#but she loves running so. alas there's too many distractions during races so she is like. looking around

[zaggyzoo]

went to see my niece's second running race

[amysteriousmessenger]

‘Love Bites’ Vampire!Saeran Choi Drabbles

Hello! This is one of my slightly belated pieces for @mysme-rbb, which I worked on with the very, very talented and sweet @amagicalduckling <3 Their art is so beautiful and I’m honoured to have been paired with them for some Saeran pieces! Please check out @amagicalduckling for more of their beautiful artwork, they are criminally underrated!!  Tw: mentions of blood, biting, vampirism, rough kissing Will be under the cut after Ray!

Vampire! Ray Drabble

Ray was melancholic by nature, you knew that, but you’d never had been able to guess why it if hadn’t been for that fateful night in the garden. He always did such a good job of hiding his fangs from you and brushing his hair over his ears so you couldn’t see their slightly pointed tips. He always kept his distance as best as he could, never coming too close into your personal space. You’d assumed it was out of respect and the nervousness of overstepping the boundaries, this idea was always aided by the fact that he usually looked a little bit strained whenever he was in your company.

The way you came to find out about Ray was because you had foolishly pricked your finger on a rose that he had been trying to show you outside. With the beautiful arrangements only being illuminated by moonlight, it had been difficult to see what you were doing, and you’d placed your finger directly onto the little spike and yelped in pain. As soon as you had pulled your hand back, to indicate what had caused you to cry out, Ray had immediately brought his own hand up to his mouth and feverishly covered it. You were confused and thought that perhaps Ray was sensitive to the sight of blood, but it was when he turned to run from you that you saw the white, iridescent fangs peering from behind his lips. You saw them, and he knew that you had. Ray ran at top speed away from you, leaving you with the drop of the blood slowly dripping down the side of your finger.

You felt a little lightheaded from the sight and had to stumble your way over to the bench, a… vampire? Surely, such things like that didn’t exist. They weren’t real. They were myths. Folklore. Children’s horror stories to tell before bed. And yet, as you considered Ray, really thought about him, you realised how quickly it all added up. He was so pale, sickly looking even at the best of times. You’d thought that the prominent blue veins on his neck and wrists was a result of his pasty complexion, but that was clearly not the truth of the matter. It also occurred to you that you never really saw him during the day, but he had always excused this fact as he must work arduously long hours and the only time he could find to get away and visit you was into the early hours of the night. While you supposed that there was at least some truth in that statement, it didn’t help the fact that it aligned with what you thought could be coming into fruition. Was he really a vampire? Had he been trying to hide it from you for all this time?  

And those fangs. Those could not be denied. They were the teeth of a predator, a hidden threat that he had tried so hard to keep a secret from you. So many questions raced through your head, and yet all you could worry about was where Ray was. He had left so quickly, clearly a bit distressed. You felt somewhat guilty for your own carelessness, but how were you to know? There was no way you would have guessed what was really happening here at Mint Eye. You had only been here to test a game, for crying out loud.

Suddenly, you felt anxious to be alone in the gardens at night, especially without Ray. Even if he was hiding something this serious from you, he was still the only person that you had gotten to make yourself friendly with. Well, in his case, more than a little bit friendly, but that was besides the point in that moment. You stood, trying to find your way through the maze of flowers and get back to your room but with little success. As you turned the corner, you spotted a figure at the other end of the path and it caused you to cry out in surprise, maybe slightly even in fear. It was Ray.

You’d never thought that the sight of Ray would ever frighten you, but as he stood there, pale and gaunt surrounded by the red flushes of rose petals, you had to wonder how you hadn’t realised it sooner. He looked guilty, and scared. So, so scared. You put your hands up to him slowly, asking if he was okay, but instead of receiving any sort of reply about his own wellbeing, Ray flurried out several apologies at you. He averted his gaze downwards, as though he felt as though he was no longer allowed to look at you directly for what he was. You stared at him as he spoke, focused on the slight protrusion of his sharp teeth over his lips. It was obvious that he had practiced speaking without making them visible, so you could only really see them if you were already looking for them.

‘Ray… It’s okay.’ You whispered, coming a little bit closer to him. He took a step back, moving his back up against the roses further so that he was surrounded by them. If it had been at any other moment, you would have taken the time to think about the fact he looked like a delicate portrait right then, the passion of the red surrounding his pale frame. But alas, you did not have that luxury.

‘It’s not! I scared you, oh how could I ever forgive myself! How could you ever forgive me for this! I should have been able to show more restraint… My savior was right, she’s always right…’ He replied almost frantically, to the point where you weren’t quite sure if he was talking to you or telling you his own inner monologue.

‘M-My Savior said that I’m not strong enough yet, which is why I find… you difficult to be around. I want to be around you always but- she says you’re too tempting for someone like me.’

‘Too tempting…?’ You asked, a slightly unsure as to what he meant. That was, until he gestured to your bleeding fingertip, and it suddenly made more sense to you. ‘I don’t mind if you… want to be around me. I want to be around you too.’ You added, attempting to phrase it in the same way that he did, since he was clearly skirting around using certain vocabulary. It made you realised that there was a good chance that Ray was unhappy about the fact he wanted you in such a way. If he allowed himself to get too close, he would inevitably bring you pain.

As you stepped closer to him, you watched as he reached his own leathered hand towards his mouth, anxiously biting onto the tips of the fabric. He wasn’t just chewing it, he was really biting it, to the point you were worried he might hurt himself.

You were suddenly moving quickly down the path towards him, ‘Ray! Please, stop that. It’s okay! I’m not scared of you.’

‘I’m scared that I might hurt you!’ He almost wailed. You knew that there was an obsessive nature to Ray, which walked hand in hand with his melancholy, but you knew that he wouldn’t hurt you like this. For the most part, he was tender-hearted and sensitive. Of course, he had room in that heart for hate, but yet, so much more room for sensitivity.

‘You’re not going to hurt me. I trust you.’

‘Please, be more careful with who you award your trust to. I don’t deserve it.’ He replied, but pulled his own glove away stiffly, since he didn’t want to worry you any further. At such a distance, he had nothing to distract himself from the pull he felt towards your blood.

‘If you want it, take it. I don’t want to see you be so strained over this. I don’t know what’s happening here at Magenta, but I know that you’re good. And kind.’ You were at his side, offering your hand to him. Initially, he tried to move his body away from your hand and cover his teeth again with his hand, but it was evident that he was growing more and more needy by the passing second. You tried to assure him that it was okay and reached out a slightly shaky hand to his cold cheek. ‘And I want to help you.’

After a few moments of tentative consideration, he took your offer. Ray watched your eyes as he held your finger in both of his hands, as though it was something fragile, delicate even. He hesitated before bringing it to his own lips, the thin line of dark red suddenly giving a burst of colour to his otherwise exceedingly white pallor. He gently took the blood that was already at the surface of your skin, closing his eyes as he did so, but you couldn’t decide whether it was out of shame or whether it was to savour the moment between the two of you. You gasped as you felt the sharpness of his teeth graze against your skin before he let the tip of them bite into your soft flesh, producing more of the red he was so desperately craving. It wasn’t as painful as you thought it would be, but your heart was still racing, nonetheless. When he was done, he pressed a single, sorry kiss into the palm of your hand and apologised for hurting you, adding that he was undeserving of your pain as he wiped the rest of the blood away with a handkerchief out of his pocket.

‘I’d rather be hurt a thousand times over than for you to have to suffer even once…’ He whispered into the darkness of the garden. Not that he would feel bold enough to tell you, but Ray undeniably saw the poetry in tasting your blood. He’s ashamed of what he is, but he relished in the fact that you were willing to share such a vital piece of yourself with him like this. He entirely made a mental plan to carry the handkerchief with him at all times, as a token and reminder of this newfound connection with you.

Vampire! Suit Saeran Drabble 

Meeting Saeran was an experience unto itself, let alone processing the surprise you received in how differently he treated you and himself. Saeran doesn’t hide what he is in the same way that Ray did, he acts proud of it. A shining example of what Mint Eye could offer to people with the Elixir, but only if they were strong enough to deserve it. He’s the strongest Believer and the strongest Vampire produced from the Elixir, The Savior said it herself. She called him her ‘One True Offspring’. When you had asked what that meant, since Ray had never mentioned anything like that to you, Saeran had angrily snapped that firstly, he shouldn’t have to answer your questions and secondly, it meant that he had been turned using The Savior’s own blood in the Elixir given to him. That meant that he was special, and better than anyone else there. He repeated that a lot, but you were never quite who if he was saying that to you or to himself but he clearly made an attempt to believe it, at least for his own sake.

Saeran carried himself around Magenta so differently to Ray, you heard his footsteps from down the corridor when he wanted you to know to anticipate him and yet you never heard him when he suddenly appeared behind you. He was most definitely choosing when to make his presence known and when he wanted to startle you from standing silently around a corner. Saeran certainly disproved to you the lore that Vampires needed to be invited into rooms in order to gain entrance, as he came in whenever he pleased. He never hid his fangs either or tried to cover his ears either with his unkempt hair, if anything, he seemed to enjoy the attention that could be brought to them by smirking at you or asking if ‘you like what you see, Princess?’ You could feel the anger in his voice, he was practically dripping with a rage that he did not know how to release properly. It weighed on his shoulders, and somehow seemed to push him in on himself to the point where he was constantly forcing himself to stand taller, to be louder so that he would not be entirely consumed by it. The atmosphere he carried was tense, to say the least. It seemed to make him paler. Saeran’s dark undereyes were no longer something a simple goodnight sleep could fix; they were almost bruises of their own. Purple, sunken.

While he was not lacking for blood in the same way that Ray had suffered without, it appeared that Saeran was overworking himself to the point that the added sustenance did little to actually aid him, so he kept on coming back for more and more each time. He appeared at any hour of the day or night, which suggested that he was no longer really sleeping, or if he was he was only sleeping for very short amounts of time, and it was really showing him his face. You were sure his appearance must have sat somewhere between Dorian Gray and his portrait, beautiful yet rotting. The way he felt on the inside was slowly, yet surely, manifesting itself. He was so capable of kindness, and yet he never allowed himself to admit to it. If Saeran didn’t have his cruelty, he didn’t have anything. He needed to hold onto it to hold himself together as the Persecutor.

His kisses were rougher too, leaving your lips feeling puffy, tender, and always breathless. He seemed to thrive on the fact he could make you feel so weak, as though it was precisely your weakness that gave him the strength he needed to carry on this strained life he led. He’d sneak up behind you frequently, with the confidence that Ray never quite found, and bury his face into the side of your neck, running rough kisses along it until you sigh against him from the touch, not even bothering to move your hair out of the way as he did so. Even as he kissed you like this, he’d taunt you for enjoying his touch so much in comparison to Ray, who barely ‘had the guts’ to touch you freely. Saeran would lift up your finger to show him the tiny bite impressions that Ray had originally left, only to have Saeran go over them more harshly with his own bite, before moving back up to your throat.

He dragged his fangs along the thin skin of your neck, so you knew it was coming, before promptly biting you. He doesn’t try to be delicate like Ray, and he’s more likely to take too much blood and leave you feeling woozy. He’ll take as much blood as he wants, really. Once you inevitably faint in his arms, he’d usually carry you back and placed you on the bed, but only so he can reprimand you for being such a burden to him. He’d never admit to anything else, especially not to feeling bad about pushing you to your limit.

‘Heh… Don’t look so happy with yourself, your blood tastes like shit anyway. I should go and find someone better, someone sweeter.’ He smirked before laughing, his eyes alive with a frantic excitement. He still had a small steak of blood running down his lips and onto his chin, which he promptly wiped away onto his black suit sleeve without releasing you from his unwavering gaze.

There were times when he’d suddenly stop laughing and looked at his blood-covered hand in disgust, before dragging that same gaze over towards you. He’d look at the redness on his hands and try to wipe it away, even after it dried and would not budge without soap and water. Saeran would still furiously rub his skin against the fabric of his clothes in a vain attempt to wipe his slate clean. You were never able to decipher what Saeran felt in the moment that he decided that ‘play time’ was over, but he never seemed happy about the outcome of the collision the two of you had found yourselves in, even when he was the one that instigated it. He’d half-assedly throw a bag of food from the kitchen at you, telling you that you ought to be grateful for having such a kind master for feeding you, before promptly turning on his heels to leave and slamming the door shut.

He was complicated, that was for sure.

 Vampire! GE Saeran Drabble 

Saeran had been through so much, and yet he was coming out stronger and stronger from it each day. He had a lot to process, about himself, the things that had happened to him and the things that he has done to other people, especially to you. Saeran had a difficult time accepting the he hurt you. He understands that he did it and he has accepted the fact that he did it, but somehow his heart never wanted to believe it. No matter how many times you told him he needed to forgive himself for it, Saeran knew that he never could.

He tried to make it up to you in every way that he could think of. He was so loving, so caring. He always served your food first, gave you extra helpings and always made dessert for afterwards. His food was always so well made, filled with all the vitamins and minerals that your body could have possibly needed and always tasted like he had been cooking his whole life. He’d even try to feed you the last few bites if you’d let him, just to make sure that you’d gotten enough food. It’s sweet, and he does it out of care, but there’s a part of Saeran that does it because he feels as though he needs to make amends to your body for the way he treated it.

He’s not keen on drinking your blood, he feels as though he’s taking advantage of you and doesn’t enjoy the fact that he has to hurt you to be able to do it. He’d looked into alternatives that he could try, such as blood banks or from animals, just any means of supply that didn’t involve hurting you. It didn’t work out very well and in the end it started to do him more harm than good, so he usually just tried to wait for as long as he can in between biting you. And even then, he waits for you to offer because he doesn’t want to pressure you into giving up so sacred for him, Saeran would much rather have himself suffer than to make you feel any sort of uneasy around him.

He was a lot more considerate and knowledgeable about the outside world nowadays, and would look into various ways of making it less painful for you: the most effective one to date being numbing creams. He’s not a fan of the chemical taste of the cream in his mouth, but he would happily deal with it if it was for your sake. While he did still have a preference for your neck, because it felt a little bit more romantic to him, Saeran would always give you the choice on where you wanted him to bite. He knows it’s not his body to dictate, and if anything, he actually wants you to put some more of your own rules in place about it. He’d be more than happy if you wanted him to do it somewhere less visible so that you could hide it from people. As long as you weren’t hiding your actual relationship with him, he wouldn’t mind. He’s very understanding of the fact that sometimes it is a little awkward to have marks like that in public and that you didn’t want to answer questions from strangers all of the time.

He was very gentle with it, making sure to apply the numbing cream beforehand and to avoid any particularly sensitive spots while never biting too deep. Saeran never took more than what was absolutely necessary either, even if you told him that it was okay to do it. You figured that he always remembered the time that Saeran would make you faint after taking too much blood, and that it must weigh on his consciousness heavily. Telling him to take more than the bottom-line wasn’t something you frequently told him to do though, since you already knew he was restraining himself and trying to put some boundaries in place for your own protection, so you didn’t want to push him. He cleaned the area after drinking from it and pressed a little patterned band-aid onto it and sealed it with a kiss, just for good measure. It really didn’t sit right with him that he had to hurt you like this so he tried to make amends for it wherever he could.

He always wiped his mouth before he kissed you, since he thought it would be rather cruel to make you taste the blood that you had just willingly offered up to him. You’d find the taste unpleasant anyway, even if Saeran enjoyed it. Saeran was rather poetic at the best of times, but it was especially true when he was feeling a little bit drunk off of your love (and blood). If you ever asked him what your blood tasted like, he’d write you a verbal essay on how sweet it is. It’s intoxicating to him and it always had been, even when he was both Ray and Saeran. The two of them were so confused by their sudden feelings and this undeniable pull towards you that neither could escape from. If you let him, he’ll probably even get a little bit cliché with how he feels like he’s reached some form of enlightenment by your blood being the thing that can kept him alive, along with how he can feel your love beating through his veins and giving him strength. Sometimes you can’t help but cringe at some of the things that Saeran says, but he means it in such a sweet way that you find it even more affectionate.

In times like this, Saeran was so adorable and kind-hearted. He generally felt a bit bad about himself, since he knows that he can’t ever become a human again as a result of his time in Mint Eye, so you have to make the extra effort to love him in this moment. You cupped his face with both of your hands and told him how precious he was to you and that he is, and always will be, the most important thing in your life.

Vampire! Unknown Drabble

There were no words that allowed you to accurately describe Unknown. He was exactly that. You never quite knew what he was thinking and for the most part he definitely relished in that fact. His actions were unpredictable, and he barely seemed to keep a routine for too long, lest someone figured it out and learned to predict his moves. Everyone walked on eggshells around him out of fear and uncertainty, and he seemed to enjoy it. He found it humorous, even. He enjoyed taking you by surprise in particular, it was his main form of entertainment. You were a toy for him to play with when he got bored.

He was sort of what you expected a modern-day vampire to be, look-wise and attitude-wise. His attire was certainly a change. It felt as though he was trying to actively reflect the anguish he felt within, but at the same time, it was an external threat. A threat that if you got too close to him, you’d be in danger of getting hurt yourself. The spikes were enough to ensure that, even if Unknown wasn’t. He reminded you of Saeran, but you could tell that there was a stark difference between the two of them. Unknown rarely displayed anger in the same way that Saeran did, it was certainly there, but it wasn’t as explosive. Sometimes it was cold, warped, and vindictive underneath layers of you weren’t sure what. Like Saeran, he made little attempt to hide his fangs or ears, but he didn’t necessarily show them off unless he was actively trying to taunt someone. It was more as though he didn’t care about them until they were of use to him. At which point, he’d smirk and release the sharpened canines: a spark of excitement in his eyes inviting you closer, to dare test him.

When he wanted to feed from you, he’d summon you to wherever he is rather than coming to see you himself. After all, you were a failed experiment who couldn’t even do your job of talking to the RFA correctly; being an assistant was the best job you’d be able to manage, so he told you that you ought to be grateful for it especially since Magenta wasn’t in the habit of keeping ‘useless’ things around for very long.

He was usually desperate when he called for you because of the long hours he forced his body to endure, even throughout the daytime when he’d naturally be sleeping. He entirely believed that because he’s strong, he wasn’t allowed to feel anything except for that strength, so he had to keep himself at the same standard of work every single day in order to maintain it. He’d burn the candle at both ends and then continue trying to light the wick. When you thought of him, there was always one particular instance that came to mind when he had no choice but to display an element of weakness to you, and it enraged him. He had been out on a recon mission for The Savior and had over-exerted himself in the process, sustaining an injury. He had crashed into your room afterwards, panting and holding onto his bleeding wound, drinking enough blood in one go that he’d made you  back onto your bed with light-headedness. He hadn’t done that since, and rarely pushed you past that point, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to dance with the limit of it. He’d say it was because he preferred to tease you with it, to savour what belonged to him, even though you knew it wasn’t his only reason for taking it slow.

How he bit you depended on what mood he was in, but his typical go-to is to have you sitting on his lap while he’s at his desk and facing him so that he can pull you towards him by your hips, making sure that your collarbones are already level with his mouth. He shouldn’t have to do any of the work, he wanted you already in position for him.

Unknown’s hands were roughly on your shoulders, both pulling you towards him and holding you steady. He bites first, kissed later. There’s little warning to feeling his teeth, except for the second or so beforehand where you feel his hot breath fan over you, just before you feel the sharp break of that skin underneath. Sometimes he’d hover for a few seconds longer than usual because he sought the thrill of you not knowing when the pain was coming. He has a preference for the neck and collarbones, not that he’d never explain why to you but, simply, he doesn’t think he should have to anyway. You’d have laughed at the cliché nature of it, but you’d rather he kept it to the same area instead of spreading it all over your body. That being said, he had bitten your thighs a couple of times when your neck had been a little too sore for him to drink from there, when the skin needed time to heal.

Unknown swapped between biting and kissing at your neck, making his way up towards your mouth to continue the blood-tinted kiss there. Each time you tasted the metallic tinge on your tongue, it left your breathless, but not as much as the bite he’d leave on your lower lip did. You wouldn’t admit it to Unknown, but those kisses were some of your favourites that you had shared with him.

Not only did he leave your skin with actual bites, but he made point of littering your throat with lovebites each time too. As though the real bites weren’t enough for him, Unknown always had to go one step further with his act of possession over you. It was a cocky game, in his own mind, he needed to show that you were his and that no other Believer was permitted to look at you in the same that that he did.

When he was done and needed the wipe the blood away from his face, he’d wipe it straight onto the back of his hand. He’d make no effort to properly clean it until he went to wash his hands, it didn’t seem to bother him.

 Vampire! Savior Saeran Drabble 

It’s ironic, to Saeran, that crosses and biblical imagery did nothing to inhibit a Vampire, especially considering how linked the two aesthetics were. They truly went hand in damned hand. Mint Eye had always been steeped in Catholicism, as it was the core religion of the previous Savior, but as Saeran was forced to take the throne, he had not made any changes to those principles. He had been taught to instil and swallow those same beliefs in himself as they had been handed to him, even if they were not truly his own. He had been prepared in such a way that he would be able to take over Mint Eye when he had truly reached the peak of his strength and was intended to forge a new way for the organisation.

You had been bathed, dressed, and summoned to the throne room, where many Believers and the Savior in question were already gathered. You’d heard whispers that you were going to be cleansed, but the atmosphere you found yourself in did not seem to fit the one you associated with a cleansing. However, The Savior had yet to conduct a ceremony of his own since taking the throne and you started to fear that, perhaps, you were to be the leading spectacle. You walked between the Believers, as you were told to kneel before Saeran.

He was so lifeless in comparison to the Saerans you had once encountered before him. He was so sad, empty. At the very least, Ray’s melancholy had an element of hope to it, but as The New Savior stood before you, there was little more than a shell of the man that you had come to know. Your interaction with him was limited, but it was so plainly obvious to you that he was just being used as a pawn, a pawn in disguise of the King. It seemed distinctly sacrilegious to have a vampire dressed in religious garments, but you supposed that Saeran had probably not received a choice in either of those matters.

Another Believer came up from behind you and asked for your wrist, which he then wiped over with disinfectant fluid before presenting it to The Savior. Saeran reached out his hand to grab your arm, pulling it towards him. He was silent as his teeth suddenly found their way into your wrist, but he barely took more than a small mouthful of blood. Even with your arm in his grasp, Saeran said nothing and continued to just plainly stare ahead into the masses, occasionally throwing glances in your direction.

‘Are you ready for the next initiation step?’ He asked. You could still see your blood in his mouth, the thin line of red providing a stark colour contrast to the rest of his chilly pallor.

‘Yes.’ You replied.

Once done, he turned and pushed the red Elixir bottle towards you, tilting it into your open mouth. It was lukewarm and overwhelmed all of your senses with the metallic taste of blood and chemicals. It burned. Tasting blood like this felt so wrong. You felt it fill your mouth and you forced it down your throat swallow, gasping for air as soon as it passed. Was that… his blood? In the same way that he had been given his Savior’s blood?

You were asked to stand as Saeran took another step towards you. You tried to watch his eyes, looking for any hint of the life that Ray and Saeran had once brought to them, but The Savior in front of you had clearly managed to subdue that hope. Or rather, he had been forced and conditioned to abandon it.

Almost sombrely, he pressed a small kiss against your lips; causing you to once again receive a fresh taste of blood. Except this time, it was the remnants of your own that had been left on his own tongue. There was little free affection in his kiss, and it appeared to be more about the process of the initiation rather than anything to do with kindness or tenderness. It only lasted for a second or so and was nothing intimate, ending almost as soon as it had begun. He pulled away first, placing the bottle that he had been previously holding back onto the throne room altar.

You were hugely aware of the fact that you were still being watched by an entire room of people and felt so exposed, so seen. It was uncomfortable to have to wait there for it to be over when you would have much rather have had this be a private affair: not that you had been warned in advance anyway.

He pressed his bloody lips against your forehead, leaving a red stain against your skin. Saeran then reached a cold hand towards your face, dragging his thumb across the bloody kissmark and smearing it into the shape of an eye. A baptism.

Vampire! SE Saeran Drabble

He was trying. Saeran was really trying. Being around people was difficult, well, everything was a little difficult for him. It was taking all of his energy to adjust and process things, so you rarely saw him during the day. He was always pretty low energy and spent the majority of his time asleep or alone, with you only ever really catching glimpses of him at night. You guessed that it was at least a good thing that he was catching up on the sleep that he had deprived himself of for so many years, even if it meant you rarely got to see him.

Saeran didn’t really talk to anyone anyway, only you and his brother. That is, whenever he can be bothered to talk to Saeyoung as he often complained that he’s too tired for conversation. He usually didn’t have the energy to talk to his brother that much because of how hyperactive the other was. Saeyoung understands that Saeran needs time, even if it hurt him to not be able to pull his brother close after all of those years apart. Irreparable damage had been done where they would need years to repair it. There were even a few tense moments where Saeran had thought that Saeyoung was taunting him, or not trusting him, by wearing his crucifix necklace. Of course, his brother tried to explain that that was not the case and that Saeran wasn’t affected by religious symbols anyway, but it still seemed to annoy him. Eventually, Saeyoung stopped wearing his necklace and kept it in a drawer next to his bed, feeling as though the faith he believed in was probably redundant now that he knew how it had been tainted by the people he trusted.

Saeyoung had offered to let Saeran drink his blood before, as a way of making reparations to his twin, but Saeran flat out denied it: saying it would be disgusting to drink from him. He also threw in the comment that Saeyoung’s blood would taste ‘like shit’ because of his diet anyway, which was entirely understandable. Neither of you could fault Saeran for that.

Saeran felt rather conflicted and tentative about drinking your blood, often feeling pangs of guilt for how he previously treated you as Unknown. He often waited right up until he was pretty desperate before letting on that he was in need, and you’d have to realise on your own that his tiredness was not just coming from social exhaustion. He probably wouldn’t ask, so you’d have to offer.

When it happened, it usually happened in the same way with Saeran turning you around so that your back was facing him and you couldn’t look at him. He already felt some sort of way about biting you in the first place so the last thing he wanted was to have to look into your eyes as he did it. He felt more comfortable like this, and he felt as though he could take his time rationalising it a bit more when he wasn’t being watched. ‘Don’t turn around.’ He said tiredly. He sighed, clearly feeling a little awkward but not wanting to rush into it. It would be in this moment where he thought about how roughly he used to do it to you and wonder where he had gotten that confidence from. Truly, it felt like a lifetime ago.

Saeran placed his hands onto your shoulders, pausing right above where he was going to bite for a few seconds, letting his hot breath fan over you until he finally broke the skin. He wasn’t as rough as he used to be, and it was quite obvious how much he had been restraining himself by how quickly he drank. ‘Sorry.’ He whispered under the wight of the guilt. He always sounded like he was crying when he did this, even if you didn’t see any tears fall. You placed your hand on top of his own just to let him know that it was okay. Saeran wasn’t one for words, so he appreciated the support even if he didn’t tell you that directly.

He sat behind you for a few moments while he calmed down, his thumbs ever so slightly rubbing circles into your shoulders; a rare sign of intimacy from him. He doesn’t kiss you in that moment for a number of reasons. He felt parasitic, and he didn’t want to tie that emotion to affection. And yet, undeniably because he doesn’t want you to see him for what he is. Saeran carries a lot of shame, especially when he’s feeling so vulnerable as he does when he’s in that state. He wiped the blood from his lips onto the back of his sleeve, but would change his jumper shortly afterwards because it made him feel dirty to even look at. Saeran didn’t want to sit with your blood on him, that was cruel to the both of you.

You’d often find that he’d leave you a little gift the next day but would claim to not have any knowledge of it. It was always a little thing that only he would think to bring you, such a small flower from the garden or one of his snacks out of the kitchen.

[princehrry-writings]

Moon Over The Meadow

this is my very first harry fic!!! i want to write more for them so if you would be interested in that please let me know!!

word count: 3234

warnings: mentions of death, i don't think anything else though.

It was here that Y/n learned to live off the beaten path she had always known, in the midst of the forest green that was her lover's eyes.

or

Harry is the prince and Y/n is a peasant.

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There wasn’t much to do in the light of day. Not a single shadow to hide in, every corner of the kingdom touched by a ray of sunshine. People would see them. See him. And that just wouldn’t do.

Harry couldn’t be seen by anyone, no. They would ask too many questions, alert the guards, something would go wrong. He couldn’t put her in that kind of danger. So they agreed. Tonight, when the moon peeks over the trees in the meadow, they will flee.

They will find their freedom.

Y/n had never been one to stray too far from the beaten path. Her mother would never allow her to. Is your life really worth something as silly as this, child? She would gripe, fingers bruising the plushy flesh of her upper arm. One could say she was beaten into submission, although her mother never did much in the physical realm or harming her. It was always a look, a tug, and her words. God her words cut deeper than any knife ever could, she was sure of it.

But then she met Harry. By some magical happenstance, one day tending to the gardenia bushes in the garden furthest away from the castle, she stumbled upon the prince. He rested on a bench with a journal laid upon his lap, tears lightly raining down his flushed skin, a soft frown etched across his pink lips. She quietly sat down next to him, with no intention of saying anything, just letting him know he wasn’t alone in his pain. Whatever kind it may be.

She had known of him her whole life, having worked in the palace with her mother since she was just a child, but hadn’t seen him in what felt like an eternity. She remembers afternoons drenched in a golden haze, running around these very grounds with the likes of him and whatever children were amongst the castle, until she was ripped away by her mother just the same as she always was when she strayed too far from the sidewalk. Somewhere deep in her mind, Y/n knew why her mother acted the way she did. Kept her locked away like she had done her whole life.

It was to protect her. The King could be very cruel to anything and anyone that stepped too far out of line. Her mother was terrified that one day her daughter's wild imagination and wanderlust tendencies would get her into the wrong situation at the wrong time, with the wrong people. All she wanted was to protect her precious Y/n. This was the only way she knew how.

Harry, as angelic as he had been as a child, she recalls, slowly slid closer to her, remembering the days they would sneak away and play together until his keeper would come yelling for him. Any and all communication had been hastily cut off with her as soon as his keeper realized where he was and what he was doing. Thankfully for both of the children, it was never discovered who he was with. But nonetheless, Harry was kept under tight lock and key. His keeper would lose her head if the king found out that his son was galavanting around his castle with the help.

But on this day, in the garden amongst the Gardenias, their souls re-intertwined themselves as if they were still those young little kids, playing damsel in distress in the warm afternoon sunlight, as if they had lost no time at all. The only difference now being that they talked instead of played, kissed instead of screamed, and fell into a real love instead of one carelessly crafted from a children's game.

This went on for weeks, months it seemed. Meeting under the disguise of Y/n working in the farthest garden and Harry wandering off to a quiet corner for his studies. It was here, cushioned by soft grass under their bare bodies, that Y/n learned to live off the beaten path she had always known, in the midst of the forest green that was her lover's eyes.

“Petal, we can't stay here,” He sighed one summer afternoon. A mimicked sigh fell from his Love’s lips. She knew they couldn’t. This thought had plagued her mind, keeping her from sleep most nights. In their world, the prince doesn’t get to fall in love with the peasant girl and live happily ever after. A fairytale ending had never been an option on the table.

The only way they’d get to be happy was if they fled the only life they had ever known.

“I know, H. What are we to do though? Where do we go?” It was hard to imagine being anywhere but the castle grounds. But she knew that no matter where she went, as long as Harry was with her, she would be safe.

“We can find a clearing, far away from here, deep in the woods. Somewhere they won’t ever look, and I can build us a cottage, and we can have a garden just like this one. We won’t have to worry about doing the wrong thing in the King’s eyes, or saying the wrong words. We won’t have to hide ourselves.” He said, a dreamy glaze over his eyes.

“You’ll build us a cottage? How? We won’t have anything Harry!” The girl exclaimed. Sure, she knew they had to leave, that they couldn’t stay. But the reality that they truly had nowhere to go was setting in like a thick heavy fog, distracting her from anything else.

“M’love, look at this,” He whispered, taking her hand in his. His free hand came up in front of him, palm out, facing the grass below them. A flower sprouted right before their eyes, out of nowhere. Y/n gasped. Harry had never told anyone this secret. Nobody but his mother knew, and she had passed away three years prior during childbirth complications. Now the only person that knew of his secret was his Love.

It wasn’t a surprise that the Queen had never told the King of her affliction. He would have lost his head, and in turn- she would have lost hers. So she kept it from him, and when her only child began to show the signs that he too possessed such essence, she knew she had to protect him from the likes of his father. She never loved that man, she only ever wished for him to suddenly fall ill so as to free her and her son from his fury, but alas it has been her that faced such a fate.

Harry knew what he would face if anyone other than his Love were to know. It was why he hadn’t told her until now.

“This is how I’ll build our home. You’ll not want for anything, m’love. Whatever it is you desire, just tell me and I’ll make it so,” He had dreamed since he was a child to be able to spoil the girl sitting next to him. Y/n’s effervescent eyes grew wide. She felt a new warmth spread through her at this discovery, now she knew for a fact that as long as she had him, she was safe. For he had just proved to her that he was more than capable.

“Why have you never told me? Did you thinkI would judge you?” Panic grew in the girl's chest. How could her lover think she would ever judge him.

“No, no, no Pet, I didn’t tell you for your own safety! My father is a very cruel man and he would stop at nothing to have my head if he knew about this. I couldn’t bear to live if he went after you because of me so I kept to myself.” Her eyes softened at this and the warmth grew even stronger. She truly did love this boy, he was the only one who’d ever looked at her and seen a person. Not just a peasant girl or a daughter whose only job is to cook and clean and tend to the garden. Harry saw much more for his Love. He saw greatness for her, and he would stop at nothing to give her just that.

So now here they are, standing at the edge of the trees, moon over the meadow, ready to leave behind the only thing they’d ever known. Harry could feel his Love’s pulse racing, he knew she was scared. She had assured him many times that it was only because she was afraid of what lay ahead, not because she didn’t want to go. They both knew that Harry wouldn’t let anything happen to her.

The girl had left a letter to her mother on the pillow she used to rest her head upon. Part of her felt bad for leaving the woman behind, but she had no choice. Her mother wouldn't approve of this and she certainly wouldn’t come. She would scold her daughter for running away. Your problems don’t leave just because you do, child. You must face them or they will haunt you forever. Y/n felt she wasn’t running away from her problems though, because this was the only solution. There was no way to make the King accept their love. So they could either leave or dare to sit and watch what would become of their life. Harry would end up married off or dead, Y/n would, well- she’d be dead either way. She couldn’t breathe without Harry by her side.

In the shadow of the moonlight, Harry led them through the forest. The guards had been alerted that the prince was not in his chambers so they didn’t have much time. They needed to move fast. He went where his intuition led him, moving obstacles out of the way with a small flick of his hand as they went. In the distance, he could hear the cries of men searching for him and the loud cracks of whips used to keep their horses moving.

His Love hummed a tune to distract herself from the loud noises and fear she felt heavy in her chest, Harry’s hand clutched in hers so he didn’t lose her. It was dark but they never stumbled and they never felt danger get too close. Y/n assumed Harry had something to do with that. Every so often they would pause and rest, Y/n’s head laid upon his chest, his back against a tree. His heartbeat kept her own steady as she matched her breathing to his. He had always been able to calm her down by just being near her. His presence was all she needed to feel at peace.

Harry laid his lips on the top of her head, his hand lightly stroking her hair.

“What will we do in the morning light when people can see us?” They had been traveling most of the night now, but she didn’t quite know how far they had made it. She just knew they had lost the guards. Their breaks didn’t last more than 5-10 minutes so as not to waste time, but they were traveling by foot so they couldn’t have made it too terribly far.

“We’re quite close m’love, so I assume we will be arriving just as the sun is ascending. I’ll have you rest while I place a protection barrier around the perimeter of the clearing and then I’ll get started on the cottage so you won’t need to worry about a thing.” He said, dusting his thumb across her cheekbone.

“Will people be able to see our home from outside the clearing?” She was worried about wandering strangers stumbling upon them and causing trouble. Harry beamed at the girl before him.

“I’ll make it so that people can’t find us Petal. We will be safe, I promise you.” This put his Love at ease and they got up to return to their journey when there was a rustling noise next to them. Y/n froze and slowly turned to see a bush being disturbed and clung to Harry in fear that something was about to jump and attack them. To her surprise, it was a small cat.

“What are you doing out here all by yourself little one?” Y/n sunk to her knees as the animal walked over. Harry’s heart almost burst right out of his chest at the precious sight in front of him. His Love had always had a soft spot for animals. When they were little she used to pretend she could talk to them and understand what they were saying. He used to think maybe she really could because, hey- he could make things appear out of nowhere- but it turns out she was just a very imaginative little girl. He loved her nonetheless so he would happily take care of animal communication if need be.

But just because his Love couldn’t understand what the animals were saying doesn’t mean she didn’t love to talk to them.

The little cat, who was small enough to warrant calling her a kitten, nuzzled right up the Y/n. She practically had hearts for eyes when looking at the little furball. She was a beautiful black kitten with starry blue eyes that could be seen even in the darkness, as they reflected the light of the moon.

“You are just the cutest thing I think I’ve ever seen,” she beamed, “Harry we can’t just leave her!” He knew this was coming. He also knew she’d always wanted a cat of her own but the King was allergic, so cat’s were not allowed on castle grounds. That man would have killed her and the cat.

Harry never was able to resist the puppy dog eyes his Love was so good at giving him. Not that she had to do much begging to get him to do anything. He would do whatever she wanted, because when she was happy so was he.

“What should we name her?” He asked and a smile as bright as the sun and stars combined spread across her face. He would do anything to see that smile everyday.

“We can think of names on the way! Come little one, we’re your family now!” Y/n scooped the kitten into her arms as a motor-like pur erupted from her little chest. The kitten rolled over in her arms and nuzzled against her chest, falling asleep immediately. It was like a match made in the stars.

They kept walking, Harry still waving away obstacles to keep his Love from stumbling, and eventually they arrived at a clearing, surrounded by trees at the base of a mountain with a small river flowing through and flowers blooming all around. It was a place Y/n could have only mustered up in a dream, and now she was going to live there. It was more than she could have ever wished for.

Harry led her to a soft spot in the grass and she laid down. He could tell she was about to fall asleep on her feet. As soon as she laid her head down, she was out like a light with the kitten snuggled up to her. Harry cast his hand, warming the ground to keep them comfortable and got to work casting the protection charm. He made it so that people wouldn’t be able to see them or penetrate the barrier, but animals could roam freely.

As he worked the morning sun began to peak over the trees. The whistles of the flowing river served as calming background noise and the singing birds aided the ethereal glow that was cast all around the meadow that Harry and his Love now called home. He could see them living a long beautiful life there. One free of judgment and fear.

Harry hoped to raise a family here. He wanted to raise children who knew what it was like to have their fathers unconditional love, to see what it was like for a father to love a mother, something he hadn’t been privy to growing up.

Y/n woke up to Harry whistling a tune as he went about gathering little things like flowers and twigs. A small flower had been tucked into her hair, on top of her ear, she couldn’t help but smile. As she sat up, she stretched her body, letting out little groans of relief that alerted Harry his Love had awoken.

He strolled over to her and sat down, pulling the girl into his lap. His heart swelled as she buried her face into his neck, running her hand across his chest.

With a kiss to the top of her head, he whispered, “Good morning my sweet girl.”

“Good morning my love,” She sleepily replied, voice still raspy. She still felt tired but not enough to stay asleep and the sun was now too bright for her to rest peacefully.

“I’ve finished the perimeter, I’m going to work on the cottage now. Is there a particular way you’d like it to look?” He asked, stroking her hair lightly. She hummed in contentness before giving him an answer.

“Whatever you create, I will love. As long as there is a roof over our heads to keep us safe from the rain, I will be happy!” He felt her smile against his neck. Running his fingertips along her back, he sighed in adoration of the sleepy girl in his arms. If he could spend every day like this, he would be just fine.

“Alright Petal, can you grab my hand please and focus on taking deep breaths for me.” He asked her, holding his palm out. She took it without question and cleared her head of all thoughts. Harry’s other hand dug lightly into the ground beside him. Y/n felt a small buzzing where she was connected with the boy, and she opened her eyes to see his were closed. A dim golden glow surrounded their hands, surprising her.

Harry had never cast any spells that used this much energy so he knew that he would need the help of his Love. Y/n figured it would be best if she closed her eyes again so she did and waited for Harry to let her know when he was finished. It didn’t take but a few minutes for him to stroke her hair and ask her to look up. When she did, she saw a beautiful cottage. Long vines of Ivy twisted up the beautiful white brick walls, A wrap around covered porch with flower boxes sat atop the railing, and a bay window where Y/n could picture herself reading on sunny afternoons just like this one. It was perfect.

“Harry,” She gasped. This was more than she could have ever imagined. She absolutely loved it.

“Is it ok?” He asked tentatively.

“Love, it’s more than ok! It’s amazing, it’s perfect. Thank you thank you thank you!!!” She cried, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face.

“I did good?” He smirked, rubbing her side before wrapping her tightly in his embrace.

“You did wonderful! I love it and I love you!” She gazed into his eyes before leaning up and pressing her lips to his in a kiss full of passion and gratitude.

Harry doesn’t think he could ever get tired of kissing his Love.

[thatblondeperson]

TimSteph, taking care of chronic injuries!

Hey look, another ask that got buried! Sorry friend!!!! 

This is all preboot, RR/Batgirl era.

Ok so Tim is super extra imo when it comes to treating any kind of sickness, injury, ANYTHING. He’s the type of guy who will go to CVS and buy out the entire “cold + flu” aisle as soon a Steph gets a runny nose. He absolutely drowns her in cough drops and tissues. I can see him being extremely attentive as well. Like bringing blankets and pillows around the clock, happy to carry her from point A to point B, almost insisting to do so on occasion, and just sitting with her for as long as she desires/needs company. He absolutely pays no mind to germs. Steph can cuddle all she wants.

Steph is similar but less extra. She’s got some more classic home remedies that Tim doesn’t have. She absolutely would baby the hell out of him if he got sick though, and probably more often than not she has to put her foot down on him trying to patrol even if he’s completely out of it and burning up. Tim has a hard time relaxing, but eventually the time is used for him to catch up on sleep. Tim getting sick is like a mini-hibernation. I can see Alfred stepping in occasionally if they were both sick because Tim’s an absolute mess, and Steph can only do so much before she gets wiped out. They’re hopeless and completely out of service if they’re both ill at the same time. Error 404: Dorks not found. 

Chronic injuries are a constant process. Steph obviously has a ton just from Black Mask alone. I’m sure she gets aches and pains on the regular due to the severity of the torture she experience. Power drills would leave some lasting abdominal pain for sure. Hell, I wonder if it makes cramps worse for her? It could in all honestly. She may need serious pain meds during that time of the month which are of course always kept on hand. On top of that, the physical trauma definitely left endless mental trauma. No question about it. Not to mention that time she got lightly shot in the head. I say lightly because I forgot this was a thing because they don’t really address it again. I imagine that would cause occasional headaches/migraines, and I’m sure Tim likes to run a scan every now and again to make sure there isn’t any lasting damage. And of course, we return to the medicine cabinet for more pain pills. (Thank you @incoherentbabblings for reminding me of the gunshot.)

I headcanon that both of them get nightmares on almost the regular. They’ve both got it set that if one of them is in the middle of a bad nightmare, the other just holds them close, doing whatever they can to soothe them until the calmness sets back in. The nightmares get more spaced out some time after they move in together because I think the constant safeness of having someone beside them every night would eventually help them both sleep through the night better. It is hard to get back to sleep though. Both of them have been put through the ringer, they’ve both seen death of loved ones up close and personal, and I imagine a lot of what they’ve experienced is still very vivid and intense for them.

Tim’s got his own fair share of recurring pain. The boy doesn’t have a spleen and tbh I don’t know how he’s not getting sick more frequently. But extra precautions need to be taken to keep him from getting infections when he gets any kid of open wound, thank GOD Steph is a nurse. Tim has to be kept pretty healthy though if at all possible, which brings us back to my previous headcanon about him not caring about germs when Steph is sick? Yeah, not his smartest move, but Tim’s an idiot and forgets that he’s fragile. 

Both of them have regular joint issues. They’ve dislocated enough things for just about everything to make awful clicking sounds now and again. Steph doesn’t have as much regular muscle pain, she’s far more flexible than Tim is so she stays pretty loose and limber, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have to work at it every day. Steph does yoga as a part of her routine. She gets Tim to join sometimes but he’s not very good at keeping up with it. He’s flexible too but not to her level, and he locks up easier if he’s had an especially tough night. They both try to put the time in to exercise when they can, spotting each other, keeping a routine going, because given how much they both get beaten and battered on the daily, if they don’t keep up with muscle pain, it’ll just get worse. On bad days when the pain makes any mobility difficult, massages ensue. They’ve got at least 15 ice packs in the freezer at all times, and a stack of heating pads in the medicine cabinet. And if all else fails, a nice hot bubble bath never hurts. With Epsom salts and everything. Steph likes to add a touch of lavender oil.

Immediate injuries they’re both very good at treating. Steph obviously has more technical knowhow, and she is the most medically trained of all the Batfam members, but Tim is detail oriented and good at focusing when he needs to so he can keep up just fine. They’re both good at stitches and general wound treatment, but Steph is better at consistent treatment. Tim will absolutely forget to switch out his bandages or clean things because his brain is soup and he cannot be bothered to think about injuries when he’s too busy with 50 other things on the constant. He needs to slow down. We get right back into “more prone to infections” again. Alas. Idiot. 

They both have their fair share of mental health issues, though Tim’s tend to be more intense. Steph has her ways of managing her own mental state but Tim gets stuck often. He falls into some pretty deep depression spells, and his anxiety acts up fairly frequently. Steph has started teaching him how to meditate, but also has a list of distractions and special remedies that she can utilize if need be. Movies and tea are a good base line, though Tim’s mind gets very far away sometimes and it’s hard to pull him back out. Like he almost wants to wallow in his sadness. Often she just tries to ground him as best she can so he doesn’t get so lost that he can’t come back. Steph likes to make sure that he isn’t always using patrol as a crutch for when he’s feeling upset or tense. It’s hard to sway him away from more pain when he lets himself get so close to the edge. It breaks her heart, sometimes she feels helpless.

Steph has anxiety as well, and some psychosomatic tics from her past abuse. She needs a lot of reassurance and gentleness when her mind starts racing. She’s still prone to trust issues, even now when she’s surrounded herself with stable people. She’s been let down and she fears losing her steady ground sometimes. Tim, let’s face it, hasn’t been the most reliable in the past, but I firmly believe that with some growing up he’d step up to the plate and try to be a solid home base for her to the best of his abilities. He’s not going anywhere anytime soon. He’s very good at being gentle. That’s canon as fuck. I will die on the hill that Tim is as delicate with Steph as one would be with a priceless porcelain heirloom. Fight me, the boy would never intentionally try to physically or mentally hurt her. He tries so hard to reassure her but I thinks he feels a little helpless sometimes too. Some of her trust issues are his fault, and he can’t just snap his fingers and reverse his mistakes. He tries his best, but there will always be scars. 

All in all, I think they’re both very tender and caring with one another. They’re both beyond broken sometimes, and they are a mess and a half. But they know each other, they know each others pain and sadness and I think once they got back together they’d settle very easily into a care routine. Both of them are carrying the weight of countless consequences and mistakes and hardship on their shoulders. Pain is just a side affect that comes with carrying so much baggage, but it’s a little easier to manage when they have each other for support. I do think some of it would get easier over time, and my wish for them is that they can move somewhere just outside the city, maybe by a lake. Far enough away that things are quiet, but not so far that they would completely leave the hero gig behind. I agree with the consensus that neither of them could fully quit. Tim would just sink into the background, but Steph would be out there in the field for many years. Justas long as they have somewhere safe and comfortable to return to, I think they’ll both be just fine. Plus smooches are the best fallback medicine for all ailments and we all know that they never run out of those. 😘💋

THANK YOU FOR THIS ASK! More than half of this was not anything to do with chronic injuries but fuck it. We’ve tapped into the hurt/comfort section of my brain and there is a lot of material there to work with. Idk when you sent this in but I hope it wasn’t too long ago. I hope this answered more questions than you ever intended to ask. 💜❤

[lucian-ffxiv]

Trachyngeim Aerstwyda

thanks for the template @lizzy-frizzle​

Name:  Trachyngeim Aerstwyda

Gender:  Female

Age: 19 at the start of ARR

Race:  Roegadyn

Relationship: Single

Family: Pfardaeg (father), Thubyrthota (mother), Blauswys (sister)

Orientation: Bisexual

Nameday:  11th sun of the 1st umbral moon

Abilities/Talents:  The tallest person she knows (max height Roegadyn, after all), she can reach up to the top shelf like no problem. She’s not very good at most crafts, but is very adept at gathering. does giving me gender feels count as a talent

Job:  Dark Knight; also Monk, Gunbreaker. She’s dabbled a lot, though, in things like black magic, red magic, and the art of the dancer.

Appearance description: 7′6″ tall, with short red hair. Toned muscles, though she’s not as muscular as her strength would suggest.

Unique features (scars, tattoos, etc.): Red facial tattoos, symmetrical on both sides of her face.

Personal Beliefs (religious or otherwise): She used to think of the stories of the primals as nothing more than stories - boogeymen that kept children up at night. Her mother told her of Leviathan, while neglecting to tell her of the primal’s hand in the death of her parents. Needless to say, slaying the boogeyman has led Trachyngeim to have her personal beliefs thrown into turmoil, and they’ve been there for a while.

Residence:  Ul’dah is essentially her home. It was where she got her start as an adventurer, and despite her personal connections to Ishgard and Ala Mhigo, Ul’dah shall be where she considers home.

Birth place: On a boat to Limsa Lominsa, as her parents and elder sister made the journey.

Dreams: To repay the kindness of others that for so many years of her life she felt undeserving.

Fears: While not afraid of self-sacrifice per se, she is afraid of what would happen to those she cares about should she become unable to aid them any more. After all, if word got out that the Warrior of Light was all washed up, or dead, some of her past enemies would surely not hesitate to exact their revenge.

Introverted / Extroverted / Ambiverted  (bold what applies)

How do they handle stress?: At first, she would just go to the Pugilist’s guild in Ul’dah to see if anyone wanted a spar. Now that she’s famous, though, that’s not really an option anymore. So now, she’s tried to transition to less violent methods of stress relief. Really, though, she just wants someone she could spar with like the good old days.

What’s the state of their living quarters? (messy, clean, etc.): Clean. Cleaning helps distract her from how she feels sometimes.

How do they handle meeting new people?: Used to be that she’d meet a new person every once in a while, but now her... duties as international hero and savior ensure she is inundated with new faces. It can get a bit overwhelming sometimes.

When facing certain doom, what’s their outlook?: “Just a little bit further.”

What do they do to relax?: There’s a spot in the Coerthas mountains that is hard to reach. She uses a mount to fly up there and watch out over the snow.

What’s their favourite outfit?: Currently, a rather comfortable bit of formalwear she picked up in Kugane.

Traumas/Personality quirks: She can go from laughing with friends to being deadly serious in a matter of seconds. She’s trying to get better at managing these shifts in tone.

About Them as of Current story patch: N/A (not there yet lol - in the patch content quests of Stormblood rn)

History:  She never actually met her father, growing up. That also meant, though, that she never really had a last name, per se. This led to a fair bit of teasing from other Roe she grew up near. She took the name Aerstwyda, First Willow, in an attempt to assert herself as the beginning of something new, but this only led to further teasing. At one point when she was a teenager, several of her peers even conspired to lure her into the ocean and push her in - only to be rescued by a wandering Dark Knight who happened to be passing that way from Ishgard. It was they who first noticed the power of Trachyngeim’s dark side, though they were not wont to teach her such things at her age. It was this incident, though, that finally made her realize that she wasn’t undeserving of kindness, and that there were a great many debts that needed to be repaid. At that point, she decided to learn to fight, and utilized her impressive strength in becoming a skilled hand-to-hand fighter at a young age. Eventually she struck out on her own towards Ul’dah, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Feelings towards others: (add or remove as relevant)

- Yshtola –  She’s got a bit of a crush on Y’shtola, though she’s not good enough with her feelings to admit it. She’s come close a few times, but running in a sewer from people wont to kill you isn’t the best time for it.

- Alphinaud –  She’s friends with Alphinaud, but in that true best friend way where she loves to tease him about all the little things and laughs along with Krile, or Alisaie, or whoever else might be teasing him at the moment.

- Alisaie –  Definite friends here, if for no other reason than their shared past-time of poking fun at Alphinaud.

- Thancred –  He rubbed her the wrong way when they first met, this “handsome stranger”, but eventually grew on her. She felt really bad for not noticing how hard he was pushing himself until it was too late.

- Urianger –  She can never tell what he’s really thinking, and it concerns her.

- Tataru –  Would protect with her life.

- Papalymo - :(

- Minfillia -  :(

- Ser Aymeric - She fell for him, hard. She wouldn’t even think about saying anything - it would be quite a conflict of interest. But she’s sure she’s seen him do things to imply he feels the same way, so maybe, once everything’s over...

- Cid –  He’s like the cool grandpa of the group. She can’t wait to see what new amazing machine he and the Ironworks create next.

- Zenos –  Terrible human being. Killing him felt good.

- Gaius –  Killing him, on the other hand, felt hollow. He himself didn’t put up much of a fight - it was mostly the Ultima Weapon. She didn’t even really land a killing blow.

- Nero –  Why can’t this guy stay gone?

- G’raha –  She respects his sacrifice.

- Ascians - She wants to personally kill every ascian alive.

- Lyse - She laughed when Lyse challenged her to the fight on the Destroyer’s palm, but she put up a good fight. It was her first real chance to spar with someone else in a long time.

- The Grand Company Leaders -  Kan-E-Senna always calms her to be around. Merlwyb is someone she respects for her directness, at the very least. Being an Immortal Flame herself, it’s always surreal to have Raubahn treat her as more than just another officer.

- Magnai - She didn’t like him. While she isn’t one to scoff at religion, she does feel that the belief that every man has a woman especially made for him to be laughable.

- Sadu - Definitely someone to never cross. There was that time during the contest, but that was in the spirit of competition. As a fellow wielder of explosive magic on occasion, she knows how bad of an idea it would be to make her angry.

- Cirina - Could become a fearsome warrior one day, if given the proper training. She’d be glad to help train her, too.

- Yugiri - Perpetually impressed by what Yugiri can do with the ways of the shinobi. Beyond that, though, she trusts Yugiri to keep secrets more than some of the other characters.

- Gosetsu - Similar to Thancred, Gosetsu went from grating to endearing in her mind. She was very conflicted when he reappeared after the castle, though.

- Fordola - She knows what it feels like to be teased for something that was of no fault of her own. She wants to feel bad for Fordola, she does, but there’s always the legions of people hurt by her hand.

- Yotsuyu - She also feels bad for Yotsuyu, but not so bad that she won’t mind fighting her.

- Asahi - She would kill Asshat if she got the chance.

- Other Warrior of Lights -  She’s more than happy to step back into the shadows and let others have their time to shine.

[novannna]

Write Our Story in the Stars

so for school we did nanowrimo and i actually like the story I wrote so i’m posting it to tumblr :)  

This story is about a girl and a princess who grow up together, closer than sisters.  The girl wants only to be the princess’s guard so they can stay together forever.  When she gets a chance to prove herself worthy to be the princess’s sole protector, she jumps on the oppurtunity.  She and the princess leave on a journey to find a stolen treasure.  While on the journey, the girl finds out a dark secret about her past….(cliche, ik)

link to chapter 1  here :) 

Chapter 2

Wc: 2601  Tw: death, suicide, blood

And so the two girls prepared for their journey. Bags were packed and horses were readied. Goodbyes were said, and tears fell. The princess’s dad was against the whole ordeal from the start. He had never approved of the girl. She never rubbed him quite right. But, nevertheless, he realized that they could not change their daughter's mind, so with a heavy heart, he allowed her to travel away. The captain of the guard found a replacement for while he was away, and the girl found another maid who would replace her. No matter what, it would be a permanent position for the new girl.

The girl and princess were so wrapped up in preparations, they barely had time for each other. But still, in the late hours of the night, they would talk. And the girl ignored the dark feeling in her stomach, the one that rose when she was reminded of how much the princess had done for her. Every single reminder was like a knife in the heart. All the girl wanted was to be recognized for something other than the princess. To be someone. Not the princess’s servant, but an actual person who was deserving of respect and admiration. But alas, that never came. No matter how hard the girl worked, it never came.

Soon the day of departure came. It was a small affair- so naturally, the entire kingdom came to see their beloved princess off. Once again, the girl stood to the side, a forced smile on her face, and a far off look in her eyes. The king hugged his daughter, and wished her well. The captain barked orders to his men, and was rewarded with a tight hug and handshake from his temporary replacement. And the girl? She watched it all from atop her horse, no one saying goodbye to her.

And so the journey started. It had its ups and downs. Plenty of mishaps and dangerous situations. The princess was having the time of her life, the girl waiting just around the corner, ready for anything. The princess had never seen anything like the outside world, and she was curious about everything. That led to many problems the girl ended up solving. And more salt was rubbed into her age old wound as the princess was showered in love and respect. And the girl got the leftovers. Again and again and again. No matter how many monsters she slew, the princess got the credit.

Chapter 2

After about three weeks on the road, when they were only a few days away from their destination, Mallory woke in the middle of the night. A strange blue-tinged fog had crept into their campsite, and lay as a thick carpet. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and she rose warily, reaching beside her bedroll to grab her sword. It had come in handy multiple times during the trip, and Mallory was accustomed to its familiar weight at her hip.

Talia slept peacefully, her long hair obscuring her face. The subtle rise and fall of her chest was a familiar comfort to Mallory.

No matter how angry Mallory got, she could never hate Talia. There were moments where Mallory questioned everything, but she never questioned Talia. Talia was her friend, and she never understood why Mallory was hurt by things she did. She was honestly trying to help her. Mallory shook herself, and turned back towards the fog.

It felt heavy, thick. But nothing else seemed amiss. So what had woken Mallory?

She paced to the edge of the site, where the light of the fire barely reached. Nothing seemed off. She turned to leave, then spotted something gleaming in the weak light. She bent to pick it up. Mallory let out a short abrupt laugh. It was a bucket. Rusted and broken, it was almost unrecognizable, but a bucket nonetheless. She peered through the thick foliage and made out the shape of a small structure. It must be a well. It would explain the bucket's presence. Maybe there was a cottage around there they could ask for supplies at. They were running low.

Mallory pulled out her sword, and sliced through the underbrush. When she emerged from the plants, into a small clearing, she was covered in small scrapes and scratches.

Wincing, she pulled a few twigs out of her hair. She straightened and looked at the well. It was nearly collapsed. The roof was rotten and caved in, and the stones had started to tumble down. No one had used it in a long time. She spotted a small stone path that led away from the well.

Now Mallory was curious. She glanced back at her sleeping friends one more time, then hurried off.

The path led to a small meadow with a burbling creek, surrounded by tall trees. A cottage lay next to the creek. Part of the roof had fallen, and plants had grown all around. No one had lived there for a very long time.

Something about it seemed… familiar to Mallory.

She approached it, and slowly pushed the door open. It squealed deafeningly loud, and a flurry of motion came from the roof. Several winged creatures burst out the window, startled by her unexpected visit. The fog lay thick here too, obscuring the ground beneath her feet. She turned around, examining the house. She trailed a finger across the wall as she walked around, and when she moved away, her finger was covered in a thick layer of dust.

Mallory laughed. Something about the place felt so wonderful. She felt at home. She wondered what had happened to its previous inhabitants.

Something caught her eye. A wooden cradle, tipped over, a faded blue blanket spilling out. Mallory jogged over and righted it.

“There,” she said with a smile. Then she noticed an odd marking on the top of the cradle. She rubbed the dust away with her sleeve, then stared in shock at the letters carved into the soft wood.

M-A-L-L-O-R-Y

“Mallory,” she whispered to herself. “No this has to be a coincidence.”

But it didn’t feel like one. She didn’t know anything about her parents. Just that they were dead. It was possible that this had been their house. But, how likely? No, it must have been a coincidence.

Mallory was distracted by the possibilities, and she did not notice when the blue tinged fog began to flood the room. By the time she realized, it had come to her waist and was quickly rising. SHe tried to race towards the door, but it slammed shut. No matter how hard she pulled, it would not budge. The fog started to fill faster. It swirled around the room, rising all the way to the top. It swirled around wildly, and then vanished. Mallory fell to her knees in shock.

The cottage was different now. It was the same cottage, but in perfect condition. The roof was intact, and a bed was made with a colorful quilt. Mallory noticed the cradle was upright and gleaming, and she rushed over to it. A baby lay sleeping. A soft blue blanket covering it. A small tuft of black hair sprouted from her head.

Mallory reached down to gently stroke her head, but her hand passed right through, almost like a ghost.

The door banged open, and the baby’s eyes opened. She began to bawl.

Mallory ignored her and watched the two forms staggering through the doorway.

“We did it,” the man breathed out.

The woman only nodded. “They’ll kill us.”

“We did the right thing.”

Mallory stared at them in shock. They looked almost exactly like her. The woman had wavy black hair that bounced around her shoulders. The man had her nose and soft brown eyes.

There was no mistake now. These were her parents. This was her home. And she had the distinct impression she was about to watch them die.

“Shh,” the woman whispered to the baby. She walked over and picked her up, cradling her to her chest. Not the baby. That was Mallory. “Mommy’s here. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“Bri, they’ll come soon. We have to hide,” the man said urgently. He tugged on her sleeve. 

“No,” she murmured. “I won’t hide in my own home. Let them come.”

“Who are you hiding from?” Mallory asked desperately. “What did you do?” No one answered.

“Is this what you want for Mallory?” Her father asked. “They could kill her.”

“Paul, they’ll come for us wherever we go. I’d rather her not live a life in fear, always looking over her shoulder. They won’t kill a baby. They’ll give her to some family to raise as their own.”

“But she won’t know her parents.”

“No. She won’t,” Mallory's mom whispered sadly. “This is our only option.”

The sound of horses came from outside. The couple looked to each other, fear shining bright in their eyes.

“I love you Mallory,” her mom whispered to her, then tucked the child back into her cradle.

Mallory’s parents knelt down and held their hands together tight.

The door flew open. And soldiers marched in.

“Where is it?” A man screamed. “Where did you hide it?”

Her father smiled tiredly. “It’s gone.”

“Stop these games! Tell us where it is, and we’ll spare your life!”

Mallory realized with a violent jerk who these men wore. They were wearing a familiar black uniform. These soldiers were from Asnon.

Another man entered the room. He carried an aura of power. The soldiers dropped into a bow, and Mallory realized who it was. This was Talia’s father, the king.

“What did you do?” Mallory begged. No one could hear her. She fell to her knees. “Please, what happened?” Tears dripped down her face, and onto the hard floor. They passed right through the solid wood.

“We’ll leave you in peace if you tell us where it is. Just tell us where you put the Jewel of Asno, and we’ll leave you in peace.”

“The jewel of Asno…” Mallory whispered. “That's what I’m retrieving!”

“It’s hidden,” her mom spat out. “You’ll never find it.”

“Brianna, be careful,” Her father whispered.

“If you want to kill us, kill us. You’ll never find where it is.”

“We don’t want to kill you.” The king knelt down next to her. “We need the weapon. It protects our country.”

“Well we need protection. And you refused it to us. We came seeking asylum, and you turned us away because we were from Monopya. Your rival country. We had to steal it. It was the only way we could stay alive,” her mom retorted.

“Take them back,” the king said. “We do not tolerate thiefs.”

“Yes sir!” a young guard said. It was a young man, the current captain.

“And search the building. Look everywhere. We need the jewel back. In the wrong hands, it could be disastrous.”

He started to walk away, but a guard called out. “Sir? There’s a child.”

Her mom spun around in panic. “Leave her alone!” she screamed,as the guard picked her up.

She broke free of the guards grip and raced toward the child. She did not make it.

One of the guards, inexperienced and afraid had assumed she was attacking and sliced his sword through the air. It cut a deep gash across her throat, and she tumbled forwards, knocking the cradle down to its side, and letting the blue blanket spill out.

Her dad screamed as the light in her eyes died. “You killed her! You killed her!” He tried to run, but could not escape the grip of the guard. He tried to jerk free, but couldn’t. He sagged down, and looked at his wife’s dead form.

“I- I’m sorry sir. I-I thought she was attacking you…” the soldier stammered.

“You killed my mother, you bastard!” Mallory screamed. She unsheathed her sword and brought it down onto him, with as much for as she could muster. He burst apart into wisps of fog, but no one noticed anything.

“It’s alright,” the King said to empty air. “You were not at fault.”

“My Brianna,” her father sobbed. “You killed her.” He reached up to the guard, and slid his dagger out of its sheath, without anyone noticing. No one except Mallory. She cried out, but no one would here.

Her father took one last look at his wife’s dead body, then raised the dagger high. “Now you’ll never find the jewel.” He buried the dagger into his stomach with a pained gasp. He slumped forward, blood pooling out from him rapidly.

Mallory screamed, and rushed to him. She knelt near his face, and placed her airy hand on his face. He met her eyes, and mouthed “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, no, no, no!” Mallory screamed. She collapsed to the floor sobbing.

“Damnit!” the king screamed. “They were the only ones who knew.”

Mallory stared in horror. Two people had just died because of him. Died unnecessarily. And he still only cared about the jewel.

“What about the child?” the captain asked. “We can’t leave it here.”

“I suppose we have to take it with us.” his lip curled. “Does it have a name?”

“The cradle said Mallory,”  the younger captain replied.

“We’ll find some family to take care of it.”

“And the parents?”

“Bury them out back. No one will ever know we did this. And no one will miss them.” He marched out the door. “Let’s go!”

The young captain  took one last look at the dead forms, then hurried out after the king.

Mallory stood shakily, and watched as two soldiers dragged her parents out and dumped them unceremoniously on the ground. They dug a small hole, and shoved the bodies in, and covered them back up. They didn’t even bother to mark the graves. Mallory stood there for a while as the sounds of soldiers and horses faded away. The blueish fog flooded back in, and Mallory still stood motionless. It swirled around her, and when it disappeared, she was back to her own time.

Mallory fell to her knees, two lines of tears cutting down her face. She was in the same spot she had been in when the fog had flooded in.

She shook as she cried, tears sinking into the rotten floor. She could make out the outline of bloodstains, where her mother and father had died for nothing.

And she realized something. This was all the king’s fault. He had killed them. He had not let them into his country. He let them die. He had sent Mallory to grow up in an abusive home. He had done all of this, and he still wanted to get the jewel back.

And Mallory was not going to stand for that.

---

Mallory plucked a small bouquet of flowers, and left them in between two barely noticeable mounds of earth. She sniffled, and wiped her eyes. She never met her parents, but watching them die hurt more than anything she had ever felt. And she was the last person left to remember them. ‘

She was all that was left of her family. When she was younger, she harbored secret fantasies that one day her parents would come, and they would take her far far away, and they could be a family together. And she had always had a small hope that they were still out there searching for her.

And now? Now they were dead at the hands of her king. But he was not her king anymore. And she was going to avenge them.

[mikrowrites]

Boats, Best Friends, and Burgers

Shawn Mendes x Reader

A girl with walls up against boys meets a boy at a party who whisks her into his world. Maybe love isn’t a distraction after all.

Y/N never considered herself naive nor trusting. She prided herself on how she kept to herself and protected her heart, unlike her college roommate or her friends who would throw themselves at boys when they do much as smiled or grasped their hand. No, Y/N would not destroy herself like that.

She had college, a tiring feat that would absolutely be even more deteriorated with the addition of a boyfriend, and Y/N liked being by herself, it gave her a peace and quiet without obligations. Y/N did not need the distraction of a relationship at all.

But that damn boat party changed everything.

“Y/N!” Connor shouted through the kitchen, his voice laced with despiration and a hint of whining. “You can’t just rot away in your apartment forever!”

“Mmm, I can and will.” Y/N lashed back, taking another drink from her bottle of Gatorade. She and Connor had been friends since Pre-K, the boy seemingly insisting on filling some big brother role (ironic, since Y/N was two months older than him). “You know I don’t do parties.”

Connor scoffed, shaking his head. “It wouldn’t kill you to do one! I’m only back in LA for a week before tour starts again, I want to spend time with my best friend.”

“You can. With pizza. And a movie. On the couch. Not on some boat out on the bay with hormone-ridden girls and boys reeking of testosterone.” Y/N reasoned, Connor grasping Y/N’s arms.

“Please. Just this one party. We go for an hour, and if you want to leave we’ll leave.” He begged.

Y/N let out a flamboyant groan, pouting her lips. “Fine! Fine. One hour.”

Connor let out a whoop, throwing his fists in the air. Y/N shook her head, hoping she’d suddenly contract a case of tuberculosis or the bubonic plague, both of which, in her opinion, would be a far more pleasant ordeal than that party.

Hours later Connor dragged Y/N onto the boat, the loud music and squealing of drunken girls flooding her senses. She turned to Connor about to beg if they could leave, but he gave her a rather pointed look, silencing that suggestion.

Y/N was definitely not dressed for the occasion. Boys dressed in the ugliest Hawaiian shirts and swim trunks, girls in tiny skirts and booty shorts with crop tops or bikinis. Y/N merely wore a pair of bermuda shorts and a John Mayer concert shirt from the summer.

Y/N slowly pushed through the crowd with her extroverted best friend, Connor shouting out and walking over to some friends. Y/N looked around, the ideas of Jell-O shots and grinding circles quickly becoming rather unappealing to her.

She soon caught sight of paradise! Alas! A island amongst the turbulent throng of sexual desires and rising blood sugar. An empty corner, back at the end of the boat. Y/N made a beeline there, humming with satisfaction as she was separated from the rioting mess.

Y/N leaned her elbows on the railing and looked out at the pinkish sunset over the city, closing her eyes and inhaling the salty breeze.

“Oh, shit.”

Her eyes snapped open and Y/N turned, seeing a tall curly haired boy standing a few feet from her. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see this corner was taken.”

Y/N nodded. “Yup. I’ve been here fifteen minutes and I’m pretty sure by the twenty mark I might start twerking or doing body shots off the lifeguard.”

The boy laughed, his fingers figeting nervously. “Not if I beat you to suddenly ripping my shirt off and seducing five girls at once.”

It was Y/N’s turn to laugh, her mind sending off sirens and screaming RUN AWAY! but she just couldn’t.

“I’d rather jump first.” She sighed.

“Oh God, me too. I’m so sick of these people.” He gasped out, leaning on the railing next to her. “One more girl pulls at my hair again and I’m going to have a mental breakdown buzz cut.”

Y/N smiled, holding out her hand. “Y/N.”

“Shawn.” He grinned, encasing Y/N’s hand in his giant one, shaking it firmly. “Nice to have someone who has a BAC of 0.0.”

“Maybe not. Perhaps they sweat it all off and it fumes. Maybe it’s like a second hand high, we’re just second hand drunk.” Y/N mused.

“Maybe.” Shawn agreed. “How’d you even get here? If you mind me asking, since you obviously don’t want to be here.”

Y/N let out a scoff of laughter. “My idiot best friend. He dragged me here out of guilt. He travels a lot, we don’t see each other much. You?”

“Friend as well. I’m traveling a lot too, said we needed to “wind down” I guess. Fucking Brashier...” Shawn muttered.

Y/N turned to Shawn, raising her eyebrows. “Brashier? Did you say Brashier?”

“Yeah. Why?” Shawn questioned.

“Oh my gosh...” Y/N laughed. “Connor dragged you here too.”

Shawn stared at her in confusion for a moment before bursting into laughter. “No way! You’re THE Y/N! Connor talks about you all the time!”

“Only good things I suppose.” Y/N responded.

Shawn shrugged, Y/N laughing and slapping him lightly on the arm. “That must make you Shawn Mendes, international pop superstar. Very impressive.”

He smiled, leaning back against the railing. “I guess I am. And you’re the Y/N who fell of a two story roof.”

“He did not—I gonna kill him!” Y/N gasped, the two laughing.

The night drifted on, the sky dark and glistening with stars as the two talked for hours. Y/N remembered clearly writing her number on his wrist before Connor took her home, herself wanting to slap the smug grin off the boy’s face.

Texts with Shawn became phone calls and FaceTimes, and soon dates. Y/N was tripping and falling so fucking deep for him. They stayed in contact during his European tour, him practically begging her to come with him on his North American tour. “You’re my anchor!” He exclaimed over the phone, Y/N blushing insanely. “You keep me grounded.”

So the playful shoves became the interlacing of hands, the smack talk over games of Mariokart became sweet pecks on cheeks. Y/N took a gap year off to follow him across the continent, because if he had breaken down the walls she spent so long building he was worth it.

The North American tour had wrapped up after many months, Y/N and Shawn enjoying lunch together before he had to leave for Asia. They devoured their burgers, laughing and talking while they basked in the time they had left.

Y/N had just finished her pickle-ketchup-cheddar burger when Shawn smiled up at her.

“Y/N L/N, I think I’m in love with you.”

Y/N looked up in surprise, Shawn leaning over the table with a smile. “Y/N, I know I am in love with you. And I need you to know it.”

She felt her heart race, a grin gracing her features. “Shawn Mendes, you somehow got me to love you too. No other man can boast as much.”

He smiled so bright grasping her hand as he leaned over the table, running his fingers through her hair as he connected his lips with hers.

Y/N deepened into the kiss, wanting nothing more but to melt into him and never end the sweet euphoria clouding her brain.

But, with the disdain of suffocation, they pulled away gasping for air. Y/N leaned her forehead against his.

Shawn laughed. “Boats, best friends, and burgers.”

“Best way into a girl’s heart.” Y/N whispered, grinning before grabbing either side of his face and crashing her lips against his again.

[namjuicyy]

Forbidden - Chapter Six

Masterlist | Requests are open.

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst.

Word Count: 2.7k.

Summary: Prince Hoseok had never been told “no” until his father lay on his deathbed. Hoseok was ordered to marry, but his eyes were set on the one woman he wasn’t allowed to have.

WARNINGS: Implied smut; conspiracies; talk of death; mentions of violent sex; mentions of attempted suicide; domestic violence; general violence against women and female prisoners; character death; trauma.

If you are triggered by any of the warnings given, please DO NOT read this chapter. Your emotional and mental well-being is more important than a story. If you feel yourself slipping and need to reach out to someone, my DMs are always open. Please come and talk to me. It can help.

Previous / Next

Hoseok found his way into your bed that night but this time he asked your permission before he used you to take his stress away. Of course, you granted him the permission he needed and ended up breathless for the majority of the night, your insides sore from all the pounding your lover had done. However, this was a good sore - a sensitive sore because despite his need to de-stress, he still thought of you and your pleasure. You couldn't count how many times he made you cum that night and you were too exhausted by the end of it to even try and count. Instead, you lay on his chest and listened to his heart beating rapidly under its sweaty shell.

"I fear I am addicted to you." Hoseok confessed in the darkness. His voice was tinged with sadness.

"Tell me of your troubles, my love." You requested.

Hoseok sighed. "My brother knows about us."

"What?"

"He promised me he would keep it a secret and my brother is good with his word. No one shall discover us from his lips. Though his silence comes with a price."

"It usually does. What do we need to pay him?"

"You need not do anything, my queen - but once you leave I am to forget your existence and pretend I do not love you. I must be a good husband to Jieun."

"I should be a better wife to Taeoh."

"Nonsense. He does not treat you as you deserve."

"So, you expect Jieun to be unfaithful?"

"I encourage it. I am an awful husband to her and I cannot expect or believe that she would remain faithful to me when she could be happier with someone else."

"I wish Taeoh had your beliefs."

"I do too. Then I could keep loving you the way I want."

"If Taeoh shared your thoughts, how do you think our lives would be different?"

Hoseok thought for a moment. "There would be much back and forth between the kingdoms and it would still be done privately, but I would be waking up in your arms as often as I am able. I would not have to wait for special occasions or invitations to hold you. I would take you away to summer homes and winter palaces and we would start our own lives away from the rest of them. Jimin and Taeoh can run our kingdoms without us. We would have many children, but that would be connected to my staying deep inside of you for all of our waking hours." Hoseok paused. "If I knew that you were free - or at least felt free enough - I would whisk you away from here. We would live as paupers in the forest or in a neighbouring kingdom and never see any of these people again."

You sat up slightly and looked at him with sadness and love in your eyes. "Taeoh is the only reason I am trapped."

Hoseok cupped your cheek and a mischievous grin appeared on his face. "The only solution is to kill him."

"Hoseok!"

"What? I know of someone who can provide us with poison. Just add it to his tea and he would die. You would be free. Though, they may suspect you or one of his lovers."

You were quiet. "Not unless I add it gradually. He would get sicker and sicker until he eventually stopped breathing."

"When did the jesting end?"

"I do not think I ever considered this to be a fool's conversation. How soon can you have the poison ready?"

"Before you leave. No one would know."

"We should do this."

"My love, are you sure?"

"I have never been more so. I never wanted this life. I never wanted to be the queen of a kingdom, to be sold to another man by my own father for money. Taeoh is a horrid husband and I cannot be happy with him. As long as I can bring Eunjae with us, I do not care about anything else. She is the only family I truly have now."

"Eunjae is always welcome."

"Then it is settled. Taeoh is to die."

Many nights throughout your marriage you had thought about the death of your husband. Unbeknownst to anyone, you had even snuck into his chambers a few times after he had left you torn in two, holding the first heavy or murderous object you could find and held it above his head in the dark. You had been so close to ending it; to finishing his life and ending your troubles as they lay sleeping in the bed but it was too obvious. Everyone would know it was you. Not that you cared sometimes. On your darkest of nights, you too wished for your death and thought the death of your husband would trigger it as all of your attempts to end your life had been futile; and so you woke up morning after morning forcing yourself to live a life that kept you caged and miserable.

You know Hoseok was joking about your husband's death, but little did he know this was the perfect solution to your troubles. This was a genuine way out for you. The throne, as you had no children with Taeoh, would be passed to his nephew, Kihyun. Kihyun already had a wife and children, so you would be free to live out your days alone, rich, and with the one man you adored. Hoseok had mentioned in previous conversations that he couldn't abdicate without ascending the throne first, which meant he would have to stay in his kingdom until the death of his father - but once he was able he would pass down the throne to Jimin. There was no doubt in either of your minds that Jimin would take a wife soon, and she would fall pregnant with the next heir to the throne. The two of you would be able to live out your lives in blissful exile; doing as you pleased, saying what you wished, and living a life you had both chosen for yourselves.

All of your belongings had been packed in suitcases and brought to the copious amounts of carriages accompanying you and your servants to and from Hoseok's kingdom. Your time in his palace had come to an end, and all too soon you were whisked from your chambers and slotted at Taeoh's side, bidding farewell to the King and Queen and thanking them for their kind hospitality. Of course, no one but Eunjae and Jimin knew about your relationship with Hoseok, so he had to be as professional to you as he possibly could. So, his goodbye to you wasn't with a long, romantic kiss. Just a simple, polite kiss to the hand. He held your hand, kissed it and walked away from you, leaving you holding something else. A small vial of clear liquid and a note folded into tiny squares. The poison. Suddenly, your heart began to race. You couldn't believe you were going through with this.

The ride back to your kingdom was long and tiresome, especially as Taeoh had decided he wanted to tell you of all of the things he hated during your stay. He complained about Hoseok's parents and brother, and even about Hoseok himself. He complained about the staff and how incompotent they seemed to be. He complained of the food - the party. The only thing he didn't complain about was the Princess Jieun. To his own wife he mentioned how he would like to take the Princess's innocence for himself and keep her locked away where no other man could find her and have her. Alas, he was stuck with you. His wife who never made any noise when he fucked her or seemed to show him any affection.

As soon as you arrived at your palace, he dragged you up the stairs and into his chambers. He bent you over his bed, tore your dress off you leaving you naked and vulnerable and rutted inside you. All throughout his torture, he mentioned Jieun. How he wanted to fuck her and everything he would do to her and how she was better than you. Though this angered you, a simple thought of Hoseok had you gushing around your husband. You didn't cum. His disgusting cock could never make you cum; but he did. Inside of you, of course, hoping you'd be with child soon. Before he had the chance to send you away, you left of your own accord, strolling out of his room naked as the day you were born with your head held high and your ruined dress in your hand. His days were numbered, you reminded yourself.

Taeoh's first cup of tea was delivered to him by his favourite fuck toy. She had no idea she was giving him the first drops of poison that would kick off his slow and painful death. You had managed to distract the dumb girl long enough to slip a few drops in his tea before sending her on her way.

Taeoh had a following five cups of tea the day after you arrived home, and by the third day he was already coughing and spluttering about the palace. You would hear him coming before you saw him. He mentioned his sickness to you, and you suggested it was simply a travel cold and that it would pass soon enough - but just to be sure you would write for the doctor to arrive. You did as you promised, the doctor checked Taeoh over and found nothing wrong with him, meaning the poison was just as undetectable as promised.

It was within the first week you noticed things taking a true turn. Taeoh's temper had been growing shorter and shorter by the day - his sickness taking a toll on him emotionally. He hadn't tried to enter you since you arrived home and as far as you knew, he hadn't tried it with any of his regular whores either. So not only was he furious with his sickness, he was furious with his lack of orgasms and needed some kind of release. Shouting seemed to be providing him with that release. You were unconcerned with his new behaviour until a new woman entered your room one morning in the place of Eunjae.

"Where is my usual maid?" You asked. This was extremely unusual for Eunjae to not show up to work.

"You didn't know?" The new maid asked.

"Know what?"

"She stole from the King, Your Highness. She is awaiting her trial which will be some time this week. Forgive me, ma'am. I thought you knew."

The new girl dressed you quickly giving you the time to run to your husband's office and barge in on his meeting, completely unphased by the government officials who were in attendance. Your anger had been triggered, never had you felt such rage before. "What is this I hear from the staff about my maid?"

"Not now, woman. Can you not see how busy I am?"

You picked up his ink pot and threw it at the wall, allowing it to smash into tiny pieces and staining everything the liquid touched. "I do not care how busy you are! How dare you accuse one of my maids of theft. I have known her for many years and can assure you she would never do such a thing. Revoke your accusations at once!"

Taeoh stood from his seat and slapped your face. "How dare you speak to your superior in such a manner. Were you not taught a woman's place in the home? Or need you be reminded of such a roll?"

"Revoke your accusations at once!" You ordered again.

Taeoh grabbed your hair and pulled it. His face was merely inches from yours. "I will do no such thing, whore. I caught the wench stealing from me, and she will be punished accordingly."

"And what is the punishment for a crime she did not commit?"

"The punishment for theft is death."

It was as if your whole world had stopped turning. Everything moved in slow motion, including Taeoh releasing you from his grasp and pushing you away. He had said something to you but you couldn't process the words as your mind had gone into shut down. He planned on killing your family - the only person who had been there for you from the beginning. You began to beg and plead with your husband, forgetting that all the members of parliament were sat in the room watching this happen, but instead of showing you any compassion you were dragged away by two guards who gently pulled you out of the room and back to your chambers.

When you had composed yourself, you left the palace and headed for the prison. You were terrified of losing Eunjae and so your fear had manifested itself into anger and dominance. You were no longer the quiet wallflower Taeoh married. You were unstoppable and demanding, especially when the warden of the jail initially refused to let you see her. When you did see her, you wept.

Eunjae sat chained to one of the stone walls, wearing the clothes she was arrested in but they were all dirty and torn in places. What skin you could see had been cut and bruised where the officers had taken it upon themselves to beat her. If there wasn't a bruise on her bare skin, there was dried blood where no one had bothered to bathe her. She was exhausted: you could tell so just by looking at her. There were dark circles around her eyes which were void of emotion as she'd seemingly cried out all of the feelings she had until she was left a numb shell in a damp prison.

"Eunjae!" You cried her name desperately, and when she looked up at you all the colour returned to her face. Hope appeared in her eyes. She stood (weakly) and moved as fast as she could to the barred door where you were waiting for her.

"Ma'am, I am so sorry!" She cried. Tears had began to flow once more as she apologised to you over and over again.

"Why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong."

The way Eunjae looked at you was almost as though she was shocked you believed her innocence. It didn't surprise you, though. Of course no one would believe her innocence, the King was against her. What he said went no matter what. "I let you down, ma'am."

"What nonsense. You could never. You have done nothing wrong. I will try and fix this. I will try and get you released from here, I promise."

"If you don't-"

"I will."

"But if you don't - you should know, ma'am, that you are such a wonderful person. You have been my best friend for many years and it's been a pleasure dressing you every morning."

"You are not going to die. I'm going to talk to the guards and get you released. You will have to go somewhere else, you won't be able to stay in this kingdom but I shall join you soon."

"Ma'am?"

"I have a plan. We will be living in Blossom Manor House just outside of Qedian. I cannot tell you everything, it is too risky. I just need you to go there and wait for me, okay?"

"I do not understand. How?"

"I cannot tell you now but all will be revealed in due course. Please, hold tight. I will find a way to get you out of here."

You grabbed hold of Eunjae's hands and held them for a little while before silently saying goodbye to her and rushing towards the warden's office. He wasn't there to barter with, and the guards were seemingly distracted, so you were able to take the key from the warden's desk and break Eunjae out that way. You ordered her to go out the back door so she wouldn't be seen, and would be able to slip into the streets undetected. Of course, she obeyed and was on her way to safety as soon as you'd departed.

[shirtlesssammy]

14x11: Damaged Goods

Then:

So Death kind of throws a wrench in Dean’s whole need for free will thing.

Now:

Ooh, Nick has resurfaced and is torturing demons into finding Abraxas, the demon that killed his family. Or, well he’s looking for the hunter that captured Abraxas. She’s in Hibbing, Minnesota.

Dean, meanwhile, is packing up and heading out to spend some quality time with his car and his Mom.

(I mean, that’s what he thought here, right?)

Sam is busy doing research, but willingly agrees to come along before Dean stops him and says he’s going alone. Then Dean hugs Sam, and while it’s sweet and heartbreaking and everyone seems to really love this moment, I was cringing at how awkward the hug was. Sam is 100% suspicious of his brother, so I believe he also found it awkward. [Natasha: SO awkward]

Sam calls Mary to talk about Dean. She’s more of a “Go ahead, touch the cornballer” kind of mom and isn’t as concerned about Dean’s state of mind. She respects his privacy. Sam lets that slide because his investigation into what Dean took with him reveals some missing books, and despite the lack of call numbers, Sam Winchester has the entire Men of Letters collection cataloged and classified.

On his road trip, Dean stops to check in with Donna. They’re enjoying their mutual love of burgers. Boy, Dean and Donna sure do have a lot in common. They always seem to love the same type of food. Wow. Despite Dean’s many attempts at avoiding the elephant at the picnic table, Donna finally brings up Michael. She hopes that he’ll open up, but Dean only gives her the old Winchester “I’ll make it through” shutdown.

Dean makes it to Donna’s cabin, only to hear gunshots. He’s on instant alert. Lol, it’s just dear ol’ mom shooting pumpkins for target practice.

That’s one way to get rid of the fall bumper crop (in December…). When Mary suggests Sam join them, Dean snaps that he doesn’t want Sam there. Hmm. Dean’s hangry, guys! He’s also a lying liar who lies, telling Mary that he just had a long drive and no food. He asks her to make his favorite meal when he was a small child, “Winchester Surprise.” And we’re gifted with another piece to Dean’s life puzzle. Greasy food is comfort food not because it’s all he’s known, but because it’s something he remembers from his too short of a childhood. Mary agrees and heads out to get groceries --and pie.

Dean heads to Donna’s workshop to begin the project that really brought him to Hibbing. Before he can begin, he’s gotta take a looky-loo at all the pin-ups of half-naked dark haired men. In no way shape or form is the show that JUST showed us how similar Dean and Donna are about food implying that Dean and Donna are similar in other ways too. Also, in no way shape or form is the show highlighting Dean locking something away deep inside himself by having Michael rage inside his head directly after he stared at all the posters of half-naked dark haired men. Dean finds the 8-track player and selects some tunes. And as @prairiedust posts out in this great post, in no way is this show trying to tell us something through Dean’s musical choices.

We’re then gifted with a montage of Dean using power tools while sparks fly around one of the pictures of a dark haired shirtless man. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

For Subtextual Science:

This all truly distracted me from thinking about what Dean is actually building in the workshop.

Mary gets help from Joe, the grocery store attendant. He’s kind of surprised by her food purchases since she only ever buys pumpkins, whisky, and crossword puzzles. EEsh, is everything ok, Mary? [Natasha: Definitely not. My theory is that Bobby took off right away and Mary’s just been holed up alone with her thoughts and pumpkin guts.]

Later, Joe is putting carts away when Nick pulls up in a completely normal, non-scary, or suspicious van and asks where he can find Mary Winchester. Joe acts like he doesn’t know her (Joe, I’m sorry I doubted your trustworthiness two minutes ago.) And Nick, why the hell would a random citizen of Hibbing know who Mary is? Lucky for us, he does know her and alerts the police with a call.

Later that night, Nick is trolling the back roads of Hibbing when Donna passes him, and pulls him over. He’s driving around in a stolen creeper van.

She cuffs him and runs his fingerprints. AND THEN TURNS HER BACK ON HIM. DONNA NO. He manages to slip his cuffs and they tussle. Nick tasers Donna.

Mary returns after dark to find Dean just leaving the workshop. She asks what he’s been up to, but he’s elusive and changes the subject. Dean wants to help Mary make dinner. He then LIES again by saying he’s a terrible cook. Wut? I know, I get it. It’s how Dean tries to connect to people. Mary is not dumb though and is really suspicious about Dean. While Dean is finishing up cooking the meal, she talks with Sam. Despite Mary’s protests, Sam’s on his way to Hibbing.

Dean and Mary get to eating the dish of grease with extra cheese. Dean tells us what he thinks is a super funny story from his childhood, but it’s really just a very sad reminder for Mary that Dean had a shit childhood and John was a shit parent. And I’m over here weeping because Dean hangs onto these memories as a good thing because they’re all he has.

Later when Dean’s asleep, Mary heads into the barn and discovers books of lore and a folded sheet of paper (ostensibly ripped from Dean’s death book). “No no no no no,” Mary says. URG, that can’t be good. When she rushes back to the house, Nick intercepts Mary.

Dean wakes to his ringing phone. It’s Donna! She’s calling to warn him about Nick, who knocked her out, escaped, and is heading back to Mary’s place. Dean rushes outside, only to find Sam there instead. Hey, Sammy!

Nick holds Mary prisoner in his creeper van and Mary, bless her, looks utterly comfortable in that predicament. PLEASE, she’s dealt with much bigger fish. Nick delivers a rambling villain’s address, to which Mary just shakes her head. 

Nick asks her about a demon hunt a while back where she faced Abraxas (who murdered Nick’s family). Mary’s exasperated with Nick’s theatrics, because he could have just asked her about the demon like a normal person. Mary tells him that Abraxas is dead, but Nick calls her out on a lie. So Mary confesses - Abraxas was too strong so she locked him in an Enochian puzzle box. She directs Nick to a self-storage facility nearby. I LOVE that Mary has her own hunter’s lockup. (Perhaps several, even? Oooo. That seems like a Mary thing to do.)

She opens the door (Dean’s birthday is part of the combination - HELP ME I AM SUFFERING EMOTIONS. It ends with “67.”).

Once inside, Mary carefully steps over her shotgun booby trap line. Alas, Nick notices it as well and dismantles it. Nick! Come on, man. She could reuse that trap. 

Nick bashes the lock off a cage and starts opening lockers. He finds:

A head in a jar

A creepy doll/mannequin

A puzzle box

Nick demands that Mary open the box so he can interrogate Abraxas. Mary shows him her anti-possession tattoo. “You didn’t think this through, did you?” Mary asks, sounding every inch the irritated master hunter whose time is being wasted.

Meanwhile, Donna, Dean, and Sam race to find Mary.

Dean lays into Sam about Nick, but Sam defends his actions. Sam could have ended up being Lucifer’s vessel for years so he was treating Nick with due consideration and empathy. Dean tells Sam that he needs to learn when to cut loose the hopeless cases (a.k.a. Dean).

Back at Mary’s lockup, Nick’s kidnapped the security guard, intent on releasing Abraxas into the guard. Mary tries to get the drop on Nick, but she’s still trussed up and Nick kicks her into the fence. Nick tries to unlock the box but finds it impenetrable...to his intellect.

A power drill goes right through, though. Abraxas zooms out and possesses the guard. 

Nick demands to know why Abraxas killed his family. Abraxas promises to tell him, provided that Nick kills Mary. Nick decides to go for the deal when Sam wings Nick’s ear with a well-aimed gunshot. Dean, Sam, and Donna head into the lockup. It looks like their defeat of Nick is a lock until Nick scratches away part of the devil’s trap and frees Abraxas. Once free, Abraxas tells Nick that his family was killed so he could be a potential vessel for Lucifer - but that there isn’t anything inherently special about him. Suck on that, Nick.

Nick kills Abraxas after his villain monologue and starts to turn the blade on the others in the lockup.

Fortunately, Donna’s there to shoot Nick in the leg. Mary knocks him out. DREAM TEAM <3

Later, Donna prepares to take Nick away to jail.

Sam confronts him and apologizes for not being able to help Nick. “It’s not about you. You couldn’t fix me because I didn’t want to be fixed.” Sam’s regrets aren’t about Nick, though. They’re about all the people Nick hurt. Let’s all take a moment to reflect on Nick’s cold-ass murder of the innocent security guard, whom he kidnapped within the past hour.

“You can burn,” Sam tells Nick. HARD AGREE.

Meanwhile, Mary has her own confrontation with Dean about what he’s building in her shed. “We are gonna talk about that,” Mary tells him - and he had better bring Sam into the loop.

Cut to the next morning. Dean explains the box he’s been building to Sam.

This is the first time we get a good look at it, and DEAR LORD it’s a coffin. It’s a Ma’lak box, Dean explains. It’s a heavily warded container strong enough to hold even an archangel. Sam’s shocked to learn that Dean wants to be buried alive. So I am! BUT WAIT, KIDS, THERE’S MORE. Dean intends to pay “a little hush money” to a boat captain and get hauled out to the Pacific and dropped there to suffer forever under the waves. Dean tells Sam in no uncertain terms that he’s losing his hold on Michael. They’re working under a countdown clock. Dean acknowledges that Sam, Cas, and Jack have tried to save him - “And I love you for trying.” Dean tells Sam about his visit from Billie, during which she gave him the instructions for his once-impossible prison. In his determination, the box is the only option - it’s FATE. Ugh, a Winchester - DEAN Winchester - believing in fate. It hurts.

“So you came out here to see Donna - to see Mom on some sick, secret farewell tour? You were gonna leave and you weren’t even gonna tell me?” Sam’s pissed, and who can blame him? Ouch. OUCH.

Dean tells Sam that he couldn’t tell him about the box because Sam’s the only person who could talk him out of his plan. “Alright,” Sam says softly, finally.

And...scene.

Just Shove These Emotional Quotes into an Impenetrable Box:

We don’t hug--  We do but only when it’s literally the end of the world.

Just wondering if you’ve run out of ways to ask me how I’m doing so as to avoid me repayin’ the favor.

Delicious heart attack on a plate, and I would like mine with extra cheese.

You catch a lotta fish with that Arkansas toothpick you got there on the passenger seat?

First name eat, last name me.

Everyone keeps asking how I am… And how I am is I don’t wanna talk about it.

Since when do we cut people loose?

Since when do we believe in fate?

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

[ongnable]

upperclass(men)

“Does it still bother you? The fact that they didn’t even wait to accuse us?”

“Hm…? No, I was just distracted by the balloons.” Clear reds and cyan blues were made sunset orange and leafy green by the transparent yellow ones in front. Very pretty. Hopefully distracting enough to clear your mind.

“You know you can’t lie to me. You can try, but even if I didn’t have my abilities, I’d still see right through you.”

’Why?’ you’d wanted to ask. Instead, it’s “how?” that comes out.

“Because I care about you.” 

Because I like you, I’d obviously pay attention to you

{ supernatural au } kdn | bjy | pwj | osw | hmh | hsw

a/n: haetae sungwoon~! think something along the lines of haetae in god of high school and hoozuki. sungwoon x reader bicker like an old married couple.

“You two students at the institute?” The vendor gestured at your sharply cut uniforms, attempting to make small talk as he took your orders, the monochrome fabrics standing out amongst the swathes of playground coloured clothe whilst Sungwoon and you shared a knowing look.

There were children that stood up to your waist openly staring at every movement – fascinated. Their parents wary of every step.

Though magical creatures didn’t look different in their humanoid form, something about the two of you would’ve still felt different to them. Your aura, your scent, your touch, or something else. 

There was no point hiding it – to change out of your uniforms – when the Peace Treaty required you to wear your identities around human settlements anyway. At least this way, they’d know you were part of a neutral facility.

Luckily, the ice cream seller didn’t seem to ask it mockingly, just curious. Perhaps not having seen many of you during the busier weekend periods. 

Alas, final year students couldn’t afford wasting school days out and the younger ones had to stay on campus – no roaming around unless chaperoned. The round trip there and back took up a good portion of the day, after all.

“Yes.” Sungwoon answered politely, shielding you by his side as the high schoolers behind popped up to ask for two ice creams over your shoulders. The vendor busying himself with preparing the four cones.

He’d handed you the ice cream and ushered you away from the store before the two of you were abruptly stopped by a shout- 

“Yah, you thieving freaks, you didn’t pay!!”

Snickering whispers surrounded the two of you in seconds, and you felt Sungwoon stiffen a growl. Constricting the guttural sound inside him before he turns around and lifts a neatly groomed brow (damn him and his perfect skincare routines for making you self-conscious at a moment like this). 

Scanning the crowd, you could see the fine golden mist surrounding him even if it was invisible to the non-supernatural around you. His hair taking on a richer vermillion tone as his gaze settled on a woman cradling a baby. 

You recognized her as the person paying the next counter down.

“Ma’am?”

“I… yes?” Hypnotized, she followed Sungwoon’s line of sight, back at the vendors.

Silence filled the normally boisterous area as parents told their children to be quiet and teenagers adopted hushed voices. People around were now even more cautious to approach the two of you, a circle in the crowd forming as if you had taken the woman and her toddler hostage. You wanted to throw up.

This had happened before too. 

Blaming the supernatural for crimes they didn’t commit, for natural disasters caused by human negligence, for the evil desires that arouse naturally that they didn’t want to acknowledge. But you, yourself, had never been so publicly condemned.

“Won’t you help us out?” It had sounded like a request, but you knew better than to doubt a haetae’s abilities, strengthened even more in his human form. 

As a mythical beast, Sungwoon’s true form took up too much spiritual energy to maintain – usually at the cost of his other abilities; but in this state, it was pressurized in a stabilized core – as if all the power in his true form were to be laser thin and pin pointed.

Walking over, the young mother tilted her head at the high schoolers from before, shaking her head in their direction and dropping her eyes in disappointment. But disappointment in what – you didn’t know.

“Those two walked off before paying,” she voiced what she’d seen without any of her earlier meekness, courage withstanding even when one of the boys stepped forward, fists balled and her baby began crying; only to be stopped when Sungwoon placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Let her finish.”

“They told the part-timer who changed shifts with you that they were with those two, they said that the institute students should pay for them since human taxes were used to help fund the school.” 

It was your anger this time that made everything look hazy. 

“Said that the supernatural should stay with the supernatural instead of mingling amongst humans.”

Sighing, the fire in your breath didn’t cool until you reached Sungwoon’s side, his body warm, calming, next to you. And he’s smiling and cordial as he apologizes to the vendors for the misunderstanding. As if he did something wrong.

“Let’s go. They’ll sort it out. It wasn’t anything serious.” He pulls you with him towards the ferris wheel. Somewhere you could be alone. Away. Above the from the crowds.

“Does it still bother you? The fact that they didn’t even wait to accuse us?”

“Hm…? No, I was just distracted by the balloons.” Clear reds and cyan blues, made sunset orange and leafy green by the transparent yellow ones in front. Very pretty. Hopefully distracting enough to clear your mind.

“You know you can’t lie to me. You can try, but even if I didn’t have my abilities, I’d still see right through you.”

’Why?’ you’d wanted to ask. Instead, it’s “how?” that comes out.

“Because I care about you.” 

Because I like you, I’d obviously pay attention to you

“It’s just… hard to not be bothered.” One or two accusations you could deal with… but with crowds, it was always difficult. You also hated how fast he was to apologize. To admit to a wrong he didn’t commit. But you didn’t have to tell him that.

“Look at it this way… we’re lucky that we have humanoid forms. Imagine how they would have treated us if we had to wear modified uniforms.” 

Modified to fit tails, or four legs, or wings and scales. Creatures such as centaurs rarely left the institute for such reasons. They didn’t return with good stories to tell. 

“They say that we’re monsters, as if being human is the ultimate compliment. Calling other races monstrous, as if they’re not monsters themselves. They really think being human makes them humane.”

You knew it was one of the reasons Sungwoon preferred to remain in his human form even though it was more tiring. You gripped his hand tighter.

“What an eventful first date.”

“Eventful… that’s a good word. Very neutral. You’re doing great with this ‘politically correct’ thing.”

“Well, at least one race should try. And the non-magical mob just now clearly wasn’t very accommodating.”

“Did you know? Apparently first dates should always be at the amusement park.” 

That’s one you haven’t heard before. The redhead says it with a determined look on his face, and you can tell he’s trying hard to change the sullen mood as he leads you towards the ride, the two of you settle in line steadily and without trouble. 

No one seeming to mind approaching the uniforms when faced with the threat of getting their place cut in the queue.

“Why?”

“That’s what Daehwi said-” Sungwoon hurried to explain when he saw your unbelieving face. “You never run out of things to do at the amusement park and you’re forced to talk while you’re in line! That’s what he said!”

Stifling a laugh, you could definitely imagine it. 

The 101 dorm boys lazing in their ridiculously luxurious building (a donation courtesy of the magical community’s royalty), eating whatever unhealthy snack they could get their hands on (or was it paws on?) while complaining about their respective love lives like girls in the changing room.

“Is that what you talk about with the underclassmen? Where to go for first dates?”

“He’s not just any underclassmen! He’s Lee Daehwi! You adore Daehwi!”

“I adore him because he’s Daehwi,” you explain with a flick of your wrist, as if the action was synonymous with the sassy young wizard. “You’re very brave to follow his dating advice.”

Provided that while the spell caster was indeed popular, it didn’t exactly translate well into his love life.

“It’s not like I had anyone better to go to. All the guys back in the dorm collectively share one brain cell.”

“You included?”

“Me, excluded. You didn’t let me finish.” 

Tutting, he leans back, the rails of the queue you’re standing in shifting back slightly at the weight before getting stuck into a new crook in the concrete. 

“Used to think that it belonged to Jinyoung – but he’s consistently proving me wrong these days. And don’t even get me started on Minhyun! All the smart ones are the ones that apparently crack the hardest. I really worry for the future of our world.” Sungwoon sighs, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d be tricked into thinking that he was legitimately concerned.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Wha- how am I the ridiculous one?! I had a girl I liked and I pursued her like a normal person!” You had to give it to him. Compared to unconventional courting methods of the dorm 101 occupants, Sungwoon was doing an exemplary job. 

Stellar even.

“You’re still pursuing.” You corrected. 

Smug at the appalled look on the mythical beast’s face before he began to form a pout. How he looked so cuddly and cute in his human form, but fierce and intimidating in his other confused and fascinated you to no end. 

“So you don’t get to make fun of the younger ones.” 

“I didn’t expect the haetae to look... Well. Like you.”

“What? To look normal?” His mouth is pursed to one side of his face, but his expression amused.

He’s rounded corners, lilted laughter, petit statute and fluffy cloud-like hair. All the makings of a pretty fairy. He didn’t need to know that though.

“No.” It was your turn to find laughter. “To look handsome.”

The unexpected flush that merged his face with his reddened hairline did nothing to mask the mythical beast’s cuteness, and the roundness of his cheeks looked even more prominent as he presses his lips together.

“Gods. You’re so-“ 

Tilting your head to the side, you wait for what he has to say since words seem to have failed him as he just continues to stare. 

“You’re so embarrassing!” Sungwoon muttered, looking away.

“Embarrassing for me? Or embarrassing for you? I’m not the one that can’t take a compliment.”

Miffed, or flustered. Maybe a bit of both, Sungwoon glanced at you with his face is still turned.

“Well, I’m sorry not all of us are so forward.” Blunt. Or just shameless. You didn’t mind either.

“And I’m sorry not all of us are subtle.”

Oh, how the tables had turned. Now he was the one that consistently made you blush. You still can’t put a finger on when exactly it had started, what day of the week had it been and of which month did he start becoming the one to make you the shy one?

You’re just glad he doesn’t seem to realize it himself either.

“You could always rectify that. Change our status so that I do get to tease the younger ones. Maybe we should even do that selfie announcement thing where we time our Facebook status change a minute within one another and have matching display pics.”

You hoped he wasn’t for saying that you should really do that. 

“We’ll be the ones get teased for doing ‘old people stuff’ by the kids then!” 

Who even used Facebook anymore!

“I hate how you didn’t even bother to hedge around the fact that we’re getting old – gotta give them something to tease us back for though,” he shrugged. “They’ll call foul if we don’t.”

“Gods above and below, you’re such a hyung. One minute you complain about them and the next you plan to give them something to make fun of you for just so its reciprocated. I don’t know whether to be impressed or worried!”

“You can be both. Both are fine. Just give me twice the amount of attention.”

“You’re incorrigible. I’m glad your kids know that you’re that way.”

“Their your kids too!” 

Reminding you of the fact that you practically adopted the savage JinHwi duo the day you were assigned as their mentor when they transferred halfway through the term. He nudged you by the shoulders. 

“And I’m lucky you have a habit of being that way too.”

“Oi!” You nudged back.

“It’s fine. No worries. I like you even though you’re like that. I don’t trust anybody else to handle you.” 

Sungwoon let go of your hand as the two of you stepped into the ferris wheel capsule.

“Not to mention; I’m good-looking, kind, and very good at catching liars and thieves. By extension, I also hate liars, so I’m a great judge of character. What’s more, I’m also taller than Guanli-“

“I thought you hated liars!”

“Taller than Guanlin once I transform. You never let me finish!

“Guanlin’s still a growing boy!” The haetae were one of the largest creatures throughout any of the realms, so that was a given. But transformations for mythical beasts were unpredictable, and given Guanlin’s race…

“Well, for the time being, his mythical form is still smaller! And what did I say? They’re as much your kids as they are mine. Even while we’re on our date – they’re still interrupting!” 

You want to say that he’s the one that’s consistently bringing them up. But decide that it’s probably better to not let him know just how much he cares, lest he actively avoids the subject.

By now, a smile had stuck on, but you purposefully let it drop a bit, almost guilty when you saw the way Sungwoon’s expression flickered to confusion. “Thanks, you know,”

“You’re welcome,” comes out quick, like an automatic reaction,

“But I still think eventful isn’t the right word. Being politically correct isn’t really my thing.” That was Jisung’s thing. 

The two of you may be final year students at the institute – but you were still young. What was the point to dwell on such things? 

Leaning forward, you whispered lowly; as if planning a much more elaborate prank on the others than what you actually propose.

“Also - let’s tell the others that we had an awful first date.”

“Why the hell would we do that?” 

He stood, and the capsule swung back and forth. The sky coming into view one moment, and the ground the next. People smaller than ants from where you sat.

“Passengers, please stay seated during the duration of the ride. Thank you for your cooperation and we hope you enjoy your time with us tonight.” The loud speaker announced as the ferris wheel came to a temporary halt.

“Cooperation my ass.” Rolling his eyes, the haetae sat back down. Visibly annoyed.

“Didn’t Daehwi tell you?” 

You really wanted to reach out and pinch his cheeks when he sulked. Evidently, Daehwi didn’t tell him. 

“Awful first dates don’t count. You owe me another first date, Sungwoon-sshi.”

masterlist

[starkxsarcasm]

Meta...ish...sorta

So I have debated writing about this for a while, because it will no doubt be polarizing for a lot of people, but with Infinity War about to come out of DVD,Blu-Ray and that good stuff and having seen a bunch of gifs surrounding this, I feel comfortable stating my thoughts. So just take it how you will and if you agree or disagree, that’s totally fine. But here it goes.

I have such mixed feelings about Tony/Pepper.

Allow me to explain, for this is not a new thing. In fact, I’ve felt this way since the first Iron Man. So let’s start from the beginning.

Iron Man 1

When we are first introduced to Pepper, I was 100% on board. She was classy and sassy, took no shit from anyone and was fiercely loyal to Tony. 

I mean, look at this power girl. She knows Tony has important shit to do and can’t be bothered with awkward breakfasts or underhanded remarks from “Miss Brown” here. So, in the most classiest way, she basically tells her to GTFO, bitch. I loved it!

And then there first interaction. Oh my god, the cuteness!

Like, look at these two! They’re so cute! Pepper being the studious, responsible one, reminding the man-child Tony of all the stuff he has to do, all while Tony playfully flirts with her. Adorableness personified!

I mean, most of them in this movie is just so heartwarming! Tony hearing Pepper call his name while he’s being tortured, Pepper having cried when he came back, the little bicker they had when Tony wouldn't go to the hospital, how she stood by him even after he shut down his weapons manufacturing division when it would’ve been so easy to jump ship, the fun interaction with her helping change his arc reactor. I mean, guys, they were on a roll with this! I loved it!

Then came the first point of contention.

When Pepper finds out what Tony is doing, she tries to stop him and even tries to quit. Now I gave her the benefit of the doubt here, because what Tony was doing was kinda crazy. This was all before SHIELD and the Avengers, so him deciding to just superhero it up was obscenely dangerous. And, to her credit, she listens to him when he explains why he has to do this and does eventually help him download the files and stop Obadiah. All in all, this film was a great set up to their relationship and I so wish it continued on this path. 

But alas, it did not. Then comes Iron Man 2

Iron Man 2

Okay, I’m gonna try not to rant too much on this one, but honestly, this part kinda gets me heated up. So, us as the audience are privy very early on to the fact that Tony is dying from palladium poisoning, spelled out by JARVIS who says, “The device keeping you alive is also killing you.” So like, whoa, holy shit! What’s Tony gonna do now?

So, in comes Pepper! Right off the bat yelling at Tony for donating their art collection.

Okay, fine. That was probably frustrating after all the time Pepper spent curating it, but...does she even stop to question why Tony is doing that? It’s clearly out of character, or else she wouldn’t be so shocked and mad. Remember, this is supposed to be one of the people who knows Tony best and yes, Tony hides his emotions and thoughts really badly, but this is a blatant sign that something is wrong. But her first reaction is to shout at him? Okay, that’s not gonna get him to tell you what’s going on. At all. If anything, it’s gonna make him retreat farther into his shell. 

And another thing that kinda peeves me is she only chills out when Tony promotes her to CEO. Okay, yeah, huge promotion anyone would be happy about, but did she just forget that Tony is acting super out of character? That something might be seriously wrong?

Then the bit where Natasha/Natalie comes in and they sort of fall back into the goofy, cuteness argu-flirting during that scene, so I’m kinda like, “Okay, we’re back on track!”

Then...The Grand Prix

No, no, I’m sorry, but I’m with Tony here. What the hell was he supposed to do? Okay, being in the race was a last minute, reckless move but was he just supposed to run away? Let Vanko cut up more cars and hurt more people? Uh, no. That’s not who Tony is. People were in trouble, he wanted to help. And he gets yelled at for it.

Then the plane ride home.

Ding, ding, ding! Hello! I mean, does this guy need a giant flashing neon sign that reads “I’m not okay”? He is clearly acting super off in this scene, not wanting to go home, wanting to “be healthy” in Venice. He is practically holding himself back from completely losing it in front of her, and she doesn’t even notice? Okay, aftermath of a battle, nerves are frayed, I get it. But come on! It’s plainly obvious!

Hell, the first person Tony opens up to isn’t even Pepper, it’s Rhodey. The guy who realizes, “Hey, Tony is not okay. Let’s put aside all this bureaucracy BS for one second so I can find out what’s going on with my friend.” And him genuinely caring about that let’s Tony open up. Hell, he shows Rhodey the burnt out palladium. And yes, later they fight, but he trusted Rhodey in that moment to let him see him at his weakest.

I’m gonna skip the party scene a bit because I can honestly see both sides. Sure, Tony is acting a bit like a jackass and Pepper is tired, but again, this is still another red flag she just doesn’t catch.

And then the scene that really had me questioning this ship real hard.

Again, I get it I really do. She is frustrated and overworked. We’ve all been there But she doesn’t even try to listen to him. This is Tony Stark we’re talking about, a man who knows how to talk about his feelings about as well as a fish knows how to fly. And here he is, trying to explain everything that’s going on, stammering over his words and trying to explain his side and she just cuts him off, like nothing. This isn’t even an argument at this point, this is just shouting louder than someone else and refusing to hear them. This scene really rubbed me the wrong way. Tony doesn’t have anyone else at this point. Rhodey’s gone, his house is a wreck, Fury is just cryptic. He needs someone. And she just shuts him down, because she’d frustrated. Like, that is just so low to me.

But okay, the movie goes on, they have the battle at the Expo and Tony saves her. Got it, got it. Cool! The interaction on the roof was cool and the kiss was cute, but honestly...it was just more bickering? And the kiss, the more I think about it, doesn’t seem earned after all that’s happened above. 

But okay! Maybe things will be better next movie, right? Wrong!

Iron Man 3

Now, I’m largely skipping The Avengers, because their interactions are limited and, for the most part, kinda cute. Even the little bicker with the 12% comment was kinda light and funny. They really did have nice interactions, cute moments of flirting and it even kinda made me sad that Tony couldn’t connect to Pepper before flying into space. Overall, I have no problem with them in the Avengers. 

That’s not the case in Iron Man 3.

Now this section is largely gonna be void of pictures and too much ranting, because I’ve already gone over my least favorite scene in this meta here: http://starkxsarcasm.tumblr.com/post/169317464612/musings

But I’m still gonna touch on some things. 

Okay, but for real. Can someone explain to me what the fuck is going on here in this scene? Like, honestly. I’m lost. Pepper has just told Happy she’s been batting Killian off with a stick for years because he’s constantly asked her out. I think all girls can relate to that one guy who just won’t take no for an answer, so when I heard her tell Happy this, I was like, “Go, girl! Be that strong woman!”

But oh no, Killian’s turned..hot?! (I used that term loosely, because to me he looks like a bag of unflavored corn chips) But...seriously?! Because he’s cleaned up a bit, you’re suddenly all taken aback and all like, “You look great!” Girl, this was a creepy guy, creeping on you creepily for years! Now you’re letting him touch you and be all flirty without kicking him in the nuts?!

I’m totally on Tony’s side here! He has a right to be jealous, if this is how she acts towards some creep who got a five dollar makeover! To her credit, she turns down his proposal, but then acts all flustered and blushy when he leaves. What the hell, Pepper? What happened to that power girl who told “Miss Brown” to kindly fuck off?

And then the subsequent “I can’t sleep” through “Tinker with that” scene which....*deep breath* Yeah, if you wanna know my feelings on that, read the above linked meta post, because talking about it more is just gonna make me angry.

And, even after all that, even after Tony plainly explains he is not okay, the next scene with Maya is literally just Pepper taking potshots at Tony, calling Maya an “old girlfriend” and arguing with him about all that’s been going on. And yes, Tony was dumb threatening the Mandarin. Yes, Pepper has a right to be freaked out. But honestly, when is enough gonna be enough? He is trying to do the best he can, while also suffering from PTSD. Shouting at him is not going to help! I don’t know how many times I can say that before it sticks. Then the house collapses and she thinks Tony is dead and it’s sadness all around. She gets kidnapped again, Tony has to save her. Fast-forwarding because, again, I largely have no problem with these scenes. I even kinda like the “I got you.” “I got you first” line. 

Then, when Tony finally does come to rescue her, first thing she does is call him a jerk. Um...okay? You’re welcome? He just fought through hell and back to get to you, but sure, “jerk” works, I guess. Then the mad scramble for Tony to go and get her followed by thinking she’s dead. Again, no problem with this bit, but that may be due to RDJ’s phenomenal acting during it, because damn, he sells it. 

And then boom! She’s alive and we get some fairly cool kickass bits from her before it all settles down. Now one line that has always bugged me is the “And all your distractions?” Distractions? Like Tony said at the end, his suits are not distractions, they’re cocoons. When is she going to realize that? Also, no, “So are you going to get help for your PTSD and nightmares?” Nope, just “distractions.”

Not gonna go into Civil War, since Pepper isn’t in it, but if anyone wants to hazard a guess as to why they’re taking a break, *gestures to above text* take your pick!

And now for Homecoming and Infinity War

These I’m combining because the problem I have with the relationship now bleeds into both movies and here it is.

Is it just me or does Pepper seem bizarrely disinterested in marrying and having a family with Tony?

Think about it. When Happy pulls out the ring, she gets this look on her face like, “Uh, excuse me?” That may be from the fact that Happy had been carrying it around so long, sure, but then when Tony tries to defend it, she’s all, “I can think of something better.” Um...ouch.

Then in Infinity War, the line, “If you wanted a kid, you wouldn’t have done that.” Speaking, of course, to his new arc reactor. But...what does that have to do with anything? Pepper, after all this time, is still riding Tony’s ass about being Iron Man and helping save the world and her, and is holding the fact that he wants a kid over his head, almost in revenge. Like, “Well, you chose this, so no kid for you!” And she constantly shoots down talks about a kid and the wedding and just....did you take the ring or not, honey?! What is your issue?

Again, I know this will be polarizing for people, and you’re not stupid or wrong if you like the ship, but guys, I’m gonna be honest. I’m kinda just over it. It started off with such promise and just degraded into unpleasant arguments, ignoring when Tony needs help, and constant “yes, no” backs and forth conversations. 

It’s just not a fun ship for me anymore. I wish it was.

[daddypoett]

The Prince and His Knight

Chapter 1: They Meet

Once upon a time in the faraway Kingdom of Elysium a king and queen give birth to a beautiful baby boy named Lucas. The boy grew up strong, handsome, kind, charming, and all the markings of a truly phenomenal leader. He caught the attention of women from all the nearby kingdoms with his short brown hair groomed to perfection each morning along with his beard being kept short, his milky, amber eyes coupled with his lean muscular body and tall build. The prince, despite his near perfection, does have one tragic difficulty unknown to many casted down on him by the wicked witches of the east. He was cursed with the inability to feel romantic love which would turn permanent and rid him of all his emotions if he could not find his true love by midnight on his eighteenth birthday. Not to mention, the Prince also has difficulty feeling any emotions unless they are intense and completely true. Despite his court’s best attempts the Prince has found himself depressed and lonely for most of his life. Unimpressed by the things that were given to attempt to distract and delight him.

Prince Lucas’ seventeenth birthday rolls around and his court and family are frantic to find him a suitor before he becomes dark and emotionless. His parents have become so desperate and divided on the matter that they decided to each try their own plan to save Prince Lucas.

King Ivan decided he’d train an army to locate and force the wicked witches into lifting the curse. Queen Mary decided she’d have fair maidens lineup from kingdoms near and far to attempt to win over her baby boy’s heart. Day after day the prince would sit for twelve hours talking to princesses and royalty from all over but alas only found them uninteresting with the same uneventful tales of palace or castle life. The prince didn’t have much hope for either plan yet played along to give his family the hope they undoubtedly needed. He often didn’t sleep and would spend his nights in the mirror practicing the emotions he had trouble feeling. One of those included joy which came easy because he felt it some years ago training and going on missions with the recruits for the King’s army. Fighting for himself during the day and singing with his mates at night around a fire brought light into young prince’s eyes. In addition to the freedom he also thoroughly enjoyed getting away from the king and queen for days not having to uphold their standards. Alas, those days are now over. He is a month into his mother’s plan and women still flood the castle gates every morning despite his wishes that they wouldn’t.

The only upside to the separate plans is that King Ivan wasn’t there to have his any of his outbursts. He was too busy taking it out on whatever poor group of knights he got to agree to hunt witches with him. He was barely ever around the castle anymore, instead he is usually out barking orders at his men while dishing out harsh punishments to those who couldn’t keep up with his drills or help him locate the witches.

Today marks the 35th day Queen Mary has tried to force a wife onto the prince yet has failed once again. Per usual, the prince’s overall disdain for these women coupled with his bluntness left a girl in shambles crying at his feet, as he leaned down to apologize he was yanked down by his red and gold robe nearly knocking off his shimmering crown. The woman began begging for him to wed her. Before she could finish her plea the guards came to attempt to drag her away but the six foot tall muscular, tenacious princess put up a fight the guards would not soon forget causing such a commotion Queen Mary rushes to call for more guards to escort the persevering princess out of the castle. Our prince seized this opportunity to step down from his throne and tries to sneak out of the opposite end of the throne hall to escape the posh, panicking princess pile up of doom.

He gets around to the other side of the hall before his name is called out by his mother silencing the chaos as everyone turns to see Lucas sprinting away. He darts left and slides down the spiral staircase, makes another left into the kitchen running into the maids and cooks preparing supper. The maidens gawk at the young man as he takes off his robe and crown handing them to the nearest servant, then bolting out the backdoor in his linen shirt and baggy pants.

He inhales the crisp fresh air, feels the wind blow through his hair, finally away from all the “fair” princesses desperately trying to save him with their misplaced love. He begins running to the training quarters feeling his feet beat against the the dirt path as his heart quickly makes its own beat picking up pace like battle drums leading him to his safe place.

Lucas reaches the sparing area outside and ducks behind some nearby shrubbery to watch a few matches. The winner of the match takes on the next opponent until they lose.

For the entire morning a knight by the name of Connor has gone undefeated, quickly outsmarting his opponents, often leaving them on their back with his wooden sword to their neck. Connor was an orphan boy now seventeen that impressed the king four years ago when he reportedly disarmed and embarrassed several officers attempting to arrest him for theft in the market. He was then giving the choice of life in prison or his pledging unwavering loyalty to protect the kingdom, especially the king and his family. He subjected Connor to harsher training than the rest claiming him as the kingdom’s champion as he vanquished countless foes over the years leaving other rulers petrified of Elysium’s champion.

Connor isn’t short but he certainly isn’t the tallest and despite having a nice build isn’t the biggest either. His mocha brown skin shined with sweat facing his last opponent, even his short, scruffy beard dripped droplets of sweat, he tied back his long wavy hair as his adversary stepped forward. They took their ready positions as Connor felt his blood begin to boil and his heart beginning to thump like wings quickly flapping leading him to push his challenger with a level of sureness he had never felt before.

Prince Lucas can no longer sit by and watch as his heart is still pounding like the stomping of children running down stairs to receive a treat. He wants to feel the rush a of a challenging rival. He dips away at the beginning of the final match to fetch a knight’s helmet and comes back as they begin cheering for their champion. Lucas grabs a loose training sword, pushes past the swarm of sweaty simpletons to stand before Connor. He doesn’t speak, only gestures for him to pick up his sword and gets into fighting position. Connor doesn’t speak as well, just picks up his sword and enters ready position.

Their hearts racing like its their first time in combat. They gravitate toward each other lunging at the same time banging their sword together. After a series of impressive blows from both ends Lucas flings Connor’s sword away. Confident, perhaps too soon, Lucas steps forward expecting surrender yet to his surprise Connor tackles him to the ground pinning Lucas’ hands under his knees leaving him what he thinks is powerless. He goes to remove the helmet of his reticent rival when Lucas kicks his knee up into the back of Connor’s head losing his grip enough on the hand without the sword. Lucas goes to strike Connors face but he catches it and puts it behind Lucas’ head and bends down to be sure of no more surprise knees from behind.

Speaking into the silent silver face Connor says through the chanting of his fellow brethren, “How about a truce?”

“I don’t lose; feel free to get off of me so I can end this.”, Lucas replies through the grates of his metal mask.

“It’s not losing we’re just agreeing to call it even since you have no way out of this but I have no way of striking a final blow, so we are at a stalemate and might as well call it a truce. You’re a great fighter and worthy adversary but this’ll never end.”

“Fine, get off of me.”

He stands up offering the weird warrior his hand, which Lucas ignores standing up and immediately turning and darting away into a nearby forest. He took the long way home, grinning the entire walk back thinking about the way him and Connor fought so passionately with so much fire behind their blows. He removed his helmet when he was close to the castle, once there he snuck in through the kitchen to avoid Queen Mary. The prince then went into his chamber and locked the door. His heart rate had finally simmered down yet it still felt loud like battle drums.

Connor went back to other drills with the men, besting everyone in other skill sets such as archery. He started wishing the secretive soldier would come back to challenge him in other drills. Now Connor is back in his quarters, separate from the rest of the men since he is the kingdom’s champion. He can’t stop thinking about who could’ve matched him so well. He can’t even sleep as he is plagued with questions, wondering where he could’ve came, or if he’s a threat. His heart is calmer now yet is still restless.

Prince Lucas lies awake yearning to feel his heartbeat like it had earlier, so he decided to go look for adventure in the forest and be back in time to face his mother for more potential bride meetings. He got dressed, put on his helmet, and climbed down from his bedroom window. As soon as his feet hit the ground he was off running trying keep up with his heartbeat leading him into the unknown deep in the forest.

Connor decides to go for a walk to attempt to clear his head and as soon as his feet connect with the ground his heartbeat picks up moving his feet for him leading him deep into the forest.

-Poet

[floraexplorer]

What It’s Really Like to Run Your First 5k Race for Life

I did it! I ran a 5km Race For Life!

This time last week I was standing in a south London park with a medal on pink ribbon around my neck. I’d achieved something I never thought I’d do: running 5km for the first time in my life.

For the last few months I’ve been working my way through the Couch to 5k app, a running program based on interval training. It’s designed to get you running 5km over a nine week period by slowly increasing the length of time you run, which also increases your stamina.

In week 6 of the app, I was celebrating the achievement of running for eight minutes without stopping. A week later, it was a twenty minute run which had me whooping sweatily for joy. As my running distances increased, I found that – shock, horror! – I was actually enjoying myself, and I eventually realised just how beneficial running is for my mental health.

So why did I decide to run a Race for Life?

Well, I thought it’d be a good idea to make a big deal out of my first official 5k, instead of simply achieving it while running round the park on my own. Besides, having a pre-arranged 5km run in my diary meant it was that much harder to back out!

But the real reason is a little deeper. My mum died as a result of her breast cancer ten years ago, and a few months before her death she walked the 5km with her two best friends. The certificate (which my mum no doubt bought from an official website) still hangs in the kitchen – it must have been framed by my dad.

It felt appropriate to be running my furthest ever distance in aid of a charity so important to me.

Read more: Why my new-found love of running is helping my anxiety

Preparing for my first Race for Life (and first ever 5km!)

I’d decided to run the Race for Life by myself (none of my friends were in the mood to run it with me!) but because I suffer from anxiety I had a fair amount of casual panic on the days leading up to the race.

What was I going to wear? Would I be warm enough before and after the race in my usual running gear? And how on earth would I carry my stuff?

Usually I run in the park close to my house, so I never have to think about carrying anything more than my phone. But the Race for Life I’d chosen was far enough away to require catching the bus, and I was definitely going to be thirsty afterwards. And what if it rained? Did I need to take a hoodie and run with it around my waist?

According to their website, many Race for Life events have storage for runners’ possessions. But no such luck for the race I’d chosen – so I had to get creative.

After a bit of research I ended up buying a cheap running belt from Sports Direct which could just about hold my phone, a debit card and my headphones. I carried a bottle of water and hoped I’d feel comfortable enough to hold it while running (although I didn’t feel too confident).

Warming up for the Race for Life event

Race day dawned bright and sunny with a predicted forecast of 23’C and a tiny chance of rain. When I caught the bus towards Crystal Palace Park, there were people onboard wearing pink teeshirts and pink tutus with ‘Race For Life’ branded across them – and I remembered that although I was planning to run relatively seriously, plenty of participants are doing it purely for fun!

Once I arrived at the park I wandered through the crowds and found a patch of grass to sit on. The pre-race anxiety was starting to kick in a bit, and I half-wished I’d forced some friends along to watch me run. Trying to keep the nerves at bay, I unfolded my running number and safety-pinned it to the front of my vest (not yet knowing that my hand would constantly hit against the sign during the race and I’d wish I’d pinned it to my back instead!). After a bit of thought I decided I couldn’t chance carrying a water bottle for the duration of the race, so I headed for the friendly-looking women at the Cancer Research tent.

“Excuse me… Is there any chance I can leave my bottle here with you until the race is over?”

They were more than happy to help – and at that moment a man onstage called, “It’s time to start your Race For Life!”

In fact, there were still fifteen minutes to go – but we all stood dutifully opposite the stage while organisers played an audio recording of someone’s cancer story. Although it ended on a positive note, it was still a bit tough to listen to.

Especially because it was then followed by a minute’s silence to reflect on the people we’d lost. 

As a relatively new runner, being in the right mood for running isn’t exactly a guarantee. Right then I actively felt like I was ready for the prospect of running 5km – and I didn’t WANT to think too hard about my mum and her death! Not at this exact moment!  I felt tears pricking the back of my eyes and had to shake it off quickly before I started to actually cry.

Luckily the minute was already over, and the MC announced that we’d collectively raised £86,000 for Cancer Research UK at this event. Not too shabby! A woman in fitness gear leapt on stage and led us all in a round of jumping jacks and jogging on the spot – wherein I immediately realised the running belt was way too loose.

Are you a walker, a jogger, or a runner?

With just a few moments to go before the official race began, we were instructed to join whichever group we identified with: walkers, joggers or runners. Because I apparently always want to challenge myself, I felt my feet heading for the ‘running’ group.

In hindsight, this was perhaps a mistake.

While everyone shuffled and stretched, I put my headphones in my ears and started one of my favourite Spotify playlists. My thumb hovered above the ‘activity’ button on my Strava app; despite not being bothered about my overall race time, I still wanted to track my progress.

Three, two, one… RUN!

As the runners around me began to move, I moved with them – and I almost immediately noticed I was going faster than usual. It was only in that moment that I realised I’ve never run alongside other people before, and clearly I get influenced easily!

Within a few minutes I was out of breath and panting hard. I had to actively slow my pace and give myself a stern, internal talking-to (I may have even closed my eyes for a split second to pretend I was alone on the track).

Luckily the benefit of running amongst so many others was distraction. I could look at people’s outfits, read the messages on their signs and share the occasional smile. I’d also never run in this particular park before, so there was always something new to look at.

At 1km: I was surprised how long it took me to reach the first kilometre. I usually hold my phone while running, which means I can have a quick look at how long I’ve been going for if I want to – but as my phone was firmly wedged into my new belt the possibilities were left wide open. Of course, once I realised there’d be distance markers I then started keeping an eye out for them, even though I didn’t want to!

At 2km: This second kilometre didn’t come easy, either. I grew pretty worried that I might have to pause and walk for a few moments – and although I knew this wouldn’t be the end of the world, I really wanted to be able to run the full distance in one go.

But the biggest thing I’ve learned over the last few months is how much of a mental challenge the act of running really is. This 5km was a huge test in terms of combatting my inclination to self-criticise; there were so many moments where my inner voice was pretty keen on pausing, walking or even just giving up altogether – but I kept on doggedly powering through.

At 3km: By this point I’d finally come into my optimum pace. We were on a satisfyingly straight section of tarmac under the cover of trees, and I felt strong and controlled as my feet repeatedly hit the ground – it was such an amazing feeling! The entire kilometre was a breeze, and I hoped against hope that it’d continue.

Coming up to 4km: Alas, I knew from previous runs that the ‘good stretch’ tends to burn out after a while. This time it was thanks to the running belt around my waist, which I’d tightened so much that it was giving me a stitch (or felt like it, at least). I fiddled with the strap and turned it so the belt was at the small of my back then raised the volume of my music, tried to find an extra reserve of energy in my legs, and willed the 4km marker to appear. Once I knew I only had a single kilometre to go it felt that much more possible.

Coming up to 5km: That last km was still difficult though. I focused solely on what I could see just in my immediate vicinity; the children gazing at ducks in the pond, the infamous Crystal Palace dinosaurs peeking out from behind the bushes, even letting myself muse about the pebbles and leaves on the path ahead – anything to keep me going!

With the finish line in sight: A few minutes before the end there was a diversion for runners who were continuing on with the 10km route. A guy just in front of me peeled off for it but I stayed firmly on course. I ran past the crowds of grinning faces and underneath the ‘Race for Life’ banner…

– and just like that, it was over!

I’m officially a 5km Race for Life runner!

I stumbled over to the Cancer Research tent to retrieve my water bottle, feeling my legs continue to vibrate and shake. The lovely ladies there took a few celebratory photos of me and then I gratefully sank down into the grass.

“I really did it,” I thought. “I just ran a 5k – and I actually enjoyed myself!”

But I opened up Strava, my tracking app, it said I’d actually run 6.1km instead of the official 5km?! Either way, this race was my longest distance and length of time spent running so far!!

I headed for my bus stop with my runner’s number still safety-pinned to my chest. An elderly lady stopped me and said, “Have you been running marathons?”

“No, I’ve just run a 5k!” I said, still full of exhilaration. “ I’m not at marathon stage just yet!”

But judging by the way I feel about running right now, there might well be a marathon in my future (or a 10km in a few months, at least!)

Have you ever run a 5k race? Do you have any tips for a race-beginner like me?  

Pin this article if you enjoyed it!

What did I learn from my first 5k Race For Life?

Races mean running a specific distance, not a time. That might sound blindingly obvious, but thanks to the app I’d grown used to solely running for a specific length of time – and the distance I’d cover would often vary.

Plan how you’ll carry your possessions, and practice beforehand. I didn’t think about carrying water and money until a few days before the race, so

If you listen to music, decide on your playlist before the race.My go-to choice is a Spotify playlist of either pop punk or rock tracks.

A warm-up is crucial. Couch to 5k starts off with five minutes walking to warm-up, but I didn’t do this on the race day. In hindsight, I wonder whether that contributed to me being out of breath at the start?

Running amongst other people can affect your pacing. I wasn’t prepared for how much my pace could be affected by the runners around me, and I started off way too fast.

A warm-down walk is important! I usually do a five minute warm-down walk but didn’t do it after the race. My legs were sore for the next three days!

The post What It’s Really Like to Run Your First 5k Race for Life appeared first on Flora The Explorer.

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[namjuicyy]

Forbidden - Chapter Three

Masterlist | Requests are open.

Genre: Fluff, smut, angst.

Genre of this part: Not really angst but not exactly fluff either.

Word Count: 1.8k.

Summary: Prince Hoseok had never been told “no” until his father lay on his deathbed. Hoseok was ordered to marry, but his eyes were set on the one woman he wasn’t allowed to have.

WARNINGS: A lotta cheese, if you're lactose intolerant or fluff intolerant best to stay away.

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It was amazing to you how quickly you had managed to befriend Prince Hoseok. You had, in the past and especially since marrying Taeoh, had extreme shyness to overcome which meant it took you a good while before you could truly call someone a friend and open up to them. Eunjae was your only friend – a relationship your husband frowned upon as "queens shouldn't mingle with the staff". But what did he know? He could barely keep his own kingdom alive.

Unbeknownst to you, Hoseok was besotted with you. He was completely obsessed by your grace and beauty. The way you carried yourself was with nothing but dignity and poise and it fascinated him to see such an accomplished, beautiful queen be so shy and introverted. Hoseok was never good at hiding his true feelings or emotions, especially to his younger brother. And just your mere presence had snapped the prince out of his old habits and subconsciously made him want to be better; for you, as absurd as it sounded.

Even Jimin had noticed a change not just in Hoseok but in the palace staff too. The palace was running like clockwork for once given that all the female staff were doing their jobs instead of opening their legs for their prince. Jimin, of course, never blamed the women workers. They were simply doing as they were told and giving themselves up for a man they hoped would love them. They were not to blame for anything. But he still chuckled to himself, especially when his mother came down for breakfast earlier than him, when usually the whole household would have a little while to wait before the Queen finally joined them. But your visit to the palace simply proved to Jimin that his brother was the cause of so many delays, but more importantly that he could change; that he wasn't the lost cause their parents had made him out to be. This gentility and gentleman-like nature that had shone showed Hoseok would be a capable ruler.

Jimin was besotted with you too, but not in the same way as his brother. He couldn't quite pinpoint what it was about you that captivated him so – perhaps it was solely down to the idea that it was you who saved his brother. He just knew that he wanted you to be around for a lot longer than planned. And had suggested as such at breakfast one morning.

"What are your plans after the engagement ball, Your Majesty?" He addressed you gently as one of the servants poured you your morning juice, squeezed freshly that morning from the orange trees in the gardens.

"Whatever my husband wishes." You replied dutifully. You hadn't noticed a deep flicker of something appear on Hoseok's face when you mentioned Taeoh, but Jimin did. "I believe our intentions are to return home to our normal lives."

"Ah, but it's been such a pleasure having you both here, Ma'am." His attention turned to your husband seated beside you, though his conversation addressed you both. "Surely your majesties could stay a few days longer. It would be our honour to host you a little while more."

"Alas, we cannot." Taeoh responded. "I have important matters to attend to back in my own kingdom. Your father," his attention turned to his counterpart, "has given me much to think about."

The King nodded at Taeoh.

"You are all, of course, welcome to stay with us should you ever find yourselves closer to our home than yours." You offered. "We would be ecstatic to share what we have with you."

"That sounds wonderful Ma'am, thank you." Jimin responded.

Hoseok noticed the look you and your husband shared from across the table – or rather, the look that your husband gave you. He was clearly unhappy with the prospect of having to socialise with his neighbours. Though this diplomatic trip had been fruitful, it appeared he'd prefer to be left alone. Hoseok would prefer Taeoh were left alone too, that way he'd have you all to himself. No, he mustn't entertain such thoughts. He shouldn't have dared to want you at all. Yet there he sat at his family's breakfast table, pining over you and imagining a life with you he could never have.

In fact, sat next to you was the life he was doomed to have, the life he'd rather never visited his house at all and was upset to have to touch. Jieun, as beautiful as she was, looked like hell to Hoseok and he made sure he had little to do with her as he possibly could. He took to admiring your profile as his angel spoke to his demons, calmly and kindly enduring the idle conversation about what you were to wear to the ball and listening to what Jieun had planned. You were a saint... a true saint. No one, man nor woman could compare.

"Feeling a little lovesick, Hyung?" Jimin murmured to his brother.

"Of course not." Hoseok lied. Jimin raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"Come on, you've got this look on your face. It's gentle and unsettling."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course, you don't – you can't see yourself. I've never seen you so soft, Hyung."

"Jiminie, I don't know what you're insinuating but honestly, there's nothing going on with me. Everything's as it always has been."

"Except you're actually sat with your family for breakfast rather than being inside Mother's hand maid."

"So, Prince Hoseok," your voice interrupted the brothers whispering and drew the attention of the room to you – something you certainly didn't intend on. However, Hoseok was awed by your ability to not let the sudden attention distract you from what you had to say. You were quieter than a queen should be, but even as an introvert you were still able to command the room. "Are you looking forward to the ball tonight?"

Hoseok usually told you the truth. "I am indeed." He lied. Even in the short amount of time you had known him, you knew that this wasn't the truth. You'd hoped there was some honesty in the words he spoke – you'd hoped that he'd make a reference to you attending the ball that night. But his silence went on a little longer than you anticipated, and you felt yourself growing more and more disappointed at the prospect. "I'm excited to be able to spend a night with the few people I hold dearest to me – new friends and old."

Oh.

There was what you wanted – exactly how you wanted it. His charm ever present, and his eyes bearing into you; almost going right through you. You felt exposed almost – heating up with each passing second his attention was on you. You had nowhere to hide or no way to shelter yourself from the intensity, and your breath became shallower and shallower with the racing of your heart. No person had ever had this effect on you – not even when you'd been upset with them – so what made Hoseok so different?

He caught you after breakfast during your routinely stroll around the palace gardens, suffocating you with his charismatic demeanour. You were quickly falling for him and this was worrying to say the least.

"How did you sleep last night, Your Majesty?" Hoseok asked you, his voice dripping with genuine kindness.

"I've told you, there's no need to be so formal."

"My mother would have me lynched if she heard me referring to you as ___."

"It makes me uncomfortable."

"I'm sorry. I'll try harder for you."

"Are you really looking forward to tonight?"

"Yes. I can't believe I'm saying such a thing, but I am. If not for the reason the ball was intended, but for the reason I'll be able to see you."

"You're seeing me now."

"Perhaps for the reason I can hold you then. Without the consequences."

"Hoseok."

"Your Majesty, please. Since you walked into my life everything has changed for me. I'm no longer scared of the future with you by my side."

"I'm married Hoseok, you too are to be wed - we can't."

"He doesn't have to know. No one does." He grabbed hold of your hands and forced you to look him in the eye. "Your Majesty... ___... I am hopelessly, undoubtedly, irrevocably in love with you. You're unlike any woman I've ever met including my own betrothed. I don't love her. I don't want to spend the rest of my life with her. I know you don't love your husband either. Why shouldn't we be happy? Why shouldn't we make time to love one another? Our futures need not be so bleak."

"Hoseok, the world works in your favour. You are allowed as many mistresses as you would like, you can father as many children as you see fit - there are no consequences for you. I would be lynched if the world found out I were carrying on with the future king of our neighbouring kingdom. I'd be punished while you were praised."

"___, please. Being without you – even in my own palace knowing you're a few feet away from me – makes it hard for me to breathe. I can only eat when you're with me and eating too, I'm sure I'd sleep better holding you in my arms. I'd rule better with you at my side, even if it was just a secret. With every fibre of my being, I adore you." You had no idea you were crying until Hoseok wiped a tear from your eye. "I would jump off that bridge under your instruction and fall to my death if it ensured your happiness."

"You shouldn't say such things."

"Why? It's the truth."

He leant forward to kiss you. Or was it you who leaned into him? You weren't exactly sure. All you knew is that your lips were so close to touching, his palms caressing your face while yours encased his hands. His breath tangled with yours as your eyes closed feeling a pull towards him you'd never felt with anyone else.

A throat clearing pulled you two out of the little world you created for yourselves, forcing him away from you with a harsh push only to discover Eunjae standing there staring at the two of you. Her eyebrows were raised, but there was no hint of condescension or berating in her eyes. Just a playful, mischievous glint and a small smirk on her face that told you "I've got your number".

"Forgive my intrusion, Your Majesty. Your Highness." She said politely.

"N-no intrusion Eunjae." You responded. "Is everything okay?"

"Your husband is looking for you, Ma'am. He is in the King's drawing room."

"Thank you, Eunjae." Without turning, without saying goodbye, you simply exhaled and composed yourself before walking away from the Prince, leaving him the gardens to watch you walk away. This would be the last time you rejected him in favour of your husband – that he vowed.