#it was supposed to be a small Drabble

[kalevalakryze]

Closing In

Warnings: panic attacks, mentions of anxiety, ptsd, claustrophobia

Characters: Bo-Katan Kryze, The Armorer, Ragnar Vizsla(mentioned)

Relationships: Bo-Katan Kryze/The Armorer

Notes: this definitely wasn’t meant to turn out like this, but my brain started to spin the idea and I just let it roll. It also, definitely wasn’t supposed to be so long. But I also missed writing for these two, and I’m trying to get back into the groove.

I started writing this wide awake, and by the time I got to the end I was falling asleep , so I apologize for any spelling errors

Ever since she was a child, Bo-Katan Kryze had trained her mind and body to handle nearly every situation with a cool head, could face some of the most gruesome scenes on a battlefield and walk away just fine, because she was strong, because she put years into developing a resistance to the world she found herself in. When in immediate danger, she could force her brain to analyze quickly before acting, the ‘fight or flight’ many had talked about around her had been unheard of.

But despite all her strength, the circumstances changed, and no amount of training could have prepared her for the way her body would start to react, how her fight mode would click over to freeze, and she hated it.

The panic hadn’t really hit her until she found herself alone on Kalevala, where the droid she’d kept around was the only one to help pull her out, when her fingers would clench around the arm of the throne and her teeth would grind together as she tried to rile up enough anger to phase out the feeling of dying, until she was angry enough at anything and everything to force her body to start moving again.

She’d thought that things would be better, after reclaiming Mandalore, that the walls that moved in time with her racing heart would stop, that her body could finally relax because she was safe, Mandalore was home again, but her brain and body seemed reluctant to acknowledge this.

Bo had been lucky enough that these ‘attacks’ never happened around others, where she could drop to the ground in her own ship or her own quarters, and try to claw the demonic bastard out of her. And where she would often lay frozen for hours until the rustle or mandalorian’s waking in the mornings pulled her out, forced her to prepare for the day, sleep be damned, she was the Mand’alor.

And it had stayed like that for some time, leaving the woman content with the new schedule (as comfortable as she could be, trying to find sleep in nights full of panic and grief), had figured out how to balance each attack and work her schedule to accommodate her alone time in those hours, until… she couldn’t. Until she wasn’t alone anymore.

The Armorer had called her to the Great Forge, a place the woman had not been in some time. And at first, it had been fine, because the younglings wanted to show her their work, and the apprentices under The Armorer’s command were excited to talk about their progress, and it was just so much easier to cloud the rising anxiety, to focus on their helmets or faces instead of the way the rock formations along the walls had started to breathe in sync with her.

Until the apprentices and younglings had departed for their dinner, until The Armorer was leading her further into the winding tunnels, to a room that had been furnished into an armory. The Armorer was talking, and attempting to show her a piece they’d finished, trying to show her the Beskar Plate that had been furnished by a young Ragnar, who’d lain the Kryze insignia into the metal and had painted it a combination of silver, teal, and black.

She didn’t notice the piece of armor that had been crafted for her though, the only thoughts she could entertain were the certainty that she was going to die here, the walls closed tighter around her with every breath, tagged in her throat and leaving her mouth dry. The Armorer was in front of her then, and she could assume from the distant timbre that something was being said, but she couldn’t, just couldn’t breathe!

The Mand’alor dropped to her knees, gloved fingers digging into the iron heart in her armor, pulling at the pieces that seemed too tight, too constricting, she just needed room, but everything was closing in, and she could barely see The Armorer right in front of her, but her skin prickled like fire under the heavy hand that rested against her back.

“Off, off,” she gasped finally, her armor starting to separate from the leather buckles that held it in place as she focused every ounce of waning strength into forcing the piece off her chest, trying to find the room to breathe in the constricting space. “Off-“ she spoke again, voice nearing a pathetic sound that she would never forgive herself for making in front of another living being.

And oh maker, how was she ever going to look at The Armorer after this? Was she going to be immediately usurped for the blatant weakness? Would they just kill her then and be done with her? The thoughts did nothing to quell the bone deep ache, of the hammering of her heart that was certain she was going to die if the armor wasn’t gone.

The other woman was still for just a moment, hands hovering as Bo continued to claw at her own chest, forcing the metal to move from the liner that kept the chest plates combined over the flight suit. Then, deft fingers were releasing the straps, much easier than Bo was trying to get them off, the plates dropping to the ground with a sharp clang, the long plate from her back also clattering at the release, until her upper body was free and she could start to breathe again.

Finally able to gather some air through the filters of her helmet, Bo managed to reach her hand up and yank the helmet off of her own head, letting it drop to the ground just as disrespectfully as the chest plates, because she was going to die, the armor didn’t matter because there was no one to pass it down to.

The redhead’s cheeks were flushed, pupils blown wide as the pure and primal fear that had boiled in her veins started to simmer, as the fear of death was replaced by shame and embarrassment. She kept her eyes focused on the floor, on the way her muscles went rigid after she’d dropped, and on the way her chest expanded with every breath, free of the claustrophobia the metal on her chest had brought her.

Still, The Armorer did not leave her side, knelt down beside the Mand’alor like at prayer, though instead of her hands clasped in a steeple, the woman’s discarded helmet was held carefully in gloved hands.

They sat like that for minutes, the only sound the unrestricted noise of Bo’s labored breaths and the occasional shifting of what was left of her armor as she adjusted her weight on the floor. “Are you alright, Lady Bo-Katan?” The woman finally spoke, breaking the silence.

“I’m alright,” she answered too quickly, voice hoarse as she struggled to right herself, finally starting to push herself to get ready to stand when a hand had reached and stopped her ascent.

“Sit a moment, please,” and while she was asking, even at her worst, Bo follows the command, turning to sit beside The Armorer on the floor, the metal leg of the table pressing into her back as the other woman settled into an officially sitting position, Bo’s helmet held in her lap.

“If you’re trying to figure out how to tell me to get out, you can just say it, I can take it,” Bo spoke after several beats of silence. Even when that golden helmet turned again, and she could feel the eyes on her through the visor, she forced her gaze on the nearest wall in front of her, jaw tensing as her hands pulled into fists, preparing herself for it.

Again, a beat of silence, as The Armorer tried to process this. “Bo-Katan, Mandalore is your home, just as it is any other Mandalorians’. No one has any right to ask you to leave, unless it is of your own volition,”

The Mand’alor made like she was going to speak, but clamped her mouth shut when The Armorer spoke again. “We are a United people, stronger together, thanks to you, but even the strongest armor has it’s melting point, a weak spot. That is where the rest of the armor comes into play, to help protect that spot until it can be repaired,”

Her helmet was set down, and this time, she’d picked up Bo’s chest piece, claw marks pulling the paint away from the chrome around her iron heart, testament to her frantic scrambling. “You are not any less a Mandalorian because of this, nor any less the Mand’alor that has brought our people together at last.”

When the armor was set down once more, and a gloved hand moved to rest on Bo’s shoulder tentatively, the Mand’alor leaned into the strength provided, until her heated face was meeting the cool of red painted armor and the softness of the fur on her back.

“Together,” Bo echoed at last, as her legs tucked up close to her chest, as The Armorer’s arm wrapped around her shoulder, and the walls started to push out a bit, no longer as tight an constricting as they’d been feeling for weeks.

When she could finally take in slow and measured breaths again, and the last of the adrenaline burned from her body, Bo had finally stood, reaching to grasp an offered arm, bound in leather, to steady herself. “I apologize, for steering us so far away from our intended objective here,” she finally spoke as The Armorer picked up her discarded armor pieces and laid them against the table.

“The time is not important, as it will still be here when you are ready,” and then The Armorer was turning the piece so Bo could fully look at it. It was just the right breastplate, but it was clear that the craftsman took a great deal of time and effort into shaping the Beskar, inlaying clan Kryze’s crest into the metal, and from each paint stroke that colored the metal. She knew how important the colors of armor were to the children of the watch, how their paints were chosen carefully to express their duties to this life. The teal, a color she was seeing more and more in the Mandalorian’s that survived the purge symbolized healing, something Bo was certain they all needed a certain degree of.

The silver covered a large expanse of the plated piece, and while many could assume it plain, she was aware of the colors purpose, redemption, easy to paint to something new once a person redeemed themselves again.

Black paint lined the edges, close to where her scratched up iron heart would be if the piece had been complete. Justice, for Mandalore, for herself, for everything they’d been put through since the civil wars.

She had paused then, blinking at the piece, trying to figure out why her clan was emblazoned against the metal, and why The Armorer was presenting it early. “Ragnar created this piece, his first work, as a means to express the individuality and our combination as one people again. Your Owls seem too uniformed, and he’d hoped you would protect yourself with this Beskar, so the others would feel at ease changing their own pieces,” she explained, letting her glove trace the rim on the plate as Bo stared.

“Oh, they’re all allowed to change their armor, absolutely,” The warrior rubbed at her face, before finally reaching out with her hand. “And, I accept, if he, and you, are sure,”

Carefully, The Armorer removed the old breastplate from the fabric that kept them conjoined, and with a little work, the black marred beskar was replaced with the new, gleaming piece. “May I?” She asked finally, and Bo nodded her head slowly.

She was still rigid under The Armorer’s fingers, as the armor was pulled on over her flight suit once more, as she tried to expand her chest with each buckle done, preparing herself for the crushing feeling that would not come. When each piece of her armor had been reattached, Bo’s gaze was caught on the different colors against her chest, hand raising to trace against the many different colors.

“Thank you,” The Mand’alor spoke quietly, letting The Armorer linger behind her, and when strong arms started to wrap around her from behind, Bo let herself sink into the wert retreat, allowing herself to lean against The armored for strength as she focused her breathing, ensuring that unless she found herself in this position, her armor would not still be as compressed as it had been against her skin.

#bo katan kryze #the armorer #bo katan x the armorer #bo katan needs a hug #bo katan gets a hug #the armorer is a rock #the mandalorian #nitearmor #star wars #take off your helmet #it was supposed to be a small Drabble #because my brain was literally just #clawing at the beskar heart #struggling to breathe #and this is what happened #this is why we cant have nice things

[wanderingconstellations]

“i would rather die than to love you from afar„

rafayel would tuck your hair behind your ear and looks at you with loving eyes when you fall asleep listening to his ramblings.

rafayel who acts defiant and dramatic for the fun of it, he adores seeing you grin and laugh at his silly behavior.

rafayel relishes the warmth of your hand intertwined with his. although you may not remember him from your previous lives, he'll make sure to cherish you in this life anyways.

rafayel, who's heart overflows with love. he would do anything to stay by your side, even if it means giving up everything he has for you.

___

xavier, who puts himself on the line for you. your safety is his top priority.

xavier who rarely ever refuses you. he can't, he can't find himself refusing you. ask him anything, and he would do anything in his power to give it to you.

xavier, who would always get hurt and never go to the hospital. he always comes to you with one or two more wounds that you scold him for getting. it isn't his fault he keeps on getting hurt, maybe he just wanted to see you.

xavier would fall asleep everywhere, and sometimes even on you— if you let him. you may not see it, but his eyes is practically brimming with love for you.

___

zayne, who gives you gifts as a sign of his affection.

zayne treasures the memories you guys make together. he keeps those memories close to his heart, loving you despite being cursed with the pain that comes along with it.

zayne who gets flustered when you catch him eating sweets. although he is a doctor himself, he can't resist sweets— which makes you giggle at the mention of that.

zayne, who boldly holds and kisses you. he doesn't care if his love for you will kill him, he would rather die than to love you from afar.

a/n: this might be occ and inaccurate LMAO. had to use the fandom wiki to make it seem accurate as possible. i haven't played the game in a while so ^^

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fics :p #headcanons #small drabble i guess?? #writers block #supposed to write this an hour ago but lmao here you go :3 #love and deepspace fluff!!! #i dont know if theres any writings about these peculiar three men #rafayel #xavier #zayne #zayne love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #xavier x reader #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader

[anantaru]

brainrotting abt soft dom kazuha w a corruption kink🙌😩

him being all gentle and patient knowing its s/o's first time but on the inside he just wants to fuck the living shit out of them....yummy

cw. corruption, fem! reader

it‘s not like kazuha has any ill intend behind his tiny, little actions, you have to understand where he was coming from though!

it‘s just the way you were so— untouched, or how your body was beginning to smell just like him, his scent casted all around your skin— as if he had claimed you just now. The fact that no one before had the pleasure to taste and feel you like he did, right now, this very second. Naturally, kazuha will take his time with you, he himself wants to enjoy this as much as possible as well, however he also didn‘t want to put unnecessary pain on you in any shape or form, being aware that you‘d require additional time of preparation.

the moment he feels you helplessly clamp down on him though, or the flex of your strained muscles on his girth— your mushy walls gushing on him. He‘d turn everything upside down, into a different approach. His hair strands were clinging on his glistering forehead now, kazuha did his best to remain as calm as he possibly could, but his natural body responses exposed how difficult it had been for him to hold back.

fuck, just— you were so inexperienced and innocent in your touches, yet all the more intense in his eyes, he truly couldn‘t get enough.

©2023 anantaru do not share, copy, translate any of my work

#kazuha smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #kazuha x reader #genshin impact x reader #the fact this was supposed to be a thirst but it got kinda long so i switched it into a small drabble #tw corruption #tw virginity loss

[flowersforlaila]

Queen Consort Alicent cleaning Warrior Queen Rhaenyra’s battle wounds can be something so personal—

Like Rhaenyra’s laughing because she got a very minor, totally-not-at-all-consequential stab wound; and Alicent’s going through seven different stages of panic because There’s a Hole in Her Wife’s Stomach.

Alicent’s fussing, Nyra’s wincing her way through laughter, and they’re both just so fondly exasperated with one another.

Alicent has her lips tightly pressed against her mouth, painstakingly cleaning Rhaenyra’s bloody wound so as to not cause her any further harm. She’s so focused she doesn’t notice the way Rhaenyra’s laughter slows into a soft quietude. A serenity swelling in the battle-worn Queen’s chest, adoration marking her features as clear as day. The high of dragon riding, the drum of a fight, the rush of blood that she cherishes at a grip of her sword all pale in comparison to the surge of emotion she feels at Alicent’s touch. The ministrations of her unrelenting love and care absorbed in full are enough to make Rhaenyra drop her sword and never pick it up again. She thinks herself mad, she knows herself in love.

She stills Alicent’s tender, steady hands. Cupping her love’s hands in her own scared palms, the hardened tissues of a dragon rider, she feels along the lines of abrasive skin she’s grown accustomed to recognize as Alicent’s. Permanent calluses from years of weaving, writing, and anxiety seamed into the tips of her fingers and the heart of her palm. Rhaenyra traces them as she’s done a thousands times before, gently, adoringly, mindlessly. She could trace them in her sleep, she knows this. She touches them to her lips and holds them there, speaking a love into them she doesn’t think she can articulate in words. Alicent gasps, a soft sound that disrupts the quietude of their shared room and Rhaenyra knows Alicent understands.

There are bandages loosely hugging Rhaenyra’s torso. Alicent is seated in-front of her with a inquisitive look in her eyes; to which Rhaenyra returns a blessed smile.

“Thank you,” she says, lilac eyes fixed on Alicent, “For taking care of me.”

It’s so unvaryingly sincere Alicent doesn’t know what to do with herself, hands still clutched in Rhaenyra’s palms. She bites the inside of her lip, so as to stop a completely idiotic smile from emerging onto her reddening face. She doesn’t think herself successful from the way Rhaenyra’s smile twitches into a full grin. Ten years as her Queen Consort and Rhaenyra persists to blindside her at the most inconspicuous moments, wholly by just being herself. Her lovely, lovely self.

Taking a moment to collect herself, Alicent smoothly detaches herself from the Targaryen’s grip and resumes mending her stupid wife’s utterly careless injuries, clipping out, “You’re very welcome. Faith knows I’m seldom afforded all the proper acknowledgment for all my ever-so valiant efforts.”

Rhaenyra takes to laughter then, the softness still presiding in her eyes, and consequently, is met with a sharp pain effected by an ever-bruised torso. Wincing, she doesn’t miss the way Alicent’s lips turn up, cheeks still a delicate red, as she continues to tend to her lover’s wounds.

#this was supposed to be a very small shitpost #Idk what happened #I think I blacked out #I need fic recs about this exact scenario #like a hundred of them #please #i just love them so much #rhaenicent #alicent hightower #rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon #queen alicent #queen rhaenyra #rhaenyra my beloved #rhaenyra x alicent #hotd #drabble #does this even count as a Drabble #what did I just write #i’m so not normal about them

[narakurosaki]

when shikadai is 4 years old, shikamaru takes a long, hard look in the mirror one early morning. he no longer sees himself, anymore; his facial hair has grown, and he sees the reflection of the man whose shadow he's lived in for so long. there are no scars on his face, nor does he reek of alcohol like the old man, but he has his face, his hair, the crease between his brows from scowling so often in his younger years.

he's his own man, has been for so many years, now, and yet, he still grew the damned goatee, just like his father had. how often is he compared to him? how often do people say he looks just like him? he's a husband, a father, the advisor to the hokage, the head of the nara clan. he's nara shikamaru, and he'll be damned if he continues to be compared to his father.

he takes his razor and shaves the goatee. he doesn't leave his skin smooth; instead, he opts for a light dusting of stubble, a look similar to that seen in old photographs of a grandfather he's never met. he rinses the razor off in the sink, wipes his chin with a wet washcloth, and rubs his (almost) bare chin with his palm. he looks as he did four years ago, when his wife was carrying their child -- his own man, nara shikamaru.

temari appears behind him, gliding her fingertips from shoulder to shoulder as she comes to stand at his side. she gazes at him in the mirror, watching as he observes himself.

"can't say i'll miss it," she admits, and his eyes snap to her. she's smirking. "it always poked me when we kissed."

he blinks, hums, and shuts off the faucet. he can't say he'll miss it, either.

"do you think shikadai will recognize me?"

playfully, she rolls her eyes. "that kid could pick either one of us out from a crowd within seconds. i doubt your goatee being gone will confuse him. besides, he's ours, right? already a genius in his own right."

another hum. she's right. she's always right, and he loves asking for her opinions on things.

he turns, his loose hair swinging with the movement. "he is pretty smart, isn't he?" he smiles, and temari smiles, too, though it's more of a smirk than anything, a way to tell him that she's known this fact from the day he was born. "and you? do you like it?"

temari places a hand on his cheek, and he moves to cover it with his own. "honestly? i prefer it being gone. it isn't hiding that handsome face of yours."

his heart skips a beat and he grins. eight years into their marriage, and she still makes him feel like a lovesick teen.

he leans down and kisses her.

#shikatema #my fics #shikamaru nara #temari nara #just a small drabble to get back into writing them #i've missed them a lot... #hopefully i did them justice #im pretty rusty #this was also supposed to be a headcanon but it quickly turned into something more so here we are

[sisterdivinium]

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Category: Gen Characters: Sister Lilith (Warrior Nun), Shotgun Mary (Warrior Nun), Mother Superion (Warrior Nun), Ava Silva, Jillian Salvius, Sister Beatrice (Warrior Nun), Father Vincent (Warrior Nun), Cardinal Duretti (Warrior Nun), Adriel (Warrior Nun), Sister Camila (Warrior Nun) Additional Tags: Angst, It's all of their relationships to one another and to the halo, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

A short AU for if Mary hadn't arrived on time and Lilith managed to get the halo in 1x05.

#warrior nun #narratives and similar #i debated myself for a long time about tagging so many characters BUT they arguably DO all have an importance in this one #and i suppose my concept of angst might be a tad more tame than most people's but at least you know it's not... happy #anyway i am NOT tagging everyone here lol #i mentioned au's that stick closer to canon the other day and i suppose this qualifies. one small detail... #anyway i was dying to post this one as soon as the challenge closed #also because now i get to post The Other Thing for the valentines bingo #i'll post that on friday instead of the usual drabble so stay tuned for it #also if you're wondering about the title... the challenge was the word precious #so of course i just had the song precious by depeche mode in my head all the damn time. it's a line from it. #if god has a master plan/ that only he understands/ i hope it's your eyes he's seeing through #you can interpret why i chose that and whose pov i used as you will lol

[irondad-defensesquad]

admittedly, he's never taken care of a sick kid before. luckily, tony still had some enhanced medication from rogers, and it turns out they work perfectly for peter. soon enough, tony finds the kid fast asleep in his room.

tony quietly goes in to retrieve the half empty mug of hot chocolate, and he can't help smiling at peter, who apparently doesn't notice him. obviously, tony doesn't like seeing him sick, but he'll be damned if he doesn't admit to himself that peter is adorable, looking so tiny in the thick blanket.

he takes one step away from him, when...

"uncle ben?"

tony freezes where he stands.

either peter is dreaming or it's the fever. or both.

unsure what to do, he decides to leave the kid alone and not interfere. that is, he would've done that if it weren't for the desperate grip on his arm.

"no, please," peter begs. "don't leave me."

tony stares at him, astonished. he can't actually see peter's face, but from the look of his twitching forehead, the latter might as well cry.

"i'm sorry," he whispers.

the man's eyes blur.

he can't just leave the kid. he... he needs him.

tony remains silent. however, he grabs peter's chair and sits right next to him, holding his warm hand gently. he caresses it slowly.

peter seems to relax.

"... i love you," he mumbles.

tony doesn't think he's ever heard these words so directly.

they aren't for him, though.

regardless, "i love you, too, pete."

peter has fallen asleep again. he probably didn't hear it.

#this was supposed to be more comforting but whatever lol #wrote a small sickfic bc i too am sick #lotus speaks #irondad #fics #my fics #drabble #will this have a continuation who knows

[outofthiisworld]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ STABILIZATION.

The static in the air pulsated against Doc’s skin; the workshop illuminated in hues of deep purple— all thanks to a small, segmented source of Ectoplasm. Stationed front and center of the makeshift laboratory, the cosmic static of necrosis was barely contained in a small vial of reinforced glass.

The containment remained vigilante under the sleeping energy. <- Rookie mistake number one: the energy was never asleep, not really. Always infinite in its plasmic expanse, fit to CONSUME at a moment’s notice— fit to charge, detonate, or implode before a blink.

How many times had Doc stressed this before? And how many arrogant researchers had lost their lives in a pursuit of the ego? (The real question is: how much time you got?)

Yet, ever the hypocrite himself, Doc got comfortable. So complacent in the decade of his research, with his back turned for only a moment— but a moment long enough for a CRACK in the vial to SHATTER!

A jolt of Ectoplasm SHOT through, the stream of sparks collided against a haphazardly discarded gas canister at the far corner of the workshop (one that Doc so woefully promised to properly toss MONTHS ago)—

AN ERUPTION OF DISCHARGE IGNITED!!!

A BRIGHT, [BLINDING LIGHT] HAD CHIPPED HIS GOGGLES— THE FORCE OF THE ERUPTION KNOCKED THE WIND OUT OF HIS LUNGS BEFORE—!!!

…

It never hit him.

The explosion stopped. Suspended in detonation, as if frozen in time— the force of the eruption held by an invisible force that pulsed a familiar purple.

Doc blinked, his eyesight adjusted, only to see Ophelia at the doorway.

She tilted her head, and without so much as a further twitch— the explosion imploded in itself by her own telekinetic force, until it evaporated into thin air with a single PUFF.

Ophelia opened her mouth, but Doc raised his hand up much faster.

“I know, I know. Shouldn’t have been studying Ectoplasm without you,” or at least not without another lab partner. “You know me— just got antsy. Felt like I finally had a breakthrough.”

“Oh? What this time?”

“The usual— stabilization. Got close, FELT like I got close. Until, uh…”

The two looked over at the center of the workshop. Torn apart and scorched by the detonation itself. Oops.

Doc collapsed back into his chair, slumped over, and rubbed at his face. A heavy sigh followed while he tossed his goggles onto his desk, covered in the sprawled out notes of a mad man (in a fit of exhaustion? annoyance? relief? yes).

A hand touched his shoulder, gentle enough to ground him back down to reality, and he squeezed the hand into his own palm.

“Doc?”

He hummed in acknowledgement, but kept his eyes closed.

“What’s got you so worried about stabilizing Ectoplasm?”

Doc froze. A frog lodged in his throat, one he cleared with a cough.

“Worrying is what I do— I’m your pops AND your doctor, you know. It’s a never ending sort of job,” Doc collected himself with a smirk, one that Ophelia rolled her eyes at (with a giggle, of course).

“It’s good to stay on top of these things— more I know about Ectoplasm, more I can make sure you’re in good shape. There aren’t any other Ectoplasmic Specialists out there, you know. Unless you’ve been holding out on me, missy—”

“Okay, okay— I get it! Next time, just let me know next time, okie dokie?”

“Okie dokie.”

Ophelia smiled, satisfied with the answer (for now) and pressed a small kiss on top of his head.

#📝 … drabble #🧪... ic #💜… ic #// HE KNOWS :) #//this was…….. supposed to be a small little thing to get my muse juices flowing……….. #//ended up consuming me instead of helping me do drafts. oops.

[natasha-in-space]

A Crimson Rose

。• *₊°。.❀。• *₊°。.❀。• *₊° 。

Pairing: Suit!Saeran/gn!reader

Summary: You never expected to visit this garden again, much less with Saeran as your companion. The night air feels fresh and with it, comes an intriguing encounter, which you'll reminiscence on for a long time to come. (The reader is implied to have stayed in Magenta for a longer period of time rather than the amount stated in canon. This was done for me to establish their relationship with Saeran and allow for a much more organic interactions on my part! Please keep that in mind.)

You fiddled awkwardly with the hem of your shirt in between your fingers, having no idea where to put your hands. When Saeran ordered you to be ready to meet him at the door immediately, this was not at all what you expected, especially in the middle of the night. It seemed like a whole eternity had passed since your last visit to this garden... It would be foolish to try to deny that everything around you did not bring back such dear memories of Ray and all the precious times spent with him here. From a gentle melody of leaves rustling about, enveloping an entire perimeter of the garden with the aura of calmness, to various colorful buds, near which Ray stopped by to share with you the knowledge of his dear friends.

It seemed like everything has remained the same, not suffering a single significant change since the disappearance of a hacker you held dear to your heart. This thought... stung.

Was it just another game from Saeran? A test? Some kind of cruel joke? Much to your surprise, he had not uttered a single word since your 'walk' had begun. Except for occasional orders in the form of sporadic: 'faster!', or 'don't fall behind!', not a single worthwhile phrase has escaped past his lips, thus putting you in a rather uncomfortable position. You had no idea what he was thinking or what you should be expecting from him today.

And yet... A small pang of shame in your chest made you silently shake your head and try your best to distract yourself from these gloomy thoughts. Whatever motivation Saeran might have... It's not very right of you to think only of Ray right now.

Even though... denying the fact that you miss him would be stupid.

Completely lost in your thoughts, you did not even notice how your companion stopped abruptly, forcing you to bump your nose against his back. You immediately gasped in shock and took a hasty step back. The heat of embarrassment rose to your cheeks, treacherously revealing an overwhelming feeling of awkwardness that raged in your mind along with the frantic pounding of your heart against your ribcage.

Stupid, stupid- 

"Ah- I'm sorry! I-I didn't mean to push you, Saeran..."

A nervous smile strained your features as you frantically waved your hands in front of your red face. Oddly enough, in response to your obvious mistake, Saeran only rolled his eyes at you and clicked his tongue, defiantly folding both arms on his chest.

"Tch, your clumsiness never ceases to amaze me, toy. I'm surprised you could even get down the stairs on your own without tripping over your own feet like you usually do. No wonder Ray was so eager to lock you in that room, never letting you out again, hahaha!"

He cackled, clearly enjoying this opportunity to make fun of you.

Though, his gaze narrowed in displeasure as you instantly lowered your eyes to your feet, just like you always did whenever he mentioned Ray to you. This wasn't the first time he told you this... And it's not like you were so naive so as to not notice painfully obvious red flags in Ray's behavior towards you. Ray wasn't perfect or a saint... He was... Ray. And that was enough for you.

You just wished Saeran would understand that too. 

Hacker snorted, turning his back on you again and hastily tapping his shoe on the ground to demonstrate his impatience.

"Well, whatever... I don't have time to put up with your fuck-ups today anyway. Unlike you, I have a ton of important responsibilities waiting for me. You'll have to catch up one way or another, airhead."

And with that, without giving you a single warning in advance, he suddenly grabbed your hand and tugged you towards him, causing you to clumsily stumble after him with a startled squeak falling from your lips. It seemed that he had no intention of addressing this strange gesture, simply continuing down the path with wide confident steps and dragging you along, as if nothing had even happened. Your heart trembled helplessly in your chest. Perhaps something is wrong with you since even such small signs of affection from him could create a raging storm of emotions within you... But with Saeran, you quickly learned just how important it was for you to be able to read between the lines. To notice these occasional small glimpses that could slip past you with ease. Glimpses of someone much more versatile and empathetic than this cruel facade of endless rage that Rika has forced upon him.

You wished that, one day, Saeran would no longer have this need to prove his strength and resilience to someone so desperately. You wished... to see him bloom freely.

Just like Ray did.

His hand felt rough and cold around your own, letting you know perfectly of all exhausting work those hands do, day in and day out, without a single break for proper rest. Ray never took off his gloves... therefore, being able to touch his hand like this, without a single barrier separating his skin from yours, made your entire body fill up with ticklish warmth, trying desperately to burst out of you in the form of a happy wide grin. Which you tried to restrain with the best of your abilities.

You didn't want to ruin this moment, after all.

He reminded you of a stray cat you once met, back when you were still a kid. How nobody wanted anything to do with her, since she was too aggressive and refused to let people get close to her. They deemed her as evil and hostile, but you never gave up on trying to befriend her. It took you time and a lot of patience, slowly but surely proving to the thin hungry animal your trustworthiness. You learned about the many scars this poor cat harbored on her tiny body. She was even missing an eye. You learned that... she was just scared. Terrified to be hurt like that again. But... after literal months of slow bonding, she finally trusted you enough to pet her. Granted, she was still pretty squeamish about the whole ordeal, however, she trusted you enough to know that you won't hurt her. You couldn't help but think of that small grey cat during moments like this, smiling warmly at the memory. You knew Saeran was just trying to protect himself. Of course, his violent behavior towards you was not justifiable, and you knew that. You made a rational choice to fight for him. 

And you were determined to see it through up to the bitter end. 

For a moment, you glanced at Saeran's facial expression, trying to be as discreet as possible. Instead of the usual angry scowl or a cruel grin, you were met with a display of deep thoughtfulness, as if he was lost inside his head, completely oblivious to the reality surrounding him.

He looked absolutely exhausted... and kind of lonely.

You gently wrapped your fingers around his palm in return, wanting to provide him your support without pronouncing any words. Yes... Despite everything, you still believed in him. And... you sincerely cared for him - just as you cared for Ray.

After what seemed like an eternity, which in reality was only a couple of minutes, you found the courage to try to start up a conversation, feeling slightly embarrassed by the unnatural silence on his part.

"Um... So, where are we going?"

Saeran tilted his head in your direction, raising an eyebrow in cold amusement.

"And you bothered to ask that only now? Pretty late for that, don't you think?"

For a moment, a familiar sly grin crept up across his lips before he returned his gaze to the road in front of you. A short, irritated sigh followed, as if he was too tired to maintain his usual front, but also unwilling to drop his defenses in front of you completely. Not yet, anyway.

"Forget it. We're almost there, so I don't see the point in explaining every single painfully obvious detail to you. I'm not your teacher, toy, remember this at last!"

Of course. 

All you could do was sigh and resign yourself to your fate, silently following Saeran along the many crooks and crannies of this garden. How did he even know his way around here so well, anyway? It's not like he comes here often, after all.

"Fine..."

You mumbled, puffing out your cheeks in quiet defiance and instead deciding to fix your gaze upon the many bushes surrounding you, consisting of flowers of all possible shapes and sizes.

Saeran really is different today... You wondered what could have possibly happened. Spending time with him like this… felt quite pleasant, if you were being honest with yourself. His occasional hissy remarks towards you no longer had any real effect on you, and having the opportunity, albeit with an effort, but still exchange a few words with him in a calm mutual dialogue, was incredibly pleasing. Finally, he broke his stride, quickly releasing your hand and taking a couple of steps to the side, as if looking for something specific. You resisted the urge to reach out for his hand again, already missing the warm feeling of his palm around your own. Instead, you followed after Saeran, peering warily over his shoulder and trying to discern the reason for your visit to this garden during such late hours of the night.

"And... what are we doing here?"

You decided to ask, already feeling much more at ease in his company and expressing genuine interest in his possible plans.

Instead of providing you a precise answer, Saeran turned to face you and took a step closer, reducing an already rather tiny distance between you two to the very minimum. For a moment, you were quite taken aback by his sudden closeness. It's not like such action on his part was something new to you... But right now, feeling him this close... it was too dangerous for your already helplessly fluttering heart. And yet, you did not find the strength to back away this time. You simply froze in place and did not take away your bewildered gaze from his face not even for a second. To your dismay, you couldn't help but notice how utterly gorgeous Saeran looked in the mesmerizing light of many night lamps surrounding you. It was framing his slender figure in a most ideal way possible, like he was glowing. He looked different from Ray... However, the way his beauty took your breath away felt just as overwhelming.

For some reason, you didn't feel a single hint of threat as he grabbed your chin in between his fingers with odd sense of elegance in his movements. He delicately lifted your face towards him, thus cutting off all possible escape routes you might have had before. Not that you even thought about taking your eyes off him, though.

For a moment, strange silence hung between you two, interrupted only by the soft rustling of various bushes around you and soft melody of crickets continuing their seranade without any worry in the world. You could not read an odd expression that was written all over his face at this moment. You did not have the slightest idea what answers he might have wanted to seek out by peering so intently into your eyes. It was as if he could see your very soul in all its glory. 

Saeran is definitely acting strange... Being this close to him, you couldn't help but notice deep dark bags under his eyes. They were an ideal representation of incredible fatigue that he had to fight off every single day. Perhaps something happened during his work...? You had no idea.

Whatever it was, you did not have much time to think and ponder. Just as quickly as Saeran's shield of rage and bitterness faded, it reappeared again, making itself known in the form of a wide mocking smirk, distorting his previously peaceful features. A stinging, raspy laugh reached your ears, sending a wave of goosebumps down your spine.

Agh... This is bad. You need to pull yourself together! 

Saeran cocked his head to the side with a taunting curiosity, like a sly cat, providing you with his next question.

"Well, how do you enjoy a night stroll with me in your precious garden, hm, prince/ss? I know that you wanted to come here. You spent almost all of your free time staring at this place 'out your window. It's annoying. I honestly thought about the possibility of moving you somewhere where you won't be able see even a glimpse of this useless dirt as your punishment. But... I think this will serve as a good enough lesson for you. Be grateful."

An already familiar to you mocking tone of his speech gave rise to a pulling feeling of disappointment in your chest, however... This time, you did not lower your gaze, continuing to evenly and calmly withstand a stern look of his mint eyes and waiting for his further actions. For some reason, there wasn't even half the fervor that he usually put into his torment of you. It's like he's not as interested in his threats as he would like you to believe.

As if there was more to this than simply a raw desire to humiliate you and feel better about it.

Saeran bowed his head, moving close enough to you that your noses were almost touching. The pungent smell of his cologne hit your nostrils hard. You knew how obsessively he used it to eradicate any signs of his 'weaker' half.

The tone of his voice dropped noticeably, turning into a barely audible growl meant for your ears only.

"Tell me the truth now, toy... You've been daydreaming about Ray all this time, haven't you? Ever since you saw this place in front of you again, right? So lost in your useless fantasies about that good-for-nothing bug... You don't even notice anything around you. Hilarious!"

It was hard to tell what exactly were his motives here. Was it just another mockery, an attempt to start a dialogue with you in such an eccentric way, or something deeper and more vulnerable, hidden behind the facade of sadism and cruelty he put on?

Well, whatever it was... The answer came out of your mouth before you even had a chance to think it over.

"I won't lie to you that I don't miss him... This place is a source of many precious memories between us. But... Ray is not the cause of my clumsiness today. I... really do enjoy spending time with you here, Saeran. With you, this place feels different. Not worse... but different. Maybe I just got too lost in my thoughts about this on the way. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings in any way. I'll try to be more attentive from now on."

You smiled as you slowly lifted one of your hands to carefully cup his wrist where it rested against your face. Of course, Saeran immediately jerked his hand back, taking a step back and snorting under his breath.

"It's very arrogant of you to think that you can 'hurt' me in any way possible. And I don't need your stupid apologies anyway."

Well, that was to be expected. Still, he didn't react as harshly as one might expect, so you just nodded at him with a slight smile on your lips, deciding not to push him any further. Holding your gaze for a couple more moments, he moved to a nearest bush and jerked his head at you, silently beckoning you to him. As you approached the plant, you could make out lush buds of a blood-red hue, immediately feeling taken aback by their deep brightness in soft lighting of the night.

These were most magnificent roses you had ever seen!

"They are beautiful..."

You muttered, mesmerized by the natural beauty in front of you. It seems that only now your nose was able to catch on a sweet aroma emanating from the collection of red buds scattered in this part of the garden.

Saeran chuckled under his breath, clicking his tongue at you.

"Of course, an airhead like you would spend their time gaping at some useless weeds. I didn't bring you here to admire your precious flowers, so snap out of it!"

"-Then why are we here, Saeran?"

You asked, gently touching soft petals of a certain rose before redirecting your gaze back to him with genuine curiosity. He stepped closer, thoughtfully squeezing the same flower you had touched a moment before between his fingers.

"Do you know what they mean?"

Saeran arched an eyebrow questioningly, never taking his eyes off your face. You hummed, putting one finger to your chin in thought.

"Mmm... Yes? These are red roses... They represent love, right? Perhaps this is the most famous flower in terms of its meaning..."

You giggled, remembering hundreds of people rushing to buy lush bouquets consisting of bright red roses for their loved ones whenever a holiday was coming around. Although you had nothing against red roses in particular, it would be foolish not to admit that they were a rather cliché flower in terms of a gift.

Why did Saeran decide to stop at this particular bush though? Red roses didn't seem like the kind of flower he would like.

Saeran nodded, shrugging nonchalantly and returning his attention to a colourful bud in front of him.

"Exactly. I wouldn’t be surprised if that weakling gave them to you in his bouquets... However, did you know that red roses have another meaning to them?"

Something about that wry smirk he gave you made you hesitate for a second, not having the slightest idea where he was heading with all this.

"Really...? And what do they mean then?"

You asked, your eyes flickering from the rose back to his face, as if searching for some clue that would guide you to the right answer. Saeran's grin only grew in size, indicating satisfaction with your answer, before, in one swift motion, he plucked the flower from its stem, raising the crimson bud into the light of the lanterns. You involuntarily grimaced at the unpleasant crack that accompanied the picking of a rose, mentally noting the unceremoniousness of his movements. Of course, Saeran wouldn't be careful with some flower... You should have expected something like that from him. Taking a couple of steps back, he lifted the flower higher, giving you the opportunity to see the beautiful bud in all its details. Against your instincts, you stepped closer, waiting for his next move. This seemed to please him as he brought the rose closer to your face, clearly demanding your full attention now.

"For everyone, red roses carry a message of love and passion, because that is what people decided on a long time ago. No one suspects that these flowers are not at all as ideal and innocent as everyone would want to believe."

His grip on the stem tightened noticeably, forcing you to resist the urge to ask him to let go of the unfortunate flower. Instead, you tried to listen to his story, biting your lip and clenching both hands into fists at your sides. It seems that there is some allegory to his words, which you had not yet been able to catch on...

Saeran continued.

"For example, did you know that red roses were a symbol of war once upon a time? A representation of spilled blood belonging to hundreds of lives... Ironic, isn't it? Perhaps that is where this rose got its color from. Crimson hue of a freshly spilled warm blood. Deep crimson roses also can carry the message of revenge and hatred. Did you know that, prince/ss? I think this value suits them much better. Don't you agree on that?"

A loud joyless laugh escaped past his lips, planting a seed of unease deep in your stomach. However, your attention was focused on something completely different now.

A desperate cry broke free from your lips, interrupting the peaceful atmosphere of the serene garden.

"Saeran!" 

Without thinking twice about your actions, you rushed forward, grabbing onto his wrist yet again. This time however, it was for a completely different reason than mere minutes earlier. Where his palm tightly gripped the stem of a scarlet rose, thin droplets of blood trickled down the plant, causing you to gasp in horror. He held it right on the thorns! Not caring about a possible backlash from him, you quickly unclenched his thin fingers around the poor rose, thinking of nothing but the need to rid him of this threat as quickly as possible. You did not even pay attention to the slight prickly pain where the thorns of the flower also pierced into your skin. Instead, you just quickly put it on the nearest railing.

He was squeezing that stem so hard... Your heart clenched painfully in your chest as you got a closer look at his injured palm. Not that it was a serious injury, not at all. But you hated the sight of any injury on him, however small it may be.

You pursed your lips into a thin line, gently squeezing his hand in your own.

"Let's go to my room, I have a small first aid kit in there. Ray... gave it to me when I slipped on the stairs one day. You still have a lot of work to do... It's going to be painful if we do not take care of it properly."

Only now did you manage to carefully consider what was happening, noting the unusual silence on his part. You thought he would push you away, begin to cover you with all sorts of threats, be disgusted by your touch. However, none of this followed suit. Instead, Saeran merely yanked his hand out of your grasp, casually wiping fresh blood on his pants and huffing under his breath. Much softer than expected.

"I don't need your pity. In addition, I'm not a weakling like Ray to whine and shed tears over some stupid scratch. Who do you even take me for, huh?"

You furiously shook your head, reaching out for his hand again.

"It's not just a scratch, Saeran! And even if it was a simple scratch, my opinion would not change at all. I don't pity you, I sincerely want to help you. Please... I'll do whatever you tell me in return - just let me help you this one time. I beg you."

The last thing you wanted was to let him endure his pain like this, gritting his teeth like he always did. He used his hands all the time, dealing with injuries like this would be dreadful! You were sure that he could endure this with ease, but... You did not want him to endure pain from the very beginning. 

Not again. 

Saeran hissed, taking a step towards you threateningly and lifting your chin toward him with his good hand.

"This is the first time I hear you finally begging me for something, and it is because you want to 'help' me so much? You're definitely not right in the head, toy. I'm not Ray, you realize that!? If you hope to get him back and rid of me by such bizarre behavior - you are even more stupid than I thought!"

You frowned at the crooked grin that twisted his features into the expression of total hostility. Despite his threatening tone, you continued to look straight into his eyes, wanting to prove your sincerity one way or another.

"I know that you're not Ray... I'm thinking about you right now, Saeran, not about him. I know that you can't trust me yet... And I don't want to take away your choice on that matter. But what you're saying about my motives is not true at all. Let me prove it to you."

Please, let me in. 

Your words were dangerous, you knew that. No one can predict his reaction to something so blunt and brash coming from you. The beat of your heart echoed against your chest with such heaviness that you were afraid he'd be able to hear it at such close proximity. And yet... You didn't back down. No, you refused to back down. After all, you were ready to fight for Saeran as hard as you were ready to fight for Ray. This won't change.

To your surprise, with a hollow chuckle, a small smirk appeared on Saeran's lips, quite different from what you had seen on his face before.

"Such a foolish flower..." 

This nickname didn't come off as humiliating or demeaning to you, instead, taking on new colors that you had not yet been able to understand. But to hear his voice so calm and even... You certainly liked that.

Too afraid to destroy this fragile moment of vulnerability between you two, you just kept staring into his eyes, trying to capture every little detail in his face.

Taking the last slow step towards you, he now stood close enough for you to discern tiny marks of pale freckles scattered upon his cheeks. This made the desire to look away almost unbearable. Ugh... You could feel how hot your face was, it's embarrassing! You had never felt so vulnerable in front of Saeran before... And yet, there was not a single hint of fear or doubt in your heart towards him. Maybe he really is right.

Maybe you're not right in the head. 

But still, against all odds, when Saeran once more grabbed your hand in his and pulled you towards him, causing you to stumble awkwardly towards him. Any preconceptions floating in your head before were completely shattered. He was mesmerizing in the soft moonlight, like an angel. You couldn't see him as a monster no matter how hard you tried.

He wasn't a shield or a sword... He was just an ordinary person, he was... Saeran. And what could be more beautiful than that?

The sound of his velvety muffled voice next to your ear snapped you out of your daydreams instantly, making you feel quite embarrassed about your own thoughts just now.

"Don't think you can just tempt me with your kind words like you did with Ray, got that? If you hope that this will work, then you are deeply mistaken. But... I'll give you this one chance. After all, it won't hurt to finally put my toy to some good use for once. Be grateful for it."

Giving you another grin, he simply turned around and pulled you along without taking his hand off yours. All that escaped you was a confused 'uh-', before you were dragged further along the neat path of light sand. You blinked, finally catching up with Saeran's wide steps and looking over your shoulder at the rose bush disappearing behind you. A genuine warm smile lit up your features.

"You know, Saeran... Even though a red rose once was a symbol of war and cruelty... Now, this flower brings love into the lives of people all over the world. Even despite its thorns, it brings so much happiness and joy into our hearts every single year... Its past mistakes don't represent it today. Once upon a time, someone looked at this flower and saw something beautiful in it. I think... This definitely proves the strength and resilience of a red rose. It does fit you quite well, you know."

For a second, just for a split second, his pace faltered, and a truly shocked pair of mint eyes darted to your face, so fleetingly that you might have thought you were just imagining it. In a moment, this temporary show of weakness faded, and Saeran turned back to your path back to Magenta, huffing under his breath.

"You are speaking nonsense, toy."

However, the way his fingers curled softly around your own and how his pale cheeks flushed with a faint pink hue told you more than even a thousand words ever could

#mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #mm #saeran choi #choi saeran #mystic messenger saeran #mm saeran #suit saeran #suit saeran x reader #saeran x reader #my writing #woo this bad boy is finally finished!! #gonna babble in the tags for a minute sorry #can you believe that this was originally supposed to be a small drabble I wanted to finish for last monday? #yeah I can't either #but it was a ton of fun to write #don't know if Saeran is maybe too soft though TT #I wanted to sorta flesh out his relationship with the reader and show how it progressed #as apposed to how quickly and chaotically it happen during the game #ok maybe I just wanted some soft Suit moments don't bully me #but anyway I REALLY hope he isn't too OOC here #and even if he is #hey we all want him to hold our hand so it's a win either way! #posting this at an inconvenient time but oh well

[fancifulflora]

Hello! Can I request ❛ i haven’t laughed like this in a long time. ❜ prompt with Dara? 👀 I hope you have a good day<3

Thank you! I hope you have a lovely day as well. Honestly, I was a lil stuck with this one since there were so many ways this could go but I'm happy with how it turned out considering I'm awful at writing humor normally kjzshfdkja

---------

The governing body of Arsur was like a well-oiled machine with its Crown fully situated in their rightful position. Simple messengers, attendants, and officials alike moved smoothly through the halls of the palace- their arms filled with the reports, scrolls, and missives that acted like the lifeblood of the country.

Yet, even with the players of the court doing their part in the day-to-day, there was a need for oversight. Inspections, to ensure that there were no problems in each part of the Imperial household and beyond.

While these check-ins would normally be conducted by the Ears or Eyes of the Crown, someone trusted with relaying any misdeeds or discrepancies to the Ministers or the Crown themselves- the Crown was taking the initiative today.

Or at least, that was the excuse they were planning to give any dissenters as the ruler of Arsur double-checked the schedule their Sorcerer helped laid out for them- the "inspection" of the Imperial Guard and armies slotted for most of their day.

Marvelous.

After all, a ruler should be allowed to look over the forces in charge of protecting their safety and the safety of the country. If for the sake of their own peace, no?

The added bonus of being around their beloved was just a small coincidence- a little cherry on top of the schedule, one that they deserved after days and days of long meetings and sleepless nights slaving over papers.

The Crown stopped in their tracks, their own train of thought coming to a halt alongside them- just outside the doors to Dara's office.

Voices. Did they hear that correctly?

Were they interrupting a meeting?

With a steeled resolve and a hand pressed against the polished wood, the Crown entered- eyes widening a little in awe at the truly rare sight before them.

The Pale Sword and Dara, eating together- and in peace at that?

"This is certainly a surprise," the ruler mused, watching Dara quickly spring up upon their arrival- the mercenary lazily raising after him and bowing.

"Your imperial majesty," the two called out in unison- one voice filled with regard while the other laced itself with mirth.

Dara gave a sharp look to the mercenary but chose to hold his tongue this time. Darting his eyes back to his love- the stern lines in his face smoothed themselves out nearly as fast as they came.

"Please, feel free to join us," the general invited, a hand moving to gesture to the seat beside him while the pain in his ass on his right helped themselves to even more food- the two settling back to their seats once the Crown joined them.

The mercenary grinned wide as they watched the Crown make themselves comfortable with a cup of tea, opting to recline back against their seat to answer the unspoken question hanging in the air.

"You're quite fortunate, your imperial majesty, I'm probably not going to be in the city for long- just enough to do a couple jobs for my beloved schemer over here."

Dara rolled his eyes at the nickname, taking a proactive measure of moving the plates of cheese and fruit just a little bit further from the mercenary's reach and closer to the two of you. "Praise the Spirits for that."

A gasp of indignation brought a smile to your face as the Pale Sword placed a hand on their nearly exposed chest- mouth agape in their mock anger.

"You certainly couldn't mean that! After all, if my memory serves me correctly- were you not the one that called me here?"

"For business," Dara responded curtly, biting back the scowl on his face with a few pieces of fruit.

"Not all business, I'm afraid." the hero chuckled, winking at the now flustered general- his face turning a bright hot red at the unbecoming implications the Pale Sword was weaving.

Far too used to their back and forths by now and unable to help themselves, the Crown leaned forward on the table- their face nestled in their hands. "Oh? Should I have given the two of you some privacy then? A thousand apologies," Their teasing voice crooned- another snort of laughter escaping them.

"No! No." Dara rubbed his temples, the tips of his ears still warm from the mix of embarrassment and irritation. "Forgive me, your majesty, it was simply a request- nothing more."

"A favor, one I'm happy to do," The Pale Sword corrected, making a quick move to snatch up the egg that Dara was gunning for and pop a bite in their mouth.

Jackal. They were enjoying this far too much.

Still... the comment did get a smile from the Crown.

The rest of the meal went about as you'd expect from the duo, the mercenary harassing and provoking Dara at every turn- the general returning each proverbial blow with one of his own.

When it came time to actually inspect the troops, the Crown was surprised to see the hero tagging along- their questions brushed off with a casual wave of the Pale Sword's hand.

"Might as well hang around a bit, being around Muscles and you here beats the 'logistics' Heval's going to want to go over with me."

Dara just shook his head at the comment, offering up his arm to the Crown as they walked. "Delaying the inevitable? Characteristic of you, I suppose."

"You can be so judgemental," the mercenary whined, stretching out their limbs as they followed the couple around the training grounds.

Dara did his best to ignore the pout on the hero's face.

"What a stupid thing to say," Dara quipped before turning back to the tour he was supposed to be giving, the irony of his words not lost on either the Crown or the Pale Sword who shared a look of amusement together.

They were doing this to Dara on purpose, weren't they?

Fortunately for the general, the torment soon ended as the mercenary said their goodbyes in the late afternoon- leaving to wherever in the forest they were holed up for the next few weeks and more importantly... leaving the two to their own devices.

"It was certainly kind of you to let them follow us around," the Crown smiled, giving Dara's arm a firm squeeze. "Walk me to my room?"

"They go where they please... and it would be my honor," his voice was softer, lighter- a small mutter under the clamor of swords and battle as the general kept his gaze trained forward.

They couldn't be too affectionate in public now. The longing gazes and sweet words would have to wait till they were out of sight from the rest of the soldiers.

As they made their way back into the palace, the Crown couldn't help but sneak a look at their general, small questions beginning to brew in the back of their mind at the sight of a pleased smile on his face.

"Dara?"

"Yes, your imperial majesty?" He hummed, now daring to look at his Crown- allow the fondness in his gaze to reveal itself from behind his eyes.

"You didn't have to let them join us, did you?"

"I didn't," Dara confirmed with a nod, returning his attention to the hall and giving the Crown's hand the tiniest squeeze. "I could have had that buffoon escorted out at any moment."

"But you didn't."

"Indeed." their general affirmed, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Oh, was he having fun with this now?

"Dara Sîdar, are you being facetious with your Crown?" the ruler gasped- raising a hand to their lips in a half-hearted attempt to hide the bright smile on their face as they turned around the corner- now at the door to their bedroom. This was certainly a rare side to him, but not an unwelcome one.

"I wouldn't dream of it," Dara murmured, a spare glance given over the shoulder to ensure that they were out of sight before gently guiding their love over to them by the chin- a chaste kiss pressing against the Crown's forehead.

"So why suffer all day long?"

It was the general's turn this time to laugh, pulling back from their embrace as he shot the ruler of Arsur an amused, yet accusatory look.

"I am not blind to the amusement my suffering brings you, my love." the general's thoughts pull back to the weight that was crushing their partner as of late, the strain and wear that no amount of glittering gold could hide from his notice. "A few hours with that thorn in my side was a small sum to pay."

So the 'request' he had made earlier- the schedule the sorcerer had made you today, it was all because of him.

"You planned this." the Crown whispered softly - their golden eyes sparkling under the lamplight, a warm glow on their face as two hands found their way to either side of Dara's face. " I suppose it did work- I haven't laughed like this in a long time."

"It did take some planning, but seeing you- unburdened, was well worth it," Dara reassured, not wishing for their Crown to feel any unnecessary weight on his behalf. "It was certainly good for morale-for the soldiers to see you."

That earned the general another laugh, the Crown brushing their lips against his own- the general instinctively snaking an arm around their waist to steady the two of them.

A silly, flimsy justification for his plot.

This drawn-out moment of bliss between them ended when the Crown pulled away for air, leaning against Dara for support- pressing their forehead against their general's.

"You didn't have to do all this on my behalf"

Closing his eyes, Dara took in a slow breath- the feeling of the Crown against the scales of his armor calming.

"No, I didn't have to," the general agreed, voice lowering to a deep rumble.

"I wanted to."

#A Tale of Crowns #dara/delal #Fluff #Drabble #SFW #xelara/xelef #x will remember this #acts of service is his love language I cant help it #dara will never live down letting himself get clowned all day- just to make you laugh and smile #a small price to pay for you having a less stressful day #knowing dara he prob did a shit of ton of work to free up his afternoon for this lol #i cant believe i had to edit this to add the phrase that i was supposed to have the entire time #oops #atoc

[padfootastic]

okay so ik @impishtubist’s sirius & harry saturday has already turned into sad sirius sunday and i’m v late but i’m stubbornly posting this still (does the little bit of grief in between count for the latter?) set in my kiddie harry universe. sirius as an overly attached, overprotective dad & harry as the cutest kid on earth.

The first time Harry asks to go to a friend’s house, Sirius damn near has a panic attack.

It’s not like he keeps the kid locked up like a prisoner, okay? Harry goes to a primary school—he’s made friends there and everything—and they have regular visits out into the muggle world,, along with the occasionally wixen day trips, preferably abroad because the English counterparts still treated Harry like a character out of a book rather than a human and that was the last thing he wanted for him.

It’s just that…all of those are supervised trips. Sirius is always there, and in the event that he’s not—like school—there’s people who’ve been thoroughly vetted and approved who are. So he’s a bit paranoid, sue him. It’s not like he doesn’t have good cause for it. Harry’s just a baby, couldn’t even protect himself yet, how was he supposed to be safe out there—all on his own?

So when he comes home from primary one day, bouncing excitedly on his feet, a piece of paper clutched in his chubby fist, Sirius has no reason to be concerned at first. He can only smile at the excited display in front of him.

“Whatcha got there, Harry?”

“Is an ivitashun!”

“A what?” Sirius blinks, looking closer at the paper.

“Ms. Kate said you call people with it.”

“Call…people…” Sirius mutters under his breath, trying to figure out where Harry was going. Sometimes his interpretation and the general meaning of a word was, well, vastly different, “Oh, an invitation!”

“That’s what I said, silly Siri,” Harry giggles, booping Sirius—who’d crouched down to his level—on the nose. 

“Sure you did, baby.” Sirius runs an affectionate hand over his messy hair. “Where’s the party?” 

“Emma’s house!” 

Oh. 

Emma’s house.

Sirius didn’t realise there was an actual party. He was under the, apparently mistaken, impression that it was a school event and they were making it a thing. To hear that it was at someone else’s house, no matter a classmate, was…jarring, to say the least. 

“Is it her birthday, babe?”

“Uh huh! She’s turning six,” he says in a tone of wonder, the way kids do sometimes where they whisper things a little too loudly.

“Oh wow, that’s so cool,” he replies in the same tone. “Can I see the invitation, please, Harry?”

The paper is thrust in his face and Harry goes running out the living room, presumably in search of a snack. Sirius doesn’t pay it much attention, mind more focused on the ‘Your kid…Harry…is invited to Emma’s supercalifragilisticexpialidocious—‘ what in merlin’s underpants did that mean? ‘—sixth birthday bash! Bring yourself and a smile’ Well. That was appropriately cheesy for a kid’s invitation.

But, and this was important, it didn’t say anything about things of actual importance—like what was the security going to be like? How many people would be there? Was Sirius invited along with Harry and if he wasn’t, how rude would it be to just barge his way in and stay there? Because it wasn’t…he didn’t think he could just leave his kid like that, not in a way he hadn’t had a chance to thoroughly examine.

Okay, if Lily was here, she’d probably tell him he was being too ridiculous and this was just a kid’s party and you can let him go five feet away from you, Sirius but she wasn’t here, which means he can be as overprotective as he wants.

Step one, therefore, is finding out what the appropriate etiquette for these things is. A quick phone call to Moony — ‘My school wasn’t as posh as this, Padfoot, we just kicked each other around in the mud’ — that’s more unhelpful than not and another to Ms. Katherine where his eccentric upbringing excuse was still going strong, he has the information he needs. Parents weren’t just invited, but also expected, which calms one part of him down.

The next was to figure out what an appropriate gift for a to-be-six year old girl is. He decides that one is better left to the person in the house who actually knows said girl, so he goes looking for his wayward godson.

Finds him sprawled stomach-side down on the rug in the living room, rubbing his face back and forth across the soft fur lining. Sirius can’t help but smile at the sight- it was remarkably similar to how he’d nuzzle against Padfoot.

“Harry,” he says, lying down beside him.

“Mhm?” Harry’s eyes are closed and there’s a blissful expression on his face. Sirius, who has his face half mushed into the rug as well, gets it.

“What kind of a present do you want to get Emma?”

A blink and a pair of emerald eyes peek at him curiously. “Presents?”

“You know, gifts, because it’s her birthday. Remember how I got you the Quidditch set for yours this year? And you made me that pretty card we stuck on the cupboard?”

Harry’s mouth opens in a prolonged ‘O’ and he nods quickly. “I love the ‘ditch set, Siri.”

“I know,” Sirius tweaks his nose playfully, earning a high pitched squeal in return. “So, what do we want for Emma?”

An adorably thoughtful look takes over his godson’s face—eyebrows furrowed and lips pushed out in a pout. “She…likes…games?”

“Oh?” Sirius encourages. “What kind?”

“She’s real good at running. We play hide ‘n seek aaaall the time and no one can found her,” Harry says excitedly.

“No one can find her, baby,” Sirius corrects. “Is there anything else she’s good at? Running’s a hard one to find gifts for.”

“Hm,” Harry’s pout extends further outward as his brain works harder. “Soccer! She plays with us at lunch. Miss Sia, from the other class, she told her to come in yes’day, and then Emma said ‘no, I wanna play!’ and then Miss Sia got real ang’y ‘cause she don’ like girls playing outside—”

“Who told you that part, Harry?” Sirius leans in. (Is this what his life had come down to now? Inordinate interest in primary school shenanigans?)

“Robbie,” Harry answers with a firm nod. “He knows all the teachers ‘cause he lives in the school.”

“He lives in the school?” Sirius repeats, biting his lip to stifle the threatening laughter.

“Uh huh, with his mummy and daddy, they live in the up floor.”

“Right—So, uh, Robbie told you Miss Sia doesn’t like it when girls play outside?” Sirius tries to bring the conversation back on track, the residential situation of Robbie not a concern at the moment.

“Uh huh.”

“And then Miss Robbie asked Emma to come in when she was playing soccer with you guys?”

“Uh huh. But Emma din’ go ‘cause she wanted to kick the ball an’ it was her turn an’ it takes sooooo long to get the ball an’ if she went then it—”

“Woah there, babe, calm down,” Sirius places a hand on Harry’s back when he doesn’t pause at all, encouraging him to take a breath in between the endless stream of words. He pulls a face at being interrupted but does it nonetheless. “Do you think she’d like a soccer ball of her own to play with, then?” Sirius asks, when Harry’s breathing has come back to normal and his face doesn’t look quite so red anymore.

“A soccer ball?” he echoes. 

“Mhm, like how you have a little broom like mine and daddy’s, right? Emma can have a little ball like the one grown ups have.” 

“Woah,” Harry’s glasses make his wide eyes look even bigger, like looking at a microscope and Sirius doesn’t resist the urge to coo, not this time. He leans forward to grab the boy with both hands and with a twist-and-turn manoeuvre, manages to roll onto his back and plop the kid on his stomach. 

“Siri!” He claps his hands in glee at the sudden change in altitude.

“Harry!” Sirius bounces him a few times before he settles, bringing Harry down to lay down on his chest, his head tucked under his chin and tiny fists curled along his sternum. He presses his lips to soft, black hair in a gesture somewhere between a kiss and a promise.

A mini soccer ball it is.

x

A few days later, godfather and godson, wearing matching leather jackets and denims, stood outside Emma’s house. Sirius had worn his usual assortment of rings, bracelets, and jeans—finding himself partial towards the ripped, skinny ones that were popular these days—with his hair up in a half bun. Harry, upon seeing his beloved godfather, had sat his butt down in his nursery and proclaimed he wouldn’t move until he got the same treatment. So, a few minutes and some creative magic-ing later, you had a miniature Sirius Black in his very own monogrammed leather jacket, jeans (neither ripped nor skinny, thank you very much) and butterfly hair clips pushing his not-long-but-definitely-unruly hair out of his face. Sirius had peppered his face with quite a few kisses before they’d even stepped out of the house. It wasn’t his fault that he had such an adorable godson, was it?

“Padfoot, can I, can I, can I, pweaaaaaase?” Harry’s close to bouncing on his toes in excitement, craning his neck to look at the house as if he can see through it.

Sirius hefts Harry into his arms in answer, being careful not to knock the glitter-wrapped ball or the host’s gift in his hands. “Careful you only ring once, okay? We don’t want to be a nuisance.” 

“I’m never nu’sance!” Harry replies, affronted, but obediently presses the button just once. Sirius takes it a point of pride that his five year old godson knows what the word means to be affronted by his usage of it. He kisses his cheek in wordless apology just as the door opens and a tall brunette steps out.

“Hello!”

“Hi! I’m Harry Potter and me an’ Emma are in the same class and we play soccer together and she called me for da party today,” Harry says in one single breath before starting the next one. “She gave me an in-va-tashun and all too, miss. Is she here- I don’t see her.”

“Maybe you would if you let Emma’s mum get a word in, baby,” Sirius says, lightly chiding. He shoots an apologetic look at the other woman who only snorts in repose with a wave of her hand.

“You forget I have a motormouth of my own, Mr. Potter.”

Sirius winces, burying the lance of pain before it can make itself known on his face. “Black—that is, I’m Sirius Black, this one’s godfather. Please call me Sirius. I’d shake your hand but—” he shrugs helplessly, showing his occupied arms in the action.

“Sirius…” she repeats thoughtfully, looking between him and Harry. He wonders what she sees in that moment, with them looking the way they do. “I’m Rosalie. Come on in, please.”

“You’ve a lovely house,” Sirius says, carefully bending down so that Harry can stand on his own two feet while not dropping their presents. “We got you a little present.” He extends the longer, distinctly wine shaped box to her, watching as she takes it in grateful surprise.

“Oh, but you didn’t have to! It’s not my birthday, after all,” she smiles, both at him and Harry. It’s the latter who answers, however.

“It’s polite when you visit, Miss!”

Sirius smothers a smile when he sees the effect his words have on Rosalie. She visibly melts, almost putting a hand on her chest if it wasn’t for the bottle, and thanks the two of them again.

“All the kids are in the garden outside, and there’s a little patio there with chairs and the like for us parents. My husband Gerard has a barbecue set up out there.” Sirius, keeping one hand on Harry’s shoulder, guides them in the direction Rosalie points them to, depositing the gift on a nearby table where similarly wrapped packages are stacked.

When he reaches the patio where everyone’s gathered, there’s a good amount of adults overlooking the ground where a mini army of kids are…doing…something? He squints, trying to get a better idea, and almost immediately makes the executive decision to not go there because he can see someone being buried in the ground and someone else pelting others with…mud cakes? Yeah. No thanks. He’ll just sit calmly and cleanly with the other guardians, he thinks with a silent shudder.

“You go have fun, okay?” he kneels in front of Harry, making a cursory attempt to get his hair to lie down flat. “I’ll be right here if you need me, darling.”

Making he’s feeling a bit more affected than he realised if that term slipped out. Hm.

“I know, I can see you, silly Siri!” Harry shakes his head at his godfather’s abundance of caution before pressing a kiss to his cheek and running off towards the site of chaos. Sirius stares after him with a pinched look until he realises he’s being ridiculous, Harry isn’t going anywhere other than the closed garden, and he’s just being an overly attached, codependent mess right now. So he stands up and walks over to one of the empty chairs, calmly sitting down and not dropping into it like he wants to.

“Hello,” he nods at the assorted guardians sipping on their—wine coolers and mimosas? Some people are having fun, at least.

“Hi,” one of the guys leans forward with an outstretched hand and that leads to a chorus of greetings and introductions. Sirius settles back with his own glass of cola and a polite smile, opting to observe the kids—one in particular—rather than mingle with the others. He’s trying to go for a cool, detached vibe but he suspects his grip on the glass is rather telling.

A loud “Are you okay, Sirius?” distracts him from his intent perusal. He turns to look at one of the mothers looking at him in concern and smiles at her.

“Yes, yes, of course. It’s just—this is Harry’s first party and I don’t often see him around kids his age.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I know he has friends, Miss Katherine keeps me updated on that but this—” He nods towards the laughing gaggle of kids who’ve moved on to something that involves various balls, a net, and three separate kinds of bats that he can’t make any sense of. “—it’s pretty novel for me.”

He can almost hear the ‘awwww’ his answer garners and barely represses a grimace. So much for not coming across as an over attached weirdo.

“Well, we meet up pretty often with the kids—parks, theme parks, day visits and the like, so you’re welcome to join us anytime.” she smiles kindly and and it’s…such a small thing but Sirius is hit with a wave of gratitude so hard he’s almost dizzy with it.

For the past few years, he’s been doing this thing alone—he hasn’t regretted a minute of it, not when it was the only option that gave him the chance to be with Harry, to see him grow up like this—and it’s been…tough, to say the least. He has minimal contact with others in their world, only occasionally enters wixen spaces because he’s so deathly afraid of someone coming near Harry. Remus comes by occasionally but he’s travelling, more often than not, and Sirius doesn’t have it in to fight for his attention the way he used to, not when he’s trying to parent full time in an unfamiliar environment. Some days, Sirius feels like he’s drowning and there’s not enough air in his lungs to keep him afloat. The grief of being not just lonely, but alone is too heavy to bear. Some days, he feels like he’s failing not just his godson but his dead best friend whom he promised his life and soul to. How can he take care of Harry the way he deserves if he’s barely living himself?

It’s why the innocent offer of kiddie dates has his clearing his throat alarmingly loud. It’s an olive branch he hasn’t received before, not in the barren landscape he’s found himself in. 

“Thank you. I…I really appreciate that,” he says, trying but unable to express how much it means to him. He’s saved from trying to justify his disproportionately emotional reaction by an excited Harry barrelling straight into his knees.

“Siri, Siri, Siri!” he chants, fingers curling into the rips of his jeans. “Guess what?”

Sirius taps his chin with one finger, exaggerated look of concentration on his face. “Hmmm. The sky is purple today?” Harry, bless him, actually looks up to check that one before shaking his head rapidly. “Okay, is the ground made of chocolate?”

“How can ground be choc’ate?” Harry asks with a look of confused wonder thrown over his back. It’s the look of contemplation that gets Sirius, who immediately backtracks as he realises the possible consequences of his words.

“No no, it can’t be. It was just be being a dum-dum, babe.” He leans forward to pluck Harry off he ground, seating him comfortably on his knees. “Will you please tell me what’s up now?”

Harry leans in close, conspiratorial grin on his face. “Emma said she wan’s to p’ay soccer after we eat our food.”

“Did she, really?” Sirius gasps. “That makes it convenient, doesn’t it?”

“Uh huh,” Harry nods his head so hard he almost falls back, if not for Sirius’ hand coming to rest protectively over his back, large enough that it covers most of it.

“Woah, you’ve to be careful there, baby. What if you fell over?” Sirius frets, tightening his grip on his godson and looking him over carefully. He didn’t fall, but that didn’t mean his heart wasn’t in his mouth at the near-miss. Instead of Harry laughing it off, or telling him he was being silly, though, he gets a large pout and crossed arms in response. He blinks, taken aback.

“Padfoot, no!”

“…No?”

“I’m not a baby. I’m a big boy now.” Harry had the most serious look on his face and Sirius doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. His baby boy, five years old, and already claiming to be too grown up for pet names. What next, he’d pack a suitcase and leave without a goodbye?

He looks helplessly at the other parents—surely they’d know how to deal with this—and feels a prick of betrayal at the smiles they were trying to hide into their hands and behind their drinks.

“But…ba—honey, that’s not fair,” Sirius says—not whines but says in a perfectly adult-like tone.

“Not fairs?” Harry squints.

“You’ll always be my baby, what would I do if I can’t call you that?”

“But—but Emma and Char’ie and Ria aren’t babies,” he pouts, hands fiddling with the dog tags around Sirius’ neck.

“Did they tell you that?” Sirius asks gently, waiting for his kid’s nod before leaning down to place a long kiss to his brow. “Well, they’re not my babies, that’s for sure. That position’s only for you, my love.”

“Even if imma big boy?” Harry mumbles under his breath, fingers now firmly twisted into the silver chain.

“Especially if you’re a big boy,” Sirius confirms. He smooths a hand down Harry’s side, squeezing comfortingly. “And I bet if you ask their mums and dads, they’ll say the same thing.”

“Really?” Harry looked up at him with wide green eyes. Sirius nods, nudging him towards Rosalie, who’d been watching their interaction with a small smile playing on her lips. “You can go ask Ms Rosalie, if you want.” Harry chews on his lip for a second, contemplating, before letting out a firm nod and ‘Otay!’ One final squeeze and Sirius lets him clamber off his lap and towards the hostess.

“Ms Rosie! Ms Rosie!” he calls, adorably butchering her name though her smile says she doesn’t mind. “May I ask you a thing?”

“Of course you may, Mr. Harry,” she replies with an equal amount of seriousness in her voice.

Harry leans in close, turning his head this way and that, perhaps to check for eavesdroppers? “Is it true that Emma isn’t a baby no more?”

Rosalie covers her mouth with one hand, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, I know she thinks so but can I tell you a secret, Harry?” His godson nods eagerly, head dipping even further. “Between you and me, she’s still my baby, even if she’s six years old.”

Harry gasps, looking at her with wide eyes before turning back to look at Sirius who’s been watching the whole thing play out. He winks at him and Harry’s mouth falls open a little.

“That’s an adorable kid you’ve got there,” he hears from the space next to him and answers without taking his eyes off his kid. “I know, he’s the best.” Just as he does, Harry comes running back to him.

“Sirius!”

“Harry!” he echoes.

“I speaked to Ms. Rosie—”

“I spoke, love.”

“—Mhm, tha’s what I said. I spoke to Ms. Rosie and she said,” he leans in close, and though his whisper’s loud enough to be heard by everyone it’s the intent that matters, “that Emma’s still a baby.”

Sirius spreads his arms in a ‘there you go’ manner that Harry interprets for a hug—not that anyone’s complaining—climbing onto him like a portable jungle gym and making himself comfortable on his lap.

“So, are we agreed then?” Sirius tweaks his nose. “You’re still my baby?”

“I suppose.” Harry heaves a great sigh, and the sound of it is so incongruous to the tiny body it’s emanating from that Sirius was lost to raucous laughter before he’d even realised it.

#sirius black #harry potter #good godfather sirius black #sirius and harry saturday #listen this literally ran away from me it was supposed to be a drabble #now it’s over 3k of literally pointless fluff like wtf #i was having way too much fun with this universe #there’s a gratuitous overuse of petnames here #and sirius being so smitted w his baby boy #also am i trying to create an army of irrelevant one time use ocs that would give sirius the support he deserves? mayhaps #none of them r too important in the larger scheme but they have roles to play #also toddler/kid speech patterns r still foreign to me #so forgive continuity errors pls thx #this entire thing started from me wanting to write harry saying ‘i’m not a baby #i’m a big boy’ and sirius just being. floored. just : o #i think i’ve succeeded? #also i hope i conveyed the vibe that sirius and baby harry can go on for hours uninterrupted #no issue is too big or small for them #harry isn’t the only motormouth in this household ;) #pen’s writing #pen’s favourites

[catboii]

← Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 → Full Thread

[Excerpt taken from Agent 23's personal diary]

[Day ####]

Today was much better!

The Overseer ‘approved my request to approach’. It sounds so formal but all I did was sit inside one of the interlocks for a few hours. There were still 2 doors in the way. The glass around and in them is unbreakable. 

The Anomaly seemed much more animated once I was inside and it could see me. It was almost as if it didn’t realise I was actually outside this whole time, like maybe it thought the speaker was connected up from far away and it was still all alone in this place, could explain why it acted weird when shadows passed the window.

Maybe it was just lonely. 

I know I would be if I was shut up in an empty room on my own forever. 

I read it some more articles from the book, and it seemed happy with that. It sat in front of the glass just looking at the pages with me. I would leave it here for it to look at one of the pictures while I’m gone, but I was told to not leave anything, even inside the interlocks, and the decontamination team have to clean it out after I’m done with the daily observations, ‘so there are no hair or skin cells left inside’. There’s no evidence that this Anomaly can interact with anything like that, even if not through the doors, but it’s standard practice. ‘You can’t be too careful with these creatures’. 

~~~~~

[Day ####]

Today is different. 

White noise is playing over the environmental speakers, a gentle, low-pitch static in the background. 

The Overseer asks Agent 23 to sit inside the room with the Anomaly. Face to face. They believe it’s not a threat and there should be enough trust built up by this time. It’s been several weeks now, and there have been no negative observations, not even a ‘decline to interact’. 23 is happy to oblige, as she feels like the Anomaly is lonely and might like some company. She’s been hoping she can get a little closer. She knows she shouldn’t drop her guard too much, but she really can’t see this creature being more than just a mildly intelligent animal. She can’t see why it’s so dangerous. She’s dealt with mostly non-dangerous Anomalies so far, so maybe she is a little biased, but if it was dangerous then it wouldn’t be on this level, and she wouldn’t be allowed near it, surely. 

As they go through the instructions on how to unlock each individual door to the triple interlock system, ‘and most importantly, closing and locking the previous door first’, Agent 23 goes to take the chair, but the Overseer stops her, saying she can’t take it, just in case it tries to use it as a weapon. 23 is confused as the creature is tiny, it can’t possibly lift an entire metal chair. 

She proceeds inside each chamber in turn. Once she’s inside the first and the door is locked behind her, she turns to see the creature, ready and sitting in the same spot when they were reading the book. It tilts its little crow-like head, seeming to be looking toward her empty hands. She looks down and holds them out in an almost shrug, as if to say ‘yep. No book’.

She starts the process of unlocking the next door, and the creature steps back for a moment. 

Once she has the door open and she’s stepped through, it takes a step back toward her. Once she’s sure that that door is closed and locked, she turns back to the next door. While unlocking this one, the creature gets so close to the glass that it’s almost pressing its beak to the glass. 23 thinks it may be trying to see what she’s doing, but luckily the keypad has a shield around the edges, and all the glass is anti-reflective, so nothing can be seen from inside the room. 

She decides to pause in this final chamber. It’s quite a sight to see all of the little rooms within a room. There’s the main door, then the three interlock doors, each with their own little chamber. 

The creature seems to think this is as far as she’s going, and it turns. 23 thinks, dejectedly, that it got bored of her and is now going to sit somewhere else, but it presses its side against the glass, leaning there near her. Leaning down, she reaches out her hand, touching the glass directly between them. The creature twists its head awkwardly to peer at her hand, and it pecks at the glass gently. 23 giggles, out loud, and the creature jumps, moving off from the glass. 

“Oh, I’m sorry little guy… Can you even hear me? Is this glass soundproof?” She reaches out to touch the glass in the same spot again, and the creature makes a quiet warbling sound as it headbutts the glass, right toward the palm of her hand. Since she can hear it, however faintly, she decides it can hear her, and she chuckles quietly to herself. 

Agent 23 takes a deep breath, stands determinedly, and unlocks the final door. It opens slowly, the quiet mechanical whirring sounding a little ragged, as if this door hasn’t been used much for a while. The possibly-crow has hopped back several feet, as if it was scared, but its peering over and appears to be thinking about moving closer. 

She takes a few cautious, slow steps forward, so as not to spook it, and she calmly sits herself on the concrete floor crosslegged. 

The anomaly just looks at her for a while, then very slowly takes a couple of steps toward her, and when it’s close enough, it pecks at one of her shoes, touching it once quickly with its beak, then backing off a few hops, then repeating. As it does this, 23 realises that it’s quite big for a normal crow… Maybe it’s a certain species of large raven or something. 

After a few cycles of peck and run, Agent 23 can’t help laughing, and this time the creature doesn’t seem to jump, but does tilt its head as if it's never heard laughing before. 

“Agent 23. I’m the one who’s been speaking to you. Through that-” she gestures to the intercom speaker, but as she raises her arm, the crow backs off, zooming halfway across the room. “I’m sorry. I’ll try not to… um. big?” She makes a wide gesture with her arms again, but much slower and with an apologetic look on her face. Once she drops her hands to her lap, she evaluates the creature's reaction, nods and concludes, “yeah, no more of that.” She emphasises by making a forcibly smaller gesture, hunching over and keeping her elbows pulled in. “Small gestures. Small voice.” 

Agent 23 has been reading and memorising the wildlife book, and looking up different animals on the internet, so she can recite it to the creature, and now is the perfect time, since she wasn’t allowed to bring the book. Eventually the creature makes its way back over to her, but it takes what feels like an hour, and six different animal descriptions and facts, for it to get comfortable enough to get within touching distance. She really wants to try and pet it, but she decides to resist, in case that’s a big no-go and she ruins the whole thing. 

“So do you have a favourite of those animals? Do you like the parrot? Or the fox?” The creature flaps its wings at the ‘fox’, and 23 smiles, and without thinking reaches out to pet it like she would her dog when she does something cute. The creature jerks back, and 23 pasuses, but doesn’t pull away, since the creature didn’t completely run off. She decides to push her luck, just a little… “No pets?” She gives it an almost disappointed look, like she’d be upset if she didn’t get to pet it. Like she does with her dog at home. 

After a moment, the crow drops its head and squints, seemingly investigating her hand. It seems to have made a decision, as it raises its head again, leaning toward her hand and turning so she can get a better angle. She slowly leans down with her hand, gently placing her palm on the top of the bird’s head, which is as large as her palm itself, and only more obvious in this position. She lets her fingers fall to cup the top of its head, slowly smoothing along its tiny head feathers, and it seems to relax after a few seconds. She does too, and she lifts her hand and brings it back up to start over. She pets it like this for a while, telling it more animal facts, and she notices its eyes have closed and it almost sounds like it’s purring. 

When she’s finished for the day, she’s told the animal about twenty different kinds of animals that she could remember from her amateur research, aside from four sea creatures which she thought were really interesting, but the crow stamped its little feet and grumped when she talked about them, so she surmised that it didn’t like hearing about fish. 

After closing up all the doors and returning to the corridor, the Overseer emerges, probably alerted to her leaving the chamber with the first door, and it’s taken this long for them both to get here. The Overseer travelled further, 23 just had more doors to traverse.

The Overseer waves a very executive looking clipboard at her to get her attention, as if it was necessary. “Ah. Agent 23. I was hoping I would catch you.” Yeah, they did get the door alert. “How did you find it?” 

For a moment, 23 isn’t sure how to answer. ‘How did she find it?’ not, ‘How did it go’ or ‘Did everything go as it should’, but a kind of personal angle. Unless she was reading too much into it. She opens her mouth to answer, then realises she has no idea what the answer is. How did she find it? “Do you mean, was it aggressive? Or…” 

“Oh heavens no. If it was aggressive we wouldn’t dare let it near anyone.” 23 smiles uneasily, there’s always something off about the Overseers, her’s less so normally, but right now, they feel as fake as the others. “No,”  they smile, “was it interested in you? Did it act like a normal animal? Pretend it’s just another little Bambi or Thumper?” 

After a moment of consideration, 23 decides to keep it as brief as possible. The cameras will show that she made physical contact with it, if they didn’t already know, but she could play it down. “Yeah”, she nods. “It seemed just like your average garden pigeon.”

The overseer almost bursts out laughing at this for some reason, and 23 just smiles politely. 

“So,” 23 continues, “do I continue to go into the room with it from now on?”

The overseer doesn’t hesitate in nodding enthusiastically, herding her down the hallway with their arm behind her, not quite touching, but close enough to make her uncomfortable. 

When 23 fills out her personal Work Journal that evening, she feels uneasy. She knows next to nothing about the origins of this Anomaly. It seems like it’s just a suspiciously intelligent bird, although the language used in the previous reports are very vague and overcautious, so she’s careful and respectful of procedures. She’s heard stories of Anomalies pretending to be friendly to just earn the trust of the Agents and then stab them in the back. Sometimes literally. 

Still, it’s hard to believe that could happen here.

#posted ooc. #drabble. #exp ts. #ts pt6. #scp stuff. #nearly 2k words woop woop #small letter. small voice. small baby bird. #i messed up the first exerpt was supposed to go in the last one to keep diaries and action posts separate. but nvm

[roalinda]

Here is a very small James Potter/ Sirius Black (prongsfoot) work thanks to my sudden urge to write today. Not my best work but there is never enough prongsfoot. So, yeah.

#James potter #Sirius black #Prongsfoot #Small work which was supposed to be a drabble #But it ended up longer #Maybe a ficlet or sth

[arcxnumvitae]

@bottleofbabes​ || Before this

“Salvatore Monticello?”

“Yes, our good ‘doctor’.” Akinori’s chair creaked as he leaned back. The man’s dark eyes kimmed over the papers strewn about his desk before they settled once more on his second-in command as she stood across the polished wooden expanse. “Have you heard of him?”

“Not much,” Tomoe admitted. “only that he’s operated in the United States thus far.” It was, frankly, impossible to keep track of every little group that operated outside of Japan, not when the groups in their country so far had managed to keep their hands full as it was. Tomoe raised a brow at her boss. “Are you looking to expand internationally? I’m admittedly surprised.”

That pulled a laugh from him. “Nah, not at this moment at least. Especially not when The Doctor’s been paying visits to our side of the ocean more and more frequently.” A small noise of understanding left Tomoe’s lips at that, now it was beginning to make more sense where he was going with this. The other man continued, “Previously, they were just visits and nothing more. I’ve got no problem with tourists, but now word’s reaching my ears that he’s beginning to settle down in Shinjuku. And on top of that, I’m hearing he’s friendly with the Nakamura as well.”

In a brisk movement, Tomoe settled down against the edge of the desk, her sharp eyes already turning distant. “Are we looking to stop his expansion?” To anyone else, sitting so casually atop the leader’s desk would have been a breach worthy of a reprimand at best, and a punishment at worst. But Tomoe was the exception to most rules of etiquette as it was, and he knew already from years of working together that the look in her eyes was her sinking into ‘planning mode’. She tended to forget propriety when she was deep in thought. “Does he threaten our profits in any way? Could he be allying with Nakamura Takuma?”

“I’m not looking to be that aggressive quite yet. So far he’s moving in but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll present any issues for us. Right now it would be more beneficial to make friendly with him. Which!” Akinori beamed up at her, a movement that instantly caused the woman’s lips to tug downwards in a frown, “is why I’ve organized a little meet and greet for you to give him a nice welcome gift!” A heavy sigh left her.

“Is there a reason why you, our fearless leader, aren’t doing it?”

“I’m afraid I have some business to tend to out of town, otherwise I actually would.” Akinori’s elbow rested against the desk and his palm cushioned his cheek. “But I’ve set everything already and there shouldn’t be any danger towards you. Only a simple meeting and some pleasantries. Your area of expertise.” Even if it hadn’t been clear on his face, it would have been impossible to miss the teasing smirk within his words. 

With a roll of her eyes, Tomoe rose to her feet and strode towards the door. “Be careful,” she called over her shoulder, “or else you’ll return from your trip to find I’ve defected to The Doctor’s group.”

Akinori’s laughter followed her out of his office. 

#bottleofbabes #{Tomoe Drabble #this wasn't supposed to be this long I only meant to write a little blurb #is it obvious enough I'm having fun writing Tomoe and Akinori? #anyways I just thought it'd be fun to go into their conversation before approaching #and yeah Niko's Nakamura get mentioned but it was so small I felt it'd be a bit 'much' to tag her #you can be the blue medium this time Blue and tell her for me that they were mentioned #😂 #wait I wrote you a novel in the tags but I can just tell you myself

[lieutenant-amuel]

The funny thing is that I remember how much I struggled with the title for the fourth chapter of "Was Born To Lead" (A New Beginning) and was never quite satisfied with it, but now, I realize it does make sense, considering I actually began to write a completely new story with this chapter.

#Was Born To Lead #I make way too many posts about this fic now it deserves its own tag #I mean originally 'Was Born To Lead' was supposed to be a drabble collection about Gabe's past #but the fourth chapter implied there was supposed to be a continuation so I wrote it #and then I wrote an absolutely random Ángel chapter and delved into Valerio's past.... #I mean Valerio was supposed to be important in the orginal concept as well but having his own storyline.... no I didn't expect that #Honestly I'm still not quite sure if I went in the right direction developing my own characters and creating an ongoing storyline #basically having nothing to do with canon and maybe at some points not even looking realistic enough for Gabe's actual backstory #And I'm pretty sure my OCs are one of the reasons for many people not to read it because you know when you read fanfiction #you want to read about the characters you already know and love #And my OCs may be just not interesting enough for that #But I... like what I'm doing? #Honestly looking back I realize that I wouldn't be able to make it drabble collection because we freaking nothing know about Gabe's past #I highlighted all the main CANON aspects in those first three chapters so continuation of it would imply writing headcanon ideas either way #And I made Gabe the actual main character of his story being surrounded by his friends family and other characters #who have their own lives as well #He has his own adventures fitting his personality and attitude #I try to highlight different aspects of his character bringing up some small details like him loving Antonia Agama or being bad at riddles #and more major ones like his conflict with Roberto and his subtle leadership makings #I mean I understand reading about OCs may be a bit annoying especially if you don't like them but there's still enough Gabe #and of the points of this story was to make it multi-layered so if you don't like one thing you may like another #I don't I'm probably too narcissistic and biased towards this fic but I genuinely enjoy working on it #Maybe it would be interesting for more people if I made it as a drabble collection #But I'm glad how it turned out eventually #There's supposed to be 'I know I'm probably' I'm just too lazy to fix it

[flordeamatista]

🐳 ✨

No. In seeing what happened to you, I wanted to show you the way a true friend treats a person, not just for the sake of a bridge. When I saw you were back on Tumblr, I was glad to see you. I took a chance and I didn't want to scare you, and also you know. You are truly a cute menace with the sweetest love to give.

send me a 🐳 and I'll tell you if you intimidate me or not + I’ll just tell you what I think about you

#love letter ask 💌 #lexi 🦋 #that ask it was suppose to be an small answer now I turned it into a Drabble but it’s now a fic over 1.5k 😂 #so thank you for giving me muse 😈 still working on it 🫡