#today’s also my 2 friend’s birthdays & happy pride <3 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

firefly--bright · 1 year

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Hii, can I ask for a painting date with Jeanbo X reader on his birthday please??

Lover.

jean kirstein x gender neutral!reader

summary : two artists being each other's muses.

warnings : maybe writing inconsistencies (?) not proofread.

a/n: thank you so much for this request!!! i loved writing it <3 soft jean supremacy i love this man (he's lines on a screen). ofcourse i made a playlist for this. this is nothing but pure pure fluff and alot of smiley jean :)

tagging : @mrsnobodynobody , @holding-ishu-and-a-book

✿ enter my taglist! ✿ masterlist is linked in pinned post! ✿ fic playlist ✿

art creds : @/koidezuu on twt!

✿

you exhaled nervously, checking the front camera of your phone to make sure that you looked just as you wanted to, putting all of your faith in your other hand to clutch both the bouquet of flowers, and the actual gift you had made for jean - a bracelet strung with a charm he had eyed at a thrift store, and some pretty beads.

seeing that everything was set, you knocked on his front door and waited for him to answer.

April 7th, your beloved's birthday. you only hoped that your birthday gift to him made him feel just as special as he made you feel everyday. he deserved to be pampered too, especially on this day.

you had called him as midnight struck last night, pouring all your love into the biggest snd brightest "happy birthday, jean!" you could muster, which turned out to be loud enough to wake up your roomate. it was worth it, though, because his laugh lit up the entire screen despite it's pre-set brightness. the two of you talked till about 2 a.m., and you informed him to be ready the next day for a special date.

you had everything prepared : booking an art studio - which you had saved plenty for - a month in advance, making sure everything was all set up; the canvases, the paints, aprons, and charcoals (jean's favourite medium to work with.) you decorated it aptly with the help of sasha, who stole some of the cupcakes you had also made for jean as compensation. after this elaborate date, you'd drive him home, where he'd be greeted with the rest of his friends for a surprise birthday party, which you had also planned.

he deserved this. he deserved so much more than this, but for now, this would have to do. jean kirstein, resident asshole up until a couple years ago, somehow softened over time, and somehow also fell in love with you as you did with him not long before.

you hoped everything would go according to plan. jean took his lovesickness in pride, never missing out on an opportunity to spoil you, and you wanted to return the favour tenfold.

you knocked on the door, adjusting the objects in your hands, shaking your head to rid all the anxious thoughts.

a terrible effort, because jean rid them for you as soon as he opened the door.

your heart could burst out of your chest, and you could barely control the expression on your face as you broke into a wide smile.

he was dressed in his best colour; sage green. the hoodie fell just above his belly button, and it was clear that he cropped it himself. impulsively, as he did most things, but it somehow came out not as bad as you'd think. the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and there was a small embroidered star on the right side of his chest. he wore a hat that you had given him, yet another impulsive buy. the matching hat of the two currently hung behind your door. his fingers were adorned with metal bands, some plain and some with a pop of blue in them that matched the colour of his jeans.

the best part was his smile.

he wore the same smile he always did when he saw you, except today, his eyes had an extra glint.

"hi, love." he said.

"hi." you say, clearing your throat, "happy birthday, jean."

the statement came out as more of a whisper than an exclamation, and maybe that made it better because it was only something he was supposed to hear.

you presented him the bouquet of orchids you had bought. his smile widened, if that was even possible.

"i bought these for you."

he chuckled. "why are you nervous, babe?" he said, taking the flowers from your hands. you rolled your eyes as he did, as if the answer was obvious.

"i wanted to impress you, dumbass."

there was a beat of silence.

"m-me?" jean says, surprised. you nod.

"i mean, it is your birthday, so."

another beat passes. you look into his eyes, catching a glimpse of his reddening cheeks.

almost six months of dating and you couldn't believe you still had that effect on him. you breath out a smile and pull him closer by the front of his shirt.

placing your lips on his cheek, you trail kisses till the path of his lips, meeting there and waiting, patiently, for him to push forward and give you a kiss himself.

jean delivers. when he kisses you, you can feel the smile against your lips and smell his fragrance he wore especially for this occasion. his hair brushes against your forehead, and his trimmed stubble tickles your chin. you smile too, and now it's barely even a kiss; more just two pairs of smiling lips closely aligned, but you still pull away just as breathless.

the blush on Jean's cheek had nothing but deepend and you swallow a laugh at that. he always complained about how easily he could blush, but it was always something you liked about him.

"what's that?" he asks, eyes pointing to the box in your hands.

"patience, babe. all in good time." you say, "come on, i have a whole day planned for you."

jean smiled, brushing his hand through his hair. "can't wait."

the car ride there was mostly filled with you and jean screaming Jean's favourite songs out till your heart's content. his favourite songs had quickly became your favourite too, and vice versa. jean couldn't sing if your weren't singing with him, so you happily accompanied him in the act. after half of the playlist had finished, you reached your destination.

it was an art studio that you had found out on the internet, and people in the comments were raving about the space and view that struck them with inspiration. and sure enough, it was beautiful.

located in a large garage-looking loft on one of the far secluded corners of the beach, the letters "Raven's Studios" were plastered on the big doors in a bold red font. jean took in the place with surprise written all over his features, not knowing that out of all places, this would be the one you were driving to.

the inside was spacious, the windows streched over the expanse of the wall, overlooking the blue waters with boats cruising on it. there were two canvases placed near the windows, both facing each other. all the other materials were placed carefully (and double checked) on a wooden table that had old paint splattered on it's surface, on the far left, along with the remainder chocolate cupcakes and an empty vase waiting to be filled up with the orchids you bought for jean.

you gauged Jean's reaction, who stood near the doorway. his mouth was slightly hung open, eyes scanning over each carefully thought out detail. his left hand still gripped the bouquet, his right holding his phone and his hat.

you bit the inside of your lip in anticipation as he walked further inside.

jean let out a low whistle. "holy shit." was all he could muster up, and the tone his voice helped you relax a little.

"do you like it? i didn't know which medium you wanted to draw with, but you told me about how you really wantsd to have an art date, and i figured why not, you know?" your nervous voice bounced around the four walls. jean stood near the large windows now, hands on his hips. you continued, filling in the space with your rambling, "and some cupcakes, i got the recipie from your mom....she had to take it from the bakery you told me about, the one that sold those cheescakes you really liked near your old house.... but sasha ate some of them, of course-"

"it's perfect." jean said. he had turned towards you now, walking to where you were standing, still lingering near the doorway.

you didn't notice when he had placed all his belongings on the space on the table, and his hands now cupped your cheeks gently, his thumb rubbing ticklish circles on your cheekbones.

his smile was radiant, the corners of his eyes crinkling. there was a sparkle in them, his smile showing his teeth, his exhale blowing a puff of air over your face.

"thank you," he said, kissing your cheek, then the tip of your nose - which immediately scrunched up under his lips - and then finally a fleeting kiss on your smiling lips.

"don't thank me. it's my pleasure, birthday boy."

his face scrunched with that comment. "please dont call me that. it makes me feel like I'm...ten years old or something."

you tilt your head, his hands still on your face, with a teasing smirk. "jean-boy, then?"

he rolled his eyes. "you just love ruining the moment, don't you?"

"you love me." you said.

his expression softened. "that I do."

the playlist you made specially for this occasion flowed through the room beautifully, and the brilliantly blue sky gave off a blue hue to the inside of the white room. the wind ruffled Jean's hair, and the waves crashing into the shore made it all the more beautiful to look at him.

he had opted for the charcoals, as you had guessed, grabbing one of the papers and making himself comfortable on the ground near the window. you sat behind him, choosing a canvas and some acrylic paints in all the different blues you could get your hands on, along with some colours to paint jean.

your view - the one you had decided to paint - included the bright blue skies, littered with clouds, the calm sea, the rim of half of the window, and Jean's side profile. mapping your painting on your canvas, you tried not to notice Jean's skittish glances towards your face.

jean definitely had your face memorized by now. if someone asked him to, he'd be able to give them a vivid description of you without even having to close his eyes. he could probably name all of the parts of your body that he loved, and he'd seen the back of your hand more than he had seen his own by now. thank god you hadn't seen the sketchbook he kept hidden from you, which was filled with drawings of you doing absolutely nothing but breathing.

yes, jean definitely had your face memorized by now. but he was looking at you because he knew you were painting him, because there was so much care and comfort held in your eyes as you got the silohette of his side profile just right, because you saw him as your muse. as if today hadn't been special enough, he swore all his dreams came true the moment your hands began to sketch the scenery out.

Jean's mind couldn't focus on the art he was supposed to be making, not like this. which was ironic, because given the conditions, it shoudlve been more than enough for him to find inspiration in this beauty. but he couldn't help it; his muse was sitting there, blinking and breathing and creating, painting him. he couldn't help but do what his muscles grew familiar to now - draw you.

jean tried not to move as he sketched out your face, then your body, and your hands that were moving over your own canvas.

" can I go, where you go?

can we always be this close? "

jean heard you hum to the song that everyone came to associate with the two of you. all of his friends, who were your friends too, thought that this song was the most fitting for you, and jean couldn't agree more. jean wanted to stick by your side, do all the mundane things that life brought to him every day of the year, and do all the special things too, like the one he was currently doing. jean smiled, joining your hums, and he knew you had the same smile etched in your face as the one he was recreating on his rough paper.

his hands stained with charcoal, he drew flowers all around you, messily adding petals in a way that he knew would still make sense.

he snuck another glance at your form. you were so pretty it made his heart physically hurt.

his birthday was something he slightly dreaded throughout the year. when he was younger, he didn't have many people except his mother to celebrate the day with. it stayed that way, the same traditions up until highschool, where he met marco, when he began to look forward to his birthday a little. then came sasha and Connie, and soon the rest of his friends made the day as special as they could. every year would be somewhat the same, but it was comfortable, and jean didn't feel consumed by the lingering lonliness that he usually felt as a kid. he desperately wished to be someone special to another someone special as he blew out his birthday candles every year.

and then he met you, and all that he had been wishing for made sense. he became someone special to someone remarkable; to you. the thought enough made him want to climb onto the tallest roof of the world and scream out your names together, so that the clouds could hear him and make sure their rains would bring nothing but pleasant memories of your first kiss together.

jean bit back a giddy smile. being with you, spending the day, this day, together with you made him feel like he was standing on top of the same clouds now.

he glanced at the table, mind whirring as to what he could make next. there was no question in his mind that all he was able to draw was you, but he wanted to experiment with different colours and mediums.

getting up, he brushed his hands on the apron that you had left out for him, making his way over to the table. he heard your soft dissapointed sigh at his sudden movement, and he tried not to smirk, failing miserably.

"you should take a picture, love, it'll last longer." he says, back to you.

he could almost feel the glare you shot his back, but didn't have a response to follow. jean picked up the box of pastel colours from the table, turning his head towards where you sat, and suddenly the lack of a response from you made sense.

you had picked up your phone, thumb clicking Jean's numerous pictures. even though your phone was somewhat covering your face, jean could still see you smiling from behind the screen, biting your bottom lip to contain it with futile efforts.

jean smiled softly, "what happened to not wanting to 'boost my ego' ?" he asked, recalling the time you refused to admit how good he looked on your last date.

he heard you snicker, your phone still held up to sheild your face, still clicking pictures. jean was pretty sure your phone would run out of space to store those pictures soon, but you didn't seem to care, making jean smile even wider.

"i mean, if you want me to stop-" you started, but jean cut you off with a "i never said that."

he striked a pose, smouldering comically, running a hand through his hair.

you laughed, Jean's stomach swirling at the sound. he'd strike a hundred poses if it kept you laughing.

"you're such a goof, kirstein."

"dont let the others look at this, they'll never shut up about it."

"well...." you said, stretching the word out teasingly, putting your phone down now. "i make no promises." you say, shrugging.

"i knew it. you like betraying me, don't you?" jean walks over to you, box of pastels in hand.

"was that not obvious enough?"

he crouches, left knee hitting the ground, the heel of his other foot planted solidly. his elbow rested on his kneecap, the sleeves of his cropped hoodie still rolled up.

"nope," he says with a smile.

"sorry, I promise I'll do better next time." you match his smile.

he hums lowly, refusing to take his eyes off of yours. shivers run down your spine, and the change in music barely registers in your mind.

the teasing smirk returns to your face.

"are you gonna kiss me or just keep looking at me like that?"

but jean remains motionless, glancing down at your painting instead. his eyes glint with the sun from the window, which was now tilting slowly towards the horizon, threatening to dip into the sea. it remained bright, though, and you couldn't help but think that it's shine was just for the two of you. Jean's side glowed softly with the light, his hair almost shining.

"say please," he says, and it reminds you of all the times he had joked about kissing you before you were together.

you rolled your eyes again, but your smile refused to move. "please kiss me, jean, you're the only thing that's keeping me afloat in this abyss of darkn-"

he kissed you mid-sentence, and he tasted like the chocolate cupcakes you had made.

his hands rested on the base of your neck, the warmth of which made your heart race. his hands still had smudged charcoal on them, but you didn't care. you'd let him taint you with the most hideous colour he could mix together, and you'd still wear it proudly.

pulling away, he rested his forehead against your own. you grew to realise that he liked that; he liked your noses almost brushing, lips only inches away from each other. his eyes reminded close but his eyelashes fluttered, tickling your cheek.

"thank you," he whispered.

you shook your head slightly, opening your mouth to answer him, but he silenced you once again with his own sentence. "i know you don't want me to thank you, but thank you. not just for today but for...everything, honestly." he pulled away a bit, eyes opening to look into yours with so much intensity and warmth, your simmering love could've boiled over.

"i love you," you said, hand reaching out to rest on his jaw.

painting long forgotten, jean smiled again. "i love you too."

✿

#jean kirstein #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein x you #jean kirschstein x reader #aot #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #jean kirschtien #jean kirstein fanfiction

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starrystevie · 1 year

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hiya everyone! the month of june is a big one for not only myself personally but also for this blog so we'll be celebrating a few things:

my own birthday on june 24th!

reaching 2k followers! (which is still mind blowing where did y'all come from)

pride month!

now i may not be a gif maker or edit maker, but i do want to celebrate by interacting with you all in the ways i know how! i'm going to be hosting what i like to call "roll for...?", a mysterious way to get stranger things content from me for the rest of the month. starting today, june 13, you can send me in asks for things to roll for (just make sure you go over the rules before sending in an ask pls <3)

if you're interested in participating, click the read more for the rules!

how it works:

i'll have the following categories to pick from: drabble, playlist, or aesthetic/moodboard. pick one of those categories and then select up to 3 of the following subcategories for me to roll specifics for: ship, trope, vibe/colors, length, era, crossover. whatever subcategories go unchosen, i can use if i want to! each of the subcategories will have a few options in them that i will then roll for to leave the final product up to the luck of the roll. if needed, any additional details will be left up to me! if you would like it to be entirely my pick, please select 3 ships listed below for me to choose from and i will take it from there. warning, some categories will be easier for me to combine than others (ie vibe with crossover might be challenging) so please take every post with a grain of salt. this is all just for fun. these will be posted as i can get them done, so feel free to send in asks whenever you want to! i will stop accepting asks for this project on june 30th but will probably still have things to post after that. all posts will be tagged with #rollfor2023 to help keep things organized.

important to know!:

if you have any triggers or things you wouldn't want to me to include, please let me know what to avoid. i'll honor it no questions asked. all drabbles will be rated anywhere from general to mature with absolutely zero explicit smut unless you tell me you are comfortable with it being included. overcommunicate with me and we'll both be happy campers!

subcategory specifics:

ship: 1. steve/eddie, 2. robin/nancy, 3. robin/chrissy, 4. jonathan/argyle, 5. joyce/hopper, 6. bee's pick of steve ship (platonic or romantic) trope: 1. enemies to lovers, 2. friends to lovers, 3. one bed, 4. the italicized 'oh', 5. soulmates, 6. bee's pick of shop au vibe/colors: 1. whimsical/pastels, 2. angst/dark muted, 3. hopeless romantic/soft pinks, 4. cheerful/bright & bold, 5. bittersweet/blues & greys, 6. angry/dark reds length (around a certain word/song count): 1. 100-300 words/3 songs, 2. 300-500 words/5 songs, 3. 500-750 words/8 songs, 4. 750-1000 words/10 songs, 5. 1000-1500 words/15 songs, 6. bee's pick era: 1. ancient greek, 2. 1980s, 3. modern/2020s, 4. 1800s wild west, 5. 1940s, 6. unspecified fantasy world timeline ala lotr or got crossover (all chosen from my favorites!): 1. moulin rogue, 2. across the universe, 3. bee's pick of disney movie, 4. grishaverse, 5. glee, 6. supernatural

an example ask (can copy / paste if you'd like!):

i would like a drabble with a roll for ship, length, and crossover. avoid character death and mentions of drugs.

i hope this makes sense, so please let me know if you have questions! i'm truly just wanting to do something fun for the hell of it because isn't that we're all here for anyway?! rejoining the fandom side of tumblr this time last year has been such a great decision. i've been able to meet so many of you wonderful people and remember what it's like to enjoy fandom spaces again without shame. best of all, it's gotten me writing again, which had been such a big part of my hobbies that i had pushed aside. getting back into writing as a way to express myself and make content with some fucking guys from some fucking tv show has made a massive difference in my happiness over the last year.

i thank you all so sincerely for being with me along the ride. tagging some of my beloved buds here in no possible order because if it weren't for y'alls support, i never would have written half the things i have. thank you from the bottom of my heart, truly <3

@buckleydiaz @thefreakandthehair @yournowheregirl @scoops-stevie @gothbat99 @bayouteche @toburnup @stevethehairington @judasofsuburbia @henderdads @sharpbutsoft @kkpwnall @figthefruitfaeth @fastcardotmp3 @fragilecapric0rnn @wynnyfryd @stargyles @jeysuso @bitchsteve @lovespiralls @riality-check @cheatghost @legitcookie @hellsfireclub @sanguineterrain @kingofscoops @roykentt @sidekick-hero

#rollfor2023 #i was going to wait to post this but nah i wanted to go ahead and do it now #especially since i'm all anxious waiting for my bigbang claim email #love literally all of you sm thank you for maki ng tumblr fun #pls ignore any spelling errors but don't ignore if something doesn't make sense so i can clear it up #steddie #ronance #buckingham #jargyle #jopper #stranger than things #stranger things prompts

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thefringespod · 10 months

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A year ago today I released the first episode of Tales From the Fringes of Reality. It was one of the scariest and most exciting things I've ever done in my life and it turned out better than I could've hoped. This show started in my dorm room in the middle of the pandemic and it grew and changed with me. It's the first piece of work I've ever published with the name I *chose* on it. I got my name from writing this show, stealing it from my main character and taking it for myself. I've poured all of myself into this show and love it so much

Then this year I was able to invite more people into this world I've built and ended up with the most wonderful cast I could've dreamed of. I couldn't imagine a better group of people to bring this story I wrote to life and im so grateful for them. To my phenomenal cast: thank you thank you thank you. Thank you for gifting my writing with your voices and for taking such great care of these characters I've created. I truly couldn't have done this without you and cannot wait to share what you've done with everyone

I also need to shout out Tay and Tot specifically for trusting me with their voices and letting me pack bond with them and drag them into even more podcasts. I cant believe how lucky I am to know yall and to get to be your friends over the course of this show <3

And I'd be absolutely nowhere without my friend Percy who has been my biggest fan through this all. I wouldn't have been able to do this without his support and will pepper in that fact whenever I can. Thanks for everything, Percy <3

And of course thank you to everyone who has listened to this show! When I started publishing episodes I wasn't sure if anyone would listen or care but people did and im so incredibly grateful to each and every person who's listened

Season 2 started yesterday, almost exactly a year after this show started. I'm so excited to keep sharing this show with y'all and for everything that's coming for the Fringes moving forward.

Happy birthday to the Fringes! It's my absolute pride and joy <3

#tales from the fringes of reality #pines notes

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txemrn · 2 years

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Wounded

Book: TRR/TRH Post-series

Pairing: Liam Rys x MC (Riley Brooks-Rys)

Word count: ~2500

Song Inspo: "Wounded" - Maddie Wilson

Warning: for mature audience only; the TW are the plot twists in this story; if you are not sure if you want to read this and/or you are a fairly sensitive reader (nothing wrong with that!), scroll to the very end of this post (right above the tags) for a more specific list of TW

A/N: I am SUPER pumped to be participating in week 9 of @choicesflashfics prompt challenge! I chose prompt #3: “I don’t know what I thought was going to happen, but this was definitely not it.” The prompt will be in bold.

A/N 2: Most of the characters and some of the plot points belong to our friends at Pixelberry; HUGE thanks to my dear friend (and birthday girl) @sfb123 for pre-reading this for me. Please excuse my errors! Also, if you are curious about Royal Roulette: it's a fun little challenge you can do anytime for yourself! Take your music and hit mix! Take the first song that pops up, and use it as a muse for a fic! No need to credit me, but do tag me if you do it because I LOVE reading other RR!

~🖤~

(Present)

It's just past 8PM, and I find myself in the tiled coffin of my personal sanctuary: my shower. The balmy steam hides the evidence of my swollen, tear-stained cheeks, my own words replaced by wails of mercy. The sweltering water stings across my porcelain skin, the unbearable discomfort distracting from the emptiness, the nothingness of my shattered, lifeless heart.

Today. Of all days, why today?

If only my body didn't complicate things...

If only my body did what it was supposed to do…

If only my body did what I was crowned to do…

Liam and I have spent over six years testing every last inch of my body for an answer. The simple answer is polycystic ovarian syndrome… if only life were that simple…

------

(Yesterday)

"PCOS isn't what it used to be, though. There are so many women living with it–myself included!" Savannah takes another bite of cake, and I've never been more grateful in all my life for the reprieve from her voice. This is my fourth time hearing this speech about PCOS, and how the diagnosis is taken 'too seriously'. I mean, afterall, we are at her baby shower for Beaumont baby number two. And three. "They gave me the same talk, blah blah blah, percent this and that, and after taking Clomid for only two months," she smiles joyfully, massaging her rounded belly.

I fake a smile, shoveling some fruit salad in my mouth in hopes of keeping my sharp tongue quiet. I'm happy for her; I really am. .

But she's also never lost a baby. Or three.

Two months? 'Only' two months? God…

Liam and I have been prescribed every drug on the market to conceive; we've even tried more natural, holistic remedies, like crushed up superfoods and tree roots, tiny needles being stuck in my eyelids and in between my toes, religious relics and crystals

God, if you've never experienced humility before, the struggle with infertility will strip you bare of any pride left in your body, and after six different specialists, we finally resorted to my biggest–our biggest fear: in vitro fertilization.

But, IVF might actually be the answer to our infertility story.

As Savannah answers more intrusive pregnancy questions about her own body from our close family and friends, my mind disengages. Shielding the bright sun from my eyes, I look across the palace's heavily-decorated back lawn. Soft petal pink and pearl-colored balloons litter the divine scenery. Signage that boasts kitschy baby phrases seem to be multiplying before my eyes.

I feel a sudden shift in the atmosphere, one that is making me feel– I don't know… funny? I don't feel like myself. In fact, I'm starting to feel slightly ill.

An abrupt piercing shrill of pressure shoots through my temples as my breathing quickens. A trickle of sweat courses down my back as everything begins to spin wildly around me. The laughter of the group of women I'm with becomes sinister and terrifying.

I need to get out of here…

"What an exquisite group of lovely ladies!"

Leo Rys, my ever-charming, newly-divorced brother-in-law. He is well-trained in managing a crowd, but the heart-throb is a master at wooing a very specific demographic: women.

Case in point.

"Sav," he tenderly takes her hand in his, "you look absolutely radiant. Where is that foolish husband of yours, leaving your beautiful self alone–" he slows down his flirting rampage, and I instantly look up, making contact with those familiar Rys crystal-blue eyes. He mouths, 'Are you okay?' before taking out his phone, no doubt to text Liam. "'Scuse me, ladies," Leo nods with a forced, jubilant grin.

With a skip in his step, my brother-in-law takes a knee while placing a tender touch on my clammy arm. "You're looking a little green there, sis," his lips curl softly as he pushes back my careless wisps.

"Kermit the Frog did warn us that it's not easy being green,'' I chuckle. The vibrations of my voice soothe my slightly queasy stomach. I relax further into my chair, fanning myself as I pull my oversize sunglasses over my eyes. "I'm fine," I grin cheekily, welcoming a sudden cool breeze over my skin.

His phone chimes. "Eh… negatory," he snickers under his breath, holding out his hand for me to take it. "The queen has been summoned to his majesty's presence."

Damnit, what did he say to him?

"You better not be making my husband worry about me–"

"Someone needs to keep an eye on your bad self," Leo jokingly winks. "C'mon."

And maybe it was a good thing for me to get away from those women, to get away from this party and out of the sun. I do have a lot on my mind as well–too much actually. Enough to make anyone unwell.

I hate exiting groups earlier than expected. I just… I just know the inevitable will happen when I leave: they will talk about Liam and me. Worse, they will look at us as if… as if we're wounded.

Gone are the days of hailing us as the 'it' couple…

Gone are the days of discussing our bright future…

Gosh, I really don't feel all too well as I stand up with Leo's assistance, but we make it inside the palace to a secluded sunroom. Bracing myself, I ease into a lounge chair while Leo helps me prop up my feet.

He really is a kind man, much like Liam. I hope he knows how much his return to Cordonia has meant to us as a family, especially his brother. Sure, we have staff that can help us with the countless doctor's appointments and emergency trips to the hospital, but these are intimate times that should be spent with family. And I'm glad it's with Leo.

"Are you okay, love?" Liam appears at the opposite end of the quarters. Worry is etched across his face as he slowly saunters to my side. "I got here as soon as I–"

I wave my hands in the air. "I'm fine, babe. I think I just got a little overheated," I playfully roll my eyes.

He lets out a slow exhale, wiping the perspiration off of my forehead. "You know better–"

"I know, I know," I raise my hands in surrender as he kisses my head. He's always watching me closely, so carefully, especially with so many hormones pumping through my veins.

"I'll leave you two alone," Leo clicks his tongue as he casually shoves his fists into his khaki shorts. "Text me."

Liam stops him, leaning in closely to whisper, "Grab us some seltzers please. And crackers." Leo nods as Liam makes himself comfortable next to me.

I sit up, adjusting the pillows around my husband before I quickly find the crook of his arm. My crook. By the time I am settled, my gaze is happily met by his.

God, I love him.

Even after all of this time, he still looks at me like I'm the only woman in the room. He doesn't see my shortcomings as a wife or as a queen. He sees me… and still loves me.

I study his face, counting the fine lines around his eyes. He's beautiful, but this has taken quite the toll on us, aging us both. I reach up to caress the perfectly smooth skin of his jaw, my thumb tracing over his dry lips.

He pulls my hand from his face, peppering the inside of my wrist with sweet kisses. He finally rests my palm on his chest, weaving his finger through mine.

I hate that it takes loss to make us appreciate life more, but watching each rise and fall of our hands reminds me that right now, in this moment, we have each other. And each heartbeat, each breath is to be cherished.

Suddenly, we hear a voice clear behind us. "Are you not well, your majesty?" Gretchen, our part-time nurse, carries a tray of snacks and seltzers into the sunroom.

"Oh, Ms. Gretchen," I quickly wipe away my tears, brightening to her approach. "We're fine."

She is an older woman who actually helped care for Liam's mother in her pregnancies, and also for his father in the end. Liam trusts her, and he thought hiring her would be immensely helpful to us right now.

And he was right; she's been a perfect angel. I don't know what I would've done without her help.

"Leo told me what happened." She pulls up an end table, setting the wooden tray down. "It’s too early for your medicine, but I figured some refreshing snacks might be in order."

"Mmmm," I hum with approval as Liam helps me sit up. "This looks absolutely perfect. Thank you."

Gretchen kindly bows before excusing herself.

I grab a piece of toast, spreading some fresh apple-butter on top. "Have you eaten today?" I pass him a ginger ale as I take a sip of my drink.

I abruptly stop fumbling with the tray when I feel his steely-stare boring holes into me. I glance once, then twice as I watch a large Cheshire grin crawl across his mouth.

"What?" I chuckle as I take a bite of my toast. "You have trouble written all over that face."

He wiggles his eyebrows as he pulls me safely back into his arms, our lips instantly meeting. His tongue swipes eagerly in my mouth. "Baby!" I squeal, pushing back from him as I wipe the corners of my mouth.

He snickers, swiping his thumb across his lips before sucking on it. "Mmmm," he quietly moans, "just what I thought." I raise my eyebrows in curiosity. "That's the best damn apple-butter I've ever tasted." He tenderly squeezes my bottom as I claim his lips again. And again.

I love this man.

I rest my head back on his chest, listening to the deep thrumming of his heart. My home. We lay in perfect silence, watching the shadows shift throughout the afternoon glow.

But as the sun sinks lower into the earth, I feel my body cling tighter to Liam.

"What are you thinking?" he whispers gravelly.

Damn him. He knows me too well. I reposition myself, sitting up on my side. My eyes begin to sting as tears threaten to fall. I grip his shirt as his fingertips lightly trace the freckles on the back of my arm.

"About tomorrow," I quietly exhale.

"The doctor's appointment?" He drops his hands to my lower abdomen, giving it a hopeful caress.

Overwhelmed with emotion, I can only nod my head, my breath hitching in my chest as I nuzzle into his shoulder.

Damnit, why us?

"Riley," he croons, enveloping his arms around me. His fingertips become lost in my waves as his lips press intimately against the shell of my ear.

"I–I'm so scared, baby," I whisper, my voice rattled with hoarseness as I wrap my arms around him.

"Shhh," he pulls me closer. He gently rocks my body, a hand tracing soft figure-eights across me back. "Me too."

------

It's early. Liam and I sit in the doctor's office, waiting for her to return with our test results so we can form the next plan of action for our family.

I've been sick most of the morning, my nerves getting the best of me. But Liam remains steadfast, my rock. He's been reassuring me all morning, wiping my anxious tears away. He refuses to let go of my hand.

A child needs a father like him; this can't be the end of our journey. It… it just can't be.

We hear a click, and Dr. Nguyen walks into the room with a thick file folder. I can't read her as she takes a seat, but suddenly, I see my husband's knee begin to anxiously bounce.

She finally makes eye contact with us, revealing her swollen, red eyes as if she's been crying for days. She clears her throat, dabbing at her cheeks. "Your majesties, I–" she stops to gain control of herself. “I don’t know what I thought was going to happen, but this was definitely not it.”

Her voice trails off as a subtle ringing forms in my ears, and suddenly, everything seems to be moving in slow motion. Liam let's go of my hand; he rests his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands.

I take a deep breath, shaking my head. What just happened? I've missed something. I frantically look between my husband and his oncologist. "I–I'm sorry. What?"

"I'm sorry, your majesty," she swallows back the lump in her throat having to deliver the news again. "The cancer? It–it didn't respond to the treatment. And from his scan last week, there are new spots on his kidneys, liver and lungs."

I blink a couple of times, feeling as though I don't know what all of this means. Because it can't possibly mean what I think she is saying.

He's not dying. He can't be dying…

"So," I swallow thickly, "you have a plan. Right?"

"Well," the physician folds her hands on the desk. "We… can… make him as comfortable as possible–"

"I'm sorry," I interrupt. "Are you–are you saying that my husband...?" I pause as I gasp for a morsel of air. "The love of my life is, that he... he's–?" I clamp my hand over my mouth. No, I can't-- I refuse to say it.

But through the blur of my tears, I see the truth.

She’s nodding.

------

(Present)

"Riley?"

I break from my thoughts as I turn towards the deep voice. There at the entrance to the shower towers the most handsome man I have ever seen… or will ever see. His golden curls have been gone for months; he and his best friends shaved their heads when he first started chemotherapy a year ago. His shoulders are still broad, but with his colon resection and loss of appetite, he's thinned out quite a bit.

He is weaker; his skin has weathered. But he's still my Liam. Even in all of this, he remains my North Star, my hope and my strength.

Which is why I can't get out of the shower. Not yet.

He flashes me a crooked smile, handing me a towel. "C'mon, love," he turns off the shower.

I carefully stand up, wrapping the towel around my damp body. Liam extends his large hand towards me, my petite grip finding his palm. He leads me out of the shower and twirls me into an embrace, my back against his chest.

He buries kisses into my hair and across my shoulders. "I need you," he lovingly growls.

Then he tenderly drops his hands to my growing, pregnant belly. "And I need you too, my little peanut."

My poor husband… how do I do this?

Without warning, a rush of agony roars around my 22-week abdomen, the abrupt sharp pain causing me to double-over. I grab onto the sink in front of me as I groan from the intense throbbing.

This can't be happening.

"Riley?" Liam steps out of the bathroom, and hollers down the hallway. "Leo! We need help!" He takes me back into his arms. "What is it? What's wrong?"

The pain subsides, and I begin to sob. I can't look at him.

Today. Of all days, why today?

"Liam," I choke out , "my water broke."

~🖤~

TAGS (updated 09/2022; please let me know if you wish to be added/removed):

PERMA

@21-wishes @alj4890 @ao719 @charlotteg234 @issabees @kat-tia801 @kingliam2019 @mainstreetreader @mom2000aggie @neotericthemis @nikirennie87 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam

ALL TRR

@3pawandme @alyshak92 @iaminlovewithtrr @lovingchoices14 @malblk21 @rubiwalker @sfb123 @twinkleallnight

***

TRIGGER WARNINGS: discussion of infertility; discussion of cancer; insinuation of a major character death; miscarriage

***

#the royal romance #choices trr #trr fanfic #choices fanfic #liam rys #king liam rys #liam x mc #liam x riley #royal roulette #choices flashfics #prompt challenge

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1-tiger-every-day · 2 years

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We are almost 3/4 of the way through the year, and... frankly I didn't know if I would make it this far. Probably, if you'd asked me in January if I guessed I'd still be doing this in late September, I would have told you no -- probably predicting I'd fall off the wagon sometime in March. Normally I suck at routines, consistency, and regularly creating without getting sucked into an art block or paralysed with indecision between multiple projects! I've never been able to run a consistent art blog on tumblr or anywhere else -- before long, life would get in the way, and the thing would end up gathering virtual dust and taunting me with its emptiness.

I wanted to reflect on a couple of the factors I think have helped me keep going this time, when previous projects have fallen by the wayside.

1. Clearly defined goal with obvious limitations. The instruction is simple: make one tiger, every day. It doesn't matter how good the tiger is. It doesn't matter if it took ten seconds or two hours. It just has to exist. And because that goal is quite achieveable, it creates a positive feedback loop that means drawing tigers - oh, my! - doesn't feel so scary after a while.

2. On a related topic: it's also a free enough prompt that I have space to play around every day, finding new and creative ways to fulfil the criteria. I can make a tiger sculpture. Once I made a tiger quiz. I made a 3D sculpt of a tiger in Blender that was an affront to God. I can try out new media, materials, and programs. And if it doesn't work out, oh well! There's always tomorrow.

3. Tiger intern T: I honestly think that this blog might have foundered over the summer if it weren't for T. When I'm struggling with hand pain, fatigue, illness or Just Not Wanting To Draw A Fucking Tiger Today, he steps in and picks up the slack. I really feel grateful and im happy to share this project with someone. I'll still feel just as much of an achievement at the end of the year, but better because the celebration will be shared 😊

4. Gifting tigers: whether it's little presents for friends or fulfilling requests from strangers in my askbox (provided they ask nicely😅), I love to make my tigers for other people, or even for myself. It's become a nice way of keeping a diary of special days in my year, from birthdays, pride, and holidays to more poignant occasions. Which brings me to my last point...

5. Not to be cheesy, but... YOU! I read every single tag, ask and comment that I get on these tigers. I can't believe there are 1100+ people following this little blog now, and especially those of you who regularly leave nice tags or replies: just know that you make my day every time, and I would definitely have given up posting my shitty tigers into the void by now if it wasn't for you. THANK YOU 🐯(P.s. I know I have an unanswered ask in my askbox right now, to the asker, I loved your question and I promise I'll reply asap!!! I have not forgotten you! 🧡!)

6 (bonus): other artists inspired by the form of the tiger, including illustrators, poets, sculptors, painters... i try to reblog a handful of my favourites, so you can all enjoy them as well!

#if this was instagram I'd have given up by fucking february #hear me roar #update #art process #artist #love you all 🏵

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phoenixiancrystallist · 2 years

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I posted 53,811 times in 2022

That's 11,910 more posts than 2021!

350 posts created (1%)

53,461 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@prismatic-bell

@hearts-guided-key

@lunarlegend

@thatrandombystander

@neato-burrito-scream-dorito

I tagged 5,180 of my posts in 2022

#my husband is so beautiful ugaiz 😍 - 358 posts

#bobbi's being weird again - 348 posts

#art - 342 posts

#the great artscapade of 2022 - 309 posts

#my art - 298 posts

#precious chocobean - 158 posts

#heralds of the queue - 118 posts

#friend oc - 106 posts

#untitled gunpla comic - 90 posts

#khdr spoilers - 88 posts

Longest Tag: 141 characters

#he's taking his li'l paw and putting it on my hands or my arm and then meowing and staring at me like 🥺 because i'm not actively petting him

My Top Posts in 2022:

Day 185 and it's a super important day, y'all! It's @lunarlegend's birthday!!! Happy birthday, Luna, I drew you a Stella, hope you like it!!! :D

14 notes - Posted July 4, 2022

Jim "Treasure Planet" Hawkins is trans and you can't change my mind. My evidence? His theme song. The whole damn thing. But most specifically the lines "I want to tell you who I am. Can you help me be a man? They can't break me, as long as I know who I am" and "they can't tell me who to be, 'cause I'm not what they see."

18 notes - Posted March 29, 2022

Hey y'all, can you do me a favor and check out my bestie's Etsy shop? She just got laid off from her job and she could use the financial help, especially with holidays coming up.

She's got a lot of cute designs, like this shirt here and this cool mug that I'm gonna get for myself when I get paid and a purple pillow and y'all know how I feel about purple (it's the best color, you should get the pillow). There's more, even a paraffin wax candle if you want one of those! She's got a couple Halloween designs for you Halloween lovers out there, too!

See the full post

25 notes - Posted November 17, 2022

I keep thinking of how cruel of an insult "also-ran" is to Lea. To anyone else it's meaningless drivel—hell, I kind of lol wtf'd at it at first—but to Lea? Axel? Who's whole thing is "got it memorized" and wanting to live on in people's memories forever? To be called so worthless and forgettable that the only thing you can say about him is "yeah he was there, too, I guess"? Fuck, that must have hit like a blow to the gut.

And it was a deliberate choice on Xemnas's part, because he knows Axel's whole thing. He knows Axel's primary motivation is to matter and be remembered. But who remembers the also-rans?

It erases everything Lea has accomplished and relegates him to a true nobody—not a Nobody, but a nobody, nobody special, nobody worth mentioning, nobody worth caring about—all in two syllables specifically chosen to punch him in the gut.

On the surface, it seems like a weird translation choice. Something anachronistic, or maybe even a mistranslation, but I don't think it is. I think the translators picked the exact right insult—one that would be a hard miss to anyone else, but undermines everything that Lea is. And the more I think about it, the more it makes me hate Xemnas for that deliberate cruelty (and applaud the translation team for selling it).

Idk man I'm just having weird Lea/Axel feels today

31 notes - Posted May 2, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I just realized something, and I kind of feel dumb for only now realizing it, but if you only play the numbered Kingdom Hearts games and Dream Drop Distance, you're experiencing the story how Sora experiences it. You know just as much about what's going on as he does.

The side games are only necessary if you want to fully understand the whole entire story, but if you only care about Sora and what Sora's doing and how the story affects Sora? No need to play Roxas or Xion's part of the story, or Terra, Ven, or Aqua's part of the story, or the Age of Fairy Tales, or even Data-Sora and pre-CoM memory-wipe Sora's stories. Sure, Coded and CoM and Days help, but Sora doesn't know what happened in them. He wasn't there. He didn't directly experience Coded and Days, and he's forgotten CoM (though the memory links reside in his heart). But the side games—again, except Dream Drop—were either about other characters, or were written so you don't have to play them to understand everything Sora does. Maybe there was a scene or two (baby Sora and Riku meeting Aqua) that is relevant, but he was also, what, four? Who remembers random strangers saying weird things to you when you're four? It happens all the time, adults are nuts and you don't have a whole lot of life experience so everything is weird to you anyway.

Or maybe I've been cooking on an empty stomach for an hour and it's starting to get to me. Idk. I expect I'll feel the same after I eat, though.

92 notes - Posted April 13, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Bobbi's being weird again

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hufflepuff-huff-and-puff · 2 years

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I know all of my friend's birthdays by heart. It's something I pride myself on. Being able to rattle off a list of dates at the drop of the hat. I even remember of the birthdays of people that I don't talk to anymore. My ex-best friend of 9 years, February 7th. My old friend who moved to Ohio, April 16th. One of my coworkers who I barely like but whose birthday I know nonetheless, January 23rd. I also try to be the first one to wish all of these people Happy Birthday on the appropriate day. And usually, I am. I'll stay up until midnight just to send them that message at 12:01 AM.

No matter how much I don't want to think about it, there comes a point when I won't send these people Happy Birthday messages anymore and I might not even remember them on their birthday, I might look at the calendar and see that it says Monday, January 8th and think nothing of it. And as much as I don't want to admit it, I know that some of the people that I know right now won't be getting a birthday message from me the next year or the year after that. It makes me wonder what the cut off point is. At what point do I look at the calendar and I remember that today is June 23rd, what would be someone's 19th birthday, and I decide not to send the text? Would it be 2 years of no contact? Would it be would it be 3 years? 5? 10? I don't know and they don't either. But it does beg the question. At what point will they stop sending me those messages on July 13th at 12:01 AM? At what point will they reach their cut off point and decide that we're simply not close enough to send birthday messages anymore. Is it mutual? Or is it gradual? Or does it just happen suddenly? Like one day, January 20th, I get into a fight with someone, and I never talk to them again and on January 21st I delete their number. How does it happen? Why? There are many people who I don't send birthday messages to anymore, and yet, I don't even know the answer that question myself.

People often say how worried they are that a loved one's gonna die soon. But I don't think many people really consider that loss has more than one form.

0 notes

bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

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Soulmate AU Part 4 (final part):

Uther continues to be very OOC and Merlin is presented to the Kingdom; luckily enough, everyone already loves him. The Future starts to come together...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The summer passed in much the same way the previous year had; awkwardly polite conversation between Merlin and Uther, Leon panicking at everything, Gwen being exasperated, Morgana and Merlin pissing about, and Arthur watching it all with exponentially growing fondness.

Eventually, it was Yuletide again. Yuletide meant Arthur’s 18th birthday. Arthur’s 18th birthday meant revealing Merlin to the Kingdom; announcing him as The Crown Prince’s Soulmate.

There was an odd mix of feelings surrounding the upcoming event. Both Arthur and Merlin were ecstatic at the idea of not having to hide and sneak around anymore, but Merlin was a foreign peasant boy. The common people would love him, Nobles and Foreign dignitaries? Not so much. Granted, Arthur had a powerfully intimidating presence, when he chose to display it, Morgana could glare anyone into submission, and even Leon was known to be passive aggressively threatening when it concerned Merlin’s safety and respect, but not all could be daunted into compliance. Merlin would surely face discrimination.

That, and the growing spotlight meant that it would become much harder to keep his magic a secret. With Uther’s insistence that Merlin be... part of the family, they’d already had a few close calls.

Thankfully, not much else had changed, or it had changed for the better. Arthur and Merlin still scared everyone else shitless when they popped up to each other, but Morgana’s visions seemed a lot less terrifying now. Leon still had heart palpitations when Merlin and The King were in the same room, but Gwen, Gaius, and Hunith relaxed more; the Physician especially could see the pride glowing in Uther’s eyes, and the awkward fondness he held for Merlin (even if that wouldn't protect him if Uther discovered his magic).

Nevertheless, no ones’ fears or aspirations stopped the passage of time (though Merlin, in his increasing power, had put it on his “List of Things to Try Before I Die”), and Arthur’s crowning ceremony crept closer, day by day.

Hunith, Merlin, Leon, Gwen, and Gaius were gifted front row seats to the event, and as annoyed as Uther was at having the front row taking by commoners, a servant, and a young knight, he didn’t dare argue; he’d learnt that it was pointless now. Morgana was stood behind Uther’s throne at her own seat, giving Arthur a rare smile, not a hint of teasing in her expression, and Arthur returned it easily, comforted by the dream she told him she had the previous night (of adoring crowds and a grinning Merlin) despite his nerves.

The ceremony of course went of without a hitch, a rare smile on Uther’s face, and tears on all the faces of Arthur’s front row.

After an uproarious round of applause and chants of “Long Live The King, Long Live The Prince!”, the room cleared, leaving only Uther, Arthur, Morgana, Merlin, and a few faceless guards.

(Gaius, Hunith, Gwen, and Leon rushed off, wanting to be at the front of the crowds in the courtyard when Arthur and Merlin were presented to the Kingdom.)

Merlin didn’t hesitate in rushing up the steps to Arthur, wrapping his soulmate in a tight hug and whispering his pride into his blushing ear. For once, Morgana didn’t roll her eyes at the display of affection; Arthur may have occasional spurts of arrogance, and the two of them still acted like immature children occasionally, but she loved them both dearly. Uther did roll his eyes, though he could not hide his fondness from Morgana, who raised (yet another) teasing eyebrow at him. He glared at her half-heartedly before clearing his throat, and the boys jumped apart with a start.

He wordlessly nodded towards the door of the Throne Room, and walked out regally, his steps fast and heavy and his cloak billowing behind him. Merlin and Arthur followed quickly, hand in hand, and Morgana walked closely behind them, the guards bringing up the rear. The group finally made it to the large double doors that opened out onto the balcony above the courtyard, though it was two corridors previously that they began to hear the cheering and festivities below.

Arthur could feel Merlin’s hand shaking in his own, and squeezes it comfortingly, giving him a reassuringly soft smile as he murmurs, so Uther can’t hear them:

“Don’t worry, it’ll only be a few minutes, then we’ll come back in. You’ll be introduced to nobles and such during the feast,-”

When Merlin begins to look even more distressed, Arthur rolls his eyes good-naturedly and continues before his Warlock can interrupt him:

“-yes, I know, we’ll have to mingle, but this evening, it’s just us and the others. We’ll take some food and wine back to yours, and we can have some fun and all fall asleep in front of the fire together. Alright?”

Merlin takes a deep breath and nods, but before he can say anything, Uther stops his conversation with one of the guards and abruptly turns around, his face tersely concerned.

He takes one look at the boys before tutting and stepping towards them. Arthur freezes in shock as Uther begins to run a gloved hand through his hair, neatening it out and flattening it properly under the newly placed crown before stepping back again with a satisfied nod of the head. Arthur’s wide eyes stare straight ahead, and Morgana (having snuck in front of them to watch the whole ordeal) has to stop herself from snorting at his face. If she thought that was funny... well.

Next, Uther’s eyes move to Merlin, where he gives an even more disapproving tut and steps forward once more. He removes one of his gloves quickly, wetting his thumb with his tongue before wiping it just a little too harshly along Merlin’s nose, muttering-

“How the hell are you always so Godamn grubby?”

-to himself. Morgana doesn’t manage to hold in her giggles at that, clamping a hand over her mouth as she dedicates this whole scene to memory forever. Arthur is staring at his father with not even an attempt to hide his bafflement, but at this point, Uther is too busy brushing invisible lint off of Merlin’s shoulders to notice the incredulous stares from the three teenagers (and all the guards).

He finally steps back, huffing out a sigh, and muttering-

“That will have to do, I suppose.”

-before turning back to the doors and gesturing to the guards. Morgana, and Arthur have only a moment to regain their composure before they are ushered out on the balcony; Merlin staying back as he had been informed to do that morning, though he can hear the cheers get impossibly louder as the three royals greet their people.

Arthur glances back, just quickly, giving him one last smile before facing his people and standing in support of his father’s kingly speech:

“My people! Today, on this year’s Winter Solstice, my son has come of age!-”

The crowds had quietened significantly when Uther began, but another cheer went up at his words, and he paused, holding a silencing hand up:

“-I now present him to you, as Crown Prince Arthur Pendragon, heir to the throne of Camelot, my successor!”

His hand moves to gesture at Arthur, and the Prince steps forward as The King steps back, a wide smile on the blonde's face as his people cheer for him. He waves back, eyes searching the crowd for Hunith, Gaius, Gwen, and Leon; they meet gazes just as Uther steps forward once more, holding his hand up again:

“There is other news! It is...-”

He looks to Arthur, settling a hand on his shoulder and giving him a small smile. His voice quietens a little, but it can still be heard by the crowd:

“-it is with great pride, that I announce-”

The moment ended as quickly as it had started as Uther turns back to the crowds below, raising his voice again:

“-that my son has found his soulmate!!-”

Arthur had been expecting loud cheers, but their audience grows quiet and still at the announcement, as if frozen in suspense. As he peers over the stone barrier, he can see almost everyone in the crowd pairing off slightly, pulling their soulmates closer as they wait with baited breath to see their Prince’s partner.

Inside, Merlin takes a deep breath, but relaxes slightly when he sees Arthur unclench his own nervous fist, holding it behind him in preparation, invitation, for Merlin to take it in just a few moments:

“-I present to you, a close family friend of the royals,-”

(Morgana scoffs and rolls her eyes, but thankfully no one is paying her any attention.)

“-a skilled physician in training, and a trusted citizen of this Great Kingdom,-”

He gestures towards the door behind him, and Merlin takes his first shaky step forward, coming into line with Arthur as Uther finishes:

“Merlin, of Ealdor!”

Arthur and Merlin walk to the front of the balcony, hand in hand, as the loudest cheers Merlin has ever heard explode from the crowd. Despite the thunderous noise, Merlin can still pick out the cheers of his mother, uncle, friend, and older brother, and the leisurely applause from Morgana behind him, and he smiles in spite of his nerves. Arthur squeezes his hand once more, and they raise their joined fists to the crowds as they grin, struggling to hold in their laughter at the sheer amount of joy on the faces of everyone (bar Uther, of course, he just looked marginally happy) present.

Merlin has become even more recognised around the kingdom; normally seen trailing Gaius (who is also well-known, and well-loved) or, as inappropriate as it might be (at least according to Uther’s council), hanging around with Morgana and Gwen during the day. The castle’s servants and the majority of the knights had guessed that Merlin was the soulmate of either Prince Arthur or the Lady Morgana, what with how often he was with them and the way King Uther was apparently ok with that, and gossip spread like wildfire. But the loud cheers just drive home how well-loved Merlin is, and he tears up in response.

Merlin and Arthur finally step away from the edge of the balcony, and Uther continues his address of the people, though it passes by in a bit of a blur for Merlin, and he tunes out fairly quickly. He’s vaguely aware of Arthur running a soft thumb over his knuckles, and Morgana stepping towards him to clutch the edge of his tunic (loud crowds had never been her thing), but the speech and the cheering are drowned out by his racing thoughts.

Uther’s speech finally came to an end and the crowd dissipated. The King rushed off immediately, after sending what could almost be described as a respectfully fond nod in Merlin’s direction, but Morgana, Arthur, and Merlin luckily had nothing pressing to attend to before the feast, and had around an hour of time to waste (read: relax).

Despite Leon escorting the three of them to Merlin and Hunith’s home dressed in full armour, sword strapped to his hip, the journey took twice as long as it normally did, with various nobles and citizens alike wanting to stop them in the street and congratulate them. Arthur and Merlin were endlessly polite and extremely grateful for the support of their (now shared) people, but Leon’s forceful insistence that they “have somewhere important to be, My Lords, My Lady” went quietly thanked.

Hunith, Gaius, and Gwen met them at the house, and a round of tight hugs was shared; all staring fondly when Hunith wouldn’t let Merlin go for love nor money, whispering tearful exclamations of pride in his ear.

The hour felt like it passed in mere minutes, but it was enough time at least for Merlin to relax a little. Morgana and Gwen helped Hunith get ready, and Merlin definitely did NOT tear up when she came out of her room dressed like royalty, a string of Morgana’s pearls around her neck. Arthur and Morgana had deliberately stored a spare set of clothes here so they didn’t have to go back to the castle to change, and the Prince just about managed to force Merlin into a new jacket and cloak (”Why?!” “Because you have to, it’s protocol, you have to be dressed differently.” “That’s fucking stu-” “Merlin, I love you, but shut up and get changed.” “...Prat.” ) .

The seating arrangements weren’t too terrible. As per normal, Uther sat at the head of the table, with Arthur around the corner on the King’s right and Morgana to his left. Merlin sat in between Arthur and his mother; Leon was, unfortunately, on guard duty, though thankfully he was being assigned to Prince Duty (training, hunts, patrols, bodyguard, etc) more and more, meaning he was stood at the wall behind the two boys.

Thankfully, the only stranger anywhere near Merlin was a respected Camelot noble seated opposite him, and he seemed far more interested in boasting about his son to the King in the hopes of winning him a knighthood than he was in Merlin, and payed barely any attention to him other than the occasional distasteful glare (they did not go unnoticed by Arthur, and simply guaranteed that his prick of a son wasn’t going to end up anywhere near a sword).

So all in all, the feast wasn’t too bad. Merlin’s stomach was turning a little, but Arthur’s hand on his thigh under the table and his mother’s shoulder occasionally brushing against his own calmed him right down, though he still kept well away from any alcohol or too-rich foods, worried about making a fool of himself or turning his stomach even more.

The Gang also had Gwen serving them. Morgana had given up on her pleas to have her join them at the table fairly quickly; she could argue with Uther endlessly on many things, but she knew she was never going to win this one. At Guinevere’s insistence that today wasn’t about her, and Morgana shouldn’t ruin Uther’s tenuous good mood on Arthur’s birthday AND coronation AND soulmate-reveal-day, she gave in. But Merlin appreciated the feeling of friendly eyes, both Leon’s and Gwen’s, on his back for the course of the feast.

Just like during the celebrations of Arthur’s knighting ceremony, the tables were cleared from the room to make way for music and dancing, though this time Arthur and Merlin didn’t have to hide their partnership.

Merlin’s stomach turned more at the mingling he was forced to do, answering awkward questions about the purity of his blood and where he came from and his education and his understanding of social etiquette, almost all of which were phrased in condescending and/or downright spiteful ways. But the way Arthur’s arm, looped through his, tensed, and the scowl the Prince sported when Merlin couldn’t bring himself to, partnered with Leon’s comforting shadow (and even Uther’s, when the question’s strayed into cruelty) made him feel at least justified in his discomfort.

Morgana, at the quiet request of Merlin, spent the entire night by Hunith’s side, shielding her from the malicious glaring of nobles who felt cheated by her accidental winning of a position in the royal family. She was granted at least a little respect due to her being a relation of Gaius, who was highly respected and close to the King, but that was about as far as her favour went, and she was eternally grateful for Morgana’s steadfast presence and silent-but-deadly brand of defence.

The night passed slowly, but not so unpleasantly that Merlin was too desperate for it to end, though that changed rather jarringly when he found himself without Arthur for the first time. The Prince and Merlin had been stood next to each other, though involved in different conversations; thankfully for Merlin, he had been having a rather lovely chat about country-life with the wife of a knight. It was when she was pulled away by her husband to converse with another that Merlin realised that Arthur had also been pulled away by whoever it was he had been talking to.

Merlin tensed when he couldn’t immediately spot his soulmate through the crowd, but took a calming breath when he did spot Leon stood dutifully against the opposite wall, Guinevere next to him. That was fine, it wasn’t Arthur, but it was better than nothing, and he allowed his anxiety to swirl in his lungs for only a moment before he began his soft-stepped journey across the hall.

He caught Leon’s eye, thankfully, and the knight frowned slightly at the empty space next to him before sending a reassuring smile his way, nodding in encouragement and understanding.

Alas, he only made it halfway when he was stopped by a rather harsh hand on his shoulder.

He turns around, barely swallowing a gasp and a flinch, only to come face to face with the noble he had been sat opposite during the feast. The hand was uncomfortably tight on his shoulder, and Merlin wanted more than anything to push it away, but instead he forced a smile on his face and bowed his head respectfully, hoping beyond hope that Arthur would make a reappearance or Leon would see his discomfort and be able to come up with an excuse to abandon his post:

“Lord Otto, a pleasure to see you again.”

The drunken Lord let out a huff of sarcastic laughter, pressing his thumb even more severely into Merlin’s collarbone:

“Hmm, a pleasure indeed. Tell me boy, how is it that you, a peasant, think yourself worthy of such a magnificent soulmate?”

Merlin’s eyes widen in shock. No one had been so obviously disdainful, but the over-indulgence in alcohol, the Lord’s privileged seat at the table, and Merlin's lack of any sort of protector had evidently given him a boost in confidence. Merlin stuttered for a few moments, not quite sure what to say, before quietly coming out with:

“Well... I... don’t really know, I-”

He’s interrupted by a far softer hand on his other shoulder, but is even more shocked when, instead of Leon or Arthur, he found The King stood by his side, flicking an incredibly scornful gaze between Lord Otto’s hand and face. It does nothing to dissuade the Lord, and Merlin can’t disguise his wince this time when the hand once again tightens it’s grip.

Merlin had hoped he’d been subtle, but the clenching of Uther’s jaw tells him he had not been; before he can worry about what social rule he had broken and how Uther was going to punish him for it, The King finally settled his glare on Otto’s face:

“I must insist that you remove your hand from my boy’s person, and refrain from making such improper inquiries.”

His cold tone almost sends a shiver down Merlin’s spine, but the confusion of having Uther being in defence of him (a Warlock) stops the reaction before it even starts. The Lord glances up at the crown sitting strongly on Uther’s head, seemingly reminding himself of his company, before dropping his hand from Merlin’s shoulder as if he’d been burned.

He bows his head shallowly, making himself look as subservient as his pride could manage, and Uther gives him a barely restrained look of disgust when he looks up again, interrupting any quivering apologies he might have made:

“It’s getting rather late, and you’ve indulged enough for one night, do you not think? I suggest you end your evening here, Lord Otto.”

All three knew that it was not a suggestion, and Otto bows once more before muttering a humiliated, red-faced “Right you are, Your Majesty” and waddling out of the hall, towards the guest chambers.

Merlin let out a breath, his face just a little flushed as Uther spares him a quick, concerned glance before pushing him gently towards an on-going conversation between Arthur and a group of knights on the other side of the band. Merlin lets out a relieved breath when he sees his partner, but quickly frowns in concern when he then sees the tense line of Arthur’s shoulders and the way his eyes were darting around the room. He’s obviously paying only the shallowest of attention to the conversation at hand; but then they meet gazes, and the tension drains out of him as he sends a relieved smile Merlin’s way.

Arthur politely excuses himself from the conversation, using the blinding smile that only made an appearance when he was manipulating courtiers and nobles, before making his way through the crowd towards Merlin, evidently trying to disguise his desperation. Merlin was absent-mindedly aware of Uther keeping pace with him, the supportive hand on his shoulder-blade not leaving even when Merlin sped up slightly.

(If Merlin had been thinking about anything other than just being at Arthur’s side again, he would’ve found the odd mix of disgust and gratitude for Uther’s presence very confusing.)

They finally reach each other and Arthur grabs Merlin’s hand gently, pulling him to his side and landing a soft kiss to his cheek. Uther finally removes his hand from Merlin’s back, and it’s the absence of touch that reminds Merlin of The King’s presence. He turns quickly, hand safely in Arthur’s grip, to give Uther a flushed, timid smile:

“I... uh... thank you, My Lord.”

Uther gives him a tight smile, though you’d have to be blind to miss the slight fondness in his expression as he shakes his head:

“Hmm, I’ve been looking for an excuse to get Otto out of here for at least an hour, the man is intolerable, his incessant rambling about his unremarkable son even more so.”

Merlin nodded awkwardly and tightened his hold on Arthur’s hand, but before either boy can say anything, Uther lets out a deep breath, relaxing his shoulders and settling hesitant hands on one of their shoulders each:

“I... am proud of you both, and I wish you all the happiness in the world. One day, this Kingdom shall be yours, and it will be golden under your rule.”

Merlin almost manages to forget the whole... unforgivable genocide thing, and gives The King a weak, though grateful smile, running his thumb over Arthur’s knuckles when he feels the blonde shake slightly. Arthur tears up at Uther’s words, but thankfully manages to keep his voice steady as he quietly replies:

“Thank you, father, we will do everything in our power to live up to your legacy.”

(An utter lie, considering they plan on undoing pretty much everything he’s known for the moment they come into power, but Uther doesn’t need to know that, and the sentiment remains.)

Uther gives Arthur one last gentle smile, before lowering his hands and straightening his posture, going from awkwardly doting father to detached mighty King within a second. He nods at each of them before turning and walking regally away, his cloak billowing behind him and his golden crown shining atop his head.

Arthur tilts his head in question and tugs Merlin’s hand slightly when he sees the small frown on the younger’s face:

“Merls? What did Otto do? He didn't hurt you, did he?!”

Merlin looked up at him in shock before blinking away the surprise and chuckling:

“Ah, no, nothing like that, just asked how a peasant ended up with such a magnificent soulmate.-”

Arthur looked like he wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or offended on Merlin’s behalf, so he settled for an odd mix of the two:

“-That didn’t bother me though, it was... Uther called me his boy.”

Arthur dropped his chin slightly in shock:

“He what?”

Merlin shrugged:

“He said “I must insist that you remove your hand from my boy”. It was very... disconcerting, and oddly endearing considering what he’d do if he knew what I was.”

He whispered the last part quietly, and Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise before chuckling quietly:

“Wow, never thought I’d see the day. My father being protective of a commoner and telling me how proud he is all in one evening, perhaps the world is ending.”

Merlin snorts, rolling his eyes and softly responding:

“Hmm. He may be a bit of a prat, but he does love you, and he has his moments.”

Arthur narrows his eyes at Merlin good-naturedly, a smirk dangerously close to breaking out on his face:

“You know Merlin, you may be right, but you’re still the only person I allow to say it aloud without sanction.”

Merlin just smirks and raises an eyebrow; Arthur laughs, and the world feels right.

It was late by the time Arthur and Merlin finally decided to call it quits. Morgana, Gaius, and Hunith had left around an hour ago, Gwen following them the moment her shift ended. Technically, someone had come to take over from Leon about halfway through the night, but he stuck around, patrolling the shadows of the room with one eye on Merlin always.

(The boys had insisted that he should go home and relax, but were quietly grateful when he stayed.)

They had been wanting to leave for hours, and normally they could easily get away with such an absence, but this particular celebration was in their honour, it wouldn't do to leave too early, so they finally made their way out of the hall when the crowds had halved and it was approaching midnight.

Uther gave them one last pat on the back when they said goodbye, and the tension practically melted off them when they stepped foot outside, despite the freezing temperatures of winter in the dead of night.

Leon stepped out just a moment after them, and the three of them make quick work of the journey to the house, not wanting to dally in the frigid air and just a little desperate to find themselves in the comforting presence on the family they had built.

They arrive just in time to find Hunith pouring out mugs of hot chocolate (a luxury that Merlin and Hunith never had in Ealdor), and Gwen adding another log to the fire. The next round of hugs was quicker than the last; everyone was tired and eager to settle down, to push the insensitive questions to the back of their minds and revel in the positive feeling of things moving forward.

Arthur had removed his cloak immediately upon entry, folding it precisely and leaving it on the table in the hall, his golden circlet following shortly after, cushioned by the soft fabric, but Merlin excused himself to their bedroom, changing into comfier clothes and washing his face. He had been looking forward to leaving all night, but now that he was home, he found all he wanted to do was collapse in bed and sleep, Arthur securely in his arms.

A knock at the door broke him out of his slow moving thoughts, and he frowned slightly, Arthur wouldn’t knock:

“Come in.”

It was Leon that opened the door, having rid himself of his sword and most of his armour (a pain in the arse, considering he’ll have to wake up early to put it all on again, but oh well), and he stepped into the room, quietly shutting the door again behind him. Merlin sent him a tired smile, but Leon saw through it and raised an eyebrow:

“You alright, Birdy? Anyone in particular you’d like me to embarrass during training or council meetings?”

Merlin laughed and shook his head:

“No, that definitely won’t endear me to people. Honestly, it was a lot better than I was expecting, and having Arthur scowling at people and Uther defending me was rather entertaining in the end.”

Leon snorted, muttering a quietly amused “yeah, I bet” before stepping forward and enveloping Merlin in a tight hug, one hand on his back, one in his hair, holding him close. Merlin melted into the embrace, clutching the back of Leon’s tunic tightly as the older man swayed on his feet slightly, murmuring:

“I’m proud of you, little brother. You handled everything just fine, the kingdom loves you; you’re doing great.”

Merlin lets out a deep breath and steps back, though was grateful to feel Leon’s hands still on his shoulders as he replies:

“Thank you. Honestly, I’m just exhausted, I don’t know how I’m going to deal with this for the rest of my life, and I... I don’t want to disappoint Arthur.”

Leon rolled his eyes good-naturedly and ruffled Merlin’s hair:

“You could never. He loves you more than anything in this world, Birdy, you’re made for each other, after all. He would abandon all of this in a heartbeat if he thought it would make you happy.”

Merlin frowns slightly, clenching his jaw:

“Yeah, I know, that’s what worries me. We’re meant to... bring about a golden age or whatever, and we can’t do that if we leave, but I’m not sure I’m going to be any good at the... politics, or the court manipulation or anything that comes with... with running a Kingdom. I know it’s a long way off but...-”

Leon nods in understanding and squeezes Merlin’s shoulder softly:

“You’ve got plenty of time to learn. And hey, if you want to stay away from the politics? Fine, Arthur and Morgana have plenty of expertise in that area. You’re a physician, Merls, not a courtier, and the kingdom already loves you, not because you’re a good politician or anything like that, but because you’re a good person, and you’re worth loving. Just keep being yourself and you’ll be absolutely fine. And besides, you’ll always have us lot to fall back on when you’re unsure; you’ll never be alone, little brother, I’ll make sure of it.”

Merlin nods and sniffles slightly at Leon’s words, giving him another tight hug. They step back into the hall, and Leon gives Merlin’s hand a gentle squeeze:

“Ready? I can tell them you headed to bed, if you just want some sleep?”

Merlin smiles and shakes his head, pulling Leon to the living room, where everyone is undoubtedly crowded around the fire surrounded by blankets and pillows.

From that day forth, Merlin’s life becomes a lot more... official.

He was officially given sword-fighting lessons by a few of the older knights, though thanks to the lessons Leon, Arthur, and Morgana had given him already, he held his own pretty well, and they were more than impressed with the skill level of someone they had assumed was a complete beginner.

He was officially invited to the occasional council meeting (at least the boring, everyday ones). He was always a silent spectator, his participation discouraged, though his presence expected; Arthur always made a point to ask his opinions afterwards though.

His new duties and lessons, on top of his pre-existing duties as the Physician’s Apprentice, AND having to keep his magic hidden and his reputation intact, was all somewhat overwhelming for Merlin, but the steadfast support of Arthur and Morgana when it concerns politics, and Gaius talking Uther down when The King wants Merlin to be more involved in court life, definitely help him in everyday life. Gwen’s hugs and Leon’s hair ruffling are certainly God-sends as well.

The oddest thing was the way people addressed Merlin now. He wasn’t even of age yet, but people were calling him Lord, and servants bowed at him in the corridor. There wasn’t much he could do about the nobles without making some incredible social faux pas, but he always flushed at the servants and insisted they stop bowing and just call him Merlin, at least when no one else is around.

Thankfully, both visitors to the Kingdom and local nobles tone down the snootiness, especially when Uther publicly shows Merlin respect and rumours (correct rumours) spread of Arthur and Morgana’s protectiveness.

Merlin’s birthday was celebrated minimally, though there was, once again, a mix of feelings upon the realisation that he was now only one year away from being of age, and things would surely get even more intense when that happened. But they all tried to push it from their minds, at least for the time being.

As winter broke and the sun came up on what was undoubtedly a Spring day, Merlin felt the most refreshed he had in a long time, though his mood dropped instantly when he, Arthur, and Morgana were summoned to Uther’s private study... only to be given another mini, awkward “I’m proud of you” speech, and given a week off.

Of course, Arthur was still somewhat expected to keep up with his training at least a little, but really, there was nothing forcing him to.

They exited the study flushed with pride and excitement at the prospect of doing whatever the hell they wanted for a week, and met Gwen in the hall. She was worrying her lip between her teeth when they saw her, but she instantly relaxed and raised a questioning eyebrow when she saw the grins on their faces, and Morgana explained what had happened.

It was that evening, whilst relaxing in Arthur’s chambers, that Merlin heard the dreaded echo of “Emrys...” in his head.

He groaned, dropping his head in his hands, out of both frustration and the pain of another’s voice unexpectedly materializing on the inside of one’s skull.

It was just Arthur and Merlin in the room, and the Prince immediately moved from his own chair to kneel in front of his soulmate, running his hands up and down Merlin’s arms as he shakily asks:

“Merls? What’s wrong?”

Merlin just looks up at him blearily, one hand taking Arthur’s and the other rubbing his temple:

“Fucking... scaly arsehole.”

Arthur tenses and frowns as he answers:

“I thought he had given up months ago? Why is he calling you now?”

Merlin shrugs, slumping back in his seat:

“Who knows, he didn’t say, he just-”

“It’s important, bring your little... friends, if it makes you feel any better.”

“-never mind. He just said it’s important, and I can bring my “little friends” if I want.-”

He snorted in dry amusement before continuing:

“-as if I would’ve listened if he told me to go alone anyway. I really thought that me thinking “Fuck Off” as loud as I could helped him get the hint. Apparently not.”

Arthur rolled his eyes before looking to Merlin in concern:

“Well... do you want to go? Or do you want to just hope he goes away again?”

Merlin sighs, but before he can answer, the voice echoes once again:

“I will not go away this time, young Warlock. This is important, and I have very little else to entertain myself with, other than being an annoyance to you. Come.”

He huffs in frustration, standing abruptly and taking Arthur’s hand, dragging him to where their swords are kept as he grumbles:

“He’s not going away this time. Let’s fetch Leon and head down.”

Arthur dutifully follows, strapping his sword to his hip and locking the chamber doors behind them, not speaking until they were approaching Leon’s door:

“No Morgana or Gwen?”

Merlin halts, clenching his hands tightly as he thinks for a moment:

“Hmm. No, I don’t want to freak them out. We can tell them what happens later, but I don’t want Morgana to have to face him again.”

Arthur nods, and knocks quietly on Leon’s door. He opens quickly, and Arthur and Merlin are thankful that they didn’t wake him, though quickly notice his panic when he sees their grave faces and swords.

The explanation is quick, and within a few minutes the trio are making a stealthy journey down to the Dragon’s Lair. There are no dramatic appearances this time, the great lizard is already perched regally on the edge of the platform, waiting for them.

He tilts his head when he sees their tense forms at the gate:

“I’m grateful that you did not bring the Witch.”

Arthur and Leon look to Merlin in confusion as he bristles, tightening his grip on the sword at his hip as he speaks:

“Yeah, well, I didn’t fancy you trying to kill my best friend again. What do you want?”

The dragon does what the trio guesses is the closest to an eye roll and dramatic sigh that his great form can manage, before lowering his head and speaking in English:

“If you won’t listen to me, I suggest you use your new found, though temporary freedom to meet with the Druids. They have all relevant information on the prophecies, you can learn of your destinies from them. The closest camp is a day’s ride from the Eastern border of Camelot.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, but Arthur beats him to it:

“And how would you know that? How did you know we had time off?”

The dragon tilts his head and huffs out a dry laugh, the hot air making the trio sweat under their thick cloaks (it may have been Spring, but it was still cold) :

“I know a great many things, young King.”

Merlin and Arthur can practically feel the way Leon tenses, even from a few paces away. The man, ever the knight, was obviously incredibly uncomfortable with the idea that this dragon knew the goings on of the world, could listen in on conversations, all while being chained in the basement. Before either knight can say anything, Merlin tilts his head, a challenging look on his face as he regards the dragon:

“You... you keep saying destiny, but destiny is pre-written, the whole point is that it’s going to happen no matter what anyone involved does, no matter the interference. So why are you so desperate to have us know it, and work towards it? Us knowing or not knowing won’t alter things either way, unless it’s all a pile of shit and you’re manipulating us.”

Arthur smirks at Merlin’s quick mind and Leon looks impressed, the two of them turning their own challenging gazes on the rather thoughtful looking reptile. He mutters something along the lines of “you weren’t so bloody clever last time,” before lowering himself even closer to the ground, closer to Merlin:

“If I were manipulating you, then I wouldn’t send you to a third party known for being pacifist and unbiased, would I? Destiny isn’t completely certain, it is simply one of many likelihoods, the most... benefitting likelihood, is the destiny of you and your soulmate.”

Merlin scowls:

“Benefitting for who? Something tells me that one day you’re going to ask us for something, and we’ll be powerless to say no, thanks to all this... help you’re giving us, and it’ll be a mistake. So, benefitting who?”

The dragon shifts his jaw in such a way that resembles a smirk, speaking once again in the rasping language that Leon and Arthur don’t understand:

“Do you not want magic, yourself, your people, to be free, Emrys?”

He raises himself to his full height, stalking towards the ledge and stretching his leathery wings out. The trio manage to hold their ground in his dauntingly large presence, but their hands do tighten around their weapons:

“Go to the Druids, tell them Kilgharrah sent you.”

With that, he tips himself over the edge, falling for a second before snapping his wings out once again and shooting upwards towards the shadow-bathed ceiling, thick chain clanging loudly with the sudden movement.

Merlin huffs and turns to ascend the steps without another word, grumbling to himself about “stupid fucking dragons” and “my one week off and I have to deal with this shit” . Leon and Arthur look to each other with a shrug and a mix of genuine concern and mild amusement on their faces, before hurriedly following Merlin back through the castle.

Thankfully, it took almost no effort for Arthur and Morgana to get Uther to allow them to leave the Kingdom on their little vacation. It being under the guise of “visiting Ealdor” meant that it was perfectly within the realm of reasonable requests to have Leon tag along as “protection” as well. Guinevere was coming because they of course would need a servant whilst they were out and about (though Uther was definitely beginning to suspect that something more was at play between Morgana and the serving girl).

Unfortunately, Hunith was unable to get the week off work at such short notice (mother of the Prince’s soulmate or not), and there was no way they’d be able to justify asking The King for Gaius to tag along, so they didn’t even try. But they set out the next afternoon, having filled Gwen and Morgana in on Kilgharrah’s rather vague and annoying directions.

Neither of them were particularly happy that they had gone to see the Dragon without them or that they were just... doing what he said, but destiny or no, consulting the Druids on Morgana’s visions and Merlin’s magic was still a good idea, and they’d never get a better chance.

Just like Kilgharrah said, they found the Druid camp two days into their journey from the city, almost a day’s ride beyond Camelot’s border. They had to be careful, wear disguises, but they were travelling through virtually untouched wood so they didn’t run into anyone, not even a pesky group of bandits made an appearance.

When the first tents came into sight through the trees, the group stopped to take a breath and prepare themselves, giving each other one last round of dubious looks before beginning to walk again.

They barely make it to their third step when Merlin pauses and takes a stuttering breath, clenching his fingers around Arthur’s sleeve in a white-knuckled grip. The others crowd around him worriedly, but relax (only slightly) when he looks more confused than anything else. Before they can ask what’s wrong, he peers between them towards the tents:

“Uh... how are you- are you Druid? Is this one of you?”

Arthur’s eyes widen as he realises:

“Someone’s in your head again?”

Merlin nods distractedly but doesn’t move his gaze, speaking louder:

“Hello??”

Finally, a middle-aged man steps out from the camp; he wears floor length, dark green robes, and his silver hair almost falls to his shoulders. He gives the group a kind smile before finally focusing in on Arthur and Merlin, bowing his head slightly:

“My Lords. Our seers saw you coming some days ago, and we felt your presence the moment you entered our wood, Emrys.”

Merlin clenches his jaw slightly:

“Please don’t call me that, my name is Merlin... and... Kilgharrah sent us?”

He says it as if it’s a question and the Druid gives Merlin an assessing gaze, before nodding slightly. Before he can verbally respond, Leon steps subtly in front of the others. Morgana rolls her eyes at his protectiveness and Arthur huffs, but before they can challenge him, he asks:

“What do you mean, you felt his presence?”

He tilts his head again and smiles slightly, as though amused:

“Em- Merlin is rather powerful; we can sense him from miles away, his magic is incredibly... distinctive.”

Merlin frowns, holding Arthur’s hand protectively in his own as he side-steps Leon:

“What does that even mean? I’m not that powerful.”

The man shakes his head slightly and gestures behind him:

“Come. I imagine you have many questions about many things. The camp awaits your presence, My Lord.”

Merlin frowns at the title, but the Druid turns his back and begins walking back into the centre of the camp before he can challenge it. He gives a small shrug and a quiet “well, here we go” to the others before following his trail, Arthur’s hand still clutched tightly in his.

They all receive peculiar looks as they walk through the camp. Life seems to stop as everyone pauses what they’re doing to stare at the intruding teenagers (and Leon), but they keep their heads down, all letting out a relieved sigh when the man leads them to a tent, gesturing for them to sit around a table, and closing the fabric gently behind him.

He turns around with relaxed shoulders and an easy smile, not acknowledging that none of them are sat down and are instead gathered in a huddle by the table:

“My name is Iseldir. Druids don’t have strict hierarchies, but I’m considered the chieftain here, welcome.”

He looks at Merlin as he speaks, and the young Warlock nods slightly. He opens his mouth to speak, but shuts it again with furrowed brows; Iseldir raises an eyebrow and Merlin hums thoughtfully before trying again:

“I was going to introduce everyone, but something tells me that you already know who we are.”

Iseldir smiles again and nods, the expression on his face looking something similar to pride:

“Yes, I know who you all are. I see that you are learning to trust your instincts, My Lord.”

Merlin grimaces:

“It’s just Merlin, please. It’s bad enough that everyone at the castle calls me Lord now, I’m not even of age yet.”

The Chieftain’s smile widens in amusement as he nods, and Morgana is the next to speak up, her hand clutched tightly in Gwen’s as her voice shakes only slightly:

“We were sent here to learn about our... destinies?”

Iseldir nods, politely ignoring the way Merlin reaches behind him to grab Morgana’s wrist comfortingly, and how Leon and Arthur rest their hands near their swords:

“I have everything we need laid out here; it isn’t too complicated and we should get through all of it by this evening.”

The teenagers finally move to the seats, but make no effort to hide the way they shuffle the furniture to be sat closer together. Morgana and Merlin are sat in the middle, Arthur and Gwen flanking them protectively; Leon remains standing, a hand on each of his magical kid’s shoulders and a blank, though slightly challenging look on his face. Iseldir raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment, moving to sit on the opposite side of the table and shuffling a few papers around before looking up with a smile:

“Let us begin.”

The general mood of the room could be judged accurately by how tense Leon was at any one moment. Though he remained standing, he was relaxed and curious when Iseldir told them about the extent of Merlin’s powers (which Merlin looked incredibly dubious at), and he smiled proudly when they were told of Merlin and Arthur’s intertwined destinies (the nature of their soul-bond means he already knew they had some sort of great future, and this only proved it).

It was when Iseldir hesitated slightly as he gave Morgana a pitying look that Leon tensed up, and tightened his grip on her shoulder.

“You must all remember that destinies are... tricky. They are incredibly difficult to avoid, but it isn’t impossible; the future is not set in stone.-”

Morgana takes a deep breath and straightens her back, taking Merlin’s hand in her own and settling her face into a determined grimace:

“Just come out with it. Just tell me.”

Iseldir gives her a comforting smile as he nods, turning a sheet of incredibly ancient looking paper over and pushing it across the table towards them. On the scroll is a old, rough charcoal drawing of a woman with long, dark hair, her clothes somehow elegant and tatty at the same time. Her face is covered by a hood, but her arms are outstretched and violent looking flames extend from her hands, burning and destroying all the foliage drawn around the edge of the paper.

Morgana reaches a shaking hand out to touch the drawing but withdraws her hand before she makes contact, ignoring the tears gathering in her eyes as she looks up at Iseldir again:

“That’s me, isn’t it? Burning things?”

Iseldir nods slowly before speaking, his voice low and gentle, understanding:

“It is said that if you come into your full power, you will unite with The Once and Future King’s Bane. Your heart will freeze over, you will become consumed by hatred and fear and bitterness, and you will work tirelessly to bring about the downfall of Camelot, the downfall of Albion.-”

Arthur interrupts:

“Albion?”

Iseldir moves his gaze to the Prince, giving him a tight smile as he explains:

“The Kingdoms to be united under one name, Albion, with yourself as King.-”

He looks back to Morgana, his smiles turning just a little encouraging:

“-Like I said, the future is not set in stone. Arthur’s Bane came into existence several years ago, we’re keeping close watch on him; he has yet to show any... troubling, signs, nor have you.”

Merlin scowls slightly in though, before slowly saying:

“Arthur’s Bane is... a person?”

Iseldir raises an eyebrow and nods, letting out a breath of subtle relief when Merlin seems more genuinely worried than murderous.

Gwen is the next to speak up, her voice strong and her face determined:

“None of that is happening,-”

She reaches forward and aggressively turns the scroll over, squeezing Morgana’s hand as she continues:

“-not ever.”

Leon’s gasp has everyone’s eyes drawn to the overturned sheet, only to see a colourful image appear on the paper. The first figure to materialize is clearly Morgana, though in this drawing she is grinning, hood down, eyes golden and flowers in her hair. Next, Merlin and Gwen appear either side of her, Merlin’s eyes also glowing as he summons matching flowers in Gwen’s hair, Gwen who is pressing a kiss to Morgana’s cheek. Leon and Arthur appear next, in full armour with bright grins, a golden crown on Arthur’s head.

Iseldir chuckles, looking up at Merlin who is giving himself a satisfied nod as the golden glow fades from his eyes:

“Trusting your instincts indeed; you didn’t even need an incantation, very impressive.”

Merlin shrugs before turning to Morgana with a grin. She returns it with a shaky one of her own, once again feeling not-quite-so-scared thanks to the ever-comforting presence of her family.

They slept that night in a large tent that had been prepared for them, and were woken up early the next morning. They were given a proper tour of the camp and introduced to a few people.

Leon had questions about how the camp was run, in terms of enforcing rules and staying safe, so he was quickly introduced to a few of the elders. Whilst he had been reluctant to leave the others at first, Arthur’s teasing laughter and Morgana’s rolled eyes convinced him to spend the day away from them, learning about as much of Druid politics as he could.

Merlin and Morgana were quickly introduced to the strongest magic users, and whilst Merlin was taken aside to be given some lessons on healing using magic, Morgana was taught meditation techniques and breathing exercises by the camp’s most respected Seer.

Gwen sticks mostly with Merlin; whilst she had no magic to heal with, the herbal knowledge that was being shared was fascinating and she was eager to memorise as much of it as possible. She of course wandered over to check on Morgana occasionally, at first out of concern, but then out of pride, out of a desperation to never forget how relaxed and happy and at-home her soulmate looks.

Arthur spends the morning with Merlin, but quickly grows bored. Perhaps he should take more interest in healing considering how often he and the knights get injured, but he’s already got Merlin, Gaius, and now Gwen, so why waste the effort? Instead, he finds Morgana and the Seer. The sense of relief he feels to see his sister looking so at ease with such an easy smile gracing her face is almost overwhelming, but he doesn’t disturb them, sitting a little way away and silently watching them.

The Prince didn’t even realise he had fallen asleep until the tell-tale pop and the sudden shadow of someone stood above him jolts him from his nap. He opens his eyes blearily to see Merlin crouching next to him, an amused smile on his face and his hand out-stretched:

“Come on sleepy head, the others are waiting for us, it’s time to eat.”

Arthur takes a deep breath, allowing Merlin to pull him up before he stretches and rubs the sleep from his eyes. The sun was only an hour or so away from touching the horizon and he could see no one else in the little patch of woods Morgana had previously been sat in:

“Morgana?”

Merlin smiles softly, taking Arthur’s hand and leading him back towards the tents:

“Happy. She joined me a couple hours ago and we were practicing some simple spells, turns out she has more magic than just visions-”

At Arthur’s slightly affronted expression, Merlin chuckles and rolls his eyes:

“-You were exhausted, Arthur, don’t deny it. You got this holiday because of how hard you’ve been working, we didn’t want to wake you. We’ll show you a few tricks tomorrow alright?”

Arthur pouts and huffs slightly, fighting the smile trying to appear on his face as he nodded his agreement. Merlin just laughed at him again as they entered the meal tent, finding spaces with the other three.

The next morning was just as relaxed, though this time the five of them stayed together.

Leon, Arthur, and Gwen sat against a fallen log as they watched Merlin and Morgana show their magic off. A small audience of Druids had gathered as well, on account of Lord Emrys’ presence, and whilst Morgana tired quickly, not used to having such free access to the magic that had been inside her for years, Merlin could go for hours. He used few actual incantations, manipulating water and flowers and floating lights with just a little concentration and some imprecise waving of his hands.

Noon, unfortunately, came rather quickly, at which point Leon sighed and stood up, giving Merlin a sad smile before looking to Arthur:

“If we want to be home with a day to spare, we should start the journey soon.”

Arthur nodded in agreement and the rest of the group joins Leon in standing. The Druids disperse fairly quickly, but Iseldir stays with them, giving Merlin a pat on the back and a wide smile:

“It was a pleasure to have you here My Lor- Merlin.”

Merlin snorts in amusements but nods his appreciation, and the five of them wander over to their tent to gather their belongings whilst Iseldir collects the horses.

It’s only half a candle mark before they’re riding back out into the forest in the direction of Camelot. The teachers and elders, including Iseldir, wave them off with proud smiles, and whilst Merlin and Morgana are sad to leave this sanctuary behind, they were grateful for the freedom and safety and lessons they’d had, even if it was less than two days. Their utter faith that things would change when Arthur took the crown, that one day Camelot would feel just as safe, gave them something beautiful to look forward to as well.

Their journey home was just as uneventful as the journey out. When they finally pulled up into the courtyard with a day and a half of their free week left, Leon took everyone’s horses to the stable and informed a servant to tell the King of their arrival, whilst the others headed straight to Merlin and Hunith’s house. They had to wait for Hunith and Gaius to finish their actual jobs, but soon enough the whole group was crowded around the kitchen table.

Arthur and Gwen (who, though no one else would admit it, has the best memory of all of them) re-tell the prophecies and destinies.

Both Hunith and Gaius were furious once again at Morgana’s so-called destiny, but smiled proudly at her determined disposition, and the obviously magical drawing (the flowers seemed to move and the golden eyes definitely glowed off of the page) that Merlin pulled from his pocket. The others hadn’t even realised he’d kept it, but are grateful.

Next, Merlin and Morgana talk about their lessons. Gaius was intrigued by the healing knowledge Merlin and Gwen had gained, and after double checking that the door was locked and the curtains were drawn, they even showed off a few spells to their captive audience.

(There were times that Merlin showing off even the slightest bit of magic would give Hunith a heart attack and nightmares for days; she finds it doesn’t bother her so much anymore. She knows that Arthur, Morgana, Leon, and Gwen would never let anything happen to him, and the new stories of his apparent great power certainly helped ease her mind as well.)

Finally, Leon spoke about what he had learned from the elders; all bout how they keep camps running, their democracy, and how knowledge is preserved and passed on. It was a little boring, if any of them are being honest, but the bright grin on the knight’s face kept them from interrupting him.

Eventually, it came time for everyone to head to their respective beds and sleep. There was no denying that they’d had an amazing few days, but it was also a few days of constant activity and sleeping rough... they were all exhausted.

As Arthur and Merlin curled up under the covers, grateful for the slightly chilled night making cuddling easier, they let out simultaneous breaths of relief.

Arthur ran a hand through Merlin’s hair softly as he quietly spoke, aware of Hunith asleep in the next room:

“You think we’ll be alright?”

Merlin sighs and Arthur tries not to let the anxiety in his stomach swirl too violently at the lengthening silence. Finally, Merlin turns over to face his soulmate, shuffling even impossibly closer and giving Arthur a small smile. Arthur doesn’t comment on the nerves in the younger man’s eyes:

“There’s all this pressure on us to fulfil our destinies, to save the world, it’s a little... overwhelming. My whole childhood I tried to forget the fact that being Prince Arthur Pendragon’s magical soulmate would mean... everything, in one way or another, some day. And now that day is fast approaching, I can feel it, and I still have no clue what I’m doing. And that’s not even considering Morgana.-”

Arthur’s hold around Merlin tenses at the mention of his sister, and Merlin presses a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw before continuing:

“-I would give up all of it, everything, to save her. To see her happy. But... do I really have the right to make that decision? My people are counting on me, but you and Morgana and Leon and Gwen, you come first, and you always will.-”

Merlin rolls onto his back again, staring at the ceiling with furrowed brows as Arthur watches him mournfully:

“-I’ve spent so long being terrified of the fact that I know you would give up your crown if I just asked you to, and now I’m close to making the same decision myself; giving up everything for one person, to the detriment of the world.-”

He turns his head to face Arthur again, tears in his eyes:

“-I don’t know what to do, Arthur.”

The Prince clenches his jaw, having to push down the swell of anger at... everyone really. Kilgharrah, the Druids, the Gods, whosever idea this whole destiny shit was. Arthur often thought of himself as a fully matured adult whose place in the world was clear, but at times like these, he’s reminded of how young he is, and how Merlin is even younger.

He pulls the Warlock into a tight embrace, tucking his dark hair under his chin and running a soft hand over his back:

“I will stand by you, always, and we’ll figure it out, we always do. The future is fluid, Merls, we just have to keep an open mind and push through. We’ve all been through a little bit of hell, but that day? That you can feel approaching? That’s the day we change the world. I’ll force my father from the throne if that’s what it takes,-”

Arthur feels Merlin tense to argue, but rushes on before he can say anything:

“-not just for you, but because it will be the right thing to do, one day. This Kingdom, and then the world, will be golden, and the five of us, and Gaius and your mum, will be together every single step of the way. Ok? You don’t have to do anything, Merlin, not alone, not ever.”

Merlin relaxes again, and Arthur can feel his sigh of relief across his collarbones. The room goes silent for a while, and Arthur only just hears Merlin’s quiet words before he slips into a sleep filled with peaceful dreams full of meadows and flower crowns and golden eyes:

“Yeah... I think we’ll be alright.”

THE END!!

After thinking about it for a few days, and re-reading the series, I’ve decided that I actually like the ending here!

I hope y’all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, thanks anon for sending the idea to me all those months ago! :)

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shirophantomvox · 3 years

Text

Random date night with Illumi, Hisoka, and Chrollo

Hello, anon! Ask and you shall receive! This prompt is very interesting and I will try to keep it in character as much as possible. To sum this up, Hisoka would take you to an ice cream shop, a carnival, or apple orchard while Illumi would rather go to an art or historical museum. Chrollo would persuade you to attend a book reading/author signing or go hiking. Depending on who you are and what your ideal date is, I’m sure you’d find them all fun. Going to a carnival or apple orchard is my go-to since I’ve barely been because they’re all in the suburbs. These headcanons are explained much more than the others. That is why Chrollo and Illumi seem to be short, but they’re not. Also, I can’t wait for Halloween because these headcanons are going to be amazing. I am extremely sorry if there are grammar errors! Taking classes on Zoom is frustrating and now my brain has to relearn everything that I lost in 3 months! Before we get started, I have a few announcements.

This post is more laid back than my other headcanons because I tried to keep it as canon as possible.

I want to thank you all for 65 followers! It means a lot! I’m happy to see that a lot of you enjoy my writing and like it enough to follow me! I have a challenge for you! When I reach 100 followers, I will host some type of writing event here...but I need ideas. I’ve seen some pages do specials where you can send an ask and pretend like you're talking to a character and I respond with what they’d say. SEND ME IDEAS! I WILL CREDIT YOU!

I will be stepping back a little more than before. I’ll still be logged in and re-blogging but as far as writing posts like this...it may only be once or twice a week. You see, I’m in college and I’m struggling financially and I have to work on scholarships. If you all send me an ask, be patient.

Voltron posts will only be created based on asks. I will not be writing posts about VLD if no one requests them. I do not receive any feedback from it anymore and no one seems to like them.

Now, let’s get into the post.

Let's start with Illumi first.

Headcanon 1: Illumi has a secret admiration for different types of art but he specifically enjoys pop art and surrealism. He has commented on how surrealism makes his brain twist and his feelings swirl as he tries to figure out the piece and what inspires it.

He prefers not to participate in tours as he likes to digest the art at his own pace.

Headcanon 2: In his spare time, he paints on a canvas. His art style consists of both surrealism and abstract art. For a person with a dark personality, his compositions always contain bright colors and abstract techniques that leave you wondering about his TRUE personality. He is truly a good man with a bright personality but after being abused for so long, those behaviors/personalities have been shoved so far down his throat that they may not come back up.

He has a bad habit of asking you what you thought about every single piece of art you passed. The conversations were great but this is a date after all. The playful conversation slowly turns into a lecture about art. Although you loved your bf’s dictionary-like brain it also drained your energy.

One of his favorite artists is Vincent Van Gough. Although he favors surrealism, Van Gogh’s art style was mind-blowing to him. So amazed that he buys several Van Gogh t-shirts from the gift shop.

His favorite piece created by Van Gough is “Starry Night”.

He notices that you are becoming bored and decides that it is time for MORE excitement, one that you are certain to enjoy.

“Where are we going,” you ask, pretending to be interested.

“Down to the basement. We are going to have a bite to eat.”

Since Illumi rarely smiled, when he did smile it drove you wild. The anticipation of what his next move was going to be is what drove that wildness. Being a bounty hunter was thrilling already but dating a smart, badass assassin was totally out of your league but it worked out.

Headcanon 3: Illumi’s idea of being romantic is dramatically different from yours. He believes just spending time with you on the couch was enough. He is correct; but if you have the time and funds, your time together should be a little spontaneous. You insisted on dates outside of the house because his family will not stay out of your business.

“Illumi, I am too hungry for more trivia.”

He chuckles. “Don’t worry. So am I. That is why I’ve decided to take you to a wine and cheese party.”

Huh? Wine and Cheese at 3PM? That’s ok. When was there a time limit on when you can drink alcohol?

Illumi has indirectly attended parties as such when he was 15 years old. He never drank, but he watched as his mother’s friends (surprisingly) talked about business and their children. This time, you weren’t going to talk about business for once. Instead, you two were going to actually talk about what couples discuss.

Headcanon 4: When introduced to alcohol for the first time, Illumi immediately stated how he hated brown liquor. That includes Hennessy, Jack Daniels, etc. It makes him sick to his stomach. He prefers to drink Smirnoff mixed with fruity drinks like strawberry or pineapple.

He loves it when you make these drinks for him on a summer day.

Hence the title wine and cheese, you both go to a stand-up table, place your brochures down, and actually have a wonderful conversation not involving work or hunting.

Illumi smiled a few times, more than usual. Whenever he appears to be softer even around you, that is because he has mellowed out and doesn't have the overbearing weight of his family on his shoulders. You set him free.

Hisoka

According to a one-shot that another manga artist created, they expressed that Hisoka was found on the side of the road, was taken in by someone that worked at a local circus, and learned Nen in a matter of days. Hisoka’s clown look and having the skills of a magician proves that this has to be canon in some way.

Headcanon 1: Given this potential backstory, going to a carnival is his go-to every summer. He wants to take you to a circus but saves that for you as an engagement gift.

Everyone with a heart knows that whether or not you’re in a relationship or not the carnival is fun as hell! Expensive fried food, elephant ears, funnel cake, ICEE’s, rides, and stuffed animals are to die for!

Being at a carnival relaxes him so his bloodlust isn’t activated unless someone bumps into him and causes a scene.

Headcanon 2: PDA is something that Hisoka does well; he doesn’t overdo it but does it enough where people get the impression that you are a couple and aren’t “best friends”.

While completing a mission depending on how rough it may be, he insists that you tag along to see how he handles the situation. You’ve already seen his ruthlessness from Hunter’s exam but he insists.

His sense of pride gets the best of him sometimes. Sometimes his head is so big that it reminds you of a large birthday balloon.

Headcanon 3: ANYWAY, given his nature, he is very adventurous, dangerous, and courageous. If he wants to go on the Demon Drop, he’ll do it and you DO not have a choice in the matter. He’ll tease or guilt trip you into doing something that you would not like to do.

“Well, you wouldn’t want me to cling on to someone else, would you?”

“No. Of course not,” you reply.

“Let’s go then, scaredy-cat.”

As a hunter, you’ve seen worse. Why are you so afraid to go on a ride?

Headcanon 4: At apple orchards, cornfield mazes are one of his favorites. You cannot for the life of you figure out how to get out but he can. He grabs a scarecrow and scares you from behind. That annoys you but is nothing compared to later on that night.

Oh. My. God. It’s haunted house time!

“Hisoka, I’m not going in!”

“Why not? I’ll protect you.”

“Because they’re monsters and I already have to deal with one.”

It took him a second to catch on that you were talking about him.

“That’s going to bite you in the butt, kitten.”

Headcanon 5: Like Killua, Hisoka has a sweet tooth. Don’t allow his buff appearance to fool you!

He LOVES caramel apples, elephant ears, funnel cake, freshly squeezed lemonade, fudge, and cotton candy. How can this man manage to stay in shape? The world may never know.

Headcanon 6: He isn’t one to play by other people’s rules but he sets his own rules with your relationship that you both must obey. One of those rules says that neither of you can be on your phones while together.

Headcanon 7: Hisoka insists that you both wear either matching pants or matching shirts to avoid unnecessary flirtation.

He isn’t jealous but on “us time”, he doesn’t want to lose a single second.

Headcanon 8: Hisoka only jumps in when necessary. Given that you’ve passed the hunter’s exam and work as a bodyguard, he knows you can handle your business. If the person can’t take a hint, then he steps in. They almost back up immediately considering Hisoka is towering over them.

When the moon shines, you both go to the car and off to sleep in your comfy king-sized bed.

Chrollo

We all know that Chrollo loves to read! What does he specifically like to read? What Genre? Does he like to read alone or with other people?

Although Chrollo is a thief and must be hidden in the shadows, the authorities have called off the search for him for at least 3 years. Slowly but surely, he begins to find himself in the outside world again.

Chrollo once discussed a book with the Phantom Troupe when they were being transported to another place for a mission. He read “Tears of a Tiger” by Sharon M. Draper.

The reading sessions are opened with an affirmation and a reason to be thankful to be alive. He says he is thankful for the troupe, glances at you, and smiles. No one catches on to that sly face except for Phinks.

Headcanon 1: Chrollo is very silent and shy to an extent. He only associates with people he knows and trusts. You are the social butterfly at this moment.

Chrollo tags along behind you like a shy child, holding your hand while you stick out your free hand to greet everyone.

Today, the book club was going to read “Divergent”.

Headcanon 2: Although he loves to read, he hates it when others read out loud. Most people are drably read and it annoys him. After a while, he takes over. Chrollo was tense the first 30 minutes of the meeting because two cops were there but neither of them noticed it was him.

Headcanon 3: Chrollo often acts the part of the character that he is reading in the book. His tone, attitude, and emphasis on certain words keep the group engaged. He is complimented on his acting!

“Good Job, honey,” you whisper.

He responds by tightly squeezing your hand.

His tone was so impressive that the host insisted that he read for the entire night. He was ok with that because in between reads he was often distracted by a lovely pair of jeans and shoes you had on. You were into writing, so hearing others read and act out the characters helped.

Headcanon 4: In some settings, Chrollo is very braggadocious. He insisted that the group read one of your stories so you could be provided with feedback.

“We’d be delighted to view your story, y/n!”

“It will be fun!”

The book club wasn’t a stereotypical club that only consisted of soccer moms but instead consisted of men and women who were involved with a business, law enforcement, health, etc. This was an open space for everyone to relax and forget about their demanding jobs.

After the meeting, the group went to dinner at a nearby pizzeria. You all enjoyed large pizzas, beer, salads, and dessert. How could your stomach (or anyone’s stomach) hold that much?

Chrollo laughed so much that it made you question if he was your actual boyfriend or not. He even engaged in conversations with the two off-duty cops! For once, you helped Chrollo experience the greater things in life; true love, friendship, and happiness.

“Thank you,” he whispered and slyly placed a kiss on your hand. “For everything.”

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comehomeducklings · 3 years

Text

Past [Part 2] (Obsession)

A/N: Some chapters will be named with either “Past,” “Present,” or “Future,” then their numbered part coming right after it. This is to confuse you less when flashbacks or anything happens. As you have probably noticed, it says “Past” for Part 2. This is going back near when Tom and her just met. Thank you for reading! <3

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

1940 - 3rd year

“Potions is not that bad, I swear. You just have to be good at measuring.”

At the table, my friends and I are discussing our classes this year. Potions being one of my favorite topics. Devyn absolutely loathes that certain class. We have to drag her there to make sure she doesn’t skip. Poor girl tries her best to not mess up but the cauldron always ends up blowing up. I even watched her do every step once, never missing a beat. The potion still ended up failing, even though she did everything correctly. She gave up after a while, who wouldn’t. I help her do extra assignments for extra credit to keep her grade up. She also studies with me to make sure she can memorize everything and pass her tests. Amelia is pretty good at the class, she’s luckily paired with Devyn most of the time. Carrying the potion to success, with a little bit of my secret help. It’s not cheating, it’s using your resources.

I’m resources.

“Potions is not that bad,” Devyn mocks me. “If it weren’t for you two I would have gone insane in that stupid class.”

Amelia just laughs at her while eating her hash browns on the plate. She reaches her hand out to take some more eggs.

“You were able to do it before. Not the way you were supposed to, but it worked,” Amelia says.

“Exactly, just start doing it your way at this point. I don’t think Slughorn will care how it’s done, just how it comes out.”

Devyn nods her head and points at me with a fork. Her mouth full of food so she settles for that response. My plate doesn’t have much other than some bacon and fruit. I’m not usually a breakfast eater. I get my appetite at lunch and dinner time. It’s just too early for a bunch of food smells, the smells make me kind of nauseous. I’ll eat though, enough to hold me off till lunch.

The chatter in the lunchroom rises by the minute. Everyone refilling themselves before their busy day. All energy levels rising while everyone wakes up from their groggy morning mood. While my friends finish eating we continue to talk about our classes and share the schedules for this year. Most classes we had were the same except for our electives. I tried taking as many electives as possible. My family back home never really did magic. I actually came a year and a half late since my family wanted me to have a normal school experience. I learned to do everything without the use of magic, the only thing my mom taught me was the floo network, creatures, and plants. I would often accompany her to Diagon Alley when she shops. I got an Owl for my 10th birthday. A cat would have been amazing if I wasn’t allergic to it. My owl is a brown and white-furred barn owl. Don’t ask me why I named it Bartholomew. I was ten okay, give me a break. Speaking of the floo network, my mom had to chase me through it quite often because I kept teleporting everywhere. I once ran into the Ministry of Magic’s building and got lost. They had to take me home to my parents. Their faces told me everything I needed to know about the punishment waiting for me.

Halfway through the second year is when I came to Hogwarts, a second letter coming that year asking my parents to let me learn more there. So when they finally let me attend, everything was pretty new to me. My mother was the magic one in the family. Her grandmother, my great-grandmother, before her had the magic gene. Going to school was the same experience as going from a muggle-borns perspective. The difference is, I knew more about its existence. I would look at yearbooks my mom had from when she went here. She earned a lot of titles, all the achievements being recorded down. I always wondered why she never wanted me to come here. Did something happen to me, to her? I’m guessing she just wanted a normal life with dad. He has always supported her through everything. A love, a bond like that is hard to come by. He would also learn about magic right next to me. At least, the stuff my mom allowed to let us know.

That’s why I want to learn as much as I can, of what’s available. Why learn math in the muggle world when I could be learning divination. Spells of all types, potions for everything of inconvenience. My chores could be completed with just a flick of my wand. I’ve lately been learning wandless magic, on my own. Albus has helped by providing me with material to study that type of magic. The only thing I’ve managed so far is a spark coming from the tips of my fingertips. Sparking hope that I could actually, maybe, achieve that level. Now I won't get my hopes up, but that can lead me to a certain advantage in dueling. That being one of my weakest skills. Always panicking, saying any spells that pop up in my mind, and making random movements coming from my wand. Often confusing who I’m up against, although they recover from that confusion fairly quickly.

Riddle, met him once. One too many if you would ask me. I dissuade ever wanting to speak to him. Arrogance and pride flow through his tongue like second nature. I do take pride in succeeding above him in 3 classes. He is 2 classes above me but, that’s not the point. I do admit, he’s attractive. Only a little though, how else would he charm his way through the professors and students.

“Alright, I’m ready to go. You guys done?”

“Yeah,” I say. Devyn and I start leaving our seats and heading towards the huge doors.

Amelia hurried from her seat, a few steps behind since she took some fruit with her to eat on the way. More and more students also started making their way towards the first period. Not wanting to be blamed for the loss of house points. This system causes so many fights, everyone’s competitive side getting the best of their common sense. I would be lying if I said it didn’t get the best of me before. Amelia being her usual bubbly self skips backward while chatting with us. Before we could warn her to stop, she pushes someone ahead of her. Both falling down, hitting the floor. She spins her head extremely quickly, her hair sticking in her mouth from the force of the wind.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” she explains. Quickly trying to digest her situation. I make my way towards her and pull her up. I fix her robe and dust off any dirt on the cloth from the floor.

“Clearly idiot, can you not use those bug eyes of yours to see?”

Devyn and I make eye contact. We understand that there are witnesses here, and one of them is bound to snitch on us if we fight. A huge scene would probably make Amelia feel even more embarrassed as well. Instead, I guided Amelia by her back. We continue on to class while I comfort her. Devyn is staying back to “talk” to the guy. Lestrange is in for it now, any poor soul would be when in the fiery path of her anger.

Devyn’s loud yells could still be slightly heard when entering the potions classroom. First class of the year, and day. On Slughorn’s table, I can see a vial with the wideye potion contained inside. I set Devyn’s textbook on her station, turning to the page that contains information on the potion. Hoping to save her confusion and time.

“Welcome, welcome! Nice to see some old faces, and new ones,” he says with the biggest grin on his face. “Today we’ll be learning about the Wideye potion. Can anyone tell me what this potion does?”

I quickly raise my hand, rather eager. I did some reading about a lot of potions during the summer. Trying to get a headstart on my studies. This potion being one of them. Only 3 students raised their hand, one of them being me. The other, well, Riddle.

“Yes, go ahead and answer,” the professor looks my way.

I smile, “The wideye potion prevents the person consuming the liquid the ability to fall asleep. Which is often used in the medical field to wake someone from a sleep caused by a blunt force or drug.”

“Precisely! 10 points.”

I look back rather smugly at Riddle, rather happy I got chosen instead of him. I know, he could have easily answered that too. I’ll let myself bask in the small achievement for now. 30 minutes of class is just spent writing down notes, preparing us for the potion we will make. Note-taking is my favorite, especially the little doodles I get to make. We use a feather instead of the regular pen. I found it rather amusing and liked the certain feeling of writing with it. The dipping noise that the point of the feather makes when hitting the liquid ink is a very profound sound. No real writer’s bump forming on my fingers.

“That’s enough writing, I need you all to prepare your cauldron, gather the materials you need, and start your potion. If done correctly, tomorrow when we add the finishing touches and check on it the potion should be a blue/green color,” Slughorn comments. “You have 10 minutes to study your notes, then the rest of the class to make your potion. No looking back at your notes after those ten minutes.”

After scanning my notes, I stand up and walk towards the ingredients on the shelves. If I remember correctly my potion requires snake fangs, standard ingredient, and wolfsbane. I gather all that in my hand and set it down near my cauldron. Before I start, I take a moment. I’m missing something, I’m sure there was another ingredient.

Wolfsbane, check.

Snake fangs, six of them.

I have the measures of Standard ingredient.

There’s one more, I try to look around the room. Then I remember that we get an automatic failing grade if caught cheating. There’s no way I’ll let my grade drop like that. Over something so small and inconvenient too. Making my way to the shelves, I scan over the ingredients over and over again. Trying to see if any of the names pop out to me.

No.

Definitely not.

That’s an ingredient?

I don’t even want to know how that one was obtained.

This one, of course it’s this one. I even remember putting a star next to the name in my notebook. Dried Billwig stings, I believe six of them were needed. All that time wasted. Hurrying to my seat I get to work. The time goes by quickly, all that could be heard was the sizzling and whooshing of our potions. I almost knocked down my vials a couple of times. Someone actually did, their time spent on cleaning the glass off the floor. After heating the first three ingredients, I crush them together in the mortar. Then stir clockwise from what I recall, three times specifically. Finally, I wave my wand over then leave it to brew.

Just in time from the looks of it. I glance at Devyn to see how it went for her, and she looks pretty proud of herself. I take that as a blessing that it didn’t blow up this time of round. I’m guessing she took our advice and did it her own way.

A student raises his hand, “May we leave?”

“Oh yes yes, go ahead. No assignments for the first day, only the potion you made in class.”

Before I leave the classroom I examine Riddle’s station. He already left the room. His potion looks similar to how mine turned out, his workspace thoroughly cleaned. Everything used properly placed back to where it should be. Perfectly spotless, not a single speck of dust in sight. All done without magic too, surprising for someone born into the wizarding world. When I mentioned that I met him once, it wasn’t much of anything. The only way I know how he really acts is through other people. Much admire his intelligence and strong will. Others are jealous of the potential he holds for the future.

Girls are already trying to slip love potions into his drinks. I would feel bad if he wasn’t so rude to them. Only just before touching the disrespectful line. He almost drank one of their attempts before. Wouldn’t want to imagine how that turned out. Tom riddle, in love. That man probably doesn’t know the feeling of happiness, let alone love. I feel bad for his future girlfriend, she’s going to have to deal with a handful of baggage.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“How much do you want to bet Nott will demolish him?” A Gryffindor girl to my left whispers.

Nott, part of Riddle’s group from what I’ve seen. They all eat lunch together and talk to one another so it’s a reasonable guess. Very talented duellist, one of the bests here.

“I hate to admit it, but he’ll definitely win this. I’ll still have hope for the other guy though,” I whisper back trying not to sound mean.

Nott and the other Slytherin boy are up right now. It’s a courtesy for the audience to stay quiet until someone casts the first attack or defense. From then on all you will hear is shouting of encouragement and the opposite. Nott’s eyes are focused, zoning in on the opponent before him. His wand is steady, mouth slightly parted to breathe through better. Whole-body alert and tense waiting for something. From what I'm getting, I believe he’s waiting for the Slytherin boy to go first. Nott casts spells quickly and thinks them through decently. Sometimes you're not able to create a counter-spell quick enough to defend yourself against him.

Riddle’s group and himself are near the corner of the platform. All seemingly analyzing every breath he inhales and exhales. I finally hear the whoosh of a wand and a whiz of light fly past the platform. The glow from the spell lighting our faces for a millisecond. Nott quickly counters that spell and moves to cast his own. Magic flies across the platform, all of our eyes going back and forth like a ping-pong match. The Slytherin boy starts breaking a sweat. He’s only been able to get a couple of offensive spells in there, most of his plays spent throwing off Nott’s. If he doesn’t turn the battle soon, the outcome will become very clear.

It is a little less exciting since we only know a handful of spells. So whatever you know from your own studies you use in these duels. When we move up the years the class will become more serious and dangerous. Right now it’s just to teach us how to counter and cast quickly. The proper etiquette and movement. You use spells that you know, they aren’t supposed to harm someone. Either stun them, make them fly back, or disarm. Most of those spells require a little of a higher level, most of us not even knowing of its existence yet. So what’s mostly cast between competitors is a basic spell to exert force. That force should be aimed for the legs, or the wand to disarm that way. The way someone can win here is to make their knees or hands touch the floor, or disarm their wand. As I mentioned, it will get more intense as time goes by. We're only just starting 3rd year right now, a lot more charms will be learned later on.

I shake my head to get rid of any lingering thoughts. My attention goes right back to the duel taking place in front of me. Nott quickly aims a spell at the knees and manages to bring the other boy to his knees.

“Mr. Nott wins this duel! Please step off the platform, we will evaluate your performance.”

During the practice duels today, you watch it, think of ways to help the person improve, and point out things they might have done wrong. At the end, the professor picks people raising their hands to allow them to give their feedback. Participating is part of the grade you get in here. I personally prefer giving feedback then dueling. I’m not the best at casting, I do give out good defense spells though. That should mean something, I hope.

“Let’s start with Nott, does anyone have feedback for him?”

A couple of people spread apart raised their hands. One by one they all ask questions and give feedback. They mention his feet and posture when he stands. Arms fully stretched out where it would have been more flexible to bend it slightly. When he casts he shouldn’t be walking backward. They shortly switch to the other boy’s questions and feedback. The way he never gave himself the opening to cast an offensive spell often. He would move around his area a lot. Almost slipping off the stage during one of those movements. Tom and his group privately discussed with one another. They’re probably giving Nott their own feedback and suggestions privately.

“Now, Riddle I want you to come up and…,” he scans the room for another student. After some time he points his finger at me. “You.”

I could have had a smooth sailing class. I was so close to not having to go up there. My hands start sweating a bit, my anxiety jumbling my thoughts together. Riddle’s already up there and soon to be on his side of the platform. Taking his wand out and wandering his fingers over the design. I gulp, a big toad stuck in my throat. I wipe my hands on my robe and start up the stairs. Riddle seems as unbothered as ever. We bow, turn, then walk ten paces back. During this time I try predicting who will cast first. I don’t know him very well, I’ve also never seen him duel.

I take my dueling stance and wait for the signal to start. Hoping, praying, that I don’t embarrass myself. Slipping up is not allowed, not when going against him.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

Taglist:

@empath-bunny

#tom riddle x oc #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #lord voldemort #death eaters #voldemort #horcrux #hogwarts #harry potter #wizard #post wizarding war #enemies to allies #enemies to lovers #angst #oc #poc #Oc is any race #moldy voldy

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thrillridesz · 4 years

Text

may the best man win ▫ changmin

➳ pairing: best friend!changmin x gender neutral!reader ( ft. boyfriend!juyeon ) ➳ genre: fluff, love triangle!au ➳ warnings/rating: mentions and consumption of alcohol (PG13) ➳ word count: 1.4k ➳ requested?: no

a/n : this is written as a birthday special for tbz’s resident dancing (sometimes biting) king, changmin ^^ happy changmin day! this is unedited for now, i’ll edit it soon though so i apologise in advance for any errors. this is also inspired by this one scene i saw from an offlinetv vlog featuring my favourite youtube couple, michael reeves and lilypichu ><

“Happy birthday, Changmin!”

Changmin smiled as Eric popped off yet another party popper, hooting with joy. He watched the glittery confetti fall to the floor quietly, the dimples in his cheeks deepening yet as he did, he couldn’t help but let his sights drift to you. You who looked so outrageously gorgeous today with that silly party hat on and that radiant smile that he loved so much. He always adored the way your eyes would shine with such genuine mirth and liveliness and the way you would throw your head back whenever you laughed at a joke someone said.

In a way, his birthday felt so much better just by having you here. Sure, Changmin would have appreciated everyone that came to the party today but it was you who made it extra special just like you always did with your presence. The two of you have known each other for almost half your lives now but you have always been such a calming and impactful figure in his life. You stood up for him when the bullies in the courtyard wouldn't back down and you shared your lunches with him whenever his parents were so busy they forgot about it. He still distinctly remembered the many nights the two of you would chatter over the phone, laughing about the weirdest things and then laughing some more until you were both clutching at your hurting bellies.

It wouldn’t take anyone with half a brain to realise he was fast catching feelings. Practically everyone who hung out with the both of you could tell... That is except you.

The look in Changmin’s eyes hardened as Juyeon draped his arm over your shoulder, his large hand pulling you closer to him as he whispered into your ear. Seeing you giggle at whatever Juyeon was telling you and knowing that it was another man who made you smile so merrily the way you did was a special form of heart wrenching.

Oh, how he wished he was the one next to you instead.

Changmin shook his head, the smile on his face dimming ever so slightly.

He shouldn’t be having such thoughts.

“Guys, anyone up for an impromptu arm wrestling match?” Sunwoo asked as he downed his shot of liquor, drawing up his sleeves, “I’ve been going to the gym lately and let’s be honest, I’m going to wreck all of you.”

Eric shot him a scathing look.

“Random much? I was going to say no until you said that so bring it on. We’ll see how good Mr ‘I go to the gym’ really is.”

Sunwoo smirked, a hint of determination in his expression.

“Sure. Losers take a shot.”

“What the hell?!”

Changmin leaned back, a smug grin hanging on his lips as he watched Sunwoo’s face simply crumple up in dismay.

“Losers take a shot, you said it. Now, drink.”

Glaring at Changmin, Sunwoo gulped down the drink in an instance and slammed the shot glass on the table. Blinking rapidly as he clenched his jaw while the strong alcohol burned the back of his throat, Sunwoo could feel his face growing hotter and hotter by the minute.

“How are all of you so strong? Especially you, Changmin! What have you been eating?”

Changmin shrugged nonchalantly.

“Just maintaining a healthy lifestyle.”

“Admit that you’re weak, Sunwoo,” Eric chuckled, clearly enjoying the whole thing a little too much. The dark haired boy simply remained silent, pretending not to hear as he shoved a handful of chips into his mouth.

“Let me have a go.”

All eyes turned to you and Changmin could have swore he felt his heart skip a beat. It was always this feeling of excitement and warmth whenever you were around and this time was no different.

“Ooh, we have a new contender!” Eric declared, putting on what he called his ‘gameshow host’ voice.

“Next to the arm wrestling table, we have... The formidable y/n! Ding ding ding!”

As you settled across the table from him, Changmin’s eyes glittered with mischief and playfulness as he tried to still the rapid beating of his heart that felt so delightful yet so nerve wracking.

“Might want to make sure you’re actually ready, y/n,” he said softly as he winked at you.

“We’ll see, Ji Changmin.” You shot him a grin and for a moment, Changmin wondered if that was considered breaking a rule. Aren’t you technically not supposed to make your opponent’s heart do all sorts of flips before a match?

As the two of you held hands and laid your elbows on the table, Changmin noticed Juyeon was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Juyeon?”

“He’s off taking a call, he’ll be back. Why, are you trying to catch me off guard? You’ll never.” You said, the grin on your face growing wider.

“1, 2... 3!” Eric called out and Changmin could feel you gripping on more tightly onto his hand as you tried to overpower him to no avail.

That sensation sent a pleasant jolt down his spine but he remained firm. In all honesty, you were no match for him. All of your strength was quite positively only a fifth of his and at any point of time, it would have been so easy for him to simply claim victory but he didn’t. Call him deluded but having your hand in his felt so right. He knew you were attached and having these thoughts weren’t technically justifiable per se but he couldn’t help it.

“Guys, I can’t...He’s too strong.” You said in between laughs.

“Giving up?” Changmin asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Never. I know I can’t win but at least let me fight for it.” You replied indignantly.

It was a split second decision but one that he was happy to make as he completely let loose, causing your hands to fall instantly to his side of the table, allowing you to win.

“You did that on purpose!” You pouted.

“I’m a gentleman. That’s what we do.” He said good naturedly.

Only to you, it seems.

“Why weren’t you a gentleman to me then?” Sunwoo chipped in with a miffed tone.

Changmin rolled his eyes as he lightly shoved the younger boy before looking up to see Juyeon entering the room with a cellphone in his hands. He would never admit it but whenever he saw Juyeon, he would feel his heart sink just a little.

“What did I miss?”

“Oh, Changmin and y/n had an arm wrestling match. Y/n won.” Eric said, popping a piece of candy into his mouth.

Juyeon’s eyes widened before they crinkled into crescents as he turned to Changmin.

“Went easy, huh?”

“Juyeon!” You whined in protest, throwing a pillow at him which he dodged, laughing as he did.

Changmin returned the smile even though he didn’t really want to.

“I guess.”

“Why don’t the two of you arm wrestle? Juyeon, you haven’t had your turn!” Sunwoo pointed out to which you nodded your head, voicing your approval.

“Yes! Avenge my fallen pride, Ju!” You called out.

“Mine too.” Sunwoo said, still sounding a little disgruntled.

“Same here!” Eric quipped.

“Alright, alright. Calm down, you guys.”

As Juyeon settled in front of Changmin, he couldn’t help but feel a certain sort of fiery energy radiating from the man across him. There was this sense of intimidation he was feeling and as he looked into those dark eyes of his, Juyeon could tell that beneath that bright, adorable appearance Changmin had, there was something lurking behind that exterior.

“You’re probably just thinking too much, Juyeon. Changmin is a friend,” he thought to himself as they clasped their hand together.

“It’s all fun and games, dude. May the best man win.” Changmin whispered, causing Juyeon to snap up his head to stare at him.

“1, 2 and... 3!” You yelled out and before Juyeon knew it, his hand was slammed against the table and he had lost. The dull pain on his knuckles was nothing compared to the shock in him.

The room erupted into chaos as Eric jumped up and down excitedly while Sunwoo shook Juyeon by the shoulders but he barely registered anything. There was definitely no mistaking what he’d seen. As he followed Changmin’s gaze to you who had your jaw hanging open at how fast that match went by, Juyeon realised with a start that perhaps things weren’t really always all fun and games.

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prodbyteez · 4 years

Text

khj. twitterpated [f]

(adj.) love-struck

prompt: take me laser tagging and then push me into a corner and kiss me. then shoot me and walk away

laser tagging was the one thing you could proudly say you were better than anyone at. it was your pride and joy. something your father had dragged you into at the ripe age of 5 and you were still carrying on now 15 years later. so here you were now, surrounded by friends on your birthday, putting on your gear and making sure your trigger button wasn’t getting stuck when you pressed it.

ready to get humbled?

you turned around to meet the owner of the sound of the voice. kim hongjoong. the only person who ever got away with teasing you without you beating them over the head with whatever object was closest to you. maybe it’s because he’s done it since you met him at the laser dome your father first took you to 15 years ago. or maybe it’s because he stands up for you when all your other friends tease you. or maybe it’s because you have the fattest crush on him.

you ready for your ego to finally be shorter than you?

i’m still taller than you, you know

yes, but still shorter than the rest of your friends

meanie

shortstacks

you both laughed at each other and moved to stand in front of the screens that would randomize each person’s team. the robotic voice boomed through the gear room.

ASSESSING PLAYERS...TEAM RED AND TEAM BLUE...LOADING TEAMS...

you saw your player tags appear on the screen under the respective colors.

looks like we’re enemies for this game

you looked for your name. team blue. then, looked for hongjoong’s name. team red

looks like we are shortstacks. what’re you gonna do?,

he sucked in a sharp breath

just cause it’s your birthday does not mean i’ll go easy on you

i expect nothing less from the only person who can beat me at laser tag

you walk away to stand in front of the doors that would lead you to the arena holding your laser gun close to your chest like you were about to fight in world war 3. you were not gonna let kim hongjoong beat you today.

3...2...1 GO!

the doors opened and in ran 14 players, all scrambling to get to their bases to check the amount of ammo they had and whatever special abilities the buttons on their weapons and gear would allow them. you on the other hand went straight to your favorite spot: a small corner on the upper level of the ramp that allowed you a bird’s eye view of the ground, but also a full range of sight to anyone who tried to get up the ramps or across the top part of the arena. a spot only you knew about. or so you thought.

funny seeing you here

you freeze at the sound of his voice. hongjoong? but how did he know about this place? besides his special hiding spot was on the bottom floor.

how did you find me

i followed you

stalker

he laughed and slunk into the corner with you to avoid his presence being caught by any other players. you scooted far enough in your corner to give him space, but also far away enough for him so he couldn’t shoot the target on your chest without moving his wrist into an uncomfortable position.

soft laser gun sounds rung in the background with the occasional yell from your friends to their teammates. the glow in the dark lights illuminated both your faces adding the perfect ambience for the moment you two were sharing.

he spoke first,

i can’t believe it’s been 15 years since i first met you

me neither

you chuckled at the fond memory of you beating 8 year old hongjoong in your first laser tag game and watching him cry to his mom as you went up to him and gave him a hug because you “felt bad for winning.”

his head lolled to the side to look at you better as you turned your head to him.

what going on in that brain of yours kim?

you’re really pretty

you were so happy that the glow in the dark lights weren’t bright enough to illuminate the redness of your cheeks at the moment.

flirting with the enemy are we?

hmm, don’t know. maybe i’ve always had a thing for girls holding a laser gun

the butterflies in your stomach only grew stronger. their flaps irresistible to the feeling in your heart.

what’re you trying to say dude?

well, ‘dude’, he moved in closer to you to a point where you were almost trapped by him in the corner. was he always this tall?

what i’m trying to say...his face grows closer to you as you feel his breath fan your lips, is that i like you. and i know you like me too.

how...i don’t...who told you

seonghwa

you made a mental note to kill the tall boy as soon as you got out of this situation.

alright fine. i do like you. so what’re you gonna do about it?

it only took a little lean from you to finally kiss him. your used your free, gun-less hand to cup his face as your eyes both fluttered shut. you could feel him grinning into the kiss as he pulled away and whispered softly,

please don’t think my following actions have anything to do with what just happened.

what’re you-

GAME OVER

you stared down at your illuminated vest, now flashing red.

did you just...seduce and kill me?

for the sake of the game. and time together. i was gonna tell you to-

you shot him before he could finish his sentence.

yeah that

and before you knew it you both abandoned your gear on the floor and let the soft glow of lights in the corner and laser gun noises become the perfect scene for your hearts to collide

#hongjoong #kim hongjoong #ateez #hongjoong fluff #ateez fluff #ateez imagine #ateez scenario #ateez one shot #writingsbyteez

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gstqaobc · 3 years

Text

Our dear Queen: never alone THE MONARCHIST LEAGUE OF CANADA 🍁🇨🇦

FOR TOMORROW, OUR QUEEN'S ACTUAL BIRTHDAY,,,We invite members to respond by return email by completing one of the following sentences in no more than 25 words of which we will publish an assortment of the most interesting tomorrow. You never know what might happen if yours is judged best. NB: this challenge is not the place to express condolences to The Queen or refer to her recent loss, which we each will do in our own way, with a full heart and no interest in publicity or reward. 1) I find The Queen's most endearing trait to be... 2) If I could ask HM one question, it would be... 3) If I were asked to give one piece of loyal advice to our Sovereign, I would say... LEAGUE POETRY COMPETITION ON THE NINETY-FIFTH BIRTHDAY OF THE QUEEN THREE WINNING POEMSWe were surprised and delighted by the number of entries in this first poetry competition of the League. But then, given its subject, perhaps we should not have been taken aback. The sentiments were universally heartfelt and the loyalty clear. We are therefore awarding three prizes. Two were written in English and one in French: naturally, we are not translating them! The first is a subtle evocation of The Queen’s sense of duty and her love of horses - the poet’s reference to giving up riding was of course an allusion to HM’s ceasing to ride at Trooping the Colour - she enjoys riding as relaxation to this day! The second is true to the spirit of Holst’s stirring melody, known to many as “I Vow to Thee, My Country.” And the third, the winner, explores HM’s Realms whimsically with a touch of gravity by means of their national foods. The poems could not be more different - which is as it should be. Our thanks to all who entered the competition! SECOND PRIZE TIED by Tom MacGregor, Ottawa ON QUEEN ELIZABETH’S 95th BIRTHDAY On her ninety-fifth birthday, I think of the Statue on Parliament Hill Of her confidently seated On a horse named Centennial Given to her by The Royal Canadian Mounted Police. The small woman unveiled it In 1991 after she had given up riding. Still, she carried on More than 60 years as Queen And 95 of service. FIRST PRIZE by an anonymous member who is donating the value of the prize to supply a food treat to the homeless today in honour of The Queen’s birthday QUEEN OF THE SIXTEEN REALMS On the 95th birthday of Elizabeth II PROLOGUE Elizabeth, to your Realms grandmother, sister, friend and Queen: How can we embrace you, and today let you know That we would your sorrow share, wish you could lean On our sixteen hearts, like the drums, beating slow. We look back as you must on Philip’s decades: Your strength and stay during storm and fair days. We gaze also to our future wish: grief ‘midst memories fades To joy of life full-lived, walked on the fields of praise. So follows our birthday wish, from Realms richly diverse, Who now tune their heart-strings to the happier times Which will follow, dear Ma’am, as sure as sunrise: A great truth of life, which we need not more rehearse, But, rather, assure you: north, west, east, southern climes Gather round to uphold you, dear Queen - loving and wise! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Elizabeth, our Queen and friend, the nations’ joy and pride, Her 95th today is hailed through Realms both far and wide; And since all share in most fond wish to serve special birthday treat - These lines some local fare suggest - loyal banquet so replete! In ANTIGUA AND BARBUDA, small islands to be sure, But big in heart and loyalty - FUNGIE ‘tis special allure: Polenta-based and spicy hot, with pepperpot ‘tis served, A treat for their beloved Queen, one surely well deserved! Down Under, AUSTRALIAN mates present their VEGEMITE: This brewers’ yeast extract not yet the world’s delight! But served on toast throughout the land, a tribute singular - quite - Antipodean Queen finds on Aussie plate a most distinct delight. THE BAHAMAS offers special dish: folk there pluck CONCH from sea: And dressed with lime and vegetables - ‘tis rich in Vitamin C! Bahamian Sovereign will enjoy devouring “Queen Conch” recipe, Dressed with fruit, offered with love and Island loyalty BARBADOS, amidst disloyal dance, bakes up its famed RUM CAKE On which Monarch’s pain at such dalliance might well her sweet tooth slake; Since toothsome confection is topped up with frequent rum infusion: EIIR hopes (though’d never say) “Drink deep: to republican confusion!” BELIZE proffers its BOIL UP, reminiscent of the pie in rhyme: No blackbirds for its Queen today, but fish, eggs, veggies: good time! Tis topped with broth and dough, then baked - a treat fit for a princess, The Central American domain diverse could offer her no less! CANADA may indeed be home to most loyal Maple Throne: Thus on this day POUTINE shall stand in prominence, alone: Like the Dominion, flavours many, with toppings beyond measure - As each in own way toasts our Queen, the True North’s splendid treasure! GRENADA’s OIL DOWN, savoury-sweet, a one pot dish of stew, With coconut leaching flavours out to make each casserole new To taste - and variegated ever for all this island nation. Which prospers under Reign of she whose birthday brings elation! Next in our roll of Realms, JAMAICA, island, of many peoples, blest To keep cool ‘neath tropical sun with ACKEE AND SALTFISH zest: Its spices mirror nation’s mix, from planters to Bobsled team; And dread-locked Rasta men, who share deepest love of Queen. PAVLOVA is NEW ZEALAND’s gift to the arts culinary, Its Kiwi, cream, meringue mix cherished by settlers as by Maori; Whether Hobbits share such taste, brave Frodo first and foremost, We know not - but all in the island realm drink to EIIR a toast! If MUMU you were offered while exploring PAPUA NEW GUINEA shore, Polyglot island lines hot coals with leaves - adds meats, fruit, veg and more, To make a stew from ground oven of savour nonpareil, Thus honouring their Queen and friend with two Hemispheres’ “hooray.” SAINT KITTS AND NEVIS to birthday brings STEWED SALTFISH, which they blend With coconut dumplings and plantains for feasting without end, As no close they ever sight in good Queen’s service to tiniest sovereign state In Hemisphere - large they be in duty, love - thus this day they fete! SAINT LUCIA pairs fish and fig, GREEN FIG AND SALTED COD! Antilles population takes a week to give the nod To stew that melds, as island does two seas, Atlantic and Caribbean, And mix a Bounty cocktail to raise their glass to Queen! A BREADFRUIT ROASTED in iron pot, add fried jackfish for great repast, Is SAINT VINCENT & THE GRENADINES’ entrée, not easily surpassed: Its thirty-two islands celebrate their Monarch’s special day, Sing “...Land, so Beautiful” to big drum, calypso, steel pan and reggae! Now Taro roots make sticky POI, SOLOMON ISLANDS’ favorite food, The wise old King lends his name to 900-strong island brood; Thus Melanesian Queen presides, with Governor-General elected: Their birthday bouquet beauteous, as from 200 orchid strains selected! TUVALU brings to feast PULAKA, swamp taro cooked for hours: Raising ocean discourages cultivation - ‘tis time for Commonwealth powers To use their world wide fellowship to save this crop essential: Their Queen fears global warming looms, Polynesian threat potential. The UNITED KINGDOM is Elizabeth’s home, of sixteen Realms The Queen: No longer a colonial power, but from Empire’s legacy yet seen: Its “national dish” CHICKEN TIKKA MASALA now claims pride of place, Transcending old-style differences of climate, Raj and race! ~! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ EPILOGUESo, all hail, dear Queen, gracious Lady: your true realms lie deep within, Not geographic, to be sure, but values kingly. gracious, human; Constant Commonwealth care for its nations great and small, Reflects deep-reciprocal, hailed to your heart, one voice echoed by all! So here’s to Elizabeth - long may she reign, long live our monarch so great! Here’s to her courage in fair weather or foul, duty done, chosen not - happy fate! Here’s to the faith ever kept, beyond clamour of sectarian creeds; Here’s to the hope she brings all, so nourishing humankind’s needs; Here’s to her ninety-fifth birthday, her years’ gift to us, thus today we proclaim:God willing, all your Realms do their duty And each subject in turn do the same!

GSTQAOBC 🇨🇦🇬🇧🇦🇺🇳🇿

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s0seo · 4 years

Text

The Heir Chapter 1

Pairing: OT7 x Reader WC: 3755

Rating: M

Genre: Vampire au with lots of angst and eventual fluff and smut

Summary: After you and your friend are attacked during a night out, you discover a world much bigger and more dangerous than you could have ever imagined.

WARNINGS: 18+, Lots of blood, swearing, assault, death of Minor character

A/n: I really want to thank @noonaduck @autumns-sweaters @solitudiante for beta reading this and helping me get this where it needed to be. I hope you all enjoy!

You see the seconds on the clock counting down, your heart pounding in your chest.

5, 4, 3, your favorite team is only two points down and is trying to beat the buzzer.

The player throws the ball past half court and into the hands of his teammate who turns to throw from the three-point line. As he shoots the ball you feel time slow down and you hold your breath.

2, 1 you see the ball flying, barely hitting the rim of the basket before falling through the net just as the buzzer sounds. The stadium erupts in cheers and you smile. You knew bringing him to this game was a good idea. Looking to your friend standing next to you, you can tell by his gummy smile that he feels the same. Still facing him, you glance again at the scoreboard.

“What did I say Yoongs? Never bet against Daegu.” He rolls his eyes and retorts, “I wasn’t doubting. I just said they were cutting it close.”

You stay in your seats for a few minutes while you wait for the stadium to clear out a bit. Deciding now would be the perfect time to order your Uber, you put in your order and see a few different messages from your other friends. Leaning back in your seat, you gesture to Yoongi to wait a moment while you respond to each one.

The first one you see is from Namjoon.

Namjoon: How’s the game going? Are you guys having fun?

Y/N: Sorry, I didn’t hear my phone go off. Yeah, the game was great! It was super loud though, but I think Yoongi enjoyed it too.

Next you see a few messages from Jin.

Jin: Hey text me when the game is over and we can probably meet up for drinks

Jin: Scratch that I went ahead and picked up a shift for tomorrow morning and you know I need my beauty sleep. Maybe next time!

Y/N: No worries! Just let me know when you’re free and we can hang out.

You see that you have a message from Jungkook as well

Jungkook: Hey me and the others were thinking about heading to my dad’s club next weekend, you in?

Y/N: I’m alright. Honestly, I’m not a big fan of clubs.

Y/N: Thanks for the invite though. Maybe we can do something else.

You’re beginning to wonder why they don't just message you through the group chat when you see a new notification.

Hobi: I need your help applying for some of these scholarships for next semester. I have to write a few letters and you know how bad my writing is.

Hobi: Please???

Y/N: Don’t worry about it. You free next week? How many letters do you need?

Finally, you see one last unanswered message.

Jimin: Tae and I were thinking about going to the beach tomorrow, wanna join us? Ask Yoongi too!

You look over at Yoongi and catch him browsing his phone as well, already knowing what his answer is going to be.

Y/N: Definitely! I don’t think Yoongs will come though. You know he doesn’t really like being outside.

Y/N: I think he’s supposed to visit his parents next week so let’s try to go then instead?

Y/N: Would you be willing to wait for me?

Rising out of your seat, you place your phone in your pocket and say to Yoongi as you stretch,

“I think the crowd has died down enough.”

He nods to you in response as he lets out a small yawn, and you can tell he’s getting tired.

“C’mon let's head out,” you say as you start your climb up the stairs towards the exit. You look back and continue with the suggestion, “let’s grab a few drinks to celebrate and head home. After all, it’s not every day my best friend turns 25.”

You are only met with a grunt which you consider translates to “that’s a great idea,” and finish your climb in silence,

As you reach the top of the stairs, you see that even the thinned crowd is still a giant mass of people.

‘So much for an easy exit,’ you think to yourself as you turn to Yoongi and see from his face that he’s thinking the exact same thing.

You realize that when you had the idea to take him to his first professional basketball game to celebrate his birthday, you didn’t take into consideration how crowded it was going to be when the game was over. Taking his hand, you lean close to him.

“Stay close. I’m gonna try and make a path for us.”

You then pull him along and start forcing your way through the crowd. When both of you finally make it out of the building, you lean against the wall, close your eyes, and breathe, thankful for the fresh air filling your lungs. From the sound to your left you can tell that Yoongi is doing the same.

You both really hate crowds, and you realize that this was probably the largest amount of people you two have been around in years. You pull out your phone to see how far away your Uber is, thankful that the app only says five minutes. ‘Good,’ you think to yourself, ‘I knew it was a good idea to wait until the stadium cleared a bit. This traffic is terrible.’ You look over to Yoongi and ask, “so, how do you feel? Did you have fun tonight?”

You knew when you bought the tickets that he wasn’t a fan of large crowds or loud noises, neither of you were, but you hope that he at least had fun seeing his favorite team in real life tonight. He looks away for a moment, forming his response.

“I really liked it. I’ve always wanted to come to one of these. Growing up you know my family never really had money, and basketball was sort of my way of escaping my reality. Even though I wasn’t the tallest or the fastest, playing gave me a sense of control that I wished I had over other parts of my life, so thank you.”

You understand, remembering how much his family was struggling financially when you became friends. How he struggled with his parents and his dreams of playing basketball and becoming a music producer. You lean into him and say, “I’m happy that I could make your birthday a good one.”

You look away, garnering your courage to admit what you have been wanting to say all night. “Honestly, I was a little worried about the noise and the crowd, but I’m glad we could do something together. It’s been a while since we spent some time together without all the others, you know.”

He smiles to himself, knowing just how you feel. He thinks for a moment about just how lucky he is to have someone like you in his life, someone who he doesn’t have to explain himself to and understands his way of thinking even better than he does sometimes. He quietly whispers under his breath too low for you to hear, “this is the best birthday I could’ve hoped for,” and looks away to the cars still exiting the parking lot. You both stand there in silence for a while, leaning on each other, lost in your own thoughts while waiting for the Uber to arrive.

You reflect on how far your relationship has come. Growing up together you both continuously saw each other grow into the people you were today. You remember how excited he was when he made the basketball team and the pride he developed for his position as shooting guard. He remembered how proud you were when you became the top student in your class and how your classmates referred to the both of you as “the dream team” dominating sports and academics.

He was good at every sport he set his mind to, basketball, soccer, and tennis. You worked hard to be at the top of your class while also being captain of your school’s debate team, math team and foreign language program.

You let out a sigh as you think about your other friends. You knew they wanted to join you tonight, but you could only manage to grab two tickets before the others sold out. You were lucky you even got these. You glance over at your friend, and you’re pretty sure his level of disappointment at it only being the two of you isn’t that high.

You and Yoongi first met them your junior year of high school after one of the other school districts was forced to shut down its campus due to a lack of funding, and yours was forced to merge with it.

Along with over 150 other students who would now compete with you and your best friend, came six others who would later become the people who knew you better than your own family. Jimin, Namjoon, Jin, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Hoseok were all strangers you both found yourselves competing against constantly.

Yoongi often found himself competing with Taehyung, Jungkook and Jimin for captain positions, and you found yourself having to fight tooth and nail to beat Namjoon, Jin, and Jungkook as well for the top spots in your clubs. The only two you didn’t have a problem with were Taehyung and Hoseok. That was until Yoongi decided to try out for the dance team and you developed an interest in photography.

Stuck together for hours and hours, you soon realized that although you were all different people you all actually had a lot in common besides your clubs.

You were all passionate about your dreams of success and you all agreed to help each other succeed any way you could. You came to a compromise that allowed everyone to succeed while always pushing each other to do their best.

His friendship with the others wasn’t as close as yours was. Even though you were all like a family to each other, you couldn’t help but feel like each of them grew closer to you than they had each other.

You shrug to yourself, not really feeling up to analyzing your friendships tonight, but looking over at Yoongi, you know he’s already thinking of how to tell the others how much he enjoyed tonight without making it seem like he had fun without them, and you wish that he felt like he could be more honest with how he feels sometimes.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket pulling you out of your thoughts, and you see that your ride has finally arrived. “Come on,” you say to Yoongi, grabbing his attention with a nudge of your shoulder.

“Let’s get something to drink then call it a night.”

Deciding to head to your regular bar, you and Yoongi order your drinks and take a seat in your regular booth towards the back.

After drinking your way through a4 bottles of soju, you think it is about time for the both of you to head out. You order another Uber and head to the bathroom, telling Yoongi to just wait for you outside.

Making your way out of the bar your head begins to spin and you chide yourself for not grabbing food before coming. You stumble outside and look around, not spotting Yoongi anywhere.

You could’ve sworn you saw him come out here before you went to the bathroom. You pull out your phone and text him.

Y/N: where are you

Seeing no response, you check the arrival time of your Uber and see it’s still a few minutes away.

You pull up Yoongi’s number and call him. The first call goes straight to voicemail and you curse as you dial his number again. This time even though you don’t get an answer you hear his phone ringing nearby. Searching for the source of the sound, you turn the corner and see his lit-up phone ringing on the ground in the alleyway.

It’s hard to see given that the only light is coming from a dimly lit bulb above the door on the side of the building, but it’s only a few feet away.

You look around and call out for him, already feeling yourself beginning to sober up as your heart begins to pound in your chest.

“Yoongi? Are you out here? Are you okay?” You take a deep breath and begin walking into the alley, becoming very aware of how quiet it has gotten.

Seeing nothing but a dumpster, some empty bottles, and some trash bags you reach down for his phone and pick it up. The screen is cracked, but you can see that it still works.

You glance around once more and realize how sketchy this feels.

Deciding to turn back you think to yourself ‘he probably just dropped his phone out here before going back inside or something.’

Your thoughts are interrupted however when you hear a bang against the dumpster. You turn around, and you hear it again though this time it’s quieter. You turn on your phone’s flashlight and quietly walk towards the dumpster, ready to run away if you need to. As you get closer you hear what sounds like a person moaning.

You dim your flashlight, turn the corner of the dumpster, and you freeze. What you see makes you want to scream.

Yoongi is lying on the ground against the wall covered in blood. He is being pinned down by a man dressed in black. Yoongi’s eyes slowly blink at you.

‘You have to help him! You have to help him’ your thoughts scream at you. You have to be smart though, you realize. Judging by his form, you can already tell that he is much bigger than you.

You look around for something, anything that you could use to save your friend. The man hasn’t seemed to notice you yet, but you know Yoongi can’t last much longer, not with the amount of blood he’s lost.

Deciding that your best option is to hit the man off of Yoongi, you quietly reach down for the biggest bottle you can find, and sneak up behind him before bringing it down on his head as hard as you can.

You see him lean forward, startled and injured by the unexpected attack, and you hit him again, this time reaching forward and pulling him off of your friend.

He seems to be knocked out.

You crouch down in front of Yoongi and look around for help. Out of the corner of your eye you see a person walking near the road at the end of the alley.

“Hey! Call an ambulance! Call the police, hurry!” you yell out to them and see them quickly run back towards the entrance of the bar.

You breathe a sigh of relief before looking back at your friend to inspect his wounds. You can already tell that he has two large gashes: one on his right side and one on his shoulder near his neck, and so much blood.

You can see his short breaths fogging up the cold night.

Reaching for his face, you whisper to him, already feeling your tears beginning to fall.

“Yoongs, it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

Receiving no response, you say again, “Yoongs? Yoongi, can you hear me?”

You look at his wounds again and place your hands on them, hoping to stop any further bleeding until the ambulance arrives.

Suddenly you feel your entire body jerked backwards. You hear a crack as your body forcefully slams into the brick wall of the building. Feeling your breath leave your lungs, you gasp for air. Tasting copper on your tongue, you realize that your nose has started to bleed and reach up to touch the back of your head with your fingertips, only to realize that you’re bleeding from there as well.

You look up and see the blurry shape of the man glaring down at you.

His face looks angry and he is bleeding along the side right where you hit him earlier. “YOU!” he seethes in recognition as he brings his face near yours, already looking forward to repaying you for the wound on his head and growls at you. “They said to bring you in in one piece, but I don’t think a few scrapes would hurt.”

None of what he’s saying is making any sense to you right now.

‘Who is this man,’ you wonder. ‘Why does he seem to know you?’

Desperately glancing behind him at Yoongi you feel more tears fall. You realize that he’s losing too much blood. He probably won’t make it out of this; neither of you will.

You look at the man as he brings his hand to your throat, and you reach your arms out searching for anything that could help you. You feel your fingers graze the broken neck of a bottle as your vision starts to fade, and you know what you have to do.

Placing your free hand on his arm, you choke out “why are you doing this?”

Your nails are digging deep enough to draw blood now. “Because,” he says lifting you up by the throat as he brings his face close to yours once again, “you ruined everything. More importantly, you pissed me off.”

He looks you in the eyes and you see him pause before licking his bottom lip and bringing his face towards the left side of your head. You can faintly hear sirens in the distance.

Realizing that now is your chance, you bring your right hand upwards sharply and stab him in the neck with the bottle. You twist it in deeper, feeling his blood cover your hand and spray across your face. You hear him let out a scream as he staggers away from you and pulls the bottle out of his neck.

You see blood pouring out of his wound as he rushes forward and slams you against the wall for a second time.

You feel a sharp pain in your right side before you see him stagger away towards the end of the alley. You slide down the wall, your breathing shallow, and your hand trembles as it makes its way to your side.

Bringing your fingers up to your face, you can see that they are covered in blood.

You see that his blood has soaked into your shirt, and you weakly drag yourself over to Yoongi’s now barely conscious body, your tears falling slowly.

You notice the bleeding from the wound on his side has slowed down immensely, and you understand that it’s because he’s running out of blood to lose.

You whisper out to him, your vocal cords crying out in pain from the man’s grip,

“Yoongi? Please look at me... Yoongi!” You reach out and check his pulse, choking out a sob as you realize it’s too weak to feel.

You move one trembling hand and press it against your still bleeding side while your other hand makes its way to the wound on his neck.

After what feels like hours you finally see the flashing lights of the ambulance. You move your hand from your side to cup Yoongi’s face and see his eyes fall to your face as he looks into your eyes and blinks slowly.

” Yoongi”, you whisper as you feel yourself begin to black out, “please be okay,” you barely manage your last word before your eyes shut and you fall forward against him.

A few blocks away...

The man staggers through the empty alleyway, clutching his neck hoping to slow the blood loss. He was lucky that he drained as much of that kid’s blood as he had, otherwise the wound would have killed him.

What was he thinking? He had one job. One job: find the girl and bring her to the abandoned studio. One job, and he couldn’t even do that.

He knew that he shouldn’t have bitten that kid, but he just couldn’t help himself, it had been weeks since he last drank anything.

That bitch ruined everything. If she had just stayed inside a little bit longer, he would have sucked the kid dry and taken her without anyone noticing.

He didn’t understand what was so special about her anyways. The only thing not unmentionably plain about her was her eyes.

They weren’t beautiful or anything, but he couldn’t help but look at them and once he did, he couldn’t convince himself to tear his gaze away.

Shrugging off the thought, he makes his way to the meeting point.

Hearing the faint sound of sirens in the distance, he quickly ducks inside the dark building and hopes that his client is feeling benevolent.

He moves his hand from his neck and sees that his wound has already started to heal. Releasing a heavy sigh, he checks the wound on his head and finds it fully healed. The only evidence left is the dried blood it produced.

He walks down the quiet hallway and opens the first door to his right just as instructed. However, when he enters the room there is nobody there.

Looking at his phone he checks the time remembering that he was supposed to arrive by 1:30 am. He sees that it reads 2:00 am.

‘Shit,’ he thinks to himself. ‘They probably already left.’

Walking further into the room, he begins planning his next move when suddenly he hears the door slam closed and feels a presence behind him followed by a hand wrapping around his throat.

“So,” the figure says from behind him, their voice sounding like a whisper brought by a phantom wind.

“Not only did you fail to deliver the girl, but you also managed to leave an entire shitstorm in your wake as well. There was a reason the word ‘quietly’ was included in your instructions.”

The man gasps for air and tries to respond but only manages to let out a grunt.

The figure releases its grip on the man, and the man sinks to his knees, gasping for air while clutching his neck.

“I’m sorry” he rasps,” Just tell the brotherhood I’ll get her for sure next time.”

The figure lets out a huff before walking around the man.

He stops just in front of the man’s bent knees and lifts him by the throat once more, this time squeezing tighter.

“There won’t be a next time,” the figure whispers before breaking the man’s neck and walking away.

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