#i have always known i was going to die young. always. since i was like 8. and i wasnt scared. just sad

[ctrlhope]

Bound By Blood (m)

synopsis: A servant to the state since birth, forced to work for the royal family until you die. These are the conditions that have granted you life, yet are they are the same ones that can take everything away. He can take everything away. But he would never, for you are his future, his eternity.

k.taehyung x f.reader

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: wc: 16.0k

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: genre: royalty au, soft yandere, fluff, smut, smidge of angst

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: content: soft yandere!prince!taehyung, maid!reader, power imbalance, talks about death/violence, blood, slight predator/prey dynamics, manipulation, misunderstandings, dom!tae, tae calls reader lamb, oral (f.receiving), marriage related dirty talk, virginity kink/loss of virginity, size kink, praise, reader is fucked dumb, implied kissing reader while she sleeps, implied offscreen somno, implied stalking, ownership, tae is rlly sweet and adorable

❦︎ ݁ ˖┊: notes: hello!!! this was meant to be a drabble but as you can see it spiralled out of control lmao. i got a little hyper fixated (and grew a really bad crush on this taehyung) so it ended up being way longer than i initially thought! regardless, i hope you all enjoy it as much as i did writing it!!

18+ -> minors / blank blogs dni

The Kim Empire. 

Your home, your family, your livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

They practically brandish your mind, have been since you were no more than a babe. Stuck in the clutches of everything Kim since you were born. Your mother a maid, your father gone from the face of the earth. At least as far as you are concerned he is, anyway. 

He is better off dead. The alternative of him living scott free in some far off land, meanwhile you have to serve the hand and foot of the king sets no more than the bitter taste of coffee beans against your gums. 

Bedding your mother, no more than a fresh-faced maid at the time. Outcasting her the second after when he had to have known the rules of the palace. The demise it would cost both her and her future daughter. Perhaps every generation that followed as well– if there were to be any, that is. 

Housestaff are not meant to have relationships. They are meant to serve the king and his bountiful family. How are you meant to do anything else with a child bouncing at your hip, a husband grabbing at your ass. 

You’ve heard the speech plenty of times. The words ingrained in your skull just as the brand you received when you were far too young to remember the pain of it. Evidence that you are bound to the palace by blood until the very moment you take your last breath. 

The punishment for becoming pregnant within the walls of the palace are simple: your child belongs to them. For anything within the Kim Estate is their rightful property, given to them by the grace of god. 

You, a gift from god to serve the empire. You would snort at the notion if training from a young age prohibited it. You are just a result of your mothers kindness, her naivety. 

You could never find it within your heart to blame her. She was just a girl who thought she was in love. Fired for her love. Had her daughter taken from her to serve for her love.

Love is something you will never be granted the property of. 

You will be granted an allowance to send home to your mother to keep her afloat. You will be granted a room to sleep in, clothes to wear, food to eat. A secure job in which you can never be fired– well. That is a lie. Though, your termination would come at the end of an axe, rather than a piece of paper. 

You used to muse at the thought– when you were a young girl, no more than 11 or 12. Going through your melancholy years, hating the rest of the world for simply existing. For putting you in a position where you could not change your fate, instead had to endure your present. Feeling like a  girl trapped in a tower just like the bedtime stories had always prescribed. 

One time you had caused such a ruckus in front of the oldest Kim son you really did think you were going to get the axe. Hell, you were even prepared for it. Locked away in a cell for two nights, brought before the executor. 

Right before the swing was meant to be brought down against your neck the head maid ran into the room, gave some sort of letter to the man. She apologised profusely, gripping your ear and dragging you away from the scene. 

You hadn’t acted ary since then. It taught you your place. Made you realise the need to survive buried deep within your bones. In the innate way some sort of wildcat would lash out until it was bloodied and on its last breath. 

You would not die at the end of a knife. You’d live your life, acting a maid until you could die peacefully of old age. Even if it meant surrendering yourself to servitude for the most annoying brat you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

A quiet sigh slips past your lips at the mere thought of him. The sound would get you punished if anyone were to hear, especially in respect to the coveted crown prince of the kingdom. Few share the same opinion as you of him– but then again most that work here aren’t forced. 

It is only when the stars are strung high in the sky that you allow yourself to feel such things. When you stay awake past the beginning of rest hours, most of the staff (save for the night shift) falling to sleep hours prior. Only then when you’re out in the gardens do you allow indignation to satiate your brain. 

For the few hours of freedom you may hold dear until the next morning begins and you are forced to live the same day once more. Over and over again until the end of time. 

Your fingertips reach out as you walk, bruised from the scrubbing of floors, to find purchase against the walls of flowers rimming the maze. Rough fingertips dance against the gentle petals of roses, lulling in the feeling. Picking themselves against the thorns without much of a thought, not withdrawing. Only pausing feet to observe. 

How can something so delicate and beautiful wish to cause harm? It does not. It simply desires a way to survive. You could never fault it for that. 

“Pretty, are they not?” A dark, husky voice sends cold down your spine. Hairs become on edge, back straightens taught, ears perk just as if you are an obedient dog. Fear flashing through your entire being.

You do not wish to turn around. Do not have any want to face the man that has caught the air in your lungs. The one catching you in the garden without any proper attire in place. Though you must. You must bow, grovel at his feet for forgiveness for allowing him to see you in your nightgown. For not being in bed as you should. 

Prince Kim has never been known for being kind. 

Your body acts for you while your mind sets on pause– taking several steps forward, bending your body at the hips to give a proper 90 degree bow. Your hands clasp before you, hair coming down in front of your face. 

“Prince Kim–” You rush, suddenly out of breath, “Please forgive my insolence. I-I am not of right attire or mind to be standing in front of his excellency right now. Nor should I be excused for touching the property of the palace. I have no proper excuse and any punishment you decide will be deserving. Please forgive me.” The words recite from your lips like a bible– instruction of them being heard time and time again. 

Cold night air whips at your ankles, fluttering the gown around your ankles. The chill only adding to the cold sweat you’ve discovered has perspired. Making your hair dance around your shoulders.

You expect something, anything really. A slap, a single word. Though there is only silence in response. Silence that extends far too long and feels far too pungent for your taste. If he was going to do something, you rather he just get it over with. 

After what feels like an eternity, you finally hear the baritone of his voice once more.

“Pretty, are they not?” He asks again, repeating the same sentiments as before. Confusion bristles through as a kite in the summer air. Why is he asking you this? Is he not annoyed he caught a maid in such a level of disrobement? What is he trying to gain? What does he want? 

All the questions you do not have any hope to answer rush through you causing you to feel confused and incomposed. Every boring lesson you were forced to sit through never taught you how to deal with this exact situation. You aren’t sure what he wants, nor your place in the garden. The thought scares you. 

Against your better judgement, you allow your chin to tilt up only slightly. Only enough to look at the man– to try and read the expression on his face so you can better analyse your next action. 

The shock you feel when you find his face is only inches from your own, frame bent down to make his eyes level with yours is something you cannot explain in words alone. 

You would prefer to scream and run, however that is not an option at this moment, or so it appears. Instead, your eyes only widen in shock, in trepidation. Your mouth opens into a small ‘o’ as you stare.

Never before have you made eye contact with a member of the family. Never before have you had the luxury to view one so close. In any other circumstance, you suppose, you would surely be punished for such a thing. Someone lower should never view a future king in such a way.

You wish you could say he was a heinous, ugly beast for hatred of the palace alone. Yet you can’t, for he isn’t. He is beautiful. 

Sure, you knew that already. Paintings of him are plastered across the walls– his face is everywhere eyes are able to reach. Yet this close, at this angle, you can’t stop the way your heart skips a beat. Can’t help but admire every facet of his complexion before being thrown in front of the lion again. 

A gorgeous, blinding smile wipes across his face the moment you face him. Lips forming into an adorable box after he finally has your attention fully drawn on him. You’re startled back once again, sending your brain into a further whirlwind than before. 

He desires an answer.

“I um… Yes. I suppose they are.” You nod slowly in response, following in his footsteps as he returns to full height. 

You must follow his lead– it is how you will survive. 

You usher a stray lock of hair over your shoulder, trying to stop it from hitting your face. The air starts to become stale again, feeling empty in the lack of his reply. It is awkward, and the way he stares at you, eyes darting around your face– your figure, has you feeling in some sort of girlish, embarrassed way. 

You think you dislike the feeling. 

“Are you a fan of roses?” His arms are pulled behind him, wrapped together as he bounces on his toes in something that looks like… boyish delight? The muddle of your brain can't help to understand a single thing. He is making no sense, trying to make conversation with you. Trying to find a morsel of companionship in someone who is meant to bow to him like he is the true god of your mortal plain.

You will have to oblige until he allows you to depart. 

“I suppose so.” 

He frowns. Try again.

“I adore them, the palace always has the most gorgeous petals all year round.” You smile at him, hoping it masks any discomfort you feel. 

The smile returns to his own lips as he begins to walk. Tilting his head to you as a cue to join him. You try to keep your paces a few behind his own, a maid should never walk beside a member of the family. Though he only slows in response, matching your gate even though it is obvious he hates having to slow down. 

Why is he behaving in this manner? It makes no sense to you. 

“The flower of devotion.” He nods, breaking the silence once more and keeping his eyes straight ahead. 

You almost want to admire his profile– the gentle curve of his nose, yet you refrain. Training your eyes ahead, keeping your fingers laced in front of you. Trying to look as put together as possible at this moment. 

“Is it?” You quiz, unable to take the awkward silence anymore. He doesn’t seem to mind it. Unbothered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his loose, flowing sleep pants. 

“Of many other things, as well.” He nods, sending a slight smile at you. 

“I don’t know much about the language of flowers.” Though it feels wrong to be talking with Prince Kim so casually, you try your best. The more you give in, mayhaps the sooner he’ll bore and the faster you will be able to run from the cage. 

“Tell me your favourite, maybe I can tell you its meaning.” He pauses and you find yourself at the foot of the gazebo. He reaches out his hand, offering to help you up the small stairs of it. 

All over again you find yourself taken aback. The prince is requesting that you touch him, not for his service, but your own. He desires to help you. Is for some reason treating you like a lady. 

You don’t understand it, yet with great hesitation you oblige. You place your hand on his much larger one, allowing it to encase it. Help you up the stairs.

“I don’t know many…” You hope he cannot hear the hesitation in your tone, “Though I’ve always been fond of lilies.” You tell him, attempting to pull your hand away from his own as you reach the top. 

He doesn’t allow it, keeping your small palm tight in his own. Fear trickles in once more, circling around your heart, constricting it. 

You knew you shouldn’t have trusted him in the slightest. It is here where you shall face punishment for all the previous misdemeanours committed. White stone shall be painted with red and you will be left to your own devices to clean up the mess.

Your lungs start to take in more air, though of course you try to disguise it. Turning around to face him, to discover why he has kept you held firm, air is leaving your lungs for another reason entirely. 

He holds your hand close, examining your fingers. Tilting it back and forth, smoothing his thumb over the back of your skin. If he takes note of the little dots of red, he doesn’t make comment of it. He only curls his fingers upwards, hooking against your own. Bringing your hand up to his lips as if it was the most delicate thing on earth. Staring at them with a passion you doubt you’ve ever seen before.

“Rebirth.” His breath fans across your knuckles, slowly lowering to place a gentle kiss against the skin. His lips are soft, so gentle against your weary flesh. So full of safety, so full of song.

When he retracts, he pulls away no more than a millimeter, though his grip tightens. 

“Purity.”

Your first meeting with the prince had left you with a flurry of emotions, none of which you could hope to syphon through. For hours he kept you in the gazebo, sitting with you. Talking until it appeared the sun was cresting over the horizon. 

He refused to release your hand the entire time. His fingers playing with your own, perhaps obsessed with the feeling of your tiny hand laced with his own pristine skin. Did not pay any attention the several times you tried to excuse yourself, only changing the subject of conversation to try and keep you in place.

It was strange. Confusing. You did not understand the reasoning or cause behind any of his actions. 

Well, at least until the next morning while you were scrubbing the floors. Your friend Annabell cleaning right by your side. Catching up, gossiping about the new recruits found in the manner. It is only times like these when you actually get the chance to talk, to giggle with someone meant to be your equal in both age and house status. 

The only chance you’re truly able to forget about the fact she is able to leave once her contract expires. But it does not matter– any small amount of spite you hold is slashed away by her kind smile. The understanding in her eyes as she treats you like just another maid set to work for the king instead of a captive. 

It is only after the 7th yawn of the morning she asks about the poorly covered bags under your eyes. You had gone to bed with the rest of the girls, there is no reason you should be so tired. You never appear to be, at least it is not shown around others.

You struggle with yourself for a moment, trying to decide whether the night before was meant to be kept as a closely guarded secret to your chest. Yet one look at your closest confidant had you spilling everything. 

The entire night– the stars, the flowers, the way he prattled on. How tight he gripped your dirty, calloused hand against his pristine soft ones. 

You feel strange speaking of it, remembering it in any way. It causes your cheeks to heat and a fury to settle below your ribs. 

It is a strange feeling, yet not an entirely unwanted one. 

Your eyes train to the floor as you spill your soul, unable to keep it in once it starts pouring out. You try to keep your tone as neutral as possible– to tell her about the night as if it was a simple news story you heard from a guard. Though, you’re unsure of your success in the matter. 

A poised laugh leaves the lips of your counter, her eyes cresting into half-moons. 

“You cannot be serious right? You tell stories.” She giggles, shaking her head before continuing her assault on the floor. 

You simply shake your own. 

“It happened, I was as shocked in the moment as you seem to be now.” She lets out a small bellow of giggles once again. 

“No, no. I believe it happened entirely. I’m only talking about the fluster of your face.” She giggles, lifting her rag and shaking it for dramatic effect. You roll your eyes, cracking a small smile.

“There is no such thing.” You laugh knowing that there is. 

“Oh my heavens. Y/n, you cannot tell me you’ve grown fond of the Prince, have you?” Her words are hushed now, much more so than before. As if someone may be listening to the conversation. 

You tense in reply, unsure of the answer yourself. The closest you’ve ever felt to fondness of another man was a stable boy a few years back. Only 17 at the time, head wrapped in romance novels that you didn’t entirely understand. He was handsome and he was kind. However just as you were starting to become closer to him, he was sent away to work at another palace. 

You had not been optimistic since then.

She takes your silence as an answer in itself. Moving towards you, gripping your shoulders and hauling you to sit on your haunches. Forcing you to look at her face as she speaks. 

“You cannot be serious.” She repeats again, hoping for any sign of doubt. All she receives is bewilderment in reply, “Y/n. You can never trust Prince Kim.” 

You sigh, “I know, Anne, I–” You’re cut off with her own voice again.

“No, not in the way you’re imagining.” She sighs, letting her hands drop from your shoulders to continue scrubbing at the floor. Making work of herself as she speaks, “The other maids don’t tell you of much, do they?” 

You can’t deny it. Your seclusion within the castle walls is only partly of your own design. 

Other maids do not feel as though they can trust you, seeing as you are full property of the crown. In their eyes, you hold not a crumb of loyalty to your own kind. Few maids speak to you like Annabell does for fear the second they say anything wrong you are going to tell the world. 

You would never, though your word is worth its weight in feathers to them.

“They don’t care for me as you do… no…” You admit, continuing to clean as well. She already knew the answer, letting out an exhale before she speaks.

“Prince Kim has a pension for… debauchery… I shall say,” She flinches at her own words, yet doesn’t know a better way to put it, “The variety in which he uses pretty words to seduce young ladies to bed with him. Royalty from other lands, general’s daughters, maids. It matters not. He likes them for the night then pretends they shall never exist again.” 

Each word she speaks sends another stab into your gut. A dull pain blooming from the same places which a swirling was forming before. 

Ah. It all makes sense now. 

“Oh.”

“He has a particular fondness for the other maids, you know. Bedding them without a second thought.” A grimace forms on your friend's lips, scrubbing harder into the already shining floors, “There is no reason to form any sort of affection for that man. It will only end with his seed inside your core and a knife in your heart.” 

Yes, everything she is saying makes perfect sense. You feel almost stupid to not see it before. Maybe you just didn’t want to see it– want to think about it in any sort of fashion. But this makes much more sense than the crown prince wanting to speak to you for any other purpose. Explains why he was acting as a true gentleman to someone so much lower than him. 

However, you find that it does not take away the cavernous pit that has formed in your gut. 

“I see, I have no desire for either.” You nod your head in understanding, not sure of what else to say. “I don’t understand why he’s taken an interest in me, though.” 

She gawks, “I don’t understand why it has taken him so long to in the first place.” She shakes her head.

“Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter. Y/n, you must promise me. You will not fall for him, nor give any part of yourself to him. He is not someone that will care for you like you deserve.” She states, blue eyes piercing icicles into your own. She is determined and will not relent until you agree.

“I do not wish to. Not after hearing all of…” You make some sort of motion with your hand, “that. Anyone would be a fool to like him.” 

You nod your head while Annabell smiles in agreement. 

“Good.” 

Those are the last words you exchange with anyone for hours. The rest of the day passed by with lightning, an endless turnstile of things to take care of. A ball was to be held soon meaning the castle would be a wreck for the next few days. Too much planning, cleaning, sewing, coordination had to take place before anyone could rest. 

Honestly, you were grateful for it. A break from thinking was much needed. As is a good night’s rest. 

You sigh, already imagining how lovely it would feel to pull off your shoes for the day. Peel the cotton off your body and replace your dress with something more comfortable. 

Oo! Hopefully enough warm water will be left for a quick bath. That would be just wonderful, your muscles would be able to unfurl. The perfect thing to lull you into a glorious sleep.

Your arms stretch over your head as you finish descending the staircase into the maid hallways. Bones in your back pop from the pressure, causing a sigh to make its way from your lungs. Your nimble fingers make their way to the ribbon holding your hair in place, untying it and allowing the tresses to fall. 

Soon you would be in the maid resting quarters– your appearance would matter not there anyway. 

You send small smiles to other staff members passing you, those that have either just woken for the night or those who still have work to do. Yet in return, each one of them just stares at you with an incredulous look. Turning and whispering to their friends as if you were not still in front of them. 

You can’t help to understand why. Those around you may not have considered you a friend, but they were never rude. Always polite when need be. It has you feeling strange, some type of nervousness as you get closer and closer to the hallway extending to the maids personal rooms. 

Rounding the corner, you discover exactly why. 

His frame looks entirely out of place standing there. A perfect, pristine picture in a hallway of drab, illuminated only by the lanterns hanging on the wall. Royal blue tunic draped on his shoulders only emphasising his status. 

He looks as though he was never meant to be here. Like a mistake was made along the cobblestone walls. No, he looks as though he is meant to be among the living. Not in your dreary, windowless life. Nothing could change that. 

You stand there frozen, a deer caught in the lanturn of a hunting party. A pounding of your heart, as well as the dark swell of your gut coming back to life. Why is he here? Why the hell does he have a bouquet of flowers?!

You wish to scream, but you don’t. You have already been caught. 

His eyes look up from where he created a small pile of dirt on the floor. His face coming alight in an instant, pushing himself to full stature from where he once leaned against the wall. Long legs making their way towards you while he suddenly has the decency to hide the bouquet behind his back. 

Annabell certainly did not mention this method of Prince Kim’s seduction. You had never seen him down here before. 

“Hi.” Is all he says once he is finally face to face with you. His face bright and youthful. Excited.

It seems all formalities have been dropped in his mind, though you refuse the notion. 

“Prince Kim.” You simply reply, lowering yourself in a curtsy. 

He pays no mind, almost pretending you never did it in the first place. Instead, he simply rocks back and forth on his heels, bouncing slightly in delight. Wanting something, unable to voice it. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” You ask, hoping to end the encounter swiftly to stop all of the prying eyes leering into your being. 

“I brought you something.” His eyes do not break contact with yours once and you can see his hand twitch by his side as if it wants to reach out for something. You're glad he has the decency to hold back, so you shall do the same by pretending you never saw the flowers in the first place. 

You choose not to ask yourself why he brought you a present. It must just be a trick of seduction.

“I am honoured to accept such a thing.” You send a small smile his way, something between real and fake. It seems to make him beam. 

His arm comes out from behind, holding the flowers between both of your bodies. You look down at them, shock written across your features. 

Sure, you had noted them as flowers before. But you think these may be the prettiest ones you’ve seen in your whole life. Petals of orange, white, and purple cloud in your eyes. Stomatas filled with the sweet pollen.

Lilies. All different kinds– ones you’ve never seen before.

They’re out of season, at least you think they are. How did he get these? Why is he giving them to you? Why is he trying to get the butterflies to return? Why is he trying to make your heart explode?

“Prince Kim…” You’re not sure what to say– instead gently reaching out to feel the velvet of a petal. Staring intently at their colours, unable to pull your eyes away. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” His voice is a husk of a whisper, as if you’re the only two in the hallway. As if other maids are not passing, as if they are not staring at the two of you.

“Yes… I… I’m not sure what to say.” It is all so hypnotic. 

“Thank you would be a good beginning, no?” His smile is soft, a light chuckle present in the tone.

You pause, tilting your head to look up at him fully– a large, real smile donning your lips.

“Yes. Thank you.” 

You feel as if you are floating, just as you would when reading those romance books in your late teen years. Like the world has stopped moving save for the prince in front of you slowly passing the flowers into your arms. 

Your hands brush against each other and you feel his fingers twitch, tightening ever so slight. Wishing to grab onto your hand just as he had done the night before. Wishing to insect every line that traces over your fresh once more.

However, he refrains. Allowing his ringed fingers to sink themselves into his pockets.

“I was just going to have them delivered. I’m not really meant to be down here, you know,” His smile is shy, “But I didn’t know your room. That, and I wanted to see you again.” 

You look down, unable to keep the eye contact he presses you for. Prince Kim is too much for you. You don’t understand how he couldn’t be too much for anyone. 

“Oh…” You’re a flush, “Thank you for saying that.” 

“It is nothing to thank me for.” He chuckles, bangs dimming the hues of his eyes, “I’m sure I bored you with all of my ramblings.” 

He did, partly, but that was more discombobulation for the situation and a sense of tiredness creeping into your bones. You shake your head quickly.

“Of course not. I had.. Fun.” Mayhaps fun isn’t the right term, yet there is no word that exactly describes your emotions of last night, nor the ones of today.

“As did I.” His lips are tight in a smile again, feet bouncing on their heels once more. He’s nervous, wants to say something again but isn’t sure how.

You’re not sure how to feel about learning what that habit means. Not sure how to feel about what any of this means. You have not had a moment alone to truly dissect what all of it is. 

“I would love to spend the night talking to you again, if you would allow me.” You don’t think you would love anything more, yet you know you would not be able to function. Would probably make a fool of yourself, too. 

“I-I think it would be best if I were to get some rest… I had not even an hour before I had to start working last night.” 

He frowns, “That’s not good for your health…” He pauses, searching your face for any signs of distress, “Then let's talk in your room. I will only stay until you sleep.” 

You pause, air drifting back into your lungs.

Ah. Right. 

The words of your friend sink in once again, breaking you out of whatever trance he had put you under. Whatever spell he laced through both of your ears to have you singing songs of praises for him and the crown. 

He wants you as a notch in a bedpost. Nothing more. It is clear as day and you are a fool to think anything other than that. This is all just a cleverly rehearsed show. You will not fall victim like your mother. 

All royalty is the same. Use use use. Beat a dead horse until it stops coughing up any sort of reprise. 

Your posture is suddenly tense, fist gripping the flowers so tight your knuckles appear white. 

How dare he think so low of you. How dare he think he might be able to fuck you for nothing. 

“Men are not allowed in the women's private quarters.” Your voice is staunch, though it is not as if he can tell nor cares. 

If he does, he doesn’t show it. 

“Ah,” The lilt is still evident in his tone, the cat playing with the mouse, “But I am not any man, am I?” His body leans a bit closer, pulling his face parallel to your own. Smirk playing on his lips. 

Beauty is a deceptive thing, isn’t it? “When I am king I’ll make it so I can see you whenever we both desire.” Something heats in your gut at those words, yet anger quells it just as fast. 

“It is a shame that you are not King yet, then.” You nod politely in his direction, trying to excuse yourself. Yet your words only seem to excite something in his eyes, lighting a fire behind them. 

“My, I didn’t know you felt that way.” He smiles coy. A flustered sensation overcomes you as you realise the double meaning behind your words. You had made it sound like you wanted him in that way when that could not be farther from the truth.

“I do not.” You state, your voice ice. Though once again, it seems that it does not pierce him. 

“There is no reason to be so cold, Y/n.” He sing songs, tapping one of his long fingers against the side of his head. 

“I am not being cold! You are just not listening.” You sigh in exasperation. Exhaustion and annoyance make you forget yourself, causing your volume to rise just as his own does. This only seems to excite him more. 

“I have heard enough.” He giggles, boyish and what others would describe as cute. Right before you’re able to argue back once again, he cuts in with his own voice once more.

“I will leave you for now. Find a pretty place for the flowers.” 

He smiles generously at you, beginning to walk away, “Have a good night. I’ll see you soon.” 

In your shamble of a disposition, you’re left stuck there. Staring at his back as he retreats down the hallway. 

The shock of everything that had just transpired coming over you all at once. How poorly you had behaved. How you spoke to him. He could have you killed for any one of those things however instead he left you with a bouquet of flowers and a promise for another night. 

You scramble to find yourself, to move yourself from out of the eyeline of every other maid. To make your way to your room, your one sanctuary as quickly as possible. 

It is only when you’re in those walls, hard oak door shut firmly beside you that you have to remind yourself of your promise to your best friend. Remember that the prince fights his battles with words and emotions. 

Your second meeting with the man had left you even more confused than the first. Thousands of questions and emotions real through your bones at a pace your brain can’t manage to understand. Leaves you fuming, trying to form a single coherent thought as you analyse the last two nights with a ferocity unimagined. 

In your state, however, you neglect to think of the one question that should be dancing before you, held on a string just out of reach. 

Why did he know your name? 

It is apparent that since that night, Prince Kim has located which room you find habitance in. 

This morning, another letter has found itself slipped under the base of your door. They have become commonplace now– letters detailing apologies for why he was unable to visit, what he had gone about on his day, his regrets that he has not heard back from you in what feels like ages. 

He’s tried to speak to you a few times in the palace when you work. His eyes always trained on you with something you’re unable to describe when you clean nearby. 

You wish you could say it was perverse in manner, but it was nothing of the sort. 

Every once and awhile you would catch a lily pinned to his breast pocket. He would send you a secret smile whenever it caught your attention. As if it was a tale meant for only the two of you to know. As if he wanted to carry a portion of you with him.

You may be naive in saying so, nor do you have much experience in the matter, but these do not feel like the actions of a man who simply wishes to find home under your dress. These feel more personal. More extravagant than anything else. 

Nevertheless, you ignore every single advance. Annabell made you promise, and it was a promise you were intent on keeping until your dying breath. 

Put the letters away in a box, never to be responded to. Avoided looking at him whenever he was near. Rushed out of rooms when it appeared he was intent on  making his war for you.

Icing out the prince is what is best. Whatever lilies he will wilt and die and you will be able to continue on with your hatred of the Kim family as well as your blood pact with the throne. 

You only wish it was that easy.

“Y/n!! Miss Y/n!!” There is a scramble outside of the door, voices hailing for your presence. You don’t know why– you’re on wash duty. Anyone, unless they’re extraordinarily new, would know that. 

The voice grows more erratic, more panicked. As if their life depends on finding you in that very moment. The other maids in the quarters send their glaces to you, urging you to go yet not one opens their mouths. 

At least one bonus of endenturing your entire life to the palace is that you have grown in rank. More than 10 years has granted you a decent position. 

A hushed sigh slips past your lips and your hands find themselves forcing the pile of sheets into the washing tub. Your hands quickly wipe away at your apron, ridding them of any moisture before pushing open the door. 

Stepping into the hallway lined with stone you notice only a single girl. Her entire form shaking as she paces the hall– panicked. Blonde curls bouncing with every step, cheeks a fluster. 

A new recruit, indeed. Celley is the name she wears. 

She had just entered with the last batch of new maids, starting at the palace no more than 2 months ago. She was a recruit you were unsure of– not having a lick of grace or balance, nor any experience with serving. But you suppose there are many reasons maids are chosen. 

You do not like to think of them.

Her feet are suddenly clamouring over to you, noticing your presence for the first time since you’ve stepped in the hallway. Her small, shaking hands grip your shoulders, holding you with all the will she seems to possess. 

“Excuse me have you seen–” She stops herself, tiny pants pausing as her eyes go wide, “Oh my days! Miss Y/n! You must hurry!” She rushes, hand gripping your wrist as she tries to pull you away. 

Though your face twists in confusion, your feet remain firm. 

“What’s the matter?” You ask, both sympathy and concern entering your frame. You can admonish her later for her lack of manners, however now, the girl seems truly frightened. Her large steel eyes looking back at you, pleading. 

“The crown prince! He’s!” She’s out of breath once again, continuing to try and urge you on.

This time, the second the word prince is muttered, you begin to follow her pace, “He’s lost his mind! He’s going on a firing spree! Locking up anyone who tries to calm him!” 

“What? Why is that? Did something happen?” You ask hushed, urging the girl to keep her voice down. Though you both are similar in age, it is apparent who has experienced this type of thing before. 

“He got into some kind of spat with his father. His instructor was fired when he tried to continue on with their lesson.” It seems she understood your message, continuing to hurry you down the halls. 

“And what am I meant to do?” 

“I-I don’t know!” She lets out a quiet yelp, pulling you closer as you exit the maid hallways and enter the palace ones, “His personal maid is away visiting family. She said to leave everything to you if something were to happen! I-I didn’t know what else to do!” 

Damn Eleanor and everything she stands for. Why the hell did she have to bring your name into this?! Shouldn’t the head maid be called in times like this?! Not you, someone who wants nothing to do with any member of the royal family. Especially the crown prince himself. Sure, there must be rumours spreading around but you had managed nearly three weeks without speaking to him!

You let out a sigh, squaring your shoulders in an attempt to appear more confident, more put together. You will do this, and you will come out victorious. Every battle before has left you victor. What is one more?

“I understand. It will be dealt with.”

The least you can gain is the idyllic picture of the prince to be shattered forever. That would be the most ideal outcome, something to truly force him out of your heart for good. You will not fall prey to him and his earthly desires. He will not win your heart. 

At least that is what you hope. 

The throne room's doors stand before you, delicate lacings of gold worth more than your entire being etched into its surface. A glittering picture for what is sure to be a bloodbath behind its contents. 

A deep inhale of warm air fills your lungs, hand pressing against the door as you force it open. Face someone you have not wanted to see nor extinguish the flames of in nearly a month. 

He stands before you, 20 paces ahead. A broken bottle in his hand as he heaves, shoulders rising and falling with the passion of ten thousand suns. The look of murder in his eyes as he stares down at a maid, her form on the ground. Bowing with as much might as she can possess, looking for any exit possible. Few other maids stand around the room, keeping their heads low, avoiding any eye contact possible. 

Though he looks like a mad man– mayhaps a god of war himself, not a single hair is out of place on his head. He is still the picture of sovereignty. And though your breath spikes, you find that you are not afraid. 

What a strange feeling it is.

The creak of the door sends single to him, has him whipping his head to face you. Anger etched into his features, a new target befalling his sight.

You stand tall, moving towards him. You will rise to the position given to you, even if it shall mean your inevitable downfall. As long as the new staff are safe.

Only, when he looks to you, no wrath is found. No anger or deceit. The second his eyes meet your own, his expression drops along with the bottle in his hands. More glass littering the floor in its wake. 

His eyes soften, his lips turning from a sneer into a gentle frown. His shoulders automatically lower, and suddenly it appears that there is no one else in the room. His legs move automatically, carrying themselves to you with such a hurried pace you would have thought he had seen a long lost friend. 

Oddly, this scares you more than when he was angered. 

You start into a bow, “Prince Kim, I’ve come in place of–” 

His arms wrap themselves around you before you can speak another word. Pulling you in, wrapping you into his scent as you're pressed against his sturdy chest. Strong arms keep you in place as he tries to make his body become one with your own. 

His face buries itself into the crook of your neck, one hand raising to tie itself in your hair. It forces you to stay in place, stay attached to him just the way he wants you to be. Allows him to inhale, breathing in all of you. Finally delving into the scent that he has been craving.

Your eyes only widen, hands staying firm at your side in shock. Heart beginning to race, head becoming lost in the soaps that only a member of a family could possibly own. 

You’re not sure what to do. How to behave. As far as you are concerned or aware, this is something that no other has had happen before. At least not so openly. Not so brazenly in front of a myriad of other people. 

But, it seems to calm him. To placate him in a way you’re not sure anyone could explain. 

You try to make a small twisting motion with your hand, try to urge everyone else to leave while they have the chance. 

They seem to take it, exiting the room as fast as possible. 

You’re sure word of this will spread throughout the castle quickly. You hope the consequences will not be dire. 

“Prince Kim–” You begin to speak after everyone has cleared out, after he holds you for what feels like a lifetime. You can’t find it in you to want him to pull away, no matter how embarrassing this seems. 

“Shh,” He quickly silences you with a gentle press of his lips to your pulse, “Let me stay like this for a moment.” 

You are unable to move. Unable to breathe after he kisses you. War could begin in that very moment and you’re not sure you would have noticed in the slightest. You are stunned into obeying his whim as he simply inhales and exhales. 

The umber in his voice only comes after a millennia, after his shoulders have completely sagged. After all the tension is removed from his body. 

“You didn’t respond to my letters.” He still doesn’t pull away, his grip on your hair tightening a fraction. 

You pause.

“I…I didn’t know where to send them.” You lie and his hand loosens. The correct answer. 

“My study. Put them under the door to my study.” He instructs like a king would. 

You’re not sure why the tone of his voice sends shocks to your gut. Pooling into something you only find in your dreams.

“But if someone were to see them–” 

“Let them.” Mumbles in your ear to you and you alone, a growl practically spiking through his voice, “I want them to know.” 

Oh. This is new. This is definitely new. This is not the same way you felt with the stable boy years ago. This has become something entirely alienating. A completely different beast. You know that now as his baritone voice sends waves straight through your gut. 

You simply nod in reply, your mouth unwilling to say anything back. The arm around your lower back grows more firm.

“Tell me where you will put your replies.” He commands into your ear. 

“Under the door to your study.” Your reply is automatic, years of answering to the kingdom evident in your tone. 

He sighs, unfurling his fingers from your locks to gently pet the top of your head, “Good girl.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead, soft as he touches you.

“Good lamb.”

You sigh, fingers deftly searching through your wardrobe for just a single pair of underwear. But once again, you turn up empty. It seems like every day that passes, another pair disappears without your knowledge. 

Perhaps one of the new girls is causing a fuss, messing up the laundry for everyone else. 

That is the only logical solution, at least. 

But logic doesn’t seem to make much sense at all anymore. You couldn’t hope to understand why few of your other belongings have come up indignant as well. 

Your favourite perfume, one of your stuffed animals, even your toothbrush! All have magically vanished from thin air over the course of the last week. 

It is too bad that you haven’t had the time to think about it, either. Preparations for the ball have been raging throughout the palace. Everyone has been on their toes, unwilling to face the wrath of the planners as they try to make everything perfect. 

You have had not one moment alone to think, either swept up in cleaning, decorating, or well… recently you and the prince have been going on walks through the garden at night. Though that doesn’t matter much. It doesn’t mean anything– just another thing he made you promise to. Claiming he wishes to spend as much time with you as he can. 

His recent fixation is trying to get you to call him by his true name. 

You would never dare, nothing is more inappropriate than such a title. It is something only his most beloved is meant to call him, and that person is certainly not you.

You try to force any thoughts of him out of your head, though it is clearly a fruitless endeavour. Especially with the dream you had the night prior. 

His hands finding themselves between your legs, touching you in a way no other has. 

You flush, quickly shaking all thoughts of the night away. 

The tea! Your tea, yes. A prescription from the doctor for this very thing.

More often than not, you wake to find a mess between your thighs. Sticky arousal between them in a perverse fashion. The region sensitive and overstimulated combined with a mess of dreams. More sexual in nature than ever before.

Embarrassed, you had turned to the only person you could trust. The palace staff’s doctor. 

She had told you it was normal– that you were simply having what she described as ‘wet-dreams’. The title alone made you feel embarrassed.

Nevertheless, she prescribed you a tea to help calm your nerves. It was meant to be passifying in nature, calming any lush desires you may have beginning to form. 

You were not sure how it functioned, however you trusted her. Found that it quelled whatever fire burned inside of your heart for the time being. 

Perhaps just a new oddity to add to your reality, you suppose. 

Finally, you find a proper set of undergarments to pull over your legs. Letting out a breath in relief now that you finally have them. 

Today is going to be busier than the last month combined– the ball is tonight. You know for a fact you will be rushed around the palace all day, fixing everything into an acute sense of perfection that only the Kim family is known for. 

You reach to spray your second favourite  perfume across your skin, only to find that the bottle has gone missing as well.

Your hairs stand on edge, a dark pit forming in your stomach.

It is all too strange for you to want to understand. 

Okay, now you’re sure Annabell must be wrong. She has to be, right? There is no other conclusion possible. 

The thoughts run through your head as you pace the small confines of your room. Thumb between your lips, biting the skin feverishly. Contemplating what it is exactly that you should do. A heavy box sitting on your bed, a letter laying next to it along with a single lily.

A month ago, you met Prince Kim in the gardens. A month ago you spoke to him all night long. A month ago he brought you flowers. He has been leaving you letters ever since. Three weeks ago he held you in his arms, made you promise to write him back. Made you promise to meet him in the gardens as many nights as you can. 

But this, you could not accept. You could not possibly think this is real. Why has he gifted you something like this?

A dress lays on your bed. The most gorgeous dress you have ever seen, in fact. Lined with crystals and gems, many layers of tulle poof from the underskirt. It must’ve cost a fortune, but it was not meant for you.  It is a dress meant for a princess, not a simple maid of the palace. Not… Not someone the prince simply wanted to bed. 

So why did it lie here, along with a lace mask and a pair of shoes. Why did it come with a note from the Prince, telling you to put it on for tonight's events? Is this why the head maid dismissed you so early?

No. You could not. You will not make a fool of yourself. You do not belong up there, dressed as a princess when you are far from the thing. That is your decision. It will be the one you stick to.

Even as hours tick past on the clock, even as you can hear the night in full swing, you stay locked in your room. Feeling the same as you did when you were a girl locked in the dungeon all those years ago. Helpless, indignant, stubborn. 

Lost in your thoughts as you try to piece together a puzzle that has several spaces missing. Feelings for the stable boy– life with him, it would have been easier than this. You’re sure of it. 

You allow yourself to imagine what life could have been like if he stayed. It would have been a cosy, peaceful. A straightforward one that didn’t leave so many questions in your head. Jungkook was always like that, spoke his mind without leaving anything to be guessed. You adored it, wished you could revel in it now. Wish you could kiss him under the cherry tree once more.

A pounding wakes you from the dream you were just beginning to weave. Loud, angry knuckles against the firm oak of your door startling you to your feet in an instant. Chills running down your spine as if your body already knew who was behind it. 

You wait too long to reply, another series of rapts following in quick succession. You’re in trouble. You’ve angered the prince in a way you’re not sure you’ll be able to find your way out of, but you have no choice. He knows your inside. You know you must face him. You must be brave.

Right before another series of knocks can echo against the walls, you finally pull the door open. 

There stands the man you knew would be there all along, sculpted like the lord had made him himself. You wish you could behold him properly, to stare at his beauty in the suit specially prepared for this night. One he asked your opinion of several times during its construction.

But you are unable to, not when his shoulders heave like a bull planning its charge. Not when his eyes are narrowed into a glare that enters your soul without consequence. Never before had you felt his anger directed at you. 

The future king would be a fearsome thing. 

“It appears you are not dead.” He states, cold and detached in a way you have never heard before. It makes you feel small, feel weak. Though by now, you know he wants an answer. He will not accept the lack of one from you anymore. 

You shift uncomfortably on your feet, “I suppose not…” 

“Then what do you suppose.” You flinch. You’re not sure.

“I– Prince Kim…” 

“Taehyung.” He interjects, though you ignore him. Only his future wife is meant to call him by that name.

“Prince Kim, I could not possibly accept this gift. You have to understand.” The way he looks at you makes you want to shrink. To appear as small as possible to placate the lion you’ve wondered into the den of. 

“I do not. You are to accept any gift I am to give you.” He is stern as if lecturing the ground beneath him. He looks massive in your tiny room, taking up much more space than you wish to grant him.

You begin to grow frustrated, annoyed. Does he have no sanity? Does he really think it is okay to play with the hearts of women so carelessly? It is disgusting. Repulsive even! You do not deserve anything like this. You begin to grow tense, grow firm like a wolf cornered. Ready to lash out with no remorse. 

That is what you are, anyway. A cornered animal with no hope to escape. 

“I won’t.” You raise your shoulders, stand taller and stare him straight in the eyes. If this will have you sent to the axe then so be it. 

He grows just as tense in reply, his lips forming a sneer as he takes a step closer towards you. 

Never before has Prince Kim been opposed like this before, you’re sure of it. The way his irises become darker is proof. 

“And why is that, lamb?” He mocks, and the fire inside of you only begins to glow brighter Of course, you’re just the lamb that's wandered into the lion's den. The lamb being prepared for meal. 

Steam clouds around your head, jaw becoming tense as you try to hold back your rage. Rage for your mother, rage for the life she was taunted into the same way the prince is trying to do to you now.

“I will not become another woman you bed and then lay waste to!” You practically shout, unable to hold back your emotions anymore. 

His nostrils flare, “Excuse me?” 

“You heard my words.” You state back, indignant, “I will not be an idiot. I will not become another woman who you use for your own pleasures!”

You hear him scoff, head turning away from you for the first time as he looks around your room. 

“You think that little of me?” His eyes make their way back to you, his face having the expression of somewhat… hurt? 

Suddenly, you’re unsure. You feel stupid all over again though you’re not entirely conscious as to why. You hurt him? How could you possibly hurt the most powerful person in the country? 

You falter in your stance, and it is obvious that he takes notice. Uses it to his advantage as he takes another step closer, makes his hand find your own. His thumb brushing soothingly over the knuckle. His hands are always so soft. 

“What else am I meant to think? I’ve heard the stories, Prince Kim.” Where once was fire lays blistering coals. Hot to the touch yet unyielding in their passion. The air in the room has changed in much the same way.

“Tell me of them.” He asks you, his voice now gentle, soft. 

It is strange, the complete change he’s had since first entering your room. Has your brain going a little haywire. Especially with the way he stares at your hands. Like they could be locked forever. 

“I…” You feel flush, embarrassed to mutter the words in front of the prince, “I’ve heard you seduce women… princesses, noblemen’s daughters, maids… the lot. Then you abandon them the next morning with your seed in their core and a knife in their heart.” 

You keep your eyes to your feet, face feeling hot by repeating the words of your friend. You refuse to look at him, you cannot take the embarrassment. 

A light chuckle leaves his lips, a hand coming up to attempt to muffle them, “Sorry, sorry.” He shakes his head, a playful glint in his eyes. You’re baring your soul to him! How dare he laugh! 

He coughs to muffle the rest of the sound, returning to the moment, “I apologise. I just had the realisation. You’re jealous of them, aren’t you lamb?” 

A mess of flutters takes up your stomach, your shoulders raising in alarm. Your lips open to try and form words, to try and deny the allegations made your way, yet you are entirely unable. 

Especially with the way he moves closer, crowds your space with such ease. Leads close to you, whispers words in your ear, voice lower than before. 

“You wish it to just be you I lay with, is that so?” You can practically hear the smile in his voice as another, more erotic chill finds its way down your spine. 

“Th-That isn’t–” You try to speak, but your voice sounds as light as air. He moves closer, arm carrying itself around your back, pulling you flush against him as he speaks sinful words. Words only for you. 

“Ah…” He sighs in relief, lips practically touching your ear once you’re finally connected to him, “You don’t like it when I go fuck your friends then come to spend my nights talking to you… writing to you… touching myself to the thought of you.” 

You cannot take it. You cannot take this, take him. Your head is spinning, clouding with the drug known as Prince Kim. Your knees feel weak, your limbs feel all too heavy. How can someone so pretty say such sinful words without a second thought. It’s too much. Far more than your poor little heart can take.

Your arms come up, press as firm as they can against his chest despite how weak they feel.

“Mmm…?” He asks in response, pulling back to look down on your face. Mock confusion spread across his features. He takes a step back, pretending to look you up and down. Like he is just playing a game of poker while all of your tells are as clear as day. 

“Or is that not what you wish?” He asks, head tilted to the side like a confused puppy, “You would like things to remain the same?” He smiles, drawing conclusions all on his own. 

He pauses, waits for you to say something, anything before continuing. But you do not, so he will keep playing this game by himself. 

“Then I shall go find someone to keep me company for the night. Mmm..” He taps his chin in contemplation, turning on his heels, meanwhile panic and dread fills every facet of your being, “What were those ones you’re friends with again? Celley? That pretty blonde? Oh, or maybe Annabell. I’m sure she would be prepared to go for a second round.” 

What? What? No, No! What is he talking about? Why is he starting to walk away?! Wait, Annabell, second time?! She has before?! 

Oh heavens, oh gods. 

“Anyway, I'll be sure to write to you after. Have a good night, dream of me.” You begin to hyperventilate as he takes one step out the door. No, he can’t leave. You don’t want him to. You don’t want him to be with anybody else. You can’t let it happen. You can’t afford such a thing! Ever! That is not where he is meant to be! 

Your body carries you before your mind does. Hand slipping out, gripping onto the back of his coat with all of the strength you can muster. Feet planted firm in your room, doing everything in your power to not let him leave.  

It is really too bad you do not see the sick smile that forms on his lips. Maybe then the pieces of the puzzle would have finally clicked in place. 

Instead he only tilts his head backwards, painting a complexion of boredom.

“N-No! I don’t want that!” You finally manage to stutter out, knuckles turning white with the strength you hold onto him. Afraid if you let go in the slightest he will pull away and disappear forever. “I don’t want you to be with other women!”

The silence that follows your confession feels a mile long. 

“Then go put on the dress.” Out of any response there could be, that certainly was not the one you were anticipating. 

“What…?” 

His chin tilts in the direction of it, urging you on, “If that is the truth, then go put on the dress.” 

“I…” You hesitate for only a moment, but scramble to motion once the prince turns to leave once again. 

You make quick paces to your bed, keeping your back to him. You feel his eyes on your back, intent on giving you no privacy to ensure you follow through on his order. 

In fact, all he does is close the door behind you. Making sure no one will be able to see in. No one will be able to watch you save for him. 

You slowly peel off the cotton of your nightgown, trying to appear brave even though his eyes are trained on your form. Even if your slip still remains on, you have never been this uncovered in front of a man before. You feel entirely bare. 

You do not look at him as you finally find your way through the tool, slipping the garment over your head with struggle, yet his face is practically predatory. 

You don’t know his plans, or what he wishes to gain. You never do. 

As the fabric settles over your hips, half of you wants to question how the size is perfect, but you refrain. Too embarrassed by everything else to even consider it an option. Your hands reach behind you to attempt to lace up the back on your own, yet another pair are already present in their place.

When did he get so close? How did he get so close without you hearing a thing? Your heartbeat must be the only sound in your ears, that must be it. 

His fingers work down your spine, tightening the dress so it fits you perfectly. Tying it off with skill you did not know he had. You feel his breath on the back of your neck. A fire begins to grow in your core. 

“I was going to present you to my father tonight.” He admits, placing a gentle kiss to the base of your neck, “The ball was meant to find my bride.” 

“Oh.” Those are the only words you can say when he is so close, arms enclosing around your waist. Pulling your back flush with his chest. 

Only words you can manage at the revelation.

“Imagine his disappointment, more so my own when the girl I had been speaking to him about did not show.” He grunts, almost as if it hurt him. Guiding your body to stand in front of the full mirror in your room. Asking– telling you to look at yourself. 

The sight is strange, yet incredible. The crown prince of the entire nation standing in your bedroom, in the maids quarters. Surrounded by squalor and chaos. Arms wrapped around a maid dressed as if she could be a queen. 

You look up at him to the best of your ability, regret plastered across your features, “Prince Kim–” 

“Taehyung.” 

“--I’m so sorry.” He does not look you in the eyes. They stay trained ahead, not straying once from the mirror. One hand rubbing small circles into the fabric covering your stomach, the other sliding to your waist.

He touches you without care, without reason. Feeling you against him for all that it is worth. 

“Actions have consequences, that is all. They can come later.” He states plainly, “For now I just wish to indulge in you.”

He brings his face down, placing it right next to yours. His hand rises, making your chin face the mirror as well. 

He forces you to make eye contact with him through it, forces you to understand each of his words clearly. 

“You’ll let me do that, won’t you?” 

You take a deep breath, gulping down all the air you can manage. You don’t think you’ve wanted anything more. 

With no more than a nod, his lips are on yours. 

Spinning you around, pressing your back against the mirror. His hands cupping your cheeks with such intensity you fear they may become etched into your skin forever. Keeping your lips closed against his own. 

His body cages you in, pressing entirely against you. Forming against you in perfect harmony, feeling two souls become one. Feeling each other fully for the first time– no pretence or public eye in the way to stop it. 

His teeth nip at your lower lip, biting in a way that has you opening them in pain. He takes the opportunity to lick his way inside, somehow pushing even closer to your body. 

Something hard presses against you and the discovery has your knees wishing to collapse. 

The prince can’t possibly be this big. He simply can’t.

The kiss has you reeling, unsure of anything. Unsure of what to do at all. It is nothing like your first kiss under the cherry tree with Jungkook. That was soft and sweet, docile as two people discover something new.

This, this is nothing of the sort. It is hungry. It is a beast that has been starved, finally getting its first meal. It is intoxicating. It is needy and desperate in a way that has your fingers trying to press themselves even deeper into the glass. It has your breath being robbed. Your lifeforce wilts away to satisfy only the prince. 

The groan he lets out as you finally give into him, finally allow him to take control of the kiss as arousal pools in your gut. It is one of the most deadly siren’s calls you think you’ve ever heard. One that would have any woman throwing themselves overboard for just a taste. 

“Finally,” He grunts, pulling no more than a millilitre away from your lips, wetness still connecting them, “My whole life I’ve been waiting for you.” He mumbles, hungrily connecting his mouth back to your own. 

Before you know it, you’re lost in the man once again. Allowing him to move you, to guide you to your bed without withdrawing from you once. Tangling your fingers into his hair, trying to make sure he doesn’t pull away. Making you drunk off of his taste, off of him. 

When he kisses you like this, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to live without him. 

Your knees hit the frame of your bed and all of a sudden you're falling backwards onto its plush lining. Panting, trying to regain some of the air he stole from you.

For the first time you’re able to look up at him, to discover the mess that he has become. Cheeks red, lips swollen. Eyes dark and twisted with lust. Hair ruffled messily from where your fingers laid. Shoulders rising and falling with effort as he catches his breath as well. 

He looks gorgeous and you can’t help yourself hoping this will be only a sight for you forever. 

He leans down, pecking your lips once more, “I couldn’t stop myself from imagining this. Since the moment I placed an order for your dress.” 

He huffs, dropping to his knees in front of you. You sit up on your elbows, face twisted into confusion as you look down at him. 

God. It is too dangerous to look at him right now. You know that as another wave of heat runs straight to your core.

“Pushing up the future queen's skirt.” He groans, hands gaining purchase on your hips, pulling you down so your waist sits at the edge of the bed, “Letting myself have a taste of her while everyone else at the party danced.” 

O-Oh. Oh. He sees you as, oh god. 

His fingers bunch in the material of your skirt, drawing in a shaky inhale as he holds onto any drop of sanity left. 

When he sees no hesitation from you, he slowly begins to push the material up your legs. Eyes trained on your own, looking to you for any sign of discomfort. 

“Have her come undone on my tongue while no else was the wiser.” He groans as he finally comes face to face with your panty covered core. 

Your brain moves at a snail's pace, trying to keep up with every tiny movement the prince makes. Trying to process his words while your head becomes fuzzy with your own arousal. 

You feel like mush, so pliable in his grip.

His large hands slowly begin to part your thighs, to look at what he has been craving for so long when your brain catches up with you, embarrassment overcoming your being. 

“Y-You can’t! I-it is dirty to do such a thing.” At least, that is what you had been taught. Though, the look in his eyes and the growl from his throat tells you the opposite.

“You could never be dirty. No part of you could ever be.” The sound he lets out is more akin to an animal than anything else, and suddenly you feel like a schoolgirl. Flustered and embarrassed beyond anything else. 

The muscles of your thighs untense, the look on your face blushed and biting. 

“You will let me?” He asks again, and despite your embarrassment, you nod. He is going to be king… his word is rule afterall. He wishes it, so it will happen. You could not be more pleased to oblige. 

His grip on your thighs is more firm than before, blunt nails digging into soft flesh as he pries your legs apart. He lets a groan resonate from the back of his throat at the sight. Panties sticking to your center, wetness pooling just behind causing the material to almost become transparent before him. 

You did not know it was possible for a man to have such an effect on you. 

Without a second thought, he pushes the material down your thighs. His tongue licking a long stripe up your cunt, savouring the flavour for every cent it is worth. 

He moans at the taste, not wasting a second before he dives back in. Lapping against you like it is his last meal. 

A mewl leaves your lips, too many feelings crossing you at once for any of them to be worth anything. 

Embarrassment, shame, fear all vanish the moment his lips wrap around your clit, sucking against the small bundle of nerves in a manner that has your back arching against the bed. Fingertips digging into the sheets to find a second lease on life. 

You try to look down at him, to find him between all of your small pants of pleasure, however he is gone. Disappearing until the layers of fabric while he brings you sensations you never thought were possible. 

His tongue moves like it is made to pleasure only you. Taking turns flicking your clit to lowering into your center. Licking up any bit of arousal he can make out. Trailing up once again to press flat against the bundle of nerves.

All of it has your legs kicking, your breath melting. 

He is not quiet either, letting you know exactly how much he adores this. Adores the feeling of your thighs wrapped tight around his head. Adores every little sound and reaction you have to give him. Adores the taste of you on his tongue. It was only meant for him.

It feels like he has been wishing to do this far longer than you would ever know. Consuming you whole from the inside out. Causing you to become addicted, to desire him just as much as he carnally craves you.

His nails dig into the flesh of your thighs as your hips begin to rock against his face, seeking out every ounce of pleasure that he is willing to give you. Your adorable mewls and whines grow louder, peaking every time he sucks on your clit. 

A coil has begun to form in your gut, feeling as though it could snap at any second. You wish you could see him, to look at his face and see the crazed gleam in his eyes. Observe the exact look on his face as he licks your cunt. 

You try to picture it. Try to imagine the way he would look up at you from between your legs. The dark umber his eyes would become, the gentle circles he would rub into your thigh as you finally make eye contact. 

Your walls clench around his tongue, sending a new waves of whines out of your mouth. He somehow moves faster, more precisely with every movement. Like he is able to hone in on the exact things that have your thighs quivering. 

His tongue moves up, takes your small, worn clit into his mouth. Alternating between sucking against it, flicking at it, and pressing against it firm with the flat of his tongue. 

Without warning, nor any reprise, one of his thick fingers is thrust into your wet heat. Filling you in a way you have never been able to do to yourself. Stretching you. And all of a sudden, you’re flying off the edge of a precipice.

“Prince Kim!” Your back arches off of the bed, head thrown back against the mattress as you let out a moan. Your hips jolt, cunt squeezing around his fingers, heels digging into the floor as you come undone before him. 

He works you through it with ease and grace, finger slowly thrusting in and out. Tongue firmly planted against your clit to ride you through your high. 

It would not be your last of the night. He must be gentle. 

Slowly, you relax against the bed, chest heaving from exertion. He pulls away from you, standing to full height before leaning over your shaking form. 

Your arousal coats his face, a sheen from his lips and chin evident against the soft yellow glow of the room. He looks down at you, concern and adoration written across his features. Though in his eyes, it appears that the beast has yet to be quelled. 

He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. You taste yourself against them. 

“You are delicious. I wish to eat you every night until I die.” He mumbles against your lips, his knee sliding between your legs. Muscle pressing against your swollen cunt. 

You try to flinch away, yet the hand on your hip keeps you in place. 

He will not have you running away. 

Not now. 

Your cheeks flush at his words, wide eyes looking up at him like he is all that matters. 

He is. 

He presses his knee further against your pussy while his lips trail down the column of your neck. Urging you towards the headboard with no words spoken until your head is against the pillows. 

Your arms wind their way around his neck, keeping him in place, “I-if we were married, I would let you.” You manage to speak, your voice shaky.

He only smiles in reply. Fingers digging deeper into your waist as if he is holding himself back.

“Then we shall call this practice for our wedding night.” He smiles, sitting back on his heels. 

Marriage, wedding night. You allow the thought to ghost through your mind, willing it to be reality. 

He smiles down at you, taking note in the way you seem to gleam at the idea. A small chuckle leaves his lips, you really are too cute for your own good. 

His voice is no more than a whisper, forcing you to stay enrapt, “You will let me, right?” He asks, eyes glancing down to where his pants strain against his hips, “I wish to make love to my future wife.”

Your mouth practically waters at the sight, his hard cock pressed taught against the expensive material. You swear there may even be a wet spot where his cum has leaked through. 

Your pussy clenches, wanting nothing more for him to find his way inside. For him to claim you for himself. Destroy you so no other man can have you in the same way.

You struggle against yourself for no more than a moment, but the way his hand reaches down, grips at his cock. Brushes his thumb over the surface has you moaning in want. 

“Please.” 

He smiles, the motion following swift. All at once his hands unbutton his pants, pushing the material down his thighs just enough for his cock to spring free. He groans at the feeling, thick length hitting his stomach. Pretty pre-cum dripping down the side.

Your eyes go wide. If you imagined him to be large before, seeing it now looked impossible. He is thick, long. Far too big to ever hope to fit inside of you. 

But the desperate groan in his voice, the hungry look in his eyes only has you spreading your legs. Wishing nothing more than for him to destroy you.

One hand wraps around the base as he moves closer, the other forcing the skirt of your dress as high as it will allow. He makes space for himself in between your thighs, slotting himself in. Ready to do what he has been waiting years for. 

Not yet.

He sees the hesitation in your eyes, the worry. So he leans down, planting a gentle, soothing kiss to your lips. One filled with years of time behind it. 

He knows he must be careful with you. Knows all of his patience will have been worth it when he is finally able to take your virginity. 

“Will it hurt?” You as quietly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close. You find comfort in him. Find a sense of safety within his eyes. 

He nods in response, “Only for a little while, I promise.” He mumbles against your lips, placing a soft kiss against them once more. 

He slowly rubs the fat head between your folds, coating himself in your arousal. Your hips buck slightly in response, and he can’t help but smirk. 

So sensitive. So ready for him. 

As much as he wants to be rough, he can’t. He can’t scare you away just yet. 

He looks into your eyes once more, “Ready?” He asks, giving you one final chance to back out. You only nod your head, pulling him close, hiding your face in his neck. 

His head catches on your opening with the final drag of his length through your lips. His hands practically shake in excitement, as he guides himself inside. Letting go only once the tip is buried within your walls. 

He feels your teeth sink into his coat, your body burning with the stretch of him. He only has the first inch inside, yet you think it is more than you could possibly take. 

A choked cry leaves your lips as he continues to slowly thrust inside. Your arms cling to him as tight as possible. Tears prick in the corner of your eyes as he fills you, forming your entire body just around him. Just around his cock. 

He pauses only once half of his cock is buried in your needy cunt. You feel his hand come up to caress your cheek, to bring you back down to reality from the pain you feel digging at your core. Trying to bring you some sense of comfort. 

You pull back from his shoulder to look him in the eyes, expecting to see them soft. Filled with concern. Though there is nothing of the sort there. 

Behind his bangs is only the look of pure insanity. 

Though he tries to be compassionate, he really does.

“Are you doing okay?” His voice is strangled, coming out in only desperate cracks. He shakes, wanting nothing more than to fuck himself inside. Fuck himself deeper and deeper, until your cunt is shaped for his cock alone.

But he holds restraint. Just enough.

The way he looks at you, the way he speaks has a wave of pleasure rushing through your  skin. Your walls clamp around him, tightening even more. 

He is falling apart before you, because of you. 

He has gone mad because of you.

The feeling only makes you want to urge him on. See just how far the prince can fall.

You nod your head, looking at him with all the affections in the world, “Don’t stop.” 

He groans at your words, mind losing itself as he snaps his hips forward, forcing his cock inside until his hips are firm against your own. Teeth digging into the fragile skin of your neck.

You cry out in pain, your walls squeezing around him in shock. Pain coursing through your entire system as you are filled to the brim. Walls stretched as wide as humanly possible. The head of cock so deep inside you swear you can feel it in your lungs. 

“Shit.” He groans, mouth falling open, “This pretty thing is wrapped around me so tight, lamb. So fucking tight I can’t think.” 

He slowly tries to move his hips, though you only shout in response. Your legs wrap around his back, doing their utmost to keep him in place.

“Hurts!” You whine, shaking your head quickly. 

Fucking hell. What is the point of a pussy as sweet as your own if he can’t use it properly?

His hand moves between your legs, growl of impatience slipping past his lips as his fingers find your clit. They work with urgency, with need. Rubbing tight circles into it, trying to get you to feel the same pleasure he does.

You whine, overstimulated. Shots fired in all directions leaving you messy and confused. 

With every circle, a mewl sounds from your throat. Slowly your legs behind him loosen, the pain from before mixing with pleasure to become something wonderful. Something that has you whimpering for him to not stop. 

“See?” He grunts, slowly slipping out of your heat until only the tip remains, “We were made for each other.” 

He forces his cock back inside, fucking you open just for him. Only ever for him. 

Your nails dig into his back, heels digging into the mattress as you moan for him. As your cunt becomes addicted to the feeling of him filling you so perfectly. Addicted to everything he has to offer.

He moves too fast, too hard for you to even hope to keep up with. Hips pistoning into you, forcing you to take everything he has to give and more. Forcing you to be the perfect little doll for him, give him all the pleasure he can want and more. White mixing with red around the base of his cock.

Your back arches off the mattress to try and get closer to him, to try and keep up with him in any hope of the sentiment. Hips trying their best to keep him as close and as deep as possible, knowing they crave one thing and one thing alone.

“Prince Kim!” You moan, yet he growls in response. A sharp slap to your thigh sounds throughout the room as his hips pause, fingers removing themselves from your clit. 

“That isn’t my name to you anymore.” His voice is low, menacing in your ear. One more poke of the bear and you will be punished. “Tae–Hyung.” 

He emphasises the words with a sharp thrust of his hips, one that brushes against the bundle inside of you. One that leaves you crying out for him. Clinging on to him. 

“Say it.” He grunts, animalistic and desperate. Yet you’re too lost in yourself to realise how debauched he’s become. Looking less and less like a man, more like a demon come to lay waste to your soul. 

That is close enough to the truth, anyway.

“Say it until it becomes the only word you know. Every question I ask, every time I fuck myself into this sweet little cunt. Your only reply should be my name.” He grabs your chin, forcing you to stare at him. 

Your fucked out little features as you bob your head in compliance.

“I-I” You swallow, trying to understand his words as he pounds away at your core, “I understand!” 

He smiles, almost proud of the work he has done today.

His hips only move impossibly faster, impossibly harder in a way that has that knot in your gut tightening once more. 

“We’ll start simple then. What is my name?” He asks, angling his hips to press against your sweet spot with ever slight movement. Breathe panting, his mind falling deeper and deeper into the thralls of your body. 

“P-Prin–” You stop yourself, a pinch coming down on your skin, “Taehyung!” 

He groans, almost coming undone as he hears your name fall from your  lips for the very first time. The pretty sound your voice makes with every letter. 

It could be the only thing he hears for the rest of his life.

“Who are you going to marry?” 

You whine, your head thrashing around slightly. He smiles. You must really enjoy the idea of that, huh?

“T-Taehyung!” You manage to stutter out again, feeling your release coming closer and closer as the seconds pass by. 

“Who is the man you have fallen for?” The answer to the question is easy, especially when he is fucking into you like you’re the only woman that matters. Nothing matters except for him. 

“Taehyung!” Your brain is too fuzzy to process anything else. Anything other than the way his cock fills you. Anything other than the one word he told you is your gospel. 

“Who is the boy that kissed you under the cherry tree?” You don’t even know anymore. 

Does any man exist beside Taehyung anyway? You doubt it.

“Taehyung!” He smiles into your neck. 

“Who was the boy that was going to have you killed? That saved your life?” His words don’t process through your ears, yet you know what you are meant to say anyway.

“Taehyung!” He groans, his hips stuttering, losing their pace ever so slightly. 

“Who do you belong to?” 

“Taehyung!” You whine, your thighs shaking. The coil so tight you think you may just die if it doesn’t come undone in this very moment. 

His breath is quiet, only a rough whisper in your ear, “Cum.” 

Just as your king commands, you fall apart around him. White dots in the corner of your eyes as you clamp down around him, your legs pulling him close. A cry of his name leaving your lungs as if it is the very air you breathe. 

You feel him paint the inside of your walls white, his hips stuttering– fucking himself as deep into you as he could possibly manage. If you had any sense left in your little head you would have told him to pull out, yet your brain is so high. Filled with pleasure that only Taehyung can provide. 

Waves of arousal crash around you as he slows his hips, ensuring that you ride out your orgasm to its fullest before pulling away. You wish he could stay buried inside of you, just like that. Yet you doubt that would be very wise. 

“Was that good for you, little lamb?” He asks, slowly helping you into a sit. You’re not sure how to properly answer– mouth feeling dry. Your head has not yet come crashing back down, though that is probably a good thing. 

Facing reality is too scary right now. Especially when Taehyung is so warm. So caring as he removes your dress. Slips your nightgown back over your soiled body. 

“Very…” You nod, unable to take your eyes off of him as he moves around the bed. Tucking himself back into his pants, removing his shirt and dress-coat. Placing them over the back of a chair. Neatly hanging the dress on a hook, taking care that it is not damaged in any way.

Your arms find themselves reaching out to him, trying to pull him closer to you. He smiles once he takes notice.

“Would you like me to stay the night?” It is clear he was already planning on it, but hearing the words make you smile oh-so bright. 

“Yes, please.” You nod quickly, eyes already feeling tired. You did not know how he had so much energy, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Right now he is meant to be in your bed, arms around you. In fact, you become annoyed that he isn’t already. 

“Alright.” He smiles, slipping next to your form. Wrapping his arms around you, pulling you as close as possible.

You feel so safe. So warm with him. So protected that you can’t stop yourself from falling asleep.

“Goodnight my lamb.”

The Kim Empire. 

His home, his family, his livelihood all wrapped up in those three little words.

Yet, the only thoughts that seem to brandish his mind since the young age of 15 are about you. 

When you first stumbled in front of him, carrying a tray of tea. Spilling it all over his shoes. That quick curse that left your lips before looking up at him. The wide, doelike vision you had once recognition had set in. One the realisation of error set into your bones.

He will never forget the way his heart began to race in that very moment. The way he felt a cloth of sickness overcome his whole body at the mere sight of you. Looking so serendipitous below him.

At first he thought it was hate, how silly he had been back then. Ah, the way he sent you to be killed was just funny to him now. He is grateful he talked to his mother before your execution date. Spilling his soul to her, detailing how he could not seem to remove you from his brain.

Ah, he was lucky he managed to get the letter to the executioner in time. What a pity that would be if he couldn’t. Then he wouldn’t have been able to lay next to you now. Wouldn’t be able to play with your hair, caress you like he pleases. 

It is truly too bad that was not his only trial on the road towards you. It was really a pity he had to send Jungkook away. Taehyung quite liked the kid. He was fun to play with and wouldn’t shy away from his games. 

But he just had to try and seduce you. Poor thing. You really were too innocent at the time. More than eager to kiss him for no reason. To give him even a peace of your heart that was meant for Taehyung alone.

He remembers as clear as day, the rage he felt as he watched your soft lips press against another mans. How terribly he wanted to go out and strike Jungkook with a sword. Of course he didn’t though, that would have scared you away. He would have hated that.

He thanks god every day he was really your first kiss, even if you didn’t know it. 

Patiences was the hardest battle of all, and he will admit, he has faltered a few times over the years. Kisses stolen while you sleep, a few of your belongings robbed to keep him satiated. Mayhaps a few trips to your room in the night. 

But who could blame him? He was a man in love. There was nothing that could stop him when he was so hungry for you. 

Ah, and then of course his father. He wanted to separate your love as well. A maid could never possibly be suited to be queen, blah blah. He doesn’t care. And at least that fight allowed him to hug you for the first time. 

God. You felt so perfect in his arms, then and now. You have always been meant for this. Meant for him.

If his father plans to keep standing in the way, he will simply have to remove him from the equation. His bonds to the man are as thick as water. He cares more for you than he possibly could anyone else.

You’ve belonged to him since you were born, anyway. If a maid becomes pregnant while working for the castle, her child becomes property of the state. Of the crown. Of him. 

It only makes sense that you are meant to be with him until death. It is the path lined for you. Your fate since birth. 

He knows it as his delicate fingers trace over the small patches of blood dirtying the sheets. Evidence of the hours before, of your virginity robbed. Of your promises to him.

You are bound to him by blood after all.

© all rights reserved to ctrlhope 2019-2024 ; do not copy, plagiarise, or translate.

[n1ght0f-nyx]

Orc! Husband who is a great warrior and leader, knows nothing but being used as a sword, a means to an end who's disillusioned and tired and accepts he's gonna die another pawn in another war, meeting a sweet human, a peasant from a local village who sees him as so much more. (The idea of some large war worn orc getting his scarred face caressed for the first time, being touched kindly for the first time having lived a lifetime of war)

i love this anon

warnings/tags- war mentions, i dont give the orc a name (i just call him orc/him) reader is gn (please dm me if their are any mistakes you see)

sorry this took so long for me to post

word count- 1667

The world was caught in a cycle of war. It was all you had ever known—villages burnt, homes lost, and people fleeing. The once fertile land surrounding your small village had been reduced to ash by decades of fighting. Your family had passed when you were young, victims of an earlier invasion. Now, you lived alone on the outskirts, tending to a humble garden, surviving day by day, hidden away from the larger conflicts that ravaged the region.

One day, word spread that another army was passing through. hims, they said. Great and terrible warriors, driven by bloodlust, used as weapons by those who wished to conquer the land. The mere mention of them sent shivers down your spine. You'd never seen an orc before, but the tales of their brutality haunted your nights.

But life had to go on. War was as much a part of your existence as the soil beneath your feet. You’d tended your small garden early in the morning, pulling weeds and harvesting what little grew in the rough soil, when you saw him.

He was massive—nearly seven feet tall with broad shoulders and green, scarred skin that glistened under the midday sun. He moved like a predator, every step deliberate and filled with the weight of someone who knew the battlefield like the back of his hand. His face was hard, worn from years of battle. His tusks jutted out from his lower jaw, and his eyes, dark and tired, scanned the landscape without emotion. His armor was dented and scratched, his war axe hanging loosely by his side.

You froze in place, heart pounding in your chest. He hadn’t noticed you yet, but his presence was enough to send a bolt of fear through your spine. Should you run? Hide? But as you hesitated, he turned his gaze in your direction, his sharp eyes locking with yours.

He didn’t move.

You held your breath, waiting for him to charge, to raise his axe, to shout in fury as the stories had always described. But he didn’t. He just stood there, staring at you. His posture was tense, but there was no hostility in his eyes. Just exhaustion, a deep weariness that went beyond the physical. 

Slowly, you stood, wiping your hands on your apron as you tried to gather your courage. “I-I’m not armed,” you stammered, not knowing what else to say. Your voice trembled, but you stood your ground, unable to look away from the giant in front of you.

He blinked slowly, as if processing your words. His brow furrowed, and for the first time, his lips parted to speak. His voice was gravelly, deep and tired. “I am… not here to fight.”

His words shocked you. Orcs were supposed to be mindless brutes, weren't they? Tools of war and destruction. But there was something in his voice—something that told you he was more than that. Something that hinted at a story far deeper than the legends you'd grown up with.

"I... I see," you replied, unsure of what to do with this information. "Why are you here, then?"

him seemed to consider this for a moment. His eyes drifted across the barren landscape, as if searching for an answer he didn’t have. Finally, he spoke again, his words slow and deliberate. “I was following orders. But the battle is done. And now, I am here.”

There was a sadness in his voice, a resignation that tugged at your heart. You hadn’t known kindness in a long time yourself, not since the war had taken everything from you. And here stood a creature—a warrior—who had clearly suffered more than most. It was a strange feeling, but you didn’t want to leave him there, lost in his own despair.

You took a tentative step forward. “Do you… do you need help?”

Heturned to face you fully now, eyes narrowing slightly. “Help?” he echoed, as if the word was foreign to him.

You nodded, swallowing your fear as best as you could. “Yes. I… I don’t know much about orcs, but… if you’re lost, or need food, I can offer you what little I have.”

He seemed taken aback. His dark eyes softened, just for a moment, and you could see the wariness in him begin to waver. “Why?” he asked, genuinely puzzled. “Why would you help me?”

You bit your lip, unsure of how to explain it yourself. "Because... you seem like you’ve had enough pain. And I know what that’s like."

He stared at you, unblinking, as if trying to decipher your words. Then, without a word, he sheathed his axe, the sound of metal scraping metal filling the silence between you.

"I am Orc," he said simply, as though it was the only name he had ever known.

You offered him a small, hesitant smile. "I'm... I'm Y/N. Come, if you're hungry, I have some food. It's not much, but it's something."

And so it began. He followed you back to your small home, his massive presence intimidating, yet strangely protective. Over the next few days, you learned more about him—not through stories, but through his actions. He wasn’t the mindless killer you’d feared. He was quiet, thoughtful even, though his words were few. He helped you in the garden, chopping wood with ease, fixing things around the house that had been neglected for too long. He never spoke of the war or the battles he had fought, but the scars on his body told enough of the story.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the sky in hues of pink and orange, you sat together by a small fire. The crackling of the flames was the only sound between you for a while, until you finally gathered the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at you for days.

“.. why did you stay?”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t answer. But then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he spoke. “I have known nothing but war. I was made for it. Used for it. There was always another battle, another fight. I thought that was all there was.”

You watched him carefully, noticing how his hands clenched and unclenched as he spoke.

“But when I met you…” His voice trailed off, as if he was unsure how to continue. “You did not look at me as a weapon. You did not fear me.”

Your heart ached for him. Slowly, you reached out, placing your hand gently on his arm. His skin was rough and scarred, but beneath it, you could feel the warmth of someone who had long been deprived of kindness. His entire body tensed under your touch, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he looked down at your hand, his brow furrowing in confusion, as if he couldn’t comprehend why someone would want to touch him in such a way. He had known nothing but pain and violence—his body bore the marks of countless battles, each one a reminder of what he was made to do.

Gently, you let your fingers brush against his face, tracing the deep scars that lined his jaw and cheek. His breath hitched, and for the first time, you saw something break in his eyes. He wasn’t just a warrior. He was someone who had been used and discarded, left to fight battles that weren’t his own.

"You’re more than just a weapon," you whispered softly, your voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "You deserve more than this life of war."

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as if it was the first time someone had ever reached out to him with kindness. The tension in his body melted away, and for a brief moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift from his shoulders.

“I… don’t know how to be anything else,” he admitted, his voice strained with vulnerability.

"Then let me show you," you said, your thumb gently brushing across his scarred cheek. "Let me show you that there's more to life than fighting."

In that moment, something shifted between you. The wall he had built around himself began to crumble, and him, the warrior who had known nothing but war, allowed himself to hope. Hope for something more, something better.

And in that hope, you both found solace.

---

As the days passed, he stayed. What had once been a strange and cautious arrangement became a companionship neither of you had expected. He helped you tend the garden, his strength turning the earth with ease. You taught him how to appreciate the small things—the sound of the wind in the trees, the feeling of warm sunlight on his skin, the simple joy of sharing a meal with someone who cared.

And slowly, he began to open up. He told you stories of his battles, not with pride, but with a sense of regret, of loss. He had been a tool, a weapon wielded by others, never given the chance to choose his own path.

But now, with you, he had found something different. Something worth fighting for—not with a sword, but with his heart.

You fell in love, slowly but surely. It was in the quiet moments, the shared glances, the way he protected you without ever needing to raise his weapon. And one night, as the stars twinkled overhead, you whispered the words that had been growing in your heart.

“I love you.”

He stared at you, his dark eyes filled with an emotion so raw, so powerful, that it nearly took your breath away. “I… love you too, Y/N.”

For the first time in his life, he let himself be vulnerable. He let himself feel something other than the cold steel of a weapon in his hand, something other than the rage of battle that had driven him for so long. He let himself feel love.

[for-your-modesty-dude]

As Long As You're There

A/N: AHHHHHHHH This is SO intimidating. My first ever fic posted. I don't feel like it's my best work, but if I don't post this now, I'm going to chicken out, and never write anything ever again. I hope you don't hate it, since I refuse to have my first piece beta read for fear of chickening out from that, too. So... no beta, we die like Jason. Feedback appreciated, but please be nice, LOL. I'm sensitive and very new to this. Love you all! - Hy

Warnings: Reader uses she/her pronouns, not beta read, tenses might jump around (i got nervy), generally nervous author, was supposed to be angst/fluff but I honestly don't know how to describe this one, folks

Synopsis: Eddie is sure Chrissy Cunningham is the girl for him. What happens when he is shown she's not?

It is undeniable. Eddie Munson thinks he likes Chrissy Cunningham - especially after that drug deal before the championship game back in high school. He doesn't really, though. Deep down, what it really boils down to is that he craves to be known and liked by the people who torment him. He sees kindness in her, and thinks that maybe - just maybe - if Chrissy can see past the flaws, even a girl like her could come to have feelings for a guy like him. After all, he's always been funny, charming, and larger-than-life. Sure, he talks a lot, he goes on emotional rants, and always has something to tease his friends about. And okay, maybe he's a little bossy. But at the end of the day, he's just a guy with a lot of affection to give and not enough friends to give it to. He tries, he does, to keep his temper tamed and attitude in check, but it's hard for someone with a past like his. He's a little angry at everything. He wants to get out of Hawkins, sure. But most of all, he just wishes he could feel normal. He likes being different, likes being who he is. But he doesn't like what comes with it. The jeering, the nasty looks, the fear - it's all so stupid. Because despite all of his attitude and temper and hardened look, Eddie Munson is a complete dork with a heart of gold. After all, the jocks and preps don't have a care in the world to take those who look like they've got no one and give them a place and a group to be a part of. No, only Eddie does that. He's done it since he was young, and even now, in his mid-twenties and having completed his Associate's degree to make his old man proud (the one who cared for him, not the one who left him), he still finds himself constantly looking out for people who may need a group. All the while, he keeps one eye open in search of Chrissy Cunningham - the girl who went off to college, got her fancy Bachelor's degree, and then, for some reason entirely unknown to Eddie, returned to her hometown to teach at the very same high school they'd both graduated from.

Eddie, meanwhile, had been stuck working at the auto shop since he'd graduated. Wayne had sat him down and insisted he needed to find real work, lest he get arrested for his extracurricular activities. The conversation, of course, had been prompted by Wayne finding a stash of pills his nephew had hidden (and then forgotten) in the bread box. He hadn't been happy, and had told Eddie he would not be going down for 'having them damn pills in my home.' Eddie had been a little embarrassed, but agreed to get a real job- so he'd chosen the shop. Luckily for him, it was in a perfect spot. It was on the street Chrissy Cunningham passed every morning on her drive to school, and every afternoon on her drive home. In the spring through the fall, she even walked most days - which gave Eddie the chance to say hello. He always tried to be as grease-free as he could, but some stains really just stuck, and he had a habit of wiping his face after changing the oil in his customers' cars... it didn't go well for him in the looks department. 

What Chrissy thought of it, no one was the wiser. None of Eddie's friends really interacted with her. Half the kids were still off to college, Dustin being the furthest and at an Ivy League, so no one could spy or find information. Sure, El was still around, choosing to go to the local college with Max, but they definitely didn't speak to Chrissy. Mike, Will, and Lucas had their own college woes. And Steve and Robin... well, they'd gotten through community college too, eventually, but they stayed within their comfort zone. They didn't make new friends, and they certainly didn't hang out with the likes of Chrissy Cunningham. Nancy and Jonathan had done what they'd always said they'd do - they took the settlement money from the government and went to NYU together, staying in New York City to work at the Times, as journalist and photographer, respectively.

All of these things meant that Eddie was on his own. Except, of course, for his best friend. One of the craziest things about community college to him was that he met people from other towns. Imagine his shock when he met a girl there from a small town not 45 minutes away from Hawkins, studying music history for fun. He was a lover of music, sure, but he was taking the class for the sake of his liberal arts degree. This girl? She was finishing her Bachelor's at the local university and taking courses for fun at the local college. He'd found her fascinating, to say the least. It helped that she was, like him, a little different from the rest. They had similar (though not quite identical) music tastes, and fashion that made their conservative towns uncomfortable. It sparked an instant bond. He'd invited this girl out to Hawkins once, and they'd never looked back. They'd become inseparable. She'd moved out to Hawkins, somehow a nicer town than her own, especially as its commerce grew, and helped Eddie out of his slump. When Wayne had given him that talk, it was Eddie's new best friend who'd helped him nail the interview at the auto shop. It was she who helped him find his new apartment (conveniently a 5 minute walk away from her own), and it was she who listened as he gushed about good ol' Chrissy Cunningham.

So here you were, once again seated at the register at your job, listening to Eddie go on about Chrissy's outfit that day on her walk home from teaching at the school. Did it bother you? Absolutely not. There was no reason for it to bother you. He was just a friend. Your best friend. But... then why did your stomach sink whenever he brought her up? Why did your chest feel tight? Why did it feel hard to smile when he laughed about how cute she was when she'd dropped her purse, or whatever book she was carrying? Why did you-

The ringing of the bell above the door pulled you out of your spiral, if for but a moment. You looked up, never more grateful in your life than to see the likes of Steve Harrington, who'd been introduced to you early on in your friendship with Eddie. He was a good friend of yours now, and often came to visit you at work, as with the others who’d stayed behind, when they had the time. Often, he wanted to talk about the latest gossip to someone who wasn't Robin (after all, he couldn't very well tell Robin half of the things he experienced, because she was usually there to experience it with him). He gave Eddie a good, friendly slap on the back as he approached the counter, leaning his forearms on the counter and leaning forward to greet you. Eddie made a face, annoyed at having been interrupted, but not annoyed enough to voice it.

"Hiya, Stevie," you greeted him with a smile, eyes communicating your relief at his arrival.

"Hey!” He responded brightly, but your relief was short-lived, as Steve took this opportunity to smile suspiciously sweetly at you, "so, any chance you want to take my shift later?"

Your eyes narrowed at him, "so that's why you're here? To ask for a favor? Even though you still owe me for the last shift I covered?" He had the decency to look at least a little apologetic about that, and nodded.

"I swear I'll pay you back for both. But... remember that girl who's been coming in every week to see me? I ran into her today while getting lunch, and she actually agreed to a date tonight. I swear, I'll more than make it up to you if you just please help me out today. I'll beg, do you want me to beg?"

You put your hands up in surrender, "woah, okay. No need to tarnish your dignity like that. I'm good, I'll stay. It's not like I have plans anyway, so one of us might as well get a date. God knows we could both use the romantic luck," you rest your chin on your hand with a huff, and he thanks you about seven times before running back out, leaving just you and Eddie once again (and, well, the three customers browsing the aisles of the store).

"So..." Eddie started, trying to keep the conversation from awkwardness. "No luck on the dating front, then?"

You couldn't help but to shoot him a dirty look, before you rolled your eyes and sighed. "No. There's no- anyone in this damn town. No one interested, and no one interesting. Maybe I need to expand my horizons and take a road trip out to Indie," you huffed. Eddie shrugged, turning to lean his back on the counter as he continued chatting with you, picking at his nails all the while.

"I think I might ask Chrissy to go out tomorrow night. Think she'll say yes?" For some reason, the fact that your misery led to him talking about his hopeful date sparked anger in you, but you didn't let it show. Did you think Chrissy would go out with him? Maybe. She was so sweet, you didn't think she had any reason to say no. She'd give him a shot, at least. But that was the trouble, wasn't it? If she gave him a shot, she'd see how wonderful he was. And then, maybe, you'd lose him for good. Was that something you were cool with? It wasn't like you were together. It wasn't like he'd ever looked at you the way he looks at her. It wasn't like you were in love with him... was it? 

That realization had you smacking your forehead lightly against the countertop behind the register, and Eddie turned around to look at you with a puzzled expression. "You good over there?"

You just managed a frustrated groan and the excuse, "just commiserating that everyone else has successful romantic lives and I'm stuck behind this register. Of course she'll say yes, she's too sweet to reject you, and you're awesome. Anyone who doesn't see my best friend's potential as a boyfriend is stupid and also rude." You finally looked up at him with what you hoped was a convincing smile. He couldn't help his own grin at that, feeling proud.

"It's totally settled, then. I'm going to ask her. What do you think she'll say to going to the new diner that opened up where Benny's old place was?" He asked, and you had to plaster on that fake smile again.

"Eddie, as long as you're there, she'll have a great time. Trust me." At least, it was true for you. If Eddie was present, you knew you’d have a great time. At least, most of the time. When he gushed about Chrissy, you had… less of a good time. But your compliment seemed to work, because he lit up like a christmas tree. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he gave you a beaming sort of smile, leaning over the counter to kiss your cheek. “I think I’m gonna go see if I can catch her on her lunch break. I’ll call you if it goes well!” He turned tail and ran, clearly excited. Luckily, he was gone so fast that he missed the way you deflated entirely. 

You were happy for him, and would continue to be if he managed to date Chrissy. But it didn’t change that you’d be jealous of her. A relationship - especially with Eddie - was time-consuming and all-encompassing. He would spend his free time with her, and you’d be left behind. It was natural, after all. What girl would want her boyfriend hanging out with another girl one on one? The thoughts plagued you, until a customer called into the shop asking about whether a certain book was in stock or not. After that, your day managed to go by a little quicker. 

You didn’t realize how late it had gotten until you were reading a book behind the counter and heard the bell ring as someone entered the store. Eddie slammed his hands down on the counter with a big grin, “guess what?” You peered up at him over your book and your heart sank, but you kept your expression clear for him.

“Hm… you’re a huge nerd?” You joked, and he made a face in response. 

“She said yes! She’s actually going on a date with me!” His eyes were bright and excited. “She said she’s cool with diner food, so… tomorrow night, I’ve got a hot date with Chrissy Cunningham. Will you help me choose what to wear?” And he just looked so hopeful, that you couldn’t possibly say no to him. So you agreed, and he sat around with you until the end of your shift. 

You wound up going back to his place that night, to help him in his search for an outfit. He even threw it in the wash so that he could smell good for his date. That night when you went to bed, you couldn’t help but to stare up at the ceiling and seethe for a few minutes, before letting sleep overtake you. Your dreams were the same as they always were - some shenanigans you got into with Eddie. Only tonight they held a different meaning, and when you woke up you were forced to reconcile with the information that was news even to you:

You were in love with your best friend. 

You went into your shift early that morning, stopping for coffee at your favorite place before starting your day at the store. You were able to distract yourself then, as Saturdays were particularly busy days for book-buyers. You hadn’t thought about your revelation since you’d had it. You had refused to acknowledge it, in fact. Eddie was your best friend. And he was going on a date with Chrissy Cunningham tonight. There was absolutely no point in thinking any more about potential feelings that may or may not exist. So you spent the day working, and maybe pouting. A couple of your friends stopped by to say hi throughout the day, but noticed your demeanor and ended up just letting you mope. 

Before his date, Eddie stopped by your job - and God, did it hurt. He looked so handsome. His curls were freshly washed and styled, his leather jacket hanging off of him like it was made for him, and his freshly washed jeans making him look more cleaned up than ever. When he opened up his jacket, he was proud to show off the button-up you’d helped him choose. ‘Dressy enough to be on a date, dressed down enough for jeans’ was what you’d told him. And his usual worn combat boots looked - almost good as new. When you asked about those, he was proud to say he’d spent his morning cleaning them with carpet cleaner and a toothbrush. Your heart ached that he’d never put that much effort in for you, not in that way. 

Before he could leave, you approached him to fix his collar and a stray curl, making sure he looked his absolute best. You refused to meet his eyes for your own sanity, and if he noticed, he didn’t comment. He just let you work your magic, and when you finally stepped back, you gave him your most convincing smile, and wished him well. “Call me if you need anything at all. I’ll be home tonight, and tomorrow morning. I want to hear all about it,” lie. “She’s going to have a great time, not a doubt in my mind,” truth. “I’ll be rooting for you,” lie. “You’re gonna do great,” truth.

He smiled proudly, and thanked you before giving you a big hug. The smell of his good cologne (only brought out for funerals and weddings) threw you for a loop, and nearly strangled you, but you managed to squeeze him back. When he ran out with a quick “love ya!” you just fell back into your seat behind the counter for the last hour of your shift. 

If you had any idea what was going on in Eddie’s head…

He’d only stopped by because he figured he should share in this exciting moment with his best friend. But something about your excitement had him feeling a little odd about the whole thing. And then you’d come up to him to help him straighten his shirt and fix his hair and you just wouldn’t look at him. He couldn’t understand why, but honestly, he was too focused on the fact that you were wearing your favorite perfume that day. He could tell you’d washed your hair that morning, too, because he caught a whiff of the shampoo you so loved. So when you didn’t look up and meet his eyes, he had to push down a weird feeling of disappointment. But he’d hugged you goodbye and you’d wished him luck, and that was that. 

Or so he’d thought. He showed up to Chrissy’s to pick her up, a cute little townhouse near the center of town, and did all the gentlemanly things he was supposed to do. He’d brought her a small bouquet of daisies, and walked her to the car and opened her door for her - it was all pretty textbook. She smiled and laughed during the drive, and it had Eddie feeling like he was already on the right track with this girl. 

Things did take a turn, though, when they actually got to talking after they’d ordered their meals. Because it would seem that Chrissy knew him better than he ever imagined she would. 

“Can I ask you a question?” She’d asked him, hands folded in front of her as she leaned close in curiosity. 

“Shoot,” he’d leaned back against the back of his seat, smiling. 

“I know you mentioned yesterday that you’ve had a crush on me for years, and I found that so sweet of you, Eddie, but… aren’t you in love with - well… you know…” She didn’t say your name, but only because it felt a little major to bring up your name if he hadn’t considered it. But he blinked at her, puzzled, and she realized she had no choice. So she finished her question with your name, which made Eddie’s eyes go comically large. 

“Sorry, what?” Was all he managed. His eyebrows slowly rose to his hairline, when she gave him a shy smile. 

“Eddie… you hear yourself when you talk about her, don’t you?” She asked, a soft giggle in her voice. “I’m flattered, I am. And I think you’re really amazing, and would love to date you. But only if I thought you actually liked me. I’m not accusing you of lying, I just don’t think you realize just how you sound.”

Eddie was not a man often brought to speechlessness, but Chrissy’s question stopped him dead in his tracks. You? That wasn’t possible. You were his best friend. Comfortably listed in the “friends” category in his brain… or were you? Chrissy, sweet Chrissy, pointed behind him to the entrance, and said “oh, I guess her shift must have ended! She’s here now with someone!”

The speed at which Eddie whipped around to look was nearly breakneck. When he saw you were, in fact, not there, he turned back to Chrissy with a blush and an embarrassed look in his eye. She just gave him that warm smile and sweet giggle, “I’m sorry, Eddie. But that’s not something someone does for just a best friend. Have you ever thought about that?”

He took a moment to rewind and think about his conversation on the drive here. Admittedly, he’d told Chrissy a lot of stories about you. He started by telling her all about how he would gush to you about his crush on her, but then devolved into just telling her about the times you’d hung out, and the fun things you’d done together. When she’d mentioned a restaurant or fun activity, he’d talk about a time you’d discussed the same with him. So, okay, maybe he talked about you a lot. And sure, he had thought about how much he preferred your perfume over Chrissy’s when he’d picked her up at her place, but that didn’t mean anything, did it?

And then he thought about how he’d felt so off when you hadn’t met his eyes when fixing his date night outfit. He’d never voice that one out loud to Chrissy, but he’d wanted you to look up at him and smile, and see how handsome he looked. He’d tried hard. The more he thought about it, the bigger hole he felt he dug himself. 

He blinked at her and groaned, burying his face in his hands in shame. “Shit. I think I’m in love with my best friend.” 

Chrissy, to her credit, took it so sweetly. She giggled and just encouraged him, telling him he should tell you and get it out in the open. Eddie, however, was so afraid. Afraid he would be wrong about the whole thing and you wouldn’t be interested in him in return. It didn’t matter, in the end, because his date (and now friend) was rather persuasive, and convinced him to do it as soon as he saw you next. And before he knew it, he was paying for their date, and driving her home. He liked being friends with Chrissy, he realized, and didn’t exactly desire any more than that. He’d always wanted her to like him, and now he knew she did - in a more important way than romance. She liked him for who he was, and wanted him to be happy. She wanted to be his friend. 

As soon as he dropped her off, she gave him a warning look and told him not to stray from his plan. It would work, and you’d be together in no time. He just thanked her and got back into his truck, driving home. His autopilot must have broken, however, because next thing he knew, he was pulling into the parking lot at your apartment. He sat there and stared at your door, the automatic light coming on and making his heart race. When he looked up, he saw the lights in your apartment were still on, signalling that you hadn’t quite gone to bed just yet. With his last hope of an excuse entirely extinguished, he got out of his car and stood at your front door for a few moments. Luckily, since you lived on the second floor, he got a minute to breathe before you saw him lingering at the door and freaked out about a stranger. So he took a chance, breathed, and did his special knock. 

You had been wallowing in self-pity all night, watching your favorite romcoms and snacking on your favorite chips and dip combo. Anything to try and forget about the realization that you were in love with Eddie. It was the worst possible timing, really. After all, he’d been hopelessly single for so long. You had to realize the day he wanted to ask his longtime crush on a date? You spent a long while beating yourself up about that, but eventually accepted your fate and tried to think about literally anything else. Hence, movies and snacks. You’d even tried to pick up a book at one point, but you realized that even that had a romantic plot, and ended up throwing it onto your bed and returning to the movies. At least romantic comedies had comedy. You’d even cried during one of your all-time favorites, which was infuriating - you could hear Eddie’s teasing voice in your head about how crying over a dumb boy was so not metal. If only he knew. So naturally, when his signature knock came from your front door, you were puzzled. 

You descended the stairs to the front door with your brows drawn together in confusion, opening the door in your pjs - soft pajama pants and a hellfire t-shirt you’d stolen from Eddie years prior. He was standing there, hands stuffed in his pockets as he stared at the apartment number next to your door. “Uh… hi? Shouldn’t you be on your date right now?” You asked, but opened the door further for him to enter. He shrugged and toed his boots off before heading up the stairs, leaving you to lock up behind him and follow - more confused than ever. “Eddie, is everything okay?”

He fell onto your couch and pulled the bowl of chips onto his lap, putting a chip in his mouth just to avoid answering the question. But you were too stubborn, standing in front of him with your hands on your hips. “Edward. What the hell?” He finally looked up at you with his big brown eyes at that, and had the decency to look a little shy. 

“‘M not in love with Chris,” he mumbled with his mouth full. You didn’t quite understand (or, you thought you didn’t) so you made a face at him, and he waited until his mouth was no longer full to repeat “I’m not in love with Chris. She’s- great. But I’m not in love with her.”

Your self-pity melted away for a moment at his ridiculousness, “Eddie, you’ve been on one date. You’re not necessarily going to fall in love over burgers, dude.” You looked at him like he was only slightly insane, which he appreciated. 

“Yeah, no, I know that,” he tugged at a strand of his hair. “I know that. I just… I am in love, y’know? Just- not with Chrissy.” And if that doesn’t confuse you even further. Your chest tightens for a moment, but he’s not making any sense, and you really just need him to stop being so cryptic. 

“Honestly, Ed, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can you please just tell me what’s going on?” You sat next to him, facing him with your legs criss-cross. He refused to turn and face you, just setting the bowl of chips on the coffee table and staring down at his lap, wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. You stared at him expectantly for a moment, and when he stayed quiet, you lightly punched his arm. “Speak, nerd.”

“Hey,” he finally pouted at you, rubbing his arm as if you’d punched him much harder. “I dunno! Chrissy had some enlightening shit to tell me. Apparently she knows me better than I thought she did. Actually, better than I know me. Which was super weird, by the way. I didn’t like feeling so exposed. But uh… She just opened my eyes. Turns out, I’ve been in love with someone for, like, a stupid long time.” When he stopped there, you almost punched him again, for leaving you on such a cliffhanger. He put his hands up in defense when he noticed. “Hey! Okay! I’m talking!”

He took a deep breath, “so, you won’t totally hate me for this, will you?” He felt he had to ask, and you made another face at him. 

“I mean, depends on who you’re in love with. If you have really bad taste, then yeah. I might,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood a bit. He gave you his most unimpressed stare and rolled his eyes, before tugging at his hair again, a nervous habit you found annoyingly cute. 

“Uh- well. You, actually,” he said simply, with a nervous, almost self-deprecating chuckle. You blinked at him for a moment. 

“I’m sorry, me? Me what?” You asked, the possibility simply not computing in your mind. 

“You. I’m in love with you. Apparently been in love with you for awhile. Just didn’t notice because my head was too far up my own ass,” he said, finally meeting your eyes again, this time looking more sincere than he had in awhile. But you were skeptical, and afraid of having your feelings hurt. 

“Eddie, where is this coming from? You’ve always had feelings for Chrissy. It was like, a fact, at this point. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Eddie Munson has a crush on Chrissy Cunningham. You don’t like me, you never have. Not- like that,” you told him, a little insecure. He didn’t really seem to have an answer except to lean over and kiss your cheek, his own cheeks bright red. Your eyes went wide and you stared at him for a moment, fighting your own thoughts. You stared at each other, equally wide-eyed, until you finally blurted out “I’m in love with you too. And it’s so weird because I never knew I felt this way until yesterday, and I finally understood why it irked me so much when you wouldn’t shut up about Chrissy.”

The admission caught you both off guard, and neither of you really knew how to respond. Eddie let out a curse under his breath before leaning in and capturing your lips in a hasty kiss, just quick and short but enough to have both of your hearts racing. You let out a squeak, and just stared at him again, before throwing your arms around him to hug him close, enjoying the smell of his shampoo, and his good cologne. You had no idea where this would take you, or if it would last. All you knew was that as long as he was there, you’d be just fine. 

As it turned out, Eddie Munson does not like Chrissy Cunningham. At least, not in the way he thought he did. He liked her as a friend, sure. But his real feelings could be found around the one person who’d been by his side since his first day of his music history class at the local community college. The girl whose nerd matched his, the girl who never needed him to be anything except what he was. A girl to whom he wasn’t too much, or not enough. Instead, he was just enough. Just loud enough, just obnoxious enough, just bossy enough, just funny enough, just clingy enough, just affectionate enough. And now that he had her for real, he would never ever let go.

[hopesaheartache]

I never thought I'd be creating an new account and being active on Tumblr again after years just to talk about a new THG book, but I've shipped Hayffie for more than half my life and people on Twitter are really getting on my nerves, so I needed to vent with people I know will understand.

I have some issues with certain narrative choices in SOTR, but I expected that since I’m not a big fan of prequels, especially ones released long after the original story. I think it's very tough to write a prequel more than a decade later without some things feeling like retcons. I had the same issue with TBOSAS, but I’m good at just ignoring that kind of thing. The original trilogy will always exist, so it doesn’t really affect me that much.

But I cannot stand seeing so many people saying the new book makes Hayffie impossible and acting like they're smarter because they don't ship it.

We've always known that Haymitch had a girlfriend when he was a teenager. It's not new information.

Haymitch and Lenore Dove had a sweet, young, idealized love - that ended up being an eternal what if and could it be if Haymitch had never gone to the Games, if Lenore Dove hadn’t died, if they had been born in a better world.

But Haymitch did go to the Games. Lenore Dove did die. They were born into a terrible world.

So why would it be so wrong for him to find love again? To allow himself to be happy? To have a relationship that works within the reality he actually lives in, instead of the one that could have been?

The reason I was drawn to Hayffie years ago and the reason most of my main ships are between mature characters instead of teenagers is because I’ve always found it more interesting when two people, in later stages of life, with scars, baggage, and different experiences, still manage to learn from each other, discover new things, and allow themselves to grow.

It’s so tragic to think of someone’s life as over when they were only 16. And Haymitch’s life is already tragic enough.

What SOTR establishes as canon shows that, despite all odds, Effie and Haymitch are gentle with each other from the very beginning. Despite all the propaganda and life in the Capitol, Effie is introduced as someone involved with the Games because of the love she has for her sister, as a kind person, as someone who knows Haymitch won’t hurt her.

Despite their social and ideological differences - and all the friction between them - they spend two decades keeping each other company in a horrible environment designed to discourage any kind of bond. They still work together as a team.

Post-Mockingjay, when they have to carry the weight of all their pain, torture, loss, and war, why is it so hard to imagine that they would help each other figure out who they are in a world without the Games? That they would help each other process the pain and learn to live with some peace and hope for the days ahead? That two people who know each other so well would slowly build their slow-burn romance, allowing themselves to love and be loved?

And none of this erases the impact or the feelings Haymitch had for Lenore Dove. It's just different. Simple as that.

He may believe that geese mate for life, but in reality, he hasn’t had the same life in a very long time. And in this new life, it’s Effie who walks beside him.

[sacr1ficialang3l]

walking to a house, not a home. (but my home is you)✧.*

SAM WINCHESTER X READER

SUMMARY: She's so used to hiding her pain, but Sam and Dean show her that she doesn't have to anymore. 2.0k

WARNINGS: mentions of self-harm (scratching). allusions to an unhealthy home environment. a little angsty but with a fluffy end. fem!reader.

NOTES: I had an awful day yesterday and I wrote this with puffy eyes and a headache at three am. pretty shorter than what I usually write but anyways. English is not my first language! Enjoy<3

Your body shakes with every sob that vibrates through your chest as you curl up in a little ball, laying down on the floor in the corner of the empty motel room.

Even though your chest burns like it is being torn apart and your throat aches with all the pain you are swallowing down, not a sound leaves your mouth. You had learned from a very young age how to cry in silence. You had perfected the right way to breathe —first through your nose and then through your mouth so there's no sniffing— the correct way to reduce your sobs and sometimes wails to only a throbbing rumble down on your ribs, not even letting them reach your throat. You had found out that if you dug your nails into your thighs, even dragging them down your leg until you drew blood, it kept even the worst of noises away.

And old habits die hard, you guess. Because now, years after you had left the home house you grew up in, when you could cry and weep and scream all you wanted and no one would say anything, your mouth stays sealed tightly. 

You tremble like a leaf in the wind, arms pathetically wrapped around your knees like the grip will somehow keep you together. When the pressure on your chest starts to feel a little too strong, like someone has a hand around your heart and is trying to rip it out, your fingernails finally puncture the tender skin of your thighs. 

The pain offers a momentary but also addictive relief. Your throat untightens a bit and your brain shuts up for a second. It won’t last long and it isn’t healthy, but it is the only way you know how to not lose yourself to the voices in your head. 

You are so distracted by the pain, both physical and emotional, that you don’t notice when Sam and Dean walk through the door. You had assumed they would spend all night at the bar you left them in, where you gave them a plastic smile you had also perfected long ago and claimed to be too sleepy to stay up with them, making sure to keep your voice steady, your eyes bright and your fists unclenched. It had always worked with everyone else.

You should have known by now that the Winchester brothers weren’t everyone else.

You nearly break Sam’s nose when he suddenly kneels in front of you and takes one of your hands off your thigh. He dodges the punch with the reflexes of someone who’s been in fight-or-flight mode since the moment he became aware of his existence, but his expression remains gentle.

You try to wipe away your tears with your other hand, but Sam quickly grabs it too. There is blood under your nails this time, and Sam studies it for a moment. You open your mouth, trying to justify yourself. Anything, say anything. You watched a sad movie, you hit your toe really hard against the leg of the bed, it was that time of the month. Anything but reality.

Before you can even start to mumble and stumble through half-assed excuses, Sam looks into your eyes with the softest look you had ever seen on him.

“You can actually cry now, you know?” You look at him with wide, startled eyes.

“Yeah, we promise not to make too much fun of you.” Dean adds, his always present teasing tone still there but lighter. You look up at him where he was sitting on the bed, and his expression changes to a more serious one when he takes in how red your cheeks are from rubbing your face and how raw your lips are from biting them. “You are safe now.”

“You can let go.” Sam leans in a little closer, just enough so that it makes your breath hitch, your throat contracting and your eyes glossing over again. “You don’t have to keep quiet here. We got you, so let go of all of it. Just let go.”

You try shaking your head. No, your pain has always been such an imposition. You are a reverse Midas, every single thing you touch becomes sick with sadness. Everything around you turns gray and burns down into ashes when you let go. You couldn’t let that happen to this. To them. To your boys.

They are the life ring you had found when you were so close to drowning, and now you are about to destroy them too.

“I don’t—” 

But it is too late. The brothers’ words echo in your head and your face scrunches up against your will. The first sound that leaves your mouth is choked and rusty, and then you can’t stop. You bury your face back in between your knees, but now each of your sobs resound through the small room. You don’t even recognize the noises that rip themselves out of your throat. Every single whimper, hiccup, and gasp escapes you violently, leaving a scorching sensation inside. It’s as if they’d been subjugated for so long, they were desperate to make their way to freedom.

The boys don’t say anything else, just stay there in silence. You thought that crying in front of them would make you feel even more pathetic than you already do, but it actually doesn’t. It is liberating, letting it all out while they are with you. It makes you feel less alone, less scared. Like you won’t be consumed by the ghosts of your past, because you have someone to pull you out. You are showing them the ugliest, most disgusting part of you, and they still stay. 

You try to pull your hands back from Sam’s grasp. You didn’t even feel like hurting yourself anymore, but you need the reassurance that even if you did, he wouldn’t let you. And he doesn’t. He keeps his hands wrapped around yours tightly, not letting you move even an inch. 

“No, pretty girl. Let’s not do that.”

The nickname only makes you sob harder. You are sure you look anything but pretty right now, face wet and dirty with mascara running down your cheeks, eyes red and puffy, snot smeared on the edge of your shirt. But Sam doesn’t seem to care, he still calls you pretty. When the shaky gasps get a little quicker, a little more consecutive, a little too close to hyperventilating, Sam moves again. 

But this time he pulls you against his chest. You are so surprised that you stop bawling for a second. He drags you into his lap and moves until his back is resting against the wall you were previously leaning against. He wraps a hand around the back of your neck and guides your face to his neck, not minding the fact that you will inevitably soak his shirt with tears. His other hand remains around both your wrists, solid and safe.

“Breath with me, baby. Follow my lead.”

Baby, your mind registers between all of the pain. He called you baby. 

There are more pressing matters at the moment, like the fact that your breath is getting more and more ragged, so you decide to deal with that later.

You press your chest to Sam’s, focusing on the rise and fall of his exaggeratedly deep breaths. You try to inhale when he does, exhale when he does. Your attention on the way your chests move in unison, the touch of his fingertips on your nape, the way his voice sounded when he called you pretty and baby. 

You don’t know for how long you two stay like that, but by the time you drag your face away from the crook of Sam’s neck and force yourself to face him, your breath is back to normal and you have stopped crying.

You’re still sniffling when you meet his eyes, shivers running down your spine from the exhaustion and the slight breeze coming from the open door. But at least you’re not tearing up anymore.

Apparently, Dean left at some point to buy some food, and he is just now coming back. That means that you had spent a long time sitting there on Sam’s lap. You are sure that will haunt you once you can actually process what it means. But right now, you are just exhausted and ready to eat something before going to sleep and forgetting this ever happened.

But Sam insisted on cleaning up the scratches on your thighs, even though most of them aren’t even deep enough to actually need cleaning. There are three angry red lines with dried blood around them in one of your legs, though, so you begrudgingly let Sam play nurse.

It is only once you are sitting on one of the beds, with a blanket around your shuddering frame and a whole box of four chocolate donuts with sprinkles on your lap —“You need to replenish your sugar after all that, princess. Eat.”— that the shame finally washes over you. 

You bite down on your lip harshly, already dreading the whole situation. You want to apologize, convince them to forget the whole thing even happened, maybe cry some more. You prepare to hide, run away and bury yourself somewhere dark until you feel you’ve pulled yourself together again. But Sam and Dean, always ready to save the day, come to the rescue before your brain can get too cruel. 

Dean clicks his tongue and shakes his head, while Sam, who had already finished patching up your barely-there wounds and had taken a seat next to you on the bed, uses his thumb to free your lower lip from your teeth. 

They don’t say anything, don’t try to contradict the voices in your head that they know are louder than anything they could say. Instead, Sam pulls you into his arms on the small motel bed and Dean puts on some cheesy rom-com on the tv. Both brothers make silly jokes throughout the film, loudly criticizing the characters and groaning at every cliché. They don’t force you to talk, but they manage to keep the voices at bay. 

By the second donut eaten and the fourth time the main characters in the movie almost kiss before being interrupted, you start giggling along. Sam’s arms are firmly wrapped around you, keeping you pressed to his chest long after you stop trembling. You turn slightly and offer him a bite of the donut, both of you laughing when Dean starts grumbling as a musical number begins.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me, man.”

You sigh in contentment, snuggling closer to the comforting warmth of Sam’s body while you start to defend the honor of musicals. Sam presses a kiss to the top of your head then, and it is a lot more intimate than what you usually do. Physical displays of affection between you two usually don’t go further than a slap on the shoulder after a teasing joke or patching each other up after a hunt. 

You don’t question it, though. You had craved this for years, even before you had met the brothers. You think your body had been yearning for Sam Winchester from the moment you were put on this earth, an ache rooted deep in your bones that only his touch could soothe. So you don’t move, don’t ask, you just let it happen.

Because maybe you would feel ashamed again tomorrow, and maybe you would wake up with the worst headache the next morning and jeopardize the case, and maybe you weren’t sure what all of this meant for your relationship with Sam, if you were overthinking things or if your feelings were actually reciprocated. 

But there is one thing you do know: you had finally broken free from all your restraints. You’ve released the beast you’d kept caged inside for so long, and the Winchesters had welcomed it with open arms. You won’t scare them away, your unrelenting sadness won’t break them, they are too strong for that. You could let go now, you don’t have to hide your pain anymore, because they will be there to catch you.

Here, cradled in Sam’s arms as you bicker with Dean, you are finally home.

NOTES: thank you taylor swift for writing the bridge of dear reader and ruining my life.

TAGS: @littlesoulshine @mostlymarvelgirl @pink-ghost666 @h8aaz @otteropera @xoswiftieprincess @tinas111 <3

If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!

[ldydeath]

Feels Like I’ll Die Without You | Kwon Ji-yong (G-Dragon)

Summary: You run into your ex at a party. Neither of you are over each other, despite you being in a relationship with someone else. Will temptation get the best of you? Warnings: language, mentions of cheating, make out scene.  Word Count: 1.3k Author's Note: this is kind of a part two to I Used to Believe In You. You don’t really need to read it to understand this installment but if you want the background on why they broke up, you can read it here. Considering turning this into a series, let me know if you want a third part of this! 

It has been years since you’d been back in Korea. You didn’t even want to think about how long it had been or the way your last trip had ended. Something you’d thought would last a lifetime had come crumbling down in seconds. Looking back over the last twelve years you were glad it had ended. As much as you’d love Jiyong as a young twenty something in the industry it wasn’t meant to be. 

You hated how your brain instantly went to him the second your feet touched solid ground after your flight. You had a boyfriend and it has been twelve years since you’d seen Jiyong in person. Sure, he’d pop up on tv from time to time or social media but you hadn’t thought of him, talked to him, seen him since he’d flown to your house after you’d broken up all those years ago. 

For whatever reason, you were being forced to go to an event that you knew he’d be at, because of course he would be. Luxury, fashion, expensive things were his thing now. Long gone was the blonde edgy boy you’d met when you were first starting out. Now he was softer, more into fashion than you’d ever remembered him being. But your relationship had never really been that deep and for all you knew this was who he’d been from the start. 

“No shit.” You heard a familiar voice and turned, coming face to face with Youngbae and grinned. 

“Hi YB.” You pulled him into a hug, instant relief washing over you. 

An unfortunate circumstance of your fall out with Jiyong was the no contact you’d had with his three best friends post breakup. They’d been your friends too but as his closest friends and bandmates it was just easier for you to fade out of their lives.   

“You look great. How have you been?” 

“Good. Stable. I heard you got married and have a kid. That’s so exciting, I’m so happy for you!” 

“Thanks! I gotta admit I always thought you and Jiyong would be first to get married.” 

“Yeah, well…that didn’t happen.” The all too familiar voice of Jiyong rang out and you swallowed, your smile faltering. “Hello.” 

You turned from the safety of Youngbae, coming face to face with Jiyong. He was still just as handsome as ever and damn it if your heart didn’t speed up at the site of him. He looked handsome, his suiting fitting his body like a glove. The hat was a little goofy but damn it if he didn’t rock it. 

“Hi.” You squeaked out. Cursing yourself in your head. Jiyong smirked before raising a brow at Youngbae. 

“Excuse us for a minute?” Youngbae waved goodbye to you before walking away. “You look….amazing.” 

That was not what he wanted to say. You looked hot, but he wasn’t going to come straight out and say how down bad he still was for you. How no woman he’d been with since you could ever compare to you. You’d have all the power and he couldn’t have that. 

“Thanks. So do you.” You could feel the awkward tension rising in the room. 

“You wanna grab a drink and talk?” The way he said talk made your weak. That used to be code for doing anything but talking. 

“I have a boyfriend.” You blurted out and Jiyong closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath. 

Of course you had a boyfriend. He should’ve known you wouldn’t stay single. You were one of the most talented and amazing people he’d ever met, you wouldn’t have just stayed single the last twelve years. 

“Ok? So a drink and we actually just talk.” You knew you shouldn’t, everything in your body telling you not to go with him. 

Deciding to ignore the warnings, you nodded your head and followed him. His hand reached out to grab yours and you knew you should pull away. Instead you linked your fingers with his and allowed him to lead you away from the crowd. He grabbed two drinks off a tray, handing you one so he wouldn’t have to let you go and led you outside. 

There was nobody out here, thanks to the chilly Korean night. You took a sip of your drink, your hand staying firmly in Jiyong’s hand. He looked down at your entwined fingers and smirked again before giving your hand a squeeze. He wasn’t going to let go first. Neither were you. Why was it so easy to fall into these old habits with him? 

Jiyong let go of your hand, moving to stand directly in front of you, his drink abandoned. Your heart sped up and you could feel the butterflies in your stomach at the closeness. You looked up, locking eyes with him and he moved his free hand to cup your cheek. You should back out of his touch, run inside, find security with the other attendees. He wouldn’t touch you like this in front of people. Instead, you leaned into his touch and there was that damn smirk again. 

“What?” 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” His eyes trailed from your eyes to your lips as he spoke.

You didn’t even question it, your body reacting to him whether you liked it or not and his lips were on yours. It was too much, too much passion, too wrong but you couldn’t help yourself when it came to Jiyong. You would probably always want him and that was why you’d stayed away for as long as you had. He wasn’t good for you, this wasn’t good for you. 

“Jiyong.” You panted, pulling away from him. “I can’t. I have a boyfriend.”  Jiyong shrugged at your words, leaning in closer to you. 

“He doesn’t have to know.” His lips covering yours again. 

It was almost too easy, getting lost in this moment with him. Hands roaming each other's bodies as the kiss took a desperate turn. His jacket was off, tie untied as he lifted you up on the table, your legs opening slightly so he could stand between them, your legs wrapping around him. His hands roaming up your legs as he broke the kiss. His lips latched onto your neck as he trailed kisses down your throat, your chest. Your eyes popped open as if coming to your senses as his lips brushed your breast. 

“Jiyong, I can’t.” You pushed him away slightly, jumping down off the table and smoothing out your dress.  “I’m not this person anymore.” 

Jiyong took a respectable step back and straightened his tie before sliding his jacket back on. As much as he still wanted you, he wasn’t going to do anything you didn’t want to do. If that meant he had to wait another twelve years for a stolen moment with you, fine. 

“I’m sorry. I got carried away.” 

“It’s fine. I did too.” You let out a sigh. You could’ve walked away at any moment, this wasn’t all on Jiyong. “I think I should go though.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I have to go present this watch anyway.” He took his hat off running his hand through his messy green hair and offered you a weak smile. “It was really good to see you.” 

“You too.” You nodded before walking away. 

Jiyong stood there, watching you walk away and swallowed the lump on his throat. He’d watched you walk away from him too many times in his life and somehow this one hurt the most. He wasn’t the same cocky asshole you’d met all those years ago but of course he hadn’t shown you any proof of that. The second he’d seen you all logical thoughts had gone right out the window. 

It hurt all the same though, having you reject him all over again. At this rate he figured he’d never be over you. It had been twelve years and he folded the second he’d seen you. Maybe one day he’d convince you that you were meant to be. But for now he’d just have to find a way to be ok with this moment. He smoothed his suit out one last time before heading inside, making sure to avoid you the rest of the evening.

tag list: @wcnderlnds @alosss-blog @sooyasya @dprvivi @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @loveesiren @tulentiy

[sagesskies]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʙᴜʟʟʏ

✒ ᴀ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀꜱʜɪᴘ

☏ - ɪꜱ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɢᴜʏ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴀ ʙᴜʟʟʏ??? ʟᴍᴀᴏ… ɪ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴇ'ꜱ ᴀɴ ᴀꜱꜱʜᴏʟᴇ……. ɪ'ʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴇɴꜱᴀᴛᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ɢᴀʙᴇ ɢᴜʏꜱ ꜰʀꜰʀ

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ɴᴏɴᴄᴏɴ, ʜᴏᴍᴏᴘʜᴏʙɪᴀ, ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴘᴏꜱꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴠᴇ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴄʏ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ꜱᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ (ʙʏ ᴀ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ), ʙᴜʟʟʏɪɴɢ, ᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜱʟᴜʀꜱ, ʀᴀᴘʜᴀᴇʟ ᴄᴀᴍᴇᴏ, ᴀʟꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴏꜰʀᴇᴀᴅ, ꜰᴇᴇʟ ꜰʀᴇᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱʟɪᴅᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀꜱᴋʙᴏx ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴍɪꜱᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ

Yandere Best Friend who was the king of the school, ruling over his subjects with an iron fist. They kissed his feet, and in turn he'd shove them into lockers when he felt grouchy and have them fetch his cigarettes so the teachers wouldn't know they were his. 

Yandere Best Friend who was once your best friend. Your ride or die who would have your back even when he acted like a complete ass sometimes. Sure he was wicked and cruel, but never to you. 

Yandere Best Friend who always kept you close, closer than Harry, closer than Hannah. He would pick you up from your house, he would eat at your table and welcome you to eat at his own. You would spend nights in his room, never on his bed, of course. But he'd take the initiative and set out an inflatable mattress for you, which was more than he'd ever do for the other guys who he'd leave to sleep on the cold hard floor.

Yandere Best Friend who you absolutely despised. Seriously, just the sight of him was enough to ruin your day. This wasn't petty envy– okay, well maybe it was. Just a bit. You hated how your parents blindly adored and praised him (“Why can't you just be more like Richard?”), you hated how you were known first and foremost as his best friend, Richard's cheerful little lapdog. You hated how you spent so much of your life at his beck and call, because what else were you supposed to do? Ignore him? Fuck. Even as kids, that would be social suicide. 

Yandere Best Friend who liked you more than you thought you did. He was always weirdly drawn to you, in the same way a starving dog would be to a rare bone thrown it's way. Hungry, possessive, and greedy. You reasoned it as something like imprinting, you were his first real friend. Not a mindless follower in awe of his assertive charisma. But somebody who he initially perceived as an equal. You say initially, because at this point he sees you less as an equal and more of an extension of himself, like a nice watch he can't bear to take off. 

You only truly discovered how deep this went when he learned you and Harry were sleeping together. 

Really it was Harry's fault. 

You were supposed to go have dinner with Richard's family at their place, a monthly tradition both your parents established when you two were young and have since kept up without fail. But then he yelled for you outside your window, and, well… he was still wet from his shower and you could never resist him when he was wearing his letterman jacket. 

That was when it started, you think. The first little clue in Richard's very own Nancy Drew mystery that has led him to slamming your bedroom door open on a Friday night while your parents are out of town.

“Jesus, ever learned how to knock?” You place a hand to your chest and act shocked, like swinging the door open like a battering ram wasn't a regular occurence. 

Usually Richard would respond with teasing, jokingly apoligzing for startling your poor, weak heart or for attacking your sensitive ears with such a loud noise. You never liked it, but you heard it so much at this point that it stopped bothering you a long time ago. 

“What the fuck is up with you and Harry?” 

‘You and Harry’. Three words you used to be afraid hearing in one go. You still are. Whenever somebody would say, “I saw you and Harry,” you would force a smile on your face and respond with, “Really?” 

But this is a different question. “What is up with you and Harry?” 

Your mind can only come up with one answer as to why Richard asked this question and that alone is to send you into panic mode. 

But you simply raise your brow, “Uh, nothing? Is this about the brownies? Sorry if I gave him extra but you didn't finish your share so if it's anybody's fault it's yours–” 

“This isn't about your shit brownies [Name]—” 

You gasp, once again pressing a hand to your chest, making sure to exaggerate your expression, but not too much, just enough to look convincing, “How dare you! You said you loved them—”

“Well I lied, idiot,” Richard's gaze hardened, he crossed his arms as he stood over you while you sat cross legged on your bed, “And don't change the subject!”

You raise your hands in faux-surrender and try to look like your feelings have been hurt, “I wasn't! You shit talked my brownies– which I'm not gonna forgive by the way— and I just defended them like any normal person would.” 

“So yeah, Richard, we are staying on subject! The subject is simply about my amazing brownies and your crappy taste buds.” 

Richard’s nostrils flare in exasperation. He curses under his breath while he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a polaroid picture which he then shoves at your chest. You look at the picture, and you can't restrain yourself from releasing the ensuing gasp. 

It was you and Harry, in Harry's car at night parked near the lake on the outskirts of town, making out under the cover of darkness. 

“Woah, holy shit– Harry's gay?!” 

“You're making out with him in the picture–” 

“Nahhh, that's not me bro! I was out… fishing with my… great uncle.” 

“Your great uncle died two years ago.”

“Well, I have another great uncle, and he's in tip top shape. Asshole.” 

“You have the same baseball hat you're wearing in that picture.”

“...No I don't.” 

Richard stares at you, then silently points to an identical hat on your bedside table.

“That's not mine. I borrowed it from Steve.” 

“Fucker, I gave you that for your fifteenth birthday.” 

—

Richard always knew something wasn't right with you. 

Listen, he didn't believe in whatever bullshit Father Callahan spewed from his mouth. Gay guys were freaks of nature, sure, but they weren't sent by the devil. 

But you were an exception. Shit, with the way you made him feel maybe you were a little succubus made to take him off the righteous path or whatever. 

Ever since you guys were kids he's always felt this uncontrollable desire to have absolute and complete control over your entire being. Richard doesn't know to describe it as anything other than an almost instinctual impulse, the universe telling him that you were meant to be his when he was still too young to understand. 

Still. He thought that you would have standards. Richard could see the common sense in wanting to bone, whenever he got to get it on with Hannah he was in bliss even if she wasn't you, but for you to choose Harry. The spoiled little wuss Harold Kelly, instead of him? 

He treated you better than the rest, but he had limits. Limits you overstepped. It's only fair that you're going to get punished. 

“Ahaha… uh, are you sure that's me and Harry in that picture…?” 

Richard clicks his tongue. When would you understand that there was no use denying it? 

“That is literally Harry's exact plate number on that car.” 

Your shoulders slump, and Richard feels a mix of dread and satisfaction at the resigned expression on your face. Satisfaction because he won. Dread because his worst fears have been confirmed. 

“Who took the picture?” 

Richard snatches the photo away from you, “Made that little freak Greg Werner stalk you two,” He sneers and takes a step closer, “Bet he got a lot of fap material from that. Scrawny little guy like him, there's no question he's a fag. You would know, wouldn't you? You're just like him after all–” 

“Okay, fine! So what if I am?” You jab your index finger into his chest, his green eyes widening as they focus on it, “What I do in my private time is my business and none of yours. My life is barely even my own, and it's all. Because. Of. You! So don't you fucking dare take what little personal pleasure I have away from me.” 

With each word you speak, Richard's heart aches. It's a sharp, cold pain like a knife is being stabbed into his does. There's a silence when you finish, taut with your resentment and Richard's hesitant regret. He wants to say something, but what could he say? That it wasn't his fault? That he was sorry? That he didn't want you to leave him? He felt like he was watching a beautiful bird he had nursed back to health and kept safe from the dangers of the world start flapping its wings and fly, far, far away from him. 

“Get out, Richard,” You turn away from him, “If you want me to leave your group and fuck off then I'll do so gladly.” 

“No.” Richard grabs your arm. 

“Wha- what do you mean no? Richard let go of me.” 

Richard weighs what is important to him on a scale in his mind. You, or his status. 

You were his best friend. Even if you were starting to slip away, to college, to Harry, out of his sight and out of his life, you were the only person he wanted to keep in his life. The only friend he could see himself going out for drinks with when he was older. 

You were his first love. His only love. The first subject of his shameful adolescent dreams that left him awake at night, sweaty and spent on his bed. Once he had contemplated running away with you, changing names, and living a life free from the close minded small town in the middle of bumfuck nowhere the two of you grew up in. 

But he had a reputation to maintain. A father who he had to satisfy with the standard accomplishments a father would expect of his son. He had a girlfriend whose father was the town's mayor. A town whose watchful eyes praised him as a good, upstanding young man who was destined for greatness. A star athlete who was going to play in the big leagues and finally place the town on the map. 

In the grand scheme of things, you were just another teenager in his shadow. 

You were destined to be remembered in history as merely another name in his autobiography. Richard Shepherd's childhood best friend. 

However Richard's stomach curled at the thought of that. You and him, separated. No longer within the same circle, but in different worlds entirely. 

The scales tip in your favour.

—

What happens next is a blur. You're shoved into the mattress of your bed and pinned down. You try to escape and Richard cows you into submission with a punch to the gut that nearly has you hurling from the force.

Your clothes are ripped from your skin, your protests go unheard, your body is a tool. Richard too has stripped himself, he spreads your legs. He grabs you by the chin when you close you try to look away, “Unless you want this to hurt more you're going to look at me when I do this.” 

So you look, and you cry, and you weep as you feel his cock invade you. It's not a dry insertion, but God it still hurts. Richard gasps when he sheathes himself fully inside, his eyes are blown wide and his mouth hangs open like he's seeing stars. His fingers dig into your waist, and he bites his lip, his face tells it all and even in this position you can't help but smirk. Feels better than Hannah's, doesn't it Richard? 

That's the last thought you remember having before Richard goes wild. 

You do it on your bed, against your desk, pressed against the cool surface of your window. Richard cums multiple times inside you, he even cries at one point, screaming words you can barely remember in your fucked out state as tears streamed down his cheeks. 

Richard makes you scream his name as he moans out yours. He asks if Harry kissed you before and when you're too tired to respond he slams his lips into yours and practically eats away at your mouth. 

Eventually he finishes, pulling out of your worn out hole, with a wet plap. Your body shudders as you release a long, shaky breath. 

“You’ve ruined me,” Richard pants, his blonde hair is sticking up, he’s covered in a light sheen of sweat, and his green eyes are blown wide open as he tries to compose himself, “I… I can’t- Hannah could never…” 

He stares at you as you lie below him, equally sweaty, your neck and shoulders are littered with hickeys and bite marks, and you’re on the verge of passing out. The rims of your eyes are red, and your face is moist with tears. Your lip is swollen from Richard’s teeth digging into them, nearly tearing them off in his fervour. 

You look like you’re about to die. 

He looks more alive than he ever has before. 

Richard looks like he wants to do it again. 

Yet his eyes are filled with fear, and you want to laugh, but your throat is crying out in pain.

“You’ve ruined me.”

Yandere Best friend Bully who keeps you on a shorter leash now. He doesn't do anything in public. Okay, that's a lie. But he makes sure he doesn't get caught. And despite being the classic stereotype of a small town jock, complete with his hot cheerleader girlfriend and powerful inner circle, he's not an idiot. He doesn't do anything to out you, or even leave any hints to your sexuality. He doesn't even tell Harry he knows. No, this is his little secret. Your little secret. Just like the old days when the two of you had a secret fort deep in the woods behind his father's farm. 

Yandere Bully who knows he can't keep you around his group, even to be the new punching bag. The guys would be too grossed and the girls.. well he didn't really care what they thought actually. Same went for the guys, to be honest. What mattered was the words they would say that would be whispered and spread like wildfire around the school. 

Richard likes keeping the school homo around

Really? 

Really! 

You think he fucks the fag? 

Why else? I don't see any bruises on the fucker’s face 

Yandere Bully who can't bring himself to hurt you. Is he disappointed? Yes. Is he furious? Yes. Does he want to beat somebody’s head in till the anger goes away? Oh, no doubt. But if he were to ever hit your handsome face then he'd hit himself over the head with a brick a hundred times over. 

Yandere Bully who resorts to being rough. He uses you like you're a lowly hooker, here to give him happiness and send him flying high to heaven with pleasure. He pins your wrists above your head. He smacks your ass. Digs his nails into your solid muscle till you bleed. He litters your skin with harsh, red bitemarks. 

You would cover it all up the next day by saying you spent the night with a girl. You never say, you never do, so nobody questions who. He used to be jealous, resentful of whatever bitch was able to lay her needy hands on you, but now he only smirks at the sight of the miserable pout on Harry's face. 

Yandere Bully who doesn't spare Harry either. Bumping into him in the hallways. Stomping on his foot during football practice. Flirting with his girlfriend by the lockers, a smirk on his face while his eyes are on Harry, quietly fuming while his girlfriend giggles and twirls her hair bashfully. His humiliation of Harry is what makes the other guys join in. They jeer at him, mock him by asking if he liked getting cucked, and start slowly respecting him less. That is, till you step in of course.

Yandere Bully who ignores the bitter complaints of the other guys, angered by the humiliation they suffer at your hands, and watches as resentment stews inside him as you scold Harry, hands brushing a stray chestnut lock away from his eyes while he smiles sheepishly, his ears burning red after being graced with your touch after so long of being deprived of it. The two of you looked natural, you looked happy, really happy. Real happy, with a real smile to boot.

Yandere Bully who sometimes wonders, during nights when he has you in his arms, your back facing him as you avoid his intense gaze by placing yourself in front of the wall, what exactly your feelings for Harry entail. Did you just want to fuck or did you like Harry the same way Hannah liked Richard? 

Yandere Bully who sometimes wonders what he feels for you. He likes you, more than Harry, and certainly more than Hannah. But sometimes he wonders what's the difference between liking somebody and desiring them. 

One day he looks at you the morning after a raunchy night in your bed and the sun pours in from your window, your brows furrow and a frown forms on your face. You bury your head in your pillow, and Richard decides that whatever he felt for you was completely beyond his comprehension. 

Yandere Bully who should have known that Harry would start poking his nose eventually. He couldn't understand what you wanted from Harry, but he knew that he and Harry wanted the same thing from you: You in your unsullied entirety. 

Yandere Bully who one day finds you alone in a room with Harry. He looks through a small gap in the doorway, and Harry is on his knees, drying your leg with a towel. The group was staying at Harry’s lakeside cabin during the summer, and you had all come back from swimming in the lake. Harry looks up at you from beneath his eyelashes, a seemingly innocent smile on his face while you narrow your eyes at him, a smirk curling at your lips. 

Richard does a sharp intake of breath at your laugh, floating through the air like a gentle, silvery breeze. Your head rests on your hand while the other plays with Harry's damp hair, “Jesus christ, it was freezing though,” You shudder at the memory of it, “I felt like I was gonna turn into a popsicle.” 

Harry giggles, fucker actually giggled, “Bet you'd be a hot popsicle though.” 

“What the hell— A hot popsicle? You mean sexy?” At Harry's shy nod, you throw your head back and laugh, “So what, you're gonna drag your tongue over me and lick every inch of my body?” 

Harry's ears start to burn red, “Well… I wouldn't… I wouldn't mind doing it even if… you aren't a popsicle…” 

Before you can even respond, Richard swings the door wide open and the two of you snap to attention, Harry jolts and quickly scrambles to his feet and you practically leap off of the bed.

“Richard! Buddy! Pal! Amigo!” Harry exclaims, “What're you doing there at the door? Come in, come in! We were just talking about… uh—” 

“The temperature,” You supply seamlessly with a firm nod, “I think my balls froze off in the lake man, they're numb as hell.” 

Harry gapes at you for a moment before shaking his head with fervour and then nodding with the same amount of intensity, “Yep! How about we go on a walk after lunch? Absorb some good ol’ vitamin D, whaddya say Richard?” 

Richard narrows his gaze at the two of you, his eyes flickering to Harry who beams like an idiot dog, then to you who sports a similar ‘ignorant’ smile. 

“Bring it up with the others,” Richard mutters in gruff tone, “[Name] go tell them to start making lunch, Harry stay behind would you? I have to talk to you about something.”

“About what?”

“Football.” 

“Ah, okie doke!” Harry smiles, not a single thought behind his blue eyes, “Seeya later [Name]!” 

You hesitate for a moment, chewing your lip in thought, but a sharp glare from Richard is enough to have you roll your eyes and head out, “Don't take too long unless you wanna be eating our leftovers.” 

“So is it about the upcoming game? The Bears have got nothing on us man, don't you sweat–” 

“Harry, you buffoon, that was obviously just a guise,” Richard closes the door shut, “I want you to stay away from [Name].” 

“Huh? Why?” Harry cocks his head to the side, “Is something wrong? Did [Name] do something?”

“It doesn't matter,” Richard waves his hand like he's swatting flies away, “I don't want you anywhere near him. Not even within an inch.”

“You can't just do that Richard,” Harry protests, but Richard is already turning away from him. 

“I can,” Richard narrows his eyes at him, green against blue, “And I will.” 

Before his fingers can even brush the metal of the doorknob, Harry grabs Richard's shoulder and spins him around, “No, Richard, you can't.”

There's an unusually serious expression on Harry's face that Richard never thought he'd see till Harry would reach his thirties, that is, if they were to even remain in touch. 

Harry was a coward, plain and simple. He cried like a bitch when he watched scary movies, he was deathly afraid of the dark, once on a previous trip to the Cabin there was a spider in the bedroom and he simply stood on the couch pointing and screaming at the insect as his own girlfriend was the one who took it outside using a glass cup and a piece of paper. 

When they first met, it took only three minutes for Richard to cement himself in Harry's mind as a person to listen to, to respect, and obey. And it was something that wouldn't change, till just now that is. 

“I know you've been doing something to [Name],” Harry stares him down, for the first time in his life it truly registers in Richard just how tall Harry is as he stands nearly half a head above him, “And whatever it is, I want you to stop.”

Richard sneers, “Look at you. Harold Kelly. The town pushover finally grew some balls, huh?” He shoves Harry away, “But if you think I'm going to listen to you just because of that then you really are as big of an idiot as everybody says you are.” 

Harry shakes his head, “You're hurting him, you know?” He meets Richard's piercing gaze without flinching, “You keep pushing him like this and he's going to snap eventually.” 

“Why do you care? What is he, your little girlfriend? That why you didn't bother stepping up when your girlfriend had her mitts all over me?” 

“He's my friend Richard, and friends care for each other,” Harry frowns, a disappointed look in his eyes that makes Richard want to sock him across the face (Who is he to look at him like that?), “You'd know that if you weren't so selfish.” 

“What are you trying to say to me Harry?” Richard takes another step forward, smirking when Harry instinctively backs away, “If you're saying I don't care about [Name] then you're dead wrong, because nobody will ever care for him in his life as I will, not even you Harry. You wanna know why? Because you don't understand him, nobody does. Nobody except me, and that's why even if you two are flirting and going at each other like the little fairies you two are, the only person who will stay in his life forever is me.”

“You know?” Harry's voice is quiet, whatever bravery he mustered up is gone and he's back to the wuss Richard pushes around in his free time. 

“Of course I do, nobody knows him better than I do after all, this is no exception.” 

Harry's mouth hangs open slightly, and Richard snickers at the expression, smirking at his undeniable triumph over the other, “I won't say it again Harry, leave [Name] alone. If you don't, I'll tell the school you've been raping him.” 

The threat makes Harry flinch, “No… you wouldn't.” 

“You know better than to think that Harry.” 

“E-even if you did, nobody would believe you!” 

“Harry people have seen [Name] with your hickeys and bite marks, it wouldn't be so hard to convince them you're gay and Lucy is just your beard. Besides,” Richard drawls in a sing-song tone, “I have pictures~” 

Harry's visage is consumed by an expression of defeat and hopelessness, “This is wrong Richard, you're ruining his life.” 

“Please, if anything the only reason he has this life is because of me,” Richard scoffs, ignoring the twinge in his chest at Harry's words, “Now, if you'll excuse me.” 

Without waiting for a response, Richard enters the dining room, and takes a seat beside Hannah and across you. 

“What took you so long?” Hannah looks up from her plate, a bored look in her eyes. 

Richard peck's her on the forehead, lips stiff, “Harry and I were talking about football.” 

“Geez,” Hannah rolls her eyes, “All boys talk about is sports and cars, tsk.” 

“Don't forget the girls,” Peter jokes. 

Hannah wrinkles her nose, “Eugh.” 

You send him a narrowed glance, a silent question hung in the air between the two of you. What happened? 

Richard merely smirks, it widens at Harry's arrival. You look at Harry hopefully, only to visibly deflate when he sits beside Lucy at the other end of the table. 

You turn to Richard again, eyes hardened, “What did you say?” You mouth. 

Richard shrugs. You curse under your breath. 

Yandere Bully who you can't stand anymore. At this point, could your life really be called your own? Richard always had his eye on you, day and night. He would spend his entire day with you. Even staying behind after practice to shower with you. He would eat at your table during dinner and stay over the night, you would be caged in your own bed, struggling to sleep while his hot breath fanned against your neck. 

Fuck. Even Tommy would send you pitying glances when you would visit his house. Tommy! The kid you would pin down while Richard tore up his drawings in front of him. 

The last straw is Harry. Lovable, cowardly, foolish Harry. Harry who avoids your gaze and practically flees when you enter his vicinity. Harry who tells you that he can’t see you anymore. That he shouldn't. That what the two of you are doing is wrong, it always has been. 

You can't take this anymore. You have to get away. From the school. From the town. From Richard fucking Shepherd. You could tolerate it, barely but you could tolerate it. But then Harry broke your heart and suddenly you don't have a reason to tolerate what Richard is doing to you anymore. 

Yandere Bully who expects to be offered full-ride scholarships to ivy-league colleges, but when scouts arrive they ignore him in favour of team players like Harry. You know this because the same night after Harry proudly announces he got a scholarship to the University of Michigan, he fucks you in the backseat of his car without a single shred of mercy, cursing under his breath the entire time. Talk about envy. 

Yandere Bully whose expression can only be described as devastated when you break the news over dinner that a college in the city has accepted you, over his parents congratulating you and your parents tearful smiles, he looks like he's about to cry and scream at you all at once.

Yandere Bully who that night, in the barn on top the stacks of hay, when he thinks you've passed out he hugs you, actually hugs you, as sobs rack through his frame. He begs you not to leave him, and you feel almost guilty for not opening your eyes and assuring him that you won't. But you don't, because even you're not so cruel as to give him such an empty promise. 

Yandere Bully who never sees you again after graduation. He tries to get you to stay, he even threatens releasing the pictures, but your only response is a shrug. 

“Will you miss me?” 

You scoff, “Will I miss you? Richard, there's nothing to miss. If anything, I should be asking you that question.” 

“What's that supposed to mean?” 

“I think you know exactly what it means.” 

“Enlighten me then.”

“You love me.” 

“You're delusional.”

“Wow, look at the pot calling the kettle black,” You chuckle. 

“I'm not gay [Name].” 

“Then why were you so mad about Harry then?’ 

“Because he was a fag.” 

"Well, I'm a fag too, but you certainly treat me better than you ever treated Harry.” 

“That's because you're different.” 

“I'm special.” 

“Whatever you wanna call it.” 

“I'm special… because you love me.” 

“I don't love you.” 

“But will you miss me?” 

“You're going to come back.” 

“And how are you so sure?” 

“Because I said so.” 

You smile, “Don't count on it, Richard.”

Yandere Bully who breaks up with Hannah eventually, after she catches him cheating on her with a relative of yours who was staying in town. What can he say? She had your eyes. 

Yandere Bully who only has the old baseball hat he gave you for your birthday to remember you by. It's either you forgot to pack it or you left it behind on purpose. Even if it hurts, he prefers the latter. At least it meant he mattered to you in some way, even if it's in a negative light. He always wears the hat, even if Raph teases him for it, all he has to do is knock the little shit in the head and he shuts his mouth about Richard's fashion choices.

Yandere Bully who writes letters he never sends, words written in a rough scrawl confessing truths he was too afraid to admit, that he's still afraid to admit to this day. 

[Name]

Sunflower gave birth today, a colt with a coat the colour of chocolate. We named it London. I think dad has been thinking of going there, but I don't think he ever will. 

Have you gone to London? I hope you haven't. We wanted to go there together, didn't we? You wanted to meet Harry Potter and I wanted to… well I didn't want to do anything there. I think I didn't mind where I was, I just wanted to be with you. 

I wish you came back. I wish you never left. I wish you stayed with me in this shitty town and worked with me in my family's shitty farm. I know it's cruel, and I know you don't deserve it, but neither do I okay? I deserved a life with you and it's unfair that you got to leave and I'm still trapped here

Sunflower misses you, I think she got more sad when you left and hasn't changed since. She keeps whinnying like she's calling out for you and it bothers all the other horses because they can't sleep, and when they can't sleep then I can't sleep, and you know I fucking hate it when I can't sleep so could you just come back and spare me further trouble? 

I got rid of the pictures. You don't have to worry about anything. I just need you back here. So I can sleep. 

Richard 

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

[riamaple]

Life on Your Line (Ch. 5)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Cursed to sacrifice your life to save another, you were never able to connect with others, always meant to drift before you could belong. Death was all you knew. Then, one day in Brooklyn, you saved a young man, and for some reason, you kept seeing him again. And again. And again. No matter where you went, across decades, you always found your way back to him.

He was forced to live to destroy, you were forced to die to save—bound together in ways neither of you could understand.

Warnings: Angst (with an eventual happy ending). Death and Dying. Self-Sacrifice (Immortality / Resurrection). Canon-Typical Violence / Description of Wounds. Suicidal Thoughts. Implications and References to Child Death, Suicide, Self-Destructive Behavior / Self-Harm.

Additional Warning(s) for This Chapter: Brief Reference to Vomiting

< PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Word Count: 4.1k

CHAPTER 5: November 1977 - February 2004

November 9, 1977. 4:30 AM

I saved James for the 5th time on October 9 and my stomach is killing me.

I got home earlier than I thought — I should’ve known Jonny was gonna be a disaster of a date. He told me at the last minute to dress nice and then took me to a wedding. A WEDDING! I thought he was gonna take me to a fancy restaurant, but no. He took me to a wedding, pretending that I was his longtime girlfriend when this was our second date. So I pretended to break up with him and left immediately. 

Of course, I wasn’t going to date Jonny for long, but it still would’ve been nice to be with a man who doesn’t treat you like trash. He was truly a reminder of why I stopped trying to date decades ago, regardless of my curse. Too many shitty people everywhere.

I came home and just crashed onto my couch. I dozed off in the middle of the day, but then I woke up at a party at a giant mansion. Luckily, I was still in my dress from that failed date so I didn’t stick out. Or, maybe it wasn’t luck — maybe you knew well enough to put me in that dress.

When I woke up at that party, I was confused. It always takes me a moment to realize I’m not dreaming — that I’m there for one person.

I moved past all of the snobby people to find James and couldn’t help but notice how many security guards there were. There was a guard almost at every entrance and they all tried to look tough. But based on what I’ve seen from James, these men have no chance against him.

There was a hallway that didn’t have a guard. I’ve learned at this point that those are signs pointing me to James. I kept walking until I heard a loud thud from a private study. When I opened the door, I saw him right by the door, standing over a man — some politician — with a gun in his metal hand.

It’s been about 9 years since I last saw him and I missed him, but he hasn't aged a day and he looks even colder and stiffer than before. The person in charge of him is still trying to carve away the young man from Brooklyn. But when James looked up and raised his gun at me, he stopped.

He’s done this before — look at me and take a moment to realize who I am…but I think it happened faster this time. He was more of a machine than he was back on that plane, and yet James came back in those eyes quicker than before. He kept his gun up, but I managed to walk up to him without him shooting me. I think he looked nervous to see me

I wanted to talk to him, but I felt the pull so I grabbed him. He let me grab him because I think his body knows now I’m not a threat. Considering I’ve saved his ass 4 times by that point, he better know I’m not a threat. I grabbed him and pulled him away and I was stabbed in the chest. I want to say I’m used to being stabbed now, but it still sucks.

What I’m not used to, on the other hand, is getting caught after getting hurt. James shot the guard in the head as he caught me, just like he did on the plane. He helped me lie down and looked at me for a long time. He was wearing his mask like before, but I only needed to look into his eyes to see how confused he was again.

He was supposed to walk away. Let me die alone while he went back to wherever he came from like he did on the plane…but he stayed. He sat next to me, keeping me company as long as he could. I wanted to ask him where he was from — who was in charge of him — but I couldn’t say a word without coughing up blood. I really wanted to ask because if I knew…maybe I could try to free him from his prison.

But then, you’ll never believe what happened next.

James touched my face.

He moved closer and held his hand — not the metal one — against my cheek. His hand was surprisingly soft He blinked at me like he was trying to figure out where he knew me from.

I no longer believe that he doesn’t remember me because we haven't seen each other for years, or that he pretends not to know me… I think he actually doesn’t remember me. He’s always confused when he sees me. 

Are they torturing him so badly that he forgets who I am? Who he is? 

But despite forgetting me, I saw James fighting in those frost blue eyes before I died.

If they’re somehow making James forget who he is, I think I can be the one to get him to come back.

<><><>

February 2, 1978. 5:19 AM

It’s been 3 months and here I am, thinking about how James touched my face like a dumb teenager with a crush. He

Your pen and journal flew across the room before you fell back into bed, throwing the covers over yourself as you let out an irritated yell.

<><><>

August 14, 1981. 5:19 AM

I started to read about James.

I don’t know what made me do it all of a sudden, but when I walked by our archives, I had the urge to find articles about him. I asked Carl if I could look through wartime records from the 40s — he was a little confused by my request but showed me where they were. I never mention James to him.

Considering he was with Captain America for most of the war, it was easy to spot his name. There were so many stories about him and the Howling Commandos taking down HYDRA bases and freeing the prisoners.

I forgot that his middle name is Buchanan. 

James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky Barnes.

What a name.

There was also a photo of him. He was young and proud, standing tall with his unit with a smile on his face.

I almost forgot what his smile looked like. It’s pretty cute

I read the articles slowly as if it was my first time reading them. It wasn’t — I read the same papers decades ago when they arrived at my doorstep. I kept up with the news to make sure he was alive, still going out and fighting against HYDRA like the hero he was is.

I remember feeling proud of him, even though I didn’t really have the right to. I wasn’t his family or friend, or a name that would show up in his file or stories about him. But I gave him back to the world twice, so I let myself believe a little bit that I had a small hand in the man he became. A hero. A fighter. A soldier who held the line when others couldn’t.

Because of James, I allowed myself to believe — just for a while — that this curse was a blessing.

<><><>

May 30, 1987. 6:48 AM

I saved James for the 6th time on April 30. I woke up on my couch with the left side of my back burning. 

I went to bed after an uneventful day at work and woke up in a city I’ve always wanted to visit. Tokyo. It was really pretty. There were all of these neon lights that eventually did hurt my eyes, but they lit up the streets in a gorgeous way that I could barely see here in Maine.

It took me a bit to find James this time because I woke up in an empty apartment. I thought he was in the building with me, but then I saw that one of the windows was open, meaning he was outside. I found myself in a dark alley and just wandered from one place to another. I did get worried at one point because I thought maybe I missed him and I already failed. But my worries went away when I finally found him standing by a dumpster in another alleyway.

He heard me and immediately pointed his gun at me, but I didn’t care. I just knew he wouldn’t shoot me. Even if he did, I would’ve saved him anyway. He lowered his gun as I walked up to him, but then I felt the pull and noticed the red dot on his chest. I moved in front of him and the bullet hit my back.

James didn’t let me fall again. I was surprised, but he actually ran to catch me. I think he was already moving towards me before the bullet hit. He moved me out of the way, hiding me behind the dumpster before he used his own rifle to kill the sniper. It reminded me of him from the war. 

He moved me against the wall and watched me. He didn’t look as confused as before — not as distant. I asked him who was in charge of him and he didn’t respond, but I could see in his eyes that he was surprised by my question. I don’t know if he could tell me, even if he wanted to. 

I didn’t realize it for a while, but he was pressing on my wound. It wasn’t until he shifted that I realized his hand was on my back. I think he was trying to figure out what to do, but also didn’t understand why he should save me to begin with. 

I pushed his arm away and he let me. I think he finally understands that he can’t stop me from dying.

I called him James and he said he didn’t know who that was. I tried to explain, but he touched my face before I could. He’d touched my cheek before, but…it was different this time. 

You know when you wake up from a dream and you can’t seem to remember what it was about? And as the day goes on, you might remember bits and pieces but still not get the full story.

I think he’s tired of waking up from a dream. It was like he was trying to memorize my face rather than just remember the bits of me. Trying to hold onto whatever I am to him.

He was finally close enough that I managed to touch his face too. I felt his temples — there were scars there again. I couldn’t see them in the dark, but they felt new. I asked him again who was in charge of him and he didn’t tell me. Then we heard a lot of yelling in the streets — numerous men looking for the person who killed their boss. I told James to leave and he didn’t.

When he looked back at me, I didn’t know what to think.

He looked afraid. 

Afraid for what? I don’t know, but I’ve never seen him afraid. I only saw his eyes, but there was definitely fear there. I wanted to comfort him and

He reached for my necklace and opened my locket again. He stared at it for a long time before looking at me. He asked me who I was, and I said that I was someone who was there to save him. He asked why I saved him, and I said he deserved to live. 

He didn’t understand that.

He tugged lightly on my locket like he wanted to take it — to take something that would remind him of me — but I didn’t let him. I told him to leave before he was caught. He tucked my locket back into my shirt, took one last look at me, and disappeared.

But I think he knows I’ll see him again. I want to see him again.

<><><>

June 6, 1987. 9:15 PM

I’ve had many different careers in my life, and yet I always find comfort in being surrounded by texts.

Right now, I’m using my career to my advantage. I want to figure out why James’s memory is loose — why he can never remember me at first, or himself for that matter. I’m gathering any books and research papers in the library that might lead me somewhere.

I want to fig

I have to 

I will figure this out. I have to get James to come back.

<><><>

The front door slammed open and you rushed into your apartment, eyes welling up with tears and breath coming out erratically. You rushed to your bedroom and ripped the drawer of your bedside table open, your hands trembling as you grabbed your journal and pen. You quickly scribbled down the start of your entry.

January 25, 1990. 6:42 PM

I can’t fucking do this. I

The journal fell to the floor as you stumbled to your bathroom, your stomach no longer happy with your meal from earlier.

<><><>

January 25, 1990. 6:42 PM 11:25 PM

I can’t fucking do this. I

I threw up. Like, a lot. All because of a theory that seems too real.

I’ve been reading novels and stories for many decades, keeping up with history and fantasies from around the world. But I’ve always avoided reading anything gruesome or tragic — I deal with enough bloodshed and loss in my life.

But ever since my last encounter with James, I started to read about anything I could find about memory loss. I found novels, research, and memoirs about what it means to lose your memory. But then I ended up having to read horrifying cases of experiments and medical studies, and it took me a while to get through them because I have a weak stomach for this kind of thing. I know it’s ironic considering I’ve died in the most gruesome way imaginable, but when it happens to other people, it makes me sick.

For years, I wondered why James always seemed to forget me, trying to grasp me like I was just out of reach. I tried to tell myself it was because I only saw him after so many years apart or a form of amnesia, but the way he touched my face told me that there was something more to this than just forgetting — than just being forced to go on missions as a ghost. I slowly started to suspect it was some form of mind control, so I started to read about anything that was about altering the brain.

I knew something was wrong. But when I read about studies where electric shocks were used to wipe a person’s mind, I wanted to scream. 

It's not drugs. It’s not mind control. 

It’s brainwashing.

Those scars on his temples make sense. They’re burn marks. There were always new ones whenever I saw him — evidence that they were ripping him apart to make the perfect soldier, only meant to follow orders and nothing else. They’re forcing him to forget. That’s why he doesn’t remember me. His instincts tell him that I’m a friend, but his mind has to piece me back together.

No wonder he looked so scared when I told him to leave. Leaving means to go back to THEM and get burned and torn apart all over again. I wish he told me who was doing this to him. If I knew, then maybe I could get the authorities involved — put him on someone’s radar and find a way to get him out. I have to find out next time. I have to free him.

But how do you free someone who doesn’t even know they need to be freed? Every time I see him, he looks at me like I’m a distant memory, something slipping through his fingers even though I’m standing right there. And yet, he always reaches for me, just enough to make me see that James is still in there. I need James 

But if I keep showing up as a reminder of who he was, does he feel more pain when they shock him? Does it hurt more when there are more memories to burn away?

I don’t want to hurt him, but I don’t want him to die either. I need him to survive long enough for someone to free him. 

I have to save him over and over and over again. I don’t care how many times it takes. 

<><><>

October 7, 1998. 7:26 AM

I saved James for the 7th time on September 7, and I woke up just in time to miss my baby’s 100th birthday.

You have a twisted sense of humor.

I was gonna spend the whole day celebrating her, but that day happened yesterday. I’m so bitter about it but I know that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve always been fucked up.

But still, you couldn’t have given me this? I’m sure with how you’ve controlled my life, you have some say in deciding when James needs me. I’m not mad about saving him — I’m mad that you couldn’t have let me comfortably walk around yesterday to celebrate my baby girl. Get some of our favorite eclairs and maybe a teddy bear — one that has a dress and pretty shoes that she would’ve liked.

You let me lose her when she was 6. You know I still grieve over her. Did you not have the decency to let me enjoy my baby’s big day?

I fell asleep after finishing my book and I woke up in the middle of a fight at a warehouse. I was hiding behind a crate, surrounded by weapons and gadgets, listening to a bunch of men yelling in what I could only assume was Russian. 

I looked over the crate and I saw James killing men left and right. He was more robotic than before — every move he made was calculated and efficient. It’s been 11 years since I last saved him, and he's only become more skilled at ending lives. There was so much blood and those men didn’t have a chance. 

Then I felt the pull and looked over to see one of the men hiding too, but he had grabbed a…I think it was a gun? It looked strange like it’s been tinkered with. It reminded me of the weird, strange weapon James fought against back in the war. Now that I think about it, I’m pretty sure James was attacking an arms dealer of some kind at the warehouse — the weapons they were using were not normal.

I ran in front of the man as he shot at James and holy shit — whatever he used was painful. It got me in my thigh, which was surprising because I’m so used to getting hit in the chest or stomach. Leg wounds aren’t lethal, but that just meant that this weapon was deadly enough to take me out like that.

The man who shot me was so confused and distracted by my presence that he got shot in the head. I looked at James and he was different. He was still terrifying but when he saw me on the floor, he turned into an animal. He went through the other men so brutally, slicing their skin so fast that their blood would hit the floor before their bodies did.

He was angry. He was normally collected, but he was horrifying then. I was actually scared that he would kill me next in his rage, but I couldn’t get away. My thigh was burning so much that I couldn’t move the rest of my body. I just closed my eyes, hoping to die quicker to stop the pain.

But then I was no longer on the floor. I opened my eyes to see his cold ones. He was carrying me in his arms — he never did that before. He held onto me tight and ran out of the warehouse. I didn’t know where we were going, but he carried me like I wasn’t a burden. 

We eventually ended up in an abandoned building, empty except for some medical kits and cases with bullets. I think that was where supplies were dropped off for him. He laid me against the wall and grabbed the kits.

I never expected that he would try to help me. I could barely keep my eyes open until he started to put pressure on my leg and I screamed. Fuck, I screamed so loud because it really hurt. I don’t know how much blood I lost, but that didn’t stop James from trying to fix me.

But I didn’t want him to. There’s no point — I always die in the end. I told him to stop because it was better to end my pain than to pretend he could help me. I’ve saved him so many times, but there he was trying to return the favor. But it wouldn’t work.

I was crying from the pain. I told him to stop again and he wouldn’t listen to me. James ignored me and kept on trying to tend my wound, but I was already cold and felt death approaching. I just wanted it to stop. I tried to grab his arms and I begged him to stop.

Then he yelled.

He fucking yelled “no” at me.

He was so desperate

I have known this man for so many decades, and yet we’ve only ever spoken to each other a few times. It was only ever a few quiet words, and most of the time it was only me talking.

He’s never yelled at me before.

We just stared at each other. I was surprised but him? James was appalled by what he did, like he didn’t know he was capable of…that. In his eyes, I saw a terrified young man, bruised by war yet so loved by others. He wanted to save me. God, he really did want to save me.

I wanted to see him. So I reached up and he let me pull his mask down. He wore despair and pain in a strange way like he couldn’t figure out how he could feel this way after so many years of being a killing machine. 

He was so lost, so I held his face, touching the scars around his temples again. I asked him whose orders he was following and I saw his lips tremble, like he wanted to tell me but something in his body stopped him. I kept on asking him and he kept on opening his mouth, but no words ever left. He couldn’t tell me.

He was still holding onto my wound when I told him to let me go. He listened that time.

But instead of letting me sit against the wall, he picked me up and put me in his lap.

It was like we were back in the war when I was dying in the mountains and James held me close. That was fifty years ago and we’ve both been broken again and again since then, but the comfort I felt was the same. James said sorry to me back then, and I knew he was saying sorry again despite not speaking.

I finally got to tell him his full name. James Buchanan Barnes.

He looked at me like I said a random string of words. But I said his name again and he said he doesn’t know who that is. I said that it was his name. Hopefully, that’ll help his memory. Maybe he’ll remember who he is and escape wherever he’s from. Maybe he already has. James wanted to ask more and I wanted to say more, but I couldn’t. I lost too much blood to keep talking and stay awake.

But when I looked at him one last time, I realized something else. He was scared. He didn’t want me to die because he needed my presence. Because maybe…maybe I’m the only thing still human left inside him.

I died in his arms, but I felt his hand on my cheek before I did. He whispered Rose again and I felt my heart beat faster despite dying

I can only hope that he’ll find another way to be human without me.

<><><>

January 16, 2004. 10:38 PM

January 17, 2004. 9:13 PM

February 18, 2004. 10:10 AM

I have never been more scared in my life until January 18.

I saved James for the 8th time, but I almost failed.

NEXT CHAPTER >

General Taglist! @a-century-of-sass @clemicious @fallenxjas @paryl

Thanks for reading :)

[coco-loco-nut]

I Hate It Here

Pairing: Max x Sister Reader

Summary: Max takes a stand for his sister

TW: jos verstappen, mentioned abuse, depression, mentions of death, mentions of an affair

requests open masterlist ttpd masterlist

——————

With Max gone, you were the one subject to the wrath of Jos Verstappen, especially when you stopped karting after a couple years. So while your brother was off winning grand prix after grand prix, you were continually reminded that you aren’t good enough, that you were the dud of a child.

“Maxie, tell me a story,” you call your older brother in tears one night, you don’t blame him for the fact that you are a failure. You love your older brother more than anything.

With a heavy sigh, Max dives into a made up story, like he was a poet trapped inside the body of a race car driver, except he is an awful storyteller. He does but doesn’t want to know the BS your lame excuse for a father told you.

Max is your best, and only friend, your consolation prize for surviving this far. You stopped really leaving home years ago, only leaving to go to the grocery store. Even to your job, you were just another remote employee.

Max only ever wants the best for his sister, you haven’t seen Victoria since you were so young that you don’t really even know if she actually exists, so he is all you have. Victoria doesn’t really remember you either, seeing as how you were the child of an affair. Max always tries to bring you to races as a lucky charm, but your response is always the same ‘i don’t believe in good luck, maybe next time’. It’s like you are scared to leave home, safer in the comfort of the walls you’ve only ever known.

You pull out your headphones and listen to music, tuning out the world. You hate it here, you hate your father, but you only know of one way to escape. You close your eyes and go to the little paradise in your mind. You read about something similar when you were a kid from a book Max you. It sits on your nightstand, the spine worn and frayed from years of use.

That’s similar to how Max finds you when he arrives a couple weeks later. By now he is used to finding you in that state, you spend most of your free time in your own mind.

“Y/n? Where do you go? In your mind,” Max asks, laying beside you in your bed.

“A little garden, you need a key to get in though,” you say, a little dazed.

“And how would one get a key?” He asks further, trying to keep you engaged.

“There is only one, mine,” you reply, moving to grab your headphones again. Max quickly, but gently takes them.

“Charles was asking about you. He wanted to know how you were, since he hasn’t seen you since I joined F3,” Max continues, you just look at him, an oddity in your dark room.

“Charles?” You ask and Max nods.

“My friend, you thought he had a silly accent, and thought he was cute,” Max elaborates, searching your face to see a look of recognition. You just shrug.

“We used to play games, travel back in time to different decades. You loved the 1800s,��� Max says, not ready to give up.

“I was a debutante,” you whisper causing Max to smile brightly. You just shake your head, you read once that nostalgia is a minds trick. “I bet I hated it, it is always freezing in the palace,” you say, unknowingly giving Max a glimpse into the secret escapes in your mind. In your fantasies you travel everywhere even to space. Secretly you love it, but you are more than content to stay at home, even if you hate it here.

“Come to the FIA Prize Giving with me, pretend it’s one of your fantasies,” Max says, you nod your head, already away in another world where only the gentle survive.

“Max? Am I going to die?” You ask out of the blue, well out of the blue for Max. He doesn’t know how to respond before you turn back into yourself. He stands up, watching you for a minute. You stayed out of your depression a minute longer than usual, a small win for him.

“Leave your poor sister alone,” Jos says, Max just glares at him. Jos is the man who made you like this and Max will never forgive himself for it.

“Y/n is coming with me to Monaco, for good. Since you don’t care about her, I will take care of her,” Max says, prepared to stand his ground.

“Whatever, if you want to tolerate her worthlessness, that’s up to you,” Jos waves his hand, one less failure in his home.

“Don’t call her that,” Max grits his teeth. He was going to wait a couple days, but perhaps it’s necessary to expedite it here.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s your problem now,” Jos walks away. Max returns to your bedroom, getting a suitcase from your closet. Only the essentials for now, the rest can be picked up tomorrow. He packs up as much as he can in an hour before somehow convincing you to go with him to his hotel. You just stare out the window of the car as he drives, clearly uncomfortable. Max gives you the bedroom and takes the pull out couch. He immediately dials Charles.

“Max? What happened?” Charles can hear the exhaustion in Max’s voice.

“I’m bringing Y/n back to Monaco with me, she’s basically being left to rot by Jos. She’s lonely and bitter, but swears she’s fine. Y/n gets lost in her mind on purpose, there’s this fantasy land that she saves the good parts -her romanticism- in her mind. I’m losing her,” Max chokes back a sob.

“Max, what do you mean, losing her?” Charles asks, more alert.

“She doesn’t eat, she’s depressed beyond imagination, doesn’t leave the house, spends the time she isn’t working remotely in her mind. This house, our father, makes her feel worthless. If I didn’t come tonight, she might’ve died. Charles, she asked me if she was going to die,” Max has your image ingrained in his memory, a little too thin and pale.

“I just texted Maman, she will come over and visit her for a little every day, make sure she eats,” Charles says, holding back his own tears. He remembers you fondly as the little girl with pig tails, always excited to spend time with her big brother.

You struggle with the move to Monaco, one you didn’t get a say in it, likely because you spend most of the year in your mind. You have come to grow more comfortable with the woman who visits you and uses food from your brother’s fridge to feed you.

“Y/n? Feel like talking today?” she gently asks, setting the food in front of you, like she does every day. You look up, and Pascale nearly cries, seeing you start to breaks through. Your blue eyes pierce hers.

“Tell me something awful, like you are a poet trapped in the body of a finance guy,”

[dani-says-stuff]

Weak Point

❥ Back to the Control Center

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Davos Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader

Summary: It was a well known fact that the Blackwoods and the Brackens hated one another, the houses would die before agreeing on anything. And it stayed that way until Davos Blackwood realized he might share one thing with the Brackens after all, his weak point.

Warnings: possible ooc davos?, i also made him Willem's nephew idk if thats accurate but whatever, allusions to smut but no actual smut, men being creepy, gross, and objectifying to reader (not Davos), mild violence, Daemon Targaryen, probably more stuff I don't remember... just tread carefully. its no worse than the stuff in the show. this is also very very unedited.

A/N: so, yeah, this is my first time ever writing for got/hotd so i hope i didnt screw it all up too bad. i started this just wanting to jot down this thought i had while watching the show and ended up getting SUPER carried away. i haven't read literally any of the books though so this could be completely messed up for all i know and i apologize for any lore butchering i may have done. i hope you enjoy !

Word Count: 6.2k

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

He was running.

His feet pounding against the ground as he wove throughout the trees under the cover of the black night sky. He hoped the torches carried in the hands of some of the other men didn't betray him, the dim yellow-orange glow casting light upon his face and showing off the panic he'd been trying his best to conceal, hidden poorly behind a half-hearted snear since Willem had returned to Raventree hall. 

Willem Blackwood had announced to the room, bursting at the seams with leagues of angry Blackwood men, that their King consort had granted them leave to do whatever necessary to bring the Brackens to their knees. To destroy their alliance with the Greens and join the right side of history, pledge their allegiance to the true Queen Rhaenyra. 

At first, like all the other men and boys in the room, Davos was excited. He was practically shaking in elation, itching with adrenaline, ready to storm Stone Hedge.

To make the Brackens pay once and for all. 

He imagined some sort of battle would come from the ordeal. They would go head to head once more, fight like they always had with the other house, bring them to their knees for their Queen. It would be bloody, but the potential violence against their long-time rivals was customary, expected at this point. Or maybe they'd ransack some houses along the border. Burn a sept or two, destroy some of the more important harvest fields the Bracken's relied more heavily on.  

That is what he expected to come from Daemon Targaryen's indirect orders.

But no, there would be no fighting this time. Not exactly. 

They were to exploit the Brackens weak points.

To poke repeatedly at their sore spots until they finally admitted defeat, desperate to have returned what was stolen from them. 

Davos Blackwood did not expect to have his weak point threatened as well. 

But alas, it was. His weakest point, by the name of Miss Lady Y/N Bracken, was in grave danger, and she had no idea.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

It was an unlikely friendship that bloomed when the two were young, still green and ignorant to the centuries of history between the houses they came from.

A young Davos was practicing archery down by the border stones, unaware the large rocks were truly meant for something other than the simple job of being large rocks in the middle of the open field. He was only told never to cross them by his father... who had also told him never to wander near to them unaccompanied. 

Nevertheless, here the young Blackwood stood, a crudely made target propped up against one of the stones, alone.

He pulled back the string, one eye closed, preparing to loose the arrow. His last arrow.

Maybe this one would actually hit the target. Every shot had found purchase on the fabric at least, just out along the outer border. 

He held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he let go. 

The boys eyes flew open at the sound of a high pitched squeal and the frantic rustling of leaves, like an animal caught in a bush. He soon realized that his last arrow hadn't hit the target at all, but instead flew over the stone entirely and landed somewhere in the woods on the opposite side of the border.

Had he hit an animal? Had he been such a nuisance at archery, but his luck so spectacular, he managed to miss the target by a mile yet make his first kill?

Davos was still for a moment, if he crossed the border to find the animal, his father would surly be angry with him for his disobedience, but would he be proud enough his young son managed to strike an animal that the punishment would be forgotten? 

Surely his father would be more angry when he found his son's quiver one arrow short, and even angrier when it was explained how and where it was lost. 

But just as the toe of his boot made it across the border, the rustling of the leaves returned. 

What if he hadn't killed the beast with his misfire at all? What if he had only awoken it from it's slumber, and the beast he now wished he had paid more attention to when his father and uncle spoke of the miscreants on the other side of the border was angry and on the hunt for him. 

But, rather than some large hairy creature lumbering out from the bushes, eyes glowing and drooling with bloodlust for the one who dared disturb it, he was met with a young girl. A child of his age, if not a year or two younger--it was hard to tell with the distance which still separated the two children. The baby fat, still stubbornly hanging onto the girls cheeks, didn't help either. 

She emerged slowly, eyes curious and cautious as she scanned the area before her. Back and forth, left and right, eyes hungrily eating up each and every inch of the grass, hoping to find where the wayward arrow had come from. 

Finally her gaze found his own and he found himself calling his father a liar for the first time in his life. 

She was no beast, surely there couldn't be evil creatures over there as he had said. She was far too pretty for his father's claims to be true. She looked like something divined straight from the gods themselves. 

Her hair was tangled and sweaty where the strands had fallen loose around her face, released from the intricate braided style on the back of her head. The courtly dress draped over her figure, torn and dirty at the sleeves and rips along the bottom of the skirt with mud caked in the lower fabric as if she had been running wild through the trees. A wooden practice sword lay loosely in her hand, his lost arrow held in the other. 

She may not have been perfect to everyone, but she was to him. 

She moved forward, walking slowly, making sure to glance from side to side every few steps, ensuring the two of them were the only ones in sight. She finally stopped a couple of paces before him, she raised the arrow playfully, "I believe you may've missed your target."

"Did not." he shot back immediately, kicking himself for a little for his hastiness, but too proud to let a pretty girl think he had messed up that horribly. 

She smirked, shifting slightly on her feet, "Really?" 

"Really."

"So this is not your arrow?"

"Nope."

She hummed, looking down to the obviously hand-made and well-used projectile. The body bent in a continuous curve from over use and harsh slices in the wood from where a dull knife had been used to widdle it down. She played with the feathers on the end, running the soft material between her fingers, "You sure?" 

"Positive."

She looked up, catching the gaze of the boy just an inch or two shorter than herself, "You know I can see your bow right?" she lulled, unimpressed, "No matter how hard you attempt to shift yourself in front of it, I can still see it peeking over your shoulder." she slid around the stone separating the two, leaning down to compare the arrow with the ones firmly lodged in his target, "Not to mention the arrows are from the same bunch."

Davos stayed silent, eyes narrowed at the beautiful and strange girl before him, determined not to give in.

Perhaps if he was stubborn enough, she would forget the accusation like the maids that walked the halls at Raventree did. They always gave up before too long, scurrying off back to their duties when they'd catch him doing something he wasn't meant to. 

"Well alright then," the girl shrugged carelessly, returning to her full height, no longer crouched down on her knees, "Its probably for the best these aren't yours anyway. Shoddy craftsmanship," she spoke, caressing the wood once again, "I fear a blind man may have done a better job-"

"Hey!" he cut her off, stomping forward and ripping the arrow from her gentle grip, "I spent an entire moon on these!" 

"So it is yours then?" she questioned softly, a winning smirk pulled across her face. 

Davos could feel heat rush to his cheeks, quickly causing him to hang his head, eyes focused on the pebbles sown between the blades of grass below his feet. He already embarrassed himself enough in front of this girl, he didn't need her to see his skin flush a deep crimson as well. "No."

The two children stood before each other in an awkward silence. Both not sure what exactly to say, but neither wanting to leave just yet. 

She made the first move, stepping forward and coming to a stop beside him. No longer facing the boy head-on, but rather positioned so both were looking in the direction of the target. 

"So," she began, "how'd you manage to shoot so far off anyway?" 

"'m not good at it yet" he mumbled, face still stubbornly pointed down, "'S why I'm practicin'."

"Well, try again." 

He looked up at her confused, the flush finally fading from his skin, "What?" 

"Try again" she shrugged. "You have your arrow back, so try again." 

He sputtered, about to tell the girl off for telling him what to do, but the look in her eyes made him think twice. She was so sure of herself, so determined. He couldn't leave her there like a coward, he'd already made a fool of himself, it's not like it could be any worse. 

But he was wrong.

It could be worse.

The second he let the arrow loose, it failed to hit the target again, stopping about a foot short of the stone, stuck in the grass. 

She snorted, a hand flying up to her face to conceal the noise to the best of her ability, "Do you even know how to shoot?" 

He scoffed, turning to fix her with a nasty glare, "Of course I do."

"'Ya sure?" she smiled, "Doesn't really look like it from where I'm standing" 

His glare hardened, "And what do you know of it? You're just a girl." 

She nodded once, stepping forward to retrieve the arrow from the grass as well as the one from the target, "Maybe, but my older brother has been teaching me for years." she spoke returning to his side with a grin, "And I like to think I'm quite good." 

Davos only laughed. Like a girl would ever be allowed near a weapon, there was even less of a chance one would know how to use it. 

"I'm not jesting" she insisted, eyes narrowing in annoyance, "I do know how!"

"Sure," he laughed again, shoving the bow into her hands, "Give it a shot then, why don't you." 

"Fine." she dropped one of the arrows to the floor, shoulder-checking the shorter boy as she lined herself up with the target. 

It took her all of five seconds to load the arrow, align the point, and shoot.

And she hit the fucking center of the target too. 

She turned to face him and crossed her arms over her chest, the bow held in the crook of her elbow, with a smug smirk, "Believe me now?" 

"Whatever."

"Ok," she shuffled back to him, offering the bow back, "Your turn." 

He picked the arrow up and aimed, he was about to let go when-

"Stop!" she shouted, quickly moving behind him. "Don't be so tense" she scolded, poking him in the back, "Your elbow is too high," she moved it down slightly "You use it to help aim, it doesn't always need to be completely level." She kicked the inside of his feet next, "Widen your posture, your feet are too close. It'll mess up your balance and aim." 

"Are you done?" he gritted out, teeth clenching hard against each other. His arm began to ache, straining from the tension while she twirled in circles around him, giving him a whole explanation for each detail he had wrong. 

"Almost" She laughed softly, moving to stand over his left shoulder, "Just two more things" He groaned again, but she only giggled soft at his impatience, "Keep your eyes open. It doesn't have to be both if that's uncomfortable but keep at least one. Shooting blind is practically a death sentence. Lastly, just remember to breathe." she stated simply, "Holding your breath will lock up your muscles. Be fluid, not rigid." he nodded once, relatively relaxed bar the shaking of his tired arm on the string. "Good. Now shoot." 

He let go, and watched the whole way as the arrow soared through the air, hitting the target with a satisfying 'thunk'. It didn't hit the center like hers, but it was the closest he'd come thus far, landing on the inside of the ring just off-center. 

She jumped in excitement, clapping happily as she did so, "See! You did it!" 

"I didn't." he grumbled, "It still didn't hit the center."

"No, but it's closer" she spoke, excitement for the boy still heavy on her tongue, "All you need is some practice."  She placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it softly, "You'll get there one day." 

He hummed unconvinced, he'd been practicing for almost a year at this point, and only now was he told what he was doing wrong. He doubted he'd ever master the art of archery but that was alright with him. He'd become more skilled with the sword during his training and found he enjoyed the blade over long-range anyway. 

Feeling her job complete, the arrow returned and an impromptu lesson to keep more from disturbing her peace, the girl nodded once and smiled at the boy, turning to cross back over the boundary and lift the practice sword she had abandoned on the other side. 

She was about to walk away, disappearing back into the thicket when Davos finally shook himself from his thoughts. "Wait!" he ran after her, quickly catching up to her and grabbing her wrist, "I'm Davos. Davos Blackwood." he introduced himself, annoyed he'd forgotten to do so earlier. 

She smiled, "Y/N Bracken." 

The two explored the underbrush for hours that day, picking through the bushes for berries and telling stories to one another. He soon found out her strange state of dress, was because Y/N had fled from the hall halfway through their meal. She ran, quickly escaping after overhearing her father and some lord discussing her betrothal. It would never go through of course, the Lord too upsettened by the girl's wild display to continue the conversation. 

She had fled through the hall, one of her brother's practice swords in hand and clumsily hitting the trees with it, hoping she could somehow teach herself to use the weapon so that her future would never need to be in the hands of another again. 

Upon hearing the story, he quickly offered his guidance to her, promising to bring two swords to the clearing the next day as long as she would bring better archery equipment. She would teach him the art of the bow, and he would show her the ways of the blade. 

Through their lessons with one another, they would ultimately come to the conclusion she preferred archery and he preferred steel, but both became skilled in the two practices nonetheless. 

Lessons slowly turned to practice, and practice turned to sparring until sparring gradually turned to something more over the years. 

Stolen kisses were shared in the shade of the branches. Words of affection whispered along the tall grass. Purple bruises and love bites exchanged under the cover of night and the watchful eye of the stars, easily concealed under the collars of their shirts. 

They hadn't begun knowing how divided they were due to their names, but even when they discovered it, they found the years of hatred between the houses hardly held a candle to the feelings they harbored for one another.

━─━────༺✧༻────━─━

Fear flooded his veins when the words changed from those of violence against the men and soldiers, to violence against the women. Violence against the children. Violence against her.

"It is clear that our forces no longer intimidate them," a man decorated in silver plated armor called from the crowd, "how are we to persuade them, as you say, if they no longer listen?" 

"We shall change our tactics" a dark smirk slowly formed across Willem's face as he spoke to his men, "The crown allows us grace to do what is necessary to gain the allegiance of the Brackens." the name left his lips with a sneer, as if saying the name itself caused him pain, "So, perhaps we move our gaze from those who've come to expect us." 

The excitement of the room changed from one of violent delight, to one of lustful rage. All men in the room, old and young alike, seemed to understand what was implied from the words of both their Lord and their King. All bets were off tonight, they were to take whatever—and whoever—they wished, just as long as it pushed the Brackens to surrender by morning light.

Davos stayed frozen upon the stairs while his Uncle spoke, and the men cheered before them. Many of which, boasting clearly of the prize they wished to gain. The prize that would give them pleasure that night, as well as potential favor with their Lord and Crown. The bargaining chip above all else, the very soul that would surely break the camel's back. 

For if Y/N, Lord Bracken's most favored and precious daughter, were to be stolen and sullied, the Bracken people would surely be broken as well. Surrender would be all but guaranteed. 

That's how he found himself sprinting as fast as his legs could carry him, subtly kicking rocks and twigs under the feet of his bannermen. Anything to slow them down. Anything that would allow him to get in front of them. Anything that would allow him to be the one that would reach her first. 

He'd heard the way they spoke about her. The things they wished to do to her. It all but made his blood boil, the urge to remove their tongues—or perhaps their manhood—was strong. It was what they deserved for speaking about his lady in such a matter. 

Yet he couldn't. He didn't care for his own safety, if he were to be hanged for defending his lady love's honor, he would do it a million times over. But the fact that the outcome on her could be worse if he were to confess, is what held him back.

He couldn't do anything in the bright lights of Raventree Hall, but if anyone were to come between his blade and his lady now, he cared not for what would become of them.

He'd kill a thousand Blackwoods if he must tonight. No one was going to touch her. 

When finally made it into the halls of Stone Hedge, he was out of breath and his lungs were burning. His breaths quick and labored as he gulped for air, but he couldn't stop until he knew she was safe. 

The words they levied against her echoed in his ears, filling him with a blinding rage that powered him forward, allowing the pain in his bones to evaporate from his mind. 

They spoke of her as if she were a piece of meat and nothing more. The beautiful Bracken girl ripe for the taking. The forbidden apple that was all but theirs for tonight. They spoke of how they wished to deflower her. To take her maidenhead, rip it away from her and claim it for themselves. "it's what we deserve after all the Brackens have done." he remembered hearing one say, "We deserve this." 

They didn't deserve shit. Hell, there were days Davos himself didn't believe he deserved her, if he didn't, then there was no way in hell they did. 

He tore through the halls, the anger in his soul bright enough to light the way. He abandoned his torch once he made it inside so none of the other men would be able to follow his trial. 

The screams began soon after he reached the second floor. The hushed symphony of horrific melodies carrying up the stairs and echoing down the stone halls, ebbing in on the wind through the windows of the keep, tempting Davos’ heart to beat faster in it's rhythm. 

The Blackwoods had begun their raid. He was running out of time. 

He cursed her in his mind, his beautiful girl more cautious than he, convincing him that their escapades should be confined to the secrecy the fields and forests provided. He had tried to persuade her to sneak into one of their homes, claiming she deserved the luxury and privacy of one of their bedrooms over his cloak on the harsh terrain. So she could feel the soft feather bed and furs beneath her back rather than the rough sticks and stones scratching her bare skin through the thin fabric. She always declined, arguing the need to keep their love in a place that matched that of which it was sewn from. Somewhere wild, free, and pure. 

He always laughed along with her, choosing to ignore the fear that gathered in the corners of her eyes. He knew the real reason, she was afraid they’d lose one another if they were to enter the enemy's halls, that they’d be caught and torn apart forever. So, he just laughed along and agreed full heartedly, dropping the idea so his girl could return to her usual carefree spirit. So her worries would be carried off on the chilled evening breeze, set ablaze in the light of the setting sun.

He lived for her, and if it was her wishes to stay confined in the bugs and dirt, he’d happily oblige without a complaint, even if he ended up with cuts along his palms, skin pierced by the rocks his cloak couldn’t cover as he hovered over her body in the foliage. 

But now, he was running through the large keeps halls, throwing open the doors of guestroom after guestroom in the residency hall. Panic increasing for each empty room revealed.

If she just let him come in once, if she allowed him to climb up the wall and through the window like he’d joked one evening, he’d know exactly where to go. 

Davos finally approached the last room in the hall, still no luck in finding her room. The voices of his men had increased, finally making their way to the level he stood.

And for the first time in years, Davos found himself praying. 

He wasn’t a particularly religious man and he hadn't been since his mother had ceased dragging him out weekly to worship the gods. He found himself finding solace in the heart trees for their beauty rather than religion and becoming more devout to the sword than the gods. But now, outside the heavy wooden door, he found himself praying quietly under his breath. To both the God’s he’d turned his back on and the ones she treasured. He prayed to both the Old gods and the new, that his own goddess would be sound and safe behind this very door.  

“Please” he whispered, “I know I haven’t been the most… pious over the years. I know I haven’t followed the rules you have set for the people” he laughed bitterly, “In fact, there were times I blatantly went against you just because I could. But please” he begged, feeling a burning form in the corners of his eyes, “please, I beg you, have her be behind this door. She doesn't deserve what's coming if I don't find her first. I may not believe you exist, but she does. Please don’t fail her now.” 

He rammed his shoulder into the door, the lock giving way after two sturdy blows, swinging open to reveal yet another dark, empty room. 

His heart stopped, split between the feeling of devastation and unadulterated rage. The emotions clawing their way up his throat, threatening to drown him if he didn’t release them soon. 

There had to be a mistake, she had to be here. Was he already too late? Had someone somehow managed to get ahead of him and steal her away before he arrived? It couldn’t be, he was the one to break the lock and sneak around the watch in the front of the keep. 

He wanted to scream. To curse the Gods, curse his uncle, curse himself.

But he couldn’t.

Instead, he punched the door frame, knuckles slamming into the stones and splitting open the thin skin from the force. A muffled curse left his lips, not loud enough to reveal himself to the men beginning their descent on the hall, but loud enough to reveal a sliver of the emotions pent up and burning its way through his veins. 

He was yanking at the strands of his tousled and sweaty black hair, pacing the area outside the open door. Mind racing as he contemplated what exactly he was meant to do next. 

But then he heard it. His saving grace. A muffled sound, a soft mumble coming from inside the bedroom followed by the quiet ruffling of sheets.

Davos whipped around, neck straining under the speed of which he snapped to face the inside of the chamber. There, he found it, shrouded in the shadows and tucked beneath the covers was a lump, with her beautiful, wild hair peeking out and laid upon the pillowcases.

He rushed into the room, slamming the door and bolting it behind him. 

It was the heavy slam that finally roused her from her sleep. She sat up in her bed, the white sheets falling down and resting over her legs as she did. She squinted into the darkness, unable to make out who it was but able to see the figure posted inside her room, the moonlight catching on the metal armor adorning the man before her. 

It was normal for a maid to come into her room, accidentally wake her in the later hours as they entered her chambers to gather things they had unknowingly left behind earlier in the day. It was strange for a knight or watchman to enter, on the eve of a gathering or a feast at the keep where her father had invited many guests a guard may be placed outside her rooms but never inside. 

“Sir?” she spoke, voice soft and confused, roughed slightly by sleep, “What is—” 

She wasn’t able to finish her question in full before the man hurtled himself at her. In a panicked haste she reached to her bedside, reaching for the heavy silver candle holder on the table, whacking the man repeatedly when he became close enough. 

“Fuck!” the man yelled, stepping back when she jumped up from the bed, swinging the candle holder before her. He reached up, one hand poorly acting as a shield before him while the other went to his brow, touching the now split skin from where she managed to strike him.

“Damn you woman” he yelled half playful and half serious, a proud smirk resting on his lips despite himself. Maybe his love didn’t need him to protect her after all. “I’m just tryin’ to help you!”

Y/N dropped the candlestick in an instant, immediately recognizing the voice that often found its way into her dreams and day to day thoughts, “Davos?” she whispered, now rushing forward, pulling him down by the neck to get a better look at the gash she’d made. “Gods, I’m so so sorry” she muttered, delicate fingers running over his brow bone and assessing the damage in the dim light provided by the moon, so focused on Davos’ injury, she failed to notice the soft smile tugging at his lips, “you–you just startled me. I’m not exactly expecting visitors in the middle of the night.” her brow crinkled in confusion, wiping away a streak of mud on his forehead and brushing through the sweat-soaked hair falling over his forehead, “And why on Earth do you look like you crawled through the riverbeds to get here?” 

He laughed, exhausted and relieved to see her standing before him. Davos reached out, grasping her elbows softly, proving to himself she was real. That he did make it in time after all. “I mean, not exactly, but that's close enough.”

She stepped back, eyes wide as saucers. Her sleep muddled mind, finally beginning to catch up with what was going on. Part of her thought it was all part of some strange dream, getting attacked in the late hours and suddenly her forbidden lover is standing before her in her bedroom. 

But it wasn’t a dream. This was real. So what in the seven hells is he doing here?

“You can’t be here!” she whispered harshly, “I–What? Davos, you need to go.” she sputtered rushing to open the door and shove him out, ushering him back off to raventree, “My father could–” 

He reached out, catching her wrist and yanking her back away from the door harsh enough her back crashed into his chest. 

“What–” 

“Stop.” he cut her off, spinning Y/N around so they faced one another, “You can’t open the door.” 

Her eyes grew even wider at his words, fear slipping into her gaze and he hated himself for being the one to put it there, “Why not?” a crash erupted not far down the hall, the sound of one of the vases clattering and shattering down onto the floor followed by a group of men, maybe three or four at least, cackling. She jumped, clinging onto his arms, her grip tight and nails cutting into his skin, “Davos? What’s happening? What’s going on?”

He looked anxiously up at the door as the footsteps grew louder, shifting Y/N and holding onto her with one arm while the other drifted to hold the pommel of his sword, “It’s a long story.” 

“Care to share the summary then?” she bit out at him, but her words were less harsh than she intended, the fear coating the statement making it far less intimidating than she’d prefer. 

“You’re in danger.” 

“Well, yeah, I kinda gathered that.” 

“This is the only one we haven’t checked,” they heard a deep voice say from through the wooden door. “Ya’ think its this one?”

“It’s gotta be” another spoke, tone giddy in a horrific kind of excitement, “It’s the last on the hall, surely the Bracken Brat is in here.” 

Davos spun on his heel, looking into her eyes with such intensity Y/N was unsure if she wanted to run or drop to her knees, “I have an idea. I need you to play along.” she nodded immediately, she trusted him with her life. Davos smiled softly, leaning down to place a long, tender kiss on her forehead, “Just remember I love you, ok? I’ll explain later, I promise.” she nodded once more, lifting on her toes to place a soft kiss on his cheek. 

His gaze hardened a harsh sneer screwing up his features, the grip he held on her wrist tightening, “Stop struggling! I already told you, you can’t worm your way out of this one Bracken.” 

Y/N turned, swiping her arm across her vanity, a collection of glass jars and pots tumbling from the surface and crashing to the floor, “No!” she screamed, “I won’t! You can’t make me!”

The noise from the hall silenced, and both Y/N and Davos smiled. It was working. 

“Oh,” he laughed darkly, walking her closer to the door, both of them taking turns at shoving the furniture to fake the struggle, “I most definitely can–”

“My father–”

“Fuck your father” he sneered, reaching up and helping her mess up her hair further than the slight bedhead she still had, and stretching out the neck of her pale nightgown. He then grabbed her robe, throwing it haphazardly over one of her shoulders, “He can’t help you now, the Blackwoods are taking our revenge. The Brackens will finally fall once and for all.” and with that he swung open the door, tightening his grip on her wrists to drag her through the door frame. 

“What’s this?” Y/N laughed, overexaggerating her breathing to further fake the strain of the struggle as she faced the four men outside her door, “Is Willem Blackwood's little nephew so incompetent they needed to send four men just to make sure he could get the job done?” she snarked, trying to pull herself out of Davos’ grip. 

He growled, spinning her around and yanking her back against his chest, caging the girl in with his arms tight around her waist and arms. “What do you want?” he spoke, ignoring Y/N and looking directly at the men. 

“We were coming to get her,” One spoke up, gesturing at the girl with his sword, “but it seems we missed all the fun.” 

“Nah,” another added, stepping forward gleefully and running a hand over Y/N’s hair, “he just caught her, we can still get a turn later boys.” he smirked cruelly, dirty fingers dropping down to caress her soft skin. 

Y/N shifted at the Blackwood soldier's words, glancing up and seeing the expressions of sick joy on the other’s faces at his statement.

So this is why Davos had broken into her room. She could hear the sounds of what could be happening to her from the maids down the stairs, but no, Davos had reached her first. 

She moved slightly, subtly pushing more of her weight against his chest, seeking comfort in the small gestures, that he wouldn’t let that happen to her. He gripped her tighter when she did, to both assure her she would always be safe with him, and to keep him from relieving the men before them of their heads. 

“It’s just a shame young Davos beat us,” the youngest of them, a man looking to be in his late thirties, whined, “I had plans of all the ways I wanted to take her and ruin her for the first time. See her scream as I–”

“No.” Davos grit out, cutting the man off swiftly, clenching his jaw harshly between his words and a glare that could cut through iron shifting among the four men “None of that will be happening. She is mine. She is my prize for tonight.” 

“But–”

“No!” he yelled, sneering at the men, “I am the nephew of Lord Blackwood, you will not disobey me and my claim. I fought and won her. I claimed her. She is mine. My prisoner and I am not keen on sharing.” 

Y/n did her best to keep up the act. To keep the look of fear and anger on her face and struggle to get out of his grip. But something about those words and his tone of voice made her melt inside. She knew they weren’t all true, she wasn't a prisoner, but something about the way he proclaimed her as his made her think it wasn’t far from his true feelings. 

“I will be the one taking her back to Raventree. Go find something else. You will not be laying a single finger on her, am I clear?” The four men begrudgingly nodded their heads, walking back down the hall with wounded egos.

Davos “dragged” Y/n all the way through Stone Hedge and back out the main door. He found an abandoned horse not far from the gate and quickly helped her up on the saddle. 

“You’re really taking me to Raventree?” Y/n whispered as he too, hauled himself on the horse, settling behind her. His arms wrapped around her to grasp the reins. 

“Well I kinda have to” he responded playfully, words hushed into her ear, his breaths tickling her skin, “Wouldn’t make much sense for me to take a prisoner and release her that quickly now would it?” 

“So that’s all I am to you huh?” she hummed as they made their way through the trees, the cold night air pebbling her skin through the sheer nightwear, “just a prisoner?” 

He leaned down, kissing her shoulder, “Nah, you're much more than that.” 

“You sure?” 

Davos bit at her ear, watching with a smirk as she shivered, one she’d surely claim was from the cold, “I’m Positive.” 

They reveled in the moment of relief and playful joy that encompassed them on the journey back. They both knew it wouldn’t be before long when the reality of the situation would set in. The fear would return to her bones and he would need to fully explain in detail what was going on. They would need to come up with a plan on how to move forward. 

But for now, it was just the two of them riding through their forest on horseback. 

Davos swore he would be there for her when it came time for her to shatter. When she would feel safe enough to cry for the fate of her people who couldn’t be saved as she had once they found their way to his chambers for the night, and however many after Y/N Bracken was to be a “prisoner” at Raventree.

He swore that when she broke into millions of tiny pieces, he would be there with hands ready to bleed as he held her tight and helped put all the shards back together in the intricate puzzle that was her soul. 

He would always be there for her. He would always protect her.

He swore it upon the old gods and the new.

[fallenclan]

Would you like to explain more what is behind those reactions in the latest comic? I mean those panels with Littleleaf ect. What are they feeling and why?

(Love the expressions btw)

sure :)

-Kestrelfeather (61 moons, he/him) He's happy for Wolfbite! That's his best friend and he was probably let in on a lot of the information that Wolf got regarding Ravenstar's murderings, so he's not only happy that Wolfbite succeeded her mission, but also that Ravenstar is toast lol

-Ospreyswipe (113 moons, he/him) Very similar reasons as Kestrel, he's Feathersight's mate and he knew most of what was going on, so he's happy that Ravenstar isn't leader anymore and he's also happy that Feathersight finally completed the mission he'd been on for years

-Myrtleclaw (112 moons, any pronouns) & Juniperfoot (113 moons, she/they) Myrtle and Juniper were Sandsnap's mates. Not only are they filled with a mix of grief and joy at seeing Sandsnap's murder avenged, they're also feeling a lot of emotion seeing their daughter, Wolfbite, be the Big Hero. They probably weren't let in on what was happening, but they're relieved she's okay nevertheless.

-Littleleaf (83 moons, he/him) His brother, whom he dearly loved, who was only ever loving and kind to him, just died. How do you think he's feeling?

-Darkstone (38 moons, he/they) Overjoyed. Darkstone has always had a bit of a mean/slightly bloodthirsty streak, so while most of the cats watching this have an undercurrent of "oh shit that guy just died horribly", he's just kind of laughing about it. If he could hold pompoms he'd be doing a little dance about it

-Honeysong (53 moons, she/her) She's in pain and exhausted but she's also very happy that Ravenstar isn't leader anymore. She's also a pacifist and somewhat disturbed by Ravenstar's gory death, so she's hiding her face in Darkstone's fur as well as using him as physical support.

-Feathersight (112 moons, he/she/they) Relief. He's known something was wrong since Ravenstar became a warrior and he's carried the burden of Poppyfeather, Cherrystar, & Sandsnap's murders with him for so long, knowing that he's been one of the main forces bringing Ravenstar down has made him more stress-free than he's been since he was a young cat. He will be breaking down in tears later that night.

-Flamefall (72 moons, he/him) Shock. Awe. Grief. Ravenstar was his friend for longer than he was his enemy, so there's a definite feeling of sadness within him at seeing that cat die, but he was afraid of Ravenstar for a long, long time, and seeing that cat be taken down is. Really something. He's felt irredeemable for many moons, and knowing that this wouldn't have happened without him is bringing a new light into his life.

-Mistlefrost (107 moons, he/him) & Inkynose (40 moons, she/her) Mistlefrost and Inkynose were two cats who were punished for speaking up about Ravenstar's actions. They both have a little bit of a vengeful streak, so they're reveling in seeing a cat who made them suffer suffer. They're also both extremely loyal to Fallenclan, so they're overjoyed to see the world realign itself.

-Patchback (105 moons, she/her) Patchback was one of Ravenstar's most loyal followers. She was kicked out of her old clan for being too cruel, so when she joined Fallenclan she kept it all on the down-low. Then comes Ravenstar, a cat with the same ideals as her who praises her for her strength. Her ability to put her clanmates in their place. Now that cat is gone. She's grieving and furious.

-Levi (109 moons, he/him) Levi is a cat that follows power wherever it goes, and he just watched his chance at leadership get thrown out of the window. He was loyal to Ravenstar, sure, because that was his best option of getting to where he wanted to be. He saw Ravenstar die, adjusted, made an attempt, and realized very quickly that without Ravenstar to back him up, he wasn't much of anything.

-Sleepydawn (74 moons, he/they) Sleepydawn was resistant to Ravenstar's loyalty at first, but a little manipulation brought him right around. Before he knew it, he was doing whatever Ravenstar told him, desperate for the validation and ignoring his family as they tried to pull him away. Ravenstar was his pillar of support--Sleepydawn did what he said because he was the clan leader. It was the right thing to do because he was the clan leader. Now, he wasn't the clan leader anymore. What does that mean for Sleepydawn?

-Bearspring (56 moons, she/her) After her mother, Cherrystar, died, Bearspring was left with a gaping wound. She was bitter at the loss, and angry, and Ravenstar, who had always been a good friend to her mother, took her under his wing and taught her ways to get that anger out. She was loyal to him, unfailingly, and then her mother's ghost appeared and said that she was murdered. And then Ravenstar died in front of her. There's a lot going on inside her head right now, but the largest emotion is probably guilt. She thinks she's been betraying her mother all this time.

-Marshjump (56 moons, he/she) Marshjump is Bearspring's brother. He never fell under Ravenstar's paws, always too soft-hearted and relying on his father more than anyone, but he saw how his sister did. He didn't know the extent of Ravenstar's cruelty until now, when he saw his mother's ghost. Now, not only does he see that, but he sees his sister, trembling in guilt and rage and grief, and knows he has a chance now to bring her back to him. He's grieving, but he also feels shock and joy and terror.

also bearspring. lmao

[nanaosaki3940]

Korean Manhwa/Webtoon Recommendation List (Romance-Fantasy Genre)

I recently got into the romance-fantasy (rofan) genre of Korean manhwa/webtoons and wanted to make a recommendation list about it. This is a recommendation list but I want to briefly talk about some newly released rofan manhwa that I really liked.

(My recommendation list will be divided into different categories so you'll be able to understand what kind of stories they are...)

So recently, I got into these newly released rofan manhwas:

The Wicked Ladies in Waiting 

The Promise Isn't Mine 

Turning the Mad Dog into a Genteel Lord 

Fallen to Paradise 

I Swear We're Just Friends 

Please Don’t Reply!

High Society 

The Wicked Ladies in Waiting

Yulia, who was born an orphan, was killed in exchange for falling in love with the Young Master of the Marjoram Family and was left on a snowy mountain. But when she opened her eyes, at the same location as any other day, she was rescued by the Commander of the Imperial Army, Carus. She was hit by a curse of being unable to die, and this is now her 8th life. After realizing that she would be stuck in the loop forever if she didn't take down the Marquis, she became a servant (2nd prince's lady-in-waiting) within the Palace to utilize the Royal Family’s power to demolish the Marjoram Family in her 8th life. I really love both the FL and the ML here. At first, the ML was suspicious of her when she revealed the truth to him in her 8th life that she had regressed back to the past 8 times, and each and every time she died in various ways, she encountered the ML and he somehow always tried to save her each and every life (even though he doesn't have the memories of his previous 7 lives like the FL). To make him believe her, she offered him help by predicting some future events that were going to occur later on because she had already seen or known about those events from her previous 7 lives. In this way, the FL saved the ML and his comrades' lives in this 8th life, and because of that the ML believed her regression story and offered to help her lifetime. Their relationship progressed well from suspicious strangers to trustful allies. Although we haven't seen much of them yet, I'm still waiting for some romance and fluff to happen in their relationship. The 2nd prince whom she works for and the 1st lady-in-waiting who is her colleague are also interesting characters and have immediately become the FL's good friends and strong allies just like the ML. The FL is strong, smart, and lovable, and the whole revenge plot is really interesting. You would love to see her succeed in her missions. Highly recommend this manhwa/webtoon.

The Promise Isn't Mine

When her twin sister Leyla, the Holy Maiden, suddenly disappears one day, the ordinary Elena finds herself having to marry Crown Prince Kyle, a man infamous for his ruthlessness, in her stead. After a dreadful marriage ceremony, Kyle demands that a certain promise be fulfilled, to Elena’s confusion. Elena and Kyle are actually childhood sweethearts btw. They've both been in love with each other since their younger days. The ML immediately realized who she was, but she didn't recognize him; although she does vaguely remember him from her past, but doesn't know that the man she married is the same boy from her teenage days. I can't wait for her to realize who he actually is; that he's her childhood sweetheart. Also, it's kinda funny how the ML and FL look like Iske and Ruby from "How To Win Over My Husband". However, this ML is a whole lot different from Iske since the ML is genuinely nice, kind, and caring towards the FL from day one. And not to mention that he's still in love with her and immediately recognizes her after meeting her so many years later again. Highly recommend this series.

Turning the Mad Dog into a Genteel Lord

Diarin, a priestess without any noteworthy family background or connections, always gets the toughest assignments. So when her boss tells her to help Ceres, a war hero, reintegrate into society, she decides to stop being a pushover and get as much as she can out of it, including a juicy promotion. But upon reaching Ceres’ manor, she’s greeted by a growling hound instead of a human. Tasked with the impossible job of turning the mad dog into a proper gentleman, she dedicates herself to caring for him. But his unexpected obsession with her was never part of her plan. This one is my No. 1 personal favorite at the current moment!! You can tell by the pictures how funny and hilarious this series is. I won't tell you guys anything more. Just go and read this one as quick as possible!! STRONGLY recommend this series!!!

Fallen to Paradise

Ange, the daughter of Duke Glaster, believes her life is all planned out as she is set to marry Philip Cardiner, the rightful heir to the throne. However, her plans are disrupted when Philip's brother, William Cardiner, schemes against him and removes him from the line of succession. In order to secure his power, William forces Ange to marry Aiden Fitzroy, an illegitimate child born between the emperor and a commoner. Will Ange learn to love the humble stranger she was forced to marry? Another hilarious yet very cute manhwa!! At first, the FL didn't like the fact that she was getting married off to the illegitimate son of the emperor and that the ML lived in the countryside and was also a farmer. The ML also found her a nuisance in the beginning because of her whining and throwing tantrums, but as time went on and they started to understand each other, they began to fight less and tried to get along. Romance also started to blossom between the two as they went on with their lives in the countryside on the farm by planting crops and vegetables and raising cows and pigs. I love how the FL, who was the Duke's daughter and was once the next crown princess, is now just a military officer/farmer's wife, and yeah sure, in the beginning, she used to complain about everything and anything, but she quickly went through a major character development, and now instead of whining and throwing tantrums, she tries to understand her husband and even willingly participates in the farming works. The ML was cold at first and found her annoying, but eventually he also later tried to understand her and her situation and started warming up to her. Very cute manhwa!! Highly recommend this!!

I Swear We're Just Friends

When Rienne transfers to the elite Alena Academy, she never expects Karcion, the most popular mage in school, to recruit her into his club and she definitely doesn't think he'll fall for her! But the grumpy Karcion soon makes it clear how much he adores her, and she starts finding him too cute to ignore. Still, he's a future duke and she's a commoner, so Rienne knows his feelings won't last. Can Karcion magic his way out of the friendzone? Or will Rienne prove they're just friends after all? A typical high school setting kinda story with enemies to lovers troupe; the only twist is that it's a historical fantasy story, not your typical modern high school romance. The FL is a cool smart girl and I loved her from the start. Meanwhile, at first, the ML is also shown to be this cool smart dude and is very popular in school but later it is revealed that he's actually a big tsundere crybaby and is very expressive when showing emotions which makes the FL want to tease him more and more whenever they interact. Since it's a high school romance in a historical fantasy setting, it has a different spin to it and has made the read very much enjoyable which was unexpected. Definitely check this one out! Highly recommend this series.

Please Don't Reply!

What’s worse than someone who leaves you on read? How about someone who doesn’t know when to end the conversation? Mira Hexen is cursed to always be the last one to reply for a whole year or she will be turned to stone. But that’s a bit difficult when you’re the chief of a company that produces a massively successful messaging device. Mira’s latest VIP client is Euryx Deyra, an extremely friendly duke who feels the need to respond to every little thing she says. If only she could just tell him to shut up already...! By reading the synopsis you can already tell where this story is going. Read only 4 chapters and found it really cute, funny, and wholesome. Definitely worth checking out. Highly recommend this as well!!

High Society

While scheming to get out of an arranged marriage, Cesare runs into Adele, a shoeshine girl from the slums. The two make a 3-month deal to help Cesare elude marriage. However, Adele is so different from the women he's met before that he can't help but be drawn to her. Okay, so this series might not be everyone's cup of tea since the ML is a super red flag, and the FL is kinda like a doormat. Sure she fights back from time to time, but since she's under a contract with the ML and he's the Duke of a powerful ducal family, she always can't say anything she wants to him. At first, the ML didn't care that much about her and didn't see her as a woman with whom he could have a potential romantic relationship but as time went on, he fell more for her beauty and personality, but there was a problem - the ML had already introduced the FL to the high society that she was his blood-related little sister. Now how could he have a romantic relationship with his so-called "blood-related little sister"? The thing is, the ML was trying to get out of this arranged marriage alliance that was set with this crazy woman from another powerful ducal family. But this marriage alliance was very important for political reasons and also to maintain a good relationship between those two families in the empire. But the ML didn't want to marry that crazy woman, so he found the FL (who was willing to help him out btw) on the streets one day, took her in, and used her as a shield to stay away from that marriage. How so? By offering the FL as the bride of that crazy woman's little brother. The FL would get married off to that crazy woman's brother while the ML won't have to marry that crazy woman anymore, and therefore with that, the alliance would still be made between the families without him getting married, of course. But what is he gonna do about this situation now that he's falling for the FL? Is he gonna let the FL go and let her get married to that crazy woman's little brother? Or is he gonna seduce her and make her his and only his?? The ML is super toxic and a huge red flag, but he's so fucking beautiful that I just can't, y'all!!! Like, look at his dimples OMG!!! Although the ML is super toxic and a major scumbag at times, the story is still super engaging not gonna lie. Highly recommend this to check it out!!

Also, here's the link to the photo gallery of Cesare Bonaparte, a toxic yet sexy and beautiful male lead - Link

Now the entire recommendation list I mentioned earlier:

Regression Genre (the FL goes back to the past):

The Fantasie of a Stepmother 

The Redemption of Earl Nottingham

Marriage of Convenience 

Baroness Goes on Strike 

Please Marry Me Again!

June Peach

Saving My Sweetheart 

My Sweet Enemy, Thy Name is Husband

I'm the Queen in This Life

I Am the Real One

The Contracted Grand Duchess 

The Villainess Lives Again 

The Taming of the Tyrant

Leveling Up My Husband to the Max

Why Are You Obsessed With Your Fake Wife? 

Adeline's Darkest Night

I Tamed My Ex-husband’s Mad Dog 

The Empress of Ashes 

The Tyrant Wants to Be Good 

The Duke's Bored Daughter is My Master 

Rewriting My Husband's Tragic Ending 

You Mustn't, Your Majesty! 

I Shall Master This Family 

My In-Laws Are Obsessed With Me 

The Villain’s Daughter Plans To Run Away 

The Grand Duke is Mine 

Seducing the Lady's Lover 

The Villainess Needs Her Tyrant 

Crazy Like a Fox 

So I Married the Abandoned Prince 

While I'm Back in Time, I'll Get My Revenge 

Are We Still in Love? 

I Accidentally Tamed the Duke 

I’m Done Being Your Best Friend 

I Tamed the Male Lead Who Tried to Kill Me 

The Villainess's Road to Revenge 

The Villainess Behind the Mask

The Crimson Lady

Please Obsess Over Me

Let Me Die in Peace!

Libera Me

What the Duke Picked Up in the Forest

Peony: Dreaming of the Dangerous Grand Duke

Reincarnation/Transmigration Genre (the FL is reincarnated/transmigrated into a novel/webtoon/otome game)

I Am the Villain (Sejji) 

My Little Tyrant

Secret Lady 

Not Your Typical Reincarnation Story

The Villainess is a Marionette

Author of My Own Destiny

Father, I Don't Want this Marriage

The Monster Male Lead Living Under My Bed

Behold the True Villainess

Beware the Villainess!

Villains are Destined to Die

I Fell Into a Reverse Harem Game!

I Met The Male Lead in Prison

An Extra Stole the Male Leads

I Will Become the Villain's Poison Taster

Elissa's Whirlwind Marriage

Fortune-Telling Lady

How to Win My Husband Over

The Villainess's Maker

Viola Tames the Duke

The Beloved Bashful Villainess

My Ray of Hope

Who Made Me a Princess?

The Heiress's Double Life

The Villainess's Blind Date Is Too Perfect

Why Raeliana Ended up at the Duke's Mansion

Writing My Male Lead's Happily Ever After 

Villain Duke's Precious One

My Sister Picked Up the Male Lead

I Bought Land, Not a Man!

Just the Male Lead's Friend

The Villainess Flips the Script!

I Met the Male Lead in Prison

The Viridescent Tiara

Philomel the Fake

I Married the Male Lead's Dad

The Villainess's Stationery Shop

The Rules of Rose Ivy Manor

The Tyrant's Only Perfumer

Your Ultimate Love Rival

I Hold the Tyrant's Heart

I’ll Become the Heroine in This Life

I Became the Tyrant's Dishonest Adviser

Divorcing My Tyrant Husband

Contractual Marriage to a Surly Duke

It Was Love at First Sight, Mr. Villain! 

Lia's Bad Ending

The Villainess Just Wants To Live In Peace!

How to Tame the Merciless Villain 

Grand Duke of the North 

The Monster Duke Mistook Me for His Wife

The Fake Saintess Awaits Her Exit 

The Terminally Ill Villainess Refuses Adoption 

Wicked No More 

I Became the Young Villain’s Sister-In-Law 

I Became the Villain's Mother 

I Became the Mother of the Evil Male Lead 

The Sea Captain's Bride 

Living as the Villain’s Stepmother 

The Rewards of Marriage

Flirting with The Villain's Dad

Childcare Diary With the Villain 

I Became The Stepmother Of An Irrevocable Dark Family

Beloved by the Male Lead's Nephew

I Ended Up Raising the Children of the Female Lead and Male Lead 

I've Become a True Villainess 

I Didn't Mean to Seduce the Male Lead!

Becoming the Obsessive Male Lead's Ex-Wife

My Personal Favorite Transmigration Stories:

Kill The Villainess

Charming the Duke of the North

The Strong Empress:

Remarried Empress 

I Abdicate My Title of Empress

FL as Knights:

The Age Of Arrogance 

The Night Without Shadows 

Runaway mothers:

How to Hide the Emperor's Child

The Vanished Duchess

Smutty or Spicy Goods:

Please Kill My Husband

Winter Wolf

Beast’s Flower 

Tempting My Salvation 

The Bondservant

Toxic MLs:

My Husband Who Hates Me Has Lost His Memories

Bitten By The Dog I Abandoned

The Mistress Runs Away 

The Problematic Prince 

Others:

I Belong to House Castielo

Obsidian Bride

It Was All a Mistake

My Secretly Hot Husband 

Taming the Marquess 

Royal Marriage

Lady Evony

A Royal Princess with Black Hair

When You're in Love

Raising My Fiancé with Money

Catherine's Key to a Happy Life 

Lips Upon a Sword's Edge 

Little Rabbit and the Big Bad Leopard

I Stan the Prince

Becoming the Lady of the Cursed Ducal House

Betrayal of Dignity 

My Beloved Oppressor 

Your Eternal Lies

What It Means To Be You

Lies Become You

The Psycho Duke and I 

From BFF to Obsessive Hubby

I Listened to My Husband and Brought In a Lover

My Husband Changes Every Night

The Elegant Sea of Savagery

My Unexpected Marriage 

Seducing the Monster Duke

The Duke's Cursed Charm

Here Comes the Silver Spoon! 

I Don’t Want to Be a Lady

Married to a Duke Called Beast

I Don't Love You Anymore

Disobey The Duke If You Dare

When Fate Finds Us 

Like A Wind On A Dry Branch 

The Price of a Broken Engagement

My Three Tyrant Brothers

Searching for My Father 

A Tipsy Marriage Proposal for the Emperor

The Villainess Empress's Attendant 

Trash Will Always Be Trash

The Last Straw

Carnephelia's Curse is Never Ending

To My Husband's Mistress 

Go Away, Romeo 

Ones that came out this 2024, but I haven't check them out yet (but I will do it very soon...):

A Beast Swallowed by a Flower

Traces of the Moon

I Was Tricked Into a Fraudulent Marriage by the Obsessive Villain

An Unexpected Proposal

No, I Only Seduced the Princess?

Until The Real One Shows Up

I’m Unmarried With a Time-Limited Lover

The Youngest is Trying to Prevent the End of the World

Reasons for Avoiding the Perfect Guy

Confined Together with the Horror Game’s Male Lead

I Became The Tutor of The Royal Twins

Till Divorce Do Us Apart

I Thought You Were A Time-Limited Husband

Now Come and Regret

The Villainess Captured the Grand Duke

Corrupting the Heroine’s First Love

[slackerlifewhere]

Involving kids in battles

There are a lot of opinions about Cale Henituse, formerly known as Kim Rok Soo. Some readers love him and some readers don't. Some find him funny and some think he's annoying. Some see his selflessness and some judge him as selfish.

He's a very complex character that is just tired of the bullshit the gods did to a lot of people including himself.

But the one thing that some readers do not like about him is how he includes kids in wars and battles against multiple powerful threats.

I've made a post about female characters that slightly mentions this. It can be found during On's part in the post if you're curious.

So here's the thing about the kids in TCF, or rather, the kids in Cale's group. They're strong in different ways.

And most of them, excluding Lily and Basen, are not humans.

To understand why I think their presence in battles are okay, let me first bring up Kim Rok Soo's past to understand the way he thinks.

As we all know, at least the ones who finished the first book, Kim Rok Soo did not have the best life. His parents died from a car accident when he was young and he was left to his abusive uncle. He was mostly alone with no connections to other people (for reasons you need to read about if you haven't yet) until the apocalypse (when he was a young part-timer) happened where he had to survive by himself until he became a member of a team with different abilities. He was a member who had to fight and watch people die when he was young until he's 36 years old.

He doesn't have a normal life and childhood.

'Kim Rok Soo had once had to starve in the past. He did not enjoy seeing children looking so skinny. Although Lock had always looked feeble and his tall height made him skinny from the start, he seemed even thinner now.' - Chapter 234: Something Obvious (3)

So if a person who grew up under these circumstances is suddenly thrusted into another world where anyone can die easily, what would he do?

Basen and Lily

His first reaction to the idea of Basen being sent to the plaza where Cale knows a tragedy might happen, is to agree with Deruth's idea of replacing Basen, knowing full well that his younger brother will not come back completely fine, especially since he's a normal kid. He chose to sacrifice his safety for a brother he barely knows since he recently just got transmigrated in this strange world. Basen is more fit to help in their territory than to fight in battles. And he does not see this as a weakness.

When Lily asks for a sword instead of a normal toy a child of her age would normally want, he easily agrees. This is a kid who wants to learn how to fight. He knows that there will be war coming to Roan Kingdom and their territory will be the first to face this danger. So the idea of her learning how to fight, with the mindset of someone who survived in an apocalypse, made him agree without complaints.

Raon Miru

Fast forward and he gained the trust of three children who are harmed by a tribe and a cruel noble. He pities them but also understands their pain at the same time, especially after everything he went through. He knows coddling them would not make things better since they already know how harsh the world is.

Raon is a baby dragon but he's stronger than all of the people in his group, except Eruhaben. He's a kid who easily talks about destroying the world if Cale doesn't wake up after fainting. He's a kid who wants revenge against Venion and he never let go of that anger even when he was freed by Cale and his group. He knows he's stronger than Cale and does not want to leave this "weak" human despite the strong enemies they face.

But Cale, even with this thought of "putting him to use" at first, told him to hide himself in all battles and when around strangers.

Even though he knows Raon can fight, it's obvious the little dragon will face potential problems if everyone knows there's a dragon in the group. Arm would do everything to get Raon and bring him to DHB, the nobles would probably become greedy, a lot of people will rely on him for things he shouldn't even need to do, and Raon will never be truly free from all the expectations placed on him.

He could leave Raon with Elves and Eruhaben but considering what Arm did to the elves, Eruhaben's lair, and Olienne, there are no safe places to leave him.

Cale gave him the freedom of choice. He can live freely as a dragon without trusting a human. He was fully confident that Raon will not follow him. But he did. So Raon is his responsibility now.

I made a post about liking both Cale and Reigen Arataka and I can honestly see their similarities in this part. They know the kid with them is stronger than them but they also know that fully placing all the responsibilities and expectations on this kid will ruin them.

He, like Reigen, tells his kids that it's okay to run when facing a strong opponent. That it's okay to rely and let the adults handle the hard part of the battle. He respects and relies on them when necessary and pulls them back when they face real danger.

When the White Star first appeared, Cale's first instinct was to hide Raon in his arms and to defend themselves from the man. He was also prepared to fight until Eruhaben appeared. No matter how much Raon wanted to fight, Cale kept hiding him and was genuinely scared for the dragon.

So yes, he cares for the kids in his own way but doesn't treat them in a patronizing manner.

On and Hong

Like I've mentioned in my other post, On and Hong also did not have a great childhood. They were chased from their tribe who wanted to kill them because they're "useless" and mutants.

They did not trust anyone until they met Cale who says one thing and does the opposite. They placed their trust on Cale who may appear indifferent and cold but seems to care for them by giving them bread, medicine, and meat without having expectations from them.

Some readers might find it distasteful but it's obvious that they want to be useful, no matter how small their contribution is to the fight. I think the term "useful" makes it cruel but for them, it's something to be proud of. When he first uses this term, it's when they were saving Raon. But his next instinct was to check if they're okay after infiltrating the cave.

Is it bad to let these kids fight after they escaped death? Yes and no.

They should be safe, away from harm or danger. That's normal to think about children and I agree they need safety like normal children. But once again, these kids aren't human and they are in a different world from us. They grew up in a tribe that expects them to be strong so in every opportunity, they look for ways to be strong.

That's not exactly a normal kid's way of thinking.

And again, Cale's initial indifference to everything around him is the extension of what his former life did to his psyche. He's not a normal person either. None of these characters are normal. Oddly enough, the most normal are Litana and Valentino.

And in all honesty, knowing how he thinks and respects someone's needs and wants, if they want to stay away from danger or stop fighting, there is no doubt he would accept their wishes and let them hide somewhere far away from Arm. But like Raon, they want to fight back against the tribe who wants them dead. In a sense, they also want revenge and to prove everyone that they've become strong.

Lock and the Wolf children

Lock is still a young boy, no matter how much he shoulders after the death of his tribe. I still see him as a kid like Basen.

When Lock was having troubles during the war, Cale did not scold him. Instead, he encouraged him to eat since he noticed how Lock hasn't been eating since he first learned he can't use his berserk form. He told him that he did not need to fight. His only role was to stand and protect Raon. Simple but it made Lock feel relieved and happy that Cale didn't get angry at him for being weak.

I see it as Cale just wanting him to step back and get stronger, to rely on the rest of the adults and to not worry about regressing. I can only imagine what Kim Rok Soo went through to be so wise about this kind of situation.

This part is one of the most memorable to me because of what happens at the end of the battle,

'I am the adult.

I am the guardian of these two children.

I need to take full responsibility since I chose to take them in.

I need the Super Rock's power.'

Cale, despite all his inner complaints and initial reluctance about how he's suddenly involved in a group of children's safety and protection, finally admitted how important it is that he takes full responsibility of those he took in. And the way he does it is by "sacrificing" himself.

When Lock finally overcome his fear and was about to protect Cale, Cale got annoyed and said,

"Children grow up so fast" with a pat on Lock's head.

He sounded like a father or an uncle who was proud of Lock for overcoming his obstacles. This one scene among multitudes of others made me recognize how much he cares for these children. It's happening mid-battle but it doesn't detracts the emotional value but only increases it. It was another reason why I find Cale Henituse so interesting and mesmerizing.

Conclusion

Cale Henituse, for all his self-hatred and low self-esteem, does not bring down a child or person's confidence. He gives them the choice to become strong and protects them when they're weak.

He does not force them to do anything they can't or don't want to do. He knows what he went through as Kim Rok Soo is bad and he doesn't want them to go through the same thing.

Reading between the lines made me see that there's something deeper than what Cale shows.

___

I'm not gonna lie, I sound like Clopeh at some parts whenever I write like this. I felt the same when I was writing about the female characters lmao

I'm sorry if this is so long 😅 I became too passionate about this topic. I understand the people who are worried about the kids but this is still my opinion about it.

[tennessoui]

Sooo I know you have another essay to write buuuut when you have time, could you do #25? Please and thank you!!!

Good luck with getting your essay done!! 🥰

here you go!

[from this list of prompts]

[2. 'have you lost your damn mind?' - 5. 'are you jealous' - 13. 'kiss me.' - 14. 'hey, i'm with you, okay? always.' - 18. 'this is the stupidest plan you've ever had. of course i'm in.' - 19. 'the paint is supposed to go where?' - 22. 'i've seen the way you look at me when you think i don't notice' (LATEST) - 24. 'you're the only one i trust to do this' - 27. 'i'm pregnant' - 28. 'marry me?' - 29. 'i thought you were dead' - 32. 'i think i'm in love with you and i'm terrified' - 37. 'wanna dance?' - 44. 'if you die, i'm gonna kill you' - 41. 'you did all of this for me?' - 46. 'hey, have you seen...? oh']

25. 'i can't believe you talked me into this.'

"I can't believe you talked me into this," Barriss mutters under her breath, far too loudly for Ahsoka's comfort.

"If you keep grumbling, he's gonna hear us from parsecs away," Ahsoka snaps, pushing against her arm. "And I didn't talk you into anything. We're just bringing Master Kenobi a slice of honey cake for his Temple Day."

"You talked me into wearing this stupid hat," Barriss points out, gesturing up to the cone atop her head. "And waking up at 0500 to do this."

"It's not my fault he likes to wake early," Ahsoka sniffs and adjusts her own coned hat. She'd looked it up. It's a Stewjoni birthday tradition, and since Jedi don't really mark their birthdays, given that many birthdays aren't known or precisely documented, she thinks it's alright to mix traditions in the name of celebration.

It's Master Obi-Wan's Temple Day, which means that one hundred years ago--or, apparently, thirty-seven to be exactly--on this day, Master Kenobi was brought to the Temple and adopted by the Jedi.

"I don't even like Master Kenobi all that much," Barriss says, and Ahsoka elbows her.

Probably the first and most important lesson her master ever taught her is that everyone likes Master Kenobi. To suggest otherwise is highly dangerous if Master Skywalker's in hearing range.

"Shut up, yes you do," Ahsoka says and pushes the cake plate into her friend's hand so that she can study the lockpad outside Master Kenobi's door. "If you didn't, you wouldn't be bringing him cake at 0500 on his Temple Day. Now be quiet, I'm trying to remember what digits Skyguy uses to gain access."

It'd help the most if Skyguy had answered the twenty comms she'd sent him last night, when she'd thought up her surprise for Master Kenobi's Temple day. But he hadn't even opened them. If it weren't for their training bond, Ahsoka wouldn't even know he was alive. They've been on Coruscant for three days, and she hasn't seen him since de-boarding.

She thinks maybe he and Senator Amidala made up, though she's not supposed to know about that. Not about their fight, not about their relationship. Her master thinks she's too young to hear about any of it, even though she's still got eyes.

It'd surprise her if they did get back together, from what Ahsoka's pieced together, but nothing else explains Anakin's absence.

But anyway.

It would be so much easier if Anakin were with her, because Anakin knows the code to get into Master Kenobi's quarters like he knows everything else about Master Kenobi.

But part of the reason Ahsoka's gone to all the trouble of finding the coned hats and making the honey cake--from scratch!--and roping Barriss in to help her with the whole thing is that if Anakin has gotten back together with Padmé, he's liable to forget all about Master Kenobi's Temple day, and Master Kenobi is liable to get really sad about it.

So Ahsoka is here, just in case Anakin remains...indisposed. It's what Master Kenobi deserves. He's a great Grandmaster. Some would probably even say he takes on a lot of master-like duties when it comes to teaching Ahsoka, and Ahsoka wouldn't argue. It's sort of nice to have two masters who look after her and encourage her to become the best Jedi she can be, even though that also means she has two masters who enjoy nagging at her all the time.

"Oh!" she says as the lockpad beside the door flashes green and opens. "Huh. That's funny."

"What?" Barriss asks, holding the cake plate in front of her like it's a shield.

"Oh, the doorpad code is Anakin's Temple day," Ahsoka says as she steps through the door. "It's ironic is all, that--Skyguy?"

"Ahsoka!?" Her master is in the kitchen unit. In Master Obi-Wan's kitchen unit. At 0500 in the morning.

And...shirtless?

"Master, put on a shirt!" Ahsoka yelps, turning her face away and covering her eyes. Beside her, Barriss makes a noise of disgust. "What are you even doing here? Naked?"

"Me?" Anakin's voice is high-pitched and far too loud for what had been a quiet morning. His words are accompanied by the sounds of a scramble around the area. Ahsoka doesn't even want to know what her master is doing. "Me--what are you doing here? It's not even 0600!"

"It's Master Obi-Wan's Temple day!" Ahsoka cries back, risking a peek over her fingers. Anakin has found and clothed himself in a striped and frilly yellow apron, which--well, it'll have to be do. "But why are you standing naked in Master Obi-Wan's kitchen unit?"

Barriss coughs. "Ahsoka, I think--we should probably..."

Anakin's face is beet red, and it grows to a worrying shade of purple when there's a clatter from further in the quarters. "I'm...uh. I was making Obi-Wan breakfast," he says.

"There's no food out," Ahsoka points out.

"I spilled it on myself," Anakin snaps. "So obviously, I took off my shirt because it had food on it, and how do you know the code to Obi-Wan's quarters anyway, padawan?"

Ahsoka glares back at him. "Show me the shirt," she demands.

"Ahsoka, really, I think we should go," Barriss says right as Anakin begins to bluster about laundry chutes and steaming clothes or something.

"Anakin?" Master Obi-Wan's voice calls, sounding confused. "What's taking so long, darli--"

"Your grandpadawan's here!" Anakin sounds shrill. He looks--

Ahsoka peers closer at him now that the shock of his presence has begun to wear off. He looks relatively freshly mauled.

"With her friend!" Anakin adds. His eyes dart between Ahsoka, Barriss, the cake, and the door. "They wanted to surprise you!"

Five long moments pass before the door at the end of the hall opens and Master Obi-Wan emerges, sleep clothes clearly rumpled and robe thrown on in a hurry. There's a worrying flush on his cheeks as well, and Ahsoka has never seen his hair so mussed up. "Oh," he says, looking between Ahsoka and Barris, and Anakin and his...apron. "Well, I am. Ah. Very surprised, padawan. Thank you."

Ahsoka nods at Anakin: this is more the reaction she'd expected. "Happy Temple Day, Master Obi-Wan," she tells him and then blinks at him, as he comes further into the light. "You have a bruise on your neck, Master," she tells him. "Was it from a fight?"

Barriss makes a distressed sound at the same time that Anakin does.

"Oh," Master Obi-Wan says, hand flying unerringly to the spot and covering it with his fingers. "It must have been, yes. I was in the training salles yesterday. I'll apply bacta on it this morning."

"I didn't want to do this," Barriss informs them, thrusting the cake plate back into Ahsoka's hands. "And I apologize for being here."

"I'm sorry you're here too," Ahsoka thinks her master mutters.

"Nonsense," Master Obi-Wan says. "Cake, anyone? It looks lovely, Ahsoka."

[oh-no-its-bird]

Since Ichigo dies at about 15, and Hatake get their marks at like 14? what do her clan markings look like? 👀

OHHH OK THIS IS ACTUALLY A WHOLE THING, SO,

Ichigo got moon stripes !! It's also known as the story teller stripes, and is the traditional tattoos of the Hatake clan's religious leader and story keeper. Which Ichigo does end up in training to become!

There's actually a bit of drama with the fact that Yuki, the current clan shaman, is so old (she's in her 70's, which is basically like being in her 120's for a shinobi), and she's only now picking an apprentice in Ichigo.

Yuki did actually have an apprentice before, who was fully trained and set up to take up the position whenever Yuki died— but they were one of the 5 Hatake to die to illness the winter before the Hatake were summoned to iron court (which is the event that got the ball rolling on the Hatake joining Konoha a year or two later)

Yuki settled on Ichigo being her next apprentice relatively quickly after that, but wouldn't actually tell anyone about it for some more years— stubbornly staying quiet on the topic even when pressed with increasingly stressed and worried questions about it. Ichigo was only about 8 at the time, but Yuki set to training her just a little bit under the table

It was easy enough, when Ichigo was always happy to listen to her stories and gossip about past and present events. Ichigo kind of ended up soaking in a lot of things she'd be expected to learn in the role (religious rights / mythos of spirits and gods / traditions and why they do them / stories passed down through the family / etc.) naturally throughout the years.

Finally, Ichigo turned 14 and lead her first hunt— the marker of a Hatake coming of age. Afterwards, it was Yuki's job to give her the stripes Yuki deemed to 'fit her best,' which is ofc when she gave her the moon stripes and officially announced her plans with a "teehee congrats <3"

It wasn't actually too much of a surprise to those who'd been paying attention to what had been going on, but still caught some off guard. Ichigo had been "training" for like, 6 whole years at that point, without even realizing it. So she was honestly pretty well into her education on the roll, and would probably only need a few more years afterwards to be deemed officially ready to take it on

But then ofc, she dies a year later. And Yuki dies in very quick succession. (Losing her third apprentice, and so old already, had done terrible things to her heart and spirit) And with both of them went a very large portion of the clans history.

Others in the clan, of course, still knew plenty. Yuki's teachings had not been for Ichigo alone, and many had sat by her side and listened to her stories as well. But no single person knew as much as they had or had been in the same position of authority to do things like honoring the spirits of their ancestors or assigning Hatake stripes to their young.

In their deaths, Haruka had to take up many of their duties, mostly by default via being the highest other figure of respect in that regard. But they lost a lot.

There's some sort of interesting point to be made that the Hatake's religious leader wears tattoos that symbolize a red moon. And that Kaguya-hime is among the gods they pay respects to.

I don't really have any real thoughts on it other than going "hmm." and writing that down to reference later, but like !! That's something

anyways Yuki herself is also pretty cute, I find myself enjoying her immensely, so take this art I drew for her the other day that I've been looking for an excuse to post:

[renirae]

Tim Drake and stalking as a love language

I have this idea that Tim has been stalking people as a love language actually years before he ever discovered Robin's identity.

It started when he was six and his parents were visiting. Tim was already being taken care of by a live-in nanny, so he rarely saw his parents - even while in Gotham, they were still usually out of the house, going to galas and dining with important businessmen.

However, one night they actually did stay home, and Tim was so excited to finally spend a day with them before they flew out the next day!! ...Until he learned they were only home because they were having a dinner party.

Now, it was clear that Tim wasn't a part of the guest list; but Janet made the mistake of not telling Tim to go to his room. Instead, she specifically said "Timothy, I don't want to see you for the rest of the night".

Tim, of course, realized the loophole; they weren't allowed to see him, but he could watch them. And as long as he wasn't caught, he'd be following his parents' rules AND spending time with them before they left!

So before the dinner, he found somewhere to hide in the dining room, and he watched his parents the entire night. And it was great! They even talked about him to some of their guests, called him a "smart and independent young man". They'd never said that to Tim's face, but he glowed with pride from the compliment for days after. His strategy had worked perfectly.

For the next few visits he did the same thing. Every time his parents were home but didn't want to see him, he simply watched them instead. It was basically spending time together!

Eventually though, Tim grew older, and visitors to the mansion started to ask why their son was never a part of the dinners. But rather than adding Tim to the guest list, his parents simply stopped ever hosting events.

Tim at this point had already started stalking Batman and Robin, so he had a genius idea; he could follow his parents around Gotham to watch them too!

So yeah, this continued until Janet's death; whenever his parents came to Gotham and went to go, for example, meet a colleague in a restaurant, Tim would find a way to sneak in or otherwise watch over them. Obviously by this age he was now aware just how... not-normal this behaviour was, but it was also basically the only time he ever saw his parents interacting with each other without Tim around. And again, they even sometimes complimented him! He would never have known that if he hadn't kept watching them! So... yeah, no matter how creepy he knew it was, he couldn't convince himself to stop.

Of course, the canon stalking of Batman and Robin continued as well - after Robin switched hands, Tim even sometimes went to Bludhaven to stalk Nightwing around too, although those trips were much more few and far between given the necessary added amount of planning and travel.

That, of course, continued until Jason's death... and then Tim's mother and later his father died too, so you'd think Tim would have nobody else to stalk, right?

...Well, old habits die hard.

Even after getting friends and family, Tim couldn't quite stop himself from stalking them. Perhaps it was because his parents always got annoyed when Tim tried to spend time with them, so he grew paranoid that his new friends and family were the same way - if he was too clingy, they would stop wanting to spend time with him. So if he wanted to see a certain family member but he'd spent time with them too recently, he ended up just hiding and watching them instead. Just like with his parents, he could spend time around them without them getting annoyed at him. It was a win-win!

(Of course, he now lived with a bunch of other stalkers (even if most of them did it for vigilantism reasons and not to their actual friends and family like Tim did), so this couldn't last forever. I imagine they slowly caught on, one by one, and once the entire family was aware they all worked together to stage an intervention.

And since I refuse to write unhappy endings - during the intervention, it takes some prodding, but Tim finally opens up. He tells them about his parents, and admits he stalks people because he's worried he'll be seen as clingy like they did. And after many many reassurances that his parents were wrong and everyone loves him the way he is, they all hug him and have a movie night or something and it's happily ever after :))