warmly as he leaned down and propped his head up. "'Sides, I call you a little angel sometimes. Might as well have you living somewhere proper for that right?" He quipped as he reached out and poked their chubby face. "If I was an angel, then I'd be with mommy." Apricus answered as they looked down at their plate, and took a bite while The Sheriff sat there with his expression frozen. After swallowing his grief, The Sheriff looked them in the eye again. In their beautiful eyes, clear and crystal blue like his own. He always adored that about them, it made it easier for Belos himself to look in the mirror. "Oh you are baby, but you stay here so I'm not all by my lonesome. You're very important ya know." He chirped as he patted their head with the side of his hand that wasn't greasy. The child looked at their hands and fidgeted with their napkin. Belos saw too much weight on their shoulders as they mulled over something, so he wiped his hands and mouth before getting out of his chair. He crouched down so they could look at eye level (a trick he learned from interacting with small animals), and reached out for one of their hands. Apricus watched him for a time, before placing their grubby little fingers on his outstretched palm.  "Apricus, what're you thinking about?" Their father asked, his voice sweet and gentle. "Daddy, how come none of the other kids wanna come over here to play with me?" Apricus asked their father after a time. Unlike most in the town, they looked straight at his scarred and warped face without the slightest shred of fear. The way their small lips pursed when they were deliberating heavily on something reminded The Sheriff of their mother. His heart ached. That, and of course there was no easy answer for this. "Well-first thing off it ain't anything yer responsible for. So jot that down." He patted them on the head, but Apricus was still watching him expectantly. So continue he did. "That and some...bad things happened here a couple years back. Real bad. So bad this place sat empty for awhile even though it used to be the town center. I wouldn't be surprised if people thought there were ghosts here." The Sheriff almost let out a chuckle at the idea, but Apricus' soft little gasp kept him from being too smug. "But, I haven't see any ghosts. And nobody talks about the ghosts when they say the church. They say mean things about the bigger you, smiley!" The child softly exclaimed, their cutesy nickname for The Creature causing it to shift again. Wordlessly it showed him thoughts and feelings, of it turning into a bird, then into him, and then a mix of the two after. The Sheriff smiled tersely as he ignored the ancient spirit's musings. "Darn, I thought I hadn't let anybody see me...Guess I got sloppy." He said with a shrug. "That's just people bein' scared of what they don't understand Sunshine." The Sheriff purred. Never mind he conveniently omitted the fact that The Night Walker gave the people of Watersborough plenty to worry about. Apricus' eyes widened. Oh no. Then they burst into tears as they clutched at his arm. "I won't let them take you too Daddy, I promise!" They whispered while they shook like a leaf. The Sheriff felt a lump form in his throat, but he kept smiling for the both of them. "Thanks...I feel so much safer with you around Sunshine." He said gratefully as his large, taloned hands gently cupped their face. "But I don't think it'll come to that. I'm the boss 'round here for good reason." He leaned down and kissed them on the forehead.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Hmm... 68 (plus Scott) for the drabbles?

Crushed

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort Characters: Scott, John, Virgil

68) I thought there was time.

Sorry for the delay, had to actually do some uni work, but now I’m back and ooh this looks like a perfect Scott prompt!  Let’s see what happens this time.

This time, apparently, my muse wanted to keep going and going and going and there is definitely a full story lurking here if I ever want to tease it out properly.  But for now... a drabble.

And once again I have an empty inbox ;P

Drabble Challenge: 1-150 (feel free to specify a fandom)

“SCOTT!”

His name.  Shouted, screamed in his ear.  It sounded like John, except John hadn’t screamed like that, well, ever.  Not that Scott could recall, although admittedly there seemed to be a few problems with his recall right then, like why John was screaming at him, and why he couldn’t actually see anything.

Where was he, anyway?

A slow blink and the pitch blackness of his surroundings morphed into... more pitch black.  But there were shapes, sort of.  Night vision was kicking in enough to tell him that he was surrounded by things.  His nerves were telling him that, too, and his body was supremely reluctant to mo-

Ow, scratch that.  His body couldn’t move.  The things weren’t just surrounding him, they were crushing him, and was breathing supposed to be this difficult?  Air was rasping in and out of his mouth, lungs compressed by something.  The floor?

He was face-down.  Helmet on, but the lights were out.  Torch at his hip but his arms couldn’t move to reach it.  Things were jabbing into his back, sharp, pointy and heavy.

Rocks?  He’d been in a cave, but that cave had been a lot less cramped and a lot better lit.

“Scott!”  John was still shouting for him, deafening in the confines of his helmet and ow, hadn’t they agreed no shouting over comms because of that?  Not like John to shout.  Virgil was more likely.

Virgil.

Where was Virgil?

“Scott!  Can you hear me?  Scott, answer me!  Scott!”

John was getting annoyingly insistent and Scott groaned in response.

“Scott?”

What happened? he tried to ask, but only pained grunts forced themselves up his throat.

“If you can hear me, stay where you are, Scott.”  John’s voice was back to normal volume, if not normal pitch.  It was too high, a panic that his little brother normally never let show slipping out.  “Virgil’s digging his way down to you.  It’ll take a while because the area’s so unstable, but he’ll get you out.  Just stay still.”

Well, it wasn’t like he could go anywhere.  Those rocks - and they had to be rocks, there was no other explanation - had him thoroughly pinned down, and even if they didn’t the surrounding rocks were doing a very good job at hemming him in.

Breathing was still not supposed to be this difficult.  He wondered if he was injured somewhere.  Nothing was jumping out at him but being crushed by rocks was plenty painful enough to hide something, even if they weren’t causing it.

“Anything?”  That was Virgil, voice strained as though he was exerting himself.  Scott frowned.

“Nothing concrete.”  John paused.  “This is my fault.  I thought there was time before it collapsed.”

“We’ll work out what went wrong- urgh- later,” Virgil grunted.  “Right now let’s just focus on getting him out.”

“You’re right,” agreed John in a tone that sounded anything but agreeing.  “I’ll keep trying to raise him.”

“Let me know if you get contact,” Virgil huffed.  It was easy to imagine him suited up in his exosuit, grabbing at large chunks of rock and shifting them away.

“F.A.B.”  A pause.  “Scott?  Can you hear me?”

Yes, yes he could, but still all he could vocalise was a grunt.  Something was digging into his chest from underneath him, and he realised it was his spare grapple packs on his baldric.

“I’m really hoping that was a yes,” John muttered, seemingly more to himself than to Scott.  “Hold on, Scott.  Virgil’s on his way.”

[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!”

[rosebrightside]

Some short Ajay Bhandari x MC drabbles 

Inspiration taken from these dialogue prompts by @akp-1327 (they’re seriously amazing, go check them out!)

Ajay Bhandari x m!MC (Lyall Turner) 

Fun & Lighthearted #7 - “Sprinkles are for winners.” 

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” Lyall proposed. 

“A bet?” Ajay raised his eyebrows. “You’re on. Any ideas?”

Lyall thought for a moment before grinning mischievously. “Winner gets to put those rainbow sprinkles on their cupcakes. Loser gets none.”

Ajay’s eyes widened in horror. “How can you say that?! You know I love those sprinkles!”

“That’s what makes it interesting,” Lyall laughed. “But we don’t have to bet the sprinkles if you’re scared you won’t be able to beat me. I totally understand.” 

Ajay knew he was being baited. Lyall was wearing that dumb half smirk he tried to pass off as an easy smile that meant he was challenging Ajay. And Ajay wasn’t about to back down now. He scoffed. “Please. I could beat you in my sleep. Let’s do this. For the sprinkles.” 

“For the sprinkles!” Lyall cheered, jumping onto the couch for dramatic effect as Ajay went to fetch the controllers. “I will become the Sprinkle Lord!” He brandished the remote control like a sword. “I will lead my sprinkle soldiers into battle!”

Ajay laughed at his boyfriend’s antics. “Not if I become the Sprinkle Supreme first.”

Lyall took a controller from Ajay. “Sprinkle Supreme? What are you, a Star War’s character?”

“That would make me the Supreme Sprinkle.” Ajay paused. “I actually like that better.”

“Well then, Supreme Sprinkle, prepare to have your ass kicked.” 

“Don’t count your sprinkles before they sprinkle, janu.”

“I don’t know how to tell you this but that was probably the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said.”

“I can’t believe I lost,” Ajay groaned. “It’s impossible! Improbable! Inconceivable!”

“Ok, Princess Bride, dial it back with the adjectives,” Lyall said. He bumped Ajay’s hip teasingly as Ajay passed, holding a pan of cupcakes fresh from the oven. “No one likes a sore loser.” 

Ajay huffed. “I’m not a sore loser! I just regret picking Rainbow Road.” 

“Interesting,” Lyall mused. “You lost on Rainbow Road and the sprinkles you could have had if you won are rainbow coloured.” He gestured with the icing filled piping bag, putting on a philosophical air. “Irony, thy name is Ajay.”

“Why you – !” Ajay lunged and grabbed Lyall around the waist, swinging him off his feet and around the kitchen. “Turn Shakespeare against me, will you? ‘If it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge!’” He began poking Lyall’s sides and stomach, making him squirm and shriek with laughter. 

“‘Pray you now, forget and forgive!’” Lyall cried between gasps. 

“Never!” Ajay moved his hands more rapidly, taking advantage of Lyall being unable to tickle back while holding the piping bag. Lyall retaliated by squeezing some of the icing onto his hand and wiping it on Ajay’s face. 

“Now the war truly begins!” he shouted. 

The tickle fight rapidly dissolved into a competition of who could smear more icing on who. By the time Lyall stopped the fight so they could still have enough for the cupcakes, both boys’ faces and clothes were splattered with various coloured icing and Ajay was declared the winner. They iced the cupcakes in comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional giggle when they flicked spare icing or crumbs at each other and comments about the piping design. When they were finished, Ajay reached for the rainbow coloured sprinkles, eager to decorate his cupcakes, only to have Lyall swat his hand away. 

“Nope. Sorry, babe,” Lyall grinned. “Sprinkles are for winners.”

“I bet I can convince you to let me have some,” Ajay coaxed. He stepped closer to Lyall, one hand ghosting over his waist.

Lyall crossed his arms with a self-assured smirk. “You can’t. I have a will of iron.” 

“Well, what if I do this?” Ajay kissed his forehead. 

“Nope.” 

“What about this?” Ajay kissed a smear of pink icing off the tip of his nose. 

A tiny smile twitched at Lyall’s lips. “No.”

“And this?” Ajay placed kisses on both of Lyall’s cheeks.

Lyall was fighting a losing battle trying to suppress his smile now. “Nuh uh.” 

“This? Or this?” Ajay peppered Lyall’s face with kisses, trying to kiss every inch of it.

“Nooooo! Ajay!” Lyall laughed, squeezing his eyes shut and scrunching up his nose as he tried to twist away.

Ajay ended his attack with a gentle but firm kiss to Lyall’s lips. Lyall melted into it with a pleased sigh, arms looping around Ajay’s shoulders. 

When they pulled apart, Ajay cocked an eyebrow expectantly. “How about that?” he grinned. “Does that get me sprinkles?”

Lyall laughed, burying his face in the crook of Ajay’s neck. “Yes, that gets you sprinkles, you persistent weirdo.” 

Ajay smiled and pressed a kiss into Lyall’s hair. “Your persistent weirdo.”

Sweet & Sappy #25 - “C’mere, you can sit on my lap.” 

“C’mere, you can sit on my lap.” 

Ajay raised his eyebrows at his boyfriend’s words. His eyes flicked sceptically over Lyall sitting expectantly on the couch. “Um, janu, you do realise that I’m around ten inches taller and definitely heavier than you, right? I’d squash you.”  

“No, you wouldn’t,” Lyall protested. “I’m stronger than I look, I swear! Remember how I dipped you at homecoming? I can handle it.”

Ajay still hesitated. “I’m not sure that amounts to the same thing.” 

“Come on, Ajay! Just try!” 

“Please try,” Lucy grinned. “I love seeing my twin proved wrong.” 

“Prepare for a Lyall shaped pancake on the couch,” Rory joked. 

Lyall huffed, annoyed. “You people have no faith in me. Come on, Ajay.” He patted his knee invitingly. 

Ajay could never say no to those big brown puppy eyes. Lyall could get whatever he wanted when he used those eyes. “Alright,” he relented. 

Carefully, Ajay lowered himself onto Lyall’s lap, settling his full weight onto him. He felt a bit stupid and uncomfortable. Lyall was quite a bit smaller than him and he could tell that he was crushing him. 

“This is fine,” Lyall squeaked, tucking one arm around Ajay’s waist.

“How’s it going, Lyall?” Skye smirked. “Still breathing?” 

Lyall shot her a glare. “Yes! Ajay’s not heavy.” 

Ajay leaned down to murmur in Lyall’s ear. “You’re sweet, but let’s switch. Your lap is too small for me anyway.” 

Lyall’s face flooded with relief. “Yeah, ok. That sounds good.” 

Ajay stood back up and they quickly switched so that Ajay was sitting on the couch with Lyall on his lap. Lyall snuggled into Ajay, wrapping his arms around his neck. 

“The glorious fall of Lyall’s ego,” Lucy snickered. “The world mourns the loss.” 

“And yet I’m being cuddled by my amazing boyfriend while your girlfriend isn’t even holding your hand,” Lyall shot back good-naturedly. 

Erin perked up. “Is that a challenge? You guys are going down!” She immediately wrapped both her arms and legs around Lucy in a full limbed embrace. 

“This week on ‘Let’s Make Rory Feel Single’,” Rory deadpanned. “Local couples invent a new sport – extreme cuddling!”

Sweet & Sappy #19 - “I’ve always imagined my future with you.” 

“I actually wanted to give you something,” Lyall said. His hands were fidgeting and he was shifting from side to side, clearly nervous. 

“Ok,” Ajay said, sitting up properly from where he was reclining on the bed. “What is it?” 

Lyall’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Ok this is fine, I can do this.” He reached over and took Ajay’s hand. “Ajay, I love you so, so much. I can’t even describe how much. And this may seem strange for me to know because I’m still just a teenager, but I already know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He smiled shyly. “You’re the one for me. I don’t ever want anyone else.” 

Ajay smiled back, heart filling with pure joy and love. He didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much. “I feel the same way, janu. I’ve always imagined my future with you. You’re the only one I want.” 

Lyall let out a shaky breath, seeming to become more confident. “I’m glad. That makes this a lot easier.” He reached around his bed and produced a small black drawstring pouch. He opened it and tipped the contents into his palm; two silver rings. 

Lyall glanced up at Ajay with a blush. “I – I know we’re too young to get married, obviously, and that’s not what I’m asking. So for now I got us promise rings.” His blush deepened. “It’s kinda cheesy and dumb but I thought it would be cute and this way every time I look at my hand I can think of you, but it’s totally ok if you don’t want – mm!” 

Ajay cut off his rambling with a kiss. “I love them,” he whispered. “Almost as much as I love you.” 

Lyall smiled, resting his forehead against Ajay’s. “That’s a lot then?” 

Ajay laughed. “Definitely a lot.” He cradled Lyall’s hand that held the rings in his own. “Janu, this is such a beautiful idea. I love the idea of being so committed to you.” 

Lyall beamed. “So you want to wear them?” 

“Absolutely. Here, let’s put them on.” 

“Wait, I have to ask you properly!” Lyall scrambled to his knees on the bedspread and held up one of the rings. “Ajay Bhandari, will you promise to marry me someday?” 

Ajay’s cheeks were starting to hurt from how much he was smiling. “I will.” He took the other ring from Lyall. “And will you, Lyall Turner, promise to marry me someday?” 

“I will!” 

They exchanged rings, carefully slipping them onto the fourth finger of their right hands. Ajay raised Lyall’s hands to his lips and kissed first the ring and then the bare ring finger on his left hand. 

“One day, a ring will be on this finger too,” he murmured, flashing a smile at Lyall. “And you’ll be my husband.” 

Lyall’s breath caught. “My husband,” he repeated softly as if in awe. “That sounds amazing.” 

Ajay kissed him softly, smiling like the lovesick fool he knew he was. “It does. And I can’t wait until it’s real.” 

Angst #39 - “Maybe you should try to tell him/her that.” 

“I feel so terrible for how I treated him. The way I just... let myself get swept along with everyone else in blaming him for the accident was appalling. Especially with how close we’d gotten before. I should have known that Lyall would never sabotage anyone like that on purpose.” 

“Maybe you should try to tell him that.” 

Erin’s wise words rang in Ajay’s ears. Today was the day. He couldn’t put it off any longer. The apology had gone unsaid for long enough and Ajay would be damned if he let Lyall go one more day without making sure he knew how sorry he was. He only prayed they could move past it and at least be friends again. And hopefully one day something more, his brain added helpfully. Ajay told it to shut up. 

Taking a deep breath he grabbed his bag, double checking the contents one more time before climbing out of his car. Immediately as though his eyes were drawn by magnets, Ajay spotted Lyall disembarking the bus, chatting with Skye. He really was gone for this boy if he could spot him from that far away among a decent sized crowd. Ajay shut his car door and jogged to catch up. 

“Lyall! Skye!” he called. 

The two freshmen stopped, turning to face him. He skidded to a stop and nodded to them both. “Um, good morning. Skye, would you mind if I talked to Lyall alone for a moment?”

Skye shrugged. “Whatever. I’ll see you in homeroom, Lyall.” 

Lyall turned back to Ajay, brown eyes full of questioning. “What’s up?” he asked. “Is everything ok?”

“Everything’s fine. It’s just…” Ajay gently pulled Lyall off to the side of the path onto the grass. “I haven’t apologised for how I treated you.”

Lyall shrugged. “Oh, don’t worry about it. Erin told me that you probably felt like you couldn’t take sides because you’re the director. I get it.”

Ajay shook his head firmly. “While that may be partially true, I should have done more to hear your side of the story. I wasn’t as impartial as I could have been. I shouldn’t have believed that you would hurt Jordan on purpose.”

“Ajay, it’s ok,” Lyall said. “Everyone thought I had done it.”

“Just because everyone believes something, doesn’t make it right. You’re my friend and I should have trusted you when you said you didn’t do it,” Ajay said. He looked Lyall in the eyes, trying to show the emotions that he couldn’t speak through his gaze. “I’m so sorry, Lyall. And even though, I know that this isn’t nearly enough, I hope that this can help you to find it in your heart to forgive me someday.” He slung his backpack off his shoulder and pulled out a bulk pack of fruit snacks, holding them out to the younger boy. 

Lyall stared at the package for a moment, then burst out laughing. Ajay blinked in surprise. That wasn’t been the reaction he had been expecting. 

“What?” he asked in confusion. “You said you liked these fruit snacks, right? I remember you said they were your favourite brand when we were stuck in the theatre.”

“Yes,” Lyall laughed. “They’re my favourite. I love them. Thank you.” He took the package and hugged it to his chest. “You’re too much sometimes,” he said, still grinning. “But I mean that in the best possible way.”

Ajay swore to all the theatre gods, those dimples were going to be the death of him. He looked at Lyall uncertainly. “So you forgive me?”

“Of course! I’m not about to let Danielle of all people come between us.”

Ajay nodded slowly. “But I still feel awful…”

“Then get over here and hug it out,” Lyall ordered, setting the fruit snacks down on the grass and holding out his arms. 

Ajay smiled for the first time in the conversation and embraced Lyall gladly. “Thanks for forgiving me,” he said, voice muffled slightly by Lyall’s shoulder. 

“Always,” Lyall mumbled in his ear. “Just don’t go doing that again,” he teased. 

Ajay chuckled, pulling away. “Promise.”

“But some good did come out of all this,” Lyall said. 

Ajay raised an eyebrow. “And what’s that?”

Lyall grinned, picking up the fruit snacks and gesturing with them. “I have real, tangible proof that you do actually listen to me when I talk.”

“Hey!” Ajay protested and Lyall bumped his shoulder playfully as they walked up to the school.

[madamhatter]

Headcanon: The ‘Actress’ Motif and Sophie Hatter. Companion piece to Self-Perception, Self-Restraint, and Conflict in Sophie Hatter.

A theme that has been going throughout this blog’s writing (and in my interpretation of Sophie) has always been themes surrounding theater and performance.  It ranges from addressing the young Hatter to work through ‘masks’ that best work per situation (this’ll date to pre-curse in canon and standard in others) to the stage that everyone works on to this thing we know as life. 

She refers to herself as a cognizant actress to take on many shapes and forms, easily transitioning and adapting physically and emotionally (feelings, as opposed to long-term sentiments) whenever possible. Her adaptability isn’t as flexible when it comes to her own mentality, and emotions, which itself is jeopardized and rigid most of the time. However, what matters to her is how she is perceived and keeping all in order and in check as she is, after all, responsible for providing to others. 

Emotional intimacy, in which she opens herself up to others, is among the hardest things for her to express. She has placed too many boundaries and walls around to find herself comfortable to do this in any normal circumstance. And this is a result of her own deliberate management and compartmentalization of her own person. Which is basically saying ‘her behaviors and thought process has harmed her normal processes and her own perception of herself. It is a removal from understanding herself entirely and placed it in the back of her mind. That is itself an entirely different topic, but it does relay back into this current headcanon. More details on that may be found here: Is your muse very emotionally intimate?

Performativity is an important asset to how Sophie functions. She has already withdrawn her own interests and future intentions at a relatively young age (book canon wise) in order to pursue raising and aiding her youngest sister to seek our her fortune. This also includes her other sister, the second-born, by keeping her in line and helping her navigate through her wants. Being perfectly honest, Sophie did raise both of her sisters and Fanny, her mother, gave her her rightfully deserved acknowledgement and credit for that after being missing for quite some time. Back on topic, this is the first instance to where Sophie begins her ‘performance’and reworking herself to better meet the needs of others. The first mask for her to where was the one meant for the most important people in her life: her sisters.

As for imagery, the most consistent would be masks, the stage, dancing (specific performance), marionettes (and being controlled by strings), the ‘audience’ being connected to overwhelming (and public) eyes always watching her and recitals. All of it revolves around how she sees herself in the real world interacting with everyone else, making her distinctively separated from the others around her. And boy, Sophie’s views on what she deserves and what others deserve is a topic.

The quote below is an excerpt that goes thoroughly into the mentioned imagery. It is specifically a dream sequence Sophie has that encapsulates her own experience and fears that ties all this together. 

( White, red, and gray dance in the mind of the dancer; dissonance spinning her around by the wooden controller that fate held onto. Entangled by responsibilities, her feet drag, and the wires dig into her light skin along her neck, arms, legs, and across her exposed body. The same sequence, dance, and song – the marionette towed onto the stage takes her place – first position, heels touching, and feet outward with shoulders flat and body motionless.

   A jerk to the left from the strings, one arm now up, and her feet are drawn to the fifth position. Assemblé, the left foot behind her right, gives a small kick forward, and once that rests, the right foot and arm continue the pattern. Within the same step, arabesque. Both arms out on her sides slightly angled forward to the house, left leg extending behind her body with her right leg firmly straightened. Before long, she turns to position.

   Rond de jambe to create grace, tendu to keep simple, sissonne to change the pace, and passé to change her feet position a little. Each rigorous moment had a particular formation to follow, an order that must be obeyed. Performing for the faceless and unseeable, they still demand entertainment, and she must appease.

   Echappé to the stars and emboité for impressions, each step now was exigent and the breath in her throat she held. Jumps, bends, snaps, it must be according to the motions of wires that compose and direct her required movements. Glistening her throat was sweat, trailing down a major muscle tensing, yet now she held the house in her palm.

  One arm pulled back over her shoulder, back bent backward, her head craning back to greet the audience with her eyes, and her left up, pointing forward to the direction of the stage. A waltz dip for only one, a dance for two yet she must perform in solitude. Her greatest feat, making illusions of balance when impossible.

  Rrrrriiiiippppp. All she could feel was cotton. Just like a well-loved and well-traveled toy, sometimes they tear after a while. White cotton plush tumbling out of the split down her abdomen, the chaotic tune in her ears now white noise, a stillness hangs over the theater. But why was it so hot? Why were her appendages twitching, and why now of all places? Could she not continue? She must–…

   Her legs failed her – no, no, she failed them. The conductor to the show, the audience, the faces she knew and loved. Perfect form collapsing to the ground, her body descending to the wooden floor with her arms splayed and legs luxate stiffly.

   How odd, this dream never ends like this. But, it’s a kinder dream then if it does. )

DRABBLE RESPONSE TO @/diverse-hearts’ ASK.

Now, onto another business revolving around this motif: the mental state of Sophie’s mind because the imagery, references, and comparisons whenever I write are connected to each character by third person narrative. Basically, any time I do write for a character, their unique particulars bleed through into the writing which makes it their own and provides the capacity available to experience what they’re thinking, going through, rationalizing/understanding something, etc.

Having this constant duality between the perceived world and the real world since young, Sophie’s mind oft bleeds into relying and using her active imagination, which was of the many things that were kept ‘in line’ as a child. It is something that is persistently with her as she has a tendency of vicariously living out different lives and imagining herself as a completely different person or face (thank you HMC musical for validating this HC). But, she would most often take on imagining what other people life and what kind of fun and excitement and fortune was in their lives. Case and point: the entirety of chapter 1 where Sophie spends her time coping from her isolation by talking to her hats.

Her mental stage is working around the loss of herself and the opportunities, time, and chances for herself. In some cases, thinking of life in a certain way can help minimize the suffering and pain that one endures if they don’t want to come to terms. However, there comes the fact that it is more damaging to the person the longer they continue with their ways. Sophie falls underneath this umbrella since her own coping is essentially one fitted to how she was originally responding to traumas as a child. She has become a reclusive, nervous wreck of a person (book canon) that refuses to leave home and works through executive dysfunction whenever she prompts herself to leave the house or do something outside of her schedule (house-work-sleep). This only happens once she is officially hired as an apprentice under Fanny and her sisters both leave for their apprenticeships. But, judging from what Martha tells her, Sophie’s tendency to wallow and hide didn’t suddenly appear. It’s been here and there that both sisters comment on it. Even when she tells herself that she should go, it’s up to her and she knows, it is then where she falls back to excuse certain things and continue only for the sake of someone needs to work. 

And that itself is relatively childish. There are numerous gaps in her to understand herself and assess her own self that she tends to fall back into this box of where she’s been already used. To her, it’s easier to play upon the part assigned to her as opposed to seeking herself out and shedding off this role. It’s only until she is cursed beyond recognition that she, finally, goes out for her own and is remarkably accepting of the situation. (Which, really, speaks enough about Sophie’s mental health). 

With all the emotional maturity and responsibility to help and guide others, however, there is freshness and uncomfortable feeling she carries when it comes to acknowledging her divided self. It is an untreated wound and unacknowledged creation made by her household. it is  the ‘elephant in the room’ that even her sisters repeatedly tell her about (about her being exploited and being taken advantage of). 

It could be simply said that Sophie, overall, confronts herself with over-simplifications of her own feelings and thoughts, despite showing intense and deep questioning and dislike. The actual her that wishes to speak cannot when the role she plays does not find need for it. With this in mind, this perpetuates frustrations and even more inclination to make skewed, if not worrisome, conclusions. If she could, she would rather split herself to play different roles just like what she does and ignore what is brewing inside her mind. Which is why, for verses including Sophie crossdressing (Simeon), or in disguise (ie: Myrtle in TW),  this side of her is explored much more as for the fact she’s as willing and open to doing it 

One of the best examples to elaborate on this Sophie’s confrontation of death and what she views it as. Taking into account from the previous HC post, there are two variations to how Sophie may view a particular topic (but end with the same results, which is her belief).  The two accounts below carries the romanticize versus poison parts of herself. 

To truly embrace of total removal of control, that was the final evidence needed to show that one was willing to submit their mortality in the hands of someone else.

A cold someone else, whose of the remains of all mankind, placid bones that caress against still-warm skin, cradling mortal’s falling form. Garments of black hug  their rib cage, hollowed eyes gazing tenderly, they hold humanity and allow for the mortal to lay all weight and burdens into their hold. Bowing now from the dance of life, death takes the final lead in the danse macabre.

Sophie hopes at the time death greets her, when she submits herself unwillingly or willingly to the final number in their performance, that they were beautiful.

But, it was yet the step for that – as she never knew when it’d be and countless times, she could’ve.  To when she would’ve been enveloped in unconditional acceptance, for the first time in her life, it was not yet time. For now, it was a long waltz with the grim reaper who waited for her.

Yet, the actress returns to form, facing the mirror once more as the curtains drew back on her neck.

ACT. ???? - SILVER STIGMATA.

Context: Sophie Hatter, after doing a night’s work as Simeon, is standing before her bathroom mirror, in a state of undress. Her mind right now is blurred between the current act of Simeon and the act of Sophie. She is looking over the parts of herself that she keeps hidden (her scars) and her own bareness has her examining herself. While lost in this space, she slowly succumbs to revisiting her true self, locked away in mind. 

Part of her wants to laugh. How dare he have the audacity he had to think she’d be bothered by death? [...] Death was the only guarantee she had in her life besides her future as a failure.

DRABBLE RESPONSE TO @/diverse-hearts’ ASK.

Context: Sophie made a reckless decision during one of the Port Mafia’s events to take on an incoming threat that almost cost her life. Chuuya is reprimanding her while she’s laying out in a hospital, a place that is uncomfortable for her and reveals her usually hidden hostility and anger. 

While elaborate in description and playing along with Sophie’s imagination (and thoughts), the ending results are still the same: death is the only other variable in her life promised to her. She may look at it lovingly and dream it or scoff and bitterly remark it as if ‘that’s how life is.’ Both still embrace it, which is reducing the actual gravity and weight of the situation of her almost dying and the thought of herself dying.

(For those curious: Sophie’s views on death for others is entirely different and she’s fearful of it for others. Relates back to both of her parents’ early death and her witnessing her father succumb to ailment while she spent most of her time caring for him.)

Anyways, that’s a lot for this one post ---! 

[soranihimawari]

Hi Scores & Taiyaki

Hi Scores & Taiyaki

Welcome back to part 3 of the Kuroo x 1st person fic. This will be the last installment for now unless I decide to use Social Dummy again to continue the character’s relationship. But first things first, thanks for reading this and major shoutouts to @vbcshenaningansnwritings​ for reblogging my stories & @kaidasen​ for encouraging me to post these drabbles/drafts/fics. ::hugs to you::

Taglist: still open

The weeklong camp had come to an end before it had begun. I had a lot of fun hanging out with the girls during the end of camp barbecue. There were a few instances where I had to chase after Bokuto to remind him to not steal so much food from the different grills, but he just laughed it off before running away with a plate full of food for Akaashi. Kuroo on the other hand, was busy keeping track of his protoges, Kenma and Tsukishima (another tall middle blocker from Karasuno) by also doing the same thing. There was a moment before the visiting teams started to pack their belongings where Kenma tugged on my sleeve to pull me aside causing my conversation with the female managers to be cut short. (We had already traded contact info during the many nights we stayed up exchanging stories of their teams antics, so we all decided to text each other later).

“Everything ok Kenma?” I asked when we stopped walking. There was a safe distance between the side of the building where we stood and the other members of the teams.

“Kuroo seems to really like you,” he said in a low tone. I nodded as I kicked the invisible pile of dust on the concrete floor. His console was tucked away in his track jacket pocket, but he continued to play a different game on his phone.

“I have a feeling that I already know,” I replied with a smirk.

“Good. Because I couldn’t get him to shut up about you after you helped Lev out the other day.”

A chortle escaped my lips, “I see. Well, if that’s all you wanted to tell me, then I guess we could head back. C’mon, Karasuno is about to leave now too. Let’s say bye to Shoyo & Tsukki.”

It seemed as though everyone had begun saying their farewells by the time we returned.

***

Summer vacation quickly ended for me as soon as it had begun. Classes were starting again the following day, so naturally by the time I had arrived back home, I greeted my parents before calling my close friend, Riza.

“Kenma confirmed to me that Kuroo does like me and we may or may not have spent more time alone after lights out,” I explained collapsing on my mattress.

“Oh ho ho,” Riza chuckled on her end of the line. “So, the tom cat finally came around to liking you? That’s terrific. All of his fans are going to be heart broken when you guys go out on your date next Saturday.”

“I know. I am not looking forward to receiving those glares from his exes though.”

“Meh, you’ll be fine. They were the ones who let him go with the exception of Angela though. Those two always fought, but I am glad you two never really fought. Well, maybe except in trig when you both arrived at different limit answers, haha.”

“Of course you’d remember how well he took being wrong, Riz.”

“Mmhm. I gotta back my friend up whenever he assumes he is the smartest in the room. Anyways, I’m gonna go prepare for bed. See you in class tomorrow.”

“Okidokie. Meet at the convenience store at seven?”

“I’ll be there. Later Kat.”

***

The days seemed to have blurred together, but with both Kuroo and I heavily invested in our separate clubs outside of school hours, we barely had any time to discuss finalizing our plans for our arcade date. On Friday night before our date, I received a call from him. He seemed a bit stressed out, more so than usual, but that was to be expected since the team had a qualifying match scheduled in a few days time.

“Coach is making us have an extra practice on Wednesday and that’s when this chem lab is due. There’s also this make up test I have to do for history and I’m falling behind in trig since I can’t really find the time for homework. Kat, I don’t know what to do.” 

I was seated at my desk in front of my computer screen in the middle of typing an essay for English class. It was a three to five page paper discussing the themes of Westernized fairy tales which I stopped writing because clearly, Kuroo needed someone to snap him back into focus.

“Take a deep breath first,” I heard him inhale and upon his exhale, I continued. “Good. Now, listen to me carefully Tetsuro: meet me in the library after class on Monday. Bring all your materials for the classes you fell behind on. I’ll make copy of my notes and bring a pen to correct your mistakes on the trig quizzes since you got an 80% last time.”

“Our second date is a study date, huh?”

I chuckled. “It can be. Let’s survive the first one, yeah? The forecast called for rain tomorrow afternoon, so hopefully we won’t get caught in it on the way back.”

***

I arrived first to the arcade around 17:50. I was dressed in the best casual attire I could think of: navy wide leg pants, a white dress shirt paired underneath with a lemon yellow camisole. My shoes were black rain boots and my hair was left down. Kuroo came a few minutes later dressed in an all black street ensemble attire that made me think I was a bit out of his league (more so than before).

“You did not have to come here looking like an idol star,” I teased when he reached out to hold my hand.

“And you didn’t have to either,” he said with a smile. “Let’s go inside to play Street Fighter II again, yeah?” I nodded.

A few hours passed us by as we kept reloading the game cards playing different arcade games ranging from fighting games, TETRIS, and music games (like JuBEAT FESTO). Kuroo’s cat like smile made me more competitive when he failed the last song of JuBeat.

“Move aside, lemme see if I can beat your score sir,” I mused. I swiped my card and selected my first song and the speed. The tiles began to glow with the first few notes coming from the machine. There were a lot of encouraging words coming through the screen: “Combo!” “Perfect” “100 note streak!”

“By the time my round ended, the title card illuminated with a new hi-score slot waiting for my initials to be put in.

“If I wanted to date Kenma, I would have just taken him here,” Kuroo muttered under his breath. “Well, you win. I bow down to you, Kat-chan. Queen of JuBEAT FESTO.”

“You don’t have to, but maybe we should go? It’s almost 20:30 and I don’t want to stay out too late. Let’s go grab a bite to eat, yeah?”

There were a few food cart vendors located down the street from the arcade. Their carts were lined up against the entrance way of an old park where there once was a sunflower field. Years of urbanization caused the flowers to no longer be planted, but in their stead, a field of peonies were grown. I took a seat on one of the benches facing the flowers. A warm smile graced my lips as I leaned down to pluck one off the field. 

“Such a pretty flower for a pretty date,” Kuroo’s voice made me yelp in surprise. He cackled as he extended one of the taiyaki he bought toward me. “Here, I got you a taiyaki.” I took one of the fish shaped pastries an thanked him. We raised our fishes to each other and began to munch on them; we sat there for about half an hour making the time pass by playing a question game with each other. 

“Your turn,” I reminded Kuroo with a nudge of my elbow. “Ask me anything you like.”

“Alright,” Kuroo replied. “Hmm...I got it! Kat, how many dates do we have to go on before I ask you to be my girlfriend?”

I leaned forward and folded my arms over my thighs, a hum drawn out into the air. I made direct eye contact with the peonies, the one I plucked remained on the bench. He had a puzzled emotion worn on his face.

“As many as it takes for me to believe you actually like me. Kuroo,” I swallowed thickly. “You’re someone who would break up with a girl over the fact that they bore you or that they didn’t understand your commitment to your team as captain. It’s going to take some time for me to believe your emotions toward me are genuine. Sure, we had fun at training camp, but I need you think this through. Are you sure you want to be with me?”

At this point, Kuroo stood up and immediately crouched down in front of me. The summer breeze made his hair dance in the wind along with the blooms behind him. 

“I’m sure,” he replied. A hand of his combed a few pieces of my hair behind my ear; he grabbed the plucked peony blossom and placed it behind my exposed ear. “See? You do look more glamorous with it in your hair. C’mon, I suppose it’s time for me to walk you home.”

He pulled me up off the bench and placed a light kiss atop the crown of my head. 

We arrived at the fork in the sidewalk where we would have originally had split up before, but instead Kuroo escorted me to the front courtyard of my apartment complex building. He held my hand the entire walk over, telling me more stories of his childhood with Kenma up until the time Kenma turned twelve and they  climbed a tree to rescue a kitten. 

“And that’s how Kenma had his first pet,” Kuroo said, a triumphant smile over his face.

“So it seems,” I replied, a shortened giggle fell out of my mouth. He raised my hand to his lips, thanking me for a wonderful outing. His thumb traced over my knuckles lightly. I removed the flower from behind my ear before offering it to him. He pushed it back toward me before he tilted my chin up to meet his gaze.

“Keep it, sweetheart,” his voice told me. He leaned down again and kissed me, slowly to quiet my irrational fears of not being wanted by him. One kiss was all it took for both of us to come to terms with our outlook on each other. My eyes fluttered open, my hand still wrapped around the peony’s stem. He kissed my cheek when I wasn’t looking directly at him.

“Go on upstairs. I’ll leave after you go,” he told me in an hazy tone. He squeezed my hand gently. 

“Thank you for today,” I began as I turned around to open the door of the lobby. “See ya at school next week.”

***

About a month and half after our first date, Kuroo and I found ourselves curled up on the couch in his living room with a Ghibli film playing in the background. His arm was resting comfortably against my waist, drawing small circles on my skin. I turned my eyes away from the tv to look up at him before I decided I was done watching the film. I committed the minute details of his face to memory. 

He cocked his head to the side with a curious brow lifted toward me right up until the moment I initiated a kiss. Kuroo did not object to this sign of affection pouring from me. His hand moved away from my waist to my back, then I felt his arms loop behind me to pull me over his lap. I found myself wrapping my legs around his waist as my hands made their way on to the fabric of his shirt prior to me holding on to it for balance as he began to work on deepening our kiss. I found myself smiling into every kiss he gave me, stealing every ounce of air he had inside his lungs. He rested his head against the crook of my neck, his breathing uneven. 

“Three years of wondering what it would feel like to have you alone like this,” his voice reverberated gently against my skin causing a blush to dance across my face. Slowly, I felt his lips imprint open mouthed kisses up the side of my neck. He was gentle with me at first, much like the first person to kiss me like this. My breath was caught in my throat and it seemed he didn’t care as a whimper escaped my lips in anticipation not knowing where his lips were headed to next. Damn this boy, my inner thoughts cursed at him.

Each kiss gained momentum the closer his lips grazed against my own. In the past couple of dates that we had had, I mentioned off hand to Kuroo that if he were to kiss my neck, even playfully, I’d crumble beneath his touch. Smooth ass mother fucker, I thought. 

“Shh...” I hushed him within a few seconds when I felt his one of his hands disappear under the back of my shirt and the other stabilized the back of my neck. I’d like to think he counted how many layers of clothing there was between us, but his coarse hands roamed my body curious to know how soft my skin was.  

He pushed me forward, causing me to crash on to his demanding lips again; his hands were wrapped around my waist and mine laced lightly around the back of his neck, giving me more support to push myself into him more. His mouth was compressed against mine, yet this kiss remained as light as we had intended it to be. We sat like this for a few moments before our lips began to move rhythmically over the other, the pace being set by him.

I exhaled through my nose, not wanting to let go of him. There was an overwhelming feeling of mutual relief toward each other finally seeing what we could be. Relief raced out of hearts for a moment only to be replaced with this sense of combined eccentric panic, and lust. More, I thought. I need more of this kind of physical affection.

Kuroo’s hand on the small of my back travelled higher in an attempt to pull my shirt over my head, to which I shook my head in agreement.

“It’s too hot,” I said, lifting the fabric over my head and tossing it to the side. Kuroo’s eyed my exposed top half through running his hands up my sides. My chest rose and fell with every touch his grazed my skin.

“I concur,” he said. I shrugged before I leaned down, hands pressing his shoulders back on to the back of the couch. From there, I began my barrage of open mouthed kisses down his neck, leaving bite marks behind his ear. Hearing him hiss an exasperated sigh when he pulled me toward him causing me to stop.

My hair hung over my shoulders as Kuroo tilted his head up again to press his forehead against mine. He and I exchanged a few words making sure the other was doing ok; most of our replies were done in a hummed tone of the “yes,” variety.

Our heart rates needed to return to a normal pace prior to us continuing where we had left off. Kuroo’s playful shine in his eyes and smirk told me everything I wanted to know. I caressed his cheek when I pulled away, the inside of my palm warm from his flushed face. 

“Kat,” he breathed my name so effortlessly it caused me to stop stroking the side of his face.

“Hmm?” my vocal chords vibrates at the sound of my name. “What is it?”

Suddenly, I took note of how Kuroo’s eyes were trying to refocus themselves on my face; pupils dilated meaning he felt the rush of serotonin enter his system. He shifted his weight underneath me and whispered something along the lines of “you’re staying over tonight,” in my ear to which I nodded. I didn’t have time to wait since I felt him stand up with his hands under my thighs.

“W-woah!” I said, stifling a laugh when I moved my arms around his neck for balance. “Where are you taking me?” As if I didn’t already know the answer. I arched my eyebrow up at him with a teasing expression.

“My room,” Kuroo answered, his eyes crinkled with a smile. “To continue where we left off kitten.”

[machiiatto]

@venusiiian​: 10 - 15 portrayal meme for muns ( link ) || accepting!

10. Are there any crossovers you’d be especially interested in writing?

Crossovers are my entire lifeblood. Despite how many muses I’ve added to the multi lately, I actually prefer to add more verses to my existing muses than to add more muses to the pile because I love digging in deep with muses I already love immensely. Currently, my big kick is Star Wars, but my other typical favorites are Terra Nova, Pacific Rim, Harry Potter/Hogwarts, & Hunger Games. You’ll find most of my muses have verses for at least one of those, & if they don’t already, I can very happily & very easily remedy that. 

11. Do you write drabbles/headcanons for your character? Do you discuss them OOC, away from Tumblr?

I don’t do drabbles very often - the last one I did was a nearly 2k wall of angst for a meme a partner reblogged, but I do post headcanons somewhat regularly. I tend to get obnoxiously detailed with them, so I don’t get through as many as I would like at any given time but I have a personal rule that every muse I have has to at least have one significant one that I either hold back for part of my core portrayal notes, or post to the blog for public consumption. 

I do discuss them ooc! That’s actually the best way to get me to turn over long threads, ship tags, etc. The more we have established, the easier that becomes for me. The more I have to work with, the more I can pack into a thread. That tends to help me get a feel for the general tone of an interaction, the direction it’ll go in, or all the potential wrenches I can throw in without taking away from progression & development. 

12. Do you think your muse would act differently if they had interacted with different characters in the past? 

I know without a doubt that many of my muses would be wholly different people if they had. Celiné is one specific one - had she been able to be a mother instead of being lead to believe her son was dead, she would have gone an entirely different route. I actually have a verse variant to her main verse exploring that exact scenario. Imogen ( her mother in law, actually ) is another such muse. Actually, I can pretty comfortably say that the bulk of my muses from TSC are shaped wholly by what interactions they did have as opposed to could have had. The Marvel muses, perhaps not so much.

13. Do you have any plans for the future of your muse? Would you like to see them grow a certain way?

I don’t really plan my own development tbh. I like to let myself stay open as new canon is introduced to keep things a bit more fluid. I’m nervous about James & Jesse ( the Last Hours ) because I’ve only gotten short stories & one single book in the trilogy towards their portrayal, but since it’s a prequel series, we know their descendants’ stories, just not how we got from point A to point B, but I’n not planning anything concrete until I have more of their canon to consume. 

14. Do you wish you had a better grasp on a certain aspect of your muse? 

The two listed above, I wish I had a little more direction for them but that will come with time & patience, so I’m not especially worried ( March 1, 2021, get here faster damn ). Outside of that, I sometimes struggle with wishing I had a better memory for the tinier details & nuance, but the lovely @scholomcnce​ always comes in clutch to remind me of those details when I falter, & I’m glad for it because Talia is a fucking godsend, & keeps me humble. I wouldn’t have a lot of the detailing for my TSC muses without her tbh?

15. If you could start your blog again with a clean slate, what would you do differently with your muse? Would you change any of their base principles?

There are a few muses I might hesitate to add. I wouldn’t change anything about any of them, but I might hold back on re-adding them until I more firmly established some of the others because I’ve noticed I’m struggling with their voices more so than the usual “new muse, new voice” but I know it’ll come in time. I just need to have some patience & a little extra grace with myself as I adjust. It’s something I’m used to because I don’t really... like to venture outside of my comfort zone very often with new fandoms? I tend to stick to what I know, so vaulting into The Witcher & also Star Wars has been quite the trip for me. Growing pains, for sure, but worth it.

[thisway-imagines]

scattered notes & planned mornings (cupid’s arrow) - frederick

hey hey!!! happy valentines day to the dearest @feelstown!! thank you to the amazing @imaginesforfe and @fire-emblem-drabbles (momo and sydney) for hosting this cupid’s arrow event, and i really do hope you enjoy this, my love <3

let’s get this bread with some modern AU shenanigans uwo

You woke up without Frederick this morning.

On your shared bed, you stretched out lazily as your eyes were still closed, letting out a muffled groan as the early sunlight greeted you as it slipped through the slim openings of the curtains. Hoping to find the warm figure of your boyfriend next to you, you were slightly disgruntled when you could only feel the cold sheets and empty space beside you. That was when you decided to open your eyes a little bit; your vision was hazy as your eyes started to adjust to the light in the room, but after a while, you finally decided to sit up when the drowsiness started to go away when you rubbed your eyes a little. 

Turning around to check Frederick’s side of the bed, you let out a small smile when you realized how neat his side was. There weren’t any creases there (not counting the ones you made when you stretched out an arm to check on him), and his pillow was the same.

But there was a small note on his pillow.

Now curious, you shifted yourself into a more proper position to get the note, leaning onto the bed frame as you read:

I always love to start off my day by waking up to see your peaceful expression. It brings happiness to my mornings all the time, [Name].

A small flush rushed onto your face, covering your face with your hand as you giggled at the note. Looking at the curly and proper handwriting, you were sure that this Frederick’s handiwork. With a grin on your face, you called out:

“Frederick? Where are you, you big dork?”

You were greeted with silence.

Huh, you thought, has he already gone to work? Frederick usually shakes me awake before he goes... Your musings trailed off as you gazed at the note again, admiring your boyfriend’s neat handwriting and heartwarming note. I can’t believe he’s so busy, yet he always tries so hard to have some time off with me. Slapping your head lightly, you let out a fond giggle - your Frederick was truly a handful. 

A blessed handful, that is.

As you sat there and looked at the note, you realized you couldn’t just stay in bed the entire day - your stomach grumbled in hunger in response to that thought, and you let out a sigh.

Kicking off the sheets from your bed (it’s fine, you could fold them later anyway), you started your lazy walk towards the bathroom - the note was still in your hand, the sticky side stuck loosely against your fingers as you held up your hand to cover the yawn that escaped from your mouth.

As you arrived in the bathroom, you stuck the note from the bed onto the door carefully as if to not let it fall off. Going up to the sink to wash your face, you turned on the tap as you collected the water into your palms, splashing it onto your face as you looked up into the mirror.

There was another note stuck there.

You look breathtaking no matter what, even if it’s when you just woke up, my love.

This time, you made no attempt to hold back your sudden laughter. Frederick was always such a cheesy person, never being able to hold back his compliments around you (no matter how awkward they were). Turning around so you could reach out for the towel, you realized there was already another note stuck right beside the towel rack. Quickly rubbing your face and hands dry with a towel, you read what was on the third note.

I’m glad you enjoy my breakfasts so much. I made you your favorite this morning, with the eggs just like how you like them.

Your heart swelled in affection.

Sitting yourself down on the table with your breakfast already made for you (you realized it was still warm - he must have made it earlier). Digging into the delicious meal in front of you, that was when you realized another note had been stuck onto the chair that Frederick would often sit during meals with you. 

You’re my favorite person to talk with during small moments like these.

As you walked around the house that day, there were various notes stuck all over the house from your boyfriend - the trail seemed endless. There was one stuck onto the fridge, one on the washing machine, some on the entrance of the doors, one on the TV, on your laptop... You were curious about how much time he had spent on preparing this morning for you, for you flushed and laughed at every note you found when you did your daily chores and tasks around.

Dear, I hope that you never bring home bear meat home to serve me - I’ll tell you the story another time.

Listening to your little commentary as we watch through the movies is always entertaining. You look rather cute while you go off on such a random tangent like that.

I like it when you wrinkle your nose up in concentration while you do work. It’s one of the cute quirks you have, [Name].

There were already at least 20 notes in your pocket at the moment. As you peeled the final note (well, so you at least thought it was the final one after scavenging the house for notes in every nook and cranny possible) from your laptop, you cozied into the couch comfortably after a morning full of surprises every corner. Although you had opened your laptop for work, you sat down for a while to think - and settled your laptop next to you as you dug into your pockets to look at all the notes again. 

You held so much love for Frederick. For every single note he stuck onto the walls or furniture of your home, you felt your heart soar in response to them - he was obviously just as enamored with you as you did with him. You couldn’t be any luckier to have been able to meet with Frederick, waiting every afternoon patiently for him to come home so you would be able to run into his arms and plant small kisses all over his face-

The sound of keys being inserted into your apartment home was heard, and you jumped up from your position immediately. The door creaked open slightly as Frederick started opening the door, and your eyes widened as the familiar baritone voice called out to you.

“[Name], I’m home-”

You didn’t waste any time running towards the entrance and crashing yourself into him when the door finally opened wide - he’s finally arrived, and you couldn’t be happier than to see his arrival home as you peppered kisses all over his red face.

Frederick was especially shy to be receiving such affection from you outside your apartment (where everyone could see you joyfully smooching his face from here), but nonetheless wrapped his arms around you in response to your rushed hug. “Did you miss me, my love?” Your boyfriend had the gall to tease, his chuckles rumbling against your figure as he picked you up and carried you into your home, turning around quickly just to close and lock the door behind him.

“Well, now you have my undivided attention,” Frederick laughs as you come to hug him again, “I reckon you’ve seen all the notes?”

“Yeah!” You replied warmly, a smile gracing your features as you looked up to the love of your life. “They’re wonderful.”

He looked down at you, and leaned down to peck your lips.

And as you broke away from the kiss, you continued: “You’re wonderful.”

Frederick laughed once more, looking into your eyes adoringly before planting a kiss onto your cheek. His eyes suddenly widened in realization as if he had almost forgotten something and quickly removed himself from the hug so he could retrieve something from his bag.

“You’ve got something for me again?” You asked incredulously, now peering inside the bag to fish for any clues on what it might be. He swatted you away playfully as you backed off while laughing. “You didn’t need to, y’know.”

The brown-haired man shushed you at first, but didn’t give you a reply immediately as Frederick focused on finding the item buried deep somewhere in his bag - but he eventually replied: “Of course I need to. You deserve everything and more, my dearest [Name].”

Now stunned into silence, you felt your face flush (you didn’t keep track of how many time this man had caused you to feel like this today already, but you knew it was a lot) as you looked into the wooden tiles of your floor, now shy in front of him. But the sounds of Frederick rummaging through his bag eventually stopped, and you felt a hand tilt up your chin to look at your lover.

“I have your final note, [Name]. Would you be a dear and read it as I prepare for tonight?”

You felt your face go redder than usual as he places your gift into your hands carefully, giving your cheek a small smooch before heading off into the kitchen.

As you finally looked down at your hands, Frederick had placed a heart-shaped box in them with a heart-shaped sticky note stuck right on top with his own handwriting, adorned with even more silly hearts doodled onto it.

Happy Valentines Day, my dearest, and most precious [Name]. I love you more than I can ever show or tell you.

[z-wonderland]

Falling/1of 2

Fanfic 1/2

Elijah Mikaelson x reader

a/n: just a little romantic drabble, it's the Valentine's season of the year. Let's play Cupid 💘 lol 😁😂💝

While you wait for me to continue with "Always" 📖

Thanks for reading. 😘🤗❤️

Tags @rissyrapp20 @elejahforever @cassienoble2000 @dendrite-lover @captainshurley @hides2000

💘💘💘

Elijah looked at his watch.

"Come on, Y/N-"- he muttered as the woman he was waiting for was obviously running late.

Elijah Mikaelson had been meeting this woman for couple of months now, nearly every Thursday.

Flashback

It was a cold winter night, as she walked in the cafe, nearly completly drenched, having missed her train. She ordered tea as she walked by the owner, who obviously knew her very well, and went straight up the stairs to the rest room. The moment he saw her it was as if he saw a star had fallen from the skies down to Earth.

Now Y/N walked in the cafe and smiled as she saw Elijah sitting in the booth. Her heart jumped up seeing him. He had missed his train on purpose or he was running late as well. He waved to her as he saw her and she walked to him.

"Hello. You are still here?!"-she said trying to act surprised.

"Ah, yes. I missed the train. It doesn't matter- I don't need to get back on. Hayley is away- hunting some antique armchair."

He could see that she was slightly nervous as if she was hiding something.

"You- if you don't mind me asking- seem to be destraught- is everything all right?"

"No- yes- but it's nothing."- she said shajing her head. Her stomach flipped as thousand butterflies now rose up.

"What is it? You can tell me. I will keep it a secret" - Elijah said.

Secret. That word now stood like a fish bone in her throat all of a sudden, making her heart feel like it jyst got pierced.

Already that morning, when she got up, and made herself coffee, checked her daily schedule, she had the strange feeling overcome her, the same she felt the other day when he thought of Thursday coming. And she couldn't explain how and why she started feeling the strange anxiety set. Reality kicked in. But at the same time, her heart felt a sweet flutter.

Flashback

On the phone that morning, already on the train, Y/N phone rang. She saw it was Caroline and she now swiped the call open-

"Hey, Care"

"We are doing lunch when you are done with your presentation."- Caroline said-"unless you a busy with your Train Guy"

"Train Guy? What do you mean? " - was surprised to hear her friend mention it.

"Come on- you wrote Train Guy and made a heart-shaped circle on the name -"

"What?" - Y/N said.

"Last night in the bar! When you wrote down Kai's number in your organizer. And I know you are not into Kai, though- ok-digressing - so spill-"

Y/N now gulped and blamed the Malbec on the glitch. Her subconscious got the better of her. She knew that if she tried to deny it, Caroline would not take it. She was too smart and knew her all too well.

"Ok- yeah, there is this guy - he is just someone I met on the Train Station Cafe. And we got talking- and we took the same train back. Strangely, it turned out we bought the same book that day -and then we started talking about it- and then I saw him again- and then he invited me for coffee."

"Ah, he invited you for coffee- again! This is now going on for a while?"

"Nothing is going on. We just - have coffee and we talk about - books- architecture- art" - Y/N said.

"Oh, seriously? I don't believe it."

"Believe what you want, but we - just talk. And it's good. Really good. And anyway, he is with someone. He told me straight away about his fiance-  and everything- them redecorating the house, and moving to the country-  I know he is not available." - Y/N explained.

"You've fallen in love with him!!"- Caroline said.

"What???"- Y/N said.

"Well, knowing you, and by the way you just talked about him. Yep, you're in love with him. The etching so proves it. "- Caroline said.

"Huh- anyway - even if I am- nothing can happen. And anyway, you know that I will be travelling for a while. Probably a long while"-Y/N said somewhat resigned.

"Yeah- you're leaving on Saturday. Ah, well maybe you will meet a hunky Italian in Rome. Ok. I got to go. See you tomorrow for a goodbye party"

"No party, Caroline please" - Y/N said not wanting to inconvenience her friend.

"It's not going to be anything big. Just us girls and a couple of bottles og good red wine. My place. See ya" - Caroline said and hung up.

"I will be doing illustrations for" The New Yorker", though I am going away. - Y/N then continued.

"You are?!"- Elijah said with a whif of shock in his voice. Not trying to show it, he then added-"that is great- so what is your first destination?"

"Rome. Then Barcelona. And then I will decide where to go afterwards."

"So-this is it?!"-he then muttered.

"Sorry?"-she said hoping he would say something more.

"Oh, I mean- I really enjoyed our Thursday meetings, talking about-everything"-he said-" I rarely have someone discussing about the world - art- and reading nearly the same books as I am."

"Yeah, me too. "- Y/N made a silent sigh.

They waiter served her tea now. Stirring it, she then had a thought and shared it with Elijah-

"I was thinking of writing a blog- as I travel"

"Oh, well- this is great. I will sure be reading it. You have one follower already."- he said enthusiastically.

"I think of naming it Y/N musings. Something like that- I don't know. It should have a more fun title"

Till that moment they didn't think of exchanging phone numbers, or e-mails, as it was only something that happened casually. Like it was this something set up in an alternative world. Something that was just their special thing.

They chatted a little bit longer about an upcoming new writer and then it was time to get their trains.

Each left in the opposite direction, without saying any particular goodbye, just a wave and a silent

'see you'

💘

-to be continued-

[january3693]

Baby Names

A little drabble featuring James and Lily the night after they learn about the prophecy. There’s a part of me that wants to continue this into something larger (probably with explosions or something), but for now it’s just a quiet little thing. Enjoy!

James had never been good at sitting still, at doing nothing. He liked to joke and call himself a man of action, but it was true. Problems weren’t solved by sitting around and twiddling your thumbs or gazing at your navel; they were solved by getting off your arse and doing something about them. That was how James had always viewed life. That was how he’d always lived life.

So why was he utterly frozen tonight?

Next to him, Lily was shifting restlessly, tossing and turning and kicking at the covers. She was barely even pretending to sleep as she fidgeted and swore under her breath. The one thing she didn’t do though was reach for James. Of course, he hadn’t reached out for her either. Instead he lay on his back, perfectly still as he stared up at the dark ceiling.

They’d barely spoken, barely even looked at each other since they’d returned home. What was there to say? What was there to do?

“Bollocks,” Lily muttered, rolling from her side onto her back and wiggling in an attempt to get comfortable. The round hillock of her stomach made it a cumbersome process. She settled, mirroring James’s pose and likely staring up at the same spot on the ceiling.

“Are we really going to keep pretending that either of us is going to get any sleep tonight?” Lily asked.

“You should try,” James said. He barely recognized that hoarse whisper as his own voice. “It’s good for the baby.”

Lily was silent for a moment, then she kicked him in the shin. Hard. When James didn’t respond, didn’t yelp or curse or even blink she sighed and laboriously pushed herself up into a sitting position.

“Don’t do this to me, James,” Lily begged. Her voice was thin and wispy, no more recognizable than James’s own. “Don’t just…don’t shut me out, please.”

James squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t move. There was an impossible weight on his chest, an anchor, a millstone…a prophecy.

 “This is all my fault,” he said. He still couldn’t open his eyes and look at her. It wasn’t her fear or anger that terrified him, but if he looked into her beautiful green eyes and saw regret it would break him. Even if he couldn’t blame her for it.

“Oh fuck off, Potter,” she snapped. “The bloody prophecy didn’t say anything about a father who defied the Dark Lord three times, it said parents. I was right there beside you, and I was certainly a part of getting us into this mess in the first place.” She sighed again, and James could feel the temporary burst of anger flow out of her.

The weight on his chest was still impossibly heavy, but somehow he managed to shove himself up onto his elbows.

Without his glasses or a light, Lily was little more than a shadowed blur against the darkness of their bedroom, but he could see the shape of her, could see the movement of her arms as she wrapped them over the bulge of her stomach. As though she could protect their baby with her hands alone.

The weight felt lighter as James sat up and finally reached for her, finally pulled her into his arms. They crumpled against each other, arms wrapped tightly around waists, heads dropping on each other’s shoulders. Just barely managing to hold one another up. 

A part of James hated Dumbledore for what he’d done tonight, for holding them back after the Order meeting, for showing them his memory of the prophecy 

“It might not even be us,” James whispered. “The baby’s not due until the first week of August, that’s after the deadline.”

A sickening tendril of guilt curled in his stomach at the implications. If not them, it would be Frank and Alice and their baby. Alice, who was Lily’s closest friend now that Mary had left for America, and Frank, who was one of the best people James knew. They didn’t deserve this, and neither did their unborn child.

He hated himself for silently praying, “Please don’t let it be us!”

“I was born two days early,” Lily said. “So was my sister.”

“Well, I was born a whole five days late, and my mum never forgave me for it,” James assured her.

Lily gave a watery laugh and looked down at her stomach. “Guess we have to hope you take after your daddy, little one.”

“Only in this one thing though, got it, kid?” James said, talking directly to Lily’s stomach as well. A few of those pleasantly normal parental worries crept back in at the edges of his mind. What if their child did take after him? Merlin, he’d been such a nightmare as a boy! As a teenager! How had his parents ever managed it? How the hell would he manage this, prophecy or no? Being a father seemed an impossible thing. The greatest challenge of his life by far, but James had never shrunk away from any challenge, and he wasn’t about to start with this one.

“Do everyone a favor and take after your mum in every other way, especially the hair,” James told his child.

That pulled another laugh out of Lily, a little more solid this time. “Transfiguration too,” she added. “We’ll want him or her to get your talent in that.”

“Yes, I suppose,” James said. “None of the illegal stuff though, you hear that, little one? No becoming an animagus on your own. You come to me, or better yet, go to Minerva.”

They were both laughing, and keeping Lily in his arms, James slowly let them drift back down onto the pillows. Sleep was still a way off though, if it was going to come to them at all tonight.

“We still don’t have a boy’s name,” Lily pointed out. Her fingers were toying with the buttons on James’s pajama shirt while his combed through her hair.

They’d had a girl’s name picked out for a long time: Violet Euphemia Potter. Violet after a great-aunt Lily had loved, and Euphemia because Lily had rolled her eyes at the Wizarding tradition of giving a child his or her parents’ first name as a middle name. “Violet Lily Potter is a silly name,” she’d said. Instead, they’d chosen Euphemia for their potential daughter’s middle name, after James’s mother. They’d never been able to agree on a boy’s name though.

Now, even that simple debate they’d been having for months now held an extra weight to it. The prophecy had specified a boy child, not a girl.

“Well, we certainly can’t use either of our fathers’ names,” James said.

“Definitely not,” Lily agreed. This was a conversation they’d already had, and something they’d agreed on right after they had decided to keep the baby. However, there was a certain comfort in reiterating it now.

“My dad’s name is ridiculous, and he’d come back from the dead if we tried to pass it on to our son,” James said. As much as his father had taken a fierce sort of pride in his unusual name later on in life, he’d told James quite frankly that he should not pass it on down the family line. His thoughtful, kindhearted father said he wouldn’t wish the teasing he’d suffered as a child to be passed on to his grandchild.

“And my dad’s name is out for obvious reasons,” Lily said. James could practically hear her rolling her eyes in the darkness, and he sniggered.

“Yeah, Sirius would throw a tantrum,” James said. Lily’s dad’s name was Peter, and giving their potential son the same name as one of James’s closest friends would have made Sirius jealous. Peter Potter would have been another ridiculous name anyway. Even worse than Fleamont.

“Would you want to use your name as a middle name?” Lily asked.

James thought about it for a moment. There was a part of him that wanted to dismiss it as a silly tradition just as Lily had, but he couldn’t. If he had a son, he wanted to give his boy his name. He wanted to give his child everything of himself, name included.

“Will you hate me if I say yes?” James asked in turn.

“No,” Lily said, snuggling up against James’s shoulder. “I happen to like your name. That still leaves us in need of a first name though.”

“Well, do you want something more eccentric or more mundane?” James asked. He was sorting through all the names he could think of in his head, but all of them seemed to have other meanings or other identities attached to them.

“You mean, do I want something more wizarding, or something more Muggle?” Lily asked. James shrugged the shoulder that her head was laying on.

“And what would you call my name, dearest?” James asked teasingly.

“I would call it your parents’ act of rebellion against their own parents’ naming choices,” Lily replied primly. “Something more Muggle though, I think.”

“Elvendork’s officially out then,” James said with exaggerated sorrow. “Sirius will be crushed, he was really pulling for that one.”

“Ugh, I still can’t tell if he was being serious or just being Sirius about that,” Lily said, shaking her head against James even as she burrowed closer to him. Her feet, still clad in socks despite the warm weather, ran up and down James’s calf.

“You know, I’m not entirely sure either,” James said. His throat tightened. What was he going to tell Sirius? Or Remus and Peter for that matter? This baby practically belonged to the five of them, not just James and Lily. His friends would be horrified to hear that Voldemort might be after the boy. It would be devastated, and dangerous, and James really, really didn’t want to think about it.

“Right then,” he said instead, trying to fill his name with Muggle-ish names. That at least narrowed it down some. He tossed names like Diomedes and Alberic to the side.

“What about Thomas?” Lily suggested. 

“Thomas James Potter,” James mused aloud. “Thomas Potter…Tom Potter…”

“No,” Lily said. “Now that you’ve said it out loud, I don’t like it. I don’t know why, but it just doesn’t sound right.”

“How about Henry?” James asked. Lily shifted against him, trying to get comfortable. Boy or girl, their baby didn’t give her many comfortable sleeping options these days.

“That was your grandfather’s name, wasn’t it?” she asked.

“Yeah, he died before I was born, but my dad used to tell me stories about him.”

“Will you tell me one of them?” Lily asked.

James was silent for a minute, stroking Lily’s hair as he tried to recall everything his father had told him about Henry Potter.

“He served on the Wizengamot for few years,” James said. “Back around 1915 or 1918, I think. Anyway, it was when Muggles were having their Grand War.”

“Great War,” Lily corrected.

“That’s the one. Well, there was a lot of debate about what the Wizarding World should do about it. We usually didn’t get involved in things like that,” James said. “Muggle politics and Muggle wars were Muggle problems, and it did no one any good for wizards to get involved—that had always been the way things worked. Only some people were saying this war was different, that it was bigger, that there was no way for Wizards to truly avoid it. Of course, that just made some people all the more uppity about keeping out of matters.

“The Minister for Magic at the time even rushed through some bollocks emergency legislation forbidding anyone to get involved in things—not just the fighting, but even protecting civilians or healing the wounded. According to my dad, Grandpa Henry didn’t like that at all, and he had no problem telling anyone, including the minister. He also had no problems challenging that same minister to a duel…”

James spun old family stories for almost an hour until Lily was yawning. Sleep, it seemed, might not be so impossible as they’d originally believed. James closed his eyes and tugged Lily closer to his side.

“Henry James Potter…” Lily mused sleepily. “That’s not a bad name.”

“Yeah,” James agreed. “And there are plenty of nicknames for Henry if we decide we don’t like it so much.”

Lily murmured something that might have been agreement.

Talking around a yawn, James began listing nicknames for their possible son. “We could always shorten it to Hal or Hank or Harry…”

“Mmhmm,” Lily replied. “I like that last one.”

[idreamofhazeleyes]

Snowed In -- TiB Drabble

Idea: Aaliyah, the boys, and Bobby get snowed in at Bobby’s for a day or two.

Tags: @mrswhozeewhatsis @impala-dreamer @winchestergirl-13 @winchestergirl-13 @percussiongirl2017 @optimisticpeacecollector5 @squirrelnotsam @idreamofplaid

Words: 758

Notes: Not sure where this might end up. Early seasons to be sure, might be S4 somewhere. Not exactly how I kinda wanted it to go, but hey. Blame the muse. Not to be confused with #blame the musk

Aaliyah walked into Bobby’s kitchen after kicking her boots against a wall, freeing snow from them. The snow had picked up in the twenty minute drive from town. Traffic could have been better in town where people seemed to be in a mild panic to do their grocery.

“Hey, Liyra,” Dean greeted just as Sam put down a card. “Draw four? Come on, Sammy.”

Aaliyah chuckled to herself as she started putting the food that she brought away. Leave it to the boys to find Uno to pass the time. She opened the fridge to see that it was fuller than usual on her visits. Either Bobby made his own run into town, or that the boys stopped before coming like she did along with Bobby’s own run. It didn’t matter.

“Don’t be sore about it,” she commented, putting her cold food away.

“Easy for you to say. You weren’t down to two cards and ready to win the hand.”

“I’ve been there before with my siblings.” Aaliyah gathered up the empty bags and trashed them. “And I recall a certain game we played…”

“Okay, I get it.”

Aaliyah smirked to herself as she stepped back into the entry way and shed her boots. “Where’s Bobby?”

Sam motioned to the study. “Garth called about some new creature down south.”

“Where down south?”

“Florida.”

“You sure it wasn’t a snake?” Aaliyah started up the washer before picking up her two clothes bags. “Those things get big down there, yah know.”

“Garth said something about a creature like Bigfoot but smelled like a skunk,” Dean added.

“The Skunk Ape?” Aaliyah said as a chuckle came out. “I’ll believe just about anything nowadays, but not that. Or anything else like it.” She put a load of colored clothes into the washer and closed it.

“You believe in wendigos, ghosts, angels, vampires, and shape shifters. But not the Skunk Ape?”

“I didn’t believe in all that before that werewolf back in college.” Aaliyah grabbed her backpack and walked back into the kitchen. She drew four cards and handed them to Dean without looking at them.

“…No, Garth,” Bobby said as Aaliyah entered the study and put her bag on the couch. “There’s no such thing as a Skunk Ape. Go find a new case and leave me alone.” He pulled the phone from his head and ended the call. “Hey, Kid.”

“Hey, Bobby. I made a stop at the store on my way in.” She pulled out the cord for her laptop and plugged it in. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t. From what they’ve been sayin’, this storm could last for a full twenty-four hours.”

Aaliyah made a face at that while she pulled out her laptop and a notebook. She decided to take a few online classes in her spare time between hunts. Maybe it would give her something to fall back onto if she ever got out of hunting. The boys’ voices drifted from the kitchen in a debate over the rules of Uno. Aaliyah chuckled and caught Bobby shaking his head.

Aaliyah went off to change into sweats and a tee shirt while she waited for the laptop to boot up. Bobby had given her the spare bedroom when they all in a way knew she would be coming around more often. She ducked back out of the bathroom and got comfortable on the couch. She could hear the wind howl through the window and shivered a little. She wasn’t sure how old the window was, but knew that it sprung leaks.

Time slipped by with Bobby flipping through the odd book once in a while or taking a phone call from either a hunter or some local law enforcement. One of the brothers started making noise in the kitchen before asking if anyone had a preference for a dinner meal. Reclined back against the arm rest and the laptop propped up on her thighs, Aaliyah fought against her body’s urge to fall asleep. She pushed herself harder in the last hung.

“Go to sleep, kid,” Bobby told her, handing her a thick blanket. “The food will be there later.”

Aaliyah looked at the offered blanket and mentally debated if she should wait for a hot meal or get it later. Another head bob solved the debate. She closed the laptop and put it and the notebook on the floor before taking the blanket. “Thanks, Bobby.”

She settled down as the wind howled again and the boys discussed the finer points on cooking whatever meal was being cooked.