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what-the--curtains · 3 years

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There are No Wolves in The Desert

(Oberyn Martell x f!reader)

Part 3 - An (in)Decent Proposal

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Summary: Oberyn makes you an offer you cant refuse.

Authors notes: Whoop here part 3 sorry this is taking SO long but I have no MOTIVATION (sang like jean ralphio)😭 Thank you for reading and sharing and commenting I love y all so much💕💕💕💕

TW: Mentions of incest (walder frey), mentions of alcohol, fighting

Word count: 4.9k

Tagged: @evyiione @xsadderdazeforeverx @agingerindenial @ayamenimthiriel

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The large wooden doors of your room slowly creak open rousing you from your restful slumber. You open one eye allowing yourself to adjust to the sun's bright rays that were coating your room's walls, brightening their pastel hues. You cautiously shift up, gaze locked on the door fingers clutched around your knife. Your fist relaxes as two figures enter the room, the first belonging to Shana who you recognized from last night and the other, to a younger girl. Shana walks towards the long table placing down the assorted fruits, breads and wine while the younger girl sits on your bed, slowly unscrewing a teal coloured jar’s lid. Your eyes follow her as she leans forward.

“Are you a Targareyn?” she asks, hand slowly hovering towards your face, intent on applying a cream to the area that had been forcibly rammed into a wall last night.

“No,” you respond, shifting back and out of her reach.

“You look like one,” she offers scooting closer to you determined to sooth your wound.

“Is that a compliment?” you ask, causing her to duck her head down in embarrassment, noticing her reaction, and feeling somewhat guilty you continue “My father was though, so I suppose in a way you are correct. You have a sharp eye, what is your name?” you query hoping to relieve any embarrassment.

“Kaina” she responds, eyes still on the bed spread.

“How old are you, Kaina?” you question, watching as an easiness washes over her as you allow her to apply the salve to your broken skin.

“Six and ten” she says, meticulously dabbing the mixture onto your face.

“Has the prince..ever.. propositioned you, ” you ask cautiously, curious as to the character of the man whose home you had been invited into.

“No, he has no eyes for children,” she says, redonning the jars lid.

“Which is more than you can say for the men of Westeros,” Shana quips as she appears at your side offering you a bowl of fruit which you take with a thank you. You pluck a raspberry from the bowl and pop it into your mouth, the freshness and sweetness delighting your tastebuds.

“That is very true, I knew of one man who married his own daughters,” you say, causing the two women to look at you horrified.

“When you age are you allowed to stay in the palace?” you query, ignoring their disdain for the practices carried out by the Frey family.

“Yes, we are allowed to stay or leave in order to continue our training if we wish,” Shana states

“Training?” you press.

“We are allowed to study here, I took up healing. Others like Shana learn to cook, others care for animals, or they train to fight, whatever they choose and they are allowed to come and go as they please,” Kaina states.

“You’re treated well here then? ”

“Yes, very much so” they both respond almost in unison.

“And are you paid well?”

“Yes, the princes both believe any service provided demands a payment. May I ask why you ask so many questions my lady?” Kaina ponders, her good nature causing you to smile.

“I am no lady, but I do take great value in the way a man treats his staff, especially those who hold less power than he. If I am to make a deal I wish to know whom I am making it with. I have no need to help abusers, ” you state as she recaps the salve that was now absorbing into your skin.

“A wise woman,” Shana states. “The prince is a good man, as is our king.”

“Neither of them would marry their own children,” the younger girl says standing again, horrified.

“Well that is good to hear,” you say with a soft chuckle,

“Do you need us to dress you my lady?” Shana offers, despite already knowing the answer.

“No I am quite alright thank you,” they curtsey and leave you to dress for the day. You pull on the lightweight leather armour before redonning your cloak, opting to leave the hood down, no point in hiding who you were now, at least while you were within the palace walls.

You stroll leisurely down the palace steps, admiring the limestone architecture and the gold detailing glimmering under the mid-morning sun. You watch the heat ripple as it rises off the metallic features. The day's warmth bears down on your face, even in the winter the dornish heat was nearly unbearable and infinitely warmer than Winterfell. Your head turns towards the sound of children laughing and you watch as two small blurs disappear round a corner, in chase of the butterflies flying throughout the palace. You continue through the garden hand ghosting along the Ivy leaves that snaked through the metallic fencing containing the gardens perimeter. You could easily see yourself getting lost amongst the vines, the winding paths leading off in multiple directions towards unknown destinations. You would return here another time, to truly admire the flora created by the old gods and the new. You stay true to your path for the time being, hoping to locate Oberyn so he could make light of his supposed proposition. You follow the faint metallic clammer echoing in the distance, the sound growing louder as you approach a large wooden arena. The training grounds were large, offering a place to train and exhibit the ornate and hypnotic fighting.

Their style was known across the seven kingdoms for being elegant and deadly, a combination you found paired well with at least one dornish individual you knew.

The arena's overhang offers you some shade, a luxury not afforded to those in the arena, you come to rest your forearms down on the palisade allowing your wrists to drape over the bannister as your shoulders relax. Oberyn's armour glimmers in the sun illuminating the sweat beaded over his tanned skin, a few loose strands of hair plastered to his forehead. You watch as he skillfully knocks his opponent to the ground before turning to you. You watch his charismatic features light up as he strides towards you allowing his opponent to regain his footing.

“Your beauty is greater than the messengers lead me to believe,” he states loudly, causing you to look down and shake your head, unsure what he hoped to achieve by shamelessly flirting with you.

“So you were spying on me,” you respond, ignoring his charms, much to his dismay. Your constant dismissal of his advances leaving him wondering if he had finally found someone immune to his charisma.

“We spy on anyone we think will be an ally or enemy to us, “ he says glancing back, not dropping his guard despite his opponents retreat to the arena's far side.

“Must be a long list,” you offer as he places his spear against the panelling, splashing his face with water before bending down to take a drink from one of the taps found throughout the city.

“Prior to his death, we wanted Robb Stark on our side, and you, or Lady Stark wherever she may be, we were told she was a ferocious warrior, ” he states, raising his eyebrows mischievously.

“Don't believe everything you hear. Though I suppose she owes you her life, perhaps a lesson in calligraphy would suffice, your handwriting is quite distinctive,” you smirk watching his head turn in faux shock before returning to his opponent.

“My time was better spent elsewhere,” he shouts back, blocking yet another shot brought forward by the palace guard. Turning he gracefully sweeps the legs out from beneath the man the entire ordeal lasting no longer than a few minutes.

“Pleasures of the flesh have far greater value to me than a pretty note,” he states clearly, turning to gauge your reaction. Despite you declining his advances the subject of sex appeared to have little to no effect on you. There was no giggle or blush that often came in the women of westeros who are told sex is a sacred act for man and wife.

“Too much time doing as you please and not nearly enough time spent doing what you should,” you state, a line your mother had frequently said when you trapsed throughout the forest instead of doing your housework. He looks at you, confusion and glee dancing on his face at your manner, or lack thereof, around him. Being a prince he wasn't used to such a direct tone. Others typically behaved themselves around him, either out of fear or admiration. Though neither were nearly as tantalizing as those who readily disregarded his status with such cutting wit.

“On your left,” you remark, allowing him to catch the oncoming hit just in time. He nods for the man to leave the arena leaving you alone with Oberyn.

“Shall we?” he calls out, and you cock your head to the side.

“You said you wished to practice, you care to try your luck,” he asks, swinging around grinning as he gestures to the large space.

“Luck won't have anything to do with me beating you,” you quip hopping over the panelling and into the arena.

“You need four weapons to defeat me?” he taunts from afar. You shoot him a look as you stab your knife into the ground before removing the quiver and bow placing them against the wall. You turn on the tap and splash your face with the water, flicking the remainder off your hands as you turn and walk into the sun towards your opponent.

“Just two which by my count is one less than you,” you offer.

“I only have one,” he explains

“The spear is long, has two ends, two weapons. Besides you have a shield. Shield counts as a weapon,” you state.

“And you don’t choose to fight without one,” he says, dropping the shield so you have no excuses for his impending victory.

“Don’t need a shield if the enemy is dead before they can reach you,” you explain.

“Cocky”, he says twirling the spear hitting the blunt end into the ground before pointing it forward and bending at the knees in preparation.

“You say as if you are not yourself,” you retort, arms reaching back and removing the swords twirling them before entering your own stance. He’ll make the first move, of that you're sure. He does as you expect, allowing you to stop the hit with your swords crossing them into an ‘x’ and using their combined force to push his spear up and to the side as you uncross them. His underestimation of your strength leaves him off balance as you spin around aiming for his knees. He manages to regain his footing and jumps easily over your sword showing off the flashy fighting style you’d expected of a dornish prince.

“Perhaps not as poor a fighter as you thought,” you state, ducking as he swings his spear around to hit you. Without breaking motion he spins the weapon above his head bringin it down almost hitting you had you not dropped to the ground. Rolling behind him you twirl your swords around and jab the hilts into the back on his knee. He falls to his knees and before he can formulate his next move you stand and kick his weapon out from his hand. He teeters forward and you grab him by the hair tugging it back exposing his throat. You bring your blade to his neck watching his Adam's apple bod as he swallows, eyes looking up to you with what one could only describe as admiration.

“I believe that's a match,” you say, removing the blade and pushing his head forward. He remains kneeling, half in shock, half aroused.

“One and done?” You chide watching as he remains on his knees. It was a sight you could get used to.

“Now there's something I've never been called before,” he chuckles, composing himself and standing back up “You're better than I thought,” he remarks bending to retrieve his spear.

“Is that what the men and women of Dorne say to you?” you taunt, watching as his eyes light up, a smile etched on his face as he searches for a response. “ I was a soldier before I was an assassin,” you explain, closing the silence for him.

“Women are allowed to fight in the north? Perhaps you all are more evolved than I had thought,” he states.

“I never said I was allowed to be there,” you admit, causing him to chuckle. “A murderer, a mercenary, and a liar. What other charming traits do you possess,” he queries winking at you.

“And here I thought the Red Viper was said to have a way with words,” you quip back much to his delight.

“One to one, drop your other sword,” he says, turning back towards you.

“That’s hardly fair,” you retort, more petulant than you’d have liked.

“I thought you would know by now, life isn’t fair,” He remarks and you grit your teeth but do as he requests jabbing your other sword into the ground.

“I should ask you to chop your spear in half,”

“Stop putting it off” he says, shining the spear’s point on his sleeve. It's different now he seems to have sussed out your style and in mere seconds. He lunges forward and you mirror him but he pulls back quickly, dancing out of reach from your sword which swings aimlessly in the air, throwing you off balance. You find your footing just as he sweeps your feet from beneath you knocking you on your back. He swings down but you block it with your forearm, managing to use your free hand to swipe at his ankle. Noticing your movements he jumps back, releasing the pressure of his weight from your arm allowing you to get back up.

“You’re bleeding,” he states, weapon falling to his side, upset at having marked your skin with his blade when he’d much rather have done so with his mouth.

“Stop trying to distract me,” you hiss, upset at being bested so easily. Rushing forward your weapons meet in the air. Metal on wood sounding out as you hack into the spear hoping to break it. As you split the spear in half he allows your force to carry you forward and he maneuvers behind you. A harsh tap on your wrist causes your hand to retract dropping your sword which clammers unhappily to the ground. The spear's blunt end wraps around your waist pulling you into him, his strength more apparent than ever. He brings the bladed end up bracing his arm against your chest and pointing it towards your heart, your body now pressed tightly into his.

“Match,” he whispers softly into your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. He lets you go after a minute when he feels your body relax into his, letting you walk off in defeat. He turns back to pick up the broken end of his weapon, and as he does a dagger flies by his head sticking in the wall mere inches from him.

“Chest isn’t a definite kill. The throat is,” you say, your time spent healing leaving you attune to your enemies anatomy.

“I'll add cheating to your growing list of qualities, ” he tuts, throwing the dagger back sticking it in the wall near you. “I could have you hung for a stunt like that,” he states, sauntering over to you.

“Did you have a proposition for me? Or did you only wish for me to come back here so you could be smug?” you query and he laughs watching as you remove the wrist guard from your bloodied arm assessing the gash you’d procured during your fight. He comes over to you placing his hand under your upturned arm caressing it as he looks down at the cut with disdain.

“Come, you should go to the palace healers,” he says softly, offering you insight into why so many found themselves in his chambers.

“No need,” you say, removing the skin to skin contact you so desperately longed for. Grabbing a handful of leaves from a nearby bush you place them in your mouth, chewing them into a paste and rubbing it into the cut, “my mother was a healer. That tree, its leaves cauterize the wound, less pain than fire, less scarring as well,” you state upon seeing his confusion. “Your proposition, my prince?” you ask his eyes going from your arm to your eyes.

“More of a request I suppose. My niece Arianne has gone missing since our last meeting, she was running away somewhere, towards something but someone else got to her first. We have our suspicions as to who has stolen her, but we need evidence prior to the accusation. I had my birds fly around and ask whom to contact, it seemed that you were the one for the job,” he explains.

“Is that so. How do I know I can trust you?” you ask, he’d found you and he’d been good thus far, but anytime you were shown kindness you were hesitant. In your experience it nearly always came with a price.

“I'm sure you're aware, but they have murdered my sister, and my greatest love I will not allow them to take anyone else I care for,” he says, fire in his eyes. It was the most serious you’d seen him. His usual jovity lost in a stoic expression, reminding you of another man you once knew.

“I believe your intentions to be true, but that is not cause for trust,” you explain, watching as nods his head slowly in agreement.

“You cannot trust, because you are unable. I understand why, so I fear nothing I say will ease you, but I swear, no harm will come to you here.”

“Not until you have what you want, at least” you mumble.

“And after,” he reassures, his tone nearly leading you to believe him.

“And apart from payment what's in it for me? If I am to uncover a truth that could start a war. I've spent too long hiding away to risk being found,”

“You have no risk, they think you’re dead, proclaimed it themselves, even if you showed up, they'd never be able to say otherwise. Apart from that, a chance at family,”

“Family,” you scoff, the concept long forgotten. “My family is dead” you say, a lie you told yourself to keep you away from Winterfell, though it was a lie likely to be true, knowing the Lannisters obsession with tying up loose ends.

“The Starks are rising again, Sansa is back in Winterfell, Arya is assumed alive and Jon is leading at the wall,” Oberyn lists off the rumours that had passed by his ears, but they were only whispers, nothing solid enough for you to cling too.

“Even if what you say is true I am nothing to them,” you say, tone remaining level despite the knot forming in your stomach.

“You are there sister,”

“I am not, not anymore, not after I failed them,” you confess.

“How so?”

“You asked me why I was here, I was here to find and plead my case to Danearys Targaryn. At Robbs behest, to help destroy the Lannisters,” you finally admit, a heavy sigh exhaled as you do.

“And I take it you never did,” he watches as a sense of shame, or perhaps it was guilt, wash over you, a crack in your armour.

“You help me find Arianne, you help me bring her home and I will help you reach the mother of dragons,” he states earnestly.

“You know where she is?” you ask head quickly, turning to him.

“Not yet, but I found you, and you were dead, someone alive,” you watch as he pulls a face “should be no problem.”

“And why would you help me,” you query, still unsure of his true motivation for recruiting you.

“An eye for an eye, or perhaps it's purely selfish. An assassin can only go so far. A dragon, now that can take down a lineage,” he says looking down at you.

“I cannot promise her safety, I will not mince words, for all we know Arianne may be dead,” you explain.

“I understand this. Think it over, your welcome to stay here as long as you please, it has been a while since I have faced new opponents, and ones with different training, sloppy as it may be,” he quips, hoping to bring a smile to your face.

“I could say the same of you,” you retort quickly.

“I've never been described as sloppy,” Oberyn states, only partially offended at the insinuation.

“Perhaps you surround yourself with people aiming to please you for too long,” you say, accidentally bumping your shoulder into him, the sudden contact causing a heat to rise in your stomach.

‘Perhaps,” he laughs, noting your flustered reaction, when a man approaches handing him a note which he reads intently. You take the moment to admire his strong features as they concentrate on the note. His brow was furrowed, pouted lips mouthing along to the scripture of the letter before dropping it down to his sides. “As much as it devastated me to do so, I must take my leave from your company, my Lady,” he bows, excusing himself to consult his brother before you can correct him. You continue to stroll through the garden watching a mass of colours bloom around you. You sit on a stone bench wondering how you’d ended up here, wondering if your family was in fact dead, and if any of the Starks truly remained alive.

“You’re the white wolf aren’t you?” you hear a voice call out behind you causing you to laugh.

“What?” the voice demands

“It seems I have many as many names as there are kings these days,” you state.

“Any of them true?” the voice asks as you turn to see the eldest sand snake, Tyene. She was Oberyn and Ellaria's daughter, their first born. She reminded you of Arya, the hardness on her face caused by the brave facade forced onto her.

“I was sorry to hear of your mothers passing, ” you say, turning to face Tyene ignoring her previous question.

“Were you?” she states accusingly.

“I was, she produced and trained all of you after all. You were the only people in Dorne who actually scared me,” you admit.

“If it's any condolence the Shadow Tracker had reached our ears, and my mother was quite impressed with you as well,” she says, knife twirling between her fingers “How did you find him, my father?”

“Unfortunately your father found me. He needs my help, to find your cousin,” you explain hoping to ease her weariness about your place in the palace.

“Who better to take down a lion than someone who lost everything because of them,” she states, trying to see where your allegiances lie. Tyene was always wary when an unknown woman arrived. Concerned they are seeking to use her father to gain power. “Added bonus you look as you do I suppose,” she continues, knife dancing between her digits.

“I wonder why beauty is always what it comes back to? I would be here no matter my face,” you state.

“While I believe you would have been hired, my father has an eye for pretty things. You would have been paid but you wouldn't have been welcomed back to the palace,” she scoffs.

“Are you sure of that?” you question, unsure if she was being truthful or spiteful.

“Yes,” she replies matter of factly

“Well, I'll take that into consideration. Your cousin, Arianne, where was she going the day she disappeared?” you question.

“I don't know,” she mumbles, knife stalling for a moment.

“I don't believe that.”

“We searched her room, we found nothing, nothing but this,” she says, retrieving a small book and handing it to you.

“You give it to me freely?” she hesitates letting it go but her grip eases allowing you to take it.

“If what they say of you is true, perhaps you are the only one who can find her. She can't be left for long. She can't defend herself. All she knows is stitching and art and reading,” Tyene spits, eyes glistening slightly.

“All of which are valiant professions and skills, ones I wish I possessed. They foster patience, skill and planning. They forge a strategic mind, which comes in handy especially when taken by the enemy, ” you explain, your words easing Tyene, though the worry in her eyes remains.

“So she may still be alive,” she questions hesitantly.

“I do not think they killed her at least not yet,” you sigh, tapping the book against your hand “Thank you for trusting me with this,”

“Thank me by finding her,” Tyene says standing up and continuing on her way, leaving you to read Ariannes journal pages.

That night you can't sleep, you stroll through the garden admiring the flora, the colours are ones you'd never thought possible before.

“Running off,” a familiar voice asks and you turn to face the prince who was sitting on a stone bench a book placed precariously in his hands.

“Would you stop me if I was?” you query, returning on your path.

“No, though your dress indicates something else is the reason for your late night adventure,” he says standing up and walking slowly towards you.

“Insomnia, the plague of the guilty,” you state, taking a tiger lily in your hand admiring its markings “even in the summer the north fails to grow such things.”

“Even the plants know, the cold is no place to live,” Oberyn offers, book grasped tightly behind his back.

“Have you been?” you ask, removing your hand from the lily, eyes trailing up to the moon flowers that were glowing under the starlight.

“No,” he huffs, as if the question is preposterous.

“Then how would you know?” you respond smugly, eyes glancing up at him admiring his features as they relax into defeat before glancing down to you brow still furrowed, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “The trees are unlike anything you have ever seen, taller than buildings, older than the race of men. They’ll be here long after we crumble. Their red leaves against the white bark, the time of the old gods still etched into existence. Have you ever seen the snow my prince?” you query turning to face him.

“No, though i've heard the mountain peaks here can get it this time of year, but i've never been possessed to seek out the cold,” he admits, the colour of your eyes more prominent under the full moon, your poetic retelling almost enticing, or perhaps it was just the lips they fell from drawing him in.

“I miss it sometimes,” you confess, offering him a rare glimpse of softness he’d yet to see, “There's no feeling quite like that of being under furs with the one you love, the warmth of a fire as the cold breeze blows over you,” you continue, shaking your head at your ridiculous notions of tranquility.

“It is still warmth you crave then,” he says and you laugh.

“I suppose you're right,” you admit and he chuckles, enjoying your laugh, more melodic than he would have expected. Without your armour he could see the scars scattered across your body, not prominent but there. Evidence of a harder life than he’d expected from a person married to a would-be king.

“Are you not used to such ghastly sights my prince?” you query, his eyes widening at being caught admiring your form.

“I have seen scars before, and yours are hardly what one would qualify as ghastly ,especially considering the body they find themselves etched into existence on. I am merely curious as to their origin, each body tells a story after all,” he says following closely behind you.

“And what is my story” you ask, spinning around to face him.

“That your careless, ” he begins, watching as your eyes caution him “but only for those you are willing to risk your life for”

“Interesting,” you say, running your tongue along the cusps of your teeth, turning and walking on ahead, his eyes following you, feet doing the same.

“Am I right” he asked, more curious than ever. You shrug your shoulder annoying him slightly, not accustomed to your lack of openness.

“And your scars?” you question stopping to smell a lilac bush, he watches as the fabric dips low enough to reveal your chest.

“I have none, I am not careless,” he says, eyes on your newly exposed flesh, you snap your eyes to him “do not mistake my tone, you are a strong adversary, but you take unnecessary risks.” He states.

“Yet here I am,” you say standing up crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yet here you are,” he says, taking continuous steps to you until the space between you both is closed. He’s staring down at you, both hearts beating fast. You raise your gaze to meet his, momentarily lost in his eyes, forgetting your train of thought for a moment.

“I...I will help find your niece,” you sputter out, quickly turning your back to him.

“I am pleased to hear that,” he says letting out a quick sigh at having missed an opportunity to envelop you in his arms and bring you back to his chambers.

“Goodnight prince Oberyn,” you say, not looking back as you begin the path back to your room, your head filled with his image despite your persistent attempts to expel him from your mind.

“Goodnight Lady Stark, or whoever you wish me to believe you to be,” he calls back, watching as you disappear from view.

#oberyn martell x y/n #oberyn martell x you #oberyn martell x reader #prince oberyn x reader #prince oberyn #prince oberyn x you #pedro pascal characters #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones #oberyn martell #no wolves in the desert #part 3

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pizzarollsareokayiguess · 3 years

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Far too much (Kuvira x Fem!Reader)

This is part 2 to Close enough? And I’m so thankful for all the people that interacted with my first written work!! So here’s this, I had so much fun writing it! If you guys wanna see somethin more specific or have ideas, send ‘em my way! Love you!!

WC: 5200 (almost 2x my last one!) TW: none that i’m aware of, lemme know though <3

You felt as stupid as a raccoon-toad.

When the avatar came to collect you to travel back to Zaofu, you were excited because you were going back home, even if you were being punished for your crimes. Unfortunately, Suyin had extended the invitation to the other individuals who were also from Zaofu. It seemed that she was sentimental and decided that every one needed a second chance.

So you were stuck with a bunch of people that you were not entirely fond of, especially when they heard of what happened to Kuvira. After that, you could just feel the glares they sent your way, which was annoying because that’s all they did. They just stared and would raise their stupid eyebrows. Why couldn’t they just get over it and shove it? It didn’t help that your injury still required attendance by healers and physical therapy. So even if you wanted to avoid all attention, it was a little pointless when they said you could only apply yourself for a couple of hours before resting.

There was a constant dull throb in your side, no matter the number of healers. Sometimes it would chill out but when you were awake for too long or when you skipped a meal, it would come back and stiffen your back. It was a constant battle and there were some times that you just wished that Kuvira double tapped you. It could've saved a lot of emotional and physical turmoil.

So, back to the situation on hand. You and several others were on a train that would stop in the heart of the Metal Clan. After that, each person would be sent to a camp that was ran by a horse faced individual who lacked the sympathy of a real person. You were told to call him General Zheng, if you ever saw him, and after that he left to go talk to the head of the guard. You and the others were hustled into a medical looking outlet, and each person was given a platinum band around each left ankle.

“It’s to make sure you don’t leave and to make sure you obey. Can’t have you running around like hen-ducks, right?”

ugh.

It had been several days since you had arrived in Zaofu. By then, everyone had been stationed with their community service and you started to get used to the schedule given. General Zhen said since you had to serve the community as your punishment, you could choose your schedule, basically saying, “How long do you really wanna do this?”. You could remain under order until your sentence was done or you could rush it out and leave it early. As early as you could anyway with a 25 year sentence. You decided to go with the latter; even with your injury, you thought that you could cut it by a year or two which sounded pretty minimal but you’d take anything at this point. At 10am you would wake up and eat then head towards the outskirts of the ring. There, you would begin to bend the metal together to create cohesive pieces for other workers to make into the plates that would create the dome. Others were tasked with mining the actual ore, and they were even paid for that, but you had to create the joints for them. Sitting and concentrating for about 8 hours a day would cause you to slouch and then you’d get yelled at by the healers. Who were scarier than a guy on cactus juice. You’d visit the healers once a week and they would see if your scar had healed or if it was infected. After seeing them, you would head over to the park where they held physical therapy outside. It was really nice to see all of nature while an old lady calmly coaxes you into the tree pose. Gaining balance was the hardest because your brain was trying to compensate for the strain in your side. You also kinda wanted to punch the lady because that’s is as far as I go stop pushing me areyoutuchingmerightnowareyouserious.

Needless to say, it was nice to go back to the plain gray walls of your (holding cell) room and just breathe quietly by yourself.

Then you got used to your routine which was a mistake because then something had to go and mess it up. And who else would it be if not for the very person who put you here?

Madam Jilpa was going to be the death of you. That near death experience you had? Insignificant to the pain that this woman was gracing you with. You wanted to strangle her. She was super nice about your wound, saying how it was healing well and then she manhandled you into a position to “stretch your muscles, you’re awfully sore, my dear.” You rolled your shoulders and exhaled as you left the park. Ever since you came back, people avoided you like the plague and it made the anklet a little more tighter each time. Doesn’t help that it was platinum so it just seemed that it was mocking you every time you caught a glimpse of it. Stupid thing. Stupid city. Stupid community service. Stupid- who is that?

You were strolling through the main street of the city, heading to the store when you saw her. Kuvira. The devil herself. Was I thinking about her? Is that why she’s here? Oh god, she can’t see me, what do i do? Where am I gonna hide? You panicked and slid into the nearest shop, which happened to be a tea shop. Luckily there was a line so you didn’t look too odd. Unluckily, the shop had big glass windows. So as much as you could see her, she could possibly see you? Maybe? You dipped next to the door and peeked out, wondering why Kuvira would be away from the estate. Then you saw the entire Beifong family, whelp. That answers your question. No better way to survey someone than surround them with powerful earthbenders. As your eyes glazed over their faces, you saw Bataar Jr. and Kuvira at the back of the pack. You couldn’t tell if they were talking but they looked like they were standing next to each other, and the evil voice in your head wouldn’t stop talking about how they looked. Together.

Not wanting to add mental therapy to your list of visitation rights, you decided to exit the tea shop and go back the way you came. Back to your plain gray room. Because who needs closure when you have, uh, gray pillows and plain bagels?

…

After that train wreck, it didn’t stop.

Suyin (it felt wrong to call her Su) had talked to the General and they made a plan to talk to each of the prisoners. To really decide if they are evil or not. You could make that decision with the way that these people would play Pai Sho, some of them were just cruel and malicious and a better punishment would be to shove em in the boiling rock.

Unfortunately you were on that list of visits and it was 3 days from now. They even accepted letters from family members. So that you could read how disappointed they are, one more time. But! It was written so it had sentimental value. You felt nauseous when you saw your name scrawled on the letter. Better now than later, it would seem.

Y/n,

I remember the day you were born. You were a screaming ball of anger and you wouldn’t stop crying until you were placed on my chest. Then you shushed and swooned. I knew then and there that I would love you till the day I die and every day after. And it seems that even now, I feel the same way. But, I know now that some paths are a little crowded and you lost your way. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you find the light in this dim world, but I just wanted you to know that you are my light. And that is all that matters. When you first left, I was left with irreplaceable pain because in a way, you had left me. But you were just touching the ground and spreading your fingers. You thought you knew best and I’m proud of you for sticking with it. But now that you see the end of this journey, you must stick with the repercussions. That is what it means to find the light and settle with it. You face your decisions and lay with the judgements. I’m glad that you came back to Zaofu. Hopefully, one day, I’ll be able to see your beautiful face again.

Love always,

Mom and Dad

A chip had left your shoulder. Thank the spirits. You could feel the wetness on your cheeks from the compassion from your parents. Perhaps they were right.

Bracing yourself with these words of encouragement, you faced Suyin with strong shoulders and a flinch in your side (cause, honestly, the tea isn’t that good at keeping the pain down).

…

When you were growing up, your parents had tried everything to stop you from sneaking out of the house. They tried metal bars, they tried positive reinforcements, they tried every parental trick in the book. They couldn’t keep you from whatever entranced you from the house. The only person who ever humored you and whoever treated you with some semblance of respect was Kuvira, or ‘Vee, when you were kids. Granted, she also had a rocky relationship but what’s a pot and what’s a kettle? When your parents finally noticed where you were going when you left, they talked to Su about it. If they couldn’t keep you down, they’ll just make sure that nothing bad happens. Because of that, you would spend many hours on the Beifong estate, surrounding yourself with other earthbenders and playing games with the other kids. As you grew, you started to notice how Opal would talk about the cute boy in her class or how Wing and Wei would blush when the dance recitals were held. But, as you got older, all you could think about was how pretty ‘Vee’s eyes were. How green they were, and how much they sparkled when she talked about how she finally joined the guard. How the tank tops she wore outlined her shoulders. You never noticed that when other people were looking outside, that you had found your view right in front of you. Su noticed of course, being the romantic that she was, she got so excited whenever her children were talking about love. Su knew you well, and when Kuvira left Zaofu, she had a feeling that you would leave with her. She had tried so hard to understand you, but she was so angry. Angry at Bataar Jr, angry at Kuvira, angry about everything, that she forgot that you got the short end of the stick too.

So she was nervous too when she invited you over.

…

The door had opened by then even when you hoped that it would remain shut for a little while longer. A guard had escorted you from your quarters into the matriarch’s afternoon room and she was seated near a window that looked to the sprawling estate of the Metal Clan. She looked up at you and smiled softly, and even from the doorway, you could tell that she had gotten older. Maybe not physically, but her eyes were a little wiser and a little more battle worn.

You had settled into the opposite chair, with some grace that you managed to muster, and she had offered you tea. It smelled of lemon and blueberries and you couldn’t help but relax. You couldn’t help it, seeing Su as a mother figure made you wistful of all the memories you shared. With those came remorse and you immediately felt guilty.

“Thank you for allowing me to come back to Zaofu, Su-Suyin, I am eternally grateful that you have allowed me back after what I did,” you said. After your stutter, it seemed your words came in a rush, unable to be held back.

“I wanted to apologize for leaving in the first place. I didn’t realise that I was blind to all the hurt that occurred when this thing started and I should’ve noticed when the first person that was wounded was you. I thought that I knew what I was doing when I left because I thought Ku-” you inhaled sharply, “I thought she would be the answer. It was wrong of me to place such big standards on her without thinking of the consequences. I know now that I followed her out of personal feeling, and not logic. I will forever be humbled by the events that happened and I just hope that you may forgive me. I am incredibly regretful of turning my back on you Su, I wish my eyes had stayed open a little longer.”

You were a little choked up and you finally pulled your eyes away from your tea cup to look at Su, finding her eyes already on you. Tears were pooling in her eyes and she was softly smiling.

Laughing softly, she speaks.

“You don’t speak often but when you do, you speak,” she sighs and looks outside again.

“I must admit that the most heartbreaking thing was watching Kuvira walk out because i knew that if she left, you would too. It's been that way since you were children. Little younglings running across the estate, throwing rocks and giggling to yourselves. I knew when she left that you would go. You follow the ones you love, you want them in your lives so you do what you must. I understand the feeling well.”

She looks at you and stands from her seat, walking around the table and kneeling at your side.

Softly, she places her hands on yours and squeezes.

“When I saw you on the floor, my mind ran a thousand miles. But until your testimony before your trial, I never imagined. The Kuvira that you love exists, but the Kuvira you followed are not the same. I’m sorry that I didn’t get the chance to warn you. People change right before your very eyes and it’s hard to adapt. I love you as if you were my own, Y/n, and I forgive you. As a parent, I am disappointed but that’s to be expected.”

Smiling you lurched forward and squished her against yourself. It didn’t take you long to become a little touch-starved from being in prison but man, hugging Su felt like landing on cotton and honey. Squeezing your shoulders, Su pulls back.

“Y/n, I’m telling you now what I had to tell myself. The right people get second chances. Currently, Kuvira and Bataar Jr are working with Korra and her friends to stop the remaining forces of the United army. They are good people, and I believe that they can do good things. But it’s up to them. You must wait for them to come to you. This isn’t in your hands now. If they want to change, they must do it themselves. That is my advice to you: good people will come around, they just need time.”

She gave you one last hug and released you. Stepping back she smiled, her eyes finally matching.

“I don’t want to take up all of your day, so I’ll let you go for now.”

You said your goodbyes with Su and the guard escorted you off of the estate.

It didn’t hit you until then that you didn’t flinch everytime she said Kuvira. Taking what Su and your parents said, you lifted your shoulders and promised yourself that you would change your days. You would begin the days with a smile and you would end the days with satisfaction.

…

Days had passed by then and your mood had only gotten better. Physical therapy was going better, your side had stopped constantly throbbing and was starting to scar over. Blues and yellows surrounded the tissue but you were able to go up stairs without passing out! Checking the integrity of the metal plates was what filled your afternoons but those passed by too. Soon, the petals of the metal clan were slowly starting to form and the construction was almost complete.

One day, when you were coming back from your shift, you had heard that Kuvira had returned. Something about brainwashing and how Asami was kidnapped? It sounded crazy to you but when you thought about it, there was this one doctor who wanted to control a person's thinking. Luckily, ‘Vee thought it was too barbaric and the idea was shelved. Korra was able to put a stop to it and her friends were returned back to normal with both charges returning back to Zaofu. It seemed that that test had proved to the rest of the Beifong family that they had taken a step towards fixing their past and wanting to grasp their future. You were happy that they decided to redeem themselves. It made sleep a little easier knowing that your ‘Vira was still in there.

Your brain wasn’t helpful though. As successful physical therapy was, it never helped the nightmares. It didn’t help the murmurs of your brain and the self deprecating remarks. It was exhausting. (How come she gets a happy ending? Wasn’t I supposed to be a part of it? I thought she loved me? I thought-) Yeah, well, you thought a lot of things. Just eat your toast and inspect that metal. Spirits sake.

…

Flowers were delivered to you.

Lilacs. Their fragile petals and purple centers called to you and you froze looking at them. They were placed in your quarters along with mail from your parents. You weren’t allowed to send mail yet but you could still receive them. But flowers?

Listen, as an earthbender and a metalbender, you have grown to know the planet pretty well. From the flimsy sand to the swollen stone beneath you, you feel the breath of the earth in your bones.

But that doesn’t mean you know a single thing about flowers. You know that they are pretty and that roses can be yellow in certain parts of the continent but lilacs? Pretty, purple, dainty, flowers? Confusion couldn’t even begin to explain the words you were feeling. Don’t flowers have meanings too? You have never received flowers before, you had convinced everyone around you that you would rather punch a boulder than receive flowers. And yet here they are.

It seems as if they are staring at you. Glaring at you. Laughing at you. (Who calls themselves an earthbender but can’t tell the difference in flowers? How stupid of-)

Snapping yourself from your stupor you spin around and walk right into the door jam.

Son of a flying-

…

You corner Hahn later on that night. Word in the prison yard says that when he was a free man, he was a farmer who lived next to a guy who happened to be a gardner of flowers. Which flowers didn’t matter but the fact that you kind of knew someone that had knowledge of flowers seemed like a win.

You plopped yourself on the seat in front of him and stared into his aged eyes. He had dark spotted skin from his field days and the wrinkles around his eyes suggested that he knew many things. A trustworthy source. (Your only source)

“Do you know anything about flowers Hahn?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“I got two days worth of desert that has your name on it if you tell me a thing or two.” Interest peaked, he leaned forward.

“I have a reputation kid, I ain’t just gonn’ blab about flowers to anyone. I don’t wann’ seem like a flim, ya know?”

“I ain’t gonna talk, I’ll even slide another honey cake in there.”

He thinks for a moment or two before nodding. You slide him the desert from today and he places it into his pocket. Leaning forward, you can smell sunshine and grass from him.

“What do you know about this?”

You had gently picked a single bud from your bouquet to show him. You weren’t positive if they were lilacs but they were purple and how many flowers were actually purple?

Humming for a moment, he responds. “. . .Syringa, if I remember correctly. Sold like hot cakes. There’s about several different kinds. This one here is just the smaller kind. If you tryna woo a lass, you call ‘em Lilacs. They got a strong scent though, so careful on the nose.”

Nodding, you ask, “does it have meaning?”

He shrugs, handing the bud back to you. “ Well, it could mean a lot of things. In the younger years, you’d give it to your lass to remind ‘em of your love. Like, a new beginning of love, remindin’ them of a new stage.”

He then looks you in the eye and glares. “Not a word about this hog wash or I’m stealing your pillow.”

You laugh, “you have my lips sealed, H.”

…

You hadn’t received any more bouquets and your pillows remained intact. New love? Who in the world could that be? You kept your eyes peeled for lurkers when you were on breaks and besides the common glare, nobody else seemed to be paying attention. So where did they come from? You had formed a vase with clay in order to keep your flowers and you were a little tickled to find that they lit up the room. Hmph.

…

Kuvira was two seconds away from suffocating herself. When did it get so hard to be a good person?

The amount of guilt that lifted from her shoulders from the trial was impalpable and she felt almost as confident as 4 years ago. The Beifongs were friendly and she was able to join and attend multiple events and she was slowly learning how to be a mentally stable person. She had started seeing someone in the city and once every two weeks they would take her apart and put her back together. She was getting used to it. Slowly.

But, spirits, did she miss you.

Something would happen during the day and she would turn to see you, see how your eyebrows would raise and how you would stifle your laughter behind your hands. And then she’d turn and you wouldn’t be there. It was total whiplash, and she wasn’t used to it just yet. Dr. Moko had yet to ask about the elephant-rhino in the room and Kuvira was waiting for the day where she would ask, “why did you attempt two murders, both of which were individuals you cared about?”

What a loaded question. Kuvira wondered how she got stuck with house arrest and not prison.

On one hand, it's an easy question. She thought she was doing a good thing. Bataar Jr. happened to be in the same place as the avatar and most of the resistance when she fired the spirit weapon and at the time it seemed like a good idea. (Not a good defense, she’s glad this question wasn’t raised during her trial). On the other hand. . .

Her soul would wither when she thought about. . .the. . kiss.

She felt that she was ignited and smothered at the same time. When she felt you melt into her arms, it was intoxicating. Your smell had surrounded her and you felt good in her hands. How she wanted to stay there forever. She wished that she could have stayed there forever. But the voice in her head was blood thirsty and on a victory roll and couldn’t be stopped. It was no excuse but the pain that Kuvira felt when she saw you slowly bleed out in her arms was so much that she zoned out and went on autopilot.

In one of the sessions she has with Dr. Moko, she mentions the voice with high reluctance. Dr. Moko says that the instinctual desires in her subconscious had risen to the challenge and took over, blocking out rational and emotional thought. This discussion had encompassed several sessions and because of that, Kuvira was able to gain control and become a little more independent with her thoughts. It gave her a sense of control, knowing that the Beifong family could trust her again, knowing that Korra wasn’t wrong when she said that they were alike. She had hope and all the split ends of her misdeeds were tying themselves together. But y/n. . .

You plagued her mind like a wine-stained carpet. So naturally, she (subtly) asks Su what happened after Korra stopped the spirit vine weapon. Su fills her in on the hospital visits, the trial, the physical therapy, the letters, everything.

That week Kuvira stomps into Dr. Moko’s office and says, “I need to talk about y/n.”

And so she does.

She sends you flowers.

Flowers?! She doesn’t have a flower bone in her body, why in the world did she pick out flowers? She even had a mind to pick out a specific type, lilacs: new love. She wanted to ask the florist for a bouquet that would convey “I’m sorry that I stabbed you, I am becoming a mentally stable person and I really wanna kiss you again and you are really pretty.”

Kuvira figures that lilacs are good enough.

. . .

It had been about two weeks since you received the flowers. They had started to wilt and you couldn’t help but get sad. You still had not figured out who sent them but a tiny part of you hoped that maybe she sent them. That she still thought of you while she’s learning how to be herself. It was selfish of you to think so, but you couldn’t help it. Kuvira was a major part of your life and to be without her made your heart ache. But you made do. After all, you still had 24 years of community service. . . you sigh. That doesn’t make it better.

You’re walking towards the park to take part in your therapy session. Several other people had come and gone and it was nice to see people learning how to overcome their struggles. You were growing stronger every day. Madam said that soon, you would be able to fully do the physical side of bending again. You could spar soon! You were starting to get antsy with all the chill meditation that Madam Jilpa was having you do. The bruising was gone on your side and you could extend your arms fully without twinges or aches.

You step onto familiar green grass and take off your shoes. Feeling the earth beneath your feet helped ground you when trying new therapy techniques that had you worried that your legs would suddenly give out on you. After placing your shoes next to your bag you look up and see your teacher and several others. There were more people today than usual which was odd. You couldn’t remember if there was a sudden climb of injuries in the last week but alas, more people meant less one-on-one time from the old lady herself. You walk over to a spot of grass and plop down, stretching your legs out in front of you. Planning on doing basic stretches you exhale-

“Need a partner?”

-and immediately inhale. You open your eyes and swirl around looking at the individual. Kuvira stands there relaxed, if not a little stiff, and is looking at you with her hands behind her back. The naive voice in your head screams in victory and you nod your head, still silent. Kuvira sits next to you and out of panic, you look around seeing everyone else doing the buddy system. Some were wearing the same clothing patterns as Kuvira meaning that they came over as a group. Meaning this wasn’t accidental. Meaning this was planned. Meaning this was the worst day of your entire life. Perhaps you should just run away and become a no name in the wilds, because then you’d be able to cope with the situation instead of just stewing in silence.

Kuvira places her knees together and leans forward, stretching her head towards her legs as she exhales. Knowing that Madam Jilpa would swat you, you slowly do the same. After you scootch further away, of course.

It’s painfully awkward. As Madam Jilpa begins, others join in with soft whispers and mutters of conversation. But the bubble that surrounds you is so tense that it doesn’t help the panic spasms that start to creep up your spine.

After coming back up from a lateral position, your eyes roam and they meet Kuvira’s. She’s looking at you fully, and not even Madam’s loud “Next!” breaks her attention. She’s looking at you and she stops her exercise to face you completely. Her eyes lower and she looks at your right side where your shirt had bunched up showing the scar tissue. Shocked, you pull your shirt down and shuffle a little farther away.

She speaks so softly you probably wouldn’t have heard her had you not been so attuned with her whole being.

“I’m sorry.”

You inhale and nod, bracing your attention forward and copying Madam’s next movement.

You try incredibly hard to ignore her stare for the rest of the session but it’s so heavy and so thick. At some point, Madam introduces a new position and spirits does it pull a muscle that you didn’t realise you had. It starts with your back on the ground, which is easy enough, and then you lift your hips and turn to the side. Keeping your shoulders to the ground, your head turns the opposite way. You flinch when it strains the muscles in your side. Your legs begin to quiver when a hand settles over your knee and brings your legs away from the ground, making the stretch more shallow. Your eyes see Kuvira as she holds your legs.

“Don’t do it too deep, you’ll sprain something. Start here.”

Following that, she lowers your legs again but into a place that doesn’t make you flinch in pain.

You missed her touch, you realise. You missed how softly she would hold you. Your eyes start to water when you realise how fucked up this is. She is right there in front of you, and all you can think about is how betrayed you felt. You never got the closure you needed from her and it’s being revealed as she helps you stretch. You’re silently crying while she places your legs down and helps you into a seated position.

“I should have visited you some time ago. I wanted to apologize to you, for wounding you and for leaving you alone when all you did was trust me. I misplaced your trust and I will forever be in your debt for doing so. I am incredibly sorry y/n,” she says as she looks into your eyes.

You sniffle as she grabs your hands. Squeezing them, you respond.

“Thank you, ‘Vee.”

And when you smile, the future seems a whole lot brighter.

#Kuvira #Kuvira x reader #Kuvira imagines #LOK imagines #legend of korra #LOK #I am a lesbian herald #my writing #new!

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imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl · 3 years

Text

White Lies (Pt. 15 of 21)

Pairing: Keanu Reeves X Reader

Word count: 1.8 K

Summary: Keanu found the girl almost dead, in the wrecks of what was once her car. While she was in surgery, stuck in a coma, he gathered the best doctors of New York to attend to her. They told him she is likely to have some kind of brain damage, what may lead to memory loss. And this possibility added up wit the fact that she's pregnant, made the council come up with an odd idea. They asked Keanu to pretend to be her husband, since the stress of finding out everything that happened could put the baby in danger. He reluctantly agreed, but only if she does has some kind of memory loss. He still goes she'll wake up soon, with her memories intact.

But when you finally wake up, there's nothing inside. You're quick to find your head is empty, void, like a blank canvas. The only thing that brings you some relief, that makes you feel less lonely is the mention of a husband. And you can't wait to meet him, because you know you can't deal with this by yourself.

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{Keanu Reeves Masterlist}

{John Wick Masterlist}

The War Between The Mind And The Heart

At the hotel room, you cry on Laura's shoulder. She knew it, of course she did, but despite being furious at her too, you need someone. And you can't call Lucia, even though you know she's the grandmother of your child.

Yesterday, you couldn't sleep. The night was a nightmare, a torture, as you stared into the darkness with memories filling your head. All of them have Keanu in it. And they were good. When the morning finally came, you called Laura and she ran here, made you eat something as you cried and yelled and sobbed. Your head hurts, your throat is sore, and you feel like shit.

“I can't believe he did that. I trusted him with all my heart.” It comes out barely a whisper and you dry your eyes for the hundredth time with a tissue.

“(Y/N), you need to listen to me now,” Laura says, holding both your hands on hers. “You already vented and I listened. But now I must explain what happened.”

You don't think you want to listen. During the night, you even considered going to Argentine with Lucia as soon as the baby is ready to travel. But the very thought of being so far from Keanu crushed your heart, and you felt stupid to hold such felling. So now, you don't know what to do. From your position, back resting on the headrest of the bed, surrounded by pillows, you weakly nod. “Why did he lie to me, Laura? Why did you lie to me?”

She takes a deep breath before speaking. “Keanu found your car, (Y/N). You were bleeding, almost dead. And during the two weeks you were in a coma, the doctors found me, and I was in some of the meetings they had to explain your condition. Keanu paid for the best care, so they were fully dedicated to you. And this story was their idea.” Reaching out her hand, she wipes a tear away. “Daniel died only a week before the accident, and that was the reason behind it. You were sad, crying, with the pregnancy test in your bag, so you got overwhelmed in the road and crashed.” Laura makes a small pause as if gathering her thoughts. “Dr. Wright told us back there was a high chance you'd have some kind of brain damage, memory loss. So they asked Keanu if he could... Play this role, putting it in their words. Any kind of stress would put the baby in even more danger, and they thought you'd feel better to know you had someone with you.”

Looking down at your hands, you think about this new information. So Keanu didn't pull this off by himself. You get it now, why some instructions were meant to him. But still, you don't know what to think.

“He didn't want to do it. I was there when he said it wouldn't be fair to you.” Laura squeezes your hand a little. “But both you and the baby could die depending on how you'd receive the news. So he accepted.”

“But Laura, I... I fell for him. Call me an idiot, but I did.” Your voice breaks, and you try really hard not to sob again. “And the worst part is that I still love him. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Keanu fell in love with you too.” She speaks slowly as if knowing it would make you break down a little more. And it does. With both hands covering your face, you cry all over again. “And yes, I spoke to him about it. He... He wanted to tell you everything after your trip to Miami, but he couldn't.”

“Why are you helping him?” You mutter, holding back a sob.

“I'm just telling you the truth. All of it.” Moving to sit beside you, she hugs one of the spare pillows. “After the... The first time you slept together was the first time Keanu called me. Before it was always me calling to get some updates on your condition.” Turning your head to look at her, you put a strand of hair behind your ear. “He was feeling so guilty, he couldn't believe what he did.”

“What did he say?”

“He cursed himself for not stopping. For keeping the lie for so long. He was about to tell you everything but I had to stop him because the doctors were still worried about your state.”

There's a war happening inside you. Your brain tells you to forget Keanu, to move away from New York, to hate him for all the lies. But the heart, wild creature, says otherwise. It aches for him, it calls, it longs for him. And you want to cave in.

“I hate that I love him.” You mumble, hands caressing your belly. This isn't how you thought the pregnancy would end.

“Can I... Can I ask you something? On Keanu's behalf?” Laura speaks low, and you furrow your eyebrows before looking at her. “I know he's not the father, but he does love your child as if he was... So, please... If you do love him, even if you hate the way you feel, don't take the child away from him. At least... At least let him visit, wherever you decide to go, if you decide to go somewhere else.”

Her words make more tears roll down. It may not be fair with Daniel, but you do wish Keanu was the father. Liam knows his voice, as well as he knows yours. Ever since the obstetrician said the baby could listen and was able to distinguish the voices, you both started talking even more to the bump. You wonder if he'd miss Keanu as much as you already do.

“I don't know what to do... Liam's bedroom is there.” Your home is there, with him. “Tell me what to do, Laura. And I'll do it.” Begging, you run a hand through your hair.

“I can't. You must figure that out by yourself.” Laura bumps her shoulder against yours playfully. “Have you spoken to Lucia?”

“I still don't like her.”

“You never did.” She adds, giggling. “Neither did Daniel. But I believe she'll head back to Argentina after the baby is born and maybe call once a month and visit on Christmas. But other than that she'll disappear.”

You probably shouldn't feel so relieved, but that's exactly the feeling that washes over you. “Laura... What... Did Keanu had any plans? For what he'd do after telling me the truth?” This is something you've been wondering all night, but still, you're not sure you want to know. But now that the words left your mouth, and there's no way you can take them back.

“(Y/N), Keanu wants to marry you.” Laura's voice gets lower, and as she stares at you, your eyes are glued to the blue wall across the room. “A real wedding. A ceremony, a party... Everything. But he was expecting this.”

“Expecting what?” You burst out.

“That you would never want to meet him again.”

Shaking your head lightly, you look at your hands. Could you even do that? Would you have the strength to stay away from him? It's only been a night and half the day, but you already miss him. “I don't know what to do... And I don't really have much time to think.”

“How close is the baby?”

“Very close. This is week 38, so the doctors said I should be prepared even though it may still take a week or two.” Both your hands lay on your belly, huge and swollen. It started to lower a little, and you know it's another sign that your time is coming. And that makes more tears fill your eyes. “I'm so scared, Laura...”

“I can imagine.” Putting an arm around your shoulders, she kindly smiles. “You know you have me, right? Call and I'll get here as fast as I can. And if you want, you can stay with me. The apartment isn't big and I don't have space for an extra bedroom for the baby but you'll be welcome and we'll make it work.”

“Thank you, Laura.” Crying again, you hug her the best you can with your belly getting in the way.

“You're welcome, honey.” She let go of you, and you take a deep breath. “I'll have to go now, I have a client on the other side of city and it's a hell of a long drive. Will you be ok?”

“Yes.” You won't, but you can't tell her that. “I'll call you if anything happens.”

“Alright, honey.” After some more goodbyes, Laura leaves and you're left alone again.

The silence is deafening. This damn hotel room makes you feel sick, so you lock yourself in the bathroom to take a long shower. It doesn't help. The tears and the water become one, and you can't tell the difference. There's this heavy feeling in your chest, like you're suffocating. Everything you knew ever since you woke up is a lie. Liam is the only real thing, and now, he won't have a father.

“Do you miss him too, baby?” You ask him, voice so weak you can barely hear yourself above the spray of water.

You wish he could answer, you wish some kind of miracle happened to push you in the right direction... And you know, deep inside, that your heart wants this path to lead back to Keanu.

An hour later, you're leaving the bathroom with the towel wrapped around your body, using another to finish drying your hair. Standing by the bed, you pick some clothes from your open baggage, choosing something comfortable to sleep in. Then suddenly, a sharp pain rips through your abdomen, moving down your thighs and back. Bending over, you bite down a groan. When the pain is starting to fade away, you feel something flowing down your thighs, soaking the floor under your feet.

You freeze, trying to process what happened. Moving away from the puddle, you sit on the bed using the towel, still damp because of your hair, to clean your legs the best you can, but another wave of pain comes, making yell this time. It's happening. It's happening right now and you're completely alone. Laura is too far away, and you don't want to call Lucia.

You could call 911. Or the reception, they'd find a way to help, but there's only one person in the world you need right now. And despite your brain telling you not to give in so easily, the pain is becoming greater, ripping through your body, and it feels like you broke a bone on your hip.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you reach for your phone on the nightstand, struggling a little since your sight is all blurry by the tears. When you find his number, you make the call, lying down and pulling your feet up.

“(Y/N)?” He sounds weird, voice weak and sad. But you don't have time to overthink, to try and find answers. You need him immediately. You're about to answer when the pain hits again, and you yell, voice breaking into a cry in the end. “(Y/N), what's going on?”

“My water broke.” You mutter, breathing heavily. “I need you.”

@multific @inumorph @aestheticallywinchester @bvbwestfall @liviiii98 @allie1804-fan @gian-giannina @playboygeniusphilanthropist @partypoison00 @mariafetamina @fortheloveoffanfic @trin303

#keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves imagine #keanu reeves fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves #imagine keanu reeves

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pandoraimperatrix · 3 years

Note

DickKory please

Aaaahhhh I don’t know which one though... Peony... Camellia... Chrysanthemum... Daisy... Violet....

Uuuuummmmm i kinda want some smut so maybe Peony.

Anon, you asked for a smut Peony and you shall have it!

---------------------

“I know I should care about the reason why you’re naked in my bed, but I will just enjoy it for a moment.”

He sighed, his shoulder blades rippling as his torso expanded, and Kory saw his smile rising from the exposed half of his face, although his eyes remained closed.

“Our bed” he breathed, Kory walked further into the room, sitting on the bed, her hand touching the small of his back, sliding upwards, accenting the stark contrast of her smooth dark skin against his dotted by the San Francisco’s sun as she caressed him languidly. “Too tired for clothes…,” he added after a while.

She let out a weak chuckle and leaned over to kiss his shoulder, marvelling over the visible goosebumps that her delicate move provoked on him.

Dick fixed his position slightly after that, opening one already darkened eye to her who smiled innocently, fanning her long eyelashes at him as if she had no intention at all as her caress changed direction and was now reaching the end of the curve of his back.

“Only for clothes?” she asked, her hand finally cupping one of his cheeks and giving it a nice squeeze.

He lowered his head again, now using his arms to hide his face.

“Why, Miss Kory Anders?” and now his voice was free from all the sleepiness. “Do you have anything interesting in mind?”

She bit the lobe of his ear, and smiled when he wasn’t able to conceal a low moan.

“What if I do?”

Dick moved at once, making Kory squeal at the sudden change. His strong arms let go of the pillow and went to her waist, hoisting her body over his as he turned around, lying on his back.

“Hello,” she said smiling down at him, her hands now on his shoulders, legs around his hips, her thumbs rubbing his skin.

“Hi,” he answered, also smiling, and hands leaving her waist to undo the knot of her dressing gown.

Kory rose one of her hands to his face, cupping his jaw, her eyes warm with affection.

“Are you sure if you want this? I was just teasing, if you are too tired we can just sleep.”

His hands stopped, her dressing gown now parted to reveal her body, also bare and still a little moist from the shower. Dick gave her a lopsided smile and took one of the spring of her curls, stretching it to kiss her hair.

“No…” he said, and when she frowned in confusion, he rose up from the bed, supporting her weight with his arms when his hips rolled to allow their new position. “I want you.”

She leaned into him for a slow, sensual kiss, her body arching against his, seeking more skin against skin contact, her fingers slid from his neck, threading trough his hair, massaging his scalp. Dick parted the kiss to look up at her, he always resented when people would regard him as a lucky person. As if being adopted by a billionaire was some golden Band-Aid stamped over the silly boo-boo of losing both of his parents in just one awful night. But when he looked at Kory, and was reminded of the chain of causalities that brought her to his life, the absurdity of the miracle that made her love him… What could it be other than luck?

“Always nice to hear,” she breathed, her voice a whisper when he started kissing down her throat, her eyes shutting and her fingers closing tighter around his hair as his lips made a path of fire, crossing her collarbones and reaching her sternum.

Dick lost his concentration for a moment when she started moving her hips and he bit the top of her breast.

“Sorry,” he said alarmed and kissed the distressed skin to sooth it.

“Do it again,” she said.

“What?” He swallowed, confused, but there was no doubt in Kory’s eyes.

“I liked it,” she said simply, and pushed a piece of dark hair from his eyes.

“Really?” his eyebrows rose.

“Since I told you about of my past you have been so…” she sighed, choosing her words, “careful.”

“Oh…” the corners of his mouth lowered, “I didn’t mean-”

“And I appreciate it” she interrupted him, noticing that his face was flushed and he was turning softer underneath her thighs. Dick Grayson, her emotionally stunted Dick Grayson, she loved him, so much, but goodness he could be touchy. “I do,” she reassured him. “But… I haven’t changed… Neither what I like…” She punctuated that last argument by taking his hand and rising it to her bitten breast, and pressing. “You can’t hurt me like that, Dick Grayson,” she noticed her point coming across that thick brain of his when his eyebrows lowered and she kissed him, biting and pulling his lower lip in the end. “And I know you wouldn’t, even if you could. So… I know you like it a little bit rougher too. No need to hold back.”

He didn’t need to hear twice.

Before Kory could get her bearings, he had lifted her from his lap and slammed her on the bed, standing on his knees over her body with hungry eyes and a promising smile. She let out a nervous laugh, feeling an exciting kaleidoscope of butterflies fill her belly waiting for his next move. But instead of kissing her, or caressing her in some way, Dick grabbed one side of her hips and turned her, so she would be with her back to him. Every time he manhandled her like that, as if she weighted nothing for him, she felt a new wave of heat radiate from her core. Then, he peeled her dressing gown over her body, and Kory shivered. Anticipation was killing her when she felt him pulling her hips up, until she was in her knees too.

“Grayson what ah-!” her question was swallowed by an exclamation of pleasure when his tongue invaded her vulva making shut her eyes strongly, stars sparkling in the darkness. He pumped a few times before slowing down, making his tongue flat so he could lick around her opening too. And then, he started lapping, flicking her clit with the point of his talented tongue, once, twice, and another time, finding a rhythm.

Kory grabbed the sheets where her lover had been lying just minutes ago, letting out a loud moan as he kept his onslaught, using his firm hands to expose her to his kisses and keep her in place when her knees started to give. He pulled away with a sound of suction, but before Kory found enough coherence to complain, he inserted a finger inside.

“X-x-x’Hal!” she screamed.

“My name, Kory,” he demanded.

She chuckled and turned her face around, trying to look at him.

“You have to ah… deserve it.”

“Oh yeah?” he inserted another finger and bended over to suck her clit at the same time as he fucked her with his hand. He kept a consistent rhythm and in no time she was trashing under him. Dick smiled when he noticed that she had tried to say his name, but when the climax hit her, all she managed were a few nonsense that barely counted as words.

Even so, it wouldn’t do it, not for him, so, before Kory was fully back from her high, Dick pulled her back in position, rubbed his hard member on her soaking, still pulsating pussy and entered her with a grunt. He didn’t wait before start giving all he had, but Kory, ever his perfect partner, wouldn’t let him do all the work himself. She pushed her upper body up, and reached behind for him inviting for a kiss that couldn’t last on her lips a lot, to allow their frenetic rhythm, and turned into a wet path through her neck, shoulders and back. Kory turned one arm behind, placing it like a handler for him to get better leverage, which Dick accepted while his other hand went to her clit rubbing it the way he knew she liked until Kory was screaming again.

When she was finished, he pulled out, she fell on the bed, spent, one hand pumping himself, Dick, used the other to roll Kory’s body so she’d be facing him.

“So noisy,” he said positioning his hips between her thighs. “I’m glad for the acoustic proofing,” and he bended over to kiss her belly, “but I haven’t heard my name yet.”

Kory smirked.

“Better luck next time.”

Dick rose his eyebrows to that, and rested his free hand on the bed beside Kory’s head, bringing their faces close.

“You are lucky one, aren’t you? Getting yourself someone who make you come over” he kissed her throat “and over” he kissed her jaw “again.” He let out a long-suffering sigh. “But fine, third time is the charm.” And he entered her again. Kory’s legs hugged his hips, pulling him closer until there was no space between them.

“On second thought,” she said cheekily, “I think you are already full of yourself and I shouldn’t enable it.”

Dick snorted.

“I’m the one full of myself? Really?” He made his point by accelerating his thrusts.

Kory laughed and the contractions of her already impossibly tight muscles were too much for him.

Terror mixed with the pleasure of release spread through his face and her laughing fit worsened, milking him who afterwards fell beside her pouting.

“I’m so sorry,” she said kissing his shoulder, amusement still thick in her voice.

“You are so not.”

“I am!”

He turned his face away from her childishly.

“I don’t believe in you.”

Kory giggled and threw a leg over his and sucked his earlobe.

“Ohh, poor baby, but I am sorry, or don’t you think I didn’t want a third one?”

He looked at her through the corner of his eyes.

“You are a greedy one, Princess Koriand’r.”

“Why can I say? I’m used to premium Dick service.”

He tried to press his lips together to hold his pout, but when an alien princess fell from the sky and stole his heart to her was given the power of stealing his laughter too.

#this was as cheesy as they come #dickkory #robstar #dickkori #starfire #nightwing #I went with DCU Titans but this one is free #you can pick any version and it will look okay #dick grayson #kory anders #kori anders #koriand'r #teen titans #my fic #flower fic meme #Anonymous

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shookspearewrites · 3 years

Photo

@yoshimoto-love-mail my lil luv, thank you so much for requesting! You know I love your Nina, thank you for entrusting her to me again - I absolutely love writing for her 🧡

- JJ x

~~~~~~~~~~

William Shakespeare x Nina (Requester’s OC):

Nina sat on their plush bed, its warmth and comfort not reaching her, her heart only tight and aching with cold and pain, “Will, p-please-!” They wailed, her candyfloss pink eyes not bright and gleeful as they usually would be around her poet: her lover. But rather, Nina’s eyes welled with tears, abundant as of an ocean comprised of sorrow, “Don’t go ...”

“Nina, mouse of mine,” William Shakespeare sighed exasperatedly, placing his filled suitcase gently down on the floor before wandering over to his lover, his face a perfect mask for the complicated storm of emotion within. His hand was cold, unforgiving, as it caught Nina’s chin between forefinger and thumb and his kiss once it settled on their lips was not loving like it should have been, “Didst I not make it clear, mine darl’ng?” Shakespeare’s thin lips curled into a snarl, his eyes clouded with harsh, unyielding jealously, “Unwilling am I to share thee with another.”

The possessive poet strode back across the room, his eyes scanning the bedroom where the couple had shared many a sweet morning kiss and countless breathless nights. “He means nothing to me, William!” Nina raised their shaking voice, standing up with their fists balled in an attempt to stop the tears from falling, their voice quieter and less confident when they spoke again, “You’re the only man I love.” They slowly, and as steadily as she could with the weakness in their knees, crossed the room to reach Shakespeare, hands clasping at the lapels of his coat, an action which forced the playwright to look down into her pretty pink eyes, “Why can’t you let it go, Will? It was one drunken kiss, and I- I’m sure Comte meant nothing by it!” One of Nina’s gentle hands trailing up to cup her lover’s cheek, their thumb brushing his porcelain perfect skin carefully, “It certainly doesn’t mean anything to me. I only want to be with you.”

“Then why dost thee stay?”

“What?” Nina blinked in confusion, brow furrowed and eyes clear, “I don’t understand, Will.”

William sighed deeply again, his delicate hands finding Nina’s hair, long fingers stroking through silken strands of raven and wine. He smelt of cardamom and rose - mature, beautiful and commanding, much like he was, “Flee from this house, Nina. ‘Tis the air, ‘tis perfumed with his scent ... it wilst corrupt thine purity.” Shakespeare tugged at Nina’s hair gently yet possessively; controllingly, “Wouldst thee come be mine songbird? Wouldst thee fly into a gilded cage that I hast built for thee and thee alone.” He craned his head down to Nina’s ear, his breath hot against her neck as he whispered huskily, “That thou wouldst be mine and mine alone.”

“W-Will,” Nina swallowed thickly, heart tight and aching at the thought of leaving her friends - her found family - behind, “Could ... could I have some time to think about it?”

William laughed lowly though, his eyes showed no joy, no glee, “Oh mine mouse,” his hand tightened in Nina’s hair for a moment before it trailed downward to lightly squeeze the back of their neck, “How thine naiveté humors me so.” He snarled again, bending his knees so they were now nose to nose, “I didst not intend on giving thee a choice. ‘Tis him or I - Come come, now, mine own little dove, make thine decision.”

“I-I,” Nina stuttered, conflicted by the life altering ultimatum that Shakespeare had put on the table - on one hand, she’d keep her lover and their timeless romance would continue to blossom and grow, like a beautiful garden. Though, Nina knew that if they took that path, they’d loose eleven of the best people in her life, and all the joy they gave her, “I choose you, Will.”

William grinned, lips curled upward like he were the Cheshire cat leading Alice to the Queen of Hearts’ courtroom, “Good girl,” he almost purred, leaning forward to seal Nina’s decision with a kiss that was sweet and syrupy yet, still cold, “Mine lamb is a clever one, aft’r all.”

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nothingbutimagines · 4 years

Text

Arranged (Peter Parker)

Pairing: Knight!Peter Parker x Princess!Reader

Warning: Cursing and lots of angst

Summary: The young Princess Y/n is, on the outside, perfect in every way. She is high society, beautiful, educated, and cherished by all. However, the seemingly perfect princess is hiding a secret with that of a young knight, Peter Parker. Peter is upset, angry with Y/n when she is forced to choose between revealing the secret to stay out of an arranged marriage to a prince, or stay silent.

Author: Dizzy

A/N: This is a Peter Parker AU I thought of doing. I’m really craving some knights in shining armor vibes right about now. As always, requests are open and I’d love some new ideas from you all!

Masterlist Request Any Of These Peter Parker/Tom Holland Masterlist

__________________

The salty taste of your tears pooled on your lips as you wept silently, attempting to hide your flushed face behind the veil of your hair, your head hung so low that if your tiara had not had such strong teeth on it, it would’ve surely broken.

“This will be a good thing, darling.” The old woman you once had as a milkmaid spoke softly.

“How do you know for certain, Marceline?” You asked as you finally gazed up at her, revealing the look on your face.

“The king would never misguide you, that is how I know.”

“You are saying that now, but you have never seen this prince! He is older than I! And he does not act as though he could treat me well, in the ways that I wish to be treated.”

“You mean he does not act like Sir Peter?”

“Shh!” You hushed her, pressing a finger to your lips. “You mustn’t speak of him here. Not with the maids around.”

“I do not mean to be rude nor do I mean to impose, princess,” the old milkmaid whispered softly, “but perhaps it would be in your best interest if you told the king about Sir Peter.”

“I cannot do that!” You hissed. “He would force the marriage sooner, or worse, relieve the knight of his knighthood and exile him!”

“Well, you must at least speak to Sir Peter. Your father told him the news only hours ago. Of course, not for the reason that you have been courting him in secret, but rather because he asked Sir Peter to help the priest in planning the cavalry's involvement in the wedding.”

You rose from your lounge chair quickly, your hands grasping at your long skirt as you rested on your feet. You flattened your skirt quickly, almost throwing it down in a bit of a rage as you studied the old woman’s face.

“Marceline, how could you keep this from me?!” You exclaimed, your flushed face now red hot with frustration.

“My princess, please listen,” Marceline rose to her feet as well, slowly in such a way that made you remember how old she was, causing you to soften your attitude a bit. “I did not want to hide this fact from you, but Sir Peter ordered that I mustn’t say a word.”

“Sir Peter ordered you?” You scoffed, making your way to your chamber door, the sound of your heels the only echo in the quiet room. “I am going to look for Peter. If my father asks, I am going on a walk to think about the arrangement.”

The old woman nodded, the solace clear on her face as she stayed silence, allowing you to leave.

You huffed, gathering up some of the fabric of your dress in your hands as you scurried down the hallway and down the back staircase only the maids used, the same way you always went when sneaking away to see Peter.

However, your heart felt heavy with sorrow as you ran down your usual path into the woods behind the castle and to the small cabin Peter resided in.

You loved Peter, of course, but the situation at hand was showing how feeble and weak your connection with him truly was, because if you had loved him as dearly as you thought you did, you wouldn’t still be in the castle.

“Peter!” You cried out for him, your open hand slapping against the wooden door while the other wiggled the doorknob. “Peter, open the door!”

You let go of the door handle as the sound of the lock turning and the handle moving forced your hand. You took a step back, allowing your hands to fall to the side as the door opened slowly, revealing a disheveled Peter.

"Bug, what are you doing out here? Come in, quickly."

Peter pulled you into the doorway by the arm before shutting the door behind him and locking it again.

"Why are you here? You never come during the day." He questioned further, crossing his arms over his chest.

You brushed your hair from your face and tucked it behind your ear. Shifting on your heels, you shrugged slowly.

"I'm getting married, Peter." You replied simply.

"Yes, I know." He sighed heavily. "I just saw Father Montgomery about it."

"Yes, Marceline told me."

"How long have you known about your engagement?"

"Are you accusing me of having known about my arrangement?" You scoffed. "Seriously, Peter? I found out the same day you did. Today."

"I wouldn't put it past you to keep secrets."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because I had to go see a priest about your wedding! That I am not the groom in!" Peter snapped, causing you to flinch at his tone.

"What do you expect me to do?! Tell them I'm sorry, I can't marry the prince they have arranged me to because I fell in love with a knight?!"

"That is exactly what you should do!"

"Well, I won't!"

"Why not?! Do you not love me?" Peter asked, tearing your heart into pieces.

"Do not say that!" You cried, the tears hot as you blinked quickly, letting them fall. "I love you, Peter, you know that! I wouldn't be here if I didn't, but you cannot just say 'no' to the king."

"Yes, yes you can!"

"I'm not talking about this anymore. I won't stand for this, you disrespecting me as such." You said, throwing your hands up in defeat.

"No, Bug, I'm sorry." Peter's voice went soft.

He took a step forward, his arms detangling themselves as he grabbed your arms, pulling you into his embrace. His fingers ran through your hair softly as he hummed lowly, in an attempt to soothe the tension between you.

"I'm sorry. I know this isn't your fault, I am just angry that this has to happen, that life must be this way." He explained, sorrow in his voice.

You burned your face in his chest, your hands bunching up his shirt as you cried softly.

"Peter, I don't want to do this. I don't want to get married. I want to run away."

“We could run off together. I cannot pretend I’ve got much saved up, but we could make it work.” Peter suggested softly, leaning forward in an attempt to catch a look at your face.

You looked up, your hands falling slowly to your sides as you studied him for a moment. The smile you finally gave was melancholy.

“Sure, and everything would be great for a few months until we ran out of money and we’d have to sell rags on the street.”

“Well, maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe we will receive an inheritance! And then we could just fall off the edge of the earth, perhaps get a cabin and a garden and some dogs and just exist together.”

“That would never be feasible, my love.”

“Now, why must you say that? Do you not believe that I could provide for you?”

“No, I am not saying that, it is just-”

“It is just that I am not royal nor could I provide you a more royal and lavish life.”

"That is not what I'm saying. It's just that my father would never stop looking for us, we would never stop running from him."

"And what is wrong with that?"

You sighed, leaning into Peter's hand as he rested it on your face, his thumb running back and forth on your upper cheekbone.

"I don't want to run. I want to have a life, with children and a home."

"Then, we can do it! Just say the word and we can leave the country, go somewhere else."

There was a knock on the door, causing you to tear yourself from Peter as he frowned. You watched closely as he walked to the door, unlocking and opening it before motioning you over.

"Marceline." You said breathlessly, not realizing you had been holding your breath.

"Princess, your betrothed is asking to see you. I told him you were busy on a walk, but he says it is urgent." Marceline spoke softly, the worry in her voice abundantly clear.

"Yes, alright. I am coming. Goodbye, Peter. We will talk soon, tonight. Meet me in my quarters."

Peter bowed slowly. "Yes, Princess."

You followed closely behind Marceline, your dress bunched up in your hands as you struggled to keep up with her.

"Did the prince say why he wanted to see me?" You asked, finally walking beside the older woman.

Marceline shook her head, looking down at her feet. "No, Princess, he did not. He just asked to see you.”

You followed Marceline up the steps, your ankles shaking beneath your weight as you began to worry about what the prince wanted from you. You were torn from your worries as you became face to face with the prince, his smile faint as he held a hand out to you. You took it, allowing him to help lift you up the last step and onto the platform.

“Thank you, Marceline,” His voice was soft and smooth, surprising you as you’d never heard him speak, “that is all I needed. You may be on your way now.”

Marceline nodded, giving you a shy smile as she bowed slightly, her old age not allowing her to bend any further before she exited the patio and walked into the castle, leaving you alone with the prince.

“Why must you have my old milkmaid retrieve me?” You asked him, looking up at him. “Why not find me yourself?”

You took the time it took him to reply to study him; the way his blond hair that was not tucked into a crown flowed in the wind as well as the way his green eyes crinkled to match the smile on his light pink lips. He would never compare to Peter, you knew that, but he was still rather handsome and you felt that though you were unhappy with the arrangement, at least he was not ugly and suited you well.

“I assumed that the old woman would have an idea of where it was you ran off to in the woods.” He spoke slowly, avoiding making eye contact with you. “Do you go out there often?”

You shrugged. “I take evening strolls every once in a while.”

“And what is it you see out there?”

“Why must you know what is out there to see? It is merely a forest.”

“And you go out into the forest alone? A defenseless princess?”

“I own a dagger.” You replied, your tone hinted with your growing annoyance at his questions. “Why are you asking so many questions? What are you inquiring?”

The prince looked out into the forest, his hands reaching out to lean on the side walls of the patio space. He was looking for something, but you weren’t sure of what it was he was looking for as he leaned over the edge of the wall slightly, wrinkling the blue overcoat he wore.

“I would just like to know where my betrothed runs off to when no one is around.”

“I am not meaning to be rude, prince, but it is none of your business where I decide to clear my head.”

The prince groaned softly, his own annoyance with you showing.

“I was just wondering where you had gone. But as I can tell, you are rather jaded about this, so you are dismissed. I will see you at dinner.”

You curtsied to him and straightened up, smoothing out your dress as you made your way to the door. You turned back to look at him for a moment as you stood in the doorway.

“As you wish, sir. I will be happy to see you at dinner.”

You made your way back inside, following the long hallway filled with relics of your ancestors before you reached the staircase. You took a long pause at the bottom of the steps, attempting to wrap your head around what the young prince was trying to get you to say.

After moments of thought, you finally made your way up the stairs, counting each step with every click of your heels on the marble. You reached your chambers, opening the door to come face to face with Peter.

“Peter!” You hissed softly, shutting and locking the door behind you. “What are you doing here? How did you get in here?”

Peter took a step back, confused. “You said that I should meet you here.”

“When I said tonight, I meant at night, not before my dinner with the prince!”

“I’m sorry, Y/n, but I had to see you. I saw you with the prince, and I-”

“You what?”

“I know you’re interested in marrying him, not just because you are arranged to get married.”

“Peter, what are you going on about?”

“I know you think he’s handsome. I saw the way you looked at him.” The young knight spoke softly, the pain evident in his voice.

It was as if he had read your mind while you spoke to the prince. You could feel the guilt build up in the pit of your stomach as a clot became caught in your drying throat.

“Peter, I do not think that.” You lied.

“I know you do. I just thought you would choose to tell the truth, not just about your attraction to your betrothed, but the truth about our relationship as well. But, seeing you with the prince, the way you laid eyes on him in the same way you had when we first met, I can see now you won’t tell the truth.” Peter explained, his words slow as his voice cracked slightly. “I always thought you’d try to keep me true in the same way I choose to keep you, but you do not.”

“You cannot do this!” You spat, the guilt beginning to turn into anger at how right he was. “You can’t make me choose between my life and yours!”

“Oh, but, princess,” the young knight’s voice was soft, his eyes glazing over, “isn’t that what love is? Sacrificing your life for someone else’s?”

He was right, you knew that. You were living proof of that, your own mother loving you so much so that you lived while she had not. He was right and you hated him for it, your anger finally bubbling over and spilling out in the form of hot and heavy tears going down your face.

“Get out of here.” You frowned, shaking your head as the tiara that sat on top slipped slightly and your hands reached out to push him. “Get out!”

“If you want to banish me, fine, but I refuse to attend this wedding you seem so set upon. I hope you have a bountiful future with the prince. Farewell, Princess.”

Peter bowed slowly before making his way to the door, the shine on the sword dangling from his side showing the distorted and sad reflection of your crumbling pride and pitiful face.

“You cannot just give up on me this way!” You cried, taking a step towards him.

Peter shrugged, peering back from the doorway, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the wooden door.

“How can I be the one giving up when you already did that?”

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eleanore-delphinium · 4 years

Text

The Demon’s Head

Damian Al Ghul for a moment was a hero. And in that time that he was a hero, naturally he would meet other heroes.

That was how he met her.

His Raven.

He would describe her as a very graceful woman. She was quiet, kind, generous and lovely. Despite her name sounding as if it should belong to a lonely person or an unkind being, she was none of these. But her name did befit her origins. In the sense that she is the daughter of a being synonymous to satan; and of intergalactic alien origin, the conqueror of worlds. Therefore, the name Raven as ominous as it was, befit her well, and yet also-- not so well.

But that was the thing, he was only a hero for only a moment. That moment was all that mattered, since—after all, that was how he met her. As she continued on her heroic path, he returned to what he knew to be right as a child, the path of darkness.

He took upon himself, the name Al Ghul, a name synonymous to a demon, and he used it well. And thus, Damian Al Ghul was reborn anew, he became the Demon’s Head. The name became associated to a cruel, cruel man. But he changed the ways of his organization, and tread very, very strictly on a grey line. And in doing so, he keeps his Raven. And remember it well and do not forget, he only stays on that grey line to keep her by his side.

And if anything were to happen to his beloved Raven, he will cross to the darkness before one could even blink his own eyes, and will burn everything and anything in his path with his bare hands.

So, make no mistake by taking his Raven away or you will live a life even more painful than death. For Damian Al Ghul has a league of assassin as his army, who are extremely loyal to him. And him alone.

Killing for him was as easy as dropping a needle on a hay stack.

Damian Al Ghul, the leader of the league of assassins, stood inside his throne room made of beautiful marble in ivory and gold. The sun high up in the sky, its light entering the space so blindingly. The sunlight weaves through the pillars and mashrabiya* leaving beautiful intricate patterns on the marble floors. The sunlight helped give an illusion of brightness and happiness and warmth to the chamber.

Damian was facing his throne, his back against the door as he read the papers he was holding with his right hand. His left hand resting against his back, atop his green cape. He was wearing his black with gold uniform and armor with a green cape in contrast to the almost white room. And with his cold facial expression one would be reminded, that all the sunlight was giving after all, was just an illusion of warmth.

Damian Al Ghul was not kind at all. But of course, there is an exception to the rule.

The door suddenly opened with a burst and a loud bang, and Damian’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. He had strictly told them that he shouldn’t be disturbed unless necessary. He coaxed himself thinking that it had to be an emergency. With narrowed eyes he tilts his head a bit to the left to acknowledge the presence of the intruder.

“My Lord!” A man in an all-black suit says hurriedly as he kneels on the floor with a thud. His left leg against the floor while the other propped up to let his right arm rest on top. His head bent toward the floor.

“What is it that you have to report?” His enunciation of every word unhurried and heavy. Damian could hear the gulp from his poor frightened little underling. Even if said underling was twenty meters away.

“It’s—it’s the Lady.” The poor man could barely say. And even though the sun was high up in the sky, and that it’s light shone brightly in the room, making the chamber look as if it was glittering, it became cold. So cold, that both people seemed frozen in place, but the poor underling was the one fighting his shivers.

“What about the Lady?” Damian asked a little too clearly, that the poor subordinate could only kneel on both knees, bend his body and rested his forehead against his hands that was now on the floor. At this point, Damian turned slowly, as his green eyes landed on the man in black.

“What about the Lady?” He repeated even more slowly than the last. And Damian saw his assassin shiver in fear.

“She-she has been missing for a few days, and we searched for her—but—but—she is nowhere to be found.” He reported as calmly as he could. The subordinate thought the room couldn’t possibly get any colder than it already was, but he was wrong. The moment he finished his report, he was kneeling there in pure horror, he was sure he will die today.

“It seems that my league of assassin who are supposed to be like a shadow, cannot protect their lady in the shadow.” It was spoken slowly that it was certain: that this was the calm before the storm. “It seems that my league of assassins lack training.” He concluded.

“You cannot even track down your lost lady, why do I even keep any of you!” Damian’s voice echoed through the chambers; his fury clear. And yet, anyone who knew their lord, would know that was not the full extent of his anger.

No, it really wasn’t.

“Lady Shiva!” He summoned and instantly a woman with black hair up to her neck in red appeared beside the kneeling assassin.

“It seems that you have been lax in training the league.” He tells her and as she bends her torso to bow. Before she could start with her apologies, he continued on. “Prepare the top ten men in the league, and have them follow me. We will look for the lady.” He started walking down his throne.

“No, in fact, I will be looking for her. And if you so choose to have people follow me then so be it.” He said when his eyes landed on Lady Shiva as he approached them, the assassin up on his feet, his head bent low as to be respectful to their Lord.

“When I find Raven, I hope my league’s errors would be corrected. But that would be wishful thinking, won’t it, Lady Shiva? I will personally see to their training when I return.” Lady Shiva and the assassin gave way to their Lord.

“Of course, my Lord.” She mutters as he completely disappears.

~.~.~.~.~

Damian held a woman in blood stained and dirt-filled white robes on his arms. Her face had cuts and bruises and she looked so weak and small against his shoulder. When he looks down at her injured face, there was a softness in his glance. A gentleness unbefitting of the Demon’s Head.

But as gentle as he was as he held her, the scene behind him was not. Orange flames flickered as he walks out from the heat and the building calmly.

“I want anyone who is even remotely related to this tracked down, and I want them tortured.” He said so calmly as he held the woman he loves in his arms. His gentle glance has become cold as he looks at his subordinates in front of him. The crunch of green grass under his feet as he continued on into the night that was illuminated by the orange flames behind him.

“If done well enough, then maybe I won’t be so strict when I train you all. Prove that you all aren’t so useless after all.” His tone stone cold.

The gentleness from before must have been an illusion. Because this was the Damian Al Ghul, they all love, respected and oh-so-feared.

“Of course, my Lord.” One replied with a bow.

“No.” They pause as they wait for Damian’s final instructions. “Keep the master mind alone, I would love to capture and torture them myself.” And the shadows that was surrounding him disappeared. Raven stirred in his arms, against his chest.

“Damian?” She called out weakly. And he stood frozen as he took a peek eagerly at the woman in his arms. “They didn’t know.” She mumbles and he couldn’t help but narrow his eyes on her. She means that it wasn’t the Justice League’s fault.

“They didn’t know it was going to be a trap.” She tried to keep her head a float.

“And look at the price you had to pay.” He said bitterly as he sneered a little and continued walking to the jet.

“I—” She couldn’t even say anything to defend the Justice League, because she felt the turmoil in Damian. How could she defend the Justice League knowing what he was feeling?

“I didn’t mind that you wanted to continue being a hero. I would not take that from you.” He sets her down inside the jet. “And I know that you know this to be true, I only stay in between good and bad for you. If you are taken out of the equation, I have no qualms in being the Demon’s Head, in its truest sense. But you choose to love me, despite of who I am. And I will not have any one harm you. Less others think that the Demon’s head is weak.”

“You are not a bad person, my love.” She replied, as she cups his cheek. He closes his eye and places a hand over hers. He opens his eyes and meets her violets irises.

“But I can be, if I am without you.” He whispered so gently as his forehead laid against hers. The words completely true. They stay like that for a minute in silence, and he pulls away.

“You shall stay in Nanda Parbat as you recuperate. I will inform the Justice League.” He stares at her sternly but she does not refuse him and he turns away from her.

The Justice League has been quite cautious about Raven. They knew of her relationship with the leader of the League of Assassins. And what the risk of putting her in imminent danger would mean considering Damian’s nature. Therefore, Raven was treated as if she was glass and yet, also fire.

“I begged them to give me the mission.” She said softly, she took note of Damian’s body twitching but she had to continue on. “After you left, and made a name for yourself as the new Demon’s Head, they were uncertain of where my loyalties lie.” She found it difficult to talk due to her injuries, but she had enough strength to heal herself a bit, to keep herself conscious and stop internal bleeding. And so Raven did, as she continued on.

“And then you made a point to show that you were not like your predecessor. And yet, you also made it clear you could be far worst. And I, your beloved, was someone who they could not risk in the forefront anymore.” She moved in her seat, as she felt her insides return back to how it should be. “I just wanted to do one more mission, where I wasn’t treated like a bomb, and after that, I will be done.”

He turned to look at her with a shocked expression. Her voice was calm as her face was gentle. Despite her battered appearance, she looked like a saint to him. The words he couldn’t seem to say aloud, she felt, and she responded as she closed her eyes.

“Yes, I was going to leave the Titans, and be with you. Commit fully to you.” Her voice was soft but his thoughts were a mess. And it was clear to Raven, all of his thoughts, as if they were all written on the air for her to read.

“The Justice League thought it was a harmless mission; therefore, they could let me go. It was supposed to be a reconnaissance mission, nothing more. But we were ambushed, and I was captured.” She sighs and opens her eyes to look up at Damian. The water in his eyes finally gave way as he blinked when their met, and she inhaled a breath.

“You could have died.” He said it lightly, that Raven’s heart started beating fast in her ears. His cold eyes that had never been directed at her, has finally landed on her. “You could have died, if I was just a minute too late.” And like his eyes that could no longer contain his tears. Raven could not ignore his emotions. And she broke into a sob, as she covered her lips with her fingers. He knelt beside her, as he put a hand on her cheek.

And his face was not cold nor was it warm. The eyes she had seen him use with his fellow assassins had disappeared. She didn’t expect that the day he would look at her, the way he did his subordinates, would happen.

“Are you crying for me?” He whispered and she sniffed as she looks at him. But still, even if his cold stare was frightening. She could never be afraid of Damian Al Ghul, even if he was an Al Ghul, and the current Demon’s Head.

“I’m sorry.” She tried to contain the emotions. And she could feel the apology he was about to say. And before he could, she leans her forehead against his. Places her right thumb over his lips as her palm rested on his jaw. “But I swear to you, I am done with being a hero. I want to walk that grey line with you.”

And his lips turned up into a smile. A smile that was only ever directed at her. His gentleness and kindness only exclusive to her. His warmth only reserved for her. And she could feel it all in her chest, and in her very bones.

The love he has for his beloved Raven.

And the danger, if he loses his bird.

(FIN)

Notes:

*Mashrabiya = those wooden windows with intricate design; (wiki says: is an architectural element which is characteristic of traditional architecture in the Islamic world and is a type of projecting oriel window enclosed with carved wood latticework).

#damirae #Damian Wayne #raven #Damian al Ghul #damian x raven #damian al ghul as the anti hero demon head of the league of assassins #Robin x Raven #raven as the love of his life even if she is a hero #drabble #romance love #alternate universe #alternate reality story #alternate timeline #evil damian #teen titans justice league leaving the team kidnapped captured male lead to the rescue

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ssaltbending · 3 years

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Ok, guys, hear me out: Zuko is a Capricorn, Katara is a Cancer —and here’s why (it would be so poetic).

Part 1: Zuko

TW: explicit mentions of child abuse.

I know this statement might seem weird and out of place, but in the last couple weeks I’ve been digging a lot into astrology and, in order not to forget my roots, I thoroughly felt the need to combine both of my most recent obsessions in one post, given that this headcanon hasn’t been able to leave my mind ever since I came up with it: if we applied astrology to the Avatar world, I’m sure Cancer and Capricorn would be Katara and Zuko’s signs, respectively. And I don’t say this in a superficial way, just by looking at zodiac memes and associating Katara with the crybabies Cancers are portrayed as or saying Zuko is a Capricorn buzzkill as people who know astrology on a surface level would assume they are —those are some of the most common stereotypes about the signs. No, I’m saying that they embody those signs on an archetypal leve: in the way their stories, especially Zuko’s, resemble the myths that originate the zodiac signs and their respective traits.

Therefore, without further ado, let me explain.

The Capricorn archetype: the sins of the father...

As any casual astrology enthusiast may probably know, the sign of Capricorn is connected to qualities such as perseverance, integrity, resilience and ambition, typically treated as the CEO or boss of the zodiac. However, the sign itself has a richer and much more complex story as we look at the deities it is associated with as well as the planet that rules it: Saturn, linked to the Roman god of the same name and the greek gods Cronus, Zeus, Hestia and Pan. Some astrologers choose Cronus as Capricorn’s patron god and others prefer his children, but that can be explained very easily.

The myth goes like this: Cronus, a giant and father of what we would know as some of the main greek gods (Hestia, Demeter, Hades, Poseidon, Hera and Zeus), was actually the son of Uranos, who he subverted thanks to the advice of his mother Gaia to use an agricultural tool to kill him. But as time went by and Cronus had started having children with his partner, Rhea, the fear of his descendants becoming stronger than him and doing the same thing he had done to his father took over him, which led to his decision of swallowing them all whole. He started with Hestia all the way back to Zeus, whom he couldn’t swallow right after he was born, unlike his other children, because this time Rhea had hid him in the island of Crete to protect him from his father. To deceive him, Rhea then covered a rock in cloth to make it resemble a baby for Cronus to eat it, thinking that it was a newborn Zeus.

Time passed and Zeus grew stronger until he was ready to confront his father and save his siblings from his womb, and when he finally did it, he managed to force Cronus into disgorge them one by one, in the reverse order they had been swallowed —which left Hestia as the last sibling to be disgorged.

After that, Zeus was left with a prophecy, where he would also be possibly overthrown by a son of his. And after Métis, the woman he was told would bear said child, gave birth he swallowed the newborn whole just like Cronus had done with his brothers and sisters. The child in question, however, started giving him headaches as it grew older and bigger inside of him and would become the goddess we know as Athena. What Zeus did with her was the repetition of a cycle perpetuated by his forefathers, a cycle of abuse and trauma that seems inescapable. What this part of the duality of the Capricorn archetype shows one of the ways in which those ideas of tradition and legacy can be carried on (a very negative one, to be honest), but that’s not the only way they can manifest, which gives the archetype this… almost cinematic quality, in my opinion. (And if we take this into account, I might headcanon Azula as a Capricorn rising due not only to the archetypal coincidences but the overall mastermind outlook she has and how much of a natural, domineering and calculating leader she is, but that’s besides the point.)

Now, let’s talk about the other side of the archetype, which gives it this incredible dual quality: Hestia’s path. Unlike her brother Zeus, Hestia was the one who not only had been devoured by her father, but she had spent the most time inside him as well. This is often associated with the emotional isolation many Capricorns experience in their youth, the lack of warmth and love by one of their parents, along with the desire not to become the abusive parent they were exposed to. Hestia is the other side of the story, the unspoken leader of the Olympians, the one who broke the toxic cycle running in her family for generations, vowing to become an eternal virgin and protector of the earth. Besides, Hestia means “hearth”: the inner fire, the one that is never allowed to go out.

(art by @elisebrave)

That is the soul of the Capricorn archetype: the crossroads of destiny, the moment when the child decides whether to become like their parents, or forge their own path like Hestia did. Do you guys see what I see now? Are the similarities clear enough?

As my dear friend @persephobeee points out in her Capricorn essay (a crucial source for this one): “The Capricorn archetype is a cycle of stuck parents putting stress on their children at such a young age so then their kid ends up making money in retaliation, but then treat their kids the same as well due to the lack of warmth and freedom they had in their own childhood. The intense pressure put onto them as a child [then] leads to isolation and depression. It’s a cycle. ‘I don’t want to be my parent, but also… how they have ruined me’. The chain can continue with Zeus (projecting sorrows and nightmares onto their own children) or it could break with Hestia (the path of love, light and protection).”

This is why Capricorn’s planetary ruler, Saturn, is also associated with ideas found in this myth: restriction, limitation, order, boundaries, leadership, responsibility… pretty much dad vibes, to be honest. Do you guys see what I see or do I have to dig deeper?

“But isn’t zuko a firebender?? Why would he be an earth sign??”, you may ask.

The way that I might be making headcanons about the Gaang’s western zodiac signs isn’t gonna be based on which element they bend, because that would be quite reductive and restrictive for me as an astrology junkie, but their similarities to each sign’s archetype and overall characteristics. And yes, I do see Zuko as an earth sun, but that wouldn’t be his only sign, there is also the moon and the rising sign, which also have an important impact on the individual. In my opinion, Zuko’s personality embodies the qualities of fire signs as well: competitiveness, drive, passion, impulsiveness and loyalty. But to me those qualities are better shown in his character through his moon sign: an Aries moon, to be specific. See those anger outbursts? The “I don’t need any [fucking] calming tea!!”? The “you never think these things through”? Aries moon behavior, right there. But I’m not going to focus on moon signs right now. Let’s get back to the behavior I am the most well-versed at: Capricorn behavior.

So, the sign of Capricorn is also a cardinal sign, a leader, since they are the ones that begin each season. In the Northern Hemisphere, Capricorn season starts right on the winter solstice, and the opposite happens in the South. However, since all the astrology lore comes from the North thanks to the Greeks, Babylonians and more, the seasonal connections are related to the seasons there. As a consequence, Capricorn is the cardinal sign that brings the coldest, darkest season of the year: winter. And incorporating that into Zuko’s character would be incredibly fitting, in my opinion, because of some stuff I’ve read here on Tumblr saying that making him being born during the coldest time of the year would make it a terrible omen for a firebender, worse in this case due to him being born into the royal family, symbols of the power and “supremacy” of the Fire Nation. The fact that he would be born in winter, if we follow this reasoning, would have made him seem as a disappointment to his father ever since birth.

… or maybe I’m just cruel, guys.

Moreover, I think Zuko embodies many of the Capricorn qualities in the way he carries himself (because no, not all Capricorns are confident managers with the world in our hands) and how hard he has to work to earn everything he gets. A key part of what this sign represents is “the path of hardships the goat has to overcome in order to reach the top of the mountain”, which along with the myth I have described before, could easily be applied to Zuko. It describes values of endurance, hard work, discipline and drive in order to achieve your goals, something that can be seen in Zuko all throughout the series, but changes its focus as the seasons go by. Besides, uhm… have you guys seen “The Day of Black Sun, Part 2”? That is literally the positive outcome of the Capricorn myth made into animation: the confrontation between an abusive father figure and his abused child who has decided to part ways with him in order to become a better person.

On another note, I think it is important to highlight how the Capricorn in Zuko could be seen based on how the rest of the Gaang treats him as well when he changes sides and he’s accepted into the group. How?, you may be wondering: as a father figure, but in a positive way. In many scenes it can be noticed how he naturally takes a position of leadership within the group as well as he takes care of the younger members such as Aang and Toph but, especially in Aang’s case, tries to ground them and teach them. As examples, take the following: Zuko reminding Aang that soon he will have to face the fact that he might have to kill Ozai, him trying to get everyone to train when the comet is about to arrive; how when Aang gets lost, it is him the one people look to in order to lead the group, etc.

Another thing that is well-known in Capricorns is our resilience and perseverance and, honestly: do I even need to explain that? When it comes to the guy who would get his ass beaten again and again and again for one season straight in order to get what he wanted which would also give him the approval of his father, what he craved most? It screams earth sign behavior to me, but with a heavy saturnian influence due to Zuko’s background which, to me, can be quite an interesting reflection of the Saturn/Cronus myth with his children. Said tenacity could also be exacerbated by the willpower and energy brought by the possibility of him having a fire moon, I don’t know, think about it. I stick to that headcanon.

That perseverance can also be seen when it comes to Zuko’s firebending, given how much he’s always trying to improve his skills. Although it could be argued that in reality he’s doing so due to the expectations put on him to be a proficient bender just like his sister in order to be accepted by his father, and his constant training to the point of exhaustion is just a manifestation of that toxic behavior. I am sorry to tell you, but that’s textbook Capricorn behavior, associated with the symbolism of the hardworking goat in general: working the hardest in order to get what you want is always on-brand when it comes to important Capricorn placements, and in my opinion Zuko is no exception.

Final thoughts.

Anyway, what I think would be most relevant is what I mentioned before about the Capricorn archetype and how it could tie in nicely to Zuko’s character arc with him as a representation of Hestia, who could grow out of the abuse she experienced and got a chance not to make her father’s mistakes and break that horrendous cycle she had been a victim of. I would go into this more deeply, but I think it has been enough for now. However, I’ll be back soon with a part two, talking about my water queen Katara. What do you think about this headcanon? Do you agree? If not, why?

Thanks for coming to my weird-ass TedTalk at 1am. I needed to vent and I haven’t been able to put the computer down since 9pm, I literally only stopped to eat, lol.

See you soon,

a Capricorn sun.

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years

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Love or Duty by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Chapter 1/8

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Chapter 1: The Uneasy Alliance

“Our scout says she burned the village to the ground, everything is gone. She didn’t even leave the animals alive.”

The King surveyed the room filled with nervous men, he held up his hand and a hush fell over the crowd. “Double the guard at the gate, just to be safe.” He turned toward the Knight, the man nodding swiftly before exiting the chamber. “Regina is still in the East, Misthaven is safe.”

“For how long?” Someone yelled from the back of the room.

“We need to move the women and children.” Another voice spoke above the crowd.

“Everyone calm down. There is no need to panic, our guard is strong, our swords are mighty. We will not be taken by the Queen from the Eastern lands.”

“We need more swords, Your Majesty. If we stand alone, Misthaven will surely fall.”

The warning did not fall on deaf ears, as the King paced his chambers that evening, his wife, Queen Margaret preparing herself in their bed chamber, watched him with eager eyes. “You appear distracted this evening.”

“It’s Regina, she destroyed the town of Umbury. The nobles are concerned that she is advancing north.”

“You do not think our defenses will hold.” She spoke softly, standing from her spot in front of the bed, less of a question and more of a statement that she had read from his mind. She was good at that, reading his thoughts, understanding what he wasn’t saying before he could even admit his own truth.

He contemplated a moment, not wanting to worry his wife but knowing it was pointless to deny what she already knew. “No. They are our best men, but I fear there are simply not enough of them.”

“Then you must go west.”

“Never. Those fools will not listen much less be willing to help our cause.”

“Those fools are also standing in her way.” She said soothingly, taking his hand and pulling him toward the bed. “Alone, both kingdoms will fall. But if you come together, put aside this foolish feud, we will surely stop her in her path.”

“Brennan Jones is a fool. I would no sooner beg for his assistance than I would bend a knee to Regina’s demands.”

“Then you, my love, are the fool.” She put a hand to his open mouth, stopping his protest and complaint. “You are King David Nolan; you serve the people of Misthaven. It is time to forgive past transgressions, you must come together with the people of Jonesboro or you doom our own to a life of misery and servitude under the rule of Queen Regina.”

He bent his head, knowing his wife was right. He was out of options; they wouldn’t last the month at the rate that Regina was burning the lands. He needed assistance and his best chance was his neighbor to the west. King Brennan was the last man he would seek out, the last man he would be found groveling to, and sadly, he had no other options. King Brennan Jones was their only hope.

~*~

“To what do I owe this great displeasure of seeing your face on my doorstep, David?”

“I’m no more excited to be at your doorstep than you are to see me, Brennan, but we need to speak regarding our mutual problem in the East.”

“Ah so you’re here about the infestation, or as she likes to call herself, Regina.”

David nodded. “She burned Umbury to the ground not two days ago.”

“My scouts have not brought news of Umbury yet. Are you quite sure?”

“Not even the animals survived the slaughter.” David said somberly.

“Umbury is not far from the road to Misthaven, is it not?”

His irritation grew. “You know that it is.”

“This does not sound like my problem, David.”

“If Misthaven falls, how long before Jonesboro follows?” He stated emphatically. “Regina will not rest until all the lands are hers.”

The man paced in front of him, the cold mask set on his face, unreadable. “You expect me to believe that you care about what happens to my kingdom?”

“I know that my kingdom cannot survive without help. Neither can yours.” He implored.

“You want to work with me?” He laughed loudly. “I did not think the day would come.”

“Trust me, If there was any other way, I would have found it. Margaret asked me to speak to you, so here I am.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Ah now we come to the truth, Margie sent you.”

This time it was David who rolled his eyes, “She seems to think this is our only way out of this. I am inclined to agree, unfortunately.”

“Go home David, tell your wife I send my fondest regards, but I would sooner gut my own belly than come to your aid.”

“You did not tell me we had visitors.” The men turned toward the intruding voice and David softened when he saw the Queen enter the chambers.

“Ali.” He responded fondly, accepting the hug she offered as she approached. “I apologize for the short notice.”

“You know you are always welcome here.” She turned toward her husband with a glance of annoyance.

“He was just leaving.” Brennan offered quickly.

“Nonsense, what brings you all this way, David? How are Margaret and the children?”

“Everyone is well, Margaret sends her love, I was just speaking to your husband about the situation at Umbury.”

“What news is there of Umbury?”

“Regina.” He said simply and the woman’s face filled with dread.

“There must be something we can do about this woman’s reign of terror.”

He glanced at the King, “That is the reason for my visit. If our Kingdom’s could unite, perhaps we stand a chance at defeating her.”

“There have been too many years of unrest between our lands, our people would never fight alongside yours.” The King complained.

“Not unless they had something to unite behind. Perhaps a truce or a reason for them to join forces.” The Queen suggested.

“If you are suggesting that David and I…”

“Out of the question.” David added.

“Unless…” Brenna said with a raise of his brow. “Your daughter, Emma. She must be at least 18 now?”

David turned toward him with confusion on his face. “She turned 20 this year, why?”

“Our son Liam just turned 24 and has yet to take a bride.”

“Brennan, that is not what I meant.” The Queen stepped forward.

“But if our children were to unite, our people would surely follow?” He turned toward his wife, “It would solve the issue of Liam not choosing a wife, it has been too long and would avoid the messy situation of David needing to grovel in apology.”

“You want my daughter to marry your son!” David remarked in annoyance. “I did not come here to offer my child up as some sort of trophy.”

“So, you came here to beg for forgiveness then?”

“I’ll do no such thing!”

“Boys, please.” The Queen yelled. “This is not getting us anywhere.”

“You realize this entire idea is insane?” He urged as he tried to appeal to the Queen’s common sense.

“Neither of our children are married, they are both of age, it does solve a certain problem. Unless you boys plan to admit that this feud is ridiculous and apologize.”

“Never.” They sang in unison.

“Then I think we should consider it.”

Accepting defeat, David promised to return home and speak to his wife. In a week’s time, Prince Liam would travel to Misthaven to meet with Princess Emma to discuss their courtship. Now all he needed to do was advise Emma that she would be getting married.

~*~

“I’ll do no such thing.” Emma screamed at her father after he announced her upcoming nuptials.

“We don’t have a choice.” Her father countered.

“How dare you make this decision for my life; you swore to me that you would never do that.”

“I’m the King of Misthaven, I have to think about what is right for this kingdom and its people.”

“But what I want doesn’t matter? That’s what he’s saying, Mother.” Emma spun around to face her mother who was sitting on her throne, a frown on her face.

“Emma, it’s our only choice. We need the kingdoms to unite. Your father has to make the difficult decisions for our survival.”

“Oh, this is rich coming from your mouth.” She growled. “If you hadn’t defied grandpa, you’d be married to King Brennan right now!”

“Emma!” Her father’s tone was loud and angry, but she didn’t care in the slightest. She would not be told that she had to give up her life to be tied to a man she did not know or love.

“Emma what?” She snorted. “Don’t speak the truth?”

“This is different.” He paused. “I loved your mother, and she chose me. Her father accepted that. You have yet to find anyone on your own that is up to your standards to marry. And Prince Liam needs a wife.”

“Does Prince Liam want a wife?” She asked defiantly.

“Emma, you are royalty, this is a responsibility that both you and Prince Liam bear. I am sure he understands his role in his family as the Heir Apparent to the throne, as should you.” Her mother scolded.

“I don’t wish to marry.” She pouted and her mother stood from her throne and walked over to Emma, draping her arm around her shoulder.

“Prince Liam is a lovely man, kind and fair. You will grow to love him as if you had chosen him yourself. You have a responsibility to the people of Misthaven to protect them above all else. You will rise to the occasion as Princess of Misthaven and do your duty.” A tear rolled down her cheek and her mother wiped it away, lifting her chin so that their eyes met. “If there was another way, your father and I would have pursued it. We’re asking you to do this, Emma, for us, for your people. I know this isn’t what you want and for that I am truly sorry.” She finished softly.

“If nothing else is required of me, I wish to retire to my room.” Emma stood from her spot, setting her jaw firmly as she glanced at her father, when neither of her parents responded, she turned and stormed from the room, not stopping until she was within her chamber. As soon as she bolted the door closed, she crumpled atop the duvet of her bed, sobbing into her pillow until she fell asleep.

~*~

“You will travel to Misthaven within the week to meet the Princess and begin the courtship.”

“Do you really believe this will help us defeat Regina?” Liam examined the way his father paced the room in front of him, worry set in the wrinkles of his forehead. He had known that Regina was getting closer to Jonesboro and that their swords were unmatched to her army.

“As much as I do not wish to align myself with Misthaven, we need their blades. Their army is large, and we will not survive a full-on assault from Regina without their assistance.”

“And you believe this is the only way?”

“If she is anything like her mother, she will be more than enough woman for you, son.” He patted his son on the back. “If you are not satisfied with her, you can always take a mistress.”

Liam rolled his eyes, “I will do what is required of me, Father.”

“Take your brother to assist you, but keep your eye on him, I do not wish another scandal.”

“Of course.” He said with a nod, exiting the throne room, ignoring the thunderous beating of his own heart. As soon as he was behind closed doors, he grumbled loudly, tossing his boots across the room. Being the first born carried a heavy responsibility. He would be King one day; he would rule all of Jonesboro and as the first born and Heir Apparent to the throne he was expected to take a wife of royal descent.

The tapestry in the corner of his room rustled and swayed until it pushed away from the wall and the blonde woman entered his chambers through the secret door.

“Elsa.” He breathed, crossing the room in long strides to pull her into his arms.

“I came as soon as you left the King’s chambers. Why were you summoned?”

He brushed his lips against hers, before burying his face in the crook of her neck. “It’s Regina, she’s advancing through the realms faster than expected. The King of Misthaven has brokered a deal with my father that will allow our kingdoms to join forces and defeat her.”

“That’s great news.” She sighed. “So what troubles you, my love?”

He took her hands in his, brushing his lips against her knuckles. “I’m to marry Princess Emma.” He felt her flinch at his words and his eyes squeezed shut.

“And you have agreed to this marriage?”

“We knew this day would come eventually.” She sighed and he opened his eyes to meet hers, a tear slipping from the corner of her eye which he immediately swiped away with his thumb. “This is my duty; I cannot let our people down.”

She took his hand and pressed it against her cheek. “I know, that is why I love you.” He held her tight that evening, her body molded into his side as he watched the moon hang high in the sky. He had loved Elsa since he was a young boy when he first saw her outside the palace with her mother, one of the palace cooks, picking onions from the garden.

He had spent years ignoring the pull of his heart toward the young maiden, until he could yearn no more and took her as his own, locked away in a cottage hidden from the castle. They spent many nights lost in each other’s embrace, wishing that life were less complicated than it was.

He envied his brother Killian, as the second born, the responsibility to rule did not fall on his shoulders. His need to find a wife of royal blood was not necessary and as such, Killian took full liberties to live the life of a royal bachelor who bedded any beauty who would share their chamber with him. He knew nothing about responsibility and duty or even love. But Liam knew that as first born, he would one day be King, and he had to live up to his born right, even if it meant never getting to be with the woman he loved.

So instead of grumbling about fairness, he simply boarded the carriage with his brother and set off for Misthaven, preparing to court a woman he had never met and would never love.

“What if she’s ugly, brother?”

“I fail to see why that matters.” Liam groaned as his brother continued to barrage him with a variety of questions and statements about his situation.

“Would you really bed an ugly woman, simply for the honor of the kingdom?”

“Does everything come down to sex for you?”

His brother shrugged, “Not everything, I like a woman who can hold her rum as well.”

He stared out the tiny window in the carriage, wishing to be anywhere but on the road to Misthaven. “One day you will meet a woman who captures your attention even outside your bedchamber, little brother.”

“Why would I have need for a woman outside my bed chamber?” He smiled widely. “And that’s younger brother, Mate.” He corrected and Liam chuckled at the annoyance it caused the man. While Killian was only a few years younger than him, his jealousy of being the second born had always been apparent.

Killian had always been able to use his handsome features and natural charm to get by in the world, Liam envied his spirit. At 14, Killian lost his hand in a sailing incident, Liam never even saw him cry, he simply picked himself up, and despite his mother’s insistence of finding the best prosthetic their gold could procure, he had the silversmith craft him a hook and carried on his way.

Liam was sure eventually the impediment would bother him, but instead he used it to lure women in. He was sure that curiosity in addition to his cocksure demeanor brought about the loss of his virginity by age 15. Women were simply drawn to his playful yet assertive behavior. While Liam grew up by his father’s side, learning the proper way to rule a kingdom, Killian spent his learning poetry and sailing for adventure.

“Your looks won’t last forever and eventually you will desire a woman to want you for more than what you can provide to her in the bed chamber.” He chuckled but his younger brother simply cast his eyes upon their impending arrival.

The carriage came to a halt and Liam stepped through the open door, looking up at the castle in front of him. It was more lavish than their own, brighter colors and more inviting. He nodded to the man who greeted them.

“Prince Liam, Prince Killian, welcome to Misthaven. The King and Queen are expecting you.”

Killian’s grin was wide as he nodded to a maiden who walked past the carriage. Liam groaned and pulled him by the lapel toward the castle doors. “I have orders to keep you out of trouble on this trip, and that one looks like trouble.” He said with a glance toward the flirting maiden.

“You are no fun at all, brother.” He whined following him begrudgingly through the castle halls.

The large doors opened into a wide room, bright banners accenting the stained-glass windows. A golden curtain draped at the far end of the room, two large thrones sitting in the center of the wall. “Be on your best behavior, I beg of you.” He said through gritted teeth toward Killian.

A beautiful young woman stepped toward the King; he could only assume this was his future bride to be, her blonde hair braided into a golden crown. “At least she isn’t a troll.” Killian whispered.

“Welcome to Misthaven, Prince Liam.” King David spoke as he rose from his throne and stepped toward them. “It is an honor to have you here for such a happy occasion.” He smiled and Liam nodded to the man.

“It is an honor to be here.” He turned toward his brother, “This is my brother, Prince Killian.”

Killian bowed with a ridiculous grin on his face. “My father sends his regards.” Liam rolled his eyes; Killian always did have a way of being an ass without even trying. It was no secret that the feud between King David and their father had been contemptuous for years. His father never shared the reason that the two kingdoms were not friendly neighbors, but Liam knew it best not to ask his father of such things.

“I’m sure he does.” The King responded with a firm jaw. “Allow me to introduce you to the jewel of Misthaven. My daughter, Princess Emma.”

The blonde woman stepped forward; her mouth set in a straight line. She held out her hand and he took it, pressing his lips to her knuckles. “Pleasure, M’lady. While your kingdom is vibrant and glorious, it pales in comparison to your beauty.” He could have sworn she rolled her eyes, but she lowered her head before her emerald orbs could meet his. She didn’t even glance at her brother before she spoke.

“I’m sure the journey was long, and you would prefer to be taken to your chambers rather than spend another second pretending to be impressed by my overwhelming beauty.”

Killian snorted loudly beside him, and Liam elbowed him swiftly, a satisfying groan exiting his brother’s throat.

The King glanced at his daughter who barely gave him a glance as she took her place beside her mother.

“I will have you taken to your rooms; shall we expect you for dinner this evening?” The King interjected.

“Certainly, I look forward to seeing you this evening.” Liam said with a bow, turning to exit the room and dragging his brother forward with him. Once they were shown to their rooms, Killian doubled over with a rambunctious howl.

“Hopefully, she likes your performance in bed more than she enjoys your compliments.”

Liam groaned, he assumed all he needed to do was to arrive in Misthaven, court this woman and return home to his kingdom with a bride to be. Based on her reaction to him, that was going to be a bigger challenge than he planned.

Bloody hell.

#love or duty #stacy's fics #emma swan #killian jones #captain swan #captain swan fics #captain swan au

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celosiaa · 4 years

Text

let me be your shelter

CHRISTMAS FIC CHRISTMAS FIC!! Chapter one is here--many many days after I intended it to be up. It’s not exactly what I want it to be. But I hope you’ll find it enjoyable all the same. Chapter two is coming, I promise :)

“Come on, dads!!”

Calling from far ahead of them, Emma races through the snow, braids flying behind her in the bitter cold wind. Not that she seems to mind—according to the past week of dancing around the kitchen, marking the days off with big red x’s on their wall calendar, and reminding her dads over and over again that this Friday is the day—this was set to be the best day of her twelve-year-old life yet.

“Come on!”

“Just slow down a moment, Em!” Jon calls with a laugh, brushing a wayward curl out of his eyes. “You’re missing a lot of good ones!”

It’s true—she had, in fact, been flying so quickly past the rows and rows of Christmas trees, ripe for the cutting, barely brushing past on her search to find just the right one. That of course, Martin had to remind her could only be so tall, could only be so wide if it were to fit in their flat. And naturally, it didn’t seem she was going to listen.

“I want to find the biggest one!”

“I know, habibti,” Jon calls back. “But remember what Dad said, right? Martin?”

At the sound of his name, his eyes snap to Jon’s, brows lifted as if slightly alarmed.

“What I—said?”

“About the tree, darling,” Jon mutters, slipping his double-gloved hand around Martin’s bare one, grounding him.

This time of year was always difficult for him—the darkening of the sky casting long shadows over his thoughts, which already fill with fog far more often than makes Jon comfortable. Even if he does have a sun lamp at home, something to drive it away for a bit—it has been abundantly clear that the past week especially has been a struggle. Today, however, things had seemed a bit lighter—or at least, so Jon had thought.

“Oh—right. Right, darling, we’ve got to get just a medium-sized one, yeah? Otherwise it won’t stand up straight!” he says, a ghost of a smile playing across his wind-flushed face.

“Ugghh, fine,” she laments, rolling her eyes as far as they will go and widening the gap between them in frustration.

“Is it storming up there, love?” Jon asks quietly, squeezing his hand and trying to catch his gaze with his own.

At the familiar metaphor, Martin obliges—smile drawn up so his cheeks just touch the edges of his glasses, hiding the deep bags that had only just begun to fade from the depressive episode of the past weeks.

“Just overcast, is all. I’m fine,” he assures, squeezing back—and Jon raises an eyebrow in question, doubtful of Martin’s definition of “fine.”

“No, really, I am,” he laughs, bending down to press a quick kiss to the top of Jon’s head. “Promise. Thank you for checking.”

Supposing that would have to do for now, Jon decides to let the matter go—looping his arm through Martin’s as they keep walking down the snow-dusted path.

“Alright,” he whispers, brushing his lips against Martin’s shoulder. “Let me know if the weather turns.”

“I will. Don’t worry, love.”

Of course I will. Always.

“Here! I’ve got one!”

Shouting excitedly from up ahead, Emma waves her gloved hands around in the air, before diving right into the branches to hug the trunk of the tree that was, objectively, the best of the lot. This pulls a true, gorgeous bit of laughter from Martin—the first time Jon has heard it in weeks.

To Jon, there could not be a single thing more lovely.

“That’s a good one, Em,” Jon praises as they reach her, trying very hard not to think about all the sap likely to stick in her newly-plaited hair. “What do you think, Dad?”

“Hmm…”

Feigning a moment of deep consideration earns him an intense doe-eyed, pleading look from his daughter, silently begging. As if he could truly refuse her.

“Well, by my calculations,” he says, winking a bit at his husband, who rolls his eyes fondly. “That should do just wonderfully.”

“YES!!!” Emma shouts, immediately releasing her hold on the tree and wrapping her sap-laden arms around them both. “Thank you thank you THANK YOU!!”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

It’s the first time the fog has truly cleared from Martin’s eyes in month, and Jon smiles—choosing to cherish it dearly.

—

“Little bit to the left, habibi.”

“Aw, Boss, I didn’t know we were on that level!” Tim grins, helping Martin to straighten out the tree in the corner of their flat. “Should have said something sooner, habibi.”

“Shut it, Tim.”

The winning smile he flashes Jon at his coveted prize—a bit of exasperation from him—sends a pang of warmth spreading through Jon’s chest. Even if it’s been so many years now since…everything, he still feels so lucky to be on the receiving end of Tim’s smiles again. And a bit undeserving, if he’s honest. They’ve talked about it, of course—many times, in fact—but Jon has long since been forced to accept that things will never be quite like they were before.

Though that does mean that things have the potential to be better, and for that…for that, Jon is grateful.

“Could we focus please?” Martin pants a bit irritably, as he bears the brunt of the tree’s weight. “I’d rather not be squashed by this thing.”

“Sorry, Marto! Left it is then, habibi.”

“Stop it.”

“Never.”

—

A few hours later finds them settled around a lovely fire, steaming cups of tea in their hands, courtesy of Martin. Sasha has joined them now as well, curled up with Tim on an armchair with Emma sitting at their feet. Beside him on the sofa sits Martin, his arm wrapped lightly around his shoulders—and as he’s done every holiday since the rebirth of the world, Jon finds himself pondering the fact that he never would have thought this possible. Certainly not for him, for any of them, really. They should, all of them, be dead. Or worse. And yet—and yet. Here they are, making amends. Making their home together.

A family.

“Em, you would not believe the kinds of things your Baba and I used to get up to,” Tim grins, the bit of wine he’s had over the course of the evening painting his cheeks rosy. “Before he became my boring boss, that is. He’s absolutely mad.”

“Tim—“

“You hush,” he bellows, still laughing. “Emma deserves to know about the time we got trapped in that apartment complex, do you remember?”

“You’ve just told me to hush.”

“Hush, Jon, I’m telling a story!”

Rolling his eyes, Jon picks up his own glass again, taking the opportunity to sneak a glance at Martin in the meantime—pleased to see the bit of ruddiness masking the lightest of his freckles, a whisper of a smile planted on his face as he listens to the conversation. Nothing cloudy in his eyes, no fog—just Martin, his Martin. And in Jon’s opinion, that more than warrants the small kiss he presses into the line of his jaw, just beneath his ear.

“Hmm, what’s that for, darling?” Martin asks, turning towards him.

“Oh, nothing,” Jon hums against him, “Just you. Just this.”

“Well, you won’t hear me complain.”

“Eww, dads!!”

Alas, they’d been caught—a disapproving Emma wrinkles her nose at them from her spot on the floor, Tim and Sasha muffling their giggles behind her.

“Sorry Em, sorry,” Martin laughs, untangling himself a bit from Jon and reaching for his own glass of wine. “Have to forgive us old and gross people.”

“You don’t have to be gross just because you’re old!” she insists, pointing a finger back at her aunt and uncle behind her. “Uncle Tim and Auntie Sasha are old too, but they’re not gross!”

“Hey!!”

Sasha’s look of incredulousness is enough to set Jon into fits—but something seems to catch a bit in his chest as he does, a vise clamping down over his ribcage.

Damn it damn it

His next inhale brings him no relief, merely tightening the grip, everything in his chest folding in on itself as he finds himself in the throes of once again gasping for air. Distantly, he rather thinks the wheezing sound of his breath to be embarrassing—but there is little on which he can focus other than keeping his vision from narrowing, narrowing.

“Jon?”

“M-Mar—”

“Are you panicking, love?”

Air air need air

“Can’t—”

He’s cut off by the closeness of his own airways sending out his breath with a fit of coughing, harsh and painful and—well, there goes his vision again.

“Here, Jon, your inhaler’s right here—”

Air air need air

Can’t breathe

Wrapping a shaking hand around Martin’s, Jon takes as deep of an inhale of the medicine as he can, holding holding holding his breath until it hurts, before letting it out—begging everything not to close again before he can get something up to his starving brain.

“Take it again, Jon. One more, come on.”

It comes just a bit easier this time, the gasping just a bit deepened, letting him pull it deeper into his lungs, opening everything enough to start his vision returning to him again. Even so, it takes a few minutes of just breathing, the room around him uncomfortably silent, save for the fading whistle of his chest, before he can even think about picking up his head again from where he’s braced it against his arms.

“—alright? You with us?”

“Sor—sorry,” he pants, still a bit breathless, shaky, heart racing uncomfortably as it always does. “Dunno—what happened.”

“Alright, Baba?”

Emma rests her hand gently atop his knee, looking quickly between himself and Martin. Lord knows he’s scared them enough times; caused them enough anxiety over his health that the guilt weighs so unbearably heavy on him in moments like this. When his daughter has to be his comfort. When he knows it ought to be the other way around.

Burden burden terrible father burden burden—

“Sorry—ha—Em,” he gasps, offering her a tight smile and a nod. The best he can do for now. “Fine—m’fine.”

“Was it something I did?” an unusually quiet Tim asks from across the room, hesitant to even draw his attention.

Damn it damn it

Of course I’ve got to screw things up again.

When Tim had first reentered their lives, they had found it difficult to process on both sides—the grief and anger and distrust layered up with trauma had proven to be a difficult thing to break down. Unhelped by the panic rising unbidden in Jon’s throat every time Tim had raised his voice, even with friendly teasing at first. Though he would never say, Jon knows how deeply this had wounded his friend—and Jon could certainly understand how upsetting it is for your own voice to become another’s nightmare.

They’d worked on it, just like everything else. Nothing of the kind of panic Jon once felt upon hearing an increase in volume has happened in years at this point, but still—still, Tim is afraid. Afraid of how fragile, how stupid, how unforgiving—

“N-no, no. Promise—not you,” he is quick to assure, snapping his head up to meet Tim’s eyes at once, desperate for his trust in this. “Not you.”

The quiet grief in the darkness of Tim’s eyes betrays his doubt.

“Why don’t you stay here and recover while I finish up with the cooking, love?” Martin offers, already rising to do just that.

“Oh—no, Martin—“

He’s tired he’s tired he’s already tired and spent and still recovering

You make everything worse

“It’s alright,” he smiles down at him, still lined with well-hidden exhaustion. “I’ve got it. Just take a minute, okay?”

“I’ll help,” Tim offers at once, following him into the kitchen. To get out of his sight, just in case he was making things worse after all. Just in case Jon was lying.

Damn it damn it

“Incoming!!”

From behind him, Emma’s voice rings out—and the cat is dropped unceremoniously into his lap, giving a soft mrrow of indignation at such treatment. As soon as Jon gives a small smile and a laugh, however, the Duquessa (for she must be properly titled) begins to purr at once, kneading his thigh a bit before draping herself across his lap.

“There you are, Jon—you’re healed!” chuckles Sasha as she stands, coming to sit beside him on the sofa.

“Quite.”

—

“Alright, love?”

Words a bit muffled by the toothbrush in his mouth, Martin gazes down at him with furrowed brows where Jon sits on their bed, lost as usual in the thickest, driest biography Martin has ever seen.

“Mmm.”

“Jon.”

“Hmm?”

His attention is caught at last, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from the hungrily-devoured words and toward his husband—hair a mess, in just boxers and a t-shirt, a bit of toothpaste splodged around the corners of his mouth.

“Sorry—sorry, what did you say?” he asks, unable to hide a fond smile as Martin rolls his eyes, turning around to rinse out his mouth and set down his toothbrush. When he’s finished, he meets Jon’s questioning look with a smiling shake of the head—before pulling Jon in to melt into his side, pressing a kiss against his hairline.

“I asked if you were alright,” he repeats, letting his lips linger longer atop Jon’s forehead this time. “You’ve been sniffly.”

“Have I?”

“You hadn’t noticed?”

“Not particularly.”

It is the truth, although a bit masked—if he is, indeed, sniffly, it seems likely to have contributed to his lingering shortness of breath that evening. Not that he had found it especially necessary to mention this to Martin. No reason to worry him needlessly, after all.

When Martin fetches him the box of tissues from the living room, however, he finds himself grateful. Something certainly seems to have built up in his sinuses, and though eased a bit by his ministrations, it seems to be something of which he cannot entirely rid himself.

“Aw, darling,” Martin tuts with concern, pressing the back of his hand against Jon’s forehead, just to check again. “Are you getting ill?”

No no no no

Can’t be ill

Can’t worry him

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he assures, offering Martin a bit of a puffy-eyed smile. “Probably just from being out in the cold.”

“Hmm.” Worrying at his lower lip, Martin sweeps his eyes briefly over the rest of Jon’s body. “What about your joints? Are you alright?”

“Yes, Martin,” Jon chuckles, rolling his eyes and fondly pressing a kiss against his husbands’ cheek. “No need to fuss, love. You need to get some rest.”

“Fussing is my specialty, though.”

“Don’t I know it.”

A small, lopsided smile spreads across his face—and Jon finds himself flushing at the gentleness of it.

Gorgeous.

“Alright,” Martin murmurs, tenderly tilting Jon’s chin upwards and into a kiss. “I’ll quit fussing, then. If I must.”

“You absolutely must. Or we’ll never get to sleep.”

“I’ll do my best, habibi.”

—

Click.

At the soft noise, Jon bolts awake, heart already pounding—from the shock of being startled awake, or POTS, he could not be sure. Perhaps both.

All he knows is that his heart is racing, and Martin is gone, and he can’t breathe.

Fuck fuck fuck

His lungs are at once too full and desperately empty—useless, vision tunneling as he pants into the darkness, reaching out blindly for his inhaler on the nightstand. Shaky, he nearly loses his hold on it twice before bringing it to his lips, forcing as much air out as he can before drawing a shallow breath of the medicine. But he cannot hold it, cannot keep it in long enough for it to work.

Help. He needs help.

He needs Martin.

“M—ha—Mar—“

He cannot choke out the words, not around the closing up of his throat, forcing him to cough without air. Without the ability to breathe back in. Dizzy, dizzy, can’t breathe, breathe breathe help Martin—

“Jon—oh, shit shit shit!”

Distantly, he hears the sound of running feet retreating from the bedroom and back down the hall—but his vision is starting to grey out, heart pounding out of his chest, and all he can focus on is don’t pass out don’t pass out don’t pass out.

“Alright, here, here—I got the nebulizer, shit. Christ, Jon.”

He loses time for a few minutes. Nothing remains in his memory but a swirling, spinning picture of the room around him, the feeling of something being placed over his mouth and nose. And when he comes fully back around, it’s to the feeling of Martin’s strong arms bracing him forward, keeping his airways as open as possible while the medicine has been allowed to work. To Martin’s shadowed face, bruises ever-deepening beneath his eyes.

Jon does not need the full powers of the Beholding anymore to know that Martin has once again gone without sleep.

“M—sorry—“

“Hush, Jon, just hush,” Martin reassures, rubbing his back when the coughing starts up again, nearly hard enough to vomit.

He won’t be trying to speak again any time soon.

“You’re alright, I’m here.”

As the minutes pass, the breaths come more easily, returning Jon’s awareness more fully. Now that his vision is no longer swirling, he takes stock of the pulse ox clipped on his finger, Martin’s eyes anxiously watching it, the mobile grasped tightly in one shaking hand, ready to call 999 at any moment.

“Martin—“

“Hush, Jon.”

“M’sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for, love.”

But there is, isn’t there? Worry, worry, always worry over him. Deepening his husband’s exhaustion, burden, anxiety.

It seems to be his lot in life to make things worse.

“Doing any better?” Martin asks as the wheezing fades from his exhales, though he wouldn’t dare remove the mask for a few more minutes at least.

“Better,” Jon whispers. “Dunno—what happened.”

“It’s been a while since you’ve woken up like this,” Martin worries, brushing a stray lock of hair out of Jon’s eyes and tucking it behind his ear. “Thought we were managing a little better lately.”

“So did—I.”

With a long, concerned sigh, Martin shifts to sit just slightly behind him, pulling him back to lean against his chest. For once—for once—the warmth and comfort of it all outweighs the guilt of its necessity.

“We’ll figure it out,” Martin assures, the slight tremor of his voice belying his uncertainty. “We’ll get it sorted, love.”

“M’sorry.”

“Shh. Just be still, Jon. Just be still.”

Though neither of them may be able to sleep that night— there is a certain rest to be found in just holding each other. And for now—for now, that is enough.

#cw asthma attack #my writing #I hope there aren't too many mistakes here #I didn't get to meticulously edit!!#but I hope it's enjoyable all the same :)#and merry christmas eve if you celebrate!!#if not I hope you're having a wonderful day all the same and you're safe and well <3 #emma

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expensiveglasses · 3 years

Text

Charming chapter 6

Summary: Prince Jungkook was as infuriating as he was beautiful. In line to one day be king, he requested your guidance in the ways of his people. In turn he will make you laugh, give your family fine gifts, and become an invaluable friend. Unfortunately, he will also make you fall in love with him. But the most unfortunate thing of all was his betrothal…to Snow White

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Fantasy, Angst, Snow white/au

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 4590

Warnings: This is the chapter the warnings have been about. It’s a heavier chapter in the second half dealing with “death” and attempted suicide. Nothing is graphically described, but if you are sensitive to that subject matter, you may want to avoid the last few paragraphs.

Trigger warnings are TW: Major character “death” TW: Thoughts of suicide TW: Attempted suicide.

. .

A month had passed since Else’s wedding and the summer was slowly coming to an end. It made it easier to do chores when the air was cooler; more pleasant to sit outside and do the washing. Though you’d mostly neglected that for the last few weeks.

You hadn’t seen your friend as much since her marriage and so you’d spent even more time with the dwarfs and Snow in their cottage. The prince joined most nights, bringing food and humor with him. You’d quickly learned he was a master of terrible jokes and couldn’t help but like him all the more for it.

This morning your mother had sent you in search of berries. She claimed to want to make preserves, but you were wise enough to know she just wanted to go see a friend and gossip. You didn’t mind so much as you chose to dawdle around the edge of the forest, plucking blueberries from bushes and placing them in your basket.

You saw the prince making his way towards you long before he reached you. The sight of him made your insides feel funny, like little wings sweeping delicately against your ribcage and you bent down to survey a raspberry bush, plucking eagerly at the juicy red fruit.

“Good morning.” The prince greeted as he reached your side and you stood straight to gaze up at him.

“Good morning, Jungkook. You’re out very early today; normally I don’t see you until evening.”

“I finished my lessons early today.” He grinned, something mischievous in his twinkling eyes, and you felt that perhaps he’d snuck out before actually finishing his training.

“I hope you won’t get a tongue lashing for this.” You teased, moving further up the path towards a strawberry bush and plucking one to try. “Mmm, they’re amazing right now. Would you like to try one?”

You moved to take another bite of yours, but the prince was faster, grabbing your wrist and pulling the berry towards his mouth, allowing plump lips to encircle the rest of the berry and separate it from its calyx.

For a moment, everything stilled, your heart thumping wildly in your chest as his fingers remained delicately around your wrist. His gaze was wild; heated on yours as he stepped towards you. Heart racing, you let the end of the strawberry fall from your finger tips and onto the ground.

“Sweet.” He murmured, licking the juice from the corner of his mouth and your vision was pulled toward the sight before you quickly looked away.

The prince paused before stepping back, staring down at the strawberry bush and into your own basket. “You’re picking berries this morning? May I help?”

“Yes, of course.” You nodded, turning back to the strawberry bush and plucking fresh fruit to drop into your basket. “There’s more in the forest.” You signaled, beginning to walk and he followed after you.

“What were you studying today?” You asked as you began to pick from new bushes. Jungkook stood nearby, loading his hand with blueberries.

“Foreign politics and language specifically. These are topics that I studied in school as well, but my father wants me polished in the policies of our own kingdom, of course.”

“Are foreign policies of other lands so different from our own?” You asked, walking closer to him so he could drop the berries in his hands into your basket.

“It depends on the country.” He mused, crouching low to pick from more difficult spots. “The ones nearby are very similar, but across waters it begins to diversify greatly. Of course, all people are human at their core, intrinsically the same if we’re all torn down to the beginnings, but traditions and belief systems vary. It’s good to have a working knowledge of any land we may come to have dealings with.”

“Ah, the duties of a king.” You smiled softly as he stood to his full height beside you. The prince drifted closer to you as you weaved your way deeper into the forest. Close enough that you could feel the graze of his sleeve against yours, smell the fresh saffron against his tunic.

“Duty, I find, is a very inconvenient thing.” He looked at you and you pondered his words curiously.

“What do you mean?” You inquired gently, slowing your pace to match his.

“Always to be bound to one’s duty, never to allow the heart to decide.”

You paused a moment. “And what does the heart wish for?” You whispered, looking up at him. He’d come to a stop and you stilled as well, turning to face him.

“I think you know.” He returned just as softly. The weight of his words was heavy to bear; it brought with it a joy you’d felt was impossible. You had hoped he would say something like that; that he’d been feeling what you were feeling. You were flush with warmth at the admission.

“But your heart cannot have its desires?”

He smiled sadly, eyes softening as he looked at you. “Duty, you see. It seems it bends for no one.”

“I wish it would.” You admit timidly and he sighed, taking your hand carefully in his own.

“As do I.”

“Snow says we mustn’t worry now, after all, the future continues and we do not know what it holds.” You smiled, feigning an optimism you didn’t really feel. If even a prince could not choose for himself, why should you feel things could be any different for you?

At least you knew you weren’t the only one wishing.

“Should we go see her?” Jungkook smiled and you nodded. He released your hand and you strode ahead of him, leading him further into the forest and eventually into the clearing that held the dwarf’s cottage.

Snow was not alone when you arrived; however, and the two of you stood startled in the doorway as you took notice of her with a young man by the hearth of the fire. They looked up at the two of you as the door swung open and Snow smiled, coming to pull you into a hug.

“You’ve come!” She cried happily. “I was so hoping you would. I wanted to introduce you both to my friend, Diterich. He’s the one I told you of, who saved me.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your majesty.” Diterich said, bowing low. “Ma’am.” He said, inclining his head towards you and you smiled in return.

He was a handsome young man, dark, shaggy blonde hair and bright green eyes. He was well built and had a bow strapped to his back; you wondered if that was his profession. He was certainly not close to Snow in rank, but he held himself as though he were made for something more than his station in life and you liked that quiet confidence. You supposed Snow did too, based on the way she looked at him.

Love sick. It made your heart ache for her and you looked carefully over at Jungkook. Destiny had not been kind to any of you.

“I’ve heard of your kindness to my friend.” Jungkook said, “When everything is well again, you should be rewarded.”

Diterich shook his head, staring down at Snow, the same look of love she’d bestowed on him, and smiled. “With all due respect, your majesty, I didn’t do it for reward.”

“I like you all the better for it.” Jungkook smiled. “How did you come to find her, though?”

“Snow sent me a communication through letter. One of the dwarfs found me in Snow’s kingdom, at her direction, and delivered it personally. I am indebted to him. It has given me much comfort to see her safe and well. I am only sorry I could not bring her some of her clothes.”

Snow waved his comment away. “It is a small inconvenience. Besides, I am far happier to have your company than to have all my dresses back. All three of you. Will you be staying for supper?”

She looked to both Jungkook and yourself and you smiled with a shrug. “It’s still so early in the day so it’s hard to say, but I imagine I’ll be able to spare some time this evening.”

“I should hope so! By the way, did you happen to notice if there are any gooseberry bushes nearby? I want to make a pie tomorrow.”

You nodded, pointing out the window. “Yes, in fact, there are some just before the tree line. Over there.”

“Wonderful!” Snow cried, clapping her hands together. “Then tomorrow you can expect some pie.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it.” You said.

“Snow has said you’ve been friends since childhood.” Jungkook said suddenly, “but I never did ask how the two of you had met.”

He inspected them with the same interest you had and you wondered if he could see what you could. The prince was intelligent, so you imagined the shared looks of longing had not been missed. Diterich looked to Snow before answering.

“We met as children. My father was a huntsman in their court and I was raised to take his place. As children, we would play in the castle together. We got into trouble a lot,” he grinned, “a princess wasn’t meant to be wrestling with a common boy. Kindred spirits, my mother would say. When my father passed, I took his place as a huntsman in the royal court. Youngest in Vildüngan history.”

His chest puffed as he said it and you smiled. “Your family must be very proud.”

He nodded, expression dropping suddenly. “My mother and sister are all I have left. They’re in hiding, though. As am I. The queen found out about the pig’s heart and ordered my head. It’s why I came here; to warn Snow.”

You looked to the princess in alarm, but she smiled at you with all the serenity of one whose life isn’t in perpetual danger. “She doesn’t know I’m here.” Snow assured, squeezing your arm. “All is well.”

“We need to start thinking of ways to get you back to your kingdom. You’re its rightful heir!” Jungkook insisted and she tutted, moving away from the hearth of the fire and towards the kitchen to keep her hands busy.

“It will all work out somehow, I have faith.” She replied flippantly and Jungkook looked angry.

“Why won’t you take this seriously?” He chastised. “She wants you dead and is actively seeking your heart. Let my father help, we can do something; go against her.”

“No.” She insisted, turning sharply to look at him. “I don’t want anyone else to be pulled into this. No one need inconvenience or injure themselves on my behalf. I’m already uneasy with how many people are involved; how many lives are directly affected because of this…I won’t have anymore.”

“But,” Jungkook began once more but was silenced as she frowned at him.

“I said no, Jungkook.”

The prince sighed, rubbing at his forehead in frustration. “Fine, I can’t make you take your safety more seriously. I must return home.” He bowed before turning towards the door and you looked from Snow back to Jungkook before following him out into the clearing, basket full of berries swinging from your arm.

“Jungkook!” You called, rushing to his side. He didn’t slow so you walked with him through the forest in silence. Just as the trees were thinning, Jungkook slowed his pace, sighing loudly.

“I’m afraid I won’t be seeing you again until the day after next.” At your questioning look, he proceeded. “My father and I are expecting foreign dignitaries this evening and we will play host until tomorrow evening as well. I won’t have time to spare while they’re here.”

“Duty, as you say.” You smiled. He returned your soft smile, nodding and reaching for your hand.

“I will be seeing you.” He said, leaving a soft kiss on the back of your hand before making his way back up to the castle. . .

Your mother was in the garden when you returned, cutting cucumbers from their stalks. She looked up as you came through the gate, waving you over.

“Why did it take so long to pick berries?” Your mother asked with a frown, taking the basket from your arms.

“I went to say hello to the dwarfs while I was in the area.” You said, bending down beside her and helping to dig up carrots at her direction.

“You’re there too often these days; what business does a young woman have visiting 7 old men so often? Aren’t they in the mines at this time of day anyway?”

You sighed, brushing hair from your face as you dropped a couple carrots into the basket beside your mother. “Well, now that Else is married I don’t always have anyone to visit.”

Your mother frowned. “Perhaps you should think of getting married soon.” She said and you looked up at her startled.

“Get married? It’s not that easy, mother. I’m not even being courted.”

She gave you a look, eyes shifting over to the house. “If you gave a little more effort where prudent, perhaps that wouldn’t be a problem.”

You sighed, shaking your head and pulling another carrot from the dirt. “I’m not in love with Peter.” You whispered.

Your mother laughed, wiping her hands on her skirt. “Love? We don’t have that luxury, my dear. You know that.” She stood, hands extended for the basket full of vegetables and you handed it up to her before standing and grabbing your own basket with berries. “I expect you here all day tomorrow. You’ve been neglecting your duties and it’s time you start preparing to run a house of your own. Time waits for no one, you know.”

She walked into the house and you watched after her, chewing on your bottom lip as you willed the tears of frustration back. You wiped your hands on the apron over your dress before walking into the house and out of the sun.

Peter and your father were in the corner, both working with new fabrics. Peter looked up at you, offering you a small smile before returning to his work and you sighed softly to yourself. Why couldn’t you just love him? . .

Your hands were sore. You’d been at the river all morning with your mother washing linen. It had been your job to beat the linen with a poss-stick as your mother insisted that’s what youth was for. You wondered if you’d ever be able to move again. What good was youth if it was wasted away on chores?

Hands feeling like they might just fall off, you wrung out the last of the fabrics before dropping it in your basket and heaving this onto your hip. Your mother chatted aimlessly as you walked from the riverside and around the edge of the forest towards your home.

You cast your eyes up towards the castle as it came into view around the bend of the trees and wondered idly what Jungkook was doing today. You knew he was entertaining foreign dignitaries, of course, but you couldn’t even imagine what that entailed. Perhaps they were holed up in some room discussing trade.

“Can you imagine living there?” Your mother asked, taking note of your gaze. You sighed, looking from her and back to the castle.

“Only in our dreams, mother.”

She hummed, shifting her own laundry basket in her arms. “If we lived in a place like that, I imagine we could have someone else tend to our washing. Our cooking, too. What must their food be like, hmm?”

You chuckled, kicking a pebble across the dirt path. “I suppose we’ll never know. Grand, I imagine, though. Warm potatoes and bread, sweet dessert’s whenever we ask for them. I would eat everything and die happy if I were them.”

“Thanks to the prince, we can have some share in their prosperity.” Your mother commented and you could see her looking at you from the corner of her eye. “He’s been very generous, as of late.”

You nodded; eyes trained on the dirt path beneath your feet. “Yes, he has been very kind.”

“He was never so kind when he was a boy. I wonder at the change.” She remarked and you wondered if she suspected more than she let on. She’d never seen the two of you together; aside from when he and his father had visited your home a few months ago.

“Perhaps he had a very good education.” You said as the roof of your home came into view. “Rumor has it he went to a school for training.”

“Rumor, you say?” She asked and you nodded, pushing through the gate in front of your house.

Conversation stopped then as the two of you went about hanging the laundry from the lines and working in the garden. Peter and your father were working on mending clothing in the home, so you didn’t feel like discussing the king and his son in their presence. It seemed your mother was also of the same mind set.

As the sun waned and the evening became cooler, Peter left your home with goodbyes and well wishes. You were only just finishing supper when the wind outside began to howl. Your father peaked his head outside the door and you watched as you ladled stew into bowls.

“A storm is approaching.” He commented softly. “I must make sure the animals are secured.” He left the home to the small stable behind your house and you listened as the wind whistled loudly from outside the walls.

“We’ve not had rain in a while.” Your mother said, helping you to bring the food to the small table. “It will be good for the crops.”

The storm raged loudly through the night, rain pounding against the timber frame of your home. It was difficult to sleep with all the noise; thunder and lightning bursting loudly across the sky. You could hear your father snoring from the small room next to yours and it soon lulled you into a fitful sleep. . .

Mornings after a storm were your favorite. The calm as opposition to the fierce raging of wind the night before a reminder that brighter days always followed the rain. You’d managed to convince your mother to allow you to check on the dwarfs this morning. You imagined they were mostly protected from the elements in their place among the trees. Even so.

After a quick breakfast of pottage, you dressed and made your way towards the forest. The sun was already sitting comfortably in the sky, illuminating the crystal blue sky and you listened happily to the sounds of birds singing as you walked through the fields.

You found, to your surprise, the prince already waiting by the forests edge. He sat upon a boulder; legs draped out in front of him as he pulled blades of grass apart as distraction. He looked up as your footsteps roused his attention, smile spreading across his lips.

“Y/N.” He beamed, standing and coming to meet you.

“I’m surprised to see you so early!” You exclaimed. “Won’t your father be missing you?”

“Actually, he and our guests drank well into the evening. They will be spending the next few hours recovering in bed.” He said with a roguish grin and you chuckled, making your way into the forest.

The prince followed quickly. “Did you not drink yourself, your majesty?” You teased and he smiled at you.

“I did, but only a little. I knew I wanted to use the opportunity to see you.”

You looked away with a small chuckle, smoothing hair away from your face.

“Well, here I am.” You smiled. Before you could continue, there was a heavy rustling in the trees and both you and Jungkook stopped, watching with unease as something came crashing through the branches.

To your surprise; it was the dwarfs who came rushing into sight and they stopped suddenly, panting before you.

“Y/N, your majesty!” Doc gasped, clutching at his rounded belly as he took deep steadying breaths. The panic in his tone was palpable and your back straightened in alarm.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. Jungkook seemed just as tense from their unusual greeting and you waited with baited breath for your friends to continue.

“It’s Snow.” Doc finally said and your alarm rose.

“What of her?” The prince asked sharply and all eyes turned to him. The dwarfs were still breathing heavily from their run; disrupting the usual quiet of the forest.

“Your majesty!” Sleepy blubbered, hardly able to contain himself. “Snow has died.”

“What?!” You gasped, eyes swiveling desperately to each face, each as stricken as the next.

“How?!” The prince demanded and Doc was quick to try and calm the atmosphere.

“She has not died.” He pacified. Your chest was so tight you thought it might burst. How could someone possibly die and not die all at the same time? “She’s been put under a spell; a sleeping spell.”

“I don’t understand.” Jungkook said tersely. You’d never seen him look so distraught.

“Allow me to explain.” Doc continued, “An old hag came to the cottage when we were away. She had a basket of apples. I’m unsure how, but Snow came to acquire one.”

“It was poisoned and that foolish girl took a bite.” Grumpy cried furiously.

Doc tried once more to continue, but Happy spoke first. “We chased the hag, but it was difficult in the storm. Chased her up the mountain but she slipped and fell off. It was the queen, your majesty. It was her stepmother.”

“Did you capture her?” Jungkook asked angrily, back ramrod straight as he paced back and forth. “Did you tie her up to be tried for her crimes?”

“No need,” Bashful said, shaking his head. “The queen is dead. She died from the fall.”

“What of Snow?” You rasped, “where is she?”

“That’s why we were coming for you, your majesty.” Doc said once again. “It was old magic the queen used; ancient. Unless she can find true loves kiss, she’ll remain asleep forever. We can take you to her.”

“True loves kiss?” Jungkook asked, voice cracking in his grief.

The dwarfs nodded. “It’s the only cure.” Sneezy bemoaned. “That’s why we came to find you, your majesty.”

“Me?” Jungkook asked, looking to you and back to the dwarfs.

They looked to you; gazes filled with pity before Doc spoke once more. “You are her betrothed, your majesty. If not you, then who?”

The pain in your chest was severe. Fracturing from the loss of a friend; ripping apart as the prospect of losing the one man you truly loved loomed like a shadow over you.

“What do I have to do?” He whispered and you looked up at him.

“True loves kiss.” Dopey murmured, eyes shifting over to you sadly and then back to the prince.

It was silent for what felt like eternity, the gravity of the situation sinking in and you felt buried under the weight of it; the forest floor waiting to accept you. The prince looked to you, tears already in his eyes, but your own vision of him quickly blurred.

“I have to try.” Jungkook choked and you could feel your heart break a little more, “she’s one of my closest friends. I can’t sit back and do nothing; I couldn’t live with myself. I have to try.”

“I understand.” You murmured. “What if you’re able to wake her?”

Jungkook paused, his eyelashes fluttering closed, a line drawing between his eyes. “Let’s not think about it right now. I have to go.” He gave you one last glance before darting further into the forest with the dwarfs and out of sight. Was it possible to die from a broken heart? You were sure the question had been asked before…you were also sure the answer was yes. Your heart ached in a way you’d never imagined it could.

The love of your life was running to the side of another woman, and though you knew his reasoning was righteous and sound, you ached for the inevitable outcome. A prince was meant to be with a princess. This was no fairy tale, not for you, at least. You can’t always have what you want.

But as you stood there in the grass, surrounded by your broken dreams, you mourned what you could never have had. Even if Snow had not eaten the apple, even had she not been born at all, you would never have been given your heart’s desire; your class was decided before you were born and you would do well to remember it.

When Snow awoke, as she inevitably would, you would be left to watch them marry. Worse still, your father would likely be commissioned to make Jungkook’s wedding clothes and you would be expected to help. That was a bitter truth you could not swallow. To carry the wedding clothing of the man you were desperately in love with…only for him to wear them with someone else.

You could not do it.

Your feet began to take you before your mind could catch up. The dwarves’ home, tucked delicately between the trees and the stream. The lighting surrounding the cottage was dim despite the morning hour, the house dark in the absence of the once warm lighting; filled with the dwarfs and Snow’s laughter and song.

Now it felt as empty as your heart. The evening turned chilly, the storm from yesterday taking with it the sun from the late summer and you shivered at the thresh hold, lifting your hand carefully to push against the door.

With a soft creak, the door swung open and you glanced inside. In their haste, everything had been left exactly as it was. An uncooked gooseberry pie sat on the counter top, flour strewn across. The fire in the fire place had long gone out. And there, by the table, an apple with one bite.

You stood in the door way a moment, staring down at the beautiful red skin of the nearly pristine apple. Contemplating. You could not bear to face a future without him in it.

With three quick strides, you picked up the apple and ran from the house, seeking out the privacy the trees afforded you. Not far from the home, in a particularly dense part of the forest, you stood staring down at the beautiful, red fruit.

A choice, so simple yet so difficult. One bite; you knew that’s all it would take…but was it really worth it? The light was fading fast this deep in the forest and you shivered, looking around in the darkness.

You thought of Jungkook again, of his handsome, smiling face. His kind and gentle heart, his loyalty and good nature. Was he with Snow White now? Had she already woken up? He was no longer your Jungkook; forever the kingdoms Jungkook and your heart wept.

You wouldn’t even be missed.

Staring down at the apple you closed your eyes, breathing slowly out of your nose before bringing it to your lips and taking a bite. It was bitter, acidic, and it burned. You coughed, dropping the apple to the ground and fell to your knees, spluttering, eyes watering as your tongue swelled and you felt your blood turn to ice in your veins.

Everything hurt, your limbs felt like they were made of fire, burning, burning, burning and then black.

Here’s the second to last chapter! The 7th is already finished and in editing. I hope you loved this chapter as much as I loved writing it and I can’t wait to hear from you! <3

#jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #bts jungguk #bts jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook

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joontier · 4 years

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The King’s Guard | Chapter 4

–> Pairings: kim seokjin x reader; jeon jungkook x reader ; min yoongi x reader

–> Rating: R | Genre: historcal drama, smut, angst, fluff | warnings: explicit language, intense pining, swearing, infidelity, implied dubious consent! (drunk yn, implied coercion), dom! daechwita yoongi, oral male receiving, unprotected sex, v rough sex, choking kink, pain kink, boobie spanking, edging, basically yoongs wanting to fuck yn’s brains out, voyeurism, sweaty sex, jk hates yoongi’s blonde hair with passion

–> Word count: 8.9k

–> A/N: This chapter is dedicated to the araw to my gabby @mintseesaw and tkg enthusiast @dameleia ILYSM BOTH u guys dont know how much i value the support you have given to me and this fic!!! I told yall i was gonna post this tomorrow but here we are BC I AM A: 🤡 Feedback is always appreciated! <3

The King’s Guard - Masterlist || navi.

The King’s Guard | Chapter 4

“Ugh, what kind of rat is trying to bother me now?” the man mumbles, dragging his poorly-worn, boot clad feet against the soil. It’s far too late in the evening, and he swears to his ancestors he will not hesitate to choke this man to death if all this noise will be for nothing. The banging won’t stop, and the servant finds himself uncharacteristically exerting more energy in quickening his steps as a neighbor shouts about keeping the noise down.

“What in the king’s name do you-“

The man comes face to face with none other than the captain of the royal guards himself who’s already handing him a pouch containing more payment than he will ever receive in his life. “I need you to do something.”

Once Jungkook had told the man of his orders, he turned on his heel, leaving the man to return to his house. With no hurry, the captain heads back to the palace, letting himself drown in his thoughts, reminiscing the past as he kicks a few stray pebbles along the path.

“Jungkook-ah, catch this!” Yoongi pretends to throw the ball in the air as Jungkook lurches forward, looking up. The older boy bends over in laughter, one arm hooked around the ball he ‘supposedly’ threw. Yoongi’s chest beams with pride, and mirth, having fooled his younger brother yet again.

“Hyung! That’s unfair!” Jungkook stomps his foot on the ground, a cloud of smoke dispersing around his feet at the strength of it. Their mother watches with adoration from where she’s preparing their lunch inside their house. Shaking her head at their foolishness, Min Misun continues to add their homegrown herbs onto the chicken stock, occasionally peering at her two sons.

They’ve been arguing more often these days, fighting even over the simplest of things. Misun is well aware though that the alleged ‘despise’ they hold against each other is nothing but playful banter between her two boys. At the end of the day, they know they enjoy each other’s company the most and that they hold the strongest bond between siblings.

They are coming of age soon too, and that endless stream competitiveness coursing through their veins is something brought about by their youth and will remain the same as never anything more than two boys playing around. The two would always make Misun choose her favorite between them, but she’d just shrug them away and tease them incessantly about not telling who her favorite was, much to her sons’ demise. She loved them both equally with all her being.

Quite astonishingly, while one was lacking in something, the other would be extremely good at. Not that they were already good at everything – as their father had taught them a vast majority of things, passing on the importance of being knowledgeable in the many fields of life.

While Yoongi excelled at swordsmanship, Jungkook was an expert at archery. One was unbeatable at field sports while the other genuinely enjoyed games that required more thinking than physical movement. They were polar opposites most times, but when they teamed up together to play (or fight!) against the other boys at the village, they were unbeatable. They knew each other’s strengths and weaknesses the most and used their unspoken dynamics to their advantage.

Just like that one time Yoongi found his younger brother getting pushed around by stronger, bigger, and older boys in the marketplace. Yoongi immediately leaves the sack of rice with his mother, running towards the circle they’ve formed around Jungkook. The older sibling pushes his way through the small crowd of boys around their age. Yoongi finds poor Jungkook trembling with fear in the midst of it all, but maintains his head held high, trying his best to appear brave even when he feels his cowardice taking over him. As soon as Yoongi reaches the center, he takes hold of his brother’s hand, dragging him out of the commotion. But definitely not before taking out the biggest one – delivering a punch straight to the boy’s face that had him falling backwards. “Pick on someone your own size,” he told the boy and threatened him with an even more painful punishment if he dared to hurt his brother once more.

Or that one time when it was Yoongi who found himself in trouble, having been accused of stealing a chicken when he was merely passing by the merchant’s stall and the actual thief slammed the chicken against his chest. With Jungkook trailing a few steps behind, seeing the whole fiasco, he placed a foot out to trip the robber. The thief unfortunately stealthily avoided his foot, getting away. He caught a glimpse of his brother concurrently being confronted by the stall owner, and takes another look at the man who was getting farther. Cursing under his breath, Jungkook takes after the robber. The young boy, being blessed with strong legs, catches the thief in no time and dragged him back to the merchant, demanding his brother to be freed from captivity.

A few more moments pass and Jeon Yeongkwan arrives from the forest after having collected firewood all morning. Yeongkwan greets his wife with a kiss, while the children scurry towards their father to greet him with a hug.

As Yeongkwan joins his children in playing, the family’s lone horse starts neighing wildly, signaling someone’s arrival. He immediately ushers his children and Misun inside, telling them to stay quiet until he deems it safe for them to come out.

He’d retrieved his trusty sword he’d kept on the bottom drawer of his closet, he takes cautious steps towards the threshold, warily gripping the weapon in his hands. He hates the fact that he’d have to use this a little too soon after the Great Colonization, but if it means keeping his family from harm’s way, he’d gladly wield it with all his strength.

With the southern city nearest to the neighboring countries, it makes the city most susceptible to colonizers. And just because the turmoil had already ended, it wasn’t enough assurance that there weren’t any foreigners left on their land lurking around to make another attempt to take their lands once more.

Peering from the corner of the brick wall surrounding their house, Yeongkwan watches a nearing horse carrying the city’s emblem. He visibly relaxes at the sight, but remains wary nevertheless. There had been rumors of foreigners impersonating citizens, taking the emblems for themselves and posing as residents of the country, and he could never risk the safety of his family

As the horse draws nearer, he sees the man atop the steed clad in the palace’s uniform. What other reason could bring a palace worker here when he’d already retired from his position as general of the southern army? He’d already made his intentions clear with the king; that he wanted nothing more than to spend his remaining days in a quiet place with his family.

It was a difficult time for the entire country, undoubtedly, and citizens had not fully recuperated from the recent conclusion of the war. Yeongkwan hopes that this man’s arrival doesn’t bring with him news of new trouble. If he was being honest, it had been a great honor to have served the king and to have fought with him side by side, and eventually spared him from death at some point. Yeongkwan loved the south clearly, he was born and raised there after all, but when he had wed Misun and blessed him with two sons, nothing else mattered more to him than his family of four.

Yeongkwan had only joined the army because of the king’s orders that at least one man from each family join the militia – a proclamation nobody in the city could contest. But it was the thought of his family well-being and safety from the colonizers that kept him alive. He’d instantly been promoted to general as the previous man holding the title had been slain in battle, and Yeongkwan was the one who plunged a sword into the colonizer who tried to stab the king at the back. He was grateful for the offer of a high military ranking but had expressed his desire not to continue working for the militia. Gratefully, the king had honored his request after the war had ended.

Now that another palace worker has found himself back to Yeongkwan’s family home, the patriarch can’t help but worry over what might be the cause of this man’s unexpected arrival.

The man pulls at the reigns, definitely making the horse halt its trotting. “Are you Jeon Yeongkwan?” The man hesitates for a moment before giving away his identity. “Yes, that is me. Can I…help you with anything?” He glances at the sword he’d rested against the wall.

The messenger doesn’t say anything, but instead retrieves a scroll from a satchel attached to the horses’ saddle. “To Jeon Yeongkwan, a message from King Daesin, ruler of the south. You have been invited to a private supper with the King tomorrow evening in celebration of the successful cessation of the foreigners from colonizing our country. The rest of your family’s presence will be highly appreciated.”

Yeongkwan nods in acknowledgment, this time truly breathing a sigh of relief. The messenger re-rolls the parchment and places the same on Yeongkwan’s hands and leaves without any other words. Misun approaches her husband as soon as the mysterious man was out of sight, placing a comforting hand at the small of his back. “Who was it?” His two sons likewise approach him.

“The King has invited us for dinner tomorrow evening.”

Misun immediately squeals in excitement, surprising the three boys of the household. “Does that mean we get to see the palace? Oh! We need to get new clothes then? How am I supposed to sew you three new clothes? We only got old ceremonial ones kept in our room but I don’t think those will still fit any of you…” She taps her chin subconsciously, deep in thought and worry.

Yeongkwan, absolutely smitten with Misun’s hidden charms and unable to control his adoration for his wife, places a chaste kiss on her cheek, “I think you’ll look beautiful in anything, my love.” Their two sons gag at the sight, passionately cringing at their parents. Yeongkwan chuckles, as Misun hides her reddened cheeks in the crook of his neck.

“In the near future my sons, when you get to marry the woman you love more than yourself, you’ll understand.”

Misun had worked on their clothes all night, and by the time she finished, the sun had already risen. She worries that she might not look presentable enough with the darkening circles under her eyes for having stayed up late, but with her husband’s constant reassurance and praise, he managed to convince Misun that she looked more than presentable.

As they reach the royal hanok, a royal guard knocks on the door once, announcing the arrival of the Jeon family. “Jeonha, former General Jeon Yeongkwan has arrived with his family.” The door opens, revealing a majestic room, one nearly thrice as large as the boys’ shared sleeping quarters.

Yeongkwan kneels to the floor, bowing in courtesy. The two boys continue to marvel at the room, mouths agape as each of their parents tug at their pants to follow suit.

The king of the south rises from his seat, approaching the family he had wanted to meet for so long. “Rise, my old friend.” King Daesin places a hand on Yeongkwan’s shoulder, beckoning him to stand up.

“Are these your boys?” he asks the former general, ruffling Yoongi’s and Jungkook’s hair at the same time. “Fine young men, you are. Just like your dad...A few years back that is,” the king observes, squatting down so he can face them at eye level. Yeongkwan smiles at the king, while the latter lets out an amused chuckle at the former’s sons who are unabashedly staring at the king of the south.

“Jeonha, it is my greatest honor to introduce to you the love of my life, Min Misun.” Yeongkwan steps aside to reveal his wife. Misun bows, letting her knees touch the floor as courtesy. When Misun rises, they meet eyes, and Daesin’s lips part lightly in astonishment.

Misun was definitely a wonder to take in. During the recesses of the war, he had been told of stories of the lady by the husband himself, who claims that there was no other woman in the nation who could compare to his wife. Daesin just wasn’t expecting that Yeongkwan’s stories had not been biased after all.

The king of the south recollects himself and bows curtly to the lady as well. At that point Yeongkwan knew, this was a battle he wasn’t going to win, because what the king wants, the king gets.

As the brothers aged over the years, the two learned to reconcile their differences and bonded over their similarities and strengthened their own abilities. Then came the subject of girls, when the now young men found attraction towards the opposite sex, both spending more time talking over the fairer sex rather than arguing over small things.

“Hyung…”

“Continue your reading, Kook. You know our father’s sentiments about our studies.” Yoongi reprimands, not bothering to spare his little brother a look as he continues to indulge himself in Confucian canon and likewise jotting down his remarks on a separate notebook.

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak, but Yoongi beats him to it, again. “And stop painting when you still have three more books to finish.”

The younger boy deflates at his brother’s words. “Hyung, you know how I feel about studying right?”

“Yes, and unless you want to get scolded at by both our parents, I suggest you put that away now and continue it later, when we’re done studying.”

“Fine. I will, but you have to answer my question first.”

Yoongi quickly puts his book and brush down, looking up to face Jungkook. Better to get this over with quickly, than to reply with a snarky comment and eventually exert more energy trying to banter with his brother.

“Have you ever liked a girl?”

The older sibling gets genuinely caught off guard with Jungkook’s query. “Well?” the younger man raises a brow expectantly. There is no escaping this now, Yoongi thinks, pursing his lips as he racks his brain for an answer.

“I-...yes,” Yoongi sighs, accepting his defeat.

“Wait...what?! For real? Well, well, well - I’m surprised some girl managed to soften my perpetually stoic, cold-blooded, ruthless animal of a brother.” Yoongi narrows his eyes. Of course, what was a conversation with Jungkook without his little brother trying to rile him up. Yoongi gets back to Confucius.

“Hyung, hyung,” Jungkook tries to get his attention once more, ceaselessly tugging at his sleeves. If Jungkook literally thinks, that after years of having to deal with this - that he can still annoy him by doing this, well...he’s definitely right.

“What now?”

Yoongi closes his eyes, trying not to release all the pent-up frustration he’d been holding in for years. Once again, Jungkook’s lame methods of trying to divert both of them from focusing on their readings had proven effective.

“Let me guess, you have a thing for Head Court Lady Kyo don’t you?” Jungkook teases, now poking at Yoongi’s sides, who’s desperately trying to keep his ticklishness at bay. “What?! No! The old lady can flirt with whoever she pleases for all I care!” The younger man laughs at Yoongi’s indignant reply.

“Hmm, if it’s not Head Court Lady Kyo that you’re fantasizing about every night, it must be a younger one then? I never took you for someone who’d find girls calling you ‘orabeoni’ quite...arousing,” Jungkook snorts, pouring himself a cup of tea and raising the same right in front of Yoongi’s face. “Well, geonbae to you, hyung. Don’t worry, I won’t judge you. We all have our preferences anyways, right orabeoni?” The younger sibling emphasizes his last word with a shrill voice, clutching on Yoongi’s arm and rubbing his face against the silk.

“You’re disgusting Kook. Stop trying to make ridiculous excuses just so you won’t continue your reading,” Yoongi reminds Jungkook once more, though he can’t deny he also got distracted himself. With a deep exhale, Yoongi closes his book and sets aside his readings. They have the rest of the day to finish it anyways.

“Fine, ‘wanna see her?”

Jungkook raises his fists in triumph. “Of course! Let’s see if you have good taste in women.” Yoongi rolls his eyes, momentarily stretching his limbs after having remained seated for so long. “Let me warn you Kook, she’s nothing like you’ve ever seen before so, so…don’t fall in love with her, okay?” He isn’t sure if his tone was serious enough for Jungkook to see right through him, but he prays for the same nonetheless. ‘Because she’s mine. I’ll make her mine,’ comes the final words of Yoongi, voice barely above a whisper. Thankfully, Jungkook doesn’t hear him.

“Honestly, hyung, I doubt we even have similar tastes. Considering you have history with Head Court La-”

“Say her name one more time and I’ll cut off your balls in your sleep.”

That effectively shuts the younger boy up.

The pair traverses halfway across the South’s palace, Yoongi leading Jungkook to the southern princess’ hanok. “Hyung, we aren’t supposed to be here. Didn’t mother specifically tell us to not to go anywhere near the royal families’ private hanoks?”

“Relax. We’ll watch from here, and then you tell me if my girl is anywhere close to your beloved Head Court Lady Kyo.” Yoongi grits through his teeth, taunting Jungkook with a quick raise of his brows.

“Whatever you say, hyung,” the younger one chuckles, this time genuinely curious who’s the mysterious girl who had managed to snatch his brother’s heart.

If only Jungkook had enough guts to tell his brother even half the truth… at the same time, he feared that if he did such a thing, Yoongi wouldn’t have taken him seriously. It wasn’t really that he wasn’t genuinely curious who’s the girl his brother won’t stop daydreaming about, but he too, had grown affections for someone as well, and Jungkook thought if maybe he heard Yoongi speak about his feelings, he would have an inkling of an idea how to handle his own.

The two brothers were nearly inseparable, but with Jungkook’s introverted self and Yoongi’s stoic character, they never really found themselves talking about things on the more serious side. They were close, but not close enough.

Yoongi, being the ‘perfect’ son that he was, used his idle time reading and training as what their parents had strongly reiterated them to do. While Yoongi was busy being the ideal child, Jungkook was out on the fields of the palace, constantly satiating his hunger for the practicality of all things natural instead of reading it from books with Chinese symbols.

Jungkook dislikes reading with great fervour. Actually, most of the other boys his age in the same village share the same sentiments so he can’t seem to figure out why Yoongi keeps on reading.

With Jungkook out enjoying the real world, he’d taken great interest venturing the ins and outs of the Southern palace, particularly the woods by the western gates.

One day, after lunch, the young boy found himself back in the woods by the west gates, this time bringing along his beloved bow and arrow with him. He’d figured this was the best place he could practice his skills in archery. As he was getting ready to target a bird resting on a high branch, Jungkook hears the rustling of leaves nearby, the sound immediately making hide beneath a tree.

He had company. Jungkook chews on his bottom lip, immediately regretting not heeding to his mother’s specific orders. “Never venture near the royal families’ private hanoks.” Her stern voice rings throughout his head. With a deep sigh, he throws his bow and arrow to the side, putting his hands up in surrender as he moves from the trunk of the tree.

He walks forward cautiously with his eyes closed, face twisted in an exaggerated grimace. Jungkook waits for someone to grab him, yet nothing happens. Prying one eye open, he’s surprised to come face to face with a girl, who’s wiping away her tears with the sleeves of her jeogori.

Genuinely astonished at the sight he wasn’t expecting, he takes another step forward, studying her appearance. She was wearing clothes of the finest silk, one that could only have been afforded by nobility. There’s mud all over the bottom of her hanbok though, which probably meant she’d been in the woods for quite some time, and judging by her distraught condition, Jungkook only presumes one thing and one thing alone: she’s lost.

“A-are you okay?”

His question only seems to have driven the girl to cry harder, because she’d gone full-on sobbing, shoulders shaking violently as she cried into her palms. “Hey,” Jungkook hesitantly extends his hand out, unsure of whether he should be touching the girl or not. He settles on patting the girl’s hair lightly from a distance. Albeit the distance being uncomfortable and awkward, Jungkook’s ministrations effectively seems to calm the girl down.

Jungkook’s eyes widen in surprise when the girl surges toward him, enveloping him in a hug. With one of his hands still awkwardly hanging in mid-air, he lets it fall gently back to the girl’s head, continuing his earlier actions. The two stay like that for some time. Jungkook’s arm is starting to get sore, but he can’t seem to bring himself to complain, not when the girl in his arms is still hiccupping her tears away.

“I’m…sorry,” the girl says, pulling away from her embrace. Jungkook wants to tell her she could stay in his arms for as long as she wanted, enjoying the feeling of being someone a stranger could literally, and figuratively lean on.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook repeats, gesturing to a fallen log nearby to make her sit and get some rest. Beside her, Jungkook patiently waits until she’ll give him an answer, genuinely concerned at her condition and what could have possibly led her to the woods all by herself.

The sat there on the log for quite some time, and the girl finally speaks. “I was following a butterfly around home,” the girl says, toying with her skirt. “I thought I was still near where I lived but the next thing I knew, I’m already stuck in the middle of the forest.”

“Did you get lost too?”

Jungkook shakes his head no, and the girl finally faces him. The boy is rendered speechless. Even with a few small traces of mud on her face, this girl seated beside him has got to be the prettiest girl he’s ever seen in his entire life. Admittedly, he hasn’t seen plenty of girls, but she has got to be on top of the list.

Jungkook opens his mouth to say something, but holds back. Instead, he retrieves a piece of cloth from the pocket sewn by his mother on his pants. “You’ve got a…um…something…face…I um…” the boy gestures to his face, fingers pointing to a portion of his face and hoping he gets the message across. “Oh!” The girl’s eyes widen in realization. She wipes her face with her soiled sleeves, only adding to the dirt on her face.

The young boy bites his lip, trying to fight the wide grin that etches itself on his face. “Here, let me help you,” Jungkook offers, rising from where he’s seated and nears the girl. Gently, he places a finger to tilt her head up, and tenderly wipes the dried mud off her face.

Every brush of Jungkook’s fingers against her soft skin sends a spark through his veins. He tries his best to focus on the task at hand, but being blessed and cursed with the attention span of a three-year-old, he feels his fingers start to tremble slightly. Plus having to resist just taking your face in his hands, to have and to hold your smooth skin against his palms, his hands start to get all the more clammy.

When their eyes meet, Jungkook feels his heart thudding heavily against his chest, before he finds himself blinking rapidly. He lets out a cough as he looks away, not noticing the blush that mutually spreads across their cheeks.

“What’s your name?” she queries, secretly fanning her face to cool the heat on her cheeks. Jungkook ponders for a moment, remembering his father’s daily reminders of not talking to strangers. He’s thankful his father didn’t mention anything about talking to pretty strangers. He settles on a nickname he’d made up at that moment.

“Call me Kookie.”

Jungkook swipes at his sleeves furiously for the hundredth time. “Will you stop fidgeting?” Yoongi complains, narrowing his eyes at his brother. “Can’t you see? There are insects crawling everywhere! I get it okay! This is my punishment for disturbing your studying. I apologize already!” Jungkook continues swatting at the poor insects who’d been callously flung from the boy’s silk-covered arms.

“Are you even waiting for someone? Or you just brought me here to suffer?”

“Shush it, will you?!” Yoongi huffs, getting annoyed at Jungkook’s nagging. Well if his brother won’t stop irking him, Yoongi decides he might as well have brought him here as punishment. “Shh, here they come!” Yoongi gives a sharp tug at Jungkook’s sleeves, nearly causing the latter to fall into a shrub. The younger teenager follows Yoongi’s line of sight – the now opening doors of the private hanok of the southern princess.

Four rows of court ladies file out, hanboks with shades of turquoise and blue walking in unison as they leave the princess’s quarters. “Keep your eyes open! She’s coming.” Yoongi whispers harshly, placing his two palms around Jungkook’s head to make sure he doesn’t lose focus. “There are so many of them though!”

“Not the court ladies, pabo! Her!”

At the end of the line was the girl Yoongi was pertaining to – she was still young, yet the stance that she held and the aura she gave off was equivalent to that of a queen’s. It was the princess of the south, dressed in her ceremonial clothes: multiple layers of red silk, embedded with the emblem of the south and a dragon imprinted on the back. Her head was adorned with several hairpins of pure gold and rare gems – determinative of your rank in the royal family. It was the princess. Yoongi had a crush on the princess. A girl of a rank way out of their leagues.

The princess of the south was rumored to have this beauty like no other, with the face and wits of no ordinary girl. She was revered as the hidden treasure of the south, someone who could bring two battling nations together as one.

Unfortunately for Jungkook, the princess of the south was also the same girl he’d helped not so long ago, the girl who came crying into his arms when she got lost in the woods, the girl who was the only reason he enjoyed visiting the palace after lunch just so she could tell stories of her daily activities, the same girl who exclusively called him Kookie – the same girl he fell for. Jungkook hears his heart rip into two.

It was you.

“Jeonha, the captain of the royal guards is here to see you.” Not bothering to wait for Yoongi’s permission, Jungkook pushes the guard aside and lets himself inside the guest’s hanok, likewise ordering the southerners to leave them be.

“They’re not your people, Kook. You can’t tell them to do things just like that.”

Jungkook lets a smug grin adorn his face. “You’re right. They’re not just yours, they are our people. So leave, now.” From one corner of the room, the General of the Southern army - Hoseok, remains seated with a steely face as he eyes the younger man, the grip on his own cup of wine tightening. ‘How dare he talk to the king like that?’ Yoongi nods curtly at Hoseok, wordlessly telling them to leave them alone.

“So, are you here to finally give your hyung a proper welcome?” Jungkook remains silent, staring at his brother. The younger man watches as his hyung discards his headband, throwing the black piece of cloth to a nearby table. Jungkook sneers, finally taking in his brother’s appearance. What was with the yellowish hair? What a disgrace to their family - what a disgrace to all of humanity.

He isn’t sure if it’s the jealousy speaking, definitely not used to his brother hogging all the ladies’ attention in the palace. Was there something wrong with having normal black hair? Since when did strange locks become a thing with women? Yoongi speaks, drawing Jungkook back to reality and away from his brother’s golden locks.

“You know, wearing the emblem of the capitol doesn’t instantly make you one of them, Kook,” Yoongi starts, pouring himself a cup of wine. Jungkook disregards his brother’s comment.

“Where is Seokjin?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

Just as Yoongi parts his mouth to say something, the hanok’s door slides open, and a disheveled man enters. “Jeonha,” the man bows from the waist, immediately scurrying to his king. He whispers something to the blonde-haired man, a scowl forming on his face as the man finishes what he has to say.

“My sincerest apologies, Jeonha,” the man bows again, not daring to look at the king of the south. Yoongi has his jaw set at the news brought by this stranger, Jungkook observes, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches his brother. Yoongi nods his head towards the door, once again ordering the man to leave the premises.

Jungkook is tempted to ask what the man reported to Yoongi, but he knows better, definitely sure that his brother wasn’t going to give him anything. “Where is Seokjin?” he repeats, emphasizing each word through gritted teeth.

“What’s it to you anyways? Don’t tell me you’re getting soft for the queen?” Jungkook stops himself from bellowing - it’s far too late to disturb anyone in the palace. “A bit rich coming from you, isn’t it?”

Yoongi’s brows furrow in confusion at his brother’s words. Of course, Yoongi doesn’t know. He was never one to ask about Jungkook’s feelings anyways. The older sibling decides to let go of his brother’s questionable words.

“I have other things do. Excuse me.”

Yoongi walks past his brother, leaving his brother inside the hanok as he searches for something to eat. Jungkook grabs at a near vase, hands tightening around the neck of the ornament in an attempt to control his anger. He intends to smash the China to the ground, but returns the vase back to its place, takes a deep breath, and decides to follow his brother. Just like old times.

“Jeonha,” Hoseok rises abruptly from where he’s seated as he sees his king exit the hanok. “What are we to do now my King?” General Jung questions, pertaining to the man’s report just earlier. Yoongi cards a hand through his hair, fingers stopping just before the ponytail. “I…I’ll think of something.” Anxiety is evident in the king’s voice, so Hoseok decides to say nothing else, quietly trailing behind his king.

As Yoongi vocalizes his intentions of heading to the kitchen, he decides to go the long way round, wanting to pass by your hanok before he grabs something to eat. Yoongi finally reaches the corner of your hanok, surprised to see light flooding onto the wooden pathway. You leave your doors open this late at night?

When the two reach your door, they take a peek inside revealing you dancing around, a vessel in one hand and clothes with the other. There aren’t even any guards around your hanok. “Jeonha, I never knew women of the capitol enjoyed solo drinking sessions as well? You two would seem like a great pair.” Hoseok nudges Yoongi a little too strong, that the king of south bumps against the door, the sound exposing their cover. Yoongi glares at the general who deflates under his king’s stare.

“Who’s there?” Yoongi hears you giggle as you call out and he sees a court lady crane her head to the threshold. “Can I help you with anything, my Sirs?”

“Just passing by, right Jeonha?” Hoseok coughs, side-glancing Yoongi with wide eyes. His king disregards him completely. “What’s your queen doing?” Yoongi turns to Chaeyoung who gulps and takes another look at you who’s busy twirling and swaying gently as you hold the fabric close to your body.

Yoongi takes a closer look, realizing that it wasn’t just any fabric you were clutching onto, but your husband’s royal garments. “Is she okay?”

You’re clearly not okay.

“Am I okay?” you ask yourself, laughing obnoxiously at no one in particular. “I’ll take care of her, you can retire to your quarters now.” The blonde-haired man says to Chaeyoung.

“You can’t make her leave, Yoongi. If you want her to leave, I have to take one of yours as well.” You point a finger towards Hoseok who’s eyes widen at your proposal. “M-me?”

“Do I look like I’m referring to somebody else?”

Yoongi chortles at his general. The amount of skills he had in fighting was on some days…the same amount he lacked up there. Yoongi places a hand on his shoulder and proceeds to give Hoseok a pat on the back. “Go on then. I’ll be alright.” Hoseok sighs, escorting Chaeyoung with him. “Agassi, shall we?”

Yoongi finally lets himself inside your hanok, sliding the doors close behind him. He strides towards you, placing a hand over your grip on the vessel of rice wine. “Come on, Jungjeon-mama. That’s enough.”

“Oh, since when did you start addressing me by my title?”

“Would you rather me address you by your name then, __________?” Your name sounds nice falling from his lips, enjoying the way you’re letting him to call you casually like this.

Your grip won’t budge on vessel either, so he resorts to poking your waist, hoping you were just as ticklish as he observed years before back at the southern palace. You let out a giggle that Yoongi concurrently deems music to his ears, and takes advantage of your loosened grip on the vessel. He sets the wine down on the table, now tempted to take a sip for himself.

“Where’s your husband, __________?”

You don’t answer. You aren’t going to give this man anything he asks for despite your intoxicated state. You silently pray that sobriety will soon fall upon you, as you don’t think you’ll be able to stand being in the same room as your unexpected visitor. Strangely, you likewise wish that you could’ve drank just a little more, just so you won’t feel his presence in your room. As you remain silent, busy with your thoughts, the king of the south answers his own question.

“Word spread around here that he’s left to pacify the South,” Yoongi shrugs, taking a step towards you and craning his neck forward, seemingly gauging your reaction even when your back is facing him.

“Well, absolutely no turmoil is going on in the South, else I wouldn’t be here gracing you with my presence. I can personally assure you that fact.”

You feel your stomach drop, getting more sober as you feel him take another step towards you. Seokjin couldn’t have lied to you, or worse, couldn’t have kept anything from you - especially something this big of an issue. On top of that, everybody knew it was the southerners who were causing all the trouble. Or was it now?

“Gracing me with your presence?” you echo, the statement laced with venom on your lips. Letting out a scoff, you turn on your heel to face the obnoxious king of the south.

“I guess nobody told their beloved queen it was the west that was causing all this trouble? Obviously, what better way to alarm the entire country by using the emblem of ‘the traitorous South’ as you people would call us.” Yoongi rolls his eyes as he takes a sip of the wine. “On the bright side, it’s nice to know we still have that certain effect on people, even years after the Great Colonization.”

“Poor girl you are...with an even sadder fate for her husband.” Yoongi pours himself a cup of the wine you’d carried all the way from the kitchen. Your jaw is clenched, gaze set hard on Yoongi who seems the least bit bothered. Sadder fate for your husband?

“Oh right, I’m betting you’re also unaware of the fact that the shortest way from the capitol to the south was through a narrow path through a forest located in the West?”

You’re dumbfounded, secretly wishing Yoongi hadn’t seen the look on your face as he told you about the west, but you couldn’t help it. Surely, he’s trying to take advantage of your drunken state and would attempt to coerce you into something against your will by lying straight to your face.

“Still don’t believe me? Why do you think King Donggeun hasn’t come down from his throne when Crown Prince Baekjoon has already turned of age? Surely, you must have taken notice that the west has least casualties of the ‘uproar’ we had supposedly caused in this country? Not to mention the casualties in their city are not even that significant – in fact, the villages that were attacked were those nearest to the borders of the south and the north, majority of which housed citizens coming from both cities…”

All sorts of emotions boiled inside of you. Yoongi’s revelation felt like a whole log just fell on you, and you were absolutely helpless. You were beyond perplexed, finding the need to rest your behind on the bedside table.

“But, it’s never too late you know… Being the merciful king that I am, I can help your husband. Send him a handful of my men if you must.” You gulp as you look him in the eyes. Yoongi will most certainly not be willing to help your husband just like that, especially when Seokjin has already made proclamations that had definitely brought dishonor to the name of the south. The thought of Seokjin having to face danger all by himself crossed your mind, betraying your thoughts and your heart once more.

The price you will have to pay for Seokjin’s safety will surely to come at a large cost – that you already know. But for your husband, you were willing to have yourself at Yoongi’s disposal, whatever the price may be. You stand up once more, turning away from Yoongi. You presume he isn’t one to give anything for free.

“And at what is the price I have to pay for your assistance, perhaps?” He doesn’t see you gulp.

Yoongi sets his cup of wine down, simultaneously darting his tongue out to moisten his lips. Slowly, he pads over to you until he’s almost pressing into you. Close, but not asserting his certainty of having the upper hand now. “I think you already know what I want, Jungjeon-mama,” Yoongi whispers salaciously, words ghosting against the shell of your ear.

It’s shameful how agonizingly hard he is under his pants – but he couldn’t help it – he finally had you in his arms. This proximity alone shouldn’t have affected him that much, but he couldn’t help it. All those years of pining after you, watching you in secrecy back at the Southern palace as you went about your royal duties, sneaking glances at you when you visited the training grounds where he studied sword fighting.

Tonight he wanted to get himself on you, to fuck you until you won’t even remember your own name when he finishes - this was your payment and it is not for your wish for him to send Seokjin reinforcements.

This was your payment for making him long after you, even after all these years and after all the women he’d met – he still chose you in a heartbeat.

He hated that you had to leave the Southern City, he hated how your stepmother had to treat you so badly, giving you enough reason to run away from the palace, he hates how everything he had done in the past just to get close to you was all in vain. He hates how he ran after you that night, only to see you already in Seokjin’s arms. He hates Seokjin for having married you, being proclaimed as the perfect husband when he could have done a totally better job at it. Yoongi could’ve worshipped the ground you walked on, but yet here you were alone in the palace while your own husband just left you with the responsibility of taking care of the whole nation just like that.

He hates the fact that you’ve completely snatched his heart from the day he first saw you, accompanying your father to the training grounds. You had shot arrows straight into the sack targets with no trouble, easily beating the rest of the boys training in the field. As cliché as it sounds, it had seemed like you shot an arrow through his heart as well.

But most of all, he despises the fact that he loves you. And he hates it all the more that he knows his own brother had fallen for you too.

Snagging your hair between his fingers harshly, you let out a gasp as he makes you look into his eyes. His hands move to discard your robe and wildly grope at your chest. A smirk grazes his lips when he feels your nipples harden under his touch.

He highly doubts that he has the same effect on you as you have on him, but at this point he couldn’t care less. He wanted to get himself off on you, intent on making you feel at least a hint of what he’s felt throughout the years.

Yoongi smashes your lips together, the bittersweet taste of wine on his mouth pressing roughly against your own. He grinds his erection against your lower stomach, effectively causing you to gasp one more time. Taking advantage of your surprise, he closes the distance one more time, slipping his tongue inside your wet cavern.

The king of the south pushes you further towards the bed until the back of your knees hit the edge, instinctively making you sit on your bed.

“Undress me,” he orders, placing his hands on his hips, likewise pulling his top upwards for your convenience. You glare at him through your eyelashes, and returning your eyes to his crotch. As you see his dick twitch beneath the confines of his pants, a smirk etches onto your face. Two can play at this game, and you’re going to make sure he gets a taste of his own medicine.

Languidly, you lightly trace the outline of his dick, watching intently as it twitches one more time you feel a small wet patch near the waistband of his silk pants. You continue trailing the pad of your finger against the smooth fabric.

“I don’t like being teased, princess.”

“The queen doesn’t like being ordered around.”

Sending him another glare, you give in to his whims, pulling his pants down his legs. His cock springs free, standing tall and proud. The pale expanse of Yoongi’s skin is a sharp contrast against the angry, red tip of his dick like it’s begging for your attention.

“Like what you see?” the man says from above. You don’t answer, unwilling to give him the satisfaction he thinks he deserves. Yoongi shivers as you take the base of his cock in your palm. You revel in his responsiveness, loving the way he basically shudders under your touch.

He doesn’t know if he’s going to last as long as he wishes tonight, but he swears to the gods above and to all his ancestors that he was going to try. He hates the fact that this is the only way he was going to have you, that never in a million years would be willing to give yourself to him.

Yoongi is drawn back to reality as you place a light kiss on the bulbous head of his cock, you languidly pepper kisses along his length. Yoongi looks down on you with hooded eyes and a swollen bottom lip that he’d bitten down on for so long.

He taps the tip of his shaft against your lips, coating them with the semi-transparent liquid that’s veiled the tip of his length. With bated breath, he nudges the head against your mouth, urging you to part your lips for him. “Open up, jagiya.”

You comply, letting his dick slowly enter your mouth; he pushes his length inside until he hits the back of your throat. He withdraws and pushes his cock back inside, inhaling sharply as you graze your teeth a little.

“You take my cock so well, princess. Fuck,”

He pushes you roughly to lie on the bed, as his hand busies itself with fisting his cock as he waits for you to get comfortable. “Did I tell you to place your legs on the bed?” Yoongi tsks at you, spanking each of your breasts as punishment.

The king of the south harshly spreads your legs and without warning, Yoongi begins to impale you on his cock at a merciless pace, hands hooking under your ankles to bring your legs to rest against his chest. “You like that being fucked roughly, don’t you jagiya?” He doesn’t give you time to answer as he bends forward, bringing your legs to rest against your chest this time as his hands wrap around your neck. The rings on his fingers are cold against your heated skin, and the way he experiments and pressing his fingers tighter around your throat as he matches it with his pace. The combined pain and pleasure just seems to bring you closer to your high.

“I’m not done with you, ______. Don’t you dare cum just yet.”

He lifts you from the bed with no trouble, and you feel the rippling of his muscles even underneath his top. Without having to pull out of you, Yoongi settles you down on a table with the height just about Yoongi’s thighs so he could enter you at a better angle.

Miraculously, Yoongi slows down his pace, and you’re unsure if it’s in consideration of his or your welfare. This position doesn’t help with your impending orgasm as with every languid roll of Yoongi’s hips he easily hits that particular spot. He toys with your nipple, tweaking and twisting the bud between his calloused fingers. With nowhere to hold onto, your hands shoot up to his arms silk-clad arms digging tiny crescent moons on his skin even with the fabric separating your nails from his skin.

Yoongi was willing to fuck you against every piece of furniture if you’d let him, and if he’d have enough stamina to last for quite some time because the thought of having you writhing under his touch can easily bring him to cum.

Still not satisfied with this position he carries you toward a the wooden foundation in the middle of your room. He needs to have you begging for him, moaning endlessly on his cock.

“Tell me you want this, princess. Tell me you need me.”

He needs to hear it fall from your lips, because he knew this was only ever going to happen once, and he wanted this one moment to forever be engraved in his brain, because he knows you’ll never be his.

“Yes, fuck Yoongi, please,” you mewl, dragging your nails against the pale expanse of Yoongi’s back. As he continues to slam into you, your fingers find purchase on his hair, giving it a harsh tug as a particular thrust hits that sweet sweet spot inside of you.

You momentarily wonder at how Yoongi has managed to hold you up all this time and not lose momentum at all. As if on cue, Yoongi lifts you higher again, the hem of his top brushing against your clit. You were so, so close. You moan loudly at the sensation, letting your head fall onto Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Oh, you liked that princess didn’t you, hmm?”

He pushes you further against the foundation, if that was even possible, and takes one of his hands holding up your ass to transfer to the front, looking for your clit. Yoongi finds your nether bud in no time, and starts rubbing circles with the pad of his thumb.

Shortly after his punishing thrusts and the abuse on your clit, you reach your high, a high-pitched sob piercing throughout the room. Your body continues to tremble with the intensity of your orgasm as he cums inside you, rope after rope of white coating your walls.

Jungkook hears, sees, and feels you moan one more time, the lewd sounds of your fucking still ringing loudly through his ears. With a deep exhale, he turns on his heel, leaving the spot he’d stayed at for the rest of you and Yoongi’s… The captain couldn’t even bring himself to say the words.

Subconsciously, his feet bring him to a familiar hanok he has not visited for a while. He silently slides the doors open and heads to the room of someone he hasn’t paid attention to for the past few days. He takes off his boots and his scabbard, setting them down in a secluded corner of the room.

He spots Haesoo’s sleeping form on the floor. He joins her, hooking an arm around her waist. The young court lady wakes at the action, a scream escaping her lips. Jungkook is quick to place his palm on her mouth, pushing her shoulder backwards so she can properly see him. She relaxes at her realization, turning her body so she could face him.

“What brings you here Captain?”

“I missed you, is all.” What a lie.

“If you really missed me, why won’t you talk to me during the day?”

“You know we can’t, jagiya. Besides, can’t I just visit my favorite girl without having questioned if I really miss her or not?” Lie. Again. One more and Jungkook might just spend the rest of the night challenging himself how many more times he could lie in such a short time span.

Haesoo shies from Jungkook’s gaze, but Jungkook places a finger on her chin and makes her face him again. He inches toward her, lips not meeting just yet, each of their shallow breaths fanning against their faces. Haesoo takes initiative, pressing her lips against Jungkook’s own. The captain easily deepens the kiss, lightly biting on Haesoo’s bottom lip that effectively makes her part them instantly.

Jungkook quickly shuffles to get on top of her, grinding his erection shamelessly against Haesoo’s crotch. She gasps at the sensation, fingers quickly toying with the waistband of his pants.

“You really miss me that much, hmm?”

“Of course, darling.” Another lie. Third time’s the charm right?

Jungkook rips apart the sleeping robe Haesoo has on, his mouth instantly connecting with her breasts, groping and sucking harshly at the hardened nubs. He wasn’t usually this messy and urgent, but he badly needed to cum – painfully hard under his pants only because of you.

The captain doesn’t even bother to prepare Haesoo, plunging himself into her pussy without warning. Jungkook pounds into Haesoo unapologetically, fucking her into oblivion, just as Yoongi did to you earlier. He imagines that it’s you moaning his name right now, chanting his name fervently like a prayer, chest heaving like it was your last day. He wishes that it was his cock buried deep inside your cunt earlier instead of his brother’s and he knew he could have done a far better job at pleasuring you than Yoongi. The captain hooks his palm under Haesoo’s thigh, raising her leg up so he’s hitting her cervix at angle pleasurable to them both.

He’d fucked Haesoo on the floor, he’d fucked her against her closet too, and similar Yoongi, he’s fucking Haesoo against the wall too.

Jungkook ruts into her endlessly, with a silent wish that he flushes you out of his system with every snap of his hips, he wishes that he had never met you in the woods in the first place, he wishes that he didn’t have to join the King’s royal guards, he wishes that he wouldn’t have to see your pretty face the whole day, he wishes that you weren’t desirable at all – that way maybe he and his brother wouldn’t have fallen for the same girl.

He wishes he wasn’t in love with you.

Of course, another lie.

A single tear trickles down his cheek, and he hopes that Haesoo won’t notice with the fine sheen of sweat on his face. He feels his thrusts falter just like his resolve. His chest constricts once more tonight and it’s definitely not because of poor stamina, but because of his emotions overwhelming him.

“I love you,” he whispers breathlessly, resting his head against the wall. Haesoo hears.

“You love me?” Haesoo takes his face in her small palms, pushing his head backwards so she can take a proper look at him. She swipes at another tear that rolls down Jungkook’s cheek.

“Of course, jagiya.” Jungkook sends her a sad smile in her direction.

Maybe if he keeps lying, it’ll all come true at some point. She gives him a lingering kiss this time, resting her forehead against his. “I love you too.”

[taglist] : @aretha170 @strxwberri-milk @vivpurple7 @wheredoiwhaaat25 @hodginss

Korean vocabulary used will be posted on a separate post for easier viewing!

#bangtanhq #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #btswritingcafe #btsguild #hyunglinenetwork #bangtanarmynet #btsghostie #bts smut #bts fluff #jeon jungkook #kim seokjin #min yoongi #yoongi smut #jungkook smut

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ptersparkers · 4 years

Text

hell froze over

summary: it’s a thursday afternoon and caliban’s taken you by surprise when he teleports to earth and asks you out on a date. not that you’d ever say no.

warnings: mentions of religion and typos, probably.

a/n: lol i can hear my parents sh*uting so i’m gonna write instead because!! we love distractions!!

add yourself to my taglist!

Sabrina Spellman swore that Hell would have to freeze over the second she saw Caliban get “soft” and care for mortals.

That day was today.

Greendale, being the small town that it was, housed many local favorites which included Dr. Cerberus’ diner, also dubbed as the local hangout of the Fright Club. There wasn’t much to say about the whole situation about who was running Hell with Sabrina’s clone down under and the Sabrina you knew alive and well, talking your ear off about Nick this, Harvey that, and Caliban this and that.

If you were being completely honest, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

So when Caliban teleported back up to Earth’s surface and caught you off guard leaving school grounds, you let out the loudest yell imaginable and dropped all of the books and stray pieces of paper you were carrying.

“Jesus Christ,” you said, clutching your heart. You bent down and started to pick up what you had dropped.

Caliban chuckled. “Not quite. Doubt he’s ever going to come to Earth.”

You didn’t pay much attention to his comment in favor of gathering everything that was on the concrete and Caliban frowned, bending down to help you pick up some notebooks that were closer to him than you. When you finally stood up, you moved strange of hair out from your face and huffed, annoyed.

“If you’re going to scare me, at least do it where people won’t see because I’m pretty sure I’ve embarrassed myself enough for this entire school year.” The corner of Caliban’s mouth lifted into a smirk when he saw you try to reassure your schoolmates and tugged on your backpack strap to get your attention.

“It’s a Thursday afternoon,” he stated.

“Yes?”

“Do you have any plans?”

You were taken off guard.

“What are you planning?” you asked with a raised brow.

“Nothing bad,” he promised. “Since Sabrina number two is down in Hell dealing with things for the weekend, I figured why not come up here and spend the day with my favorite mortal.” You laughed at the sentiment and fixed your backpack to keep the straps from falling.

“Well, I’m headed to the diner to study for a little bit before I head to cheerleading practice,” you explained. “I have about two hours before I have to be there so might as well eat and study. You know, kill two birds with one stone.”

“Mind if I join you?” he asked.

“You want to watch me study for two hours? It’a gonna be kind of boring,” you explained.

“Think of me as your study-buddy.”

“Where did you even learn that phrase?”

“Sabrina’s rubbing off on me,” Caliban said with a low laugh. He gestured away from you. “Lead the way.”

The diner wasn’t too packed when you arrived and you chose a table big enough to let you put your laptop and notebooks on while having a plate of food beside you. Your water bottle sat proudly in Caliban’s hands as he looked at the various stickers stuck to it.

“This is quite peculiar,” he said.

“It’s a bunch of memories,” you explained. “This one’s from the camp grounds Harvey and I used to go to when we were younger. The orange one is from when Sabrina and I first became friends and that red one is the first sticker I saw with the world ‘Hell’ on it after coming back from, you know, Hell.”

Caliban smiled at that one. “You’re odd.”

You tilted your head and chuckled, not knowing how to respond to such a comment. You turned your attention to the screen in front of you, reading online articles assigned to you for your AP World History class.

“What is ‘AP’?” Caliban asked, looking at the textbook that sat beside your computer.

“It stands for advanced placement. It’s basically a college course for high schoolers so we don’t have to take it when we get to college and it gives us school credit.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“It is,” you said, clicking out of the article you had finished taking notes on. “I think this while ‘Hell’ ordeal set me back because I haven’t been studying as much as I used to. At the end of the school year, everyone who takes AP classes has the chance to take a test that determines a score, which determines college credit.”

“You humans are so overachieving,” he commented, stealing a fry from your plate. “But I suppose being knowledgable isn’t bad.”

“Sometimes I feel like I put too much pressure on myself,” you confessed, your gaze back on the man sitting in front of you. “Like, does this really matter? Whether I ace or fail my AP tests won’t matter in the long run and it’s not like I can avoid going to Heaven or Hell.”

Caliban quirked an eyebrow, realizing that discovering the secrets of witches, Hell, and Heaven had left you in a turmoil that no one bothered to discuss. Sabrina was a witch and had accepted her fate on her sixteenth birthday. As for the other three mortals, they had some sort of lineage in magic that offered them solace. You did not.

“Going to Hell really messed with you, didn’t it?” You didn’t want to say anything in fear of offending Caliban. When he wasn’t trying to steal the throne from Sabrina, he was a decent person, you thought.

“Um,” you said, pausing, “I think it made me realize some things. I think those things are making me confused about the next step in my life and if what I’m doing is worth finishing.”

Caliban looked at you and the various books, notebooks, and writing utensils sprawled out on the table. He saw your color-coded planner, binders that kept your articles and paperwork in place, and the dark tint underneath your eyes. That was all he needed to know.

“I think you’re on the right path. From the looks of it,” he said, gesturing to the messy table in front of you, “you are so passionate and dedicated about learning and doing something with your life. Not many people can say the same. You have the advantage of knowing Hell exists and the second layer to humanity while others wonder about religion and faith. Use it to your advantage.”

“If I hear this correctly, it seems like you don’t want me to give up.”

“I don’t,” he said, almost too quickly. “Your ambition to do well on your tests resembles my quest to become King of Hell. As I have found out another way to rule Hell alongside Sabrina, I think you’re going to find out what you’re meant to do in life.”

“You’re starting to sound like someone who believes in God.”

He chuckled. “God and angels exist. You know that now. I suppose you’ll have to continue praying to find out what He has in store for you.”

You sat there, dumbfounded. It wasn’t too long ago that Caliban had been in the grand room, cursing angels and Heaven above out of frustration and anger. You and Sabrina had been waiting for him to finish throwing his tantrum before she could engage in business with him, so hearing Caliban talk about having faith in something that even he didn’t believe him gave you a glimmer of motivation.

“I don’t even know what to say,” you said softly, fiddling with a pen.

“Go out with me,” Caliban said. “To that drive in theater across town. You mentioned once that you like to go there when you’re stressed. We could forget about Heaven and Hell for one night.”

“Okay,” you said quietly, earning a gigantic grin from Caliban.

As you were about to pack up your belongings, you heard a “Oh for Satan’s sake” from behind you and turned to see Sabrina rolling her eyes, already dressed in her cheer uniform.

“Caliban, my clone and I are going to beat your ass if you hurt Y/N in any way,” she said in a sickly sweet tone. Caliban nodded, heading the message without much argument. You packed up your belongings and ran to use the restroom, leaving the two mystical beings alone.

“I really like her,” Caliban said after a brief pause. “And I know you don’t agree wholeheartedly but I intend to prove otherwise.”

“Y/N’s smart and won’t take anything from a boy if she’s not comfortable with it,” said Sabrina. “All I’m saying is you should watch you back should you ever hurt her in any way because it’s not just the Fright Club that’s gonna come after you.”

Caliban gulped and watched as you emerged, putting your hair in a low bun before walking outside to go to cheerleading practice.

“How does tomorrow night sound?” Caliban asked before you entered Harvey’s truck.

“Pick me up at six,” you said, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “And this time, please don’t teleport and scare me.”

The boy made of clay laughed and promised not to, watching as you climbed into the truck and waved goodbye. He saw Sabrina give him an all-knowing look, but he was determined to befriend your friends if it was the last thing he did.

Hell, he had an entire lifetime to get to know you.

***

BONUS:

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked as Harvey and Sabrina looked at you. The keys were in the engine but Harvey didn’t bother moving, opting to look between you and the spot where Caliban had teleported to Hell.

“I know he’s kind of a good guy now, but are you serious?” Harvey asked.

“What?” you asked, provoking him. “Am I not allowed to be in relationships like you two?”

“I’m just surprised, is all,” said Sabrina. “I mean, you did hate him when we first met him.”

“Absolutely nobody messes with my best friend,” you said. “You two, well, the other you, is ruling with him peacefully.”

“What is he tries to pull a trick?” Harvey asked.

You had to admit, that was a fair concern.

“I don’t think it’ll come to that, but if it does, there’s no way in Hell, literally, I’m choosing a boy over my best friends. Who, by the way, I’ve been friends longer with.”

Harvey seemed to like this answer and started the engine, driving back to the school grounds with you in between him and Sabrina.

“I guess Hell really did freeze over.”

***

taglist:

@princessdolan @ashyramblings-ficrecs.

#caliban x reader #caliban #caos x reader #sam corlett x reader #caliban imagines #sam corlett x you #caos imagines #chilling adventures of sabrina x reader #chilling adventures of sabrina #sabrina spellman #harvey kinkle #my writing #hell froze over

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coreastories · 4 years

Text

The Queen’s Horse

Part 6 of Days and Nights of Forever

The king has a gift.

The queen has one, too.

“What are you grinning at?”

Gon kept grinning, then tried to tone it down a little when she started tying her hair.

“And why am I wearing this?” Tae-Eul gestured to her riding habit, which matched his. But hers was red. She looked good in red. She looked… good. So good. Sometimes he forgot how tiny her waist was. It punched him in the gut every time he saw it.

He saw it every night, ran his hands over it as much as he could get away with, and it still wouldn’t fail to gobsmack him that his wife, his wife, was utter perfection.

Even when she flapped her hands too near his eyes. He chuckled, caught her hand and put chopsticks in it.

“Please eat your breakfast so you don’t kill me. And to answer your questions, I’m grinning because I’m looking at you. And you’re wearing that because I’ll show you something.”

She scowled at him but began eating. “I only wore this because the court maid looked ready to cry if I didn’t. And I’m not going to ride.”

“You haven’t even seen her yet.”

She just looked at him in that half-smiling, half-chiding way when he was like a kid showing off his horses, and kept eating.

When they were done, he took her hand and led her to the stables. It was a long walk, her hand squeezing his in reflex whenever they met someone and that person stopped and bowed.

She no longer stopped and bowed in return. Just squeezed his hand and let him know in secret of her lingering discomfort at that seeming lack of courtesy. But she had learned not to bow because if she did, they just bowed again, and lower.

He felt her relax when they were finally out on the grounds. She even leaned on him and hugged his arm with her other hand.

That was why he loved these walks so much. Loved seeing her small smile as she looked at the view and just relished the sun on her face. Loved the way her eyelashes fluttered on her cheeks, and the pink that soon rose in those cheeks and her nose from the exercise, the sun or the cold. Loved the feel of their legs brushing in each step. Loved that she kept up with him, although he always made his gait shorter when he walked with her.

And maybe he’d done something good with breakfast, because she looked happier today. Or maybe all the camaraderie with Yeong and Jangmi, Seung-ah and the guards had worked in helping her settle here. She was even friends with the Prime Minister.

He found that amazing. She was amazing beautiful perfect--

When he tripped on a huge pebble on the gravel path, she tightened her grip on his hand and arm and looked at him like he was an idiot she was fond of, but an idiot just the same. “Look where you’re going. I can’t save you if you fall flat on your face or butt. You’re too heavy.”

He looked around and hoped the guards hadn’t seen that. And of course she saw him doing that and laughed.

When they arrived inside the stables, the grooms were bringing out Maximus and the Hanoverian dark bay from their stalls. They stood almost at the same height, although the Hanoverian was one hand shorter than Maximus.

He only looked at the horses for a second. His eyes were on Tae-Eul, and he grinned when he saw her face go a little slack. Even with the other horses they had, the Hanoverian was still impressive. She had a dark coat that glimmered black, brown and dark red all at once.

“You really got a new horse?” she said, letting go of his hand to take a closer look. “She’s beautiful.”

Gon nodded at the groom to bring the Hanoverian closer, then took hold of the lead himself. He stroked the horse’s deep brown cheek. He had watched her grow up from a little filly. He had bought her on the spot when he’d seen her four years ago.

He just hadn’t known then that she wouldn’t belong to him. He looked at Tae-Eul as she also brushed her hand on the horse’s cheek and neck.

“Do you want to name her?” he asked.

She looked at him like she thought he was nuts. “What do I know about naming horses? You got her. You name her. But choose a good name this time, a lady’s name.” She scrunched her nose up at him.

He laughed. “I was a kid when I got Maximus so she never really had any luck with her name. And this one’s not mine. She’s yours. So we can ride together.”

She turned to him and he was surprised at the expression on her face. She looked torn and contemplative, as if he’d made a mistake and she was trying to assess whether to blame him or not.

When she looked around them, the grooms took that cue to not just retreat further, but to leave the stables and leave them alone. It registered to him that his--their-- people were already so attuned to their new queen, even as his brain whirred inside his cranium trying to think if he had made a mistake.

She’d always joined him riding on Maximus. He had even taught her the basics and she’d learned so fast-- too fast-- that he had to warn her about the dangers of galloping away so she wouldn’t do that without him.

She was looking down now, absently stroking the Hanoverian’s withers.

When she spoke, it was so soft, he almost didn’t catch it. “Gon, I can’t ride.”

“What do you mean you can’t? You can. You have. I taught you.”

Still speaking softly, she said, “I haven’t had my period since June.”

He opened his mouth to speak but only air came out. June was-- June was when they’d gone to the republic and had her pregnancy test done.

“I haven’t taken birth control since. We got married. And the doctor said periods might stop-- your body resets or resyncs or something. And if you’re trying to have a baby it might take some time, more or less. But if you only used birth control for a short time--”

He gently took her shoulders and turned her to face him, because he needed to look at her to digest this. What-- what was she saying?

“Tae-Eul. Are you saying you might be pregnant? And that’s why you won’t ride?” By the time he finished saying that he could feel a grin threatening to split his face. She was wonderful. He remembered the fierce protectiveness she also had when she’d thought she was pregnant back in June.

And then she answered him and he lost air again.

“I am.”

“I’m--” He blinked several times, squeezed her shoulders. “I’m confused at what you’re saying you are. You mean you are saying you might be pregnant and so you shouldn’t ride? Or you are--”

“I am pregnant.”

He just stared at her.

She clutched at the ends of his riding coat, gripping his waist as she seemed to get her thoughts in order. “Seung-ah gave me an entire year’s supply of pregnancy tests when she found out we weren’t on birth control. She said I should take one whenever I miss my period for the month. And I looked it up online and if you get a positive result it means you’re about two weeks along and I got a--”

She paused, swallowed, and bit her lips because they were trembling-- “My period should have come two days ago but it didn’t. So I tried the test earlier and got a positive result. Six tests. All positive.”

So that was why she’d taken so long in the shower. By the time she finished talking, she was breathing a little hard and looking a little vulnerable, a little emotional, so Gon couldn’t do anything else but pull her into his arms. And kiss her, of course. He kissed her wet eyelids and cheeks, caressing her face and just… staring at her.

She was unreal.

She slapped him lightly on the chest and then held on to his hands. “I was going to tell you today and you ambushed me with a new horse.” She laughed.

He smiled, but he still couldn’t breathe properly. He could hear his heart in his ears. It was racing and thumping that hard.

“You’re pregnant,” he said, and his voice had gone as soft as hers when she first spoke. Now he understood why. This… this was something sacred you didn’t want to disturb with noise.

She nodded against him, leaning her head on his chest. It was rare that she was like this, clingy and tender. It made him tighten her arms around her. But not too tight.

“We still need to have it confirmed. But maybe we can keep it to ourselves for a bit.”

He nodded, and then frowned. “What do you mean keep it to ourselves? We need to take care of you.”

She looked up at him ruefully. “I know that. I’m just a little scared-- What will Lady Noh do to me?”

Gon still couldn’t laugh, but he grinned wider. “All right. I’ll take care of you. We’ll go to the doctor. I have a family friend I haven’t seen in awhile. She’s my noona-- she’ll be discreet.”

She sighed and just softened further against him. “I didn’t know it would happen this fast.”

And just like that, it suddenly hit him then.

She was going to have a baby. They were going to have a baby. She was giving him yet another gift. First, her presence beside him. As queen. As his wife. As his best friend. And now, a child. A child who belonged to them.

He tucked his head on top of hers and kissed her hair. He was crying-- and if he had any thought and feeling to spare, he would have been embarrassed. But he didn’t. There was only Tae-Eul and this… this gift. He could feel his mouth distorting and he saw a couple of tears land on her hair.

She must have felt him trembling, because she moved in his arms and she was holding him now. “Don’t be so dramatic. We weren’t exactly lazy in getting this done.”

The twisting of his mouth stopped and Gon grinned, bending his body to bury his face against her neck. The gentleness in her hands as she stroked his cheek, neck, and ears belied the playful sarcasm in what she said. She knew what this meant to him.

He had always been alone. Without a family. And now he had her. And this… this sacred wonder between them.

He was suddenly all right with keeping it a secret for a while. It felt right. It felt too precious to let anyone else touch it.

She wiped his tears and peered at his face, stroking his cheek. “Are you happy?”

It was his turn to look at her like she’s an idiot he was fond of, but an idiot just the same. He pressed his lips to hers, felt them both smile against each other. He stood tall and hugged her close. “So happy I’ve forgotten what we’re doing here. What are we doing here? Who’s that horse beside Maximus?”

She laughed and he saw her press a kiss on his chest over his riding habit. “That’s the queen’s horse, apparently.”

He gently swayed with her in his arms, and suddenly he had enough air to laugh. So he did. Against her hair while she also squeezed him.

“I love you so much.”

“I know. Me too.”

#CoreaNews #CoreaFiction #RoyalBaby #the king eternal monarch #the king: eternal monarch #TKEM fanfic

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