#i never considered that the bow could be a factor in him like... growing more mentally unstable so i'll think on that too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hitlikehammers · 10 months ago

Text

just the facts

rating: t ♥️ cw: Lady Applejack's enduring awesomeness ♥️ tags: established relationship, rockstar!eddie, teacher!steve, rockstar husbands, steddie in their 20s, erica sinclair, steve and eddie stay local until the entire party is safely graduated, slice of life, softness, canon fact: erica coins term 'dumpster fire' for the ages, SCOOPS TROOP FOR LIFE 🍦🍨

for @steddielovemonth day fifteen: Love is Co-Parenting (@shares-a-vest)

still the boys who grow into the husbands in je ne regrette rien but let’s roll back to the early 90s ♥️

“So, Stanford?”

She raises a brow around the straw in her mouth when Steve speaks and god: she’s grown up so fucking much, but that look, when Eddie glances back to the table as he listens in to their conversation: that look’s the first time he encountered the formidable half-elf a fucking lifetime ago when he was an asshole and she schooled him from the start—he should have been better prepared for the emotional whirlwind to come, at least, from there; or if nothing else, more mindful of the foreshadowing.

And he thought himself some masterful storyteller, Jesus fuck: he was both cocky and naive.

“When I go to law school it’s gonna be on the east coast, so,” she slurps noisily, unbothered, around the ice in the glass; “cover both bases.”

“Take the country by storm,” Steve nods with that warm grin that melts liquid in Eddie’s chest, every time, every day, never stopping: “very you.”

“Can’t run until I’m 35 which,” Erica shrugs, but then she flips her hair and shoots that grin that holds all the fucking secrets: “America without Erica is a travesty,” she’s got her thumb and forefinger pinched as she emphasizes the syllables hard, then snorts so derisively she might as well be the originator of the term; maybe, like, in a past life or something.

“I could run right this minute and do better than what’s there now,” she rolls her eyes and snaps her wrist decisively before stating, y’know, the obvious:

“Just the facts.”

Eddie catches Steve’s lips curl down, brow furrow as he words something out and he’s so fucking gorgeous, he’s so goddamn precious, and Eddie’s heart just kinda flip-flops around to watch him like this, relaxed and soft and happy and proud and a little bit piqued by the innocuous, and they all worked damn hard to get here, but, like.

Here is incredible.

“He just got into office in January,” Steve points out, and Eddie grins as he gathers their orders and arranges on the tray for balance, loves how he wasn’t even worried for what his partner was mulling over with the crinkle in his brow, didn’t even pause to think it was something bad and that’s such a…a new normal and Eddie wants to leap into the air and whoop for the joy of it, but: kinda got his hands full.

Maybe later.

“Plenty of time to impress me, and fail to,” Erica’s scoffing in reply before she huffs: “considering the dumpster fires that preceded him.”

“The what fires?” Steve asks, eyes so big, so fucking pretty.

“I said what I said,” Erica leans back in her chair, crossing her arms and…it’s so comfortable. It’s so innocent, the whole scene, the three of them here, and Eddie loves this, he loves them, he’s just…

It’s a life he never imagined, y’know? It’s a reality he didn’t even factor in when spinning the wheel of possibility in his head, and yes, okay, they went through hell for it, he almost died for it, but he found a family in it; he found the love of his life in it—on balance there’s no fucking question as to where he landed so far toward the good that ‘good’ seems kinda insultingly inadequate as a descriptor at all.

He needs to think up a better word, for sure.

“M’lady,” Eddie bows as he unloads the tray when he gets back to the table, presenting Erica’s five-scoop tower of ice cream with a flourish: “many effusive congratulations to you,” he settles the bowl in front of her and leans to drum his fingers on the cap with the floofy tassel they’d badgered her to bring for photos; “on to new adventures far afoot,” Eddie continues, unloading Steve’s banana split—a true treat more for Eddie to watch him eat than for Steve to taste himself, because fucking hell—and then his own hot-fudge sundae with whipped cream topped higher than the fucking glass, before he plops down next to Steve, the pair of them side-by-side across from Erica in the booth as he grins at her, because shit: he’s fucking proud, too:

“The denizens of Palo Alto will stand in awe of your grandeur,” he gestures with extra grandiosity with his spoon before he grabs the cherry, glances around for safety before offering it straight to Steve’s mouth, pulling the stem out teasingly when Steve bites and hiding the full stretch of his smile behind a big shovel-full of chocolatey-flakes on the whip.

And he and Steve are quiet, but don’t really dive in because they’re watching, waiting: Erica rolls her eyes at their antics, even if they were subtle, and goes for a bite herself, and okay, moment of truth—

Her eyes speak for her again, then, but to get very, very big as she stills, then slowly takes the spoon from her mouth and pins them with a stare:

“This is,” her mouth works around a whole lot of silence as she stares at her perfect quintuple-scoop array, because it’s all one flavor. And it’s all a flavor she mostly ragged on for being annoyingly on-brand that first summer, Eddie’s heard the stories, but still asked for extra samples of it every goddamn time, to when he and Steve had both been talked more than once to drive out to the nearest location and ‘fulfill the contract’ sworn that fateful July, a task that got more difficult every year as the chain thinned its numbers, until there weren’t any on this side of the state, then none on this side of the border, then just: none in the Midwest, period, and Erica?

She could try to hide it all she wanted, but she was sad. Because that girl had a favorite. And this, here?

Fucking U.S.S. Butterscotch? Hell yeah, it is.

“Called in a favor,” which Steve probably means to sound like he leveraged Eddie’s currently less-than-moderate celebrity or something, but what actually means he charmed the minimum wage high schooler in Portland, because Scoops Ahoy was out West now, and only had about 10 locations left—but he’d convinced the kid to let him buy a whole gallon, paid a premium for cold storage shipping, and then bribed the owner here with ample documentation of proper product preservation and transfer prior to sale, plus a couple crisp Benjamins, to convince the guy to sell it for one day, only to Steve and his guests—given it was a licensed product the parlor wasn’t a retailer for. The favor was the real power behind what passed for the Harrington charm for all those years and it was simply genuine and full-bodied Steve: charming, god yes, charming as fuck but good and kind and earnest and determined, pushy and snarky but more often wielded for the benefit of others than for himself—not to mention persuasive with those puppy-dog eyes.

Because, like, fuck: all these years and Eddie’s still weak for those goddamn eyes.

He lets himself stare at Steve and just, take him in for a little while until Steve feels his gaze—doesn’t take long, they’re aware of each other as a default mods—and lifts those impossible eyes for Eddie to drown in and feel warm inside his veins when they light up for the smile Steve flashes his way.

Fuck, but Eddie loves him.

“When are you coming to visit, then?” Erica breaks the spell; licks her spoon clean before aiming it at them pointedly. They glance at each other—she kinda means the world to them, they’ve grown close with her especially once all the other kids skedaddled, and Eddie thinks he’s not…he’s not surprised, and he thinks he knew she’d want them to visit. He thinks Steve knew that, too.

But he knows, like he knows his own heartbeat and Steve’s even better: Eddie knows Steve feels just as warm and touched and like, fucking moved a little by how she treats it like a given.

“When do you want us there?” Steve asks and yeah, he’s smooth about it, composed and shit, but Eddie knows his voice inside-out and backward. He can hear the emotion stayed back underneath.

“When are you planning to move?”

They don’t even really pause at the way she knows without them saying; she’s the only person who hasn’t outright suggested they get the fuck out of Hawkins, finally. Kinda like they never had to say they were staying until all of their family was accounted for and on their way in the world, safe and sound and whole.

“Nothing’s in stone, yet,” Steve offers, poking Eddie’s foot under the table.

“But you’re looking,” Erica, again, already knows; doesn’t pose it as a question.

“Yeah,” Eddie smiles down at his sundae, and links his hand with Steve between them on the seat; “we’re thinking Chi-town,” because that’s been the front-runner for a while, now, of the cities they’ve considered. Because it doesn’t even have to be forever, they don’t have to commit to a place and never leave—because the only forever-thing in all of this, in anything, is them. Just Steve and Eddie, them two: together.

Wherever they end up.

“Mmm,” Erica considers before scooping another spoon of mostly-butterscotch swirl: “I can see that.”

“You can, can you?” Steve volleys with a smirk, and she lets him goad her into laying out how she knows them, how she sees them, because…it’s maybe strange but then maybe not but it’s always felt special, with her. Maybe because she’s grown up more than any of them, for Steve and Eddie to watch. Maybe because she’s so goddamn smart, that her observations come out near-unchallengable.

Maybe because they both know she loves them, and she knows they love her, and it’s never been…awkward, like it had been in spots with the shitheads over time. It was just understood.

“Big but not huge,” Erica ticks off the reasons for her assessment; “music scene’s decent,” she nods to Eddie, who nods back gracious; “good schools,” she leans to Steve, and yep, that was a huge factor, whether Steve could love his job; “liberal…ish,” she eyes them, and how close they sit, meaningfully before tacking on: “familiar weather.”

Steve huffs a little laugh and Eddie just beams at her: not a single thing wrong there. She’s got them dead to rights, and he kinda loves that about her; so much.

“Semester ends first week of December,” she focuses back on her bowl and speaks with authority, like whatever she’s proposing isn’t a suggestion, just a notice: “if you guys are still here,” she shakes the full spoon in her hand and raises an eyebrow: “I expect ice cream.”

Steve just nods as she pops the spoonful in her mouth whole-on.

“Scoops Troop for life,” he agrees and Eddie perks, always ready when that label pops up.

“Plus honorary trooper,” he chimes in, and Erika grins around her spoon a little as Steve leans close and can’t kiss him here, but Eddie knows well what it means to feel Steve’s breath against the line of his neck like he’s jest stretching past him, like it could be innocent as Steve murmurs low—

“Always.”

And can feel the heat rise in his cheeks, and the flutter in his chest, because…because he’s in love, goddamnit, and it’s been one of the most incredible surprises to learn that he can love so big, and get love so big back in kind, that the feeling never fades, he can always feel weightless and boneless and overwhelmed in the best of ways for just this man near to him, just the pitch of his voice and the promise of his breath on Eddie’s skin.

“You’re cute,” Erika says, the judgement in her tone tempered low as her lips still quirk; “and this is delicious,” she points her spoon again at the remaining ice cream and the tiny puddle it’s melting between the remaining scoops. “So I’ll allow it,” she nods to their pressed-together shoulders and goes back to eating, but never loses the tiny grin and he and Steve both know how much that means, from her.

“But if you’re already there,” she continues when she starts collecting the saucer bits at the base of the bowl: “Chicago’s a decent layover spot, probably,” she shrugs; “but still, here or there,” and she pauses with intention before narrowing her eyes with intention:

“Ice cream.”

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

55 notes · View notes

raethereptile · 1 year ago

Text

"So, what do you make of them?"

Ethan smiled, not surprised to hear her voice.

He slid the second glass of amber along the balcony bannister into Max's hand, and watched as she took a measured sip.

She was dressed in a long nightgown, much as her daughter had in the meeting downstairs, but her's a deep shimmering blue, the same shade as the shawl he remembered her wearing as they made their dramatic escape from that Prague apartment.

Not an accident.

"Expecting me?" She queried with sharp eyes.

He returned it with a sharp smile, "Never. Hopeful."

They watched eachother, both guarded and open in that way they could only be with others who played the same game they played.

He pointedly didn't think of Ilsa.

"So," she repeated, "what do you make of them?"

She had elegantly bowed out of the meeting downstairs with a laugh, patting him on the cheek and "leaving him in her daughter's capable hands." She'd smiled sharply at her children and told them to "spare no expense for an old friend."

And so, after a meeting considerably more awkward than when it started, Ethan and Walker had found themselve escorted into lavish rooms for the night, liaising with Benji and Luther over a secure network.

He watched Max intently, as he carefully considered his answer.

"Your boy's a fool, and the girl's abrasive and flashy. They lack your refinement and sense of subtlety. But she has potential."

She hummed thoughtfully. "They're young. They'll grow into it."

"Or they won't."

They shared a grim smile. They both knew that age, time, was not guaranteed, not in their world. Ethan's age was considered an achievement of itself. Max's age was miraculous.

They stood together in the quiet night, quietly watching the other.

Max shivered in the breeze, and Ethan shrugged off his jacket and settled it over her sholders.

"Ever the gentleman," she teased.

She knew his game.

Flirting, seduction, was never sincere in their line of work.

It was a tool.

And one they both knew how to use well.

But that didn't mean there wasn't fondness there to. Didn't mean that it couldn't be fun.

Some enjoyment, for old times sake.

Ethan knew the only reason he wasn't revealed was because Max wanted to play the game.

So they were playing.

"Enjoying retirement?"

"Well, it's quiet."

"You're bored out of your mind, aren't you."

"So bored!"

They both laughed freely.

Ethan was surprised by how real it was.

"And that answers that question," he chucked and moved in closer, placing his hands either side of her on the banister, making his play obvious, and answered her questioning look, "of why you're being a good sport about all this."

"The way I see it," she responded with a flirtatious smile and sharp eyes, a little charmed by Ethan despite herself, "this could have played out two ways. I tell everyone that you are, in fact, not the despicable mass murder John Lark. They kill you. The real Lark or his associates are brought back into play, or another buyer is found. Alanna acts as a broker, and gets her payment. Or. I let this play out. The deal happens exactly the same. Plus or minus a few details, as you undoubtedly manipulation the situation to your advantage. I get entertainment, my children get an education from someone who knows how to play the game, and Alanna still gets her payment. Because you're a gentleman."

And Ethan remembered the fear and admiration of all those years ago. God, could she play the game.

"The determining factor was, of course," Max turned into his arms and tweaked his ear with a smile, "my silence."

He wrapped his arms around her waist and played up the seduction, "And what would you like, as-" don't say payment, don't say payment, "- in return for that silence?"

Her eyes laughed at him blatantly, even as she leaned into the bit, "oh, I'm sure you can be creative."

Ethan laughed quietly, grinned boyishly, and, for old times sake, dropped to his knees.

*cackles mannickley* oh this AU is a thing now, let's hope my muse keeps this up because I want to know how Ethan explains this to the gang

Also 📨 *ping!* @oddcologne look I did a thing please be inspired I'd love to see the art when it's done

No but a Max Lives AU

Ethan's stood in that room, surrounded by people who will kills him if he slips up for just a second, listening to Zola's asinine plan and not taking his eyes off Alanna, the true danger in the room, for so much as a second, when movement out of the corner of his eye draws his attention.

She's dressed finely, understated where her daughter is luminescent, her deft touch evident where her daughter's rougher edges have shaped the space around them. Her hair is white, and she has more wrinkles, and she's using a cane, but he'd know those eyes anywhere.

And the whole world fades away as they lock eyes.

And Ethan knows he's fucked.

There's no way she doesn't recognise him, not with the slight softening of her smile.

There's fondness there, he's relieved to see, a sentiment he returns. No hard feelings. Mutual manipulation, betrayal, and use. Both aware of the others games and choosing to play. Neither of them got what they really wanted in the end, but they set eachother up so they could land on their feet. No hard feelings.

So, the question. Did she want to play the game?

Because Ethan was all in and now only she could deside which way this meeting would go.

Would she out him to her heiress? Or would she let it play out?

He watched as she analysed the situation.

Play the game? Or pull the plug?

She smiled.

He smiled back.

All in.

"Dear boy."

"Max."

#more?#more!#mission: impossible #mission impossible fallout #mission impossible #max mitsopolis #ethan hunt #ethan x max

66 notes · View notes

kusagrasskusa · 4 years ago

Text

Gaara X Innocent! Reader - "Hellfire"

Gaara's age is bumped up to 16 in this btw, and the reader is 16 as well. This takes place the night Gaara kills that one Sound Ninja on the rooftop, during the chunin exams. Also, Gaara might be considered a Yandere, but I don't know (you'll see why lol) Lastly, when I talk about Gaara burning, I mean it metaphorically. Yes, this is 100% based off The Hunchback of Notre Dame

FYI! This story isn't very romantic so if you're a fan of slightly darker stories, go ahead snd read this I suppose. Plus Y/N is kinda a coward in this

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There he sat, on top of the rooftop late at night. Tomorrow would be the full moon, when Gaara's power would increase in perfect timing for another battle in the chunin exams. Competition is getting tough and examtakers are either extra aggressive with everyone or forming alliances. Not only that, but so many people are winning each challenge that too few people are being eliminated. That's all that's important and all that will be important until the Sand Village finally finishes off Konoha with the help of the Sound Village. But how, even with these much more important factors, is the only thing Gaara could think about is some normal pediatrician girl?

The moment he met her in the streets, a flame was set in his heart. He had been walking through Konoha after register for the exams and noticed a pretty young girl running through the streets, shouting for help. All she received was weird glances and eye rolls, however Gaara and his siblings caught on. Much to his sister and brother's surprise, Gaara had no problems hearing her pleas and then defending her. Someone had been following her; someone who her family had bad history with and from the looks of it, that person planned to hurt her.

He had no problems escorting her home and listening to her talk along the way. Her voice was so soft, her colorful kimono and flowers in her hair fitting for someone with an innocent and sweet personality. She seemed to be oblivious to the mysterious looks of Gaara and his siblings, or the way Gaara was so cold and silent. She payed no mind and spoke to him as id he was normal; like he was human. And it was that fact, her ignoring his dangerous aura, that lit that flame.

After since that day, that flame grew so strong. Every set of bright shades of the colors she wore on her clothes, every flower that she decorated herself with, every word or item that she mentioned in the little time she spoke to him, and everyone with E/C eyes would make him think of her. That sweet, kind, oblivious girl. It's like she cast a spell on him to make him slowly burn alive; that little flame she set it him would quickly grow into hellfire. His burning desires to see her again, to hold her, to love, traveled through his skin and veins. It didn't take long for Gaara to convince himself she did something cruel to him to use his demon, just like his father is using his demon to destroy Konoha in a few days.

Gaara was began to assume the girl was mocking him when she spoke to him so lightly; that he was no one to be afraid of. It was so insulting, but she was able to hide her cruel and disgraceful jeers under a sweet and loving facade and cute clothing. That has to be it, he thought. No one could ever like me, no one can love me, other than me. More and more of Gaara's thoughts were consumed, then all at once, by thoughts of her. She was like a demon dragging him to hell to torture forever. That beautiful girl with those lovely E/C eyes and pretty clothing was using him, he convinced himself. And someone like that deserved death.

That sweet, young girl had a name; Y/N. She was incapable of sleeping, as a terrible feeling in her stomach was keeping her awake. She pouted her lip and huffed, poking her stomach and whispering to herself, "I want that bad feeling to go away!" That feeling was pure anxiety and a hint of fear. These emotions were very uncommon for Y/N as she had always. Even a positive thinker with lots of love in her heart for even villains to an extent. She sighed, turning over in her bed on her back for sitting up, flipping her legs over her bedside. She stood up and put on a soft kimono over her pajamas and walked to the front door of her home, put on her sandels, and walked out. "Maybe a nice walk around the village will tire me out!"

"It's almost the full moon," Gaara said aloud. "My power will only grow stronger." He stood up, staring intensly at the moon as if it's the only thing keeping him from being devored by his hellish thoughts. His thoughts of how lovely it would be to destroy that girl who made his chest feel warm and his face heat up when she talked to him. That girl who made him feel the way he feels about himself, only a bit different. He had never felt romantic love to anyone, and for him to suddenly feel so strongly about someone instantly convinced him that she did something to him. Someone who would ever control him like would burn in hell before the hellfire consumes him first.

A rough, quiet and threatening voice erupted from behind the redhead. He paid no mind to anything that came out of the mouth of the Sound Village ninja rather just acknowledged that he wanted a fight. Without even realizing it, all that bloodlust built up through thinking of Y/N was released, ending in that Sound Village ninjas blood being spilled all over the roof top. It felt like a weight was taken off his back when he killed the ninja, but in the back of his head he knew it wasn't enough. Gaara didn't want that petty ninja, only that witch known as Y/N. Every passing second, that hellfire coursing through his veins were blazing out of control, weren't they?

"Maybe a nice walk around the village will tire me out!" Gaara's ears perked at that voice. That voice. Y/N's voice. Just like that, Gaara's need for blood grew strong again but this time, it felt different. He killed the Sound Village Ninja with aggression, but knowing he could kill Y/N now that he heard her close by made him feel an exciting kind of bloodlust. Those flames coursing through his body grew hotter every second, growing ever more desperate to get his hands on her.

"It's been a while since I've seen the garden at night come to think about. The moon is bright tonight so it's bound to be pretty sight!" That sweet, soft voice called out from the ground, below Gaara's feet. She walked the pathway it takes to find a nearby lake, where a nice little garden lays. A smile rose on Gaara's face; one of pure hate and excitement. His chest pained to greatly at the thought of her death, but that hellfire coursing through his body was telling him to hurt her. The front of his mind was screaming for him to kill her and use her blood as a piece of his deadly sand, but the back of his kind was whispering for him to comprehend how he feels about her first.

So he began to follow her. Gaara quietly walked from the rooftops, not daring to make a single sound. He continued to smile as he followed her, his smile growing the more he heard her talk to herself. Such a sweet girl with such a pure heart. It's a shame someone with Gaara's problems sees her as a witch because he loves her. As another 10 minutes go by, Y/N began walking into the woods and towards the lake. Gaara jumped to the ground without making a sound and followed her discreetly by hiding behind trees. He stopped when Y/N did. Y/N's eyes widened and sparkled at the amazing sight before her; the moon reflecting on the lake as beautiful flowers and trees accompanied toads on lilipads in the water. Pure bliss.

"Wow...It's incredible!" She laughed in awe. "My arms feel so weak at the sight," she spoke again as her smile widened. "I wish mom was here to see this!" Gaara hummed, looking over the scenery as well. It wasn't very interesting, but it was something he supposed. After all, Y/N loved it. Gaara looked around and saw no one nearby, meaning now would be a great time to react. He silently tip toed over to Y/N, using trees to cover himself. However, Y/N spotted him when she looked around the area in case there was anyone nearby (after all, she was being loud and who knows who lived in the area).

"Hmm? Hi, you there!" She said, waving her hand towards that silhouette behind that tree. Gaara'a face turned into one of the confusion, his "eyebrows" furrowing. Why isn't she scared of someone creeping up behind her in the woods? "Sorry if I'm bothering you! I just wanted to see what's it's like here at night. I can leave if you want," she said, swaying her body back and forth.

"...No, it's quite alright," Gaara replied as he stepped from behind the trees. He walked up the her, and instantly Y/N recognized him. She gasped, surprised.

"I remember you! You're the one that saved me! Thank you so much!" She giggled, clasping her hands together and bowing deeply. "My deepest thanks." Gaara paused, feeling his cheeks heat up a bit.

"My heart is pounding," he mumbled allowed, pressing his hand against his chest. "What have you done to me?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. Y/N stood up straight, giving him a questioning hum in return. Her face looked so innocent and sweet; it's all apart of that facade, isn't it? Gaara growled, roughly grabbing Y/N's shoulders and pulling her close. She jumped, gasping a little at the sudden action. "I said, what did you do to me? Where did this hellfire come from, you witch!" His voice went from his normal calm tone to a scream instantly.

Y/N's eyes widened and her body started to shiver a little. She furrowed her eyebrows together, stuttering out a reply. "I-I don't understand..." That answer wasn't good enough for Gaara as he had no problem throwing her to the ground and looming over her with a look of anger across his facial features. His fist was clenched so tight that his veins were showing. "I don't know what you're talking about!" Y/N yelled out fearfully, covering her face. Tears began to swell in her eyes and her voice became shakey.

Sand began to pour out from behind him and his heart ate picked up again. That flame in his heart was so strong and terrifying to Gaara that he was okay with killing the girl he fell in love with right then and now. His body was so scared that it wanted to kill her, but his heart was too scared to rid such a wonderful girl from the world forever. "Tell me, witch. What did... you do?" He asked again, staring at her so intensely that she could feel his eyes burning into her skin. She sniffed, now too scared to reply upon seeing that sand loom over her.

After a few moments, he screamed, "tell me!" Y/N chocked up on tears, taking a deep breath before replying.

"I don't know any magic or special jutsus, sir! I didn't do anything to you!" She cried out, slowly sitting up. "I'm sorry!" Gaara hissed, silent for a couple minutes. In that time, Gaara remained still as Y/N slowly began to stand up. In her mind, she was recalling words her mom once spoke to her about dangerous people. People are born innocent and harmless and only bad environments or situations can taint their purity. With that in mind, Y/N assumed that Gaara had problems that she couldn't understand. And with a heart as pure as her's, she had already forgave Gaara for scaring her and already felt sympathy for him. She slowly walked closer to him, the hairs on her neck standing up with anxiety, and put an arm on his shoulder.

That touch made him snatch back to reality. He slowly put his hand on top of her's; he was so confused and overwhelmed with opposing emotion and thought. "Then why? Why do you make me feel this way?" He asked in a low rough voice. Y/N began to wrap her arms around him and then hug him softly, shutting her eyes tightly. She managed to push her worried back as she found giving this sad, sad man affection was more important. Gaara felt his chest grow warm again and suddenly, she chuckled.

"I think your hellfire consumed me. I can't even find it in myself to kill you anymore, witch. I think I'm in love with you," he said, blinking away tears. He was so scared and his body pained to kill her, but he just couldn't. He was so overwhelmed with the pleasant feeling of Y/N arms being around him to ever lay a finger on her in anger. Instead he just hugged her back tightly, stuffing his face into the crook of her neck and sniffing. He was obviously holding back tears, which didn't work very well. Afterall, for the first time in forever, he felt like he could show a little bit of a soft side.

"You're gonna control me, aren't you? Use my feelings against me and bend me to your will? You're so cruel, even with the face of an angel." Y/N hummed, not understanding his comments. She just sighed, hugging him tighter and opening her eyes.

"Hey, Gaara, isn't it? Why don't we spend time out here tomorrow? I'd like to get to know you better."

Gaara grunted in response, closing his eyes and wiping his tears with on arm, keeping his other arm tightly around her smaller form. Yeah, whatever hellfire he feels has completely consumed him before he could stop it.

Lol sorry this written to bad!

#gaara x reader #gaara x you #gaara x y/n #gaara x innocent reader #yandere gaara #yandere gaara x reader #naruto x reader #innocent reader #reader insert #naruto shippuden #naruto shitposting #gaara is so sweet #i have a test today #anime #shounen

284 notes · View notes

thatbangtanbloom · 4 years ago

Text

we’ll always have paris | kth

we’ll always have paris

characters: kim taehyung x reader

genre: idol!taehyung, reader

categories: fluff, angst, smut (pls forgive me it’s my first time)

warnings: dirty talk (tae loves it ngl), oppa kink???, taehyung is absOLUTELY WHIPPED for reader, unprotected sex (pulling out - do not do this ok; wrap it up kids!!!!), curse words

word count: 9.8k

Talks of traveling from Seoul to Paris were a frequent topic between the two lovers for the first two years of their relationship. Paris was a place of new beginnings, for strolls all the Champs-Elysses, and kisses under the Eiffel Tower. Renowned for its beauty and culture, any couple intending on forever had to travel to this as a form of pilgrimage.

Nevertheless, the duty of an idol did not align with that of a student. The number of times Kim Taehyung traveled to Paris for touring could not be counted on his fingers, for his trips were numerous. The love for ARMY was not the same for his girlfriend (and soon-to-be fiancée) so the feelings that Edith Piaf sung in ‘La vie en rose’ left him misty-eyed in anticipation for the moment he would finally do so.

“I’m going to Paris!” were the words that greeted Taehyung on his daily virtual call from his girlfriend, YN. Her chubby cheeks were filled with light as she crossed her legs in her dorm room. It was reassuring to see she was happy: her bed perfectly fixed behind her and the Tata plushie he brought him tucked under her arm. “Well.. Lyon, but my exit flight is in Paris.”

Her excitement is infectious to Taehyung. “Wait.. you are only going to Paris for your exit flight?” He asks with a frown on his lips.

“Yes.. I am traveling to Lyon for an engineering conference for spring break, but I will be going to Paris via train for my flight?” She exclaims with a giddy smile.

Her words paired with her excitement makes him think of last year when they watched the Hollywood golden-era classic, Sabrina. “자기.. Paris is not meant to be an exit flight..”

“I don’t have the money to stay longer.. Paris is expensive.” She pouts before shrugging. “Traveling like a native and then to the airport is enough for me!”

A slight frown settles into Taehyung’s soft features. As much as he loved her, he sometimes wished that she would depend on him more. For lack of a better word, he wanted to be needed. It were times like this when he wondered if she would always be a immobile rock evading his offers. “You should experience Paris properly for your first time.. with me.”

“With you?” She asks in surprise. “But what about your practice and preparations for the new album?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “We are getting a two week break.. I can just work a bit more now and I can meet you after the conference, my sweet engineer.” He is shy as his boxy smile comes into view. “We always talked about backpacking across Europe, right? Let’s start in Paris and go wherever the wind takes us.. and be spontaneous.”

Spontaneous was definitely a word to describe Taehyung. She heard him numerous times to considered doing things with him to be more adventurous; it even led to a few arguments from time to time.

“Well.. if it is not too much of a burden for you..”

“It is not.” He smiles at her brightly. “It would be so nice for us to spend this time together too.. I miss my tiny little spoon.” He leans his cheek against his palm.

As YN usually disagreed with being a little a spoon, she concedes without a struggle. “Your little spoon misses you too... 오빠.”

“Then let’s do this.” The familiar gleam of mischief that she has always loved has reached his eyes once more. The anticipation is rising. “How does that sound?”

“I’ll start packing.” YN concedes with a wide grin. Paris and Taehyung? It’s a love story for the ages.

The warmth of a lover is the most fulfilling experience in the world. For others, it may be success and money, but such things can be replicated time and time again. The effects of true love are unwavering and everlasting in ways that no dictionary in any language can attempt to emulate. This much passion and fortitude remained elusive to be defined, but YN knew that she felt it.

Her heart was beating loud in her ears as she sat on the bed of their hotel room; the key to their shared suite living her heart in circles. She was greeted with rose petals on the bed and a small card from Taehyung that made her wonder if they were soulmates that transcended time. It were the little things like this that made her realize their love was eternal.

자기야 (Honey)

I can’t wait to see you tonight. I seriously haven’t been able to sleep at all, thinking about what this next week has in store for us.. I’m so happy that you’re letting things go as they do. I’ll be there soon. This first night, let’s rest. Tomorrow? We run!

나는 너를 사랑해. 보라해💜 (I love you.)

너의 김태태 (Your Kim Taetae)

She smiles down at the card and plops down onto the fluffy comforters. Taehyung never filled to fill her lungs with roses and make a garden blossom for him. It were times like this when she realized the deepest realization of love was embodied by him. Her Taehyung.

Falling for Taehyung on that winter night in 2016 was the first time that she learned to go with the flow and follow her heart. Apprehension was a common practice when it came to her distinguishing the crush from mere admiration, but once she let it settle.. it began to grow into eternity. It did not fester and cool like the raisin in the sun she worried it would be.

“어... 왜 그래? 자기?” The familiar deep timber whispers, sending tingles down her spine as she shakes away from her daydream to be met with chocolate orbs. He sends her a smirk, clad in his mahogany brown day coat and black beret. He knew Parisian fashion like an atelier at Chanel.

Her heart instantly flutters as she pulls him on top of her to take him into a tight hug and steals a kiss from his soft lips. “Taehyung!”

“What were you thinking about? You didn’t even hear me come in.” He chuckles into her ear as he settles all of his weigh on her with a smile. His fingers toy with the bow of her white sundress absentmindedly. He had missed her so much that he felt light headed just being around her. He was on cloud nine. With his girl.

YN blushes as she takes off his beret to place it on her own head and strokes his hair. He lays his head on her chest, holding her in his arms. “I was thinking about how lucky I am to be with you.. you’re the man of my dreams, you know?”

“어?” Taehyung turns slightly red at the confession. “And not Park Hyunsik-ssi?” He teases, knowing the many occasions she fawned over his hyung while they watched his drama.

YN giggles, “Yes. You have all that I want..” She begins to caress his cheek as he places a kiss on her clothed tummy. “The fact.. the fact you came all the way to Paris and we are going to spend the next week together backpacking makes me excited.”

“I can’t wait for our cottage in the Netherlands. I finished the reservation this morning,” He confesses while stroking her hip. “If we could.. maybe.. maybe we could extend our trip?”

“I wouldn’t say no to that.” YN doesn’t miss a beat. Taehyung’s boxy smile spreads across his face as he climbs up to kiss all over her lips in appreciation.

Taehyung smiles as he pecks her lips quickly. “Let’s drink some of the champagne and spend tonight coolly. I want to enjoy this. And you.”

“We should shower first...” she agrees with a smile as she wraps her arms around his shoulders to peck his lips. “I can order the room service too. Strawberry cheesecake?”

“And steak.” He chuckles as he thinks of their fruit: strawberries had been a deciding factor for the two of them. “I’ll head in now.”

“Mmm~.” She sing songs to him before brushing her nose against his.

Two showers, one call to the front desk, and a knock at the door later, the two lovers sit across from each other cross legged as they feast on steak, potatoes, chocolate covered strawberries, and champagne. It is nothing short of a midsummer night’s dream and a memory that neither of them had wanted to get. The lilting tone of Sarah Vaughn plays in the background as YN listens intently to Taehyung talk about the latest episode of Adventures of BTS. He was so talkative when he was excited about something.

“And Jimin-ah! He could tell that Yoongi-hyung was falling a bit behind so he decided to stop walking. It’s a surprise that hyung had tolerated this much from us.” Taehyung laughs as he takes a sip of his accompanying soft drink, Coca Cola, while smiling. It was rare that he felt this comfortable when someone outside of Bangtan or his family, but this was why he loved YN. He felt safe and secure and he knew that her commitment to him was unwavering just as his was to her. “I’m talking too much about them.. aren’t I?”

YN shakes her head with a giggle. “Tae.. I know how much you love them. I don’t mind.” She beams as she steals another chocolate strawberry despite Taehyung whining earlier about wanting the dark chocolate one.

“Yah! You are just saying that to eat all the dark chocolate ones.. you haven’t even touched the white ones.” His smile crinkles up into moon crescents are how much of a baby she was. He always liked how youthful she was. It was reinvigorating for him to be unapologetically himself with someone who did the same.

YN is chewing on the tarty delicacy, “What? Ngh, no-“ She says as she pops another in her mouth. Taehyung only stares at her blankly for a moment before the smile returns to his face.

“Since you look cute wearing my shirt as you eat my food, I will let it slide.” He says with small chuckle. His free hand taps against the small nightstand table that they had turned into a restaurant platter.

YN shifts in the ribbed chair and leans forward. “Then let me feed you!” She bats her lashes in her particular way that makes Taehyung go weak in the knees. She takes the initiative to bring her chair closer to his and leans forward, “Say Ahh~”

“Ah~” He song songs to her back to her in perfect key as his mouth makes a circular shape. His eyes are large and doe-like when they make eye contact. Her heart flutters like the first time.

YN picks up a medium-sized strawberry dipped in chocolate and brings it to his mouth for him to bite into it. The action is so innocent, but Taehyung aims to tease his baby whenever he can. He purposely bites into the tart fruit so that the juice coats her her fingers and his mouth before taking her fingers to lick the access chocolate-infused strawberry residue.

“Delicious,” He whispers as his eyes never leave hers. He knew how easy it was to charm her. She was wrapped around his finger.

YN bites down on her lip. If it were not for his teasing nature, she would have been perplexed by the blatant act of submission from him. The two of them often tried to outdo each other, but Taehyung’s strength and habit of spanking had considerable influence. “Do I taste good?”

“Show me.” He plays along, but he raises a brow knowingly as though to provoke her. The reaction his sly move elicits comes in the form of her returning her gaze back to her steak and bubbling on it shyly. His baby.

A few glasses of champagne later, Taehyung is tipsy. Despite not being one for alcohol, there was a certain charm about champagne and the girl that he loved that made the night all the more wondrous. Her presence in itself was intoxicating, but the sparkling alcohol softened the edge.

“Let me show you a trick, jagi.” Taehyung chirps to her as he opens the bottle with his signature move. It takes a mere flick of the wrist and a smug grin to make her laugh at how dorky, but cute he was. “Was Oppa cool?”

“Mmm. Was he?” YN likes to tease him, tapping her cheeks. She had no interest in drinking, but she was always eager to look after Taehyung if the time was right.

The lack of a compliment makes his lips pout; the small action complementing his hair that falls over his eyes. “You don’t think Oppa is cool?” His voice becomes higher in tone and he squeezes her hand to pull her closer.

It was rare, but seeing Taehyung as a clingy boyfriend threw her heart into triple time. His grip on her hand was light, but still firm when he pulls her close and holds her in his arms. “Oppa.. I think you are cool..”

“아? 맞아요?” He asks with a small grin spreading across his face as he admires her soft features. The little debbtails about her are endearing and makes him want her even more. He giggles - a rare feat that he feels only with her.

“오빠가 예뻐요.” YN whispers to him as she pecks his lips faintly. It is the times like this: when YN is in his lap and her arms are wrapped around his shoulders in a tight embrace that he feels the safest.

The compliments makes him turn even more red and his face scrunches up into the sweetest arrangement possible. “아이고... 하지마..” The satoori drawl is evident when he speaks; the Standard Seoul accent that he picked up after years of living in Seoul gone from how flustered he feels.

“My baby boy is so pretty,” She presses on while stroking his cheeks gently. Each touch leaves a trail of scarlet and Taehyung thinks he might faint from how charming she is. “Oppa is my baby boy.. right?”

Under normal circumstances, he would never give in to being her baby boy. He liked to think of himself as her protector, her lover, the one who was her equal and caregiver. He had been raised where the man always took control and stepped up to the plate when necessary, but taking a break from that was something he liked to do once in a while. Especially with her.

“맞아..” he whispers into her chest so that he can hear her heartbeat. It beats to the same cadence and he wonders if he has ever felt this alive before.

YN smiles alluringly in his direction and begins to push his hair back from his forehead to kiss his hairline. “Are you tired baby? We can rest-“

“No! I want to be awake for every moment with you.” He whispers as he nuzzles his face between her breasts before looking up at her. “I want to do something fun.”

YN hums, “Something fun?” This earns her a quick nod. “How about this.. remember the Van Gogh paint set I bought? Let’s work on that!”

His eyes immediately light up and he nods. He had been eyeing the set earlier, but figured waiting until Seoul when YN was no longer there would remind him of the lovely excursion in Paris. “Let’s do that!”

The excitement Taehyung feels bubbles through him as he carries her to the bed and then rushes to his luggage to take out the set she had tucked away. He moves so fast that his white shirt bunches where his plaid pajama pants begin before walking back to the bed where YN lays in one of his white shirts and briefs.

“You can do Almond Blossoms and I’ll do Cafe Terrace at night!” He exclaims as he begins to move the table and lay out the protective paper onto the floor.

YN watches him with a smile before rushing to the bathroom to retrieve water for the brushes. “You remembered how much I love Almond Blossoms.”

“I know you love Rococo paintings the most.. and that one reminds me the most of it,” He admits shyly as he lays out the two canvases and mixed the colors eagerly. “Jagi?”

YN gives a noncommittal hum in response as she sits down beside him. “Mm?”

“사랑해.” He whispers as he lays his head in her lap as he stares up at her. “I love you.. so .. so much.” He whispers while kissing her hand.

“I love you too. More than anything or anyone else in this world.” She whispers to him quietly before pecking his forehead. “Let’s paint.”

Taehyung giddily paints with his head in her lap the warm hues that contrast with the cool color to create a nice depth in perspective. Still bubbly, his right hand never leaves her while he paints with his left. The little things like this made him happy that he was ambidextrous.

“You paint so well, Tae!” She exclaims as she looks over from her own painting to take a glance at his. It mimicked the original perfectly and she is reminded of the immense talent that Taehyung has into everything.

Taehyung blushes at the compliment and wraps her hand over his heart. “Do you know how fast my heart beats whenever you say things like this?”

“I say it from my own heart to yours.” She replies with a small giggle as she brushes her nose against his own repeatedly. “I love you~.”

Taehyung giggles as he shifts to paint his initials onto her palm. “Mmm~ and now you are mine.” This prompts her to use her own brush to draw on his cheek.

“And now you are mine!” YN chirps in reply as they both burst into fits of laughter. His heart was racing instantly. “We are even now.”

Taehyung sits up before attacking her with tickles, while still being careful not to ruin the paintings as he climbs on top of her.

“Tae-taehyung!” She says in a fit of laughter as she holds on to him while trying to get away from him, but she never goes too far.

The next morning, YN awakes from her slumber with Taehyung spooning her tightly. He always was a late sleeper, but he slept like a baby when he did. It makes her happy to see him content when they would exchange their struggles amongst each other in the best way an idol and a student could.

Being the little spoon had its own merits when it came to having warmth and the security of having someone there, but it also proved a struggle when trying to get get out of the bed in the morning. It is even more pressing when Taehyung snuggles himself deeper into her neck with a small whine of “아닌데..”

“Tae.. I have to pee.” She whines in response as she shifts to look at his sleepy eyes. Once more, the pout from last night is there and she remembers the cute displays of aegyo paired with Taehyung’s whining that kept her amused the entire night.

Not one to judge, Taehyung says two words only: “Hold it.”

She bursts into laughter before squirming out of his embrace and wiggling out of the bed to stand up. “I’ll just order breakfast for us after, okay?”

Taehyung opens one eye of defiance and nods. “Okay.” He says simply as he cuddles the pillow to envision that it is her.

Eating together was the staple of their time together as Taehyung often asked to be fed and desired to feed her at every moment. His love language made him eager to give, but being in the receiving end made him happy too. The little domestic things, such as eating crepes in bed while they talked excitedly about what they should do for the rest of the day set both of their hearts aflame.

“Let’s go shopping.” YN suggests. The three words make Taehyung do a double take. For as long as he had known her, he knew the rarity in YN desiring to shop. “I want to buy you a present..”

Taehyung pouts slightly. “Yah.. I don’t want you to spend your money on me.”

“Tae.. I am buying you something.” She chirps as she feeds him another crepe and leans forward to wipe the powder from his upper lip.

Not to be outdone, Taehyung holds up his finger. “On one condition.. I buy you something too.. I have a date planned for us tonight and you need a new dress.”

“A new dress?” She raises a brow to her hairline. Being in Paris was one thing, but with the style that Taehyung had, the dress would no doubt be a more than a month’s salary.

“Let me spoil you... please?” He asks in a soft tone as he takes her hand in his and kisses the back of it. “You will love it. I promise.”

Always one to give in, she only nods when he sends her his boxy smile. “Fine..”

Unbeknownst to her, Taehyung knew that tonight would be one to forever change their lives. Tonight was the night that he would propose to her and she would be his forever. The cross between lover to fiancée was what he anticipated the most each time he thought of the diamond ring burning a hole in his suitcase.

“I think you look beautiful,” Taehyung says as he loops his fingers into the fabric of the little black dress. The pout on her lips is evident from the knowledge of the price tag. She knew Taehyung and his appetite for fashion knew no bounds, but this?

YN turns slightly red as she looks in the mirror to turn slightly. “You really think so? The price.. Ah..”

“You don’t have to worry about it.. do you know how happy you have made me these passed three years as your boyfriend? No monetary amount can be put on that.” He whispers in her ear as he snakes his arms around her. “You look absolutely beautiful..”

“When did you learn to speak so prettily?” She asks with a visible pout as they sway from side to side. He has long discarded his tan jacket to feel more of her warmth.

Thank the heavens that the personal shopper had sensed the emotions running rampant and took an exit stage left.

“I wanted to sound like a native speaker.. you started learning Korean too.” He chuckles into her ear as he pulls back to spin her around. “I think you look amazing.. you have to wear this tonight.”

YN hums in reply, “Oh? You like this that much?”

“I love it,” He says with a small grin. The dress was simple, yet elegant. It was her style and complimented the more bold choices that Taehyung wore. “It’s classy and chic... just like you.”

YN turns to face him and bites her lip. “Sometimes it feels like you do all the giving and I just receive.. you wouldn’t even let me buy you that scarf from Gucci.”

“Jagi, I told you I don’t want you spending your money.” He whispers as he strokes her cheek gingerly. “Besides, your curves look amazing in this dress.”

YN plays with the hem of the dress. “I’m surprised you chose this one.. you are usually more.. traditional.” She raises a knowing brow.

“It’s only because I know you will look better without it on.” He whispers into her ear before clicking his tongue. His tone drops a single octave, making her feel weak in the knees as he tilts his head to the side.

YN stares into his eyes, instantly detecting the seduction he was doting out for her. The tension was real and never was it more prominent when his hand danced along her thigh. “Then make haste on your promise.”

“We’re done shopping here!” Taehyung exclaims as he is greeted with the familiar Coco Chanel mnemonic.

“Wow,” is all that Taehyung can say as he watches YN step out of the bathroom. For years, he had seen her as his darling girlfriend with the adjective ‘adorable’ enshrined with every thought of her. The allure of her charms manifested whenever she taught him something new, such as the sun’s ray of light is only what we feel eight minutes after it has passed, or her being flirty while toying with his hair and calling him his favorite honorific. However, this? The level of beauty that she was presenting to him was transcendent and left him resorting to the darkest parts of his desires.

And who was he to say no to them?

YN feels a bit confident when she sees the surprised look on Taehyung’s face. She watches as it contorts from surprise into a look of satisfaction with the slightest hint of smugness. “I look good, don’t I?”

“So good,” He whispers as he crosses the path to snake his arms around her to draw her flush against his chest. “Almost do not want to leave here.. What if we just stay here?” He asks while pulling her to his lap and toying with the excess fabric of the dress. It’s amusing to him how it hugs her in all the right places and is reminded of what he has always known. She is beautiful both inside and out.

YN laughs, “The restaurant you booked for us will not take kindly to your cancelling.” She jokes playfully as she smooths out his blazer and pecks his lips. “Which… you still have yet to tell me which one it is or where it is?”

“Because I know you and that you would micromanage every detail and I can’t have my little jagi doing that~” He sing songs to her with a small smirk pressing on his lips. “Just now that we are not overdressed and tonight is going to be perfect.” And he means every word of it.

The drive to Le Jules Verne is nothing short of eventful, just as everything has always been when it comes to Taehyung. He could barely keep his hands off of her; the moment the taxi driver arrived, he was snaking his arms around her waist to hold her close and drawing small circles over her thigh absentmindedly. The nibbles along on her ear led to the string of giggles that never seemed to end the more that he kissed her and the caress against her bum was enough to make her turn red and whine to him the the taxi driver would see.

Taehyung could care less.

Tonight would be the night that he would pop the question, completely unbeknownst to her. He knew that Paris was the place for lovers, the place where reality and fantasy intersected in the west way possible. He also knew of her eagerness to practice her French while turning back to look at him and ask, ‘Did I look cool?’ as he smiled back to her in reassurance. Just seeing her smile was enough to bring him to his knees, but the way that she loved him ardently and never sacrificed what they had for the thoughts of others - that was what made him get on one knee to propose.

Their relationship had not been an easy one. Time and time again, insecurities flared during the long periods apart. Furthermore, despite ARMY being very loving and accepting in general to any and all of the loved ones that Bangtan adored, there had been many who loathed her with a passion and wanted to depreciate their love for each other with every possible excuse. Hoards of ARMYs swearing she did not love him enough when she did not attend a Korean university to be nearer to him. A long list of people complaining how she spent only the summer in Seoul for the sole purpose of keeping Taehyung away from the fans and the sole reason for his frowns when the smiles did not appear fast enough in interviews. The worst of it all had been them flooding her social media with hate comments, demeaning her personality, looks, and intellect to the point where private seemed the only viable option and even that opted for screenshots of her (rare) stories.

The fights had been terrible, especially when Taehyung began to question if she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Her worries of ‘not being good enough’ often fostered in her offering to set him up with other people or ‘let him go to find someone to make him happier’. His own insecurities began to flourish when she admitted that she did not turn to him first when it times of need and it festered when she told him that he no longer made her happy: nothing did.

Nevertheless, the two persevered to be where they were now: Paris in the springtime. With his fingers entwined with hers while walking through the entrance of the Eiffel Tower to the second floor haute French restaurant, nothing could compare to the giddiness he was feeling. He is keenly aware of the coruscating lights that dot the beautiful structure, the epitome of Paris, and how bright her eyes look when she sees it It was her first time. It was her first time and she was able to experience with him.

“It’s.. It’s beautiful!” Her voice almost falls completely silent while staring up at the breathtaking structure built of iron widgets and the soul of France. Years of imagining her life in the romantic city is more than enough to bring her to tears and she covers her mouth. “Taehyung..” She whispers chastely as she turns to him.

Taehyung sends her a small boxy smile, just as he always had. The reliability of his grin was more than enough to make her feel more secure than ever. He does not budge when she throws herself into his arms and kisses the top of her forehead repeatedly. “I’m so glad that I get to experience your first time here… You look so beautiful when you’re happy.” He whispers as he shifts to peck her lips, “Now.. let’s get inside and we can walk around a bit more. Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She smiles warmly as she holds on to him tightly with a fluttering heart and they make their way up the stairs and to the elevator.

After ordering their finest wine and the specialty, YN is left under the watchful eye of Taehyung. His stare was dark and alluring as he initiated hooky under the table. There was nothing that he loved more than to see her flustered because of him. There was something endearing about the way she was innocent to his dark desires.

Sexual encounters were not a forgotten moment for Taehyung the few times that they happened. The chemistry was there, no doubt, when his hand ghosted over her hip and he gave her the look prior to his voice octaves dropping. Her soft voice murmuring Oppa was more than enough for him to lose all control.

“You’ve been staring at me,” YN murmurs with a blush as she brings the caramelized onion to her lips.

Taehyung chuckles as he looks at her and unbuttons his suit as he returns back to his coq au vin. “It’s hard for me not to.. you look breathtaking tonight, just as you always do.”

His words send a flame across her cheeks and she finds herself growing even more shy in the process.

“I don’t think I will be able to control myself tonight.” He confesses after a sip of champagne and leans forward. “I couldn’t stop thinking about our time in Seoul.. after the final concert.”

She did not know that it were possible, but she becomes the definition of red. She knew exactly what he meant: the concert adrenaline has rushed through Taehyung the night as he brought her back to his hotel room and ate her out for hours. He even refused to let her reciprocate after tugging at his hair repeatedly from the overstimulation. He let her fuck his face until she cried and murmured something about it not being the last time before falling asleep.

“I remember how pretty you sounded.. moaning 오빠 like the good girl you are. I even taught your stubborn self manners..” he drawls as his knee parts hers with a seductive purr. “I bet you’ll sound even prettier tonight.”

It takes everything in YN to not choke in reply to words of a siren. That was what Taehyung was, eager to make her his and submit to him. “I think it’s time you sound pretty too.”

“I want to.” He deadpans once his wine is finished and nods for the waiter to bring their dessert. “Let’s have dessert on the patio.”

“Patio?” YN asks with furrowed brows prior to dabbing the napkin across her lips for any excess residue.

Taehyung nods as he takes her hand and brings her up. “Yes. We have to go right now.” He sing songs as he guides her to the biggest surprise of her life.

The proposal.

The ground is peppered with pink roses making a makeshift trail as Taehyung walks with their fingers entwines and his head is beating in triple time. Violins greet them with ‘winter bear’ playing lightly in the background to contribute more to the overall serenity. He had meticulously thought of everything by from the strawberry cheesecake dessert in the center of the patio and the flowers surrounding it. Would she say yes? Surely she would.

“Taehyung.. is this for us?” She asks, never letting go of his hand as she walks to the table with him and rests her arms in the table.

Taehyung nods as he picks up a fork and lifts a small bite of cheesecake to her mouth to feed her. “It is.. I thought you may enjoy the scenery a bit more.”

“You can see everything from here.. I would have never expected to be blessed with this view.” She confesses with a flustered look on her face. ��I mean that ardently.. you make me feel secure.”

Taehyung smiles as he leans his head on her shoulder to feed her more. “I hope that I can always give you that security.. for the rest of our lives.”

“I hope so too.” She whispers as she picks up a strawberry that looks much larger than the others and her brows furrow. “This one is cute.”

His heart races. His ring was placed in the makeshift strawberry: this was the moment. “I think you should cut it, first.”

YN nods as she cuts into the juicy strawberry. She is careful to do so, having already an inkling of where this would be going. Was he proposing to her?

She nearly faints when she sees the silver band in the strawberry and to turns to see a beaming Taehyung. Her voice cracks in her throat, “T-taehyung.”

He sends her a warm smile as he gets down on one knee and he takes his hand out of his pocket. “YN-Ah..”

YN’s own heart is racing faster than ever as she fights back the tears that were beginning to well up in her eyes. “Tae.. Taehyung-Oppa..”

“Since the first moment I laid eyes on you, I knew that you were someone special in my life.” He begins as he thinks back to the words he spent countless times reciting to sound like a native speaker. “In the beginning, I thought of you as someone who I needed to take care of, to protect, and love, because you were so fragile.”

“But I was wrong.. you were so much more than a girl that I wanted to love. You were your own person and you never let me or anyone else dictate your life... I was never your only goal.. you loved me for me and continued to be yourself authentically whether or not it the outlook was pretty.” He licks his lips as his grip on the forehead velvet box tightens. “We had our own ups and downs, but that was what made us stronger. I showed you the ugliest parts of myself and you did the same. We learned to love each other as people first and then lovers.”

“They say love is blind and can change your perception of the world if you are not careful, but my vision became perfect when it came to you. You learned to read my emotions, understand the little things about me that I did not understand myself, and reminded me what it meant to be Kim Taehyung, not V. You gave me the normalcy that my job took away.. you even gave me that card.” He laughs as he tried to think of the name. “Bend.. bend a.”

She can’t help but smile with the way he looks at her knowingly. She always would correct him. “Ventra.. and you loved the CTA.” She laughs in the midst to stop herself from being on the brink of tears. How could he be charming even while cracking a joke?

“The experiences we have had together helped me grow.. the times I felt isolated and alone, you were there to be strong even when you struggled too.” His thoughts drift back to her wiping away her own tears to console him, the reassurance that he needed was given to him. “You taught me how to be strong.. you taught me how to continue to go on when I no longer could fight anymore because as long as I had you, I had someone worth fighting for.”

“My parents.. they love you.” He says with a small grin on his face. “My family has been the only consistent entity that I have had since I became an idol. That was what I thought until I met you. You even began to learn Korean just to communicate with us at family dinner.. when you did that, I knew that I needed you as my wife.”

“The sacrifices you’ve made to be with me have been great and not once have I ever thought of taking them for granted. Jagi.. you’re one in a billion and I am never going to let you go.” He smiles warmly. “I love all your little habits. I love how you overplan everything and even included me in them.” This earns him a shy chuckle. “I like how you treat Yeontan like our baby and swaddle him despite him hating it.. I like when you wake up at six in the morning to bake me cakes just because you feel like it.. the times you smile without reason and how infectious your laugh is.”

“It is the way you ask me about little decisions just to remind me that my opinion matters and how you keep me grounded.” He has to bite back his lip. “When I felt like giving everything up, you put my head in your lap and held me as I cried. You told me that you would always be there for me and that you would love me no matter what my decision was. I learned you loved me for me when I could not love myself that way.”

“So with this ring, I am asking you to not only be my wife, but to continue being my best friend, the mother of my children, and soulmate until our last breath. I will love you until the day I die.. for.. I love you more than yesterday but less than tomorrow.. so YN LN. will you marry me?”

YN is brought to tears when he finishes. The trip down memory lane has made her feel all the more tied to him and she never wants to let go of him, ever. “Yes.. yes.. a million times yes!” She says as Taehyung stands to his full height and places the ring onto her finger.

“사랑해.” He whispers into her ear as he kisses her deeply. He wants to transmit every bit of emotion that he feels for her into the kiss with a shaking heart. He wants her to know that she is his first and his last. “정말 사랑해. 난 절대 널 떠나지 않을 거야.” he whispers quietly into her ear and rubs the small of her back.

(trans. I love you so much. I never will leave you. )

After the engagement, the two lovers spent a few moments admiring the view of the Eiffel Tower for a few solemn moments. It was in this moment that they felt infinite and that the world could not throw anything in their way to stop their happiness. How many people were blessed to find their soulmate? Their better half? And all without compromising themselves as people? It was transcendent.

The ride back home goes off without a hitch; the two eagerly embracing each other in every way possible in the backseat as their emotions begin to bubble up. They had taken it to the next level: engaged to be married!

“I want you so bad,” He whispers into her ear with a grunt in the elevator as his hand finds chase on her thigh. All he can think about is making love to her as his fiancée. The dress wraps around her curves like a glove and he thinks she will look so much better without anything on. “Want your pretty mouth moaning my name as I eat you out.”

She gasps as he presses her against the mirrored elevator with his face buried in her neck to leave a hickey. Taehyung had a terrible habit of marking her, especially where anyone could see. She once loathed turtle necks, but with his habit, there was no choice but to give in the the made her feel so good.

“Can’t wait to fill you up with my cum,” He grunts into her ear as he parts her legs with his knee to grind his hard member against her clothed sex. Normally refined, Taehyung was a man starved. “You’re not going to remember any other name but mine when I am done with you, jagi.”

He grips her hips to grind her forward to show how hard he was, “Look at how fucking hard oppa is for you. You like seeing your oppa wanting you?” He does not stop his ministrations when the elevator door opens and guides her to their Parisian suite that he seemed to know like the back of his hand.

“I love it so much, Taehyung.” She moans as he presses her against the door and fumbles to get the room key from his blazer. The lack of honorific makes him growl before leaving another love bite on her shoulder. “I-I mean oppa.”

He chuckles darkly once the door is open and pulls her in swiftly to pin her against the door. “I guess I have to remind you who you belong to then.. huh?” He asks smugly.

“You’ll look so good with my cock buried inside of you..” He whispers before hoisting her up and carrying her to the bed. He moves at the speed of lightning, kissing along her inner thigh while undoing her shoes without much trouble. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to make love to you? And now I get to do it as my wife.”

“Wife-to-be…” She corrects as he lifts the dress over her hips and makes her sit up.

Taehyung scoffs, “Wife.” He repeats quietly before attacking her with another kiss. His hands roam around her body, focusing on each crevice and curve that entices him more while grinding his cock against her wet sex. She was practically dripping when his fingers slipped between her satin underwear. “You’re so wet for me already?”

“Mmm.” She moans while looking at him, “Let me take care of you first.. oppa.”

Her purr makes Taehyung stop for a moment. As a man who loved to be in control, he did not want to stop himself from eating her out for hours and then thrusting into her tight cunt for the first time. Yet, the offer is far too enticing when he remembers how her pretty lips look wrapped around his cock and he can’t say no.

So he doesn’t.

Taehyung rolls off of her to admire how she looks in her lacy black bra with matching panties. Every curve of her body is evident and he knows that he has hit the absolute jackpot. How could anyone be that intelligent, charming, and sexy? Her worries of always being the lesser in the relationship were ill-founded.

“I bet oppa can’t wait to get his fat cock sucked by his princess, can he?” She provokes him with the vulgar language while unbuckling his belt and tossing it to the side. He sits back, amused, at the seductive sway of her hips. “Lift your hips.”

She does so without problem.

She remains on her knees as she begins to stroke the underside of his cock through his boxers. Her eyes then avert from his nether regions to his eyes with a shy smile, “You should tell me how it feels.”

“And let you know how good you are making me feel? Aish..” He groans, the satoori lacing into his words while grinding his hips into her palm for more friction. “Don’t tease me…. I want to feel how tight you feel around my big, fat cock when you clench so hard around my fingers.”

YN remains amused as she rests an elbow on his knee and lets her head rest on her left hand, “You like knowing that you’re the only person to be inside of me.. don’t you?”

“I fucking love it,” He grunts when she flicks her wrist just the way he likes it and it has him jutting his hips slightly more forward in the process. “Want to fill you up so badly… I want to cum inside of you.”

The lewd confession makes her turn red, but it only ignites her confidence to push forward as she tugs his boxers down to her ankles to be met with his standing cock that slaps his stomach. His dress shirt is crinkled and the blazer at his shoulders sags down as he stares at her knowingly.

“Be a good girl and suck my cock, won’t you?” He asks with the tone of a siren. He is alluring in all ways, the dark stare I this eyes and the smug look from looking down at her. It turned him on to see the girl with such high standards and work ethics reduced to his good girl wrapped around his finger.

And he knew she liked it too.

YN hollows her cheeks as she begins to pump the base of his cock. She can almost feel how wet she is when small moans of pleasure begin go erupt from Taehyung. She loved how his deep voice sputtered with each stroke of her tongue.

“Fuck, fuck, just like that.” He grunts in pleasure as his hips buckle forward to hit the back of her throat. “Such a good girl and all for me.” He rasps before slapping her ass.

Taehyung has to wonder how she’s gotten better at sucking cock for a few moments before he pushes her off when he feels a knot begin to form in his stomach.

“Want to eat your pretty pussy out,” He says as he picks her up and pins her against the satin sheets. Her cheeks flush red at his lewd words and he asks himself how he managed to be so lucky to have a girl like her.

He quickly discards the black lingerie that adorns her skin and he mentally thanks himself for sneaking it in last minute. It hugs her every curve and he only wants more of her. All thoughts of before disappear once he spreads her knees and places an open mouthed kiss over her wet cunt.

“아름다운,” He whispers before spitting onto her cunt and takes her fully into his mouth. The reaction is instantaneous when she nearly folds into two and he laughs in response. It sends a vibration against her clit which only makes it more amusing to him when he has to hold her still. “Baby, stay still.”

Before she can protest, he flicks her clit with his tongue and never looks away from her with such intensity that she feels like she will faint. Kim Taehyung was a force to be reckoned with and she had no qualms learning how to reckon him. He draws figure eights over the hem of nerves to elicit a string of whimpers from her.

“Tae - tae -taehyung-“ she chokes out when he decides she is to his liking and begins to thrust a finger inside of her tight, wet cunt.

Taehyung pins down her leg to rest his chin on top of it. “How do you call me properly?”

“Taehyung!” She cries when he adds another finger and thrusts deeper into her. She was so tight that it made him wonder if he would fit.

“Taehyung.. what..” he provokes in a darker tone. “Be a good girl and say it. Just me and you here.” He adds another finger and increases his speed. She’s almost a sobbing mess when he purposely brushes against her g-spot. “자기~.”

She squirms more in his embrace to cause more friction, but it is to no avail. “Taehyung.. 제발..” she whimpers to him. “오빠..” she cracks.

“Good girl,” Taehyung whispers before curling his fingers inside of her and soon she completely becomes putty in his arms. She cums all over his fingers, her hips still twitching with he brushes the inside of her folds. “괜찮아?”

YN nods as her chest rises and falls periodically. “Yes..” she sits up before wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulls him on top of her. “I’m ready,”

“I know you are.” He teases as he shows her the white substance that coats his fingers and licks it slowly. “You taste like you’re ready too..”

“I want to be on top.” She says before using all her pressure to climb on top of him. Despite knowing her nature, it still throws Taehyung for a loop.

Taehyung thinks she’s sexy when she takes charge. He likes it even more when she lets him guide her hips onto his throbbing cock that was beginning to drip precum .

“I’m on the pill,” YN says with a blush on her cheeks.

Taehyung chuckles for a moment as he continues to stroke the base of his cock for a few moments with the remainder of her cum. “So you knew this would happen?”

“No.. I just thought..” she turns as red as a tomato.

“I’m not really a fan of condoms.” Taehyung confesses with a chuckle. “So I like the idea of fucking your tight pussy raw.. but I’ll pull out just to be sure.”

“Mmm,” she nods as she finally sinks down so just the head of his cock was pressing against her folds. “Fuck..”

“You can take more..” Taehyung coos as he pushes her hair behind her shoulder to begin leaving kitten licks across her collarbone.

“I can.. you’re so big..” she whimpers as she places her hand in his shoulders to take more of him. Taehyung has to take a sharp breath when she clenches around him so hard. She wasn’t even at half of his cock yet and he felt like he was seeing stars.

Taehyung smiles at her, “Your pussy is all wet and tight.. just for me, yeah?” He asks with a click of his tongue. He was growing a bit impatient with this; how could he focus when she was clenching around him so tightly?

“Shit..” she whispers one last time before sinking onto his cock completely. Her walls cling around taehyung tighter than ever, making him want him to take all of her.

“Can I thrust up?” He asks, eager to move. She felt so good around him that he struggled to keep his self control.

She gives him a commital hum of approval, “Mm,” She can barely think straight when his hands up both of her hips to piston his hips deeper into her tight sex. She can feel his pulsating cock as it begins to fill her walls, “Fucking hell Taehyung-“

“You sound so pretty when you take my cock like the good girl you are,” He rasps prior to slapping her ass. His grip only tightens with each thrust; each of his actions only embolden when he hears her soft mewls of pleasure. “Who knew you were a good cockslut for me, huh, baby?”

“Oh - shut up -“ She can barely choke out the words when Taehyung brushes against her g-spot ever so slightly.

What a fucking tease he was.

Taehyung is not fairing any better than her, especially not when her walls clench around his throbbing cock. As generous as he is, it’s hard for him to not chase after his own high when she makes him feel this good. He seriously thinks he must have saved the country in his past life to have all of her to himself.

“Just like that, babygirl. You feel so tight around me. I bet you’ll be cumming all over my fat cock soon. Huh?” He remarks cockily as his fingers find her clit to draw figure-eight’s on the sensitive bud. She nearly doubles over from how well he seems to know.

Each time he thrusts into her, he bottoms out inside of her to the point of no return. “T-taehyung-“ She stammers out, “I’m close-“

“Fuck, me too baby.” His voice lowers an octave from the pleasure that was soon to arrive. “Can’t wait to cum all over you,”

His thrusts become quicker in speed as he repeatedly begins to hit her g-spot; each time sending her into another wave of pleasure. Her hips ritochet from how good it feels.

“I’m c-cumming,” She chokes out as her arms wrap around his shoulders, holding him tighter from the impending euphoria. No one even came close to making her feel this good. Ever.

Smirking, Taehyung knows all too well. “You can’t wait for me like a good girl, huh?” It’s a shock that his voice manages to stay stable when his cock is seconds away from exploding with pleasure. “I’m close too baby-“

“Fu-fuck!” She stutters out with another thrust of Taehyung’s hips into her wet core before she soon cups all over his cock. She wilts into his arms while lazily lifting her hips to the same cadence of Taehyung’s pistoning hips.

The wind is nearly knocked out of him as he pulls out of her quickly as his own high rapidly rushes toward him. Her pussy was so wet and tight that it was milking him for all that he had, “Fuck-“ He grunts as he pumps his cock once, twice, three times before spilling onto his stomach.

Only the sound of heavy breathing fills the suite as Taehyung pulls her close into his arms and kissing her temple.

“You’re sticky,” She whines with a pout as Taehyung only laughs in response.

“You should help me clean up.” He provokes with a brow raise at the girl.

Never one to back down from a challenge, she only rolls her eyes in faux disapproval. “You know where that will leave us..”

“I do,” He whispers as he stares into her eyes with that longing look of his he had always sent her. “It’ll leave us together. Here. In Paris,” He always had been too romantic for his own good, too romantic for her to say no to any of his ideas.

“And if we end up spending all of our time on top of each other? Instead of actually exploring Paris?” She presses on; the chase was always fun between the two of them. The push and pull only end up right back with one another.

“Mmm. We’ll always have Paris.” Taehyung whispers lazily before closing the distance between the two of them with a full heart and a new petal of lust blooming in his chest.

- - - - -

Don’t be a stranger and let me know what you think! Let me know if there should be another part too.

#taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung x reader #bts x reader #v x reader #v x you #taehyung x oc

229 notes · View notes

5-falsehoods-phonated · 3 years ago

Text

You Don’t Own Me (You Don’t Even Know Me)

Chapter 1

Summary: As the son of a Baron, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement rather than true love. Still, when he is sent away to marry an older, more powerful Earl, he is determined to make the best of his situation. Despite the Earl's indifference towards him, Roman forges ahead and prepares to become the best husband he can possibly be, making new friends along the way. But when his fiancé's demeanor turns from cold to cruel, Roman must shift all of his focus to survival, and find a way out of his marriage before it's too late.

Ships: Logince (Logan x Roman) Moxiety (Virgil x Patton)

Content Warnings: arranged marriage, abuse, attempted sexual assault, murder, poisoning, character death, hurt/comfort, angst

Word Count: 2604

Read on AO3: here!

Cowritten with @ironwoman359 masterlist

False masterlist

As the son of the Baron of Falkirk, Roman Sanders always knew that when he married, it would be due to a political arrangement. There was a small part of him that mourned the loss of the chance to meet a beautiful stranger and fall hopelessly in love, like the characters in the fairytales that his nanny read to him as a child. But those fantasies were just that, fairytales. The fanciful whims of a child had no place in Roman’s life now that he had come of age. His marriage was to serve one purpose: to elevate his family.

And Roman had been training for that purpose his entire life.

Barely a month had passed since Roman’s twentieth birthday when he was called into his father’s study. He knew that whatever the reason for his summons, it must be important, as his father hated more than anything to be interrupted in his work. Roman knocked twice on the familiar, thick oak doors, and held his breath until he heard his father’s muffled answer from within.

“Come in.”

Roman stepped inside, and was surprised to see his mother and older brother already in the room, seated opposite his father’s old mahogany desk. As he entered, his father stood, gesturing to an empty chair that sat beside his mother.

“Have a seat, son.”

Roman sat.

“I have good news,” his father continued. “As you have now reached the proper age, one of my primary interests has been to find an appropriate arrangement for your marriage.”

Roman’s heartbeat quickened, and he forced himself to remain calm, folding his hands in his lap. This was it. This was the moment that he’d been preparing for nearly all of his life; the moment that would shape his entire future.

“There were many factors to consider,” his father said, stepping around the desk to stand beside his wife. “It was not an easy decision. However, your mother and I have entered an agreement that we believe will be very profitable, for you and for the family.”

Roman nodded. His father was a shrewd negotiator; he was sure that, whatever the terms of the engagement were, the Sanders family would not lose more than what it stood to gain.

“So, you’ve reached a decision then, Father?” he asked, taking a deep breath and willing his expression to remain neutral.

“I have,” his father agreed. “You are to be wed to the Earl of Asberg, Lord Garret Howard. I have just received a message from his footman: they arrived at the Fireside Inn late this afternoon. Tomorrow, they will come to the manor to bring you to Lord Howard’s estate to begin the engagement period.”

Roman bit back a gasp, his eyes growing wide.

“Lord Howard?” he repeated. “I was not even aware the earl was looking for a suitor.”

“For many years, he was not,” Roman’s mother spoke up. “His youth was spent primarily securing the political and financial status of his late father’s estate. Only recently has he turned his attention to more social matters.”

“Your dowry aside, the connections we will gain through this marriage will be of an immense benefit to us,” said Roman’s father. “I know you know your duty son; I trust you will make us proud.”

“I will, Father,” Roman said, getting to his feet. His father held out a hand, and Roman shook it firmly, doing his best to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. “Thank you.”

His mother and brother stood as well, and Roman let his mother pull him into a quick hug and plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Congratulations dear,” she said as she pulled away, a proud smile on her face. “I know you’ll do just wonderfully.”

“Thank you, Mother,” he said, squeezing her hand, and then his brother was in front of him.

“Congrats, Ro,” he said quietly.

“Thanks, Remy,” Roman whispered, and when they shook hands, Roman hoped Remy didn’t notice the slight tremble in his grip.

“The carriage will arrive at eight o’clock tomorrow morning,” Roman’s father declared. “I’ve already instructed the maids to pack your clothing. Whatever other preparations you need, I suggest you make them now.”

“I will. Thank you, Father,” Roman said again, bowing his head slightly to his family.

He left the study, walking through the halls of the manor as though walking through a dream. He reached his quarters, and it was only after he shut the door behind him that he realized he very well might never walk the path from the study to his room again. He sat on the edge of his bed, his formal posture falling from his shoulders like a forgotten shawl now that he was alone.

True to his father’s words, a trunk lay open at the foot of his bed, his shirts and trousers and suits all carefully folded and placed inside by the maid. Another, smaller trunk had been placed beside it, no doubt for Roman to fill with whatever else he wished to bring with him to his fiance’s estate.

His fiance…

Sun, moon, and stars, he was engaged. It wasn’t as though he didn’t know it was coming; he was the youngest of his parents’ three children, after all. As the oldest son, Remington would inherit the title Baron of Falkirk and all the duties that came with it, while Roman and Remus would be married into other families to increase the Sanders’ political influence. So Roman had always known that he was destined to leave the family manor.

That didn’t necessarily mean he was ready to.

He sighed, sweeping his eyes around his room. What would he even take with him? A single evening was hardly enough time for him to consider all that he owned and decide what to bring on a permanent move halfway across the country. Should he bring his books, his star charts, his journals and quills? Or would he be able to find suitable replacements for them all at Lord Howard’s estate? Would he even have time to indulge in his hobbies as the husband of an earl? If only he’d had more than a day’s notice of his departure, then he’d have time to think!

A light knock on the door pulled Roman from his thoughts, and he straightened instantly.

“Who is it?” he called.

“It’s me, Roman,” came the answer, and Roman relaxed at the sound of his brother’s voice.

“Come on in, Rem.”

Remy stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and giving Roman what was probably meant to be a smile, but came out more like a grimace.

“So, it’s finally time,” he said, and Roman rolled his eyes.

“No need to sound like I’m on my deathbed, Remy. It’s just an engagement, we all knew this was coming.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Remy sighed, plopping down on the bed next to Roman and leaning back against the headboard. “Still...I had sort of hoped you’d end up somewhere decently close by. Gremont, for instance, I know Lady Lishan has a daughter who’s eligible. Or maybe Ravenhold. Then you could at least visit. Asberg is…”

“Far,” Roman agreed.

He’d been trying not to think about it. Asberg was at least four days away by carriage, maybe longer depending on the weather, and Roman had never been so far away from home unaccompanied in his life.

“Hey though, the wedding’s only six months away. I’ll get to see you then! And who knows, maybe I’ll be able to come visit for the harvest festival next year...or you could come visit me!”

“Only if you serve coffee,” Remy joked, and Roman laughed, the tension in the room easing just a bit.

“Help me pack?” Roman asked. “I can’t figure out if I should bring everything or nothing.”

“Hmm…” Remy sat up and scanned the room. “My advice? Bring only what you think you can’t live without.”

Roman hesitated, then looked up at his brother.

“You?” he suggested. He tried to shoot Remy a playful smirk, but he could feel the corners of his mouth wobbling, and he knew from the sad smile on his brother’s face that Remy didn’t buy it.

“I wish, Ro-bro,” Remy said, nudging their shoulders together. “But I think one son running away from home is enough of a scandal for Father to deal with.”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” Roman said, looking down and fiddling with his fingers in his lap. “What...what do you think Remus would say? If he were here to see me off?”

“Honestly?” Remy looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then snorted. “He wouldn’t say anything, he’d just lock you in the bedroom and throw away the key to make you stay. Or kidnap you and hide you somewhere so that the wedding had to be cancelled altogether.”

“You’re probably right,” Roman said. He chuckled, but the laugh felt hollow, like a piece of it was missing...gone forever and irreplaceable, just like his brother. “Did...did I ever tell you that he came to see me, the night he left?” he asked quietly.

“No,” Remy answered. “But I had a feeling that he did.”

“He asked me to go with him,” Roman said. “To leave you and Mother and Father and everything we’d ever known, to go chasing ‘freedom’ and ‘adventure,’ like we were children again.” He shook his head, closing his fingers into fists. “I told him I couldn’t.”

“I think he knew that,” Remy said. “But I...I also think he felt he had to at least ask you for himself. I don’t think he’d really believe that you wanted to stay unless he heard you say it.”

“And I did want to stay,” Roman insisted. “I begged him to stay. But he wouldn’t listen, and he left, and now it’s been three years and I have to leave you and Mother and Father and everything I’ve ever known anyway, except now I’ll be alone.” Roman looked up at Remy, his eyes shining with un-shed tears. “What if...what if I made the wrong choice?”

Remy pulled him closer, hooking his chin over Roman’s head like he did when they were small and Roman would trip in the garden and scrape his knee.

“I can’t answer that for you, Ro-bro,” he murmured. “That’s something you have to figure out. But for what it’s worth...I’m glad you stayed. It- it would have been even harder, I think, to lose both of you.”

“You’re losing me now,” Roman whispered, but Remy shook his head.

“No,” he said vehemently. “I’m not. You said it yourself, Roman, the wedding’s only in six months. And Asberg may be far, but it’s not like it's across the ocean or anything. We’ll still be able to see each other once in a while. Remus…” Remy sighed, and tightened his grip around Roman’s shoulders. “Remus left us for himself. You’re leaving us for the family. That’s the difference.”

“Yeah...I know,” Roman said, sniffling a little and nestling deeper into his brother’s hold. “I’m still gonna miss you though.”

“I’ll miss you too, Ro-bro,” Remy said, dropping a kiss into Roman’s hair. “I’ll miss you too.”

Remy eventually left Roman to pack, and the rest of the night passed in a blur. Roman finally decided what to bring with him (his used notebooks and journals, his collection of star charts, and an old cloak that the maid hadn’t packed because it was torn, but that Roman couldn’t bear to part with) and what to leave behind (unused sketchbooks, his set of inks and quills, and the ancient paint set that he hadn’t touched in almost a year), but when he lay down to try and get some rest, sleep evaded him. He tossed and turned for what felt like hours, unable to stop his thoughts from racing. Morning arrived far too soon for his liking, and before he’d really processed what was happening, he was standing at the bottom of the front steps of the manor with his family, waiting for the carriage to arrive.

"Now Roman, remember," his father said, and Roman looked up at him. "Lord Howard oversees an estate far larger than our own. Whatever duties you are expected to perform, they will be on a scale far greater than what you are accustomed to here."

"He may look to you to aid him in business, but he may also expect you to oversee more of the social obligations. He has dealings with many different families, after all," Roman's mother added, and Roman nodded.

"Politics is never just about numbers," he recited, and his father's lips twitched in a small smile.

"That's right, son. Remember all that we've taught you, and you'll do fine."

A carriage pulled in at the end of the manor's drive, and Roman took a deep breath.

"Remember to write!" his mother said, pressing a kiss to his cheek and giving his shoulder a squeeze.

Roman placed a hand over hers, then shot Remy a lopsided smile.

"Any last words for me, Rem?"

Remy smirked, and ruffled Roman's hair.

"If you let Earlship go to your head, I’ll cut you out of the estate when I take over."

"Honestly, Remington," their mother said, rolling her eyes, and Remy winked at Roman.

The carriage reached them then, and Roman quickly moved to fix his hair. A footman hopped down from a seat on the rear, and bowed to Roman's father.

"Good morning," he said as he straightened. "I come on behalf of my Lord Garret Howard, Earl of Asberg, to deliver a dowry payment to Lord Phillip Sanders, Baron of Falkirk, and to collect his lordship's fiance, Lord Roman Sanders."

"Thank you, sir," said Roman's father, nodding to the footman. "Our family is honored by this union. May I present my son, Roman."

Roman inclined his head to the servant, who bowed again, quick and low.

"A pleasure, my lord. Allow me to gather your things."

Roman's luggage was loaded onto the back of the carriage, and Roman tried not to think about the large trunk that was unloaded and left at his father's feet. He hadn't been told the amount of his dowry, and he didn't want to know. For some reason, it made him feel strange to think about money being given to his family in return for his hand; it made it seem more like he'd been bought, when that wasn't the case!

“Well,” he said when everything was ready to go. “I guess this is it.”

“Safe journey, son,” his father said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Make us proud.”

Roman swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. He gave his family as strong a smile as he could muster, then he stepped into the carriage and the footman closed the door behind him. Roman drew the curtains back from the window and peered behind them as the carriage pulled away from his home. Remy and his mother were both waving, and even his father raised his hand briefly in farewell. Roman watched them grow smaller and smaller, and then the carriage turned out of the grounds and he couldn’t see them anymore. The manor that had been his entire world for the past twenty years shrank into the distance, until it was nothing but a speck on the horizon.

Roman finally turned around so he was facing the direction the carriage was traveling. His father’s words echoed in his mind, and he took a deep breath.

Don’t worry, father, he thought. I’ll make you proud. I’ll make our whole family proud.

First Previous Next

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #roman sanders #remy sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides au #you dont own me #ydom

103 notes · View notes

writingwithacupoftea · 4 years ago

Text

The Unexpected Visitor in Small Heath

Summary: Y/N Shelby was a nurse during the war. What happens when a ghost from that past comes looking for her? A ghost with definite intentions...

Word Count: 3683

Trigger Warnings: a slightly handsy dude

A/N: *peeks out from my hiding place* hi guys, I’m back!! Hope you’re all good - to me it feels so amazing to be posting some writing again! As you can probably tell by the word count, I got a bit carried away with this one and so it’s basically unedited, so apologies for any mistakes 😂 Hope you enjoy it! 😘

"About fucking time, Y/N, I've been waiting here for almost a quarter of an hour."

"You've knocked on my door five minutes ago, Tommy, stop being such a dramatic shit!"

To any passers-by outside of Y/N Shelby's house, for a moment it would have looked like the two siblings were about to get into another argument. But any anxieties about that were washed away when they observed the teasing glint in the younger girl's eye and the playful shove given by the man, as they made their way down the cobbled streets of Birmingham.

Tommy and Y/N Shelby were as thick as thieves, there was no doubt about that. The brother and sister loved each other fiercely, and where one of them was found, it was almost certain that the other wouldn't be too far behind. But when they rowed, oh boy, did they row.

It was only a few days ago that the occupants of the Garrison were subjected to their shouting, after Tommy had scared off yet another one of Y/N's dates. As usual, however, the argument had soon blown over.

***

Y/N loved living in Small Heath. It was a shithole, but it was her shithole, so she didn't mind it as much.

To Tommy's surprise, she had turned down the offer of either living with him in Warwickshire or buying her a place of her own in the country. Instead, she had asked her brother if she could move into his old house on Watery Lane, to which he had agreed.

His swaying factor had been that someone would always be close-by if anything happened at the office, and the rest of the family had a place to crash if they needed to.

Y/N, on the other hand, had more emotional reasons for wanting to stay where she grew up. Since training as a nurse for the war, the Shelby girl had got to know the children of Small Heath very well: she had somehow become the go-to person whenever one of them got into a scuffle or had an accident, and always fixed them up with a smile on her face as she listened to their innocent voices babble away. Y/N wanted to see them grow up, and didn't want to abandon them. She also didn't want to leave behind some of the poorer families in Small Heath, who she paid a visit to once a week to check that everyone was as well as could be.

Tommy had had one condition for Y/N's staying in Small Heath by herself – that he walked her to and from work or the Garrison (wherever they were the latest) every day, and the days that he couldn't make it that she would let him get one of the blinders to do the job instead. The Shelby name and his sister's capabilities alone were not enough to settle his worries about her wellbeing.

And this job was what had brought Tommy to Y/N’s house that morning. It had come to Y/N’s attention that her brother seemed to be at his happiest during these walks - and when she said ‘happiest’ she meant that there was often just a slight glimmer of a smile on his face and his eyes looked a touch softer. Sometimes the indicators were bigger, but more often than not this was where the happiness would stop. It was in these moments that Tommy seemed to be at his most human, and they were the favourite part of Y/N’s day.

Apart from today.

The pair navigated the streets with ease, speaking quietly to each other, just as on every other day of the year. Suddenly, however, Y/N stopped still, lips parted slightly in shock. Tommy examined her expression carefully, and after realising (with a sigh of relief) that his sister wasn't scared shitless, followed her line of sight. It landed on a man. A rather scruffy man, who appeared to have done an awful job at trying to make himself look respectable, Tommy thought. The Shelby man knew that this was a stranger to Small Heath, not only by the fact that he had never seen such a distinct person before, but also by the way that he looked at the buildings and the people in the street. Yes, Tommy concluded, that was definitely a look with purpose.

Breaking Tommy away from his thoughts was the delicate hand that grabbed his wrist tightly, causing him to look down at his sister. "Tommy, how do you fancy taking the scenic route to the office today, hmm?" Whilst her voice was light, as if she were simply commenting on the day's weather, the forced smile that was plastered on her face was the one that she used at parties when she wanted to get away from someone (usually when she was being annoyed or bored to death).

Amused by Y/N's desperate desire to get away, he resisted her impatient pull on his arm towards a side street. "What's wrong with this way, Y/N/N? This is the route we take every day, I'm not going about changing it now." Tommy's voice was teasing as he casually lit a cigarette.

"Yes, yes, Tom, I know you're a stickler for routine – but for once in your fucking life can you do as I say?"

"Ah, well I was considering it, but since you've been so rude to me..."

The man was getting closer.

"Please, Tommy, I'll do anything." Y/N hated that she was having to practically beg her brother, but the situation was one that she definitely wanted to avoid. She even slipped her hand down to grasp his tightly for emotional effect, something that she hadn't done for years (but, oh, how she relished that warm and safe feeling that it brought with it).

Surprised at his sister's actions and looking into her wide eyes, he was about to relent and let her drag him down the side streets to the office. But it was too late.

"NURSE SHELBY!" The man's deep voice bellowed down the street, causing a few people to look towards them.

"Fucking hell," Y/N mumbled under her breath, giving Tommy's hand a tight squeeze and then letting go, before addressing the man. "Henry. What a surprise! What brings you to Birmingham?"

"Well, you, of course!"

Y/N cringed internally as she saw Tommy's eyebrows shoot up at this statement. Tommy cleared his throat. "Aren't you going to introduce us, Y/N?"

Sending a quick death glare up to her brother out of the corner of her eye, the woman replied with strained politeness: "My apologies. Henry, this is my brother, Thomas Shelby. Tommy, this is Henry Mathers, one of my former patients."

"Pleasure to meet you, sir." Henry shook Tommy's hand, the latter trying his hardest not to grimace at the thick layer of sweat coating the other man's palm.

"Likewise, Mr Mathers. You met my sister in France, then?"

"Yes, sir. We said that if we both made it out of there alive, we'd go for a drink. Ever since I got back I've been searching for her and here I am! And, oh, it was worth the wait to see that face again."

Tommy could no longer suppress the smirk threatening to escape as he looked between Henry's longing gaze and Y/N's very clearly faked happiness crossed with panic.

"Well, my sister is a woman of her word, Mr Mathers, and I'm sure she'd be delighted to be able to catch up with you after all these years." Tommy decided to pause for dramatic effect. "Perhaps you can go to the Garrison tonight, Y/N? We've had it done up recently, it's just around this corner here" Tommy added, pointing in the direction of the pub.

"Oh, that sounds perfect! I shall meet you there at eight o'clock, Miss Shelby." Before Y/N could get a word in edgeways, Henry was removing his bowler hat and bowing his balding head. "Good day to you, Miss Shelby, Mr Shelby." The man continued to walk down the street, a definite spring now in his step.

As soon as he was far enough away, Y/N sent a firm punch to her brother’s stomach. “What the actual fuck, Tommy?” She started to storm down the street quickly, leaving Tommy hurrying after her. “One minute you’re chasing men away from me, and next you’re setting me up on dates with people you don’t know the first thing about!”

“You’re the one who agreed to go for a drink with him in the first place, don’t go blaming me.”

“He had a lot of drugs in his system when he asked, I didn’t think he’d actually remember it.” Catching her brother’s amused smile at her excuse, she continued. “He was on the verge of death, I wasn’t exactly going to say no, was I?”

“Oh, so he fought to stay alive just for you then, eh? Sounds like a keeper to me, Y/N/N.”

“You’re an arse, Thomas Shelby. A complete and utter arse.”

***

Y/N remained in a foul mood with Tommy for the rest of the day, not that this surprised him.

When the hands of the clock hit ten to eight exactly, however, he still knocked on his sister's door to take her to the Garrison himself.

Tommy couldn't help the chuckle that fell from his lips at the sight of Y/N, clad in a beaded black dress, scowling as she stepped out of the house.

"You do know that you're not going to a funeral tonight?"

"Oh, it's my bloody funeral, alright. Might be his too, if he reverts back to his old ways." Y/N started playing with her hands as they made their way towards the pub, something that she'd done since she was little when she was nervous.

Tommy noticed it immediately, eyebrows furrowing slightly in concern as he recalled Y/N's desperation to avoid Henry. It hadn’t really hit him properly in the moment how desperate she had been. But before he could begin to question what the man's 'old ways' were, his sister spoke again.

"But you were right about one thing earlier, Tommy. I did still agree to go out with Henry, no matter what state he was in when he asked. It would be rude of me not to go through with it and at least act like I'm having a nice time, seeing as he's come all this way for it. So," her voice became sterner, "I'm going to smile my way through the evening, and you'd better not start any fights - do you understand me?"

The older of the two Shelbys sighed, a feeling of dread beginning to build up inside of him. "I can get you out of this if you -"

"No, Tommy." An angry fire was dancing in the young woman's eyes. "You don't get to land me in this situation and then try to snap your fingers and revert it. That's not how this works. This is happening, no thanks to you..." The last part was mumbled under her breath as she pushed the heavy pub doors open.

Tommy hadn't wanted to lose his sister in the same way that he had lost Ada at the beginning – not giving her enough freedom, especially given their argument the other day. So, when a man came along who she had agreed to go for a drink with previously, he had decided (for once) to take the light-hearted and supportive approach, a far cry from the overprotective older brother that he had been since the moment that Y/N had been born.

He was starting to regret even considering changing his ways, and the night had barely begun...

***

From his seat at an ordinary table at the Garrison, Tommy looked at the occupants at the bar once again, probably for about the fifth time in the past two minutes. He had decided not to retreat into the snug, as he usually did, wanting to keep a close eye on Y/N and Henry.

So far, the evening had gone surprisingly well - it was far better than any of Tommy’s imaginings after his discussion with his sister previously. He had heard his sister’s gentle laugh ringing across the room on multiple occasions (and he could tell that it was genuine), and the pair had barely stopped talking.

Maybe this would prove to be a success, Tommy had mused.

One thing that the man’s careful eye had picked up on, however, was how many whiskeys Henry had thrown back. Tommy had concluded that no matter how well things appeared to be going now, he wasn't leaving just yet.

And he was glad he didn't – for just 15 minutes later, as the alcohol began to kick in to Henry's system, things began to go downhill.

It started with the occasional nervous laugh, or a smile that didn’t quite reach his sister's eyes as she avoided Henry's intense gaze. This grew more frequent as Henry continued to drink, and Y/N began playing with her hands once again as well.

The head of the Shelby family was an inch away from leaping out of his seat when he saw Henry leaning over to whisper in Y/N's ear, and her nose crinkled in disgust at the stench of alcohol on his breath. After a few subtle attempts, she finally managed to push him away from her, and Tommy relaxed slightly as he heard her state a firm "No." His sister was always a lot tougher than he thought.

But her efforts were undermined as Henry grabbed her left hand, holding it as if he were about to kiss her knuckles. However his grip was far too firm for that. Ripping her hand out of his, Y/N grabbed her bag hurriedly and started to get off her seat, and Tommy stood up himself.

The final straw for the protective brother was when he witnessed Y/N freeze completely as Henry rested a hand on her knee to stop her from leaving. Fists clenched as he tried to contain his anger, remembering his sister's warning about not starting any fights, Tommy marched over to the bar, his lie for getting her out of there already prepared.

"Y/N, something urgent has come up, we need to call a family meeting – now." Tommy extended a hand to his sister, which she gratefully took as he helped her get down off the barstool and pulled her safely to his side. "Would you get my things from the back room, I've just got something to sort out quickly before we go. I'll see you outside."

Y/N nodded, knowing exactly what Tommy was doing. Shooting her brother a grateful glance, Y/N mumbled a quick "Goodbye" to Henry, and walked off quickly, not wanting to be in the man's company for any longer than necessary.

***

She slipped out of the back door and into the cold night air, relief washing over her. Lighting a cigarette, Y/N waited for her brother, wondering how he had got to her so quickly – she hadn't seen him once after meeting up with Henry.

A few minutes later, Tommy emerged and went straight to Y/N. "You alright?" His thick Brummie accent comforting her as he, too, lit a cigarette.

Y/N sent him a soft smile as she replied, "I'm fine, Tom. I'm assuming there isn't actually an emergency?" Her voice was laced with amusement.

"Nope."

The siblings stayed there for a while, smoking and listening to the sounds of the pub behind them. Y/N vaguely wondered whether Henry would find them, but looking up at her brother's solid presence beside her, she felt any worries lift off her shoulders.

Out of the blue, Tommy threw his cigarette to the ground and stubbed it out, turning to Y/N. "Come on. Do you fancy going for a walk?"

"Yeah, I need to clear my head." Tommy started to move towards the street. "Oi! I'm finishing this first, you know I hate smoking and walking at the same time!"

***

"You gonna tell me what happened tonight then, eh?"

The pair didn't know how long they had been wandering the streets of Small Heath for, but Tommy's curiosity had finally gotten the better of him.

Y/N sighed, her eyes focused on the cobblestones beneath her. "When Henry first came to us, back in France, he'd been caught up in an explosion. After the doctors had seen him, he was still very drugged up and the chances of him surviving were about fifty-fifty. We had to keep administering him the drugs for a few days, because he was in so much pain. He kept calling me over, wanting to talk to me no matter how busy I was – said that he needed a 'pretty girl' like me to keep him company. I humoured him. But then he started saying things like we were 'meant to be together', 'soulmates' even."

Y/N paused, thinking hard. "He lied when he showed up today: he said that he asked me out for a drink, but he didn't. What Henry actually said was, and I quote, 'If we both survive this fucking war, I'm going to find you and marry you.' I had no clue what to say. His chances of making it out of the hospital alive, never mind the war, weren't improving. So I said something like 'Well, I hope you buy me a drink first.' I ran off after that, and another one of the nurses took over his care. I had no clue that he was still alive until today.

"At the pub tonight, I will admit that I did enjoy catching up with him. For someone who I believed to be a lost cause all those years ago, it was nice to hear that he'd actually done something with his life. But then he brought up getting married again, insisting that I was still 'the one' for him and that it was the thought of me that kept him going until the end of the war. He just kept repeating over and over again that he was going to marry me and that we'd be so happy together.

"But just before you came over, he was getting rather forceful about it. I don't think I've ever been so happy to see your stupid face." She laughed a little, noticing her brother's annoyed (yet secretly amused) glare as they sat down next to the Cut.

"It wasn't him that freaked me out, necessarily - it was the thought of marriage. I'm not ready yet, Tom, and to be honest I don't know if I ever will be, no matter how many boys I try and date. I'm terrified of being tied down to someone and losing my independence. I enjoy being by myself too much – and with you lot, I suppose." Y/N nudged her brother's arm.

A comfortable silence settled between the siblings, and Y/N let it sit there, wanting to give Tommy the time to process everything that she had said in her little monologue.

Happiness was one emotion that the elder Shelby didn't expect to feel after hearing his sister's answer to his question. And yet it coursed through his every vein, accompanied by a sort of relief. Tommy wanted his sister to find contentment and peace more than anything; even though he hated the thought of her marrying, of her having someone else to turn to that wasn't him, a few years ago Tommy had come to accept that one day Y/N would want to move on from him and the family. Maybe even start her own family. This acceptance, however, hadn't been able to stop him from deterring nearly any man who came her way. In his mind, anyone that couldn't stand up to Tommy definitely wouldn't be able to deal with his youngest sister, and that they simply weren't good enough for her.

To hear, though, that Y/N had no intention of leaving him yet, was music to his ears. It was also a comfort to know that she was waiting for the right person to get serious with – Tommy felt as though he wouldn't have to spend as much time hunting down every single potential suitor. Instead, he could spend the time with his beloved, if annoying, little sister.

But this was Tommy Shelby, and he would never communicate such vast amounts of emotion verbally. "So I'm stuck with you for a bit longer then?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Y/N couldn't help the grin that spread across her face, understanding the exact meaning behind her brother's words. It widened as she heard Tommy chuckling slightly in response, a sound that she had nearly forgotten. "What did you do with Henry? After I left the pub?"

Tommy cleared his throat, uncomfortably. "He won't be proposing to you again any time soon, don't you worry, sweetheart."

"Tommy, I thought I said - "

"No fighting, I know. And I did as you said, I didn't start any tonight." He looked, almost sheepishly, over at Y/N, who had adopted Polly's stern expression. "I told him that if I saw him again in our city, I'd cut him myself, and the same applies for if he tries to contact you again."

The younger Shelby sighed and rolled her eyes, fondly. "Well, I can't complain about that, can I?" Y/N heard the bells of the church chime, telling her that it was midnight. She turned to Tommy. "Home?"

He nodded. "Home," and he knew exactly where that was tonight. Tommy stood up and brushed the dirt off of his trousers, whilst Y/N got up too. They were about to set off when Tommy held his hand out to his sister, just like he used to when they were younger. Y/N instinctively took it, a feeling of warmth spreading throughout her body. She felt loved, and knew for certain that this love was the only one that she needed at the moment.

Tommy didn't let go until they reached the front door, comforted in the knowledge that Y/N was going to remain his little girl for a while longer yet.

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x sister reader #shelby sister #shelby sis #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders sister #peaky blinders x sister!reader #tommy shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders fic #peaky blinders fanfic #shelby!reader #shelby!sister

528 notes · View notes

sophisticatedloserchick · 4 years ago

Text

Fanfic - Sharing Her Attentions - 1/1

Summary: When Anthony married Kate he didn't realize he'd be sharing her attentions with her pet corgi.

Rating: PG

Word Count: 1901

A/N: The prompt Jealousy for KatexAnthony Week

Anthony never considered himself a jealous man.

After all the root of jealousy is the fear of losing something precious to you. And Anthony had intentionally led a life where beyond his family he didn't hold such connections with anyone.

In particular when it came to the women in his life. Most of his dalliances had been done in secret and never in the confines of his home. He drew firm lines over certain parts of his life that he never let anyone cross.

Then Kate entered into his life like a force of nature.

In short time Kate had broken through his carefully crafted defences. Being with Kate meant opening his heart and he surprisingly found himself more than willing to do so. For a man who convinced himself he didn't need anyone he quickly realized he couldn't live without her after a few short months of marriage. He had no doubts in his mind that they loved each other to distraction.

Luckily for them jealousy never factored heavily in their relationship. No one could ever compare to Kate in him, and he had a great deal of confidence no man lingered in Kate's heart or thoughts the way he did.

With one exception that Anthony had to deal with on a daily basis.

His wife's rather rotund and enthusiastic corgi.

With a scowl furrowing his brow Anthony lowered his newspaper to glance across the room.

His wife sitting on a settee opposite from him barely looked in his direction. Her entire attentions were focused on the porgy corgi sitting beside her. Kate had recently taught that insufferable mongrel how to do a couple of tricks that she never seemed to grow sick of. Anthony was too proud to admit out loud that his chest clenched at the sight of Kate's beaming smile or delighted laughter every time that dog raised a paw or barked on command. But not too proud to silently stew in annoyance while watching them.

His ire only growing since he forgo joining his parliament colleagues at White's to go home to his wife. On most days Anthony much preferred being with Kate then anyone else. In the early days of their marriage Anthony had foolishly avoided his wife in the hopes to suppress any feelings he could have for her. Now months after she recovered from the carriage crash and their true feelings confessed Anthony had every intention of making up for lost time.

Or he would if Kate would stop playing with that blasted mongrel.

“Anthony? Is everything well?”

Kate's voice broke his brooding and brought his attention back to her. He could see the amusement in her dark eyes. A smile pulling at her lips while she absent mindedly petted Newton between his ears. At least she was finally focusing on him again.

“Its nothing,” Anthony glanced at Newton in distaste. “Should the dog be sitting on the settee?”

Kate rolled her eyes but still coaxed Newton off the settee and back on the floor.

“Are you ever going to warm up to Newton?” Kate playfully scowled at him. “I didn't realize you disliked dogs so much.”

Anthony didn't have anything against dogs. Back in his youth when his family spent most of the year at Aubrey hall they always had several dogs. In truth he rarely came across a dog he didn't like. Even the tiny balls of fluff that older ladies of the Ton often had sitting his their laps with bows tied in their fur.

Newton however Anthony struggled to connect with.

From the first day he knew Newton would be an agent of chaos. Because of this dog Anthony had once ran across the length of a park and ended up knee deep in the serpentine. He also hadn't completely absolved Newton's role in the carriage crash that caused Kate to break her leg. The moment Kate brought the dog to their newlywed home Newton had become a terror in the house.

For such a relatively small dog Newton caused a lot of problems. From tearing down curtains, eating half of the meat pie that had been cooling on the window sill, and in general pouncing and jumping on the servants as they went about their duties. Anthony knew for fact that his butler had murderous designs on Newton.

But for Anthony the difficult part of living with Newton is them having to share Kate's attentions.

On more than one occasion Anthony couldn't cuddle close to Kate in their bed because Newton already beat him to it. Or the times Anthony came home in the afternoon hoping to spend time with Kate only to find out she had taken Newton out for a walk. Or when Anthony and Kate were engaged in conversation only to be interrupted by Newton toddling over and distracting Kate every time. All Anthony could do is sit there scowling as Kate cooed and petted the blasted beast.

Anthony would never say he was jealous of the mongrel. He had far too much dignity for that.

“No I don't hate dogs,” Anthony he argued before bringing his newspaper back up again.

“You're impossible,” Kate groused but lucky for him he could detect a note of fondness in her voice.

From behind his paper Anthony could hear Kate getting up and walking over to the tea service to make herself another cup of tea. Which would mean Anthony wouldn't be able to coax her into sitting in the chair with him if she had a cup of tea in hand.

“Kate?” Anthony peered over the paper to where Kate had just finished adding sugar to her tea. “Can you come here for a moment?”

Immediately Kate's dark eyes narrowed in suspicion but she put down the tea cup to walk towards him. Anthony took the moment to take in and appreciate his wife. She wore a simple light lavender dress that contrasted beautifully against her brown skin. Her thick, curly black hair had had been pulled up in a bun but tendrils curled gently around her face.

The minute she drew close enough Anthony reached out to grab her.

“Anthony!” Kate called out as she felt herself be tugged down.

Anthony couldn't help but grin in satisfaction when his wife landed in his lap. He took a moment to savour having her close to him. The warmth of her body seeping into his own. His senses becoming overwhelmed by the scent of soap and lilies. His hand drifting over the soft curves of her body.

A big part of him debated standing up with her gathered in his arms to take her upstairs to their room. Not the first time Anthony had found a way to steal his wife away to their quarters to have his way with her in the middle of the afternoon. He couldn't deny that his desire for his wife made it difficult for him to wait until evening to be with her. Especially when she looked this stunning in the afternoon light.

“You're ridiculous,” Kate huffed but Anthony made a note she made no move to get off his lap.

“Don't deny you love it,” Anthony smirked as his finger gripped her chin to pull her into a kiss.

Kate further melted against him. Her hands moving up to grip the lapels of his jacket to keep his close. His one hand gently brushed up her back causing a shiver through her body and a soft moan.

Anthony quickly became lost in his wife. The whole world fading away to nothing until all her could feel, and taste, and hear was Kate.

Except in the distance he could hear the familiar sound of paws scraping against hard wood floor and a high pitch excited bark. Anthony already knew what would happen next, Newton with surprising agility would jump into their lap and interrupt them. And he would not allow that to happen.

Anthony quickly pull away from Kate and with his most firmest Viscount voice called out to Newton.

“Dog no, sit down!”

Kate winced sympathetically as Newton skidded to a halt then plop his big bottom back on the ground. His big brown eyes gazed sadly up at the two of them, his fluffy ears flat against his head.

A low and sad whine emitted from him that even pulled at Anthony's heart strings.

Normally at this point Kate would have given in and let Newton do or have whatever he wanted. She couldn't deny she had a soft hand when it came to Newton.

Anthony on the other hand completely disagreed. He never hesitated to say to her how badly Newton behaved. Once they started living together Anthony had then taken it upon himself to try 'correct' Newton when possible.

One thing Anthony refused to budge on is letting Newton join in when they were cuddling.

“Anthony just this once let him come up,” For good measure Kate ran her fingers through the hair at the back of his head. She learned very quickly that Anthony melted when she did that, especially when she lightly dragged her fingernails across his scalp.

“Absolutely not,” Anthony held firm, his arms tightening around her. “He's had his time with you now its my turn.”

Kate taken aback at those words took a moment to process them. As she did Anthony watched the puzzled expression on Kate's face turn into one of self satisfied amusement.

“Why Anthony are you jealous...” Kate leaned in closer smirking a little. “Of our dog?”

“No, that's complete nonsense.” Anthony scowled at Kate who continued to smile at him far too knowingly. “Why would you think I ever be jealous of a dog?”

“Call it hunch,” Kate giggled which only caused Anthony's scowl to deepen.

Deciding to take pity of him Kate pressed her lips softly to his own. She could already feel the tense line of his shoulders relax. His hand on her waist becoming less of a grip and more of a caress.

Kate tilted her head at a perfect angle as her teeth bit down on his lower lip to deepen the kiss. A warm haze descended on Anthony at the feel of his wife's body completely pressed against his own. All thoughts of Newton melted from Anthony's mind as Kate's lovely fingers carded through his hair.

That is until his wife pulled back with a teasing grin on her lips.

“See, no need to be jealous darling,” Kate said while lightly kissing his lips.

At the mention of his name Newton's ears perked up and he let out another needy whine. Anthony shot him a reproachful look before Kate's fingers on his jawline had him turning his attention back to her.

“Good thing for both of you I can share my attentions,” Kate let out a sigh but Anthony could see the laughter in her dark eyes.

Anthony didn't know how he felt about Kate saying he needed to share her attentions with a dog. But since he currently had the upper-hand over said dog he decided to take the advantage.

“Well either way its my turn right now,” Anthony said pulling her into a kiss fully intended to hold her attention for as long as possible.

#anthony bridgerton #kate sharma #katexanthonyweek #bridgerton #kathony #kanthony

41 notes · View notes

fefipranon · 3 years ago

Text

Let’s talk about depression

In my latest book ‘The Power of Death’ I talk about this topic in depth. I will post the links to it at the end of this post if you are interested in reading it. If there is one part of the book that resumes the message that I wanted to transmit, it’s Mikasa’s (The main character) press conference at the end of the last chapter.

It’s okay if you don’t read the whole book, but at least, read the following extract from the book (some stuff removed to avoid spoilers):

Standing behind the podium Mikasa started the conference by saying,

"Paradis island doesn't have studies about the topic we are about to discuss, but other countries do. In the United States, in 2019, a total of 47,511 Americans died by suicide and an estimated 1.38 million attempted it. [2] What about other countries? you may ask, well, overall, suicide was in the top 10 leading causes of death across Eastern Europe, Central Europe, high-income countries within the Asia Pacific, and Australasia. Within regions and countries, though, suicide rates soared among people with lower social and economic status. [3] This data comes from research made by the Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation in Washington, Seattle. [4] This goes without mentioning that for every suicide, it is estimated that there are seven to ten people intimately affected."[8]

Mikasa stopped to take a sip of water and looked back at the audience to continue her speech,

"Untreated depression can, and possibly will lead to suicide, death. In biology, homeostasis is the state of steady internal, physical, and chemical conditions maintained by living systems. [5] Depression does have an impact on this. Research shows that the hippocampus is smaller in some depressed people. For example, in one fMRI study published in The Journal of Neuroscience, investigators studied 24 women who had a history of depression. On average, the hippocampus was 9% to 13% smaller in depressed women compared with those who were not depressed. The more bouts of depression a woman had, the smaller the hippocampus. [6] The hippocampus is not the only area of the brain affected by depression, the Amygdala, and Thalamus are also affected.[6] Depression is, and should be treated as, an illness that, if left untreated, can be lethal. Just remember the statistics I gave you about suicide at the beginning of my speech. With that data as the base of my argument, it is safe for me to say that depression is one of the top life-threatening illnesses having, in some countries, the top mortality rate overall."

A woman from the public raised her hand and when allowed to talk she said,

"How can you call an illness to something that can be 'cured' by just talking to a so-called doctor about your issues?"

Mikasa gave the woman a serious look and said, "Therapy, is not just talking. Psychotherapy stands over years of research and development going as back as the 19th century. There is extensive evidence of its effectiveness. Also, most cases of depression treatments include medication."

Then a man shouted, "So now doctors will give our kids a bunch of pills just because the child is feeling a little sad?!"

"Several tests are usually performed before a psychiatrist gives a diagnosis of depression. Tests like: physical exams, lab tests, psychiatric evaluation, and the country's manual of mental health like for example the DSM-5 which is the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders from the American Psychiatric Association, is applied. After that, the psychiatrist might do more testing to see if medication is an option. Because they are physicians, psychiatrists can order or perform a full range of medical laboratory and psychological tests which, combined with discussions with patients, help provide a picture of a patient's physical and mental state. Their education and clinical training equip them to understand the complex relationship between emotional and other medical illnesses and the relationships with genetics and family history, to evaluate medical and psychological data, to make a diagnosis, and to work with patients to develop treatment plans.[7] In other words, for a doctor to prescribe medication to your child, it has to first do an extensive evaluation on the kid before even start to consider medication in the first place. If in the end, medication is needed, then it would mean that your kid is not only 'feeling a little sad', it means that there is a deeper problem that needs to be addressed and the physician will have a lot of evidence to back up his claim.", Mikasa said.

She stopped talking and pinched the bridge of her nose out of frustration, then she looked seriously at the same man she was addressing before, and said, "Would you rather lose your child to suicide or seek valid, scientific-based help to save the kid's life?"

The man was frozen in place. He was not expecting to be put in the spotlight this way. Mikasa noticed the teenage kid who was seated next to him with his head bowed to the floor. Before he could answer Mikasa said,

"Do you even know how depression feels like? To have your own mind to conspire against you? To illogically feel worthless, alone, like nobody can understand you, or at least, nobody that hasn't been through the same darkness as you. Do you know how it feels when people tell you worthless crap like, 'get over it', or 'just stop being sad' like being sad is just an option you chose because apparently, you like to torture yourself? Have you ever contemplated to end your life out of desperation to get an out, a break, from your own mind?"

By this point, the kid was looking straight at Mikasa with tears pouring down his eyes. Mikasa knew she was getting through him. She grabbed the microphone and started to walk while resuming her speech,

"To feel like you are constantly drowning. To feel like an ungrateful ass because logically, you should be happy because you have everything. But you aren't... Thinking that there must be something really wrong with you for you to feel this way without an apparent reason. To feel lost, alone with this feeling that is eating you inside slowly until it gets to the point where you desperately want to rip your soul out of your body. When it gets so bad that causing physical pain to your body is an option since, at least, for a brief moment, your mind focuses on the physical pain which is better for you because the emotional pain is so much greater than a little cut on your forearm."

The man realized that she was no longer addressing him but the person seated next to him, his own son. Mikasa stood right in front of his son and looked at him in the eyes. She lowered the microphone and while brushing her fingers through the kid's scars on his forearm she said to him,

"You are not alone."

Then, she showed him her own scars and the kid stood up pulling her in for a hug while repeatedly saying, "Thank you"

Reporters were recording the whole encounter. It was real. Depression was real, and it was being recorded. The father of the kid sat back down while looking at his son in shock. Trying to find the words to say he just pulled him in for a hug while saying,

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"You never really asked.", the boy replied.

"I'm sorry. I will do better. You deserve better.", his dad replied with a broken voice.

Mikasa lifted the microphone again to talk and said, "Depression is a silent killer. It could be your child, partner, parent... it could be closer to you than what you think. So before you speak about the topic remember that. Your words could be hurting one of your own for your lack of empathy."

She walked towards the podium again to start answering reporter's questions,

"What would you say to someone who is going through this?"

Mikasa lowered her head lost in thought and said, "You don't need to have a traumatic event in your life to have depression. Depression is not just sadness and is not only caused by personality type or environmental factors. Genetics and biochemistry are also a big part of it, and those two have nothing to do with how much crap you've been dealt in life. What I am trying to say it's that, it's okay to not be okay, you don't need a reason to, and you don't need to feel worse about it for not having a reason. Being sad is not a right you earn after a certain amount of societally accepted shit has happened to you. Just seek help, see the situation logically, and not let people bring you down. If possible, educate others on the topic. Be the change you want to see in the world."

She paused, thinking of her own struggles with depression, and the stability and peace she finally felt once the pills started to work on her. Sure, dark thoughts still lingered at the back of her head, but, it was no longer unbearable, now, it was manageable. With time and therapy, she had managed to live with it, minimizing their negative effect on her. With this in mind, she said,

"Do not get frustrated if anti-depressants don't work at first, sometimes it takes a couple of tries with different types of medications to get the one that works for you. Researchers are exploring possible links between the sluggish production of new neurons in the hippocampus and low moods. An interesting fact about antidepressants supports this theory. These medications immediately boost the concentration of chemical messengers in the brain (neurotransmitters). Yet people typically don't begin to feel better for several weeks or longer. Experts have long wondered why, if depression were primarily the result of low levels of neurotransmitters, people don't feel better as soon as levels of neurotransmitters increase. The answer may be that mood only improves as nerves grow and form new connections, a process that takes weeks." [6]

She paused and looked at the crowd. Then, she said,

"In the meantime, stay alive, even if it feels against your will. Do not give a permanent solution to a temporary problem, because trust me, it DOES get better."

Stay Alive

Feel free to share this to raise awareness. This book has all the things I wish someone had told me in my darkest moments, and I hope, it can help someone out there who is going through the same painful path in life. Remember, it's not your fault, you are not alone.

Resources used in this part:

[1] Oswego City School District Regents Exam Prep Center. Archived from on 25 October 2012. Retrieved 12 November 2012. URL: homeostasis

[2] American Foundation for Suicide Prevention: suicide-statistics

[3] global-suicide-rates-study

[4] Global, regional, and national burden of suicide mortality 1990 to 2016: a systematic analysis for the Global Burden of Disease Study 2016: content

[5] Gordon., Betts, J. Anatomy and physiology. DeSaix, Peter., Johnson, Eddie., Johnson, Jody E., Korol, Oksana., Kruse, Dean H., Poe, Brandon. Houston, Texas. p. 9. ISBN 9781947172043. OCLC 1001472383.

[6] What causes depression? Harvard Medical School: what-causes-depression

[7] What Is Psychiatry? from the American Psychiatric Association. URL: what-is-psychiatry

[8] Lukas, Christopher; Henry M. Seiden (1997) [1987]. Silent Grief: Living in the Wake of Suicide. Northvale, New Jersey: Jaron Aronson. p. 5. ISBN 0-7657-0056-5.

Book Summary:

Mikasa is a woman suffering from clinical depression. There is one thing that she is sure of: she wants to die. But when she received some unexpected news that makes her death wish a reality, she starts to wonder if that was really what she wanted. She starts a journey to discover the truth about her biological parents that gave her up for adoption when she was a baby. This journey will guide her to cross paths with someone as broken as her, someone that hates her to death for what her biological family did to him. Will she have the courage to, for once, fight to live? or will she let him drag her to hell with him?

The book is tagged as an ‘Attack on Titan’ Alternate universe fanfic but honestly you don’t need to know anything about the anime to read it. The story has nothing to do with it so feel free to read if you haven’t seen it.

You can find the story in the following links:

Archive of our own:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30452145/chapters/75087657

Wattpad:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/264598251-the-power-of-death

#depression #Suicide #suicide awareness #hope #sad #sad thoughts #mind #psychotherapy #psychology #science

14 notes · View notes

secret-diary-of-an-fa · 3 years ago

Text

God of War (PS4) Review: Kratos’ Postal Grief Beard Versus Norse Mythology

Once upon a time, a man was born by the name of Cory Barlog and thus a coin was flipped. Would he become a videogame developer or would he take up guarding the Mines of Moria by pulling wizards into a precipice? Those really are the only two options with a name like Barlog. Anyway, apparently the Mines of Moria were a bit of a commute, so the world gained a talented Auteur developer with a unique vision for a game series about going postal in ancient Greece. Fast-foward a number of years specifically calculated to make you feel old and ancient Greece is a distant memory. Norse mythology is where all the cool kids hang out nowadays, and that’s where we’re going in today’s review.

As you might have guessed, I’ve just finished playing God of War (PS4), which is fun to say because it rhymes. It’s a very good game that should be a very bad game. When considering modern media artefacts, I’m often prompted to ask the question ‘what went so wrong?’, but this may be the first time I’ve had to ask the question ‘what went so right?’.

Let me explain: God of War 4 (I don’t care that they don’t put the number on the box art, that’s what it fucking is) makes a single, monumentally stupid creative decision that should ruin the entire enterprise, but doesn’t. And that creative decision was- wait for it- a stab at maturity.

The last time we saw Kratos- the world’s angriest mythical being- he was finishing his battle with the Greek gods in God of War 3. There was a moment in that game which, to me, typified what was so great about the series. If I recall the sequence of events correctly, you kill your way through an ocean of expendable goons and critters who are just trying to defend their home on Mount Olympus, dripping with blood and screaming furiously, then wander into the bedroom of one of ancient Greece’s sauciest goddesses and play a sex minigame that you win by fucking her so well that her handmaids orgasm too. Then you toddle outside again and, head cleared, solve an incredibly complex and cerebral puzzle involving non-Euclidean geometry and perspective manipulation that takes bloody ages. That, in a nutshell, was the core identity of the original God of War: a gleefully unrestrained and immature approach to sex and violence coupled with a grouchy willingness to make unsuspecting players feel like fucking idiots for no reason whatsoever. It was awesome. In contrast, God of War 4 picks up many, many years later with Kratos hiding out in Midgard of the Norse mythos and, for once, he hasn’t got a nark on and he’s not trying to stick his cock in someone with cartoonishly huge knockers. He’s just sad because his missus has passed away, leaving him and their young, impressionable son alone in a big, scary world full of trolls and ginger psychopaths. ‘Sad’ isn’t a completely new emotion for Kratos, but, up until this point, he was usually sad in a way that resulted in five hundred people getting their spines broken in a very colourful manner. Now he just wants to cremate the remains of the woman he loved and carry her ashes to the tallest peak in the nine realms so he can scatter her in accordance with her final wishes. And that’s what he does, with son- Atreus- in tow. It’s a twenty-plus hour game in which the objective is very simply to honour someone’s preferred funeral rites- nothing more, nothing less. It’s very modest by Kratos usual standards. Remember that his stated goal in the previous game was to punch freakin’ Zeus so hard that his face would go all concave and then repeatedly stamp on his corpse.

We never actually find out much about what Kratos was up to between games or how he met his wife. However, he’s a bit thiccer than in previous instalments and seems to have lost the use of the ‘jump’ button outside of context-sensitive environments. On that evidence, I choose to believe he’s been running a small but successful family restaurant called ‘Kratos’ Potatoes’ and enjoying it all a bit much. And why not? He beat up Zeus- if he just wants to create and sample homely yet exotic Greco-Norse fusion cuisine while growing a ridiculous straggly dad-beard, I say let him crack on. Actually, is it a ‘dad beard’ or is it a ‘grief beard’? I think they send them to videogame characters in the post whenever a loved one dies so they can signal to the world how sad they are through the medium of angsty facial hair. But where was? Oh yeah: cracking on with it.

Y’see this is where the plot comes in: the Norse gods won’t let Kratos crack on. They’re determined to make him bow before Odin- especially Baldur, who is way too invested in having a fight with Kratos for reasons that won’t become apparent until very late in the game. They just keep turning up and trying to break Kratos and his increasingly like-him-but-not-as-good-at-it son Atreus. This time around, our heroes commit heinous acts of violence to defend themselves, not enact revenge, as they travel, inexorably, to the top of a lonely mountain through landscapes of stunning natural beauty and many, many hostile creatures.

Of course, Kratos taking his son on a hiking holiday with added troll-murder and the occasional slap-fight with Norse mythology’s biggest killjoys doesn’t sound as interesting as the original games. After all, those were basically a production of Kill Bill in which the part of Bill was played by a guy with the power to summon lightning bolts and access to a seemingly unstoppable army of monsters and demigods. The ‘fun factor’ even seems to have taken another downgrade, in that Kratos no longer operates with the entertainingly demented passion of the insane: he has been tempered by time and love and managed to turn himself into a paragon of serious self control. So why is God of War 4 so bloody good? Partly, I suspect, the answer lies in the constantly evolving relationship between Kratos and Atreus, which gives the story an unbelievable amount of heart and always manages to feel very organic. Kratos never learned how to be a parent, and we essentially watch him do it in real time, forming a bond with his son that seems impossible at the start of the game and inevitable by the end. Partly, the games greatness lies in the characters you meet along the way, who range from bickering dwarves to talking, decapitated heads who prattle on like laid-back tour-guides. Partly, it’s in the beautiful, epic landscapes that make the journey across the Realms to the highest peak feel epic and significant, even while it is small and personal.

But a videogame is nothing without gameplay, and it is here that God of War 4 really shines. I loved the original God of War trilogy (especially the third instalment), but I rarely felt like I was playing as, y’know, a god of war. Kratos might not be an uncontrollable whirlwind of fury any more, but he feels truly powerful for the first time in the ongoing series. In fights, every punch feels like it could crack stone; every axe-throw like it could rend the sky; every chain-whip like it could legitimately start a forest-fire. Out of combat, Kratos moves around the environment with the stolid grace of a man who knows his movements are inevitable; irresistible; an imposition on the environment that can’t be denied. You climb and complete elaborate, complex traversals knowing that the satisfaction you feel isn’t just the satisfaction of finding the correct route or solving an obstacle, but the satisfaction of a being forcing his way through a landscape that resists him at every turn but cannot stop him. The puzzles- of which there are many- strike the perfect balance between conceptual trickiness and ease of execution to remind you that Kratos is smart as well as determined; that his mind is as indomitable as his body. Then there are the little touches involving heaving huge stone pillars and similar unnecessarily over-the-top efforts. In short, the gameplay is interwoven with who Kratos is- with what he is in way that seems completely unprecedented. Even the RPG elements feel appropriate: they reflect the protagonist’s growing confidence in a skillet he hasn’t used in a long, long time.

Do I miss the uniquely juvenile, over the top identity of the old games? Absolutely: I’m a great fan of gratuitous gore and scantily clad women with big fuck-off swords. Usually, I find the desire for maturity in games to be a silly, pretentious trend that foolishly eschews anything obviously ‘fun’ for no reason other than courting the respect of people whose respect isn’t worth having. But I don’t think that’s what’s going on here- at least, not entirely. The developers of the God of War games are clearly artisans and craftsmen of extreme talent: their attention to detail is superb and their ability to weave a good tale from a simple premise is actually a little daunting for someone who considers himself a bloody good story-teller. It’s worth remembering that the de facto head of the studio, Barlog, became a father himself before commencing work on this game about a father learning to bond with his son. It feels personal and meant because it is. Other games might reach for superficially mature themes like family and redemption for altogether cynical reasons. God of War 4 does it because such thoughts are clearly much on the developer’s mind. I asked already ‘Do I miss the identity of the old games?’ and the answer is still yes. But that question deserves a follow-up: am I willing to embrace the identity of this new, quieter God of War anyway? And yes, yes I am.

But if we could have a few more women with enormous knockers and Kratos going properly batshit just once or twice in the next sequel, that would also be welcome. I mean, let’s try to strike a balance here, people, for pity’s sake.

#Secret Diary of a Fat Admirer #God of War #God of War 4 #god of war sequel #Kratos #Zeus #norse mythology #greek mythology #videogames #game review #games

17 notes · View notes

worryinglyinnocent · 4 years ago

Text

Fic: Forged Through Fire (9/13)

Summary: Amestris. Once democratic, now a military dictatorship. Prohibition is strict; personal freedoms curtailed. All alchemists must be state-licensed or face imprisonment. Foreigners are met with suspicion. It’s a grim place and a grim time, but there are some people able to bring a little light to the world. Behind an innocent-looking bookshop, speakeasy proprietor Chris Mustang has formed an unlikely alliance with unlicensed alchemist Van Hohenheim to provide alcohol to those who want it and medical care to those who need it. When Riza’s newly complete tattoo becomes infected, Roy brings her into this underworld, little knowing the way it will change their lives in the future – uncovering the secrets of the mythical Philosopher’s Stone and the schemes of a Fuhrer hell-bent on achieving immortality, all whilst navigating what they mean to each other.

===

Rated: T

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [Seven] [Eight] [AO3]

===

Content warning for this chapter: Medical abuse and implied vivisection; panic attacks.

===

Forged Through Fire

Nine

The first thing that Hohenheim became aware of when he woke up was that everything was suddenly very bright, because he was staring straight up into a fluorescent ceiling light.

The second thing that he became aware of was that he couldn’t move. He tried to lift his arms, feeling the bite of metal against his wrists and hearing the clink of chain. His ankles were the same, and panic began to course through his veins as he felt cold steel against his neck as well.

Even after nearly five hundred years, he still remembered the constant fear hanging over him, the constant threat against his already limited freedom. Every slave in Xerxes knew the terror of chains if they displeased their masters.

He couldn’t breathe.

It was the night Xerxes fell all over again, except that time he could definitely breathe because he’d screamed so much he couldn’t speak for a month afterwards.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Ah, you’re awake. I was beginning to think we might have gone too far and lost you there.” A fuzzy face loomed over him, blocking out the searing light, but Hohenheim was already hyperventilating and light-headed, and the only feature he could make out was a flash of gold in the area that was presumably the mouth.

“You know, I’ve been studying your regenerative capability and it really is remarkable,” the gold-toothed voice continued. “I lost count of the number of times I tried to open you up to get a good look at the inner workings, but you always heal up before I can have a good poke around.”

Hohenheim couldn’t breathe. This was it, after four hundred and fifty years, give or take, he was finally going to die, and he was dying a slave in chains just as he’d been born; humans really didn’t change over time. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe…

“I’ve been wondering what would happen if we cut your head off. Would it just reattach itself or would you grow a new one? And would it have all the same memories as your old one?” There was a chuckle. “Don’t worry, I won’t try it. Not yet, anyway. Bradley wouldn’t be too pleased if I did end up killing the only immortal he’d ever come across by accident in the name of curiosity.”

Hohenheim blacked out.

Forgive me, Trisha.

“Twenty-Three.”

“Yes, Sir?”

“Come here.”

Slave Twenty-Three crossed the room cautiously towards his master. He didn’t think he’d done anything that warranted punishment today. He’d been extra careful not to move any of his master’s alchemy materials whilst he’d been cleaning this morning, which was no mean feat considering that his desk amassed more and more papers and jars and equipment every day.

“Give me your arm.”

Slave Twenty-Three just stared at the scalpel in his master’s hand.

“Your arm, boy.”

He held out his arm, trying to stop it trembling. His master gave a snort of laughter.

“There’s no need to be afraid, boy. This isn’t a punishment. In fact, this is a great honour for a slave. You’re assisting me in my research for the King of Xerxes. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt. Only a scratch.”

The scalpel nicked his inner elbow sharply, and blood began to ebb out of the blue vein there. His master pressed a small vial against his skin, collecting the drops, and Slave Twenty-Three looked over at all of the similar vials on the shelf. He wondered how many other slaves had had this dubious honour.

At length, the vial was full, and his master gave him a rag to press against the cut to staunch the bleeding whilst he went back over to his steaming alchemy equipment, dripping Slave Twenty-Three’s blood into one of the bubbling jars. The clear liquid inside turned a bright ruby red colour, and his master smiled.

“Now, that’s a new development.” He turned back to Slave Twenty-Three. “Your blood type is extremely rare, you know. I believe only a few others in Xerxes would have it. The alchemic potential is potent. Yes, I think that this could be the key.”

Slave Twenty-Three went back to his work, making sure that he was out of sight of his master before he shivered with fear at the implications that might bring.

Hohenheim was vaguely aware of voices above him.

“It’s slow going because I’m having to keep him sedated and the elixial healing factor means he burns through sedative quicker than a human. Every time he wakes up he starts having a panic attack and I don’t want him bringing the lab down around my ears.”

“Take your time, doctor.” That was Bradley’s voice. “It’s hardly as if he’s going to be missed. By the way, I think he’s waking up again.”

There was a curse and a needle plunged into his neck.

Slave Twenty-Three was beginning to wonder if there was actually any blood left in his body.

On the one hand, he knew that he should probably be grateful for the interest that his master had taken in him. He had been relieved of most of his heavier duties in order to spend more time in the alchemy laboratory, and he was certainly much better fed now than he had been before. He was also learning a great deal of alchemy simply by being around it so much, but he hadn’t mentioned that to anyone, just like he hadn’t mentioned the fact he was beginning to learn to read.

It was hard going trying to do it in secret, especially when he was around his master so much more these days, but he was getting there. He was desperate to know just what his blood was being used for. He knew that the King of Xerxes was attempting to achieve immortality, but Slave Twenty-Three didn’t know how he could possibly help with that.

He started to fear when his master began to despair. The experiments he was trying were becoming increasingly dangerous, and it appeared that they were not yielding any results. The more he tried, the more blood he took, and the more blood he took, the more Slave Twenty-Three feared that one day he’d take all of it and he’d die without ever having the chance to be a free man and have a family.

(His master had promised him his freedom in return for his assistance with his commission from the King of Xerxes, but Slave Twenty-Three wasn’t holding out much hope.)

It was when the King himself appeared in the laboratory one day that Slave Twenty-Three began to wonder if perhaps trying to run away was the best idea. It had never really crossed his mind before since slaves so rarely escaped from Xerxes. Even if they made it out of the country without being captured and returned to their masters, there was still the great desert on all sides to cross before they could reach the safety of Xing or Amestris.

Slave Twenty-Three decided that he was going to have to risk it and was about to inch out of the room when his master saw him.

“Ah, Twenty-Three. Come here.”

He could not disobey his master with the King in the room, so he crossed the floor with his heart in his mouth, bowing low and averting his eyes before the sovereign.

“I have good news, Twenty-Three. Tonight all of my research will pay off, and you will help the King achieve his goal of immortality.”

Slave Twenty-Three was shrewd enough to know that helping the king achieve immortality would definitely come at the expense of his own life.

“Don’t you feel it an honour to be a part of this great process?”

Slave Twenty-Three didn’t feel it was an honour. Slave Twenty-Three just felt sick.

Slave Twenty-Three bolted and made it all of five steps out of the alchemy laboratory before the royal guards knocked him out.

“I’m having trouble with the alchemical potential. If we could just try and transmute…”

“No. Remember what happened in Xerxes. I’m not having you accidentally killing us.”

Hohenheim kept his eyes closed. The metal was still close around his neck. He tried to ignore it and breathe evenly.

He felt the soft sparks of alchemy crackle over his fingertips, but he was still so light-headed and lethargic, his brain felt like it was made of cheese. There was nothing doing. The elixir that was his blood was humming actively through his veins, the electric feeling of automatic healing, but this time on a constant loop.

He was so, so tired.

Slave Twenty-Three knew the transmutation circle for what it was as the royal guards dragged him in and tied him down in the centre.

Human transmutation had always been forbidden in Xerxes, but since the King made the laws and it was the King that this transmutation was being performed for, Slave Twenty-Three didn’t think that his master would be punished for it.

He didn’t fight against the heavy chains holding him down. What point was there?

“Do you really think that this will work, Master Atticus?”

“Your Majesty, my research shows that this process will use the alchemic potential of Twenty-Three’s blood and transmute it into the elixir of life. Once this is transfused into you, you will have gained immortality.”

“And if the alchemy rebounds?”

“The alchemy will not rebound. There is equivalent exchange – the slave for the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“Very well. Proceed, Master Atticus.”

Bright white alchemic lightning flew around the array as his master put his hands to it, and Slave Twenty-Three screamed.

He didn’t know how long he screamed for, as every fibre of his being was pulled apart and put back together again what felt like a hundred times over.

He could feel the alchemy in his veins as his blood boiled. It was more powerful than anything he’d ever known.

He kept screaming. Red lightning flashed in front of his eyes.

That was new. Alchemic lightning was always white or blue.

He kept screaming.

When Slave Twenty-Three woke up, everything was dark and deathly quiet. He craned his head to try and see what was going on.

He could see his master slumped at the edge of the circle. He could see the King of Xerxes in his throne, his eyes wide open and glassy, and extremely, undeniably dead.

He turned as much as the chains and collar would allow to look over at the guards, sprawled on the floor as well.

Slave Twenty-Three screamed again, feeling the alchemy in his veins rush into life and red lightning sparkling over his skin as the chains melted away to dust.

Equivalent exchange. The slave for the Philosopher’s Stone. The elixir of life.

Slave Twenty-Three kept screaming.

Riza stared up at the ceiling in the dark. She didn’t even know why she’d even gone to bed, she knew that trying to sleep was going to be a completely futile endeavour until she knew for herself what was going on and whether Hohenheim had been found. Even though she knew that she probably wouldn’t get any news until morning, she still felt that she ought to be on hand the moment something happened. Time was of the essence, after all.

She pulled on her robe over her pyjamas and crept down from her apartment, through the dark shop and into the bar. The lights were down apart from a few of the back lights over the bar rail itself, and Roy was sitting on one of the stools, chin resting on his arms on the polished wood as he stared at the whiskey tumbler in front of him.

He looked over as he heard her footsteps coming towards him.

“Hey.”

“Hey. Is there any news?”

Roy shook his head. “Nothing yet. Everyone’s still on it. Armstrong and I went to Central Command to see if we could find out where Bradley is at the moment. They would have let him know as soon as they realised Hohenheim isn’t normal, and they would have worked that out pretty quickly; they’re not exactly gentle when they bag someone, and he wouldn’t have any marks to show for it.”

“So where is Bradley?”

“No one knows, but he left Central Command in a hurry on a timescale that fits in with Hohenheim’s arrest.” Roy sighed. “Armstrong’s still there; he’s laying the groundwork for tomorrow.”

“What happens tomorrow?”

“We break into the armoury. There’s no way we’re taking on the secret police without as much firepower as we can get our hands on.”

“You know I’m happy to add my firepower to that.”

Roy shook his head. “Riza, I can’t ask you to get involved with this.”

“Why not? This isn’t just a military thing, Roy. Whatever the Fuhrer’s doing, it’ll affect all of Amestris. It’ll affect me as well as you. And Hohenheim isn’t just your friend. He’s mine too. He’s all of ours. He’s part of this little family that we’ve made for ourselves here. I want to help him just as much as anyone else does. You can’t deny that I can.”

“Well, you were the first person that Chris gave her rifle to earlier, so no, I can’t really deny that.”

“Besides, you’re not asking me to get involved in it. I am saying that I want to get involved in it. I know it’s going to be dangerous, Roy, I’m not stupid. You’re going to need to have someone watching your back though, aren’t you?”

“Honestly, Riza, I don’t think I’d ever be more grateful to have you watching my back.”

Riza perched on the bar stool next to him, putting an arm around him.

“I know you’re blaming yourself. I can tell. This isn’t your fault. This isn’t Hughes’s fault. This isn’t Hohenheim’s fault. Lay the blame at Bradley’s door. This all comes down to him. You can’t keep beating yourself up about things that you have no control over, Roy. Life just doesn’t work like that.”

“I know.” Roy groaned, planting his face into the bar. “I should probably go home. It took a while, but I think that all the adrenaline’s finally wearing off. Part of me just wants to stay here and take a leaf out of Fuery’s book.” He gestured over his shoulder towards one of the booths where Fuery was curled up under a blanket, dead to the world. “Breda dragged him out of the office about twenty minutes ago and threatened to sit on him until he agreed to get some sleep.”

“You know, I have a couch upstairs,” Riza pointed out. “You don’t need to sleep in the bar.”

“Oh.” Roy raised his head an inch or so off the bar and looked at her. “Are you sure?”

In all the time that Riza had been living above the shop and frequenting the bar with Roy, since helping her move in, he had never been up into her apartment before. It was as if that part of her life had always been kept separate and self-contained, and now she was inviting him into it. It felt like a big step to be taking in their relationship, allowing him into her home, and Riza didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if they were going to do anything once they were there; Roy looked like he might pass out before he even got up the two flights of stairs to the couch, but all the same, she was going to be sharing her private domain with him.

“Yes, I’m sure. Come on up. I’ve got cocoa up there, and no offence to Madam Christmas but I think it’s probably best if she sticks to coffee when it comes to non-alcoholic beverages.”

That raised a smile, and Roy pushed himself away from the bar, sliding gracelessly off his stool and following her up through the shop again. Once they were back in the apartment, Riza busied herself with finding a spare blanket and puffing up the cushions whilst she waited for the milk to warm. Roy just settled on the couch, kicking off his boots.

“It’s certainly a lot cosier than when I was last in here,” he said, looking around at the living room and kitchenette. “Where did you put the crates of vodka in the end?”

Riza lifted the tablecloth to show that the table was not in fact a table but a plank resting on several crates, and Roy snorted.

“Nice.”

They fell into silence with their cocoa. It felt like something really ought to be said, but Riza was all out of reassurances and was feeling just as wretched about the whole thing as Roy obviously was. Her thoughts kept coming back to Hohenheim and what might be happening to him now, and what might have happened to him before all those centuries ago.

Suddenly her first meeting with him fell into a different light.

“My father’s licensed, but he experiments.”

“On you?”

Of course she hadn’t known that he was coming from a place of personal experience then, but she understood the sympathy in his eyes now.

He’d done so much good, and he’d helped so many people, turning the strange gift or curse of life that he’d been given to a higher calling, and Riza couldn’t bear to think of what might be happening to him now and of him being experimented on again, turned into a lab rat through circumstances he had no control over.

She wiped her eyes before Roy could notice her tears and took a sip of her cocoa to cover the action.

“It’s real now,” Roy muttered suddenly.

“Sorry?”

“It’s real now. It’s really happening. Before, when we were all just sitting around with all these books and papers trying to work out what was going on, it still felt like we were detached from it in a way. We knew that something was going on and we knew that it was bad, but there wasn’t the same sense of urgency that there is now. It had already affected us – Hughes had almost died for the secret, so we knew that they were serious about it. But we’d got Hughes back and he was safe, and maybe that lulled us into a false sense of security. All the talk of the Philosopher’s Stone and Bradley trying to be immortal, it still felt so fantastical and unreal. Now we know that the Philosopher’s Stone exists, and immortality is real and achievable, and suddenly it seems like Bradley might succeed.”

“He won’t,” Riza said, although she could hear the lack of conviction behind her own words. “I’ve spent enough time reading novels in that shop downstairs to know that this is all part of the journey. This is the part where the intrepid hero encounters just one obstacle too many and begins to doubt himself, and then we’ll have a great climactic finale where he saves the world, gets the girl and makes it home in time for dinner.”

Roy looked up from his cocoa mug and smiled. “I think I’m doing the hero’s journey out of order in that case. I’ve already got the girl.”

“Yes. You have.” Riza leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m not going anywhere, Roy. No matter what happens, you will always have me at your back. Just like I know you’ve always got my back.”

It really was a fitting description, considering that it was her back that had forged the deep bond of trust between them in the first place. Roy knew the secret of her back, and he had kept it faithfully all these years; he truly had her back in all senses of the word.

“Thank you.”

They finished their cocoa in silence, and Riza dumped the mugs in the sink. She didn’t know that she would be able to get to sleep any better than she had done before, especially not with the knowledge that Roy would be just a few steps away on the couch, but Roy himself looked ready to drop with exhaustion, so she decided it would be best to leave him to get what rest he could, especially if he was on a mission to the armoury in the morning.

“Good night, Roy.”

“Good night, Riza.”

She closed her bedroom door behind her and leaned back against it, closing her eyes.

Maybe the next time Roy ended up in her apartment, all of this would have come to a happy conclusion, and he would be coming into this room with her. It certainly wasn’t the first time she had thought about it, but this time she pushed it to the side. It wasn’t the time or place, and as much as she craved the comfort that such intimacy would bring her, they were both too emotional to be sure of no regrets in the morning.

Soon though. Hopefully soon.

#FMA:Brotherhood #FMA Fanfiction #Royai #Riza Hawkeye #Roy Mustang #Van Hohenheim #Fic: Forged Through Fire

11 notes · View notes

love-and-monsters · 4 years ago

Text

Wyvern Prince 24

M wyvern X F human, 2,952 words.

This is the final chapter of the Wyvern Prince story, not including the epilogue. How will the story end for Davrakoss and Sara? Let’s see!

Davrakoss worked his fingers through your hair, smoothing out the last of the knots. The outfit you were wearing was quite different from your usual attire. It was a deep emerald dress with a few flowers embroidered at the hems in gold thread. You had no idea where Davrakoss had managed to find it, but he had pulled it out from somewhere.

“You look lovely,” he said, looking you over. You stood up, shaking out your skirts and adjusting your hair one last time. He rested his hands on your shoulders, smoothing down your dress a little. “Nervous?”

“Yes,” you said. “You don’t seem to be, though.”

“Well, I won’t say I’m not nervous,” he said, mouth twisting in a little frown. “But I’m trying not to be. It is a little reassuring to know that no matter what the Queen says, there is nothing she can do to take you away from me.”

“I wouldn’t bet too hard on that,” you said. Davrakoss shook his head, apparently unconcerned.

“Oh, trust me. There really is nothing she can do.” He hooked his arm fondly with yours. “Are you ready?”

“Ready,” you said. He took a deep breath and you exited his room.

There were two guards waiting for you on the other side of the door. They closed in tight around you, keeping slightly ahead. Davrakoss kept his arm tightly locked around yours. You could feel the swish of his tail back and forth against the back of your dress.

You stopped outside the Queen’s private quarters. You had never been allowed in this section of the castle before. Only the highest ranking of servants were allowed. The door was enormous and wooded. One of the soldiers stepped forward and knocked twice on the door. Apparently alerted by some silent signal, he nodded to the other one and they pulled the door open.

The room was full of ornate portraits and metal light fixtures. A chandelier with hundreds of tiny, glittering crystals hung from the ceiling. Towering windows overlooked the castle grounds, giving a good view of the gardens. Rich, red curtains framed the windows. There was a table in the middle of the room. The bits of it that weren’t covered by plates of exquisite food were a deep mahogany brown.

Sitting toward the back of the room, on a throne partially obscured by hanging curtains, was the Queen.

You instinctively went down in a bow. Davrakoss just dipped his head a little in a polite, if small, gesture. “Sit,” the Queen said, gesturing toward the table. As you sat down, she emerged from behind the curtains and settled at the head of the table.

She was wearing dark clothes, her hair curled and close to her head. Her gaze was remote, but calculating. Looking at Davrakoss showed that his expression had become similar. Both of them seemed like they were sizing the other up. You were reminded of two dogs facing off, the tense, assessing moment before fangs started snapping.

“This is your paramour,” the Queen said, turning her head toward you. Automatically, you froze. It was your first instinct to bow, though you managed to resist. “You were assigned to be his servant, were you not?”

You nodded. “Yes, your majesty.”

She looked at you for a long moment before letting out a small “Hmm,” and turning her gaze back to Davrakoss. “She is the reason you do not wish to marry?”

“One of them,” Davrakoss said. He picked up a cup of tea and sipped at it slowly. “We have discussed it with the king and queen of the wyverns. Both have agreed to the relationship.”

The Queen’s eyes narrowed a little. “Hm.” She stared down at you again. “Are you looking for my approval as well?”

Davrakoss set his teacup down and lifted his gaze to hers. “If you were to approve the relationship and allow me to pursue it without any further interruptions, I would be most grateful.” His voice was tense. You got the idea he was trying very hard to keep polite.

The Queen sat back in her seat. She looked down her nose at him, apparently thinking rather hard. “If you were to marry my candidate,” she said, “it would be a sound way to ensure a positive relationship between our people.”

Davrakoss narrowed his eyes. “There must be another way to do it,” he said. “One that would allow me to pursue my own relationship.”

The Queen’s brows rose a little bit. “If you only wish to pursue your own relationship, I think I have a solution for you,” she said. “It would not be the first time a royal kept a consort. If you are willing to marry, then I can ensure that you will be able to keep your Sara as an aide. Your wife will, of course attend any political functions with you and you will need to behave as a couple in public, but when you are on your own, you needn’t be with her.”

Davrakoss closed his eyes. You could feel his tail beginning to lash next to you and you rested your hand on it. “You want me to lie? To be engaged in a false marriage for nothing more than political gain?”

“It is the best way to ensure that the future will have peace,” the Queen said, her voice sharpening. “I do not wish to be at war with your people, and I know that you do not wish to be at war with mine. If the future king of the wyverns marries an important political figure of my own kingdom, it will ensure that we will have peace for years to come.”

You squeezed Davrakoss’ tail. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And if the marriage no longer had any political significance? If, perhaps, the marriage was not between a future king of the wyverns, but simply with a wyvern with limited political power?”

The Queen’s brows rose slowly. “What point are you trying to make?” she asked.

“I had a discussion with my parents while I was away,” Davrakoss said.

You caught where he was going with this and seized his arm hurriedly, pulling him to whisper to him. “Is this a good idea? I thought you weren’t supposed to tell anyone.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Davrakoss said, eyes still turned toward the Queen. “I know what I’m doing.”

He cleared his throat. “One of the important factors of being a king is the ability to produce an heir,” he said. “If I were to marry a human, I would no longer be able to produce a legitimate child.”

“I’m certain that your species puts little weight on marriage. You could have another wyvern as your breeding partner, if you wish,” the Queen said dismissively. Davrakoss gave a small, slightly sarcastic smile.

“I think you are under the impression that my species is as open to the idea of sleeping around as yours,” he said. The Queen stiffened a little, eyes growing sharper. You tightened your grip on Davrakoss. He gave a reassuring squeeze. “It is unlikely that I would find someone willing to remain with me for as long as it would take to produce and raise an egg. And, of course, you must consider the fact that, at this point, I am having essentially two extramarital affairs. I don’t think you’d find many women who would be pleased by that. Would your chosen wife still be willing to marry with the knowledge that her husband will barely even have time for her? And that she will have to raise a wyvern chick?”

The Queen’s expression tightened a little more. “What, exactly, are you proposing, then?” Her voice was sharp, but you could see a little bit of uncertainty in her expression. Davrakoss, on the other hand, looked utterly confident as he continued.

“I have a bit of a proposal,” he said. “I have already made up my mind about being with my Sara.” He lifted your hand to his lips briefly, kissing your knuckles. “Which means that, more than likely, I will no longer be able to attain the throne. She cannot produce an heir for me either. However, this means I have a proposal for my own position in the kingdom, if you are willing to hear it?” He paused, looking up at the Queen. It was interesting, you thought. He was posturing as if he were trying to serve her, but he had positioned himself as the leader in the conversation.

“What are you proposing?” the Queen said. Davrakoss smiled politely.

“I can continue to serve here as an ambassador. I think you will agree that, so far, it has been fairly successful? We’ve been enjoying a time of consistent peace between our two peoples. So, I think that this endeavor should be continued. I will remain here as the ambassador for the wyverns. I will be able to hold the position for a long time, which will give my parents the proper amount of time to produce a new potential heir. Perhaps by the time that has happened, we will have attained enough of a peace to stop this marriage foolishness.”

The Queen leaned back in her seat. Talsim wrapped his fingers around yours and squeezed, hard. You glanced at his face. It looked, on the surface, very relaxed and confident, but you could see the lines of stress around his eyes and the tightness of his lips. If the Queen refused his plan… well, you weren’t entirely sure what would happen, but you didn’t think Davrakoss had a backup plan.

The silence stretched on, Davrakoss’ fingers so tight on yours, you thought he might be about to break your hand. The Queen’s eyes glittered. You could almost see her mind working behind them, carefully thinking over the plan.

Finally, she opened her mouth. “Very well,” he said. “I accept your plan. As long as it is working, I will allow you to remain here, as the ambassador for the wyverns.” She turned her gaze onto you. Instinctively, you ducked your head. Davrakoss’ thumb traced your knuckles in support. “Sara is released from her obligations as a servant of the castle. You have my blessing to continue your relationship.”

“Thank you,” Davrakoss said. There was the slightest tremble of relief in his voice. You felt almost lightheaded with happiness.

The rest of the lunch passed with dizzying swiftness. You ate while barely tasting anything. Davrakoss and the Queen were discussing something, but it didn’t seem to be of any real importance. The only thing you were really aware of was that Davrakoss did not release your hand for as long as you sat there with him.

Finally, the lunch ended. Davrakoss stood and you bowed to the Queen together before stepping out into the hallway.

As soon as you were outside, Davrakoss seized you and swung you around in a massive hug. His face was buried in your shoulder, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

“I love you.” You could feel the words as much as you could hear them. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back. “I love you.” He squeezed you almost crushingly tight, then, with obvious reluctance, lowered you to the ground.

“Then it all worked out?” you asked, trying to quell the little flicker of worry that still squirmed in your stomach. “Everything is all right?”

“It should be,” Davrakoss said. “We’re not going to war. I’m not going to have to marry anyone.” He rested his forehead against yours. His fingers kept tracing over your body, running over your skin like he couldn’t get enough of it. Like he never wanted to stop touching you. “I’m so happy… so happy you’re still with me.”

One of the guards cleared their throat and you broke apart from him. Davrakoss lowered his hands with extreme reluctance and looked at them. “I think we can find our way back to our room from here,” he said dismissively. “Thank you.” The two guards nodded and headed off into the castle. Davrakoss went back to looking down at you.

“Oh,” you said, something else finally rolling into place. “I’ve been fired.”

Davrakoss blinked and you could see him running the conversation with the queen over in his head. “She did dismiss you,” he said. “Didn’t I already do that, though?”

“Well, you said I couldn’t be your servant anymore and you offered me a new position. Now I’ve been formally released from my contract of servitude at the castle, too. I imagine it’s a formality more than anything. It’s just to make sure I can’t use the title of servant to do some spying for you.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” Davrakoss said. You gave him a gentle nudge on his arm.

“I know you wouldn’t but she’s the Queen. She really can’t risk it.” You gave him a sideways look. “This means that I’ll have to stay with you. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Davrakoss grinned. His smile was almost blindingly bright. “I’m a little more than okay with it,” he said. “Do we need to go pick up your things from your room?”

“Oh,” you said. “I guess we do.” Davrakoss held out his arm and you linked yours through it.

You walked through the castle, arms linked together. There were a few stares, but it seemed more like people had started to get used to your presence. A few of them even nodded respectfully at you. You paid little attention to them, though. Instead, you focused Davrakoss’ presence next to you. The sway of his tail and the feeling of his shoulder brushing against yours.

You entered your room in the servant’s quarters. “There’s not too much stuff we have to move,” you said. “I don’t have much. And a lot of stuff got put in your room already.”

Davrakoss looked around the room for a few moments, taking in the small space. “I haven’t been in here in a while,” he said.

“No, we usually stay in your room, don’t we?” you said. “It’s a nicer room, really.”

“I suppose so. I’m used to a cave, though, so this is still pretty nice to me.” Davrakoss sat on the bed. “You remember the fire, don’t you?”

You opened your closet and looked through your clothes. “It would be very hard to forget. I remember you saved me.”

“I thought you were going to die,” Davrakoss said. “I was terrified.” He looked at you thoughtfully. “I realized I was really in love with you after that. When I was taking care of you.”

“You did?”

“Mmhm.” He nodded slowly.

“I can’t pinpoint a specific moment when I realized,” you said. “I think it sort of happened gradually, and then I looked at you and I realized that I loved you.”

Davrakoss got to his feet and strode across the room to you. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I didn’t think you were going to love me at first,” he said. “Humans and wyverns have never had the best of relationships. And I know that many humans are frightened of wyverns.”

“I was scared of you at first,” you admitted. “But you’re not really someone to be scared of. You’re kind and gentle and caring. You just want to do what’s right and make sure everything goes well for your people. I think you’re better than most humans, honestly.”

“Well, better than some humans,” Davrakoss said. He leaned close to you, eyes glowing like embers. “I can think of some humans I like far more than me.”

You laughed as he kissed your eyelids. “I was pretty sure you weren’t going to like me either,” you said.

“Yes, I remember that,” Davrakoss said. “It was ridiculous. There are many things to like about you. You’re patient, you’re understanding, you’re clever, you’re thoughtful…” He pulled back so he could look in your eyes again. “I think you’re wonderful.” He grinned, shoulders trembling with laughter. There was some incredulity in his eyes, like he couldn’t believe you were in front of him. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you said. You pressed your mouth to his in a heated, passionate kiss. Davrakoss sighed against you. He wrapped himself around you, squeezing you tight against him. No matter how much contact there was between you, there wasn’t enough. You could have held onto him forever, just sinking into the warmth and love you could feel radiating from him.

He broke away from you. You made a small noise of protest. “We should go back to my room,” he said. “My bed is much more comfortable than yours.”

You let out a nervous giggle. “Right. We should.” You scrambled off your bed and pulled the rest of your belongings together. Davrakoss gathered a couple of bags into his arms.

“Are you ready?” he asked. You looked around the room. A sense of loss prickled in your chest. Despite its small size and its dreary interior, it was still yours. And now you were leaving it.

“Sara?” Davrakoss nudged you lightly. You looked back at him. His hair was highlighted by the warm sunlight and his scales glittered like emeralds. You smiled and he immediately returned it. The sense of loss was eclipsed entirely by the swooping joy in your stomach when you looked at him.

Something was ending, and something much more wonderful was beginning.

“Yes,” you said, stepping forward and linking your arm through his. “I’m ready.”

And you left the servant’s quarters to head up to your room in the castle. Together.

#exophilia #wyvern prince #wyvern #wyvern boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster lover #wyvern lover #MxF #reader insert

100 notes · View notes

letswritebangtan · 4 years ago

Text

Brave Tender Heart 03 | The Duality of Secrecy

pairing: princess!reader x knight!jungkook

The prince massaged his temples roughly as he stared blankly at the script in front of him. An enthusiastic farmer believed he was enlightening the prince with his proposal of a new crop he had discovered. The farmer was proud to share his discovery with the prince in best hopes that it would benefit the kingdom. However, Taehyung was not convinced. Adding a new crop to the land was not an easy task. There were many factors to be considered, such as the type of soil, whether it grows collectively or if it liked to be secluded and rather snobbish. The prince tried to focus on the details of the script, but his head was pounding and he lost the will to concentrate.

“Sir Kim!” he groaned and he was by his side in a flash.

The farmer looked confused and worried at the prince’s unexpected reaction.

“Inform the maids to make my bed and prepare mother’s herb recipe for a headache. A jug of water and a bowl of soup, I feel I might collapse at any second.” Taehyung sighed.

Sir Kim immediately called upon the maids to take care of Taehyung. With all of the work Taehyung had to do, Sir Kim was very understanding of his plight. The prince had been overworked yet again and Sir Kim felt troubled in his heart as if it was his doing.

“Not to worry, my prince. Let’s set you off for the bedroom. The script will be looked over by myself and only when you are willing to hear about it should the news reach you. Rise now my prince.” Sir Kim said carefully as he helped Taehyung stand. The pair left the room and the farmer remained standing in the middle of the meeting room. Disappointed with how the proposal turned out, the farmer sighed and moved forward to pick up his script. Once he finished rolling it up he placed it under his arm and began to head for the exit.

“One moment, sir.” a man called out.

The farmer continued to move not realising that it was him that the man was referring to.

“Sir! The farmer with the script, halt.” the man called out again.

The farmer turned around looking surprised as he saw a tall and healthy man stride towards him.

“What is this crop you speak of?” the man ask.

The farmer looked unsure to share the information. “I beg your pardon, what position do you hold here?”

The man’s eyes widened and he let out a knowing ‘ah’ and extended his hand.

“My apologies I must have sounded extremely forward. I go by the name Kim Seokjin the head chef at this palace, I serve only the best to the prince and princess.”

The farmer nodded, “Ah, well pleased to meet you, Mr Kim. Jung Hoseok, I reside on the outskirts of the village and I have traveled a long way to present this proposal.”

“Mr Jung, I might be able to help you with your idea. Is this crop of yours edible?”

“Of course, Mr Kim! It is a variation of the paddy rice and is less susceptible to heavy rainfall. It would do well on the palace grounds since this is the only place in the kingdom with soil worthy enough to allow these crops to live. If the kingdom is able to harvest more rice it would be much cheaper for us villagers and we might be able to sell the food item during monsoon season where rice grains are scarce.”

“How terrific. But what’s your secret?” Mr Kim asked skeptically.

Hoseok looked confused, “Secret? I do not have any reason to believe there is any.”

“Well surely this crop of yours has some faults. It can’t be perfect, can it?”

“I would not dare to term it as perfect, but there is no downfall that we should be concerned of. Some hard work and regrowing of crops is all the effort we need to put in and we will have no reason to miss having rice during the monsoon.” Hoseok concluded.

“You build a strong case, Mr Jung. Therefore, I am offering you a place in a partnership. I happen to have a reserved plot of land handed to me by the palace, and I am allowed to use it to grow whatever I need to feed our dearest royal siblings. If you are willing to work with me, I shall allow your crop to grow fruitfully in it.” Seokjin said boldly.

“And what is it you would like in return?”

“That you provide those crops to me with no cost at all.”

“Fair enough, Mr Kim, are you sure this will not make the prince unhappy?”

“Do you think the prince would be unhappy to have a large bowl of steaming hot rice during the rainy season?” Seokjin joked.

Hoseok laughed and bowed to him as an act of saying goodbye. The two parted, happy to have made a profitable deal. Elsewhere in the castle, the princess was eagerly waiting for her brother to fulfil his promise. The prince, however, was dozing off in his room while the princess paced nervously in the corridors. Would Sir Jeon appreciate the plaque? Would it be a tad bit informal? Would it offend him so? The princess wanted to express her gratitude to his service, but why just his? Should he ask her that she was afraid she would not have a proper reply. It was because she liked him, and there was no knight she liked more than him. He made her feel comfortable and most of all, accompanied. Could she be acting selfish? It was rather unfair to award a knight with a plaque just because she liked him, what about the other knights? Though, it was just a plaque, however, at the same time it was not because the princess meant for it to have a large sentimental value. Her mind was going crazy.

“Princess, what are you whispering?” Sir Park asked as he eyed her with amusement.

“Whispering? You’re mistaken, I was not speaking at all.” y/n defended.

“In fact, you were. Tension and worry is not worth anything, princess. Relax, it will be here soon enough.” he assured.

“I am certain it will be here, Sir Park. That is not my concern.”

“Let me guess, this is concerning Sir Jeon.”

“He will not be mad, will he?” y/n asked worriedly.

“Mad? Princess, if there’s one thing I have never seen Sir Jeon do, it’s expressing his anger. He is lively and fun, calm when he needs to be. Anger is an unfamiliar sensation to him, and to feel it towards you I’m sure he will be more than regretful. Besides, who would be mad at receiving such a thoughtful gift?”

“I suppose you’re right.” y/n nodded.

“Princess,” a servant bowed. He held out the plaque towards the princess that was covered in a white cloth. Sir Park lifted the cloth slowly and this caused the princess to beam widely.

“It’s perfect, isn’t it?” she gasped.

“Now you need not worry about upsetting him.” said Sir Park grinning at the plaque.

The princess thanked the servant and then carried the gift in her own arms as she made her way to the entrance of the garden. Sir Jeon had agreed to meet her there for their scheduled morning walk.

“I shall leave you to it then, princess.” Sir Park said bowing.

“You can’t stay?”

“I’m afraid a knight’s duty calls. Let me know the details later, I’ll be waiting.” Sir Park smiled and then left the princess all on her own.

y/n tapped her fingers nervously on the plaque she was holding, and looked around for Sir Jeon but he was not spotted anywhere. She felt someone bump into her shoulder from the back and she stumbled, clutching onto the plaque for dear life.

“Oh dear, princess, I beg your forgiveness! I-It was completely unintentional, I sincerely apologise-”

“No worries, sir.” she said after she calmed down. “It was a mistake, that is well understood.” y/n said kindly.

“My apologies once again princess.” he repeated bowing. The man held a scroll of paper under his right arm and the princess was intrigued.

“And what might that be?” y/n asked curiously.

The farmer looked alarmed for a second as if the princess had caught him with some sort of illegal good. Then he realised she was referring to his scroll with his plan.

“It is a proposal I meant to discuss with the prince. He seems rather unwell, so I thought it would be best to return some other time.”

“The prince is unwell?” y/n asked concernedly. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m not sure, princess. He seemed tired, but not to worry he should be resting at the moment.”

y/n frowned as she thought about her brother. He must have overworked himself again. Maybe it was because he was working to get that plaque done so quickly. Then she felt a pang of guilt and looked away.

“Is anything the matter, princess?”

“Oh, not at all.” she lied. She didn’t know if what she was feeling at the moment was because of her brother’s weak state, or if it was because Sir Jeon was late for their walk. The afternoon sun was peeking through the clouds and it would be terribly hot outside.

“I shall take my leave.” Hoseok bowed and went off with his scroll tucked under his right arm.

y/n sighed and started to go on the walk herself. She lifted the heavy plaque while taking small, slow steps forward, observing the scene around her. In the distance she could see the farmers working on the field, and in the other direction she saw the horse stables. y/n walked for longer until the afternoon sun rose, and she turned around to head back inside. The palace was a lot cooler than the outside. The main hall looked inviting so the princess sat on one of the large chairs after she placed the heavy plaque on the table, and turned on the radio for entertainment.

In the meantime, Sir Jeon was struggling with saddening information elsewhere. He had woken up that morning feeling hopeful and positive for the first time in a long time because he was looking forward to spending his morning with the princess. However, life had other plans for him instead. He received a telegram just as he stepped out of his room at the palace. The jarring, red font alerted him that this was no simple matter.

His father was missing.

After a long quest in a kingdom far away, his father was defeated by the harsh brutality of the opposing army. Hundreds of them went into battle, and there were numerous bodies found, but none of them was his father’s. His father was not among those knights that returned either. There was no telling where and how his father was.

“He can’t be dead.” Jungkook muttered.

“Sir Jeon, we have reason to believe-”

“He’s missing, not dead. How could you so falsely accuse him of being so? It says so here in the letter that he’s dead but you just confirmed that he could just be missing.” he snapped angrily.

“Calm down, Sir Jeon. We have not made any accusations. The news is that your father is missing, but possibly...” the messenger paused.

Jungkook looked shocked, angered but also extremely hurt.

“Has the news reached my family?” he asked lowly.

“Just this morning, yes. We advise that you spend time with them, Sir Jeon.”

“You needn’t share any of your advice. It is written here on this telegram that my father is considered dead. What are you going to do if you find him alive?” he spoke angrily.

“The chances are slim, Sir Jeon. We do not want to give you and your family any form of false hope, we understand that this grievance is a tough process to go through-”

“So you won’t change it?” he snapped.

“I am only following orders, Sir Jeon. If you want, you can take this matter to my superiors, they are the only ones who can help you. However, I suggest you take some time to let this information settle in. Go and visit your family, stay together in these tough times. If you still wish to correct the status of your father then come to us in a week’s time and we will help you sort it out. As for now, there is nothing we can do.”

“Are you searching for him, at least?” Jungkook said defeatedly.

The messenger inhaled sharply, not sure of what to answer this poor boy that stood in front of him who had just lost his father.

“We hope that these things sort themselves out. There isn’t much we can do-”

“Just, leave me be.” Jungkook muttered, tired of hearing all the excuses.

After shutting the door he threw the telegram onto his bed and put his head in his hands. It was a lot to process, but Jungkook knew that being a knight was not a safe job. They were always thrown to fight, always exposed to danger that it shouldn’t be a surprise that his father was missing. He hadn’t spoke to his father in months since he had left for this quest which he probably should have thought about more since they usually wrote to each other each month. Jungkook felt depressed at one point, and he thought the best person to see right now was his mother. They probably needed to see him as well.

Jungkook went out early and jumped on his horse, Chingu, riding through the early morning mist. There were others gathered around his small home, probably seeking to offer some comfort. Jungkook went inside, and the atmosphere felt cold and empty. Chaeyong, his little sister was sat in the embrace of their neighbour. She didn’t look devastated, because she was too young to understand the impact of what had happened.

“Chaeyong.” Jungkook called out to her, and his little sister beamed upon seeing her brother.

“Jungkook oppa, you came back!” she exclaimed as she ran over to him.

Jungkook smiled and lifted his sister off her legs, twirling and tickling her so that she laughed until she couldn’t breathe, and he laughed along with her.

“Chaeyong, don’t be too loud-” his mother appeared. She stopped when she saw Jungkook. Jungkook put his sister down carefully and smiled sadly at his mother.

“I came as soon as I could, eomma.”

“Oh, Jungkook.” she teared up and pulled her son into a hug.

Although knights were taught to be tough and strong, Jungkook was a pure softie at heart. He couldn’t hold back his tears at the sight of his mother crying.

“He’s only missing.” Jungkook reassured. “He’ll find his way back to us.”

His mother sighed, “Jungkook, I’ve confirmed with the messenger earlier. They will document your father as dead.”

“What? Why would you tell them that?” Jungkook asked confused.

“He is not coming back, Jungkook. The odds are extremely low-”

“Don’t you have at least a little bit of hope for him? I can understand why the messenger didn’t, but he’s your husband!”

“They have not finished searching the site of the battle, he could be there. Even if he made it out alive, he was not found with the other knights. There is no way he could have survived in their land, they are murderous, Jungkook, you of all people should know that.” his mother scolded.

“He can fend for himself and survive this!” Jungkook said exasperated.

“That’s enough.” his mother snapped.

Jungkook huffed and wiped the small tears from his eyes.

“The sooner we accept this, the better. I know it’s difficult, Jungkook, but giving us hope that is non-existent will only hurt us more. Please, don’t fight this.” his mother calmed him down.

“Don’t cry, oppa.” Chaeyong tugged on his sleeve.

“I have to get back to the palace.” Jungkook lied.

“So suddenly? Shouldn’t the prince give you time to-”

“To grieve? Grieve on what, eomma? Father is still out there so there is not grieving necessary. I’ll have to head back now.”

“We haven’t spent time together in months, Jungkook. Stay at least for the day-” his mother tried to persuade.

“I have my duties to attend to, it’s my job. You knew from the very beginning that this was what my life was going to be like. You knew I could never spend time at home yet you pushed me into it, so now there is no room for complaints.” Jungkook said angrily.

His mother didn’t know what to say, and let her son go. Jungkook hugged his sister goodbye and then took Chingu out for a ride around the lake. He needed peace of mind, time to think things through and accept things. The grass was slightly damp and Jungkook lay down on its thick bedding. He closed his eyes and opened them to find more tears spilling out. The time he lay there crying silently extended into the afternoon, and then he spent the evening in slumber.

The princess switched off the radio. No matter which frequency she moved to all she could think about was: where the hell was Sir Jeon? She knew for sure he was not showing up, but she wondered if he was okay. The prince ascended the stairs and entered the living room to see his sister pondering deep in her thoughts. He spotted the plaque still on the table and could not help but to ask.

“I’m taking things did not go well?”

“Is he off on a mission? Did you send him to do things today?” y/n asked.

“Sir Jeon? No, in fact most of my day has been a blur. It feels like it has only just started.”

y/n remembered that her brother wasn’t feeling well and her expression softened immediately. “Are you feeling better?”

Taehyung nodded, “Yes, a lot better.”

“You stress to much, Tae.” y/n said frowning.

“Well, it’s not exactly a piece of cake to run a kingdom, I’m sure you would understand. You didn’t exactly succeed.”

The princess felt a pang in her chest at that statement, but she ignored it.

“All I’m saying is that remember that your health is extremely important. None of us would want to see you ill. And I apologise, I think I may have pressured you to get the plaque done in such a short amount of time.”

Taehyung looked confused and then shook his head. “Your plaque had nothing to do with this.”

“Are you sure?” y/n sounded surprised.

“Definitely, I was just stressing over the increased fires in town. I would have to compensate the entire kingdom if this keeps up.”

“We’ll find a way to reduce them.” y/n assured.

“Let’s hope we shall.” he nodded.

The princess heard the palace doors open and shut, and she stood up immediately. The prince turned to look and looked back at the princess.

“He’s back.” the prince confirmed.

y/n grabbed the plaque and rushed straight to the entrance. Jungkook was removing some of his armor, he looked tired and worn out. y/n was hoping for a good explanation as to why he stood her up this morning. She stepped forward and Jungkook looked up at her.

“Princess...” he said in a grateful tone, happy to see her. Then his expression fell when he saw her unpleasant one.

“Good to see you too, Sir Jeon.” she mumbled.

Then Jungkook remembered why he felt good when he woke up this morning. He completely skipped a walk with the princess. Well, guess who’s in big trouble.

“Shit....I am incredibly sorry, princess. I meant to meet you for our walk but it completely slipped my mind.”

y/n sighed, “That’s alright. A walk is not the most important thing, anyway.” she said trying to hide her disappointment.

Jungkook frowned and quickly took one of her hands in his. “No, it is not alright. I made a promise to you and I failed to live up to it. I was looking forward to spending this morning with you, princess, however the day took a drastic turn and I was caught up in it. If you let me, I’d like to make it up to you.”

y/n smiled softly at him, “Just tell me next time if you aren’t going to make it.”

Jungkook felt terrible, he can’t believe he upset the person he really, really liked.

“If I could turn back time, I would have been there for you, princess.” he said sincerely, looking into her eyes.

“And I believe you, Sir Jeon.” y/n confirmed.

He smiled at her in relief and she laughed at his funny expression.

“I have something for you.” y/n said pushing the plaque into his hands.

Jungkook raised an eyebrow and took it from her gratefully.

“And what might this be?”

“Reveal it and I shall explain to you.” y/n said nervously.

He looked at her and laughed softly, “I should be the one giving you a gift since I wronged you, not the other way around.”

“Just stop talking and open it, Sir Jeon. I’ve been waiting all day to give it to you.” y/n insisted.

He felt bad again and nodded, immediately pulling off the white cloth and reading the contents on the plaque. His frown only deepened as he went on reading.

“I-It’s a gift from the prince and I. We want to thank you and everyone before you who had served us here at the palace. I heard that your father’s medals and badges got lost in a fire and I know that this can never replace that but hopefully it’s something you can now keep to commemorate how loyal you and your family have been to us over many generations.” y/n explained.

Jungkook felt that upsetting feeling he felt earlier today.

“You made this to commemorate my father?” he asked not sounding happy.

“Uh, y-yes you could say that?”

“For the last time, my father is not dead.” he snapped harshly.

The princess looked surprised at his reaction and was confused at his response. “Excuse me?”

“He is just missing, not dead. If the entire kingdom wishes to give up on him there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s sickening and incredibly insulting. He will come back, and when he does all of you will feel ashamed. How can you speak all these lies without feeling any guilt? You’re crushing my family’s hopes, my hopes by constantly assuming that he is dead but I believe in that man and dead is the one thing that he is not. The sooner you realise that, the less stupid you will sound.” Jungkook said angrily.

y/n couldn’t move. She tried to comprehend what he was saying but she failed. He sounded angry yes, but she could see that he was even more hurt. His father is dead? Or wait, he’s missing? What was he talking about?

“I-I’m sorry, I intended for this to be a gift, I had no idea it would offend you-”

“You’re just like the rest, princess. It’s highly disappointing.” he muttered.

Jungkook left the plaque on a table next to him and then walked off without saying anything else. y/n felt the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes but she held it back. Why was she even crying anyway? Some people just don’t like gifts, there was no harm in that. But why did he have to insult her in that way?

“He literally called me stupid and disappointing.” y/n complained to Sir Park.

“Wow, you must have really struck a nerve, princess.”

“But I don’t know what I did! He started talking about his father who is apparently missing? And something about how the entire kingdom didn’t believe in him and ugh, he’s so confusing.” y/n huffed.

“His father? Jungkook’s father was sent on a missions a few years ago and he never returned. He wrote to Sir Jeon every month, although if you come to think of it he hasn’t for a while. I would know because I collect his letters for him.” Sir Park said.

y/n frowned, “So something happened to his father? That’s horrible, but I had no idea until just now. And how is that related to him getting upset over the plaque?”

“Maybe you should talk to him.” Sir Park suggested.

“I don’t think he wants to see anyone right now, Park. Especially me.” y/n sighed.

It was bad she had to spend the day thinking about why Sir Jeon didn’t show up. Now she was going to spend the night thinking about his outburst earlier. Sir Park wished y/n a good night a while later and left the room for y/n to get ready for bed. She really wanted answers, but she could only get them from Jungkook. However, he was in no mood to speak right now. It was going to be a sleepless night for the two of them. y/n couldn’t lose Sir Jeon, he was an amazing person who made her feel comfortable and at home. After a long, long while she finally found a new friend, a companion. He understood her in so many ways, she would never be able to open up to someone else like that. She wanted to mend things as soon as possible, because her heart was not at ease that they were in a bad place. Which is why she decided she would sneak into his room, tonight.

A/N: I have finally updated omg! It’s a really long chapter, I hope you guys enjoy part 3 <3

42 notes · View notes

rideboldlyride · 4 years ago

Text

Calloused

Summary: Iroh hadn’t been able to watch. The pure horror of a man - a father- burning their child for a slight infraction... He couldn’t do anything to stop it, but he will stop his brother from destroying entirely the kind boy he knew Zuko could be.

(I’ll post this in the morning to AO3, but I really wanted to get this out today, since it’s been something I wanted to write since I began Perfect.)

[EDIT: here’s the link!]

Iroh was not surprised, but deeply saddened when the news reached him at his nephew's bedside. It arrived inconspicuously, in the hand of an unassuming and unmarked guard. The only thing to identify the origin of the letter was the Fire Lord’s insignia on the seal.

“By Order Of Fire Lord Ozai,

Former Crown Prince Zuko is hereby stripped of both rank and home, and forthwith banished from the lands, commonwealth and colonies held by the Fire Nation, for the crime of dishonoring the Fire Lord, and bringing shame upon the Throne of the Fire Nation. Immediately, upon receipt of notice, the Crown Prince is to move with all reasonable haste from the Nation and its Territories, lest he wish to face the Lord’s wrath.

By the Decree of the Fire Lord,

Long May He Rule in Agni’s Light.”

His brother’s firm, bold character at the bottom of the notice left no doubt of his perspective on the matter. Disgusted, Iroh hefted his solid frame from the chair beside his resting nephew’s sick bed. The healers had already come and gone -- there was no certainty that the young man was going to regain sight in his injured eye, and the ointment used to coat and soothe the burn was only to dull the pain. Due to the extent and severity of the burn, there was a great chance of infection. The only thing that kept the young man from screaming out in pain was the tranquilizing tea he was coerced to swallow down between his feverish episodes.

If the Fire Lord was following the tradition associated with banishment, Zuko was to be moved immediately. The Dragon was certain what that would spell for the young man, and was determined to prevent any more loss of those he loved.

Turning to the menservants hovering near the young man’s bedside, he located the one in charge.

“Whatever may happen while I am gone,” the retired general leveled a steely gaze at him, his amber eyes leaving no room for failure, “no one is to move the Prince. If anyone, guards or otherwise, arrives to take him away, send for me at one.”

The young man, hardly older than the 13 year old in the bed, nodded sagely. Face softening, the General nodded slightly, then made his way out the door. As he entered the hallway, he allowed the storminess that had brewed inside him from the moment he had heard of the Agni Kai, to finally show upon his face. Ozai might be Fire Lord, but to Iroh, he was still his obnoxious little brother. Once upon a time, he might have felt a certain pity for him, but the years had not been kind to his disposition. While this once may have been a factor to consider on the part of the older brother, the public humiliation and mutilation of his own son had put what once may have been pity far from his mind. Instead, Iroh felt the rage of a thousand suns build in his belly. The Dragon of the West had made up his mind, and he knew he had the strength behind his words to fulfill what task lay before him.

Ozai deserved no son of this caliber.

To Iroh, as he had given up his right as Crown Prince when he chased his lost son to the Spirit World, Ozai had lost his right as father to Zuko the moment he laid a scorching hand on his son’s face.

With that determination and fire in his eye, no guard stepped forward to stop him as he flung open the doors to his younger brother’s private study.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Dragon’s words hissed, the notice of Zuko’s banishment raised in a barely restrained fist.

“The boy dishonored my general and I.” Without turning away from the fireplace, the Fire Lord - his brother, Iroh reminded himself - responded coldly. He knew Iroh would come in with fire on his heels, and it gave the old general pause. “He must learn the path of honor through pain and shame.”

The Fire Lord turned in his chair by the raging fire. Did he have to keep the fireplace going even in the middle of summer?? Iroh kept the thoughts to himself, exasperated at his brother’s jockey for relevance and drama. Instead, he watched as the dismissal danced across the younger man’s face. Fury continued to eat at the Dragon’s belly.

“Was his public humiliation not enough for you, Ozai?!”

A scowl pulled at his lips, and amber eyes turned back to the burning fire.

“No.”

The response was simple and quiet. Yet, within it Iroh could hear the disgust, the disdain of his own son. All the things that had wronged his brother, real or imagined, they were laid solidly at a thirteen year old boy’s feet. And with a simple act - a scrawl of ink on parchment - he could send his son away with those guilts upon his shoulders.

“You send him away,” Iroh’s voice was quiet, but his words held steel, “with nothing to fight for. You wound him, physically shaming him, in such a way that he will never escape, to wander lands he is not welcome to. You leave him with nothing!”

Incredulousness licked like flames at the older man’s heels. “You don’t even give him a purpose! What do you wish for, Ozai? For him to die?”

Slowly, the Fire Lord stood from his chair before the fire, his slim silhouette cut an intimidating figure before the flames. They rose precariously higher before falling again. It followed a steady pattern. Iroh watched as his shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh, smoke curling from his lips, pulled into a sneer.

“I wish for him to learn the pain that his existence has brought upon me.”

Aghast, Iroh took a step back from the firebender, wishing he had never heard his brother speak so callously of his own son. For a moment, he attempted to envision a situation where his anger could have ever led him to speak so heartlessly of his dear Lu Ten, and his imagination fails him. He swallows hard before continuing.

“You wish upon him a fate worse than the death you could have easily wrought. And you give him no goal for him to reach for - no chance for his own reinstatement to a place of honor before you.” Even as he speaks, the horror of the Agni Kai still sits behind his eyes, the young boy’s screams in his ears. “Give him something, Ozai. Something to attain.”

A dark laugh reached his ears, and stately, Ozai turned to his brother, disgust evident across his features.

“This is why you would have failed as a Fire Lord, Iroh. You cling on to hope for those who do not deserve it. The boy was born weak, and he will die the same. Weak. You want to give him hope that he will live to be more than he is capable of.

“‘It is the duty, nay, the privilege of the mighty to cull the weak. To pull the thorns and thistles from the lilies, so they may grow, devoid of the leeches of the unculled.’ Or have you forgotten your duty, Iroh?”

Amber eyes narrowed. “You may quote from our father as much as you wish. But I recall my younger brother, scared and barely able to stand, cowering before our grandfather, much as your son did before you.”

Eyes like fiery coals rounded on him, wide. “And I fought back. I learned strength! That child has learned nothing! He cowers and cringes and scrapes, and never once does he stand!”

“But he did. He stood for what he thought was right. And for that, you marred him. He has stood before you in the past. Stood between you and his sister, even if she is unaware.” Iroh’s voice dropped dangerously. “How many hits has he taken since Ursa left, Ozai? He cowers before a volcano he cannot hope to stop. And now you tell him he is adrift amongst the lava flow.”

“What would you have me do?!” Ozai stood close, almost nose to nose with his older brother, and washes his expression of disgust with the smoke from his lips as he hissed.

“Give him a quest. Give him hope for his return. A way for him to redeem himself in your eyes. For that is the only person he begs that from.”

“Fine.” The Fire Lord turned away, moving back to the fire.

Iroh nods despite the sensation of dread suddenly curled like a snake in his belly. It was not like Ozai to give in without more of a fight.

“Tell me, Iroh, respected General and Dragon of the West; what is the greatest threat to the Fire Nation?”

Without thought, Iroh speaks, the words of his father and his father’s father ingrained into his subconscious.

“The Avatar.”

A malicious glint catches at the younger man’s eye, casting a smirk over his shoulder to his brother.

“No.” It escapes Iroh’s chest like a death rattle. “It’s an impossible mission.”

The glint hardens like steel. “If my son wishes to prove himself to me, he will find it possible.”

***

Not a full day beyond the fateful Agni Kai, Iroh stood at the cusp of the bow of a small, decommissioned Fire Navy frigate, his back turned away from his nation as the coast disappeared behind him. The salty breeze whipped away the tears that attempted to fall. He had left Caldera City, Ember Island, the Fire Nation itself, before, and he was free to return whenever he so desired. The young man he now accompanied, however, no longer held the same option. His tears fell only for the lost youth in the belly of the ship.

Even as the last tendrils of steam from the Caldera City mountain disappeared into the horizon, he heard the commotion rise from below. The general made his way down below deck, and the doors to the young man’s room were left ajar. As he entered, sad eyes fell upon the young man who struggled against the ship’s only medic - an old field officer unprepared for this sort of wanton injury - trying to restrain him. Iroh rushed to his side, pulling the young man into his arms.

At first, the boy struggled against him, pushing him away. His freshly shaved head glistened from the exertion, combined with the after effects from his severe burn. The struggles became sluggish, and slowly the young boy sagged into the embrace. Iroh didn’t notice when the medic took his leave, a small jar left on the nightstand beside some fresh bandages, or that he made certain to close the door completely as he exited.

A soothing hand circled the young man’s upper back, as the cries of pain mixed with his tears of shame. Through the hiccuping sobs, he managed to get out a few words.

“Why- whe-where am I? W-What happened?”

“That is for another day, Prince Zuko.”

#Zuko #Atla Zuko #atla is my new hell #atla #one shot #iroh #Iroh Atla #Atla iroh #Ozai #atla ozai #Right after the Agni Kai #Angst #tw: child abuse implied #Calloused

21 notes · View notes

smolbeandrabbles · 4 years ago

Text

Castle - Henry IV x Reader (The King)

Hail To The King - but if it wasn’t at all platonic

...? Do the Mendo tag squad even want in on this? I’ll tag ya’ll anyway... @mandy23b @happyskywhale @wltz-bby

Author’s Note: I caved. I caved. But also the discord server thread for him had the subject line “Bed Me Your Majesty” So I don’t think you can blame me. ALSO - As this film was pretty much fanficition of fanfiction of what really happened... I’m writing fanficition, of fanfiction, of fanfiction...! 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ Honestly, it’s literally just artistic licence!

It’s more a talked about relationship; I didn’t go too detail heavy.

TL;DR: If Shakespeare wrote fanfiction on history, so can I!

Disclaimer: Following The King on plot here / gif not mine / lyrics not mine

Premise: Too many people in this Kingdom have big, big plans - but you just want things to stay as they are. You can’t ask for more than you have, considering for your entire life you’ve never wanted anything else but him.

Words: 4985

Warnings: sexual connotations / mild swearing

______

Sick of all these people talking, sick of all this noise Tired of all these cameras flashing, sick of being poised Now my neck is open wide, begging for a fist around it Already choking on my pride, so there's no use crying about it

Oh, all these minutes passing, sick of feeling used If you wanna break these walls down, you're gonna get bruised Now my neck is open wide, begging for a fist around it Already choking on my pride, so there's no use crying about it

I'm headed straight for the castle They wanna make me their queen And there's an old man sitting on the throne That's saying that I probably shouldn't be so mean I'm headed straight for the castle They've got the kingdom locked up And there's an old man sitting on the throne That's saying I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut Straight for the castle

---

You couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing. Well you could – you supposed your parents had never had anything but blind ambition for you; as their only child. But you thought your father ought to have known better than to push such an agenda. He’d been a King’s Guard before you, and been proud to see you – as his daughter no less! – take the mantle from him as Henry ascended the throne. And it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen combat before that – Henry’s insistence to drag you around the Kingdom had seen you in many a battle. To him there was none more worthy. To your parents, since his wife had died, they clearly saw an opportunity; swapping your armour for dresses and your sword for children. As if he didn’t have six already. You wouldn’t have it. “I am his King’s Guard – forgoodnessake! Do you have any idea how much Mary meant to him – to ME!? I cannot take her place and nor WILL I!” “Y/N, please, he needs a Queen.” It would sound better if they were on their knees begging you, instead your parents’ tone was more coercive. “Henry doesn’t need a queen – and even if he did, the council would never class me as suitable for him!” “There are ways and means of getting what you want.” “What you want!!!” You shook your head, taking a few significant steps back, “I won’t become a pawn in some political manoeuvring for you-!” You shot an accusatory look to your father, “And YOU ought to know better.” “As if he would mind, you’ve known each other nearly your entire lives, you grew up together-” Your hand moved over the hilt of your sword – and half of you wished you were meeting them in amour and not something so casual. A mistake on your part. “Stop. Before you even think another word stop.” You gritted your teeth, “I will not be party to this. I will not allow you to solicit it to him. And both of you should be careful talking about this here! People have been executed for less.” Your mother placed her hand on your father’s shoulder; “You would threaten us, Y/N?” “If I must.” You turned your body defensively, “I’m leaving – and you should too. I will have the guards escort you from the castle.” Then, because you should, you bowed, “Good day.” You supposed what you were really most scared of happening was people finding out that you and the King weren’t just close friends anymore. You’d been interested in him your entire life; and your parents were right, you had grown up together. You knew about as much about Henry as it was possible to know – and a lot you wished you didn’t. A feeling you believed was probably mutual. People were coming in and out of your life constantly – in no small part due to battlefield deaths. And you were up here in the Castle now. You’d moved around with him for years before the idea of ‘King’ came to mind. And now here he was – but you also knew your place, and it was not as his wife. That thought alone was preposterous; and you would have thought his entire family to forbid it – and he’d been told as such, right around the time you possibly could have fallen in love. You’d both been much younger then. You scoffed, pulling your sword from its sheath as you reached the training ground – about the best way to let off steam right now – it wasn’t ever a fantasy you indulged in. One of those stupid early-20s conversations when Henry asked when the hell you’d give it up and get married – and you’d punch his arm and say ‘Marriage? Me? Really? I thought we knew each other!’ You planted your feet in a solid stance, balancing the blade correctly in your hands, you took a deep breath and cut through the air – before long you were moving in step and sparring with yourself. Your look probably couldn’t have read more angry. It wasn’t just that your parents had suggested it; it was how much you knew such a suggestion would play with your feelings, and they knew too. There was a moment once where you thought you were over him. And then again when you had to be over him. Maybe you’d just conditioned yourself – but there was no better conditioning than loving her too. Mary was his whole world, and she was a literal angel. If there was anyone in this world that could calm him down, and be a good influence, and stand by his side, and be suitable then it was her. You’d met your fair share of women who had wanted to be in her position – but they all had a major problem with you; she never had. Your presence in his life didn’t scare her – and in fact your love for him didn’t either, because she knew that alone would have you keep Henry safe. He was your best friend, and a lot of the time you felt your only friend; with time she became that too – but a couple of years ago Mary had passed away. And your King was now a single man. That had never factored into things for you; suddenly six children didn’t have a mother – and a fairly absent father. King first, father second. That sometimes left you, as King’s Guard, trailing around after 6 growing children. And where at first you’d found them shadowing your every step annoying, and your skills with kids awkward at best – now you loved them as if they were your own. The eldest boys were old enough to begin swordsmanship lessons too – and if you were honest with yourself those points in your week might just have been the ones you looked forward to the most. The problem was, her death had added a new element to your relationship with Henry – and you didn’t know what or whom had started it, yet you did know it was dangerous. An affair? With your King? In your position? The number of men you were surrounded by daily, constantly looking for just such ammunition to throw you to the streets – or worse, were insurmountable. Which almost made it exciting. But you weren’t so sure exactly what it was… he was hurting, and you were a comfort – you supposed. You got to live out your wildest fantasy as a (dangerous) dream come true. Still, you thought to yourself, rather you than anyone else – and constant female companionship kept those you would deem less worthy out of his bed. Before you even started on those trying to find him a suitable second wife. He wasn’t one for having it – and you wouldn’t trust to hope that it had anything to do with you; but that he simply could never marry again after her. Still, your face often said it all when people tried to present their daughters to him. And you were sure the way Henry and yourself glanced to each other sometimes did you no favours in getting in anyone’s good books. That wasn’t something you particularly cared about either. Truth was, you liked where you were, right now. You didn’t want to marry him, you didn’t want to be Queen (for a start a list of conspirators against you would be longer than your arm from the very second Henry slipped a ring onto your finger, if not before), you didn’t want children and you didn’t want to bare him children. If you could help it. That was always an outside possibility – probably about the only thing that that kept you out of his bed as often as you’d quite like to be there. That and knowing your duty came first – not only would pregnancy make what was happening fairly obvious, but it’d lose you your position as King’s Guard – and they’d have to take that from your dead body. The sound of your blade slicing through the air caught you a little off guard as your swings became vicious. Now you were just letting your emotion get the better of you, taking a deep breath you tried to reign it back in; but that only made things worse. Afterall – hadn’t you come here to vent a little? You turned into your next strike, power to your overhead cut. But you struck steel and not air. Henry’s arm didn’t buckle despite the way he was holding the training sword; although you could already tell the quality of yours had put a nick in it. “What did the air ever do to you-!?” You backed up, and inclined your head to him; he was still your King after all. “Nothing. There’s just a lot on my mind.” You kept your eyes to the floor for a moment, and sheathed your sword. “I see you dismissed your parents without so much as a welcome from me.” You raised your eyes to his curiosity, how did he even know they were here? Who had gone ahead and told him? “Yes. For good reason.” “Oh. What could that possibly be?” You folded your arms, confident enough to say it to Henry’s face, “They want to cook up some convoluted plot with the council, which ends with me marrying you.” Not one emotion crossed his features for a number of seconds before he blinked, and then laughed; “I’m sure the court would enjoy hearing such a proposal.” “Do not give them any excuse to come back here and attempt it!” He twisted the steel through his fingers, “Would that be my decision, I cannot stop them from coming to court – and if they would so propose such a thing,” You cut across him; “Very well, but I would like to attest I want no part in it.” “…It wouldn’t exactly be un-agreeable.” He finished. “Henry.” Your look was sharp, “I cannot marry you. This is ridiculous, I don’t know why I even mentioned it.” You covered your eyes for a moment and sighed “Forgive me. It’s just…” He shook his head, “I understand your sentiment. Although with my council perhaps you should speak softer.” But the King looked amused, “I believe you are due a meeting today, are you not?” “That’ll make everything better.” You fell in step with him as you exited the training field; “But yes. We are. I’m sure I’ll have much to report on.” “I’d trust yours over anyone else’s…” That made you roll your eyes, “Then I might ask why you have them around.” “You know very well I don’t have a choice in that.” Though you offered no comment, your smirk probably told him everything. “As long as your mind is sound, your Majesty.” He nudged you, which only made you laugh “My mind? You’re the one that needed to clear her head.” “Indeed. I should check in with the children at some point before the meeting also…” “Yes.” Henry nodded, turning to you again – his mouth opened, but you held your hand up; “Please, I know what you’re thinking. But I cannot be a mother to them – I will not replace Mary. I cannot replace her. It would feel too much like betrayal…” you subtly glanced about to check you were indeed alone as your voice lowered, “Whatever we have, it is not marriage material, and you should not opt to see it as such just because it might get the council off your back. This is me, Henry, they are not my biggest advocates. And besides I would rather your children didn’t hate me for it too-!” “So you will not even consider it.” “NO…” You backed away, prepared to run off to your next engagement, “And neither should you.” But he reached out and caught your wrist before you could, because he could read all over your face that your emotional attachment to the situation was causing your thoughts to run wild; “Then it will never transpire. You should not have to worry about such a thing. Or marriage in general. In truth, you know that I am still grieving her… If what you are really worried about is anyone discovering us, that’s foolish. We’re careful – and you more so than me. Everything will be as it is meant, Y/N. Now…” He let you go, “Please, I wish for you to enjoy the rest of you day – even with your meeting – and we shall discuss this later.” You bowed again; “Yes, your majesty, as soon as my duties for today are done, I shall return to you.” Henry smiled gently, turning away from you to walk in the opposite direction, “See that you do.” Then paused and called you back; “Oh, Y/N.” “Yes?” You immediately paused your jog to twist back to him. “There are a great number of country estates that I could move your parents to. I believe that would alleviate the situation. A barter, if you will. Put a stop to this before it begins. As you may imagine, I would not want this weighing on the mind of my King’s Guard any more than it should.” You nodded, “It… sounds agreeable.” “Then you will not mind me summoning them back?” “No.” “Very well. Then we need not talk of it any longer.” He nodded, and then continued on as if he had never turned back. You smiled shaking your head gently – sometimes he was quite unfathomable. “Thank you!” But Henry held his hand up with a wave – don’t mention it. ***

There was once a time, when he was a little younger, before marriage and children, and becoming a King, when even you allowed the thought of you and he becoming more than fantasy to linger around. Yet even after those things, when he actually spent time on a physical battlefield, rather than the political battlefield he now found himself on, it wasn’t a feeling easily shaken; maybe kicked to the side but never truly gone. The problem was the line between friends and almost/never lovers had always been blurred. Back when you were kids you didn’t know what you were feeling. He was your best friend, sometimes he was the brother you never had, sometimes all Henry was to you was your King – and you the one charged with protecting his life. Maybe he was all of them – but even being intimate with him now you never felt that it was meant to be. Quite the opposite, and yet it was somehow allowed to happen… But sometimes all you could think about was praying together before these battles; hands entwined in prayer in front of you, eyes closed, foreheads touching – whispering well recited Latin. in nomine patris et fili et spiritus sancti And the apparent scandal, or not scandal, of sharing his tent. That was really to make sure he slept – you were one for staying awake and listening to his breathing. Still were. But you didn’t really trust anyone – his life was more important to you than anything else. But you’d never really told Henry that, outside of making it sound like a duty-bound sentence. As far as sleeping with him went, the closest you thought you’d ever get was on the hard ground next to his makeshift camp bed. When his hand would dangle over the edge and you’d have to resist the temptation to reach out and hold it. When your light sleep was burdened with strange vivid dreams, and you were always anxious that you’d wake with his name on your lips. You could probably both brush that off – but the embarrassment of why would have always weighed on your mind.

But he knew. He must have. For Henry to even contemplate ruining what you had by making it more than it ever had to be. He was alone and hurting, and you had always loved him. You had a feeling he loved you too; perhaps not in the same way – perhaps he didn’t feel the desperate yearning you always did. The need to repress everything on something that would never work. But he did. Henry must have; that first kiss wasn’t an accident – and maybe you should have pushed him back and told him that it wasn’t proper and never would be. But you were weak, and you craved him and you were desperate to feel his lips on yours once. Just once! So you didn’t, and with his hands in your hair the words out of your mouth would never have been stop. Henry never used his position over you – but you knew that it wouldn’t even matter if he did.

“Bed me your majesty” was never a phrase that spilled from your lips, but you knew you felt it. You knew you stared at him sometimes and thought it – and you thought Henry probably knew that too, because sometimes all it took was the way you looked at him. Maybe you should whisper it to him, when you felt so fragile and you trembled under his fingertips. It was at least exciting to think of the way he’d react to it. Not another soul in this castle had ever seen you look so delicate as he now had, and that was something Henry liked to keep to himself with a little smirk. But, obviously, he’d be wrong to think that would be normal – you’d always been the very definition of strong woman. Better believe that extended to every facet of your life. Apparently, that was even more exciting.

The morning light wasn’t pale when you awoke. That already meant problems; usually you’d slip out of his room as soon as you could. Not for want of actually wanting to leave him, but needing to. Safety first. You were greeted by the brush of his lips to your forehead and without any walls up, you allowed yourself to smile. You didn’t want to say words yet, just lay together like this. Everything was calm this morning – the only sounds from outside, bird calls and dogs barking. And you almost allowed yourself to fall back to sleep – before what you knew would happen if you were found here panicked you, and you sat up. “Shit, I really should go.” He reached out for your wrist and you found yourself immediately dragged back into the sheets. Henry wound his arms around you, pressing kisses into your skin; shoulders, neck, down your arms and to your hands. You couldn’t help but giggle gently to yourself – but you also knew better. “No no…” You rolled over, lips to his, “I’ll be late for the pre-council meeting… And the servants will be along to bathe and dress you soon, I cannot be here!” His sigh was grumpy as he opened his crystal blue eyes; narrowing them against the harsh light – “Damn your meetings.” “Occasionally I would like to…” You breathed, kissing him again, before grazing your lips to his shoulder and stumbling from the bed, pulling on your breeches, boots and shirt – tightening the cord across your chest, and threading your sword belt around yourself. Doing your best to neaten your hair before pulling it back and off your face once more. “I will see you later, at your side, when we all assemble to hear from the Archbishop.” Henry groaned; “Again!?” “I’m afraid so!” You grinned, moving back around the bed to kiss his face once more – to which he chuckled. “Go. Leave me!” “I’m afraid I must, my King. Until later!” Although you didn’t miss his call of; “You look so beautiful when you’re flushed!” and you could have cursed him right then. By the time you reached the chambers in which the council gathered, they’d already started and you were red for two reasons. It earned many questions, that you could quickly dismiss. After all, you had run all the way here. And you were a swords master – what did they think you did all day, stand around in ceremony like they did? You had to practice if you were to defend him properly! That at least shut the majority of them up, leaving a few suspicious. It hardly mattered to you though; perhaps they knew, perhaps they’d guessed, you were the only female here and certainly the only one that Henry kept consistent companionship with… But you’d been around long enough to know everyone’s secrets – heck, their secrets had secrets. At least you only had one. Although it was a big one. Still you sat around in armour on occasion, and a sword constantly. So you’d like to see anyone try to say anything about it. They might just find the blade at your hip run through them. You were capable, and they already knew you liked to threaten… If they came for you you highly doubted they would be kept around, or even alive if Henry so happened to get word (he would, you’d make sure).

If you’d ever thought there would be something to worry about, you were there now. His children were grown up, and a few of them off and married themselves. Thomas was on the council, and damn good at it – you were always impressed by his level headed judgements. Hal… wasn’t, but had been. And he was off wherever he wanted to be – you hoped he was just being a young, reckless and rebellious teenager. Half of you wasn’t sure it’d wear off; it certainly didn’t stand him in his father’s good graces. Hal became Henry’s new favourite thing to grumble about. There were times that you’d dragged him back to the castle kicking and screaming just keep the King quiet. That didn’t earn you a whole lot of love – but Hal at least still respected you, and that helped you get between them and cool them both off when necessary. Henry’s health was waning – it had been for a while, and he’d been through just about every major illness you could get, but had survived. You wanted to be around him now to look after him, as much as you did anything else. That instinct made you a lot sharper, he didn’t have a lot of time to waste and there were plenty in the Kingdom who wanted to waste it. Standing beside him and giving them filthy looks, or scoffing, or rolling your eyes; sometimes just unable to keep harsh statements from coming off your lips. And you were sarcastic too, especially to the council. Truth was you’d had enough of the bullshit and deceit. The decent thing would be for them to stop manipulating Henry and his thought process; people thought he was out of his mind at the best of times, the council only served to make it worse and pretend that it was all your King’s doing. You saw right through all that in various stages of contempt. Thomas and yourself were walking the corridors of the castle after one such meeting and as the sweetest of Henry’s children (and perhaps the most apt), often chided you for the kind of comments that you made to unsuspecting subjects, or the council. (Though you were sure he might understand why you’d make them to the council.) “Oh, Y/N, why are you so cruel and mean and sarcastic all the time? It doesn’t make you friends!” You would only ever laugh though; “Thomas you’re so sweet-! And I don’t do it to make friends, I do it to protect your father, especially NOW!” “Well, I certainly worry about it!” “No need. I’ve been doing it a long time.” In fact only his entire life. “I’m not sure that excuses doing it worse. I’m concerned for your wellbeing.” You sighed softly and smiled; “Okay… If it makes you feel better, I will tone it down.” “Thank you. It would.” “…Only for you mind.” You raised your finger to let him know you were deadly serious about that. “Well. I’m sure others would also appreciate it.” But he beamed, and you thought that maybe for that alone, you could probably tone down your scoffing at everyone else’s ludicrous decisions on what to do next. Though, you were sure on occasion Henry and yourself would still catch each other’s eyes thinking exactly the same thing. Idiots-! So you couldn’t help but smile back at that; “I’m proud of you, you know? You’ve come so far in such a short space of time, you’re responsible, you’re not yet that old. You’ll go far Thomas; I hope you realise that... and I hope you’re proud of yourself.” He acted bashful for a second; “Oh it’s… nothing really. Not like you.” “Oh yeah?” You leant back slightly and folded your arms, “And what, pray tell, is the difference between you and I?” “You’re on the council… and you have seen and won many a battle. You’re… as close to my father as it’s possible to get.” You inclined your head; “My prowess on the battlefield is really the only reason I am here…” You touched the hilt of your sword, “I am only on the council because I am King’s Guard, I have very little input into everything, and…” you paused, knowing for fact that Henry had always been an arms-length sort of father, “…I’ve known your father since we were both very small. He trusts you as much as he does me – I know this to be true.” And you did, the King often talked of how proud he was of Thomas. You thought it was an all-around good sign, but how exactly you got him to show the affection that came with it, you weren’t sure yet. “Thank you…” He also paused for a second, before hugging you, it was a warm, tight hug. And considering the very nearly professional context of your attire, it caught you off guard. You stiffened for a minute, eyes wide, before returning his arms around you. You tried desperately hard not to be overcome with emotion, but you almost welled up; remembering vividly back to when the best Thomas could do was cling to your leg, begging you not to go to a meeting that he himself was now avidly involved with. He let you go, still smiling, “I bid you good day, Y/N.” “And you, Thomas.” As you would for his father, you bowed gently to the Prince and watched him take off down the corridor, smile still on your face. You only turned around when you heard the clearing of a throat behind you. Standing leaning against an entrance way to a higher corridor, was Henry himself. You had no doubt he’d probably heard that entire exchange. But you couldn’t help but smile at him too, and jogged up the set of steps to join him. “Are you waiting for me?” “I was watching the world go by, but I heard the two of you and decided I best collect you, after this morning’s escapades.” Henry gave you a hard look and you hoped he might be joking. “Thomas does a good job of chiding me himself, I don’t need it from you also.” “Ah, but I am the King. And therefore…” You leant against the other side of the doorframe with a scoff, indicating he wasn’t about to get away with saying such a thing. From here you could see through the high windows into the gardens below, and as Thomas crossed the grass several of the dogs chased around his feet. Henry watched your smile grow with a shake of his head; “He’s probably right. You should tone it down.” “Oh? Are you only saying that now because you’re older and wiser? Because there was a time when you used to not only agree with me, Sire, but laugh along.” “Yes, well. Older – perhaps wiser. But I feel that I should probably mention it.” “Save your words, I’ve been like this for years – Best believe I wouldn’t stop now. Force of habit.” “Well if you’re around, and I no longer am, you may well have to change.” “I believe my reactions save you from endless boredom. And, hush - don’t say things like that… How am I supposed to live my life without you!?” It was something you considered, obviously, but never ever wanted mentioned. “I rather think you’ll manage quite well… They depend on you, Y/N. They may not say it but they do.” “Whom? Your council? Your sons?” “The Kingdom.” “Oh.” You hesitated, with a blush, “I… see.” Although currently you weren’t sure how much the Kingdom would really be thanking you for that – considering their views on their King. Afterall, it was not just your job to defend him – you would lay down your life for Henry no matter who he was. He leant across the about foot gap between you and held your chin between his fingers before brushing his lips to yours. You blinked a couple of times; “That was… unprofessional. Especially out here!” “Don’t you ever get tired of worrying?” “No. Especially not now they’re so grown up.” Still, you stole a second kiss before he pulled away. He looked back to the castle grounds; “Thought that would make it more exciting.” “Well, if I would be so bold as to suggest something to entice you away from your duties today, my King.” Henry turned to you, eyebrow raised – but his smile turned into a gentle smirk, and instead of asking what you meant he simply said; “Entice me.” You smirked, a little more seductive, as you claimed that gap back, face so close to his you could feel his breath, and body almost touching his you could hear his heartbeat. Your eyes flicked slowly from his lips to his eyes and back. And for once you decided to brave the sentence you’d been dying to say for a long time. “Bed me, your majesty.”

---

Thank you for reading!! 💙🙏💜

#Halseyyyy once again!#The King (2019)#Henry IV x Reader #Ugh that's a weird tag to write #I mean he did /have/ illigitimate children so it's not like this kinda thing /couldn't/ have happened #161 #Thea #another favourite OC of mine #Couples that slay together stay together #I think I prefer them platonic to romantic (as envisioned)#but I do like this one #What is with all the minimal editing?#I just kinda added description here and there but...#I dunno everything is kinda going along nicely #I like that #The King

17 notes · View notes