#royal scarf shrug

[triskhellion]

Anticipation

Chosen: Part 5 (Part 1, Part 4)

For @sterekdrabbles

Prompts: royal, scarf, shrug

M | 100w | mating bites | mating bonds | undressing

He lifted a hand to his throbbing mark, unsteady from the new and intense sensations coursing through him. His bondmate looked every inch the wolf he was, ravenous and poised to pounce in his royal blue Suitor's coat. He could feel Derek’s consuming desire. His elation.

Stiles smiled and took a deep breath, shrugging out of the pale green Awaiting robe. He untied and removed his drawers, throwing them alongside the unworn black Declination scarf, and crawled onto his bed. Fabric rustled and ripped behind him and when he turned to lie back Derek was right there.

Naked. Glorious. Daunting.

[goddess47]

Hand Made

For @sterekdrabbles February 2, 2024 prompts - royal, scarf, shrug

-----

"And... finished!" Stiles shrugged his shoulders to relieve the tension.

"Really?" Eli lit up.

Stiles held up the royal blue scarf. "What do you think?"

Eli took the carefully knitted scarf. "It's beautiful!" He looked up. "Is it okay to give it away?"

Stiles nodded. "That's what I made it for," he said. "It's yours to do with as you please."

Eli leaned in for a quick hug. "Thank you, papa!" He scampered off.

"He'll be sad about the scarf if he breaks up with that girl," Derek commented. "He's only a teen-ager."

"Meh. Part of growing up," Stiles replied.

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Hello lovely!! Would you ever do a part 2 to Bad Idea right? Maybe the IC finds out about reader and Eris? 👀👀

I had planned for Part 1 to be a drabble only but I loved your ask so much that it’s going to be a short series now! I present to you, part 2. Thank you for this fun request!

Bad Idea, Right? - Part 2

Eris x Reader/Azriel’s Daughter

Sleeping with a male your dad hates is fun… until you get caught.

A follow up to the drabble “Bad Idea, Right?”

Part 3

Warnings: 18+ for sexual content, language

Holy mother and all the bullshit gods my ancestors prayed to, I’m so royally fucked.

A necklace. A damned necklace, and my family’s overall inability to mind their own business, sent everything spiraling.

Nobody paid any mind to the jewelry I chose for Starfall until Amren set her eyes on the unique amber and gold hued necklace dangling from my neck - coveting the thing. Its unique jewels apparently something she’d never seen in her over 15,000 years of living.

Lucien, who had come with Vassa, Jurian, and Helion in tow, of course, overheard the conversation. With his wealth of knowledge and abundant need to be the biggest know-it-all in the room, Lucien chimed in that the gems came from the Autumn Court, typically only worn by the leading family and their closest affiliates. His brows furrowed with contemplation as he waived a hand toward my décolletage asking, “Which makes me wonder, where did you come across this piece?”

Damn it, Lucien.

And damn it, Eris. Leave it the prick to give me a gift that’s as much of a pain in my ass as he is.

Reading the look on my face, Lucien and Vassa’s son, my childhood best friend, Adish cut in- “Oh, I uh, I gave it to her for her birthday a couple of years ago. I’m surprised you two forgot.”

Lucien and Vassa looked to eachother in contemplation, not totally buying it, but not pressing further.

I mouthed a “thank you” to Adish before Amren pulled me back in to inspect the piece further.

Naturally, Uncle Rhys had step in at that moment - reusing the same joke that I have heard a hundred times since I was a child - Amren is a firedrake who will snatch the necklace right off me blah, blah, blah.

“It really is a lovely piece.” Aunt Feyre joined in, my mother, Aunt Nesta, and father with her. The three sisters inspecting it closely.

Holy shit, have these people never seen a necklace before?

I could have sworn that one of my shadows rolled it’s not existent eyes in agreement.

“Where did you get that?” Dad asked. “Apparently I need to keep it in mind for your mother and aunts for Solstice.”

“Oh, um, it’s from the Autumn Court, Adish gave it to me two years ago for my birthday.” I replied, innocently tracing a finger along the gems as I gave a forced smile.

It was then that my all-to-observant, spymaster jr., little sneak of a sister made her presence known. “No he didn’t! Adish got you a scarf from the continent that year.”

How the hell did this little shit remember these things!?

“Whatever, Azalea, it must have been a different year then.”

“No sissy! He never bought you a necklace - he bought you a bracelet, and two pairs of earrings, but never a necklace.”

Good gods. This child.

Rolling my eyes at my snoop of a sister, I coolly replied “Whatever, Azzy, I suppose my memory isn’t quite as good as yours.” Silently praying to whoever would listen that nobody pressed further. Dad’s shadows agitated but settled when my own shadows wound over to mingle with them.

Amren gave me a suspicious look that could only mean trouble - but fortunately kept her mouth shut. As the remainder of the group dispersed to interact with the crowd, Amren grabbed my arm.

“Be careful, girl. I know better than to tell you what to do, just… keep your wits about you.”

Her intense eyes locked with mine to which I shrugged the comment off. “I don’t know what you��re talking about.”

“I am not a fool, girl. I do not know you to be one either. Be careful.” the tiny fae chided as she sauntered off to find Varian.

Keeping a collected facade but needing some fresh air, I casually made my way toward a secluded balcony on the backside of the House of Wind.

Finally free of the crowd, I released all of the tension I’d been holding in, taking deep breaths in an effort of calming my nerves. I am an adult capable of making my own choices but… given the inner circles complicated history with Eris, and my fathers overall hatred of the male, I’d rather nobody know that we fuck each others brains out on occasion.

Frowning down at the necklace, I muttered curses to it that would make my mother, dear sweet Elain, keel over.

Too wrapped up in berating the jewelry, I didn’t notice the male behind me. I startled at the smooth voice cutting through the silence, his low tone dripping in lust. “Ah, little Shadowsinger, If you’d prefer a ring instead, I’m sure we could arrange that. Though I do say the necklace compliments your lovely assets quite well.” His eyes roved hungrily up and down my body, a primal gaze darkening those amber eyes and filled my core with heat. I nearly rolled my eyes back into my head as the intoxicating scent of mahogany and crackling fire filled my nostrils.

Regaining my wits and refusing to let him see how he effected me, I met those bedroom eyes with nothing but contempt. “Fuck off, Eris. Why are you here?”

He stepped closer. I stood my ground, no way was I going balk away from the challenge.

“Come now, little one, is that any way to speak to a High Lord? I was invited to the celebration tonight, as all of Prythian’s leaders were.”

Fair enough, but I wouldn’t let him win that easily. Waving him off, I commanded “Go find somewhere else to be a pain in the ass.”

Eris closed the distance, grabbing the wrist I had waived him away with. His head dipped down as his plush lips grazed the shell of my ear. His deep, sensual voice sent chills through me as he replied, “I can only promise pleasure when it comes to that beautiful ass, Y/N.”

Releasing my hand, Eris reached both hands around me, palms pressing into my ass as his fingers hitched my dress up to expose my thighs and barely clothed sex to the brisk evening air. In one swift motion he scooped me up, my legs instinctively wrapping around him. As his lips crashed into mine I bit the lower one just hard enough to draw blood before licking it away and kissing the hurt. His tongue then swooped into my mouth, battling for dominance against my own, a low growl escape his throat, reverberating through me.

Placing me on the balcony ledge, Eris situated himself between my spread legs, desperately palming at my breasts as I threw my head back, exposing the column of my throat to him. He lightly nipped down the length of my neck and my protruding collar bones before falling to his knees before me. His lust-filled eyes met mine as he cooed, “You could bring any male to their knees before your beauty, but this…” he pushed aside the lace thong, exposing me to him, “this gorgeous, dripping cunt belongs to your High Lord, and your High Lord only.”

His skilled tongue deftly swiped up my center, eliciting a moan from me. I looked down into his eyes - mesmerized by the amber hues peering at me from under his lashes. My fingers found purchase in his fiery red locks as I firmly stated, “I belong to no one and you are not my High Lord, Eris.”

His responding nip to my swollen clit drew a sharp gasp from me. Eris let out a satisfied hum in return as he resumed feasting like a starved male. Perhaps that’s what kept drawing me back into the bastards bed - his insatiable hunger fueled by that eagerness to please that only amplified with the calloused remarks I threw at him. Most females fell at his feet - throwing themselves at the chance to serve a High Lord. Whereas most males ran as far away as they could upon realizing that my father was the infamous Shadowsinger.

One of my shadows caressed the base of his neck, circling back around as to tilt his chin up. His needy eyes met mine again. “Fuck me, Eris.”

In an instant he was up, standing before me. Biting my lip, I clenched my thighs together at the sight of the incredibly evident arousal pressing against his trousers. He fumbled with the buckles on them, when suddenly a grating sound filled the air - the balcony doors flying open. “Sissy! Aunt Mor wants to see your neckl- oh wow, who is that!?”

Fuck me. This cannot be happening.

I jumped up, pulling my dress down before my little sister could see the exposed flesh.

I scrambled for words, voice cracking as I scolded, “She can wait, Azzy, just go back inside.”

It was too late though, as my father’s shadow that had been trailing her all evening had already reported back and before Eris or I could flee, my father, mother, Uncle Rhys, and Lucien winnowed onto the balcony.

————————————————-

Stay tuned for part three!

[quackquackcey]

Royal Red

Stiles always warms Derek up, body and soul.~ 🧣 (AO3).

For @sterekdrabbles 2/2/24 prompt: ‘royal, scarf, shrug’. 100 words. Rated G. Tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort.

Blood dripped from Derek's claws as Stiles stepped over the mauled bodies that lay around Derek.

Derek wondered what he would say—"Again?"

Maybe "You're beginning to scare me."

The latter was what Derek feared most.

But instead, Stiles wrapped a scarf around his neck.

Derek wanted to cry.

"Really?" he murmured.

Stiles shrugged. "Your alpha powers won’t protect you from the cold, Mr. Big Bad Werewolf."

"Yeah, they just give me bloodred eyes," muttered Derek. "For the bodies I kill."

Stiles pressed a kiss on Derek's lips, warm as ever, and smiled. "Royal red. For the lives you save."

[uniquevoidflowers]

Welp, I got a lot of brainrot for a LU AU so I'm dumping some writing here!

It's a royal au basically. (in a more modern setting ig)

Words: 2066

“Could you please, at least try to be nice to the nobles tonight?” Sun asked, braiding Legend’s hair. “It’s just for tonight, I promise.”

The Prince glared daggers at the ground but he agreed anyway. “They’re all so stuck-up.”

“I know. I don’t like them either.” Sun admitted. “However, we did invite someone I think you’ll enjoy meeting. You can spend time with her if you’d like.”

“Are you trying to set me up with someone?”

Sun laughed and shook her head with a fond smile. “Although, I heard from a certain someone that she’s quite the catch.”

“Whatever, Mom.”

The Queen finished braiding strawberry-blonde hair and stood up, dusting off her dress. “You’ve got awhile until then though. What are you planning to do with all this free-time?”

“I dunno.”

That was a lie. Legend knew exactly what he was going to do. Sun just raised a brow slightly, that smile still on her face. “Well, I’ll leave you to not know, then.”

“Thanks.” Legend said sarcastically.

“You’re welcome!” Sun left out the door, and the Prince grabbed a note, quickly scribbling down some off-handed explanation before changing and grabbing a bag.

“Again, Your Highness?” Warrior called, a smirk on his lips.

The Prince startled, nearly dropping the bag. “Yeah, so?”

“May I accompany you this time?”

“...Fine. Don’t be weird.”

“Whenever am I weird, Your Highness? I am as normal as they come.”

“You’re being weird right now. It’s Legend.” Legend stressed. “Now, follow me.”

Legend climbed out the window of his bedroom and turned his head to make sure the knight was following behind him. “Keep up!”

The knight in question rolled his eyes. The prince grinned and slid down the roof, before grabbing onto a ledge and lowering himself to the ground. He hurried out of someone’s way and waited patiently until Warrior was beside him. “Ugh, I should’ve gotten you to change. It’s not everyday a knight just walks in town.” Legend grumbled.

Warrior just took off his armour, a green tunic and brown trousers serving as clothes. He kept his signature blue scarf on though. Legend walked past hundreds of strangers, face low. “Am I going to meet these friends I keep hearing all about?” Warrior asked.

The prince shrugged. “We’ll see, I guess.”

The knight grumbled something under his breath, unimpressed. Legend just continued on his way until they came across a house. He knocked slightly. After a few moments the door opened. “Oh, it’s you!” Wind greeted, a grin on his face. “Legend’s here!”

“Miss me?” Legend smirked and ruffled the younger’s hair.

“I told you to stop doing that!” Wind protested. “I’m fourteen!”

“A baby.”

“You’re only like, three years older than me.”

“Still. It makes a difference, Wind.”

Suddenly, Legend was met with an armful of Hyrule, the kid hugging him tightly. “Wait, who’s that?” Hyrule asked, peering at the knight behind them.

“Oh that’s Warrior, he’s a friend. He wanted to come with.” Legend waved his hand around dismissively.

“Nice to meet you.” Warrior greeted.

“Let them come inside!” Green yelled.

Wind and Hyrule moved and the two guests came inside. “So who’s he really?” Hyrule asked, with a knowing glint in his eyes.

“My knight.” Legend informed. “He’s weird, like us, don’t let his politeness fool you.”

“You guys can sit down.” Green said. “Do you want anything, Legend? Water?”

“I’m okay.” Legend shook his head. “So, what kinda chaos happened while I was gone?”

“Not much.” Hyrule said sadly. “It’s been boring.”

“Well, it’s a good thing Legend brought me here.” Warrior said, in a joking tone.

“Oh, shut up.”

“Never, Your Highness.”

“I told you not to call me that!”

Hyrule rolled his eyes at the two bantering. “At least the new guy fits in.” Wind said, nudging Hyrule slightly.

“So, what are you doing today Ledge?” Hyrule asked before the two could banter any more.

“Oh, not much. Tonight there’s some sort of event. A lot of nobles are coming to pester me.” Legend scowled.

“Sounds fun.” Blue said sarcastically, from across the room.

“My Mom says there’ll be someone to hang out with me...and that I’ll like meeting but...I dunno.” Legend informed.

“Is it a girl?” Hyrule said with a teasing lilt to his voice.

“I think so?” Legend replied, uncertainly.

“It is. A princess, at that.” Warrior said, looking smug.

Oh, so he knows too? Legend thought.

“A princess? From where?” Wind asked, curiously.

The knight shook his head with a smile. “I’m not supposed to share that information.”

“Did my mother put you up to this?” Legend scowled.

Warrior just continued smiling. Legend cursed under his breath. “She did!”

He was 100% sure Sun and Warrior were scheming behind his back, and he knew he couldn’t do anything about it. “Where’s Vio? And Red?” Wind asked. “I thought they’d be down here.”

“Vio’s upstairs, being his usual self.” Green answered. “Red’s knitting something in his room, he probably didn’t hear us or something.”

There was a knock on the door.

Legend slinked over to the couch alongside Warrior, not wanting to be recognized. Green answered the door this time. “Hello?”

“A letter for you, sir.” Whoever was at the door, said and then the door closed shut.

“Weird.” Wind piped up. “They usually just leave it at the door.”

“It’s for Vio.” Green said, shrugging. “VIO, YOU HAVE A LETTER!”

The person in question came and took the letter. “Thanks. Did you have to yell?”

“Very necessary.” Green hummed.

Vio pulled the letter out and a smirk found its way on his face. “Don’t worry, it’s a friend.”

“Good. Who is it?” Green asked.

Legend let the two talk, and turned back to Hyrule who was sitting beside him. “Wanna go for a walk or something?”

“Heck yes.” Hyrule stood up.

Warrior followed them outside, after telling Blue where they were going. “You know, I’m not sure what job I should take.” Hyrule said after a moment. “I’m not really good at much.”

“C’mon, you’re good at plenty of things!” Legend insisted.

“Like what?”

“Reading, for instance.”

“...Okay, but---”

“But nothing. You don’t give yourself enough credit, Rulie.”

Hyrule ducked his head and the prince patted his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll be great at anything you pick.”

“...Okay.”

All of a sudden there was a clash of something metal and Legend spun around to see Warrior holding up against some figure in a cloak. “Nice reflexes, captain.”

“Stay back.” Warrior’s voice was cold. “Or I’ll make you.”

The cloaked figure merely chuckled. “Keep an eye on your friends. You wouldn’t want something to happen to them, right?”

Warrior pushed the blade off of the figure’s and continued to fight. Legend stood protectively over Hyrule, eyes darting everywhere in case someone else came. “What’s happening?” Hyrule whispered.

“I don’t know.” Legend murmured back.

Something grabbed the prince’s arm and Legend struggled but the grip was tight and unrelenting. “Ledge!” Hyrule gasped as someone pulled the prince away.

Legend saw the blade and paled. “Wars!”

Warrior turned his head back and his eyes widened slightly. “I’m coming!”

The knight kicked the cloaked figure to the ground and hurried to the prince. Legend gulped as the blade came closer to his neck. “Come closer, captain. See what happens.” The person restraining him taunted.

“Let him go.” Warrior demanded.

“Afraid of losing your job? This little prince will merely stand in our way later, so I’ll kill him. Unless, you think can stop me?” Legend could hear the words in his ears accompanied by heavy breathing.

Legend felt his blood run cold. Kill?

Warrior glanced at Hyrule before mouthing something and turning back to the person. “You still work with the people that betrayed you, Ghirahim?”

“Not with them. C’mon, I’m not that foolish. To tell you my real plans would be rather...idiotic shall we say, so if you expected me to reveal something you are very mistaken.” Ghirahim, apparently, said.

“If you won’t tell me your plan, tell me who you serve.” Warrior said.

“I think you know who I serve.” Ghirahim laughed. “Now, captain, do you have any last words for your Prince?”

The blade was pressed closer to Legend’s neck, and droplets of blood began to form. The prince was frozen, not daring to move a muscle. All of a sudden Ghirahim jerked and the blade cut Legend’s arm instead of his throat. Ghirahim’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he fell to the ground. Legend yelped, seeing the blood trailing across his arm. Warrior quickly approached, and grabbed a piece of fabric from his bag, putting it down on the wound. “We need to get back.” Warrior urged.

“What was that?” Legend asked, voice growing more high-pitched.

“I’ll explain later, kid. Right now we need to go before he wakes up.” Warrior grabbed Legend’s arm and began to run, Hyrule following close behind.

They hurried back to Hyrule’s house where Green yelped seeing the blood trailing behind them. “What the hell happened to you guys?” Blue asked.

“Ran into someone. Do you guys have anything we can use to stitch up the wound?” Warrior asked, desperately.

“Yes.” Green said quickly and rushed off somewhere.

Warrior helped stitch up the arm, and Legend looked away. That was the first time something like that happened when he went out. What scared him was these people knew Warrior and clearly, they hated each other. “Wars, please explain.” Legend said.

“Not right now. I need to finish these stitches.” Warrior murmured.

Legend recognized that as a deflection, but he knew not to press any further. He wondered who the cloaked person fighting Warrior was, and why Ghirahim wanted to kill him. “Here.” Green handed a roll of bandages once Legend’s arm was stitched up and it was wrapped up with the white bandages.

“How am I going to explain this to Mom?” He frowned.

“Tell her about this maybe?” Green suggested.

“No.” Legend said immediately. “I’ll think of something.”

“Well, be careful out there.” Hyrule demanded, still a little pale. “That was close.”

“Don’t worry.” Legend said, hugging him. “I’ll be fine. I’ve got Wars.”

Legend still trusted Warrior, after everything that happened. Warrior shifted and opened the door, peering outside. Legend stood up, and after getting tackled into a hug by Wind, he left with his knight. Warrior let him borrow his scarf, to hide his face. The prince could tell Wars was now on edge, as he was constantly pulling Legend closer to him and hurrying away. They made it back to the castle where, Warrior brought him through the front door of the castle and back to the prince’s bedroom. Legend sat down on his bed with a sigh. “Now, are you going to explain?”

The knight gave a nod. “Ghirahim is apart of a group that wishes to eradicate the Royal Family. We have encountered before, and...I thought I’d killed him. Seems like he made it out alive, though.”

“Well, have you told my parents yet?” Legend crossed his arms. “This is a pretty big deal.”

“They know about the group, and their intentions already. The King himself defeated their leader.”

“...Okay.”

“Hey, everything will be okay. I’m here to protect you, if they try at it again.”

“I know, I trust you.”

He didn’t like feeling helpless in a situation like that, vulnerable enough that he could get killed if no one was there to rescue him. “Your Highness!” A voice from the door came.

“Come in.” Legend called.

Someone came in. “Your mother has called for you, if you’ll meet her at the throne room.”

“Thanks.” Legend grumbled, standing up.

He left with Warrior, hurrying to the throne room. “There you are.” Sun greeted, a smile on her face. “Your note said you were practicing archery, but I didn’t see you at the archery grounds.”

“Sorry, I left quite a bit ago.” Legend shrugged it off. “What did you call me for?”

“There’s something I’d like to discuss. With both you, and Warrior.” Sun answered, a shadow crossing her face.

[just-another-busy-fangirl-writes]

Visiting, Sterek, 100w, general [AO3] @sterekdrabbles 2/2/24 (royal, scarf, shrug)

“This is ridiculous,” Derek muttered, “I’m an Alpha, not royalty.”

Stiles shrugged, accepting a drink from a beta who scurried away. They were in the sunroom at a neighboring Alpha’s house, the place feeling more museum-like than homely.

“Guess they’re… traditional?” Stiles offered, watching some betas working outside. It was still winter, but they weren’t even wearing scarves as they weeded the gardens. 

Derek’s arm wound around Stiles’s waist. “At least they’re not separating us. They know better than to take an Alpha’s mate away from him on another’s land.”

Stiles smiled, leaning into Derek to wait for their host.

[across-violet-skies]

the first installment of my Linked Company AU!!! it places the LU boys in the Lethal Company universe, where they venture into abandoned buildings to sell scrap to the company!!!

NO KNOWLEDGE OF LETHAL COMPANY IS NEEDED!!!! sure, it'll help, but you'll just be following their adventure as they learn how to work as a team and survive The Horrors!!

additionally, @hotcheetohatredwastaken is making her own version of this AU!!

and without further ado, the prologue!!!

An empty ship.

A man spawns in, grunting as he falls to one knee. He’s used to this by now, though, and he gets up quick.

One by one, more men spawn in the ship. Each of them falls to one knee in the same fashion as the first, recovering their footing in a matter of seconds.

“Welcome to your first day on the job. This is your very own auto-pilot ship where you will eat and sleep for the duration of your contract. [garbled] Make yourself at home. To complete the onboarding process, you will want to check the instruction manual and sign into your ship’s computer terminal. We trust you will be a great asset to the company.”

The first man sighs, mentally reciting the company’s message. He’s no stranger to the instructions at this point, but he wishes it could be changed up every once in a while.

Oh well.

He glances around the ship, only now noticing the sheer size of this team. Typically, he was deployed to teams of three or four, but this time, there were nine of them.

He clears his throat. “Okay!” He barks, voice rough and scratchy from the transport to the ship. “Everyone introduce yourself. I’m Link, codename Time.”

A young man with a royal blue scarf steps forward, eyeing Time with a hardened gaze. “I’m also Link. Codename Wars.”

“I’m Link too. Codename Wind.”

Time nearly does a double take. Wind is short, with pudgy cheeks that reveal his youth. His eyes sparkle, but the scars that litter his face and the exposed skin of his arms speak of his experience.

Time narrows his eyes. “Aren’t you a little young to be here?”

Wind scoffs, putting his hands on his hips as he wrinkles his nose. “Aren’t you a little old?” He shoots back.

Time snorts at that, chest heaving with silent amusement. “Fair enough, kid.” His eye scans the remaining six. “What about the rest of you? Sound off!”

A man with dark markings on his face steps forward. “Link. Codename Twilight.” His voice is low and gruff, and he backs off immediately after his short introduction.

“Wow, are all of us named Link?” A young man asks, chuckling nervously as he rubs the back of his neck. “I’m also Link. Codename Sky.” He waves a hand cheerfully as he introduces himself.

A newbie, Time notes. The company contracts haven’t beaten him down yet.

“Well, I’m Link too,” a shorter man butts in, crossing his arms as he defensively stares each of them down except for the employee behind him. “Codename Legend.” Legend shoves a thumb behind him, pointing at the young man with curly brown hair. “This is also Link. Codename Hyrule.” The boy with the curly hair waves shyly, offering a nervous grin.

“Does he speak?” Time questions, brow furrowing.

Legend shrugs. “Yeah. He goes nonverbal under stress though, so don’t bother him.” He huffs, scowling. “This job is stressful enough without any idiots giving him a hard time,” he mutters, wrinkling his nose.

Hyrule places a hand on Legend’s shoulder, immediately lightening his scowl. With the quiet boy’s calming touch, Legend quickly backs down, allowing their final two members to introduce themselves.

A boy who looks to be around the same age as Hyrule and Legend steps forward next. Scar tissue coats the entire left side of his face and down his neck. His hands and arms are covered with long sleeves and gloves. His hair is long, longer than any of the rest of them, but is tied back into a ponytail. “I’m Link,” he rasps, voice thick from disuse. “Codename Wild.”

Legend rolls his eyes, glancing pointedly at the last team member. “Let me guess, your name is Link too?”

It’s said with sarcasm, but the last employee just snorts in amusement. He’s the shortest of the bunch, but he doesn’t look quite as young as Wind. “Yep. Codename Four.”

“Four?” Sky repeats, frowning. “Strange codename. What’s the meaning behind it?”

Four’s eyes seem to change color under the fluorescent ship lights. “Why’s it matter?”

Sky considers for a moment, sighing. “Fair enough.” He glances around at the eight other employees. “I guess this is our team, huh?”

-> read the rest on ao3!

[heejayy]

Shuri U. || Stolen Heart

Warning • none

Genre • idk

Pairing • Shuri x fem!black Reader

A/n: I watched Aladdin and got inspired also it’s 5am and I don’t feel like proof reading 😭

Even in the most advanced country in the entire world everything wasn’t always peaches and cream for everyone. Struggling was still known to some people of Wakanda, and you were one of the few.

That’s why to keep from drowning in poverty you visit the heart of the city once a week to…borrow a few things.

“Oh wow that is a lovely ring where’d you get it from?” You asked admiring the beautiful ring that adorned the woman’s hands. She smiled at the compliment giving the ring a glance almost as if she forgot she was wearing it.

“Oh yes it was a gift from my husband, he’s one of the architects for the royal family” wheels starting turning in your head, architect for the royal family? They pay their employees very well, so it was definitely worth a pretty penny. You smiled to yourself thinking you hit the jackpot.

“Oh! Oh my head I- I- feel dizzy help me” you grasped on to the lady’s arm as you dramatically fell down to the ground.

“My dear are you alright?” She placed her hand on your arm trying to keep you steady. This was your chance, you grab her hand as if you need assistance swiftly said the ring off and stood back up.

“I am beyond embarrassed, I sometimes get these dizzy spells and black out for a moment. It’s really a curse” you frown holding your head. The stranger nodded as if she understood you.

“Oh my child you should get that checked” you agreed nodding “I should go now i have to pick up my siblings from school.” Without looking back you quickly made your way through the crowded streets making sure to get far enough before pulling the ring from your pocket. You admired it holding it up to the sun watching the ring glisten and glitter, it was lovely.

While making your way back home you passed a street vendor, he had lovely jade hair pins all lined across his table. He seemed distracted with a customer so you looked around as if you were browsing before sliding one into your bag. You turned to walk away before getting far enough someone screamed thief.

“Shit!” You ran down pushing and shoving people trying to make a get away. Jumping over carts and crates you take a look behind you trying to see how far the guards were and that’s when you bumped into someone. Taking a look up from the ground you recognize her, the princess.

“I- I-“

“Theif! My queen she’s a thief!” Great now Your definitely going to prison or worse banished, Wakanda doesn’t take petty crimes lightly. The princess reached her hand out to you, you hesitated before taking it.

“Follow my lead” she whispered pushing you behind her.

“Thank god queen you caught her, she is a thief she has stolen from me” the queen furrowed her eyebrows.

“That is a bold assumption to make, can you prove it?” The man nodded pointing towards your bag.

“Check her bag” She looked around towards you with her hand out, you huffed pulling the bag over your head handing it to her.

“What did she steal?” She quizzed looking through it.

“She stole my jade hair pin, she has to pay” the more he spoke the more angrier he became. He stepped forwards ready to attack you but she moved in front before he got too close.

“You need to calm down, I don’t see a jade hair pin anywhere” she sternly spoke staring the man down. As if he almost forgot who he was speaking to he apologized taking a step back.

“Sir I don’t see a jade hair pin the only thing she had in this bag is a sketchbook, charger and loose change” your head snapped to her confused on why she didn’t mention the silk scarf, golden pair of earrings and not last but least the jade hair pin. You attempted to peek over her shoulder but she close the bag shoving it it back into your arms.

“See no hair pin” she shrugged, the man eyed you annoyed before waving his hand in the air.

“But she-“

“Are you calling me a liar?!” The man flinched at her voice cowering away.

“Bast just keep the damn thing you poor heathen” you rolled your eyes at his name calling, you were used to it.

As the man walked away you slowly back away from the princess in attempting run a firm hand gripped your shoulder. Damn it.

“Where do you think you’re going sticky fingers?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking abo-“ she pulled the hairpin from her pocket waving it in your face. Your eyes bucked following the hair pin as she taunted you with it, you checked in your bag and it was definitely gone.

“You’re not the only slick one” she smirked.

“How did you-“

“I’ve been watching you, I saw you steal that necklace last week, those earrings and I watched you steal this hair pin” your chest began to tighten, you were definitely getting in trouble she just might’ve wanted to save you from the public embarrassment of it all.

“I’m so sorry my queen I just…” you trailed off as your eyes began to water.

“Save the crocodile tears you are not in trouble” you smack your lips rolling your eyes as you wiped your tears, what a brat you thought.

“well you are not in trouble if you do as I say” she grabbed your hand pulling you into an empty side road out of public view.

“I’ve had my eye on you and you are interesting, you seem strong, smart, you are quick on your feet, and your sly which are many characteristics a war dog needs-“

“Wait war dog!? My queen what on earth are you talking about?” She huffed taking a step closer and you took one back.

“A spy y/n you would make a great one with a little training, we are in need of them” she knew your name?

“Why on earth would you want a poor peasant to be a spy for Wakanda? Wait and I thought you didn’t do the whole recruiting thing” She slightly raised her head clasping her hand in front of her.

“Why not? Are you not a citizen of Wakanda? You want to protect your country right? And you have great potential, would you want all of that to go to waste?” For the first time in your life you were stumped. You couldn’t believe the queen was asking you to be a spy, it seemed unreal almost as if she was teasing you with wealth.

“I don’t know what to say” she didn’t look happy with your answer but she took it.

“Fine I’ll give you three days to think it over, I’m telling you y/n this will be a great opportunity for you” she began to walk away leaving you with a million questions.

“Oh and meet me near the bridge next to the river tribe on the third night to to tell me your answer and that’s when you’ll get this back pretty girl” she winked shaking you the hairpin you stole.

“What in the hell just happened?” you whispered to yourself letting your body lean against the brick wall.

Shuri’s Masterlist

©heejayy 2023 — any reposts or translations of my works outside of tumblr are strictly prohibited unless granted permission 🤍

[the-amber-fox]

AO3 Wrapped

How many words have you written this year? 143.349 published on AO3. Quite a lot unpublished. Quite a lot for other things.

How many works did you publish this year? 10

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)? I think it’s One, two, three, four, five, sex on my mind aka sex shop au. This was such a ridiculous idea and we executed it with a passion and fun level that just made it irresistibly fun.

What work of yours has the most hits?

As this was the year of the red white and royal blue movie astoundingly the one fic I wrote for the fandom, Midnight Icecream, won by nearly double the hits than my others.

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected? Sex shop au. Normally people comment less on E-rated fics.

Favorite title you used? Nothing here to fear.

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? Nothing here to fear is from a Tori Amos song called Wednesday Also Take Me on is naturally from A-Has Take on Me. The Prince and the Popstar had a lot of lyrics and artists too. Check out the playlist for this one.

Pairing you wrote the most for this year?/ Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? Wilmon

What work was the quickest to write? I think You’re the cutest Jailbird I have ever seen was extremely fast.

What work took you the longest to write? The Prince and the Popstar, because me and the lovely @pagegirlintraining were just insanely busy.

How many WIPs do you have in your docs for next year? Wednesday AU and half an idea about Burlesque style barkeeper Wille.

What’s your longest work of the year? The Prince and the Popstar

What’s your shortest work of the year? Take me on

What WIP are you taking into next year with you? Wednesday AU. I promise I am going to finish it one day.

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag? Alternative Universe

Your favorite character to write this year? Simon as Wednesday probably.

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year? Wilmon all the way to the end baby. Let’s see if we need fix-it’s after season 3.

Which work of yours have you reread the most? I do not reread my own work in general. But I reread comfort pics like Oh Christmas Tree by @ishotforthestars.

How many kudos in total did you get this year? 2.983

Which work has the most comments? This year The Prince and the Popstar.

Did you do any collaborative works this year? I wrote four amazing fics with @pagegirlintraining and one lovely fever dream of a collab with @ishotforthestars.

Did you write any gifts this year? Yes, I wrote five: One, two, three, four, five, sex on my mind for @ishotforthestars Love is everything, stupid for @girls-are-weird Midnight icecream (Red, white and royal blue) for @rmd-writes Take me on for @pagegirlintraining Slipping’ into Christmas for @piebingo

Did you receive any gifts this year? Yes three lovely ones: Christmas Basket by @tuiiii En-Garde by @girls-are-weird Killing me softly (WIP) by @pagegirlintraining and @ishotforthestars

What’s your most common category? m/m

What do you listen to while writing? This might sound weird but it totally depends on my mood and what I am writing: sometimes I do listen to music, sometimes I even have dedicated playlists. But sometimes I listen to a movie from the genre I am writing or to old John Oliver episodes…

Favourite work you wrote this year? I have to name two, I can’t chose. It’s either The Prince and the Popstar or Sex Shop AU.

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

“Simon, we are an inclusive group. It’s an adult queer romance book club, I doubt that anything you are wearing could–” Wille trails off with a splutter and stares at him as Simon opens his coat and shrugs out of it. Simon doesn’t know if he should feel self-conscious or proud that he made an obvious man of words lose them with cutout tights and a glittery mesh top under his big, violet fleece scarf. It really does leave very little to the imagination, he thinks to himself as he unwraps the fleece. Wille clears his throat, squeezes out “I’ll get you a hoodie,” and turns on his heel to speed walk to the other direction of the shop. 

29. Biggest surprise while writing this year? How well all four coops with @pagegirlinwriting went and how much better of a writer it made me. It challenges you if you have to keep up to another excellent writer.

[painsandconfusion]

Back To Your Roots

With You - Part Fourteen

(tw: chemical burns, noncon haircut, yandere, domestic abuse, kidnapping) [Previous | Masterpost | Next]

Robin’s hair was red.

At least, it was right now. Ida assumed, anyway. She changed it a lot. Never quiet. Never simple. Never the same for more than a week at least in style, or a month in color. And she’d only had Red for two weeks now.

It was only a couple weeks ago that Robin finally convinced Ida to dye their hair. 

“A little something special - to showcase who you are and how you want the world to see you. Not just how you were born,” she’d explained to them.

Ida had been wanting to for a long time. They’d stared at the midnight blue dyes on endless hours of scrolling in bed, and brushed off when Robin asked if they wanted to dye it. 

“Nah,” they’d hummed, tucking their phone onto the nightstand. “It would stain my hair.”

“So?” Robin just curled up closer. “Then you can bleach it or dye it again. It’s your hair. You can do whatever you want with it.”

“..it’s too much upkeep. I’ll stick with what I have.” They’d pressed a kiss to Robin’s hand, and that was the end of that conversation.

On the other hand, Oren always loved their hair. Loved it long and straight and white as fallen snow. “That’s what makes you special,” he’d said. “It’s something unique about you - so few people look like you, why would you ever want to change that?” He’d kissed their lips, and that was the end of that conversation. 

His words must have still haunted them, even years after they’d left his house, running off into the night and leaving him with a knife in his gut within crawling distance of his cellphone.

It had taken almost five whole years until Robin eased Ida into the idea of making their hair their own again. Not a trophy or a reminder of how they were so different from everyone else. Just…theirs. Nothing special. Theirs. 

The hairdresser was so gentle and sweet. She’d massaged shampoo into their hair and chattered endlessly with Robin as she worked. She’d tried to pull Ida into conversation, but Ida shrugged off most of it, more than content to listen to Robin chatter about their cat and her books and the newest cardigan she’d found at the thrift store. Neon green, this time. A ‘perfect match’ for her navy skirt and royal purple scarf.

Ida so often wished they could be like her. Wished they would dare to wear bright, crazy colors and outfits made up of seven different styles. Bold enough to change their color weekly and chatter with hairdressers. 

But..Ida was changing. They’d put a little color into their life now. 

They’d let someone else touch their hair now. 

They were outside and talking to other humans, and even getting a small strip over their left ear shaved away so they could pull the midnight blue and silver streaked mass off to one side. 

It was so recent that it barely felt like a memory. It felt as it were still happening. That Oren’s fingers in their hair were the hairdresser’s. That his humming chatter was local gossip. That the aches that puckered across their flesh was just their imagination. 

Oren’s voice made quick work of that breach to reality. 

“You know, I’m not sure why you did this. I just really don’t understand,” he muttered, fingers tracing over their part where silvery white had started to grow underneath the midnight blue, pushing it up and out of the way. 

“It’s not you at all. Were you trying to look like someone else??” 

Ida stared at the kitchen wall, numb and hollow and silent. 

His hands slid down their jaw and gripped it gently, tilting their head back until their eyes met his. “..that wasn’t a rhetorical question, dove.”

Ida’s stomach twisted as their eyes searched his. Trying to gauge how much danger was behind those words. 

“..I wasn’t trying to look like anyone else.”

Oren frowned, thumbs brushing down their cheeks. Resting at the top, then sliding down again. Again and again and again. Petting them like a cat.

“Then why did you do it?”

Ida’s face pinched slightly. Of course he wasn’t going to go long without mentioning their hair. Why did they think they’d be able to get away with that? As if he just wouldn’t notice that their hair was blue now. 

“..I…I don’t know.”

Oren sighed, leaning down over the back of the chair to press a lingering kiss to their forehead. “Precious thing,” he murmured. Nuzzling a little. “You don’t know anything when I’m not around, do you?”

Ida’s stomach was starting to churn now. Eyes squeezing gratefully shut. They’d take his lips over his eyes. Gladly.

Fingers curled in, almost bruising at the underside of their jaw as Oren’s breath warmed against their forehead. Ida strained, back aching at the angle as they squirmed away from bruising fingertips.

They hadn’t answered. Right-

“..no-”

Evidently that was good enough. His fingers unwrapped slightly, smoothing up and through their hair again. “We’re going to fix this.” With one more kiss to their forehead, he pulled back, taking their hand to guide them to standing.

Ida chewed on their lip, but followed as he wanted. Anywhere he wanted. 

Evidently that was out of the room. The floorboards seemed to creak a little louder than usually as they crossed the foyer and moved up the steps. Into the bathroom.

..that wasn’t figurative, was it. He was going to get rid of the blue. Get rid of what tiny piece of Robin they had here. 

Ida’s eyes burned as he dragged a chair to the sink, turning it around. He guided them to it. 

Ida didn’t fight it. 

How could they? 

There wasn’t any stopping this, so why bother. 

They just sat, hands curled around each other in their lap. Stomach in knots.

Oren turned on the tap, fingers pressed to their forehead to tilt their head back over the sink. Ida was good. They followed the push and slumped down in the seat so their head rested on the edge of they porcelain, hair ready to shift into the stream. 

Oren pressed a quick kiss to their lips as he tugged their hair out into the bowl and started thoroughly wetting it. “This will be good. You’ll start feeling so much more like yourself again. Maybe you’ll start singing, hm?” He took a moment to dip and nuzzle their nose with his. 

So, he wanted them singing more.

Ida took a note of that, letting their eyes close against the water and the proximity and the light in their eyes. “..maybe,” they breathed. Staying quiet. 

They tried to think back to that little barber shop. 

Tried to feel Robin’s hand holding theirs. 

They let the world slip away, and let themself believe, if only for this moment, that the hands in their hair were that hairdressers - Ida couldn’t stop kicking themself for forgetting her name-

They imagined the radio playing crackling, distant music - a song they’d heard a million times but never remembered the words to. Country. Warm and upbeat and nostalgic. 

Robin’s voice. Janet Finch plots debated, and local gossip. Not Oren’s soft humming. Not his hands. Not the smell of bleach too strong for this to be the hairdresser’s. 

Tin foil. That was familiar. 

Oren tore it with his teeth, wrapping lumps of hair up in the stuff before tilting them up in the chair. A washcloth dabbed at the drips that moved down their neck.

This was it. There wasn’t any stopping it now. Even if they ran and screamed and rinsed it away, the bleach had plenty of time already to damage the midnight blue that Robin had to painstakingly supported / pestered them into getting. 

Ida could see her face in the darkness when their eyes were closed. Her little hands poking and prodding and fretting with how the fresh lockes laid. 

Gentle. 

Simple and kinda, yet bubbling with excitement and compliment.

But that was then. And this was now.

Ida’s face pinched, eyes finally opening again to look up at Oren. As the world pressed back to the scent of pine and bleach and citrus, Ida’s scalp started to tinge. Started to scratch and burn as if hair was being ripped out at the root. 

Their hands lifted, distress on their face as they reached for the foil - only to be caught in Oren’s.

“Don’t touch it, it needs to sit.”

Ida felt a whine press from their throat, hands pulling against Oren’s. “..O-..Oren, it…it burns-”

He shushed them, leaning in to press a kiss to their nose. “It won’t take long. I don’t want you half green now just because it’s uncomfortable.”

Tears brimmed at Ida’s eyes as they started pulling against him in ernest. “N-no it- it’s -ssomethign’s wrong this isn’t right-”

Oren’s jaw set. Fingers tightened around their wrists until bones shifted under his grip. A pressure that promised blooming bruises by tomorrow. “Don’t. Don’t lie to me. It’s already going to be ruined with how much I’ve done with it now. It’s not like you can save it.”

The tears slid hot down their face as they shriveled under his grip. “Ore, please-I-Im nnot lying - it- it hurts Oren please-”

Oren’s lips just pinched into a thin line. “It’s only going to take a few more minutes. Just relax.”

Ida’s head shook, pulling against him again. “O-ren please-”

Oren groaned, letting go of one of their hands to reach up to the foil. “Just chill, it’s n-” He stopped, frowning. Touching the foil. Again. “..why’s it so hot-?”

Ida just dissolved into sobs, free hand now clutching at his shirt. Some unknown ghost was ripping their hair off by scalpy bits, shoving flame at the tears to cauterize it. It flickered and tingled and screamed at them in a cacophony of sensation and warnings. “Ore- pl-lease-”

Oren finally let go of their other hand, shoving the foil off. 

It splat into the sink easily. What should have freed them left nothing dangling down to touch their neck - even at this angle. 

“..fuck,” he muttered, faucet turning on again. “Head back again, love - I’m gonna rinse this out.”

That command, they had no problem following. They shoved themself toward the water, begging it to put out the fire - even if Oren’s fingers on their scalp burned, the water soothed it and helped shove away the worst of the pain. 

“..didn’t even take out half the fuckin’ color,” he grumbled, scrubbing at their scalp until Ida was crying fresh again. 

They caught a glimpse of the foil as it dropped into the trash can, long strands of blue and white flickering through the air before falling out of view. 

..how much was gone???

Their hands pressed over their face, shielding their eyes and stifling their sobs into muffled shadows of what they could be. 

They held still. 

They were good.

They didn’t move besides shifting as per his instruction as he shoved out the last of the chemical, dried their hair, and fretted with it, trying to coax what was left to frame their face. 

Ida couldn’t look at him - they certainly couldn’t look in the mirror. 

There was a long silence as he stared at them. 

“..I’m just gonna shave it. You didn’t need it, anyway. It’ll grow back fresh and white and perfect.”

..what were they supposed to say to that. 

Nothing.

They were supposed to say nothing. 

They just trembled a nod, face still tucked safely into their hands. A kiss pressed to their knuckles, and he started moving. 

They held still. Listening to him opening the drawer. To the chord unwinding. To the plug clicking into place. To the soft electric hum. 

They whimpered, but didn’t move as the teeth of the razor scraped across furious scalp, rippling burning pain down their spine. They pulled their legs up, arms wrapping around them. 

They held still. 

They were quiet.

They were good.

They didn’t move or breathe more than necessary as piece after piece fell down around them and to the ground. 

They’d probably be the one to clean them up later. 

It barely took a minute. Then it was gone. 

Everything was gone.

“Go on, dove. You can look now.” A hand slid over their hair, roaming over the half inch strands and ghosting over burns they didn’t have to see to know they were there. 

Ida looked. They looked if only to appease him.

A stranger stared back at them through the glass. Eyes red and white from crying. Hair hacked down to a patchy remnant of what remained. The white strands were so thin, they barely seemed there at all. 

Oren’s shirt. 

Oren’s home. 

Oren’s dove.

They turned, pressing their face into him. Escaping their own reflection. 

Oren cooed soft laments as he scooped them up, keeping their face tucked into him as he carried them out of the bathroom. “It’s all done now. It’s all done and you did so good for me, dove.”

They clung to him even after he set them down on the bed, muffled sobs curling into his shirt even further than their fingers - their entire self buried in him. Wishing he could make the rest of the world go away. At least for a moment. 

Oren was good. He obeyed them as they did him. He moved easily and smoothly, pulling them both onto the bed and moving blankets up and over Ida so they wouldn’t have to let go of him or even look up. He cradled them close, rocking back and forth a little as he pressed kisses to the edges of the burns. “It’s all done. All done now.”

This time, Ida couldn’t bring themself to pretend it was Robin’s arms holding them.

He’d never be her.

[Previous | Masterpost | Next]

(tags: @prisonerwhump @whumpawink @paleassprince @distinctlywhumpthing @kesskirata @wormwriting @batfacedliar-yetagain @paranoiaxagent @siren-of-agony @lwkshrav @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whumpworld @bandages-andobsessions  @pinkieglitterheart  @whumpasaurus101  @shameless-dumbass @darlingwhump @whumpy-catfish)

As always, just lmk if you want to be added or removed from any tag lists!

If anyone knows where heathen-whump wibbly-wobbly-whump hold-back-on-the-comfort and mable-donut went please tell :(

.

This is the color Ida has(d), by the way-

It's shorter and thinner, but that exact same color and fade.

[honey-climb]

It'll be a Ball

Characters: Hettie Cutburn (Healing Coven Head)/Vitimir (Potions Coven Head)

Rating: Teen and Up

Tags: Requited love, Idiots in love, Crushes, Mild Gore (in reference to the vague description of a cadaver in the third bit), but that's what romance is really all about: unethical experiments with the girl you crush on, also non-sexual putting your fingers in someone's mouth

Word count: 5k

Description:

The royal ball looms close as Vitimir struggles to ask Hettie out.

Read on AO3!

So absorbed in his work sitting at his desk, Vitimir found it easier than usual to block out all external stimulus. He focused on his piles of papers and notes and his various tubes and beakers, all displaying different colours. As he scanned an ancient text, the margins rotten and frayed, he ignored the consistent knocking at his office door.

If it were a real emergency, his unwanted guest would soon give up and find a more readily available headwitch. Vitimir exchanged the text for a small tin, which he carefully unscrewed the cap of. Beautifully fragrant dried herbs greeted him.

Beyond him, the office door opened. Sturdy footsteps entered, annoying Vitimir, but not enough to make him glance up.

“Headwitch Vitimir? Coven Scout Captain reporting, by direct order of Emperor Belos.”

Heavy boots crossed the floor, kicking and crinkling papers as they went.

Vitimir stayed focused on his work. He pinched a thimbleful of the herbs between two black painted nails. He assessed his selection with narrowed eyes, before bringing them over the lip of a tall beaker holding bright blue liquid.

A soft parcel dropped on the desk. His focus broken at last, Vitimir paused and glanced up.

“...Whassthis?” Vitimir mumbled, hardly offering the Captain his entire attention.

The Captain crossed their arms. They glared down at Vitimir with an almost bored distaste behind their mask.

“A formal invitation from Emperor Belos. He’s hosting a ball and inviting the Isles.”

That caught more of Vitimir’s attention. He pinched his brows together, snarling softly underneath his scarf and wide brimmed hat. He retracted his hand and returned the herbs to their tin. Only a small portion of a leaf fell into the beaker.

“I don’t have time for this. No one does.” Vitimir huffed. As the herb collided with the liquid, the potion boiled and exploded with a puff of bitter smelling smoke. Unfazed, Vitimir grumbled, “At least those of us who do work around here, anyway.”

The Captain coughed and waved their hand in front of their mask. Once the air cleared, they leaned forward to tap the envelope on Vitimir’s desk.

“Read the invite. You’ll find that attendance is mandatory, Headwitch. Failure to comply will lead to punishment at Emperor Belos’ discretion.”

The practiced, almost monotonous edge to the Captain’s voice lead Vitimir to believe that they’d already recited this part a few different times. Vitimir wondered how many headwitches also expressed a similar distaste to the frivolity.

Annoyed as he was, Vitimir still snatched the envelope from his desk. He hooked his nail under the seal and ripped it methodically open.

“What a waste of time...” Vitimir uttered.

The Captain shrugged. They cleared their throat loudly. “You said it, not me. But he wants all the headwitches there to leave a good impression.”

Vitimir scanned the text of the letter. Fancily typed on crisp paper, with a golden boarder and the Emperor’s Coven sigil stamped on it. All Vitimir saw in it, despite its beauty, was a shitty work party chock-full of awkward, unavoidable social interactions and small talk. If Vitimir wanted to endure such torture, he’d check himself into the dungeon with Warden Wrath, or head to Terra’s for high tea.

“...If you want my opinion,” the Captain said, having dropped the more formal edge to their voice. Vitimir casted them a curious, narrowed eye glance. “Treat it like a day off. Drink. Be merry. Invite a date to share it with.” The Captain shrugged again. “Why not? If the old fart is forcing you to be there, you might as well make the most of it.”

“Rrrrr,” Vitimir mumbled. Under his scarf, his cheeks flushed a hot teal. “I got it. Yer dismissed.”

The Captain gave a half-hearted stance and salute to Vitimir, before they turned and left.

A quick glance to the clock, and Vitimir grumbled to himself again. “Rrrrr.” Clearing his desk entirely was not an option; Vitimir arranged everything important into a pile and swept them up. Awkwardly he balanced a fine collection of papers and glass potion bottles in his arms. Then he exited his office, crinkling the same discarded papers that the Captain had on the way in.

Vitimir crept through the halls, accompanied only by the sound of his clicking talons and his thoughts.

Invite a date... The thought made Vitimir’s mouth dry. What was he, a schoolboy? There was no time for dating or social mingling while you were the headwitch of a coven. He had more important things to worry about, and beside—who would lower themself enough to want to go with him, anyway?

Vitimir would say that his friends were few and far between. His rough exterior and lack of social skills often left him isolated, which was fine, Vitimir enjoyed that mostly. He was close with a handful of witches under him in the Potions coven, but nothing like that . He wasn’t even sure if that would be allowed. As far as people outside the coven, that was a bust, same for the other covenheads.

But then again, there was Hettie Cutburn.

Vitimir flushed thinking about her.

They were... Close. Close enough, anyway. They spoke before and after meetings quite often, and Hettie had recruited Vitimir’s help on a personal project she worked on during their downtime. Could he consider her a friend? He’d hesitate to say it aloud first, but inside he felt it.

Maybe he even felt something a little bit more than just ‘friendship’, too.

Vitimir couldn’t entirely explain it. Hettie was beautiful, but the word didn’t seem to do her enough justice. Maybe it was the juxtaposition of her being. She was tall, broad, impossibly strong—yet graceful and precise while holding a scalpel and forceps. She had an unexpectedly light and melodic voice, even when reading off the clinical symptoms of Chlamydia. Her smile , so bright and brazen while she worked at stitching up a fellow’s massive abdominal cavity wound.

The halls Vitimir crept opened up into a large lobby of sorts. A group of witches stood by chatting. However, lost deep in thought, Vitimir saw little except the carpeted floor in front of him.

The word ‘love’ felt like an iron weight tugging Vitimir’s tongue down into his stomach. What he experienced towards Hettie had to be different—admiration, probably. Infatuation most certainly. But how could you not be completely absorbed in her while she commanded a roomful of surgeons like an army general with her squadron—

Vitimir’s talon caught on the slightly ruffled rug underfoot. He stumbled and pitched forward with a startled yelp.

Reality came crashing back then as hard and violent as the castle floor. Vitimir’s knees and elbows took the brunt of the fall, graciously saving his long nose. However, the scrolls bounded everywhere and the potions shattered as they evaded Vitimir’s grasp. A thick cloud of noxious smoke arose from the broken jars, enveloping him.

Disoriented, Vitimir coughed. The fumes, though he tried not to breathe them in, made his head spin. Above the cloud rose the sound of snickering laughter from various voices. Vitimir’s heart sunk, embarrassment lighting inside him.

Suddenly he truly did feel like a schoolboy again, lost in the halls, desperately trying to find his way while the popular kids laughed at him. Strange, awkward Vitimir, who fell flat on his face.

With his mind rushing, Vitimir dug into his pocket for a potion of invisibility; at least then he could escape with some dignity.

Then a voice—a beautiful, light, familiar voice—scolded, “You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

A hand parted through the potion smoke. It stretched out towards Vitimir, clad in a white disposable glove. Vitimir almost choked on his breath.

Hettie’s face came shortly into view, emerging through the smoke as though she were an angelic vision. She pursed her lips together into a worried frown, the only part of her expression visible through her uniform.

“Are you alright, Vit?”

Faced with this towering beauty, Vitimir eloquently responded with a noise as though the air was being let out of him. “Aaarrg.”

“Excuse me?” Hettie asked, tilting her head.

Vitimir’s face exploded into a bright teal blush.

The potion cloud dissipated. Hettie stared confused and worried at Vitimir, thinking perhaps that he’d hit his head. Vitimir stared back like it was his first time seeing another witch. Beyond them, the small gaggle of previously-scolded Healing Coven witches stared just as baffled, sporting various degrees of amusement.

Words continued to evade Vitimir. “Er,” was the only sound he could make. Though, in an act of mercy from the Titan, Vitimir’s body moved. He reached out and gingerly took Hettie’s gloved hand. Nerves sparked through him as her fingers clasped around his. She pulled him back up onto his feet like he weighed nothing; Vitimir feared that his weak knees might give out under him. Thankfully, they stayed intact.

“Err... Thank you.” Vitimir finally managed to mumble.

For a long second their hands stayed clasped. When Vitimir realized, he flushed even hotter and quickly took his hand back.

“You’re welcome.” Hettie replied. She gave a smile—that big, beautiful smile that made Vitimir want to melt. “Be more careful next time. You could hurt yourself being so clumsy.”

Hettie reached out. Vitimir flinched on instinct; she gently took the brim of Vitimir’s crooked hat and adjusted it. Satisfied, she grinned wider.

“I don’t want to see you in my office with a broken nose any time soon. Especially not before Belos’ ball.”

The ball. Oh, damn, the ball. Vitimir’s head spun.

Hettie was right here, he could invite her now. It could be so easy. He just needed to move his lips, and say the words.

But he stayed silent. No sound would escape. Even when Hettie knelt down and began collecting his discarded things, Vitimir couldn’t move. He was petrified in place. Chewing on sand would have been more pleasant than how he felt now.

“Speaking of,” Hettie continued. She placed the scrolls into Vitimir’s arms. “Are you planning to invite anyone with you?”

Vitimir’s heart rate spiked into full-on panic. Sweat poured down his ashy skin.

Say the words! Now! Now, Vitimir! Say them!

“I’mnotsure,” is what Vitimir said instead. He hesitated. “Ihavetogo. Goodbye.”

Vitimir hightailed it out of there before the embarrassment could get any worse. Hettie didn’t try to stop him—perhaps too stunned to speak then—and only watched as Vitimir ran, followed by the giggles of the Healing Coven behind him.

Once he was far enough away, Vitimir found a secure supply closet, locked himself inside, and screamed into his scarf until his voice was hoarse.

—30—

It took a fair amount of internal back and forth, but eventually Vitimir decided that he would try to ask Hettie out again. With more preparation this time, surely he could do it.

Slinking through the Healing Coven sector of the castle, Vitimir followed closely behind the Healer who greeted him at the front. The walls were a sanitized white tile all around and smelled faintly of bleach. Vitimir needed to squint to tolerate the bright lights.

“Headwitch Cutburn has mentioned you,” the Healer said. She walked with her hands suspended at her chest and lightly clasped. She had a sharp, unnerving smile. “You come up in conversation every now and again, I mean. I reckon it’s about time that you came to see us.”

“Rrr.” Vitimir mumbled. He tugged down the brim of his hat, hoping to block out the worst of the light. “Only good things, I hope.”

The Healer tilted her head back and forth slightly, then she turned her wide smile to Vitimir. With her eyes covered, her smile had no warmth; if anything, she looked like a snake that was preparing to swallow its prey whole. Vitimir bristled slightly.

“Good things? Yes. Yes, you could say that.”

Then she turned away again, leaving Vitimir with more questions than answers. Before he could ask any of them, the Healer swept up to a door. She knocked thrice in rapid succession, then let herself in.

“Headwitch Cutburn?” She practically sang. “I brought your next patient for his physical, the Potions headwitch.”

Vitimir poked around the Healer like a child peeking through his mother’s legs.

Hettie’s office was meticulous, the polar opposite to his own. The floors sparkled; the walls were clean and sparse with a few framed documents. Cabinets were lined with floating organs and specimens in murky jars, all neatly labelled. Her desk was tidy with decorative models displaying the inner workings of a witch’s anatomy.

And then behind it all sat Hettie. She glanced up at the Healer’s words, her square shoulders jumping. A pause, and then she grinned widely.

“Excellent. Thank you, Viridiana.”

The Healer flashed Hettie a thumbs-up, then disappeared again through the door, leaving Vitimir suspended there awkwardly. He jolted as the door slammed shut behind him.

Hettie swept her hand out, motioning Vitimir in.

“Hello, Vit. Come in. Don’t be shy.” She flashed him a smile. “I don’t bite.”

Vitimir’s weak knees shuffled forward. He deposited himself into a stiff plastic chair across from the desk.

“Did you forget that your physical was today, Vitimir?” Hettie flipped open a file. She scanned it briefly, tracing her fingers over the pages.

“Err, not exactly—”

“I hope you weren’t trying to avoid me.”

Hettie gave him a teasing smile. To it, Vitimir’s heart skipped a beat. He thought he might choke on his tongue as his cheeks went aflame.

He buried his face into his scarf and curled up slightly in the uncomfortable chair. “No. No. Busy, busy, always busy—”

“You work too hard.” Hettie commented. She snapped the file shut, before setting it aside. “You need to slow down once in a while. What good is a coven without their headwitch?”

She rose and came around the desk.

Sweat pooled on Vitimir’s brow and his palms. Hettie towered over him normally, and now sitting he felt positively puny. Frozen in place, all he could do was stare.

“Could you remove your hat for me?”

Vitimir swallowed the words stuck in his throat. With a shaking hand, he pulled off his hat and laid it across his lap. Hettie snapped her gloves on, then descended upon Vitimir. She smiled with all her teeth—a beautiful sight as far as Vitimir was concerned. His heart thundered like a storm.

“Thank you,” Hettie said. She leaned in, Vitimir held his breath. Her hands slid over his jaw, cupping it. Her fingers were so cold that they practically burned against his hot skin. “You’re my favourite patient, Vit. Don’t tell anyone.”

She gently squeezed his jaw and the side of his neck. Vitimir let out a pathetic, trailing breath. “I won’t.”

Hettie chuckled, and it made Vitimir want to melt. She slipped her hands down Vitimir’s throat, pressing gently, to feel his pulse. Under his touch, Vitimir could literally feel his nerve slipping away. He couldn’t ask Hettie to the ball. There was no way. She’d laugh and spit on him, or worse, he’d ruin everything. He’d make things weird. She’d never want to be seen with him again.

“...Vit?”

Vitimir offered a strangled noise hardly audible through his dry mouth. “Errrryes?”

“Your heart rate is spiked. Are you feeling alright?”

This type of closeness was one seldom experienced. Actually, Vitimir felt like he’d die if Hettie ever took her hands off him. He wished he could crawl into her arms and never leave.

Instead, Vitimir said, “YesI’mfine.”

Hettie hummed. She pursed her lips together. “Alright. Let me know if you’re uncomfortable. Open your mouth for me, please?”

Quivering, Vitimir pulled down his face covering. He tilted his head back and unfurled his jaw.

“Good. Beautiful.” Hettie said approvingly.

Vitimir’s heart slammed. He squeezed his eyes shut as Hettie examined his mouth. The taste of latex lay heavy on his tongue. He couldn’t do this. He would have to risk petrification from Belos and miss the ball, he couldn’t invite Hettie. Unless she could miraculously read his mind now as she methodically counted each of his teeth, he couldn’t do it.

“Everything looks good so far,” Hettie hummed, obliviously examining his sharp teeth. “I’m impressed.”

“Th’nk yew.” Vitimir slurred around Hettie’s fingers.

“But I have to ask again if something’s wrong,” Hettie continued. She moved further into Vitimir’s mouth. Vitimir locked his jaw as to not bite her on instinct. “You’re sure you’re feeling alright? No new illness or symptoms?” Hettie pried Vitimir’s jaw open wider, earning a moan of discomfort. “It doesn’t hurt to come visit me before self-medicating with your potions.”

Vitimir could barely think over his racing heart. Feelings boiled under his skin and through his throat as though he were going to explode. Or vomit. Even then that might be less embarrassing than what he was about to do. If he could just put his mind to it, say the words, move his mouth—

“Achsually,” Vitimir slurred around Hettie’s fingers. He couldn’t believe he managed to do it. Holy shit. His stomach churned itself into knots. “I’s won’ring— about th’ ball—”

In that same moment of bravery, Hettie’s office door flew open. The Healer from before appeared in the doorway. Both Vitimir and Hettie flicked their eyes to her.

Dark stains stretched across her robes and gloves. She seemed noticeably more dishevelled than before, her strange smile more strained.

“Headwitch Cutburn— I’m sorry,” the Healer said in a rush. “We’re having kind of an issue out here—”

A scream rang out, followed by a crash and clamouring. Alarmed voices cried out.

Hettie scowled. She removed her fingers from Vitimir’s mouth and leaned back.

“You all can’t be on your own for five minutes.” Hettie sighed. She snapped off her gloves and discarded them aside. “I’m sorry, Vit. I need to deal with this.”

Vitimir almost curled up in a ball on the chair. Any nerve and bravery seeped out of his pores and pooled on the floor beneath him. His voice tumbled out of his mouth like an overfilled cup, “‘Sokay.”

“You don’t need to stay. We’ll reschedule and pick up where we left off later.”

As Hettie went to leave, Vitimir sadly unravelled his gangly limbs. He slumped off the chair, feeling utterly defeated. Then Hettie paused suddenly by the door, turning back to look at him.

“...What were you going to say, by the way?”

Vitimir’s skin crawled with gooseflesh. He shivered from the base of his skull down to his tailbone.

“Nothing. Nothing important.” Vitimir squeaked.

Hettie looked at him for an agonizingly long moment. Vitimir wished he could see her eyes, and discern what she was thinking; based on her lips set in a straight line, Vitimir imagined that she didn’t believe him for a moment. Or she found him revolting and insane.

Instead of voicing any of these concerns, Hettie frowned briefly, then forced a more neutral expression.

“Well. Okay. I’ll see you again before long, won’t I?”

She quirked her lips into a half smile, which Vitimir imagined would suffice as a wink. It had the same effect on him; a hot wave washed over him as he nodded dumbly.

“As always.”

Once Hettie disappeared, leaving Vitimir alone in the office, he bit down on his tongue and did everything in his power not to scream.

—30—

There’s only so much that one witch can withstand. After multiple failed attempts at asking Hettie to the ball, Vitimir had relinquished to the fact that he might never succeed. He would risk either a horrific night at the ball or a petrification. Whatever. As is Vitimir’s miserable life.

At least sitting in the small hut on the outskirts of the Emperor’s castle, Vitimir could forget his troubles. Instead he was able to put his focus on Hettie, her project, and the dead, partially dissected body stretched out on an examination table. By the low light he forgot himself, and his plight, and cared only for his task of administering an adrenaline potion into a cadaver while Hettie carefully stimulated the heart and lungs.

“...So the emperor’s ball is in a few days,” Hettie commented. She was dressed down in only her robes, missing her face covering. Vitimir hardly ever saw her murky white eyes and her exposed, towering horns, but he tried not to draw attention to it. 

Vitimir nodded sagely. Perspiration collected on his brow just below the brim of his hat. He didn’t need that reminder. “So it is.”

“What do you make of that?”

Only Hettie Cutburn could make small talk while she was wrist deep in the chest cavity of a cadaver.

Vitimir tilted his head side to side. Carefully he pressed down on a button which administered a slow drip of potion into the cadaver.

“...It’s a waste of time and resources,” Vitimir finally said. As his thumb reached the applicator, he waited a moment, before switching out the tube with a fresh one. “I became a headwitch to do something with myself, not waste my time at... Rr...”

Vitimir snapped his free fingers as he struggled to find the right word. Without looking up from her methodical massages, Hettie offered, “A glorified office party?”

“Ah. Precisely.”

“Maybe we ought to spike the punch. Make things more interesting.”

Vitimir’s heart skipped a little beat. His thumb almost slipped on the applicator, though he quickly restrained himself. The presence of the ‘we’ in that sentence implied that he and Hettie would be there together, right? Or maybe Hettie meant the general, royal ‘we’. After all, they were colleagues. Nothing else. He shouldn’t make those types of assumptions, least he disappoint himself down the line.

Hettie sunk her hands deeper into the cadaver. Vitimir watched with almost envy; he wished Hettie would reach into his own chest and massage his heart as tenderly as she did with the corpse. Metaphorically or literally. He would trust her with any of his important organs.

“You know, Vit, speaking of—”

The corpse jostled.

Vitimir jolted in his seat, snapping back to full attention. For a moment he assumed that they were making progress, but then came a hissing sound from inside the body.

Hettie gasped and wretched back. Sizzling green acid bubbled across her hand.

“Balls. Shit. Fuck.”

The short, downy feathers on the back of Vitimir’s neck stood straight. A shudder pricked through his body as he leapt up from his stool.

“Hettie? What happened?”

Hettie shook her head as she quickly peeled off her steaming rubber gloves. “Damn. Damn.” She flung the offending gloves into a corner, where they proceeded to melt into the floor. She rushed for a sink on the other side of the operating table. “I thought I got all the acid sack out before. Sloppy.” She stuck her hand under the running faucet and hissed.

“Rinse it and let me see.”

“I told you, I’m fine. It doesn’t feel deep—”

“With all due respect,” Vitimir said firmly, surprising even himself. “You wash yer hands about a thousand times a day. You can’t feel almost anything. It could be worse than you think. Please, Hettie. Let me check it.”

Hettie paused to that. So used to wearing her Healing Coven face covering perhaps, she offered little to no outward expression. She stared at Vitimir, giving only a small twitch to her brow. But after a long moment she scoffed and smiled.

“Fine. Come here.”

Vitimir shivered again from head to talon. He slunk around the table to Hettie. Part of him wanted to apologize for being so stern with Hettie just then, but the other part knew that her stubbornness wouldn’t respond to anything else.

Hettie sucked in a breath as she held out her hand. Vitimir took it with all the care he had in his body.

Any other time, he would be thrilled for the opportunity to touch and hold Hettie’s hand; now, all he could focus on was her well-being. He turned her hand over, presenting her palm. Vitimir frowned. Hettie hissed.

A large acid burn ate up the majority of Hettie’s palm. Her white skin had been turned an angry red, fit with forming raw blisters.

“Ugh,” Hettie uttered.

Vitimir shook his head in grim agreement. “No good.”

Cupping her hand in one, Vitimir dug into his pocket with the other. Hettie tipped her head to the side as he produced and uncorked a potion. He shook a generous glob of thick, viscous liquid out onto Hettie’s open and waiting palm.

Immediately on contact, she jumped and hissed, “Ah! Fuck!”

“Sorry. Stings.”

“No shit.” Hettie laughed tensely.

Vitimir flushed teal at the sound. Oh, Titan, her laugh was so beautiful it hurt. He pocketed the bottle again, and carefully worked the tincture into her wound 

Hettie watched as though transfixed.

“You know, I’m grateful to have you, Vitimir. Really.”

He shivered. “Rrr. It’s nothing, really. An aloe-mineral-witch hazel mixture... With a twist not yet approved by the Potions Coven.”

Hettie cracked a smile, even laughed a bit. Vitimir rubbed slow methodical circles into her palm.

“But it should help. It’ll moisturize the burnt skin and promote healing in the tissues.”

Hettie cleared her throat. “Vitimir...”

“If you left this, it would’ve gotten infected. Ya never know what type of bacteria’s gotta live in the acid sack.”

“Listen, Vit...”

“Yer a doctor and you take care of others, but you gotta take care of yourself too, yaknow—”

“Will you go to the ball with me?” Hettie blurted out.

Vitimir responded initially with stunned silence. He paused full bodily and stared at Hettie bewildered. Then he muttered, “Errrrwhat.”

Hettie exhaled heavily. A grin overtook her lips. “Oh, Titan, I’ve been trying to get that out for days .” She laughed, then, so casually. Too casually. Vitimir meanwhile felt like he was going to explode.

“What.” Vitimir said again.

“There’s never been a good time, and you’re so busy—”

“Youwanttogototheballwithme.”

Hettie grinned wider, displaying all of her straight teeth. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

Vitimir short-circuited. His brain became a collapsing supernova inside his skull. So blindsided by this statement that he actually forgot he was holding Hettie’s hand so tenderly in his own, gently clasping her palm. He forgot to think about how cold her hands were, yet so incredibly comforting and soft. He actually forgot to blink, too, leaving him only to stare blankly at Hettie.

“I. Rrr.”

Hettie’s smile faltered. It edged closer to worry than relief.

“Oh. It’s alright if you don’t want to go. Together, I mean. I just thought, well...” Hettie’s fingers flexed in Vitimir’s hand. “I guess you know what they say about assuming—”

Vitimir’s heart leapt up into his throat. He thought he’d choke, but it squeezed out a string of words instead.

“I’dlovetogowithyou.” Vitimir said in a rush. Then, after a pitiful inhale, he clarified, “To the ball. If you’d have me.”

“Of course I’ll have you, you silly bird man.”

Hettie did the unthinkable. She leaned in over their clasped hands, ignorant to how Vitimir flinched out of habit.

She laid a soft kiss on his cheek. Her lips were cold, though quickly Vitimir’s face turned ablaze up to his ears.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while, too.” She admitted.

Vitimir stammered nonsense for a long moment as his stunned tongue tried to remember how to move. Hettie looked at him with her murky white eyes, waiting and smiling patiently.

“So you... I... Err... Have I been missing something?”

“Yes. You have.” Hettie found a piece of Vitimir’s long hair and twirled it around her finger. “You’re painfully oblivious.”

“Oh.” Vitimir hesitated. “I’ve been. This past week. I. Have also been trying to... Ask you out.”

Hettie stopped. Her lips parted. “You’re kidding.”

Vitimir shook his head.

“Oh my Titan...” Her lips split with a grin. “We’re both oblivious.”

Something clicked to Vitimir then. He realized—he didn’t understand. He thought that everything was so black and white, that he knew exactly how the world worked and spun. But it wasn’t true. Vitimir had gotten in his own way believing that Hettie was above him, too good to even consider dating his weird, awkward self, when this entire time she had been trying to ask him the same thing. The thought rocked him, incomprehensible, bubbling up through his stomach and his throat...

Vitimir laughed. A chuckle at first, scratchy and strange, as though the sound was foreign to him. Then he lost control of it, and it got louder, until he was laughing like he’d been told the funniest joke he’d ever heard.

At it, Hettie’s expression lit up. She raised her brows, eyes bright, and grinned. She laughed with him.

“Whaddya say we sew this fellow back up an’ retire for the night?” Vitimir’s own brashness shocked him. But fuelled by Hettie’s beautiful smile and her eyes, he felt like he could do anything.

“Let’s.” Hettie stood straight, grabbing a roll of gauze from her collection of things from the sink to wrap her hand. “Can we go get some food? I’m starving.”

Vitimir’s heart lay full and bright inside his chest, and he couldn’t stop his crooked smile. He knew then that he’d follow Hettie Cutburn to the end of the world if she asked him to.

“I’d love that.”

[true--north]

Hi ❄️✨

Could you write a drabble about Iduna and Agnarr using the titanic scene where Jack draws Rose?

You know, Agnarr is drawing something and Iduna asks him to draw her wearing only the scarf. Please 🥺🩷

To be a prince meant to master all the seven liberal arts perfectly. To be able to play the piano or the violin, to know philosophy and theology, to be able to draw a statue or the ruins of a castle — all this Agnarr had to learn from childhood, whether he wanted to or not. And he was a diligent pupil.

But when a traveling painting exhibition from the Frankreich arrived in Arendelle, it was Iduna who was so excited to see the paintings. She persuaded Regent Peterssen to allow her and Agnarr to visit the exhibition, although the elderly lord was not a fan of modern art.

"Agnarr, look at how beautiful it is!" She was delighted and admired with ecstasy the forest landscapes and floral still lifes of bright colours.

"Yeah, very beautiful." Agnarr answered, smiling not at the paintings but at her as she grabbed him by is hand and dragged him to the next canvas.

"Can you draw that?" she showed him a picture of a ship in a stormy sea.

"Perhaps," Agnarr shrugged.

"And this? I know you're good at drawing!" Iduna asked enthusiastically about the painting depicting a majestic cathedral.

"Architecture? Yes, of course." Smirked Agnarr, shrugging again. He began to like this game.

"Oh... Can you do something like that?" Fascinated, Iduna stopped in front of a Greek-style drawing. A girl dressed only in a transparent drapery of red cloth was lying in a forest clearing, and a young man in a white tunic was bending over her for a kiss, in his hands a white lily.

Agnarr cleared his throat. "Ah, classic... Yes, I was taught that." He suddenly felt hot and stuffy.

Iduna was holding his hand, she was standing very close to him and looking at him with the same look as the girl in the picture. "Come on, Iduna, there are a lot of other paintings here." He hastily took her aside.

"Agnarr, I want to have a drawing from you as a keepsake. Promise me you'll draw something for me! I think I'm in love with art." She smiled sweetly. Agnarr could not refuse her.

That evening he remembered her request again.

Taking off his jacket and rolling up his shirt sleeves, he settled down on an armchair with an album and a sanguine in his hands. "What would I draw for Iduna?" the prince thought, "Iduna..." He thought about her so often, Iduna was the closest person to him. And so the idea came very easily: he decided to draw a forest landscape for her. For some reason, Iduna was associated with the forest, autumn leaves, cool wind. Agnarr imagined the most enchanted and dreamy of the woods he could imagine and began putting the first touches on the paper.

Carried away, he did not immediately hear a quiet knock on the door. It was repeated.

"You may come in, the door is open." he replied, without taking his eyes off the drawing where the outlines of birches and flowers have already begun to appear.

He suspected that it could be servants or Peterssen. But it was Iduna.

"Agnarr, do you remember that you promised to give me a drawing?" She asked, sneaking in to his living room.

"Of course, but—" Agnarr was a little upset that Iduna might notice his gift before it was finished. He raised his head to look at her, and lost the ability to speak.

Iduna stood naked in front of him, covered only with a soft burgundy cloth; her long, lush chestnut curls scattered over her shoulders, an excited expression on her face.

"I—Iduna?" he asked softly, astonished.

"You seem to be blushing terribly, Your Royal Highness." Iduna giggled and lay down on the sofa in front of him, allowing the fabric to gently emphasize her curves. "I want you to draw me as the girl in that painting."

"Iduna, I can't..." he lowered his eyes with an effort despite all the blast of attraction that he has felt at the sight of her. But as a gentleman, he should give her the opportunity to change her mind and never remember about this situation again.

"You can't? But Agnarr, you said yourself that you can easily draw classics?" Iduna reproduced the romantic pose of the heroine, wishing with secret fear that he would not kick her out and reject her.

"Well, technically I can..."

"So what's the matter?" she smiled innocently.

"Nothing." he managed to say and turned the page of the album.

"Be professional, be not a fool in love who saw the woman he loves for the first time....in some damned shawl and nothing else?" ordered Agnarr to himself. "Professionalism, and nothing more."

Casting a quick glance at Iduna, he sketched the outline of her figure, but in order for it to become like a real academic drawing, he will have to really look at her. It was a torture. Her stockingless leg hung over the edge of the sofa, her white skin glowed in the pearly light of a white summer night when the sun does not set in the west but stays on the horizon like a glowing red ball.

"Move your hand a little to the left," Agnarr asked in a low voice, and Iduna obeyed him. "And...it is necessary to raise your chin a little." She did as he said, her eyes half-closed, lips smiling at him.

Agnarr wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers and applied a few strokes, hatching the shadows in the drawing. It was becoming really beautiful. Agnarr tried as best he could, adding details and highlights; although seeing and depicting how the tips of her soft hair touched the hemispheres of her breasts barely covered with patterned fabric....Being an artist was definitely harder than being a prince, and that was news for Agnarr.

"By the way, what is this? Some kind of a scarf or...?" he asked her to distract himself from her shoulders and neck.

"Yes, it's a shawl left over from my family," Iduna replied quietly.

"It's very beautiful."

"It's magical."

Agnarr laughed softly.

Finally, after a quarter of a very long and heated hour, the drawing was ready. Agnarr was proud of it, it seems he really managed to capture all the charm of Iduna in this etude. He turned the album to her and Iduna beamed when she saw his work.

"Oh, Agnarr, it's so gorgeous!" She smittenly looked at his concentrated flushed face, at his fingers smeared with brown dust from the sanguina chalks. "But something is missing. In the picture, the girl was not alone, her beloved was with her and wanted to kiss her..."

Agnarr, irresistibly drawn to her, left the album on the chair and stood knelt in front of her; put his hand on her waist and bent over Iduna's lips.

[rei-the-head-shaker]

" There’s a diamond ring on Zahra���s finger when she shows up with her coffee thermos and a thick stack of files. They’re in June’s room, scarfing down breakfast before Zahra and June leave for a rally in Pittsburgh, and June drops her waffle on the bedspread.

“Oh my God, Z, what is that? Did you get engaged?”

Zahra looks down at the ring and shrugs. “I had the weekend off.”

June gapes at her. "

_"Red, White & Royal Blue" by Casey McQuiston

[tuloblurbs]

a little jai x bhairava blurb as promised, a week later. this is just a setup for their meeting and their proper interaction would follow in the next part. hope y'all like it ! ♡

   「 udaigarh ⋅ 1608 CE 」

“ princess, this isn't going to work out. . . please, reconsider. this isn't right, ” the lady-in-waiting, chandrima, made an urgent plea, turning to the court lady to attempt at convincing the royal heiress.

the older woman stepped forward although the princess didn't spare either of them a glance, dressing herself up in commoner clothing. a maid hesitantly helped her in the process.

“ yuvarani— ” she implored, voice firm, “ this careless behavior would prove to be a mistake, my instincts tell me. please listen to us. ”

a bubbly voice retorts, “ and my instincts tell me, something fun will unfold. ”

wrapping a dull cotton scarf as a veil covering her face, all but her eyes. the smile that pulls up on her lips is hidden away, though her excitement is evident in her eyes.

“ chinnamma, don't be so stiff. you've spent half your life caring for my mother and then me, ” mitravinda spoke adamantly, handing the extra set of commoner clothing to the reserved woman.

( * mother's younger sister )

“ now is your chance to live a little— or ensure my safety, ” she shrugged, “ your choice. ”

manorama raised the princess, of course she knew when she had made up her mind. wondering where she had gotten this stubbornness from, she accepts the clothing with a sigh.

“ but wait— ” chandrima began, only to be interrupted by the lady, who was quite tenacious herself.

“ i will not report this venture to his majesty so as long as your royal guard comes along. ”

“ yes, yuvarani, if kala bhairava is with us, there's nothing to fear, ” the maid encouraged.

one of them had to concede, and with an opportunity like this, mitravinda had to allow a small inconvenience for the sake of her fun.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

the market was bustling with people enjoying the ‘ manmadhaga ’ festival celebrating love with plenty sweets, fragrant flowers, costumes and elegant performances. her heart raced.

she had heard a few maids talking about the cupid's star appearing once in spring every year. there was a firm belief that viewing it in the night sky after giving an offering to the cupid would grant you eternal love.

with guruji speaking of looking for potential suitors for her, mitravinda realized that she wished for a marriage born out of love than some arrangement. and while she could not actively avoid it, she had to do what all she could to invite her soulmate into her life.

“ yuvara— ” mitravinda clicked her tongue at her maid who had just returned with the offering items. she corrected herself quickly, “ i mean, my lady, there's the temple. shall we go? ”

manorama sighed as they walked ahead with a skip in their step, but she wouldn't bother discouraging the princess now. it was a foolish belief anyway, it's no way to change your fate.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

the guard blended into the crowd, following the trio from a safe distance as ordered. he was alert, surveying the surroundings and taking in the new atmosphere.

a festival promising true love? he didn't believe it but to each their own, he supposed. he did understand the princess' eager attempt to avoid marrying a man she couldn't love. after all, only he knew of her attraction to women — if anything, she would be inviting a forbidden romance.

his sword was hidden away the same as his handsome features save for the striking eyes. leaving their shoes outside, they enter the rock temple with silver designs said to have been carved by the first king of udaigarh, inviting love and misfortune together. that was why the royal family refrained from attending the celebrations, much less make a mention.

vibrantly decorated with diyas and colorful rangoli designs earnestly made by hopeful maidens, it was hard to gauge that it had been abandoned by their rulers for it was so well cared for by the commoners and some faithful nobles who had found their match through this activity that it became a tradition for generations.

parrots flew around the area, perched upon arches and blooming trees with their little whistles and singing, the sort that only arrive at this time of the year.

a crowd had gathered around the hall, watching some performance. seeing as the princess had taken an interest to it, bhairava stepped closer to watch as well, a new curiosity bubbling within.

a woman sang while another performed with such ease and rhythm to her steps. midway, a man joined smoothly, donned in a black-gold costume, strangely erotic in the way he moved despite the innocence in their choreography.

the man had strong shoulders, arms much alike a warrior, yet his body danced as though he were elegance personified. even the woman dancing along couldn't match up to the grace he radiated so naturally.

casting a glance at the ladies, he found them rooted in their spot, captivated. as was he, but bhairava was of sound mind enough to not neglect his duty.

only then does he hear a low, masculine voice singing a melodious tune.

 ⋆ won't you hear my prayers and answer the call of my heart, o' manmatha? ⋆

as if speaking right to him, their eyes meet and the man danced exuding longing with those expressive eyes. in a crowd of people, only bhairava found himself breathless, incapable of tearing his eyes from the dark hues pulling him into a trance-like state.

 ⋆ my love, must you close the door to the pull of my voice? do you not crave my presence against yours? ⋆

bhairava himself was mesmerized as the other danced, the music and the lyrics leading up to a more intimate ending. a small frown creeps onto his lips when the woman joins her partner, embracing him with a sensuality he was both fascinated and annoyed by. still, the royal guard could not deny the beauty of it all, especially when their eyes met once more at the end, the smile pulling up on the male dancer's face making his own heart flutter.

the lightly-tuned bells ringing indicated that offerings have begun, and so he tore his gaze unwillingly and followed along the princess, prioritizing his duty over his curiosity.

as he leaves, he steals a quick glance of the man, unsure what he intended to do with the image captured behind his eyelids yet treasuring it for now.

what had fate planned for these blissfully unaware souls?

the first meeting of #jairava ! did i capture their essence alright? as always, feedback and critique is always appreciated. i hope my vision translated here to some extent. i plan to write another part with a proper interaction, but let's see how this goes.

[untilthenextencore]

Cosmic~... Ch. 3

And as they made their way inside the club, Galatea remained still with her head on his shoulder. His jacket remained draped over her shoulders, glittering in the dimmer light still. His arm remained wrapped around her shoulders as he pet her hair & pressed a kiss to her lips & cheek before intimating to his angel. "I can't wait for you to meet Richard, dear. He oughta love you!"

Just as he said that, in short order they were lead to a table where a man with close cropped hair, moustache & goatee waved them over.

"Richard! There you are!" Jimmy smiled.

"Jimmy!" He greeted, before casting his eyes in Galatea's direction in evident bemused surprise. "And just who might this lovely young thing be?..."

~

"A surprise!" Jimmy laughed, greeting Richard with a hug. "We met when she returned my runaway scarf after the show. She's the most marvelous girl! Despite being a local here she was even at the Royal Albert gig if you can believe it!"

"Well! What a fortunate surprise! And such a lovely surprise too! The name's Richard. Pleasure to meet you, luv." He leant over the table to shake her hand.

"Nice to meet you as well." Galatea nodded, smiling at Jimmy as he pulled her chair out for her to sit. "The name's Galatea."

"Wait..." Richard's eyes narrowed slightly, something clearly twigging for him. After studying her as she pulled her chair in, Richard nodded. "I thought you looked familiar..."

Jimmy peered curiously at Richard at that last remark.

"What?" Galatea froze.

"You've been in the Daily Mirror lately back at home haven't you? Miss 34E or DD - 22 - 37?"

Galatea's cheeks flamed red as she gaped & then covered her mouth. She pulled Jimmy's coat closer around her, shrugging and scrunching her shoulders, huddling into it. Her hair shielding her face slightly, she gazed up at Jimmy nervously.

Jimmy's mouth was in a tight line. He cut his eyes over at his old friend, holding up a hand. "Richard, lay off! You're clearly making her uncomfortable. She doesn't like it, so lay off."

Richard just laughed, placing a big mitt over hers as it moved to lie on the table. "I'm sorry, my dear. I don't mean to unnerve you. It's just my way. It's my plight it seems. I apologize."

Galatea nods softly, speaking just as softly. "I-I-It's alright. It's alright. I guess I'm just a little sensitive. I'm a little new to this. Those were some of my first pics so, I'm just not used to the attention."

Slowly, her posture regained its elegant yet still shy poise. Shoulders gently squared, gaze lifted off her lap & arresting Richard enough to make him gasp & hush out another. "Sorry." Though it was hard to tell if her chest was thrust out due to her ladylike - and likely parochial school-trained - posture or just due to nature and the many blessings it bestowed upon her. And despite his "better inclinations", Richard TRIED his best to figure it out.

In the meantime, menus were perused and Galatea remarked. "Oh they serve Italian here! I like making a few of these dishes for fun."

Richard & Jimmy's eyebrows raised, both chorusing in the single word response. "Really?"

She nodded. "Certainly not the whole menu. Just a few dishes. Caccio e pepe. Fettuccine Alfredo. Spaghetti with homemade marinara."

"Homemade?" Jimmy quirked a brow as his mouth quirked into a slow wide grin. "Well! I'd love to taste this homemade work of yours one day. That is... If I should be so lucky..."

Galatea broke out into a smile that started slow & shy & turned into the brightest, beaming smile he'd ever seen on her. She lit up from with in. And with that, for Jimmy & Richard, she lit up the room.

"I'd love that. I'd love to cook for you one day. Should you find the time that is..." She giggled.

The only thing that broke her merriment momentarily was the sight of Jimmy shivering slightly & rubbing his arms. Galatea, without even thinking, removed his jacket and draped it back around his shoulders.

Richard saw something flicker between Galatea & Jimmy. He figured upon first meeting - and reciting the attributes of - the young miss, that he knew or at least had an inkling of an idea of just what drew Jimmy to her. But now, he wondered if there wasn't more to this between the two. More to the couple, coupling, or potential coupling. More to this young girl.

It went beyond just the juxtaposition of her sipping Shirley Temples to his Johnnie Walker.

It went beyond their holding hands over the table. His thumb caressing her as she gave him soft little squeezes back.

Their gazes locked often, a secret passing between them, a secret flame flickering in their eyes & flicking the corners of their mouths up in a smoothly painted smile.

Richard knew that look. He'd seen it much before. Many times before. Jimmy was lost in her eyes. And she was lost in him. Loose and on the prowl for the first time in awhile, the "Dark Mage" as some might call him, had finally found his prey.

They protected each other instinctively. He shielded her from prying eyes & her anxieties as she did him. He shielded her with his cloak & anything he could. And she returned the favor with anything she could offer. Even the figurative "broken wings" he supposed that Jimmy saw in her.

Each time their gazes strayed from each other they seemed to look upon the world as if just awakening or reawakening. Starry eyed, faintly surprised & curious as to what if anything they missed.

The night went quickly from there. And to Richard's less than total surprise, when they decided to wrap things up, upon paying the tab Jimmy took Galatea by the hand once more & led her out into the night. What was a bit more surprising was Jimmy's leaving a hefty tip before spiriting his stunning young find out into the night & back to the car.

What sort of effect did this young girl have on Jimmy exactly?

And how?

What sort of girl is she?

But before he can even think to contemplate that much, Richard finds his thoughts cut off by a departing salute from Jimmy.

"See you in the morning, Richard!" Jimmy called as he disappeared.

Galatea adding a quick. "Nice to meet you!" Over her shoulder as she was led out.

And then they were gone...

~

Hope you guys enjoy~!

As ever this is forever under construction~!...

[sterekdrabbles]

Happy Friday! We hope you have a great weekend!

Today's words are: royal, scarf, shrug