#like 'everything must change but none of us here will see the promised land' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

its-actually-minicika · 1 year

Text

Letters Perished in Dried Ink (18+)

Pairing: Aemond x Reader;

Warnings: vivid descriptions of male masurbation, slight angst, a lot of lousy grandpas who have and will continue to butt into your situationship with Aemond;

Word Count: 6.5k;

Author's Note: I struggled with major writer's block this month. I suppose it happens to the best of us :") While I'm still working on the three fics I promised you guys, have this tiny one-shot to make up for the lack of updates ♡

I tried to be poetic. Alas, I miserably failed. See you in the next update (which is going to hopefully present much better)!

How could a misunderstanding ruin everything seven years of love has built?

Her steady hand reached for the quill, and the girl settled her feather over the small and modest piece of paper. For two, mayhaps three seconds she paused, thinking well on what she would like most adherently to convey.

Her eyes glossed over with the swirl of mischief, and the Lady smiled to herself, while expelling a tantalising and brisk breath.

To my dearest, Aemond

While I was afraid that my time in King’s Landing would change the perception I had of my homeland, I must admit that I was wrong. I might push as far as to say that everything remains the same; not a change since I last saw it. My chamber, with the dolls I left on the goose-stuffed pillows, the training grounds – none the grander as the ones in the Red Keep, mind you –, and the large halls of Riverrun… all seemingly frozen in place.

Albeit the doors feel smaller now, and I can reach without the help of a stool where I once could not, I find that I am underwhelmed, and dangerously melancholic over the time I spent in your company, which accounted for so much of my early girlhood.

Grandfather has taken to my return quite well. He is still bedridden, but somehow more vivacious that his blood is nearer yet.

I look at the portraits that adorn the walls of our darkened castle, and sometimes think back to my elder brothers. I think grandfather does so, as well.

But such terrible quarrels have no place in my dull writings! This new life isn’t as tedious as I make it out to be. I was acquainted with my Septa, though much of my education will be taken care of by grandsire now. Yesterday I walked the grounds for hours on end, and managed to spot some old and familiar faces. I had forgotten how kind the riverlords can be.

One thing that must be noted – and recognised as quite peculiar – is how quiet it is here. Naturally, there is no active Court to gossip and flaunt back their wealth and actions.

You would like it here.

And I’ll say this much: I’d like it better if you were here, too.

I end my musings with burning questions, that you simply must answer in your next correspondence:

First and foremost, how have you been? Secondly, how are our good Queen and King? Word reached the Trident that your father’s fallen sick, and so I pray piously without stray that he recovers well and quickly. Thirdly, how is sweet Helaena fairing? Last I heard of her, the babe was close to being born.

I readily await for your reply, and urge you to make haste with it!

Until then I remain, as always,

Your inquisitive and loyal friend

His eye trails over the slight curve of her writing. And the Prince catches himself smiling, humming in admission at her carefully picked-out words.

He notices, with great perplexion, that despite his hardest efforts of stifling such impropriety, the ache inside his chest arouses. His heartbeat hammers out of him, granting a slight tremor in his lax and calloused hand.

And he stands this way, hovering over the pristine parchment, whilst bringing his hand out to pinch the bridge of his nose – rub his throbbing blinder with the back end of his hand. His broad chest heaves with every laboured exhale, and Aemond sighs with proper longing.

To my good friend,

I hope this letter finds you in good health, and in higher spirits than the day you wrote to me. It is very unlike you to barely fill a page. I expect your next communication to hold greater details of your life in the Riverlands.

King’s Landing is the same as you remember. Smells like shit and feels like shit, especially now, as I'm denied from the raptures of your company.

My routine too, remains identical. I am seated next to Aegon when we break fast as of late, and I must stress how greatly I preferred my view beforehand.

I report with great sorrow that hardly any intelligent conversation has been had since your swift departure. I'm left longing at the dinner table, for your calculated thoughts, for your sweet melodic voice, and for our elbows to be lightly touching.

Mother is overwhelmed with higher duties of the Court. I try to help her as best I can, with whatever tasks she may yet entrust me with. I lack the patience to sit idly, and so I’ve taken to Aegon’s share of duties. I fulfil them better than he ever could, and the exercise proves itself useful: for I scarcely find the time to think of you throughout the day.

The nights and morrows are harder yet, as my thoughts reach out to you, wondering helplessly how you spend your better days, so painfully far from me.

A dozen maesters tend to Viserys, each saying he will get better as time has its murky say. Yet ‘til that “eventual better” makes itself known to us all, he nurses his body with milk of the poppy, and lets mother do all his work.

Helaena is well. She dreamt the babe would be a boy, and already settled on a name for him. She wishes to call him Maelor, something that hasn’t been rebuked by Aegon.

She misses you greatly. As do I.

As does Vhagar.

The Red Keep feels empty without your fits of laughter.

Beckon your reply quickly.

Your most dutiful servant,

Aemond

A little over a week had passed since his Lady’s last reply. One week and four full days, to be exact... though Aemond would never own up to counting.

His sour mood grew to exceed all expectations, and the Prince bit his tongue through most of dinner, barely uttering a single word. His quiet nature wasn’t something to be troubled of, but even his drunk-out-of-his-mind brother noticed something had been irking him.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so brooding, brother.” Aegon voiced out his concern, after another hefty gulp of alcohol. An impish grin spread across his puffy face, and Viserys’ first-born son leaned over in his chair to soothe him. “Am I right to assume that this has something to do with the lack of reply from a certain lady of the Riverlands?”

A low growl etched from deep within the youth’s throat. Aemond regarded Aegon with a cutting look, and extended his arm forward to grip the base of the wine pouch. He took a moment to ponder on the gaucherie of getting drunk, but settled on thrusting himself to the momentary relief that a hazy mind could offer.

Briskly, he took a swing of the burning liquor, and disregarded the way in which his mother absent-mindedly glared at him.

A loud snicker echoed through the quiet room, and Aegon clasped his hands together, pouting acutely at his brother's actions. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

A knot of heartfelt disregard tightened in Aemond’s throat, and his fist clenched painfully right above the wooden table. His free hand gripped the handle of the knife with a knowledge untoward, and the Prince shared a look with his elder brother, while rotating the blade about.

“Careful, Aegon. There are plenty of sharp objects around this table. And you haven’t been spotted in the training yard for quite some time."

His purple eyes widened to rounded specs of unreliant fear. Still he put on a lazy smile, and merely shrugged his shoulders. Aegon’s mouth opened again, threatening to spew out words that would grant no happy ending to their cosy dinnertime.

Eventually, it was Alicent’s glacial tone that interrupted their clash of wits.

“Boys,” She warned them both, not even bothering to look at them, “That is enough.”

Aegon’s mouth slouched childishly, and the man scoffed in rebuttal, while pointing at his rowdy sibling. “I was merely expressing my concern for Aemond, mother. He’s been very affected, now that his lady love abandoned him.”

Immediately Aemond rebuked his cutlery, and in the span of a single second, the Prince latched onto his berating brother. A dangerous look drew across his Targaryen features, making them all the sharper and unforgiving. Woefully he gripped his collar, hoisting him off the ground with an unnatural and vexing ease, and settled on squeezing Aegon’s gorget as he muttered to him darkly. “Either keep quiet on your own accord, or I’ll gladly silence you.”

Four white cloaks swarmed around them, and Otto Hightower nearly screamed, but the brawl reached an early end as the elder nodded rapidly at Aemond, and the latter loosened the hold he had over his bouchered vest.

“Seven Hells…” Aegon had cursed, mumbling lowly whilst feeling his neck for any sores, “Didn’t know it was such a delicate subject.”

Throwing a jaded look around the table, the One-Eyed Prince clenched his jaw.

He frowned deeply, and let out a tired hum at the notion of his sister’s face, so shocked and confused by his sudden outburst. As he felt his own grow numb, no doubt reddened by the scene he’d single-handedly played out, Aemond’s lips pursed to a tight, embarrassed line.

Whilst his hands itched him in shame, and his eye desperately avoided his mother’s, the young man instead focused on the erotic tapestries that adorned the stone-hedged walls.

His lone orb remained fixated on their arched positions, but, as his brother laughed again, Aemond begrudgingly returned his stare.

“Pardon me.” He muttered coldly, whilst giving a slight bow to the silent gathering, and, with one elegant but hurried movement, grabbed the full cask of wine, as he turned tautly to retreat to his chambers.

He swallowed thickly at his swift undoing, and chastised himself for losing touch with what was proper and allowed. His long fingers clasped painfully behind his back, digging at the flesh of his calloused palms, making him click his tongue in disarray; he notices, mayhaps too late, that all his blood had run elsewhere – thus the man takes wider steps to reach the confinements of his room, and lets out a choked-out breath, as the clogged air of his chamber finally hits his nose.

Methodical, aware and present, he sets the wine aside from him, pouring himself a generous cup, and fiddles with the expensive sheets that lay across his wooden table. His hand stumbles over the ink bottle, and the Prince levels out his rapid breathing, preparing himself to write again.

To My Lady,

A gulp of the liquid courage is all he needs to decidedly settle his red feather over the wilted paper.

Your lack of response to my latest confession irks me to no bitter end. I am a patient man, but I will not be denied entrance to your life. I will not have you refuse me the candour of communication.

Not when I spent my entire life waiting submissively by your side.

If your perpetual silence is owed to something I said, or something you’ve heard about me, I demand that you scorn me for it. Write a lengthy paragraph of all my near and far shortcomings, as you so often did when we were children. I promise to make a praying altar of that letter, grovel over it and at your feet, until my indiscretion should be forgiven.

Do not attempt to drive me away with petty ignoring. Such a feat is beneath you.

Another gulp of bitter wine is what allows his hand to flow more freely.

I confess that days and nights I have spent laying restlessly in bed, praying to the Seven to grant me passage to a single thought of yours. I ached to hear your words and feel your voice touch me so deeply. I am afraid I became brazen and unkind in the tortures of your absence.

I lest conclude that this should be a leisure letter to write – words should come easily, and in short, it should be simple for me to tell you how desperately happy I was to open your communication, and see your sweet and narrow writing.

Aemond halts his hurried musings, and encouraged by the hotness of the room, thinks back on the sinful indulgence he’d committed with her letter.

How he kissed over the parchment a million times thereafter, and how he licked at its bent corners, shuddering at the thought that her hand had ghosted over – perhaps even rested on – the marginal and flimsy paper.

He abjures his thoughts to the back of his mind, and lets out a low curse at the throb that forms over his missing eye.

A Prince should never bow, nor beg, nor relent. Yet here I stand, forever obediently at your beck and call, begging you to write again.

His patch fell heavily upon his skin. The nerves of his face stung the stimulated bit of skin, and Aemond huffed out an exacerbated breath, as he decidedly yanked the blinder away from his handsome face.

My duties at Court make it such that it is impossible for me to leave the proximities of King’s Landing. But should you make the mistake of not replying to me again, I’ll have no choice but to mount Vhagar and fly over to you myself.

… So reign your anger on me, should you need to. And just grant me with a quick reply.

Aemond.

Not even bothering to read it over, the man reached for the stamp she gifted him, inspecting its sapphire hilt with a scorned look over his face, and an angry furrow to his brow. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, as he passively set the hilt aside.

His next movements were slow, methodical – Aemond folded the paper in half, and poured the hot wax over it; grabbing the stamp, and lowering it on the paper, allowing the Targaryen seal to leave its mundane mark behind.

Harsh thoughts swirled inside his head, and the Prince lowered the parchment, promising to send word out on the morrow, and personally deliver his Lady the much-improved, insistent letter.

‘The best of friends for seven years,’ he scoffed bitterly to himself, recalling the oath they’d made each other.

He wouldn’t allow her to walk away. He wouldn’t allow her to forget about him. And he would force her to look at him, and explain the means of her reaping silence.

The gentle rays of morning wash themselves over his handsome features. The heatwaves of summer lick over his translucent skin, and the golden rays of daybreak thread themselves into his silver hair.

Aemond groaned in roaring anguish, as he ran a calloused hand up and over his throbbing cheek.

The discarded eyepatch, now resting on the floor. The littered parchments, still laying on his table. The lone letter, which had been written so angrily, just to be resentfully abandoned as his ire simmered down the night before.

Each object served as a dull and pained reminder of his lack of princely conduct, of the effects of the wine… of her brazen and determined silence.

The Prince bit over his lower lip, and fluttered his eyelid tightly shut. Enwrapped in his fine silks, and under the comforts of his chambers, he allowed his mind to lead to her again. To the image of her sprawled-out form, waiting for him inside his bed.

He sighs deeply, and questions his sanity – or lack thereof –, his patience, his virtue. What he wrote in his confessions was the fair and honest truth – In the few moments of solitude that he grantedly took for himself, the riverlander scarcely ever left his thoughts.

Aemond writhed into the mattress, and peeled the cover away from his heated body. He needn’t have looked down upon him to see the quaint trailing effect that his friend had had on him; but he did, and in the process, hastily pulled his throbbing cock out of his breeches, to begin to pump himself – mayhaps relieve the stress and anger that ruled over his very being.

A tender hiss escaped his lips, as his movements sped up in pace. The Crown Prince bit over his lower lip, and a shaky hand came to rest over his parted mouth, to dull the shameful and alluding sounds that escaped his burning throat.

He ran his thumb over the leaking tip, gathering up his seed in singular and striking swipes, guiding the clear droplets of liquid to trail towards his aching stones, and coat over his impressive length.

A low grunt slipped past his hand, and Aemond sank his teeth into the tender flesh, stifling down any further moan or laboured breath.

"F-Fuck… my Lady…"

His back shuddered from the blinding pleasure, and his free hand came to rummage under his pillows in the most desperate of searches.

His eye opened but for a moment, as his digits grazed the bent edges of the first letter she'd addressed him – the one he'd cherished with ample reverence, and secretly carried with him to every place he went.

His lilac orb trailed over the contents of the wilting parchment, which by then he knew by heart, but stopped at the very beginning of her scattered and bereft writing.

'To my dearest, Aemond' – either by crude mistake or heinous design, she'd flicked her wrist right after dearest, drawing out a bold and elongated pause, that hence consumed his wakened days.

It must have taken her no more than seconds to descend her quill upon the page, yet for Aemond, the mundane piece of calligraphy became his most burdensome slither of hope.

Before he could catch himself in his lustful daze, the Prince brought the letter to his lips, and kissed over the dried ink with devotion untoward, accelerating his ministrations as he pressed into it harder.

He pictured her alone and writing, enraptured by the dead of night, dressed up in her modest nightdress, and her hair loose from her bun. She must have made some able pauses, to glance up at the moon, perhaps, or sigh in puckered concentration.

Had she shared with him everything that was on her mind back then? Or did she hold her secrets in, choosing instead to only hint at all that they had left unspoken?

Did she also think of him, as he nightly thought of her, and in her attempts to clear her head, brought her hand out to her ruddy pearl? And did she dare to rub it gently as sinful fantasies of him emerged?

Did he plague her every thought – visited them, at the very least, nestling inside her mind, as she so oftenly did to him?

His unanswered plethora of questions only fed into his fire. His hips began to move languidly against his hand, and the familiar licks of release beckoned in his tired loins. But fucking his hand would never come close to how he envisioned fucking her would be like. How tight and welcoming her cunt must be, how she herself was so untouched, so pure, unaware of the pleasures he alone could make her go through.

How breathlessly she’d gasp against him, and leave her lascivious mark over his skin, in the form of clawed-out patterns, adorning his pale and muscled back. He would return her favour in kind, pressing himself deeper inside her, molding her warmth to the shape of his cock, leaving bruising kisses over her breasts and neck and claiming her – over and over, again and again.

His. His, his, his and his alone.

Propriety be damned, he’d have her. Ensure she’d never leave his bed thereafter.

She’d make for a fantastic mother, he caught himself thinking with abhorrence, and a new heat wave of pleasure enveloped his arched, unyielding back.

His despair reached new peaks of torture, as his mind led him to the memory of her crouching form, playing with Helaena’s twins, with such a pliant and kind smile upon her agonizing lips. How she’d chase them through the royal gardens, how the sun would catch her hair aflame…

Often during the long nights of winter, he’d shut himself inside his chambers, and touch himself repeatedly with the oils gifted from Aegon – with only that specific recollection playing tricks inside his mind.

Whilst elating her as his wife inside his head, the man slumped further into the bed, focusing on working his shaft up and down in blinding delight.

Her voice, her laughter, her handwriting and eyes – so wide and curious and always ready to look upon him, to really see him for who he was. She’d been the only one who never glanced directly at his scar. She’d focus in on his remaining eye, and listen to what he had to say. Intently. Remarkably so. She would remember his favourite book, the passages he’d read her last, and would partake in conversation – urging him to share his thoughts.

His climax neared him closer still, and Viserys’s second son focused on fucking his fist at a wilder pace than done before. Droplets of precum rolled down his cock, as forming sweat coated his brow. A final swipe of his rough thumb over the tip of his manhood, and a tender caress of his tightened stones was all it took for the man to drive himself over the edge, and feel the warmth inside his chest spread across his lower body.

He hissed painfully into the open letter, spending all over his chest and stomach and spilling her name from his parted lips.

He heaved out one breath after the other, and gingerly ran his hand over the written testament of her thoughts. He wanted to curse the Gods for making him so, for giving him the thirst for knowledge of a man fitting his station, but the crass bashfulness of a ruddy stable boy.

For the first time in his life, Aemond wished he were born different. A softer and more patient man, who’d find himself worthy of her; one more handsome, courageous and outspoken – a man who could express his feelings, without so much as a second thought, who didn't allow hesitation and carelessness to break his strengthened up resolve.

He ached to tell her all the things he’d left unsaid, when he saw her leave his sight. That she was lovely and brave and better than anything he deserved. That he was twisted, crooked, wrong – but not so wrong that he couldn’t pull himself together into some semblance of a man for her. That without exactly meaning to, he’d begun to lean on her, to look for her, to need her near.

That love within him laced with doubt. Longing with predestined pain. That he prayed night after night, obsessively, tentatively, that she’d grant him passage into her life again – that whatever held her from speaking to him would absolve itself with time, and he’d finally be free again.

Free to love her from afar, to revel in the bottled hope she’d grant him with the lightest touch, the faintest smile, and the most mundane of glances.

To delve further into the sweet delusion that mayhaps she'd learn to love him. That somehow he’d be deemed to be enough.

As he stood there, unmoving in his very bed, his warm seed rolled off his stomach, staining onto the silken sheets. A long sigh escaped his lips, and Aemond propped himself onto his elbow, cleaning the mess he’d left behind.

His want for her ran hard and deep, and the Crown Prince tensed once more, feeling his stomach tighten in such familiar hot knots of pleasure, that his cock went stiff again. He hummed in admission of his solitary fate and reached for the sinful oils with a shaky and extended hand. Through the musings of a quiet moan, he aligned his hips to his waiting hand, preparing to grant himself the second peak of his cursed and debauchered morning.

Alas, a lacklustre knock put an end to his self-indulgence, and Aemond stifled back a groan. He swallowed up his lust with haste, pushing himself back into his linen breeches and off the ruined satin bed – running a hand through the forming mats of his silver hair, to make himself seem more presentable.

Frustration and madness welled up within him, but he merely sucked in an irritated breath, whilst grabbing forth a shirt to adequately front himself.

“Yes, what is it?” His shaky voice barks out for him. He listens intently for any noise outside his door, and a great displeasure settles in his gut, as the voice of a servant boy echoes through the quiet walls.

“A letter for you, Your Grace. I beg your pardon for disrupting you –”

Readily he jumps out of his bed. And as if burned, as if possessed, Aemond opens the door with a readiness unperturbed, descending his anger onto the poor, expecting boy. The letter rests upon a silver platter, shaken with the messenger’s panicked voice. The Tully emblem that seals over a vast calligraphy drives the Prince to the brink of hysteria, and the Targaryen grabs a hold of the boy’s bouched shirt, pushing him further down into the hall.

“When.” He questions breathlessly, “When did the letter arrive.”

“L-Last night, Your Grace – near the hour of the wolf –”

A feral scowl settles over his sharp features. Aemond takes a step forward, tightening his fist over the cheap material, and calmly professes to the whimpering boy.

“For waiting so long to bring it to me, I should have you flogged and executed.”

The child's blabbering reaches deafened ears, as Aemond reaches for the letter crassly presented to him, and offers the youth a pressing look.

“Get out of my sight, before I should make the call of feeding you to my dragon.”

A clumsy courtesy is followed by a tantalised “Your Grace”. The echo of footsteps gets lost through the depths of the narrow hallway, and the man hums absentmindedly, before shutting himself inside his room again.

He wants to rip the envelope in a violent and perusing fashion, but his first instinct is to trail over the paper gently, to run his digits where her hands had been, to touch the edges of her writings with such a desire to be close to her that it scared him.

In a slow and gentle act, he peeled her seal away from the pesky parchment, and sucked in a hectic breath, as he scanned the contents he’d so longly dreamt about.

His hope shattered as rapidly as it came. And Aemond nearly ripped the letter, as his heart clenched painfully inside his chest.

To Aemond,

I thought about what I might say, and word it out in such a way that won’t leave you perplexed or angered.

I think it’s best for us to move along, and stop with these childish musings, that have hence occupied our time since I moved from the Red Keep.

I will forever cherish our acquaintanceship and hold your friendship in the highest regard. But I am a woman grown now – you, a man in all his right –, and we must both start to think about the survival of our families.

Please do not send me any more letters, as I won’t reply to them, and focus instead on your best interests.

The Lady Tully of Riverrun

His feet carried him close to his bed, as he grabbed a hold of her first note. Desperately, he began searching for differences – in the means that it was written, in the handwriting he’s known since his early adolescence, in the marginal and flimsy paper.

The sting of rejection fell heavily over his shoulders, but rationale trumped his crushed spirits – for there must have been something, anything inside the new communication, that would explain its fabrication.

It was impossible those were her words. She’d never been a jousting woman – never regarded her tens of suitors as less than wanting, for the simple fact she didn’t desire them. She would have let him down more softly. She wouldn’t throw away his company.

Contentment can emerge in the quietness of separation, but their friendship endured years of scorn from the gossips of the Court. Her good opinion of him just couldn’t have changed so suddenly.

A final reach entered his mind, as he folded the paper roughly, and settled it atop his table.

If those were truly her words within that letter, and she wanted him to keep his distance, she’d have to tell him to his face.

More than a week had passed since she’d sent him her first letter. A week since she’d awaited his reply, inquiring every messenger within the castle on the arrival of a straying raven, all the way from the Red Keep.

In spite of her avid efforts, each day repeated the same encounter without so much of a hitch – the scrawny boys shaking their heads, as they ceaselessly informed her that nothing addressed to her has reached the tower of the West Wing.

Since then she’d sent out two more hurried manuscripts, despite never once being graced with a reply. All hope seemed lost when she’d woken up that very day and was still met with livid silence.

Through all their years of rapid friendship, Aemond had never ignored her so. As she cut into her plate, the Lady gnawed at her bottom lip, thinking hard on what possibly could have happened to make him turn so cold towards her.

If her status quo were any different, she’d have taken the Red Fork road on horseback, to reach King’s Landing, and confront her oldest friend on the reasons for his dreaded silence.

But her grandsire had fallen ill, and little to no progress was made on his state of brittle health. Her duty thus assigned her to the Riverlands, despite her need of seeing him.

“You have been very quiet, sweet girl.” The husky voice of Grover Tully echoed through the silent chamber. The girl’s cutlery stilled upon the half-full plate, and her eyes raised from her lap, clashing with the stilling blueness, the knowing assessment of his own.

“Apologies, grandfather,” She uttered rapidly with a forced smile upon her face, “My mind was otherwise engaged.”

“As it has been for the past week.” He concluded with a quirked-up brow. The softness in his gaze enveloped her, giving her a rapid sense of security, and her grandfather coughed in the back of his hand, drawing a pattern over the motifs of their tablecloth.

“I suppose I miss some aspects of King’s Landing. I have spent most of my youth there… – though the Riverlands are just as beautiful.” She was quick to intervene.

“Is King’s Landing all that you miss, or is it a certain boy from there?”

Her bright orbs widened with her grandfather’s suggestive tone, and her cheeks reddened in place, as her voice denied it brashly, “Certainly not, I – Aemond and I are friends.”

“It might seem like a long while has passed since then, but I’ve also been young once.”

When her reply was met with sarcasm, she swallowed thickly and drove on, “We are… really good friends, but that is all.” Once again, her stare dissolved, “Though… I’m not sure we’re exactly friends anymore.”

A knowing look adorned his face, and Grover turned his attention to the family crest above their heads. He took a while to pounder, thinking longly on a vast reply, but he eventually nodded to her, and graced the child with an unperturbed, brilliant smile. “I’m sure the Prince is very busy – as are you, my sweet child. Men, and young men especially…” He muttered the latter of his teachings, “Aren’t exactly prone to sentimentality. Not in the way that women are.”

Her lips pursed into a tight line, as his words rang in her ears.

But not Aemond, she wanted to say. He was hardly like the other men she knew – he could be kind and good and comforting. He cared for her, and for their friendship. He wouldn’t just ignore her, just for the sake of not being overly attached to writing.

Although she couldn’t possibly say such a thing – for then her grandsire’s teasing would have been a certain. The girl made herself busy cutting up a piece of meat in carefully drawn-out halves, until she beckoned a reply.

“Indeed. … You’re right, I should stop being so concerned.” She strained herself to answer him. The older man hummed disconcerted, and returned upon his plating. They continued eating in silence, till he mauled himself to tell her.

“... I know how hard this is for you. But our family depends on you. I had to bring you back to Riverrun, to get the other Lords used to the image of a woman in our ancestral seat.”

“Gods, of course, grandfather – and for that, I’m more than thankful.”

Grover raised a shaky hand, and cut her off with a gentle smile, “You do understand… as much as we both hate the idea, I’ll have to soon match you with someone.”

She gripped the goblet of wine before her, and wet her lips with the bitter liquor. “... Of course I do. It is my duty.”

“Your claim will be stronger with an able man around. And if the Gods are good and you also bear a son…”

“I know.” She sighed into the ample cup, “My claim would be thus undisputed.”

“Aemond was not the right match for you.”

The girl bit over her lower lip, wanting to both negate her feelings, and contest upon his honoured values. But she simply nodded to the greying Lord before her and offered a lacklustre smile.

“Perhaps a change of scenery will do you good. I was thinking that you might like the Reach better than the Riverlands... Lyonel Tyrell is an especially kind and thoughtful host.”

A relocation was the last thing on her mind, no doubt, but the Bliss of Riverrun turned her attention to the latter of his eversion.

“Visit the Reach? You think of marrying me off to the boy of Highgarden? … He’s not yet fourteen.”

Silence washed over their council.

“Boys grow swiftly into men. I'm assured he'll be a good one for you."

“He’s a child.”

“You’re seventeen.”

“It still makes for quite the difference.”

“You won’t have to mother children until he’ll also come of age. It gives you three more years of freedom – other ladies would kill for a faction of what you have.”

“I don’t like the finality of your words."

A long and pressing breath beleft his pale and tired lips.

“I couldn’t send you to the North. Jason Lannister has no sons. The Greyjoys are ghastly savages.” As he presented her his trail of thought, Grover Tully shook his head, “And the Targaryens…”

“You’re childhood friends with King Viserys. A match would not befall our rank." She slipped and added restlessly, much like a frail and foolish child. Even before he could answer her, his granddaughter raised her hand, as she brushed off her latter thought. “A succession crisis will ensue.” The young woman muttered in his stead.

“I’m old – I’ve seen disputes start from less. But here we’re talking of the Iron Throne.”

“You think a war is in its midst.”

A cutting silence washed over them. Grover lifted first from the dinner table and breathed in an anxious breath.

“I pray for the sake of the Realm that such a thing will not take root.”

The languid fires of their threshold illuminated her conflicted face.

“Then it’s a good thing Aemond didn't bother to reply to my letters.”

For but a second, Grover’s face was etched with guilt.

“We all have to protect our own.” Sometimes the means in which we do it are less honourable than we'd wish to.

For all that was worth on that rousy and portentous night, her fate had been agreed upon. And ever the loyal and oppressed servant, the young lady of the Riverlands left with the first callings of dawn, for the impetuous and striking gardens, which were kept inside the Reach.

She would then leave, with her soul and heart all torn to pieces – yet still completely unaware that she’d never see Aemond again.

Never, at the very least, to how she’d known him to have been.

His wide and calculated steps led him to the stronghold’s gates. So easily it came for him to pass the cluttered training grounds, and disregard Ser Criston Cole with a mere shake of his head.

Above all else, he thought it then, he needed to feel his love again. He needed to hold her near once more, and ask all the outlandish questions he endured inside his head, counting for so much of his weakened days. He needed to reach a resolution, after being disregarded for so long. He needed the closure that her voice could offer him, that her mouth would utter out – that this had all been a grave mistake on her behalf, that the note never belonged to her, that she loved him as he loved her, and had merely been scared of it.

His morning session could very well await him, as he so viciously awaited the perfect chance to get away.

Two days away from the arrival of the pesky letter, Aemond had finally managed to slither unperturbed from his neat and tidy prison. Neither his mother nor grandsire had caught him in the act of it, Aegon had been too drunk to notice him dress up for a morning ride, and Helaena had solely clicked her tongue and scowled at him.

As he anxiously secured the belts of his dragon’s saddle, the man hummed in disarray – Riverrun was but a short flight away, but the despair he felt to hold her inside his arms again trumped over his better senses.

With any luck, he figured, she should still be found in bed. His love had never been an early riser, and she loathed getting out of bed in the damning morning light.

He didn’t waste time figuring out pleasantries to share with Grover – much less the words needed to explain his unprompted visit.

His sole purpose was to get to her, ask for her hand, make her his wife and forever be done with it.

He had the biggest claim to her – a Prince bonded with the largest dragon in the world, the one who’d seen and grown with her so many years inside the Keep.

The command of flying was given to his formidable dragon, and the Prince took off for the Trident's three heads.

Hopefulness emerged with unforsaked determination – but as his actions would dictate him from then on out, his efforts would be all for nought, torn apart in stinging vain.

Perma Tag-List: @welcometothelioncage

Specific Tag-List for the Fic: @howyouloveyourdragon @diamantesprincess @carriellie

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond imagine #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon aemond #prince aemond #aemond one eye #hotd aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond the kinslayer #hotd aemond #yandere aemond

812 notes · View notes

amphitritesmuse · 2 years

Photo

Request by: @omgsuperstarg

Original Request: if there only could be a one shot for this + me desperately wanting to write it lol

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 766

Warnings: None

A/N: I changed this scene up a bit and I am not 100% sure I wrote it well but I hope you enjoy this one-shot, hun. Let me know what you think of it xoxo

______________________________________________________________

It seemed that political unrest kept descending upon Wakanda. It began when my brother, T’Challa, left for the Ancestral Plains to join aabba. Now, a certain fish God had taken the reins to our newfound threats. I look to my Mother as she had cast her gaze to the sea. Her isicola crown shimmered under the sunlight and her long white robe spread down to her feet where the hems touched the sand.

“Mother,” I whisper, placing my hand on her shoulder. “I do not think he intends to keep his promise. He may never show.”

Mother turned, her lips formed into a frown. “I cannot just leave, child. This innocent girl is found in the midst of diplomatic turmoil, only used as a mere pawn for political gain. Unfairly and unjustly. We must wait.”

I nod and turn my gaze towards the crashing sea waves of cerulean blue and turquoise. I could feel the hot sand beneath my feet and when the wind blew against my thin garnet-red robe, I shivered.

“He is here,” Mother announced.

I drew in the salty air, then exhaled sharply as we watched the strong, tall man emerging from the sea waters. As he slowly strode towards us, I stiffen my back at the sight of him. Under the dazzling sun, the bronze of his skin almost seemed to shine against his usekh collar and the rest of his golden accessories. His eyes, like pools of obsidian, bore a hard expression as he looked at me. At once my ire rose, though, Namor did not seemed to be troubled by my angered demeanour as he swept his gaze over my body and studied the way I filled out the robe. I looked away, uncomfortably as my mother inched closer to him, the hems of her dress dancing around her feet as she did so.

“Pray, tell, is the girl alright?” Mother inquires, impatiently. “Is she unharmed?”

Namor nodded. “The scientist is alive and well. She requested to be taken to Talocan in place of your daughter and she will remain there for the time being.”

I let out a dry laugh at the God’s words. He turns and regards me with curiosity. “Did I say something that amuses you, Princess?”

“Your mouth spews such venomous lies, sub-mariner.” I spat, glaring at him. “My sister would have never agreed to let such a thing happen.”

“(Y/N),” my Mother reprimanded.

A smug look played upon Namor’s lips and he walked over to where I stood as if trying to demand my attention before he spoke.“I utter no lies when it comes to the safety of my people. You, surface-dwellers, scatter your poison recklessly with no regard as to what occurs to the lives you destroy. As I stated the scientist will remain in Talocan.”

“Such threats do not rest easily with me.” Mother spoke, clenching her jaw, and pulling me closer to her which only rendered Namor’s smirk to grow wider.

“I am not a woman who enjoys repeating herself,” Mother warned, “Return the scientist to us as it is the vibranium from our lands that she was in search for to complete her project. I give you my word that she will bring no harm to your people nor will the Americans.”

He shook his head, “Such agreements do not happen so naturally. I’d like something in exchange for such a gesture that I will be offering.”

Mother’s face paled as she realized what he meant when his eyes travel to where I stood and slowly walked towards me. “You are asking me to do the impossible,” Mother’s voice trembled as she stood before me, protectively. “I have lost my first-born, I cannot lose my daughter.”

“You forget that I had never agreed to peace being an option.” Everything else happened so suddenly when Namor caught my arm. I found myself standing so close to him that I could see the muscles of his jaw working angrily. “Your scientist will be returned to Wakanda. Mourn your losses and bury your dead as Wakanda will soon burn to ashes.”

“Mother!”

The last moments I remembered were my Mother on her knees, her arms reaching out to me as if she was attempting to use some sort of supernatural force to bring me back. Namor’s grip around my torso grew stronger as the water currents seemed to pull me down the deeper I fell.

My sight began to blur as black dots danced around my vision and I wondered when I’d see my Mother and Shuri again.

#mcu #mcu namor #black panther 2 #namor #namor imagine #namor x reader #namor one shot #namor x you

483 notes · View notes

iamawrittensentence · 5 months

Text

i think a lot about how when you're a child growing up in the kind of church I did, the expectation of performance is inseparable from the act itself. and how when you're supposed to hate yourself in order to be loved. like. the idea is that god hates you(r sin), and that he can't *not* hate like that due to his nature. and that you have to change or fight your nature in order to be in his grace. but the idea is not two-sided. the idea that god should or even *could* change isn't even thought of. you have to enter the headspace of god to be loved by him. so you spend every service waiting for the holy spirit to strike, waiting for it to split you open and lay you bare at the altar. screaming and crying is the sound of god of god loving you. the closest you can be to him is when you're broken, incoherent and writhing. and you learn to chase that feeling. but that's predicated on a feeling of safety, of familiarity, of accountability to the other members of the church.

what do you do when you move at 11? every tie severed at once. your grandmother, who was the model for love in your life, the model for *god,* now 999 miles away. you left your*self* 999 miles away. of course, we try again. this is our chance for a new start! all the opportunities we've regaled you with are now right in front of you. take them! take them! take them! come on- take them! listen, you just have to apply yourself. I *know* you're smarter than this, you just have to put the work in.

what happened to the son I knew? you used to be so sweet. I miss the sweeter version of you. the ways in which you are changing are not acceptable, please try again.

We found a church that we wanna try. I promise it'll be like it used to be, you just have to try. come on- we're trying so hard, why cant you just meet us halfway? there's the son I love, keep the big smile!!

its not the same though. it's been almost a year in the new place and you are alone. there feels like a barrier between y'all -*did you just say y'all?* and the world you've landed in. children run in circles in the youth room, playing games you've never heard of. none of these people feel real to you. everything here is so plastic and structured, and you've never seen a church that looks like a school. never been in a church that required a PA system and jumbo screens to see and hear the preacher. lyrics play onscreen as the band plays top 50 christian hits.

you search for the rock hammer typically provided by these spaces and find yourself tool-less. how can this glorified auditorium hold god? they're trying too hard to find him, you think. it feels like they're trying to bring him into the room, but god rushes up behind you when you're vulnerable and tears you open in front of everyone. a divine experience involves pulsing and bleeding, unable to bear the world through the eyes of god, and a team of people to nurse you back to humanity. there is none of that here.

you feel like a failure. you've felt god before, why can't you now? everyone else can. just try, okay? I *know* you're holier than this. where's the son I used to know? You used to be so pious. that's better, big smiles!

you learn that feeling it isn't as important as *doing* it. no one else around you can tell what's going on in your mind, and god doesn't seem interested in snitching. maybe if you go ahead and cry it'll be easier to do it for real next time. you walk into the sanctuary every day with a mix of anticipation, fear, and guilt.

maybe this time I'll be close enough to feel god. do I need to sing louder? are my arms perpendicular enough to the floor? if I reach higher, will I feel him brush my fingertips? maybe I need to memorize the songs. after all, this is the music good christians listen to. maybe if you learn to love the music, you'll love god better. maybe then he'll answer. after all, you love music, so you must just hate god if these songs aren't doing it for you.

it's been years since you've bled in church naturally. you learn to bring your own rock hammer. to break yourself apart on what little of god you have managed to stash away here. no one can know. god belongs in church, and outsourcing is strictly forbidden. so make sure the wounds match. these people are bloodspatter experts. and if you cant match the wounds, cant copy the spatter, well it's an easy fix, really. pulp yourself and paint the scene so thoroughly the only possible conclusion is that you are wounded, wounded, wounded. if you bleed *enough*, no one will bother checking *how* you're bleeding.

or where.

another 999 miles later and you've learned to take it as a given that you're a fraud. maybe one day you'll really get serious and devote yourself to god, but you haven't, so you cant. you're so scarred you can no longer find easy flesh to pierce. every vulnerable part of you has been repeatedly shredded in order to show god your insides. *see, I'm still human! I still bleed for you!* you find that your skull is now used to his rock hammer. it no longer makes the beautiful spatters that made you feel so close to him. the pain is dull, and the blood flows weakly, so much lost you can no longer even bleed.

another church. you continue to throw yourself against the stones, but it feels even more performative now. every room you found god in is now impossibly far away. there is 17 years of distance between you and the living room. maybe one day you'll get serious and devote yourself to your family. two weeks and 45 minutes at a time stands between you and god. you decided to store him there instead of lugging him back and forth just to sit in your room. you keep buying bibles, hoping one will be able to hold him.

you have no idea how happy it makes me that you're reading your bible. actually, I should look at the churches around here, we could go together!

you stop reading your Bible. that stop asking you about it. you stop singing in church. no one notices. you stop begging god to make you love him. and he does.

what now? you find that god is still there, less demanding but no more yielding. it's your turn to sneak up behind him. split him open and inspect his innards. *see how this part bleeds? it's because you didn't honor Me. see how you don't *stop* bleeding? that's because you love Me. you were made to. I Created you in my image.* if the roles were reversed he would relish in this. but it brings you no joy. you thought it would, thought that being able to inflict yourself upon him would make you feel whole again. but consuming just passes it through you. unfortunately, you have to build yourself. you don't even have an Other to build yourself against.

You learn that reacting will never substantiate you, only preserve. you learn to work towards what you want, not run from what you don't. and you learn to stop bleeding yourself to find what runs you, and instead simply... asking. you are still covered in blood.

#from the inkwell

30 notes · View notes

theforestghost · 6 months

Text

The Consort and The Warlord Ch19

Summary: Megatron uses the All Spark to gain access to Cybertron and demands a peace treaty. An Autobot Consort is offered and Optimus is chosen. A Bonding Ceremony takes place and now Optimus has three vorn to figure out exactly what Megatron wants to do with Cybertron.

Pairing: Optimus Prime x Megatron

Continuity: Animated

Status: Complete

Megatron began his preparations to leave his ship the moment he'd gotten a reply from the Temple of Primus. It wasn't a tactic that he normally used and he wasn't even sure it would work but he'd been given the answer he'd wanted so now it was time to make his move.

Exiting the ship, Megatron expected to be greeted by the sight of the red Autobot who watched him just a little too closely. Instead the guard post was empty and the docking bay much noisier than it had been since he'd originally landed several cycles earlier. Megatron decided to use the opportunity to sneak away and find Optimus but stopped when he saw exactly why the bots were making so much noise. Across the docking bay and coming towards him was none other than Ultra Magnus.

The red Autobot flanked him and so did several others who Megatron did not recognize. The Magnus was not followed by his usual entourage. No, these were normal worker bots who were confused by the unscheduled visit. So was Megatron but he wasn't going to just run off with his enemy in stabbing distance.

"To think that you would grace me with your presence." Megatron mocked doing a slight bow as he towered over the Magnus.

Ultra Magnus scowled at this behavior and raised a single servo to silence those around him. "Leave us, I must speak with him alone." Ultra Magnus spoke.

"Ultra Magnus, sir, I believe it is unwise to be with him without an escort." The red Autobot said quickly.

"Now, Ironhide." Ultra Magnus nearly snapped at the Autobot but his optics never left Megatron. The red Autobot flinched and backed away, leading out the others in the docking bay but watching the Magnus as they left.

"And what do I owe the honor?" Megatron asked, crossing his arms over his chassis. Never did he think he'd be this close to the Magnus and have such an opportunity to snuff his spark but not be taking it. Things surely had changed since he'd returned to Cybertron.

"You've caused nothing but problems ever since your creation and despite being driven from this planet you still stubbornly return, acting like the victors when you returned with the All Spark." Ultra Magnus practically spat, his grip on the Magnus Hammer so tight, Megatron thought it might break. "And you've been nothing but a hazard since your return. Luring innocent Autobt civilians to your city with cheap novelties and fake promises we both know you cannot keep."

"I doubt you came here just to complain about my way of running Kaon." Megatron frowned. "Your council has done that plenty in our meetings."

What was the Magnus getting at? This wasn't like him at all. Ultra Magnus was the epitome of an Autobot but he was still a mech who'd been the leading reason for Megatron to leave Cybertron four million stellar cycles ago. He'd been taciturn and serious, not swayed by the power he'd received and a formidable Magnus despite his corrupted views. It had been terrifying to see such a mech pick up the Magnus Hammer so long ago.

But the mech before him was not the mech that caused Megatron to lose hope in taking Cyberton without swallowing the planet in war. No, this mech was different: beaten down and chipped away by four millions years of holding up the Autobot indocterine and every rule the Council forced upon him.

A mech who couldn't even choose his own bondmate without fearing they'd be rejected.

'A sad and lonely mech.'

Who was now desperately clinging to everything that was falling apart around him. Because of Megatron. And because of Optimus.

"Your true nature will be revealed soon and you'll be sent to the smelter like you deserve." Ultra Magnus continued. "Like you all deserve!"

"You seem quite confident in that, but public opinion of my mechs has been more positive with each cycle." Megatron said. Reeling in his own temper was difficult, his frame craved to end the Magnus here. Just like he'd always desired.

"That matters little after they learn of what you did." Ultra Magnus said.

Megatron narrowed his optics. "And tell me, what did I do?"

"Attacked their Magnus and threatened his life." Ultra Magnus lifted his chin as he spoke.

"I am not foolish enough to fall for the petty tricks you and the Council play." Megatron scoffed.

"Hm, even after finding out about what happened to your consort?" Ultra Magnus asked.

"I know about the Shadow Play you forced Optimus to undergo." Megatron replied. "I am furious about this but I intend to have you face the consequences of your own actions with your own laws."

"How noble, it's too bad Optimus won't be around to testify against me." Ultra Magnus sneered.

Megatron stiffened, optics wide as he stared down at the Magnus. "What do you mean by that?" He hisses between bared denta.

"I have no need for bots that do not listen." Ultra Magnus said easily. "You corrupted Optimus quite thoroughly."

Megatron wanted to retort, he wanted to scream at Ultra Magnus but refrained as a call came through. For a second he didn't recognize the caller until he'd remembered giving his line to the cyberninja just in case.

"We found Optimus leaking out in Ultra Magnus' office!" Prowl said quickly. Megatron could hear the other one speaking quickly.

"Bring him back here now!" Megatron said harshly before focusing his boiling anger onto the Magnus before him.

In a swift movement, Megatron grabbed Ultra Magnus by the neck and held him up by it. He growled, plating flared and denta bared as he easily held the weight of the largest Autobot with one servo. Ultra Magnus let fear leak from his frame as he grasped at the servo desperately trying to push him away. Though ready to take on rhe brunt of Megatron’s anger, the Magnus seemed to have forgotten the sheer difference between them.

"I should rip your helm from your frame and use it as a target!" Megatron roared, his anger shook the bay and the ships. "Must I remind you of exactly why you Autobots feared us so much? Why we were thrown into mines and pits and given just enough energon to function but never enough to truly live? I can rip your spark out here and now with a single servo, crush it before your optics and fold your frame into a ball and toss you into a garbage dispenser!"

Rage burned in Megatron. His frame begged him to do what he cursed. To kill the Magnus and mutilate his frame. To rip him apart, limb by limb and toss him into a smelter. He had hurt Optimus. He had hurt Optimus so much for his own selfish desires and when Optimus still didn't fold, he had tried to kill him.

So now Megatron would kill Ultra Magnus.

He'd end this entire facade and go back to the warlord that terrorized the Autobots for millions of stellar cycles. To the spark eating monster he was often called. He had the right to do so. He had every desire to do so.

But when the two cyberninjas ran into the docking bay with an unmoving Optimus and the Autobot medic came rushing out of his ship and yelled at them to get inside, Megatron let go.

He turned around and followed after his bonded without a single glance to the fallen Magnus.

Inside the ship, Megatron found his blinding rage to be settling into a quiet roar that was drowned out by the bots who were running back and forth in the medical bay of his ship. Ratchet was the loudest, yelling out order as his servos worked to hold down the wound on Optimus' abdomen. Energon leaked profusely, staining the armor a brilliant pink.

Megatron could just barely make out Ratchet's sharp orders, his optics focused on Optimus. It was the only thing he could do to stay standing, the other bots working around him instead of asking him to move. He couldn't even if they wanted him too because Megatron was grounded where he was, watching the bot that had managed to capture his spark bleed out and he could do nothing.

Never had Megatron felt this helpless.

It took hours for Ratchet to finally step away from Optimus and then turn to Megatron. The medic seemed exhausted but the bright colors of Optimus' frame proved he was still online. Megatron let his frame relax and released the tension he'd built up. Ratchet shook his helm as he took a seat in a nearby chair, clearly exhausted, and pointed to another for Megatron to take.

"Sit, you look like you need it more than me." Ratchet said. He began cleaning energon off of his servos.

Megatron took a step closer to the large chair but his optics still focused on Optimus. "How is he?" Megatron asked hesitantly.

"He'll live." Ratchet said, leaning back against a desk. "Kid was fragging lucky that Prowl found him when he did. He was stabbed straight to his fuel pump."

"Ultra Magnus did it." Megatron said. He walked over to Optimus. The mech was in stasis, faceplate neutral but the fresh welding and energon on his abdomen stood out.

Ratchet let out a string of curses, covering hid faceplate with his servo. "Just what would've caused him to do this?" He exasperated.

"I tried to convince Optimus about his Shadow Play…" Megatron said. "He must have confronted Magnus about it. I knew I should've taken him back last cycle!"

"And then Optimus may believe you tried to kidnap him and gone back to Ultra Magnus even more willingly!" Ratchet snapped. "We don't know every detail of how Optimus was manipulated and you could've been adding oil to the fire! At least now Optimus knows who his enemy is, even if this is the worst case scenario. The kid’s alive and will wake up in a few cycles. By then we'll be back in Kaon, far away from Ultra Magnus and where he can recover and decide what to do in the future."

Megatron looked at Ratchet and a part of him felt impressed by the lecture the medic was giving him. Not many outside of Strika would be able to talk to Megatron like that and there were times he could appreciate it. Like now when he knew his own emotions were rising so high and so fast that his judgment was clouded beyond all reason. It was already a miracle that he hadn't offlined Ultra Magnus before and Megatron was certain he might have if he hadn't seen Optimus' limp frame at that moment. Maybe deep down he really hadn't changed from his old ways and was still the violent tyrant he'd made himself out to be.

Megatron frowned and carefully took Optimus' servos in his. It was so small compared to his own and he didn't move from his current stasis status but it was warm and familiar and grounded Megatron far more than he thought it would. Megatron gave it a gentle squeeze and turned to Ratchet.

"Thank you, for staying by his side." Megatron said.

"I owe Optimus a lot, far more than I'd like to admit and I refuse to let him go to the Well before I do." Ratchet said. "Now if you intend to stay by his side until we reach Kaon, at least sit down."

Megatron conceded and took the offered chair, his servo never letting Optimus' go.

It did not take long for them to return to Kaon and Megatron was glad to have Optimus safely within his city. Here Ultra Magnus and the Council could not touch him. Here he could heal.

Though Megatron would have preferred this to be in their habsuite, he knew Optimus needed a hospital and agreed to him staying there. Megatron did not leave the room Optimus was staying in, despite Strika urging him to have a meeting with the generals in regards to what happened since their departure. Megatron knew she was right but decided that waiting until Optimus woke up would be best. Though there were some complaints from a certain Winglord, Megatron silenced them with a reminder that if any of their Bonded was in the same situation, they wouldn't be leaving their side either.

It was on the second cycle back in Kaon that Optinus finally woke from his stasis. He'd been having his welding cleaned and checked when he stirred and woke rather abruptly, nearly opening the wound. Ratchet almost had to redo the stasis when Optimus began to panic but Megatron had securely held him down and comforted him until the panic settled. Ratchet almost couldn't believe Optimus had had his memories altered with how well he'd responded to Megatron.

"Why do you care so much for a mech like me?" Optimus asked Megatron on the second cycle after he woke up. "I mean I fragged everything up. I got my memories altered and despite everything, I still went to Ultra Magnus only to get stabbed. And yet you haven't left my side once. Why?"

Megatron seemed caught off guard by this sudden question but the frustrated pout Optimus was giving him was irresistible. Megatron was seated beside Optimus, reading over a datapad he'd received from the Temple of Primus and looking at his reports from Iacon over everything that had happened since they'd left. Optimus was recovering well enough physically but there were still many challenges they had to face. His fuel pump needed time to repair itself, leaving Optimus berth ridden for the foreseeable future. There was also the subject of reversing his Shadow Play that Megatron had not found the opportunity to bring up. Instead he's been focused on keeping Optimus calm and comfortable so he didn't risk opening his welds again.

"This may surprise you but I do care for you deeply." Megatron said easily.

"Why?" Optimus asked, optics narrowed.

"Because you made me fall in love with you." Megatron answered. He put his datapad down and faced Optimus. "Because even though I intended to keep you at a respectful distance, you broke through every expectation I had of you. You proved that our people could live together and that my dreams weren't ideals. Because you charmed me with your kindness and attitude to the point I want to call you mine."

Optimus stared at him in shock, finials standing straight and intake agape. He stuttered out some nonsense and quickly looked down at his servos. That hadn't been the answer he'd been expecting, he actually didn't know what he expected. But not that!

"We can reverse the Shadow Play." Megatron mentioned. Optimus froze and looked up at Megatron slowly. Megatron met his optics. "We found a mnemosurgeon who trained under the one who did your initial surgery. There are risks but he is our best bet."

"What are the risks?" Optimus asked. He clenched the mesh covering on his lap.

"You may not wake up from the stasis." Megatron said bluntly. "He said that sometimes the processor just shuts down due to the second surgery."

Optimus looked back to his servos and frowned. This was a big risk. There was no easy way to fix this and that was that. Megatron covered his servo with his own and Optimus looked back at him. Megatron was leaned in closer and let his field wash over Optimus to comfort his consort.

"The choice is yours to make." Megatron said. "I will not force you to choose to do the surgery."

"Thank you… but I know my answer." Optimus said, forcing a smile. "I want to do the surgery."

Megatron felt relief but he also wanted to make sure that Optimus understood his decision. "Are you certain?" He asked.

"I know I can make new memories with you. But I can't live with these false memories and emotions that were put inside of me." Optimus said. "I want them gone."

Megatron nodded in understanding and took Optimus' servos into his own and kissed the back of them gently. "I will let Ratchet know of your decision. We will have to wait till you’ve recovered, but I promise once you have healed, you will have the surgery."

"Thank you."

#fanfic #fanfiction #megatron #optimus prime #optimus x megatron #the consort and the warlord #transformers animated

10 notes · View notes

subjectively-objective · 3 days

Text

Arcana 99 - Ch. 5

A Floating Relic

What is this? Next

Of course, I had heard of the Grenfell-Maxwell Marathon. Upon first hearing of it, and the prize that awaited the victor, I knew that this was the moment I was told to await. I quickly gathered a platoon of like-minded men and refitted an old zeppelin to carry us to victory.

The sight of the quarter-kilometer-long beast drew attention, but I became a Major for my ability to turn things around. We moored the zeppelin several miles behind the end of the race’s starting grid. We would launch before the race began and would drift to just behind the line by noon. After that, I would brief the men aboard of our mission, but before I could do either, I needed to finish this idiotic interview.

“So, what are your plans if you win this ‘wish’ everyone’s been promised?” The reporter laughed at the word ‘wish’ as he pointed the microphone to me.

“I care none for the wish, real or no. I only desire to show that Germany has moved beyond our wretched past and is a source of more than just war.”

Damned Englishman, you are the reason we’re seen this way.

“And you’ll certainly show the versatility of German engineering with your zeppelin back there. Might I ask what its name is?”

“Oh, yes, that is the Graf Zeppelin, but we call it the Graf II to avoid confusion. Built to be the sister ship of the Hindenburg, but after the disaster in ‘37, it was scheduled for destruction.” The reporter nodded along to my drivel.

You’d believe anything, wouldn’t you?

“I fought tooth and claw to keep it around, for historical purposes of course. I had the interior remodeled to better reflect the Hindenburg and even took it for a few test flights. Even then, I never thought I’d get the chance to fly it for any real journeys much less with so many watching,” I forced a natural smile, “It truly is an honor to be able to be the man that shows the world that airships need not be forgotten.”

Honor? A fool’s tool, and. . .

“Thank you for that insight, Mr. Kober. One final question, how are you prepared to obtain helium abroad with most of it being held in the US?”

It’s Major Kober you twit.

“Ha, the US may have 90% of all helium, but we’ve made contracts with the other 10%. Some of them were even willing to give it to us for free just to see the Graf fly overhead.”

“Wow, I suppose you have everything figured out, huh?”

You fucking imbecile. No amount of helium could make it fly, not without drastic changes to the ship. Hydrogen is the only option we have.

“Yes,” I smiled at the man, “planning ahead is a must when flying an airship. Misreading a weather map, flying too high, unevenly distributing weight, and venting too much air can all quickly lead to a crash. Even landing is an odyssey. We need specially built mooring masts which haven’t been made or used in twenty years. In fact, we had to order the construction of a mast both here and in Lake Petén Itzá just to be able to participate in the race. And, if we must build one at every stage and hire a ground crew to launch and land us, we’d probably spend more money than we could win!”

The reporter laughed then took a step back, “Well, that’s all we have time for. The race is going to start soon, and I’m sure you’re just dying to get started,” The reporter said some final words to his invisible audience then waved for the camera operator to stop filming. With that annoyance out of the way, I started for the Graf.

I boarded, and the vessel’s captain immediately ordered the 200-person ground crew to walk the Graf Zeppelin away from its moor. When we had reached an appropriate distance, he gave another order and they threw off the ropes tying us to the ground and the Graf began to gently lift off. If I hadn’t watched it happen, I never would have never noticed it due to the gentle nature of our ascent. When we reached our cruising altitude of 200 meters, I climbed up the ladder from the control gondola and into the Zeppelin’s hull. From there I walked into the lower deck’s interior. I turned left, walked through the Chief Stewards cabin which had been refitted into a cabin for our head doctor, and into the smoking room.

Inside sat the eight sergeants of our 85-man army. I gave them a swift briefing of our flight plans, and how they should prepare their troops for potential deployment. The officers knew that deployment was unlikely. I knew better but kept it to myself for now. I finished the briefing, and the other eight men all stood to relay the information to their squads. As they left, I stopped the fourth squad sergeant, Vasilij Hetzenauer, and gave him further instruction. I then made my way to the upper deck lounge.

We had refitted much of the old ship to better reflect our needs, but many of the niceties originally provided were too great to remove. We had kept the paintings, seats, and tables from the original design, however, the item I had wanted most, the aluminum Blüthner piano, had been destroyed during the war.

I had always held a fascination with musical instruments. The skill and artisanship required to make even a rudimentary one were immense. Every detail, every facet of the design had to be perfect. It was like a microcosm of life; to succeed, all imperfections must be removed and replaced. If you have an imperfect piano, you could fix the broken parts as they begin to interfere with its sound, but in the end, you would still need to remove them all. So, why waste time waiting for them to harm you?

My mourning was interrupted by sergeant Hetzenhauer stepping into the room. He had a rifle on his back and a tube in his hand. If I had looked closer, I would have seen that the tube was a single scope of a long-broken binocular. Of course, I had no need to look closer; I already knew what it could do. The sergeant walked past me and sat on a bench in the promenade. He opened the window before him and readied his rifle.

“I take it that you already know what I was going to order?” I said, sitting down on the bench beside him.

“I knew that ‘meet me in the lounge, bring your gun’ meant that I was about to fire it,” he fiddled with the rifle’s scope, “What I don’t know is how you expected me to see anything.”

I looked out my own window. The ground beneath us looked like little more than a muddy pond. A moment later, a lone fish leaped out of the water. It continued to climb upwards until its entire form was revealed to not be a fish but a plane.

“There’s your answer Hetzenauer. Dumont would win this race. . . if she can finish.”

Vasilij said nothing. He carefully aimed his rifle at the approaching plane and surveyed it for weak areas. The plane continued its rapid ascent, much more rapid than I thought Dumont would fly, and grew ever nearer to our vessel. In fact, she appeared to be on a direct collision course with us.

Is she really so desperate for attention? Oh well, she would be the only one hurt by such a crash.

I glanced at the old ship wheel hung on the wall above where the piano should have been.

Dumont’s plane was less than a hundred meters from us now, and sergeant Hetzenauer smiled, fumbled with his gun’s trigger, and quickly pulled it back inside the window. I barely had time to register that he had not even made a shot before Dumont’s plane eclipsed our windows and veered away from us.

With Dumont’s distraction over, I was able to fully focus on Vasilij’s direct failure, “You didn’t fire! Explain yourself right now!”

“I had two reasons for not firing, Major Kober,” He addressed me by my title, but his words held no respect, only necessity. “One, the pilot of that plane was not Dumont. Two, someone else had sabotaged her plane and caused one of the engines to catch fire.”

We weren’t the only ones thinking about eliminating Dumont. Good.

I congratulated Vasilij for his observational skills and dismissed him. He retired to the writing room next to the lounge. I looked out the window once more. The air beneath us was still too murky to make out any individual people. Craning my neck to glimpse at Dumont's shrinking plane, I could barely make out several thin, gray wisps emanating from it.

With first-place secured, I started towards the lower deck's bar.

Vasilij's voice emerged from the writing room and cut my plans short, “Major Kober!” His voice still held no respect, only urgency, “Two racers have already pulled ahead of us!”

What?!

I ran to the room. Inside a small radio was quietly tuned into the race. Out of the radio came the voice of the reporter that had interviewed me earlier, “. . .of the same team. This really does put the pressure on the other competitors. Can anyone but Dumont’s plane and Kober’s Zeppelin hope to stand up to these two magnificent competitors? Why, if I wasn’t watching this happen, I would dismiss it as fantasy. Yet, here they are. A motorcycle and a horse topping nearly one-hundred and fifty miles per hour. . .”

I looked at Vasilij.

Could they have. . .

“. . . ten minutes ago, I would have given the race to Dumont, and second place to Kober, but now it appears that second is likely to be. . .” The announcer’s voice became more muted as he spoke to the unheard people within the studio, “You really think I would fall for this nonsense? I know that this race is starting a bit strange, but you won’t make me look like a fool! I should have you fired for that! There’s no way. . .” Silence filled the airwaves as someone at the studio muted his microphone, “Are we back now?” His voice had lost all the wonder and cheeriness it held before. It had been replaced with the voice of someone’s whose entire world had been destroyed and violated before them; a voice I had only heard one other time, “God, this will be the end of my career,” He took a deep breath, and a rustling page could be heard, “The first stage of the Grenfell-Maxwell Marathon, from the Great Salt Lake to Flores, Guatemala, started on June 24, 1954, at 12:00 PM. Now, at 12:15 PM on the same day, it. . . it. . .” He sighed, paused, and sighed again, “We have a winner.”

What!? How dare they! First, those two bastards break ahead, and now someone else has already won? Verdammt, we’ll lose at this rate. Then we’ll never get the wish, and the Reich will never be reformed.

I stopped, afraid I had spoken. They were too transfixed by the broadcast to notice if I had. My lapse in concentration caused my wound to flare up. My cheek burned, and I soothed it the best I could with the moist handkerchief I kept for moments like this.

No. No, perfection is achieved by destroying the imperfect. And victory is achieved by destroying the undeserving victors. I cannot get caught up in minor setbacks. Not until I know who I can trust with my true goal.

That thought calmed me enough to ignore the pain. This race was certainly going to be more difficult than I anticipated, but with both the Graf and our manpower, victory was an inevitability. This race was merely a test. A test to ensure that the imperfect is removed and the perfect rise. I smiled, now certain of my success.

I am Gottlieb Kober, and this race is how I got my wish.

#writeblr #writing #creative writing #writing on tumblr #prose #original fiction #serial fiction #arcana 99 #day one

1 note · View note

sevens-binarycode · 3 years

Text

I have an unhealthy addiction to this boy.

Saeyoung x Reader (fem)

Smut: Female masturbation, oral sex, vag penetration, insecure reader (Saeyoung is a little forceful at first but it all comes together in the end as to why he did what he did. Please don’t send hate, I do not promote pricing someone into an uncomfortable situation but Saeyoung was doing it so he could comfort the reader and help them in many ways)

This took a different turn from what I intended, it is sort of yandere/stalker-ish which I have never written about and don’t really read much about ssssoooooo….. Yeah. Warning again I guess.

Sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes

His warm, soft tongue circled your clit and his fingers twisted your nipple. Your skin felt hot, so, so hot. Your chest was heaving up and down trying to fill with air. You were so close. Your voice mixing in with the lewd sounds from your pussy. Almost there. You were grateful Saeyoung had sound proofed every room in his house for privacy reasons. It's coming. “Saeyoung…”

“Y/N?” His voice seeped through the crack in the door. Your mind snapped out of its illusion, your orgasm being ruined as you hand retreated from your nub and yanked the blanket out from under you and wrapped your front.

“I’m changing! One second!” You called, scooting back farther on your bed. The only light in the room coming from the crack in the door and the dimmed lamp on the nightstand. Saeyoung had practically dragged you to his house after the hacker had broken into Rika’s apartment. He couldn’t risk losing you. Obviously, you were the party planner, RFA needed you. That’s what you told yourself anyway. Your heart was pounding, you were almost caught fantasizing about an almost complete stranger and the person who graciously let you in his house. You must be a real pervert to get off thinking about his soft red hair in your hands, his cushioned lips touching your thighs. Your eyes were wide as you waited for the door to close. Your heavy breathing reaching his ears caused him to stay.

“Are you ok Y/N? Did something happen?” He asked, sounding concerned, the door creaking open a little more. Your heart rate picked up and you brought your arms closer to your body. Your legs pushed your self closer to the headboard with their little strength. He can’t come in here! He can’t see you like this! Your hair was knotted, your stretch marks sowing, your unshaved limbs and jelly like tummy. He would be disgusted. Your breathing picked up at the thought of him seeing you like this.

“Everything is fine! Please don’t come in here!” You pleaded, your voice sounding weak and shaky, a voice that would make anyone concerned. You closed your eyes, willing the man on the other side to go away and never see this shameful sight.

“I’m coming in!” He stated while opening the door. Light hit your eyelids and you tucked your head under the blanket trying to stay out of his sight. His footsteps rushed to your side and you felt his presence just outside the thin sheet hiding you. A hand grabbed the blanket and gently pulled the fabric, Your sweaty hands clutched the blanket close to your body and you pulled yourself into a tight ball.

“You have to leave Saeyoung! Please!” You blurted. He can’t see you he can’t see you he can’t see you he can’t see you. The blanket tugged harder as he tried to get to you.

“Y/N what did you do? Did you hurt yourself?” He asked, finally ripping the blanket off of your body. Your hands reached for your head, your knees pulled to your chest and feet covering your shining pussy. His eyes took in your form. He hated the fact that you were scared but he couldn’t look away. He couldn’t stop. Your form was shaking and he could see your shoulders rise and fall with every jagged breath you took. He dropped the blanket in his hand and used it to gently touch your shoulder. You flinched and shot your head up to look at him. The fear and humiliation in his eyes sent a spear through his heart and the tears soaking your beautiful face made him internally hit himself. Nevertheless, you were stunning. Your bright eyes, soft lips, plump curves. You were everything he found beautiful stuffed into one person. Your eyes scanned his but the light prevented you from making out any features on his face.

“Don’t look… Please…” You cried softly, moving away from his hand. His figure stiffened and you could only assume he was shocked by your disgusting state. Fresh tears fell out of your eyes as you thought about your next decision. “I’ll leave by tomorrow. I’ll set up the party but you will never have to see me again. I promise.” You said shakily. Your breath speeding up and mind racing. The man in front of you felt a crack in his heart at your words. ‘Why would you leave? Why would you never see him again?’ So many things ran through his head, but he could only say one thing.

“Why?” You felt your body cringe at the question. Why did you fall for him? Why did you think you had a chance? Why would someone as disgusting and perverted as you even dare think of him in such a lewd way?

“Because you’re perfect! You’re caring, and handsome, and you always take care of everyone else, making sure they are safe even if it means spending hours and hours on end without food or sleep! You are all I’ve ever dreamed of! That’s why I did it!” You shouted all at once, your voice breaking but you didn’t care. It felt somewhat nice getting all these things off your chest. Like it was easier to breathe. After a moment of silence you realized your eyes were closed and you were still naked in front of the man you were fantasizing about just moments before. You slowly opened your eyes and started to look up at Saeyoung. You couldn’t read his face, his thoughts, everything was a mystery. Your chest was now soaked with all the tears flowing from your eyes and falling down your face. “I know you are disgusted, I know that you never will see me that way, that’s why I will leave and you will never have to see m-“ You were cut off by his lips suddenly attacking yours. With his face so close to yours you could finally see the freckles on his face, his long eyelashes that almost hit his glasses. Your brain was empty, your eyes wide and body still. ‘What is happening?’

“Close your eyes.” A husky, low whisper sounded against your lips. Blindly you obeyed the command, two hands gently pushing you down onto the bed and slowly removing your knees from your chest and hands from your head. The bed shifted under his weight as he climbed on top of you. His teeth grabbed at your bottom lip and tugged, your mouth opening slightly. His tongue wasted no time and shot into your mouth. You could feel his hands start to explore your chest, messaging your breasts and teasing your nipples. His warm tongue danced around yours and his breath caressed your face. ‘What is going on? Is this real?’ Saeyoung pulled back causing you to open your eyes.

“Please, never leave me.” He pleaded, eyes tearing up a little. You stared at him, dumbfounded at his request.

“Aren’t you disgusted?” You questioned, the tears on your face now drying and feeling cold in the air. Saeyoung looked at you, a small smile on his face as he held back tears. He removed his hand from your chest and reached for your own, slowly moving it further and further down his body until it touched something hard, something you never expected to touch.

“No. I’m not. I am so happy.” He said quietly, eyes never leaving yours. You felt your face heat up and your clit throb. ‘I made him like that?’ You thought. You slowly grabbed the outline in his jeans, moving your hand up and down slightly. Saeyoung sucked in a breath and your movements and removed his hand from yours. His eyes closed, finally feeling your touch after so long. He opened his and saw you looking at your hand, caressing his crotch, face red and embarrassed. He could feel your thighs close and your body wiggle with impatience. He lowered himself to his elbow, using his free hand to gently grab your chin and lift your face up, lips meeting in a slow kiss. He prayed you couldn’t feel his heart pounding, but also hoped if you could, you would realize just how much you meant to him.

His hand cupped your face and his thumb rubbed your cheek. His breathing was shaky from the kiss and your hand becoming more aggressive. It felt so much better than he could have ever imagined. Slowly his mouth and hand travelled down your face to your neck, to your chest, and landing on your nipples. His tongue circled your nub and his fingers rolled the other. Your hand paused its assault on his dick for a moment, head shooting back and mouth opening, a loud moan escaping your lips. Your hand started to rub his dick again, speeding up from before and applying more pressure. He let out a groan into your chest, the vibrations sending a shiver down your spine and goose bumps all over your skin. His lips moved down, his body following, slowly removing his cock from your reach, your hand trailed his torso feeling the abs under his shirt. It was surprising as his diet consisted of chips and soda and he sat at a computer all day. His mouth left sloppy kisses down your stomach, making its way farther and farther down your body until his hands were gently opening your thighs.

You looked down at his face, his eyes were gentle but had a sort of need behind them. He kissed your knee, then your thigh, his hands slowly rubbing your legs to try and convince you to show yourself to him. You caved and opened your thighs, your arms immediately covering your face to hide your embarrassment. A thick smell hit the red heads nose and his entire body shuddered. ‘Finally. She is in my arms.’ His mouth led a trail of kisses, working his way from your knee to your inner thigh, stopping briefly when he met his destination. He stared at your folds, the juices from earlier having dried in the chilled air, a few days worth of hair blanketing your skin, but none of that mattered to him. You were beautiful to him no matter what you looked like or how long you had gone without shaving.

A loud gasp escaped your lips as a warm, wet muscle landed on your clit. Your hands wanting to grab his head, to push him away from the filthy part yet pull him closer to feel more of him. You felt your toes curl at the sensations coming from your sensitive pussy, still aching from your ruined orgasm. The feeling was starting to be too much, your clit was too sensitive, juices poured from your pussy as you finally came undone. Loud moans filled the air, taking over Saeyoung’s thoughts. His tongue continued to work magic on your pussy, carrying you through your high and leaving you a twitching, shaking mess. Your hands weakly pushed him away, snapping him from his thoughts and made him pull back. Your chest was heaving and your head was thrown to the side, you were completely exhausted.

“Beautiful.” He whispered, feeling an ache come from his lower region. He slowly undid his belt and released his cock from its confinements. The tip of his dick was as red as his hair, angry from neglect. He carefully wrapped his hands around it and began stroking, looking at your body completely wrecked from just his tongue. A low moan came from his mouth causing you to look at him. His hand was pumping the most beautiful dick you had ever seen. It was thick and long, the tip leaking some pre cum causing it to shine in the light. Your mouth watered at the sight and you slowly started to sit up, reaching for it.

“No no no. I can’t have you do that” Saeyoung said in a playful yet desperate voice. He ripped off his clothes and pushed you back down on the bed ignoring your whines of protest. “Another time baby. I can’t wait any longer.” He whispered into your ear, spreading your legs further apart to accommodate his hips. He grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed causing you to yelp at the sudden movement. Your ankles were on his shoulders, his arms holding your legs to his body. He grabbed his dick with one hand and smacked it against your folds. You both groaned at the contact, wanting more than a mere smack. He positioned himself at your entrance before slowly piercing through your hole. Your body squeezed his tip making him almost lose his mind. It was so warm and soft inside you, nothing could ever compare to it.

After ensuring he was not going to come by just putting his tip in, he slowly moved his full length in. Your hands flew to your stomach, feeling full from his dick. You moaned at the sensation, wanting to feel like this forever. Slowly, he pulled out, watching his dick leave your body now shining with juices, it was almost too much for him. The thought made him go crazy and made his hips snap back into you. The movement made your eyes shoot open, head thrown back and mouth wide open shouting lewd moans. Your voice started to bounce as he pistoned in and out of your body, losing himself in the feeling, the sight, and the noises of you. Your mind was going blank, too overcome with pleasure to even think to breath.

“Y/N… Y/N… Y/N!” Saeyoung chanted, sweat running down his form as he desperately thrusted into you. Your head turned towards the door, eyes half closed. You didn’t think you would be able to process anything at the moment, your mind was too hazy. But one thing was for sure, there was a red blinking light in the corner of the room. The same light that was on his security cameras in the living room, hallways, outside of his house. He had known what you were doing prior to this. He had seen everything. He had heard everything.

He knew everything.

816 notes · View notes

iwadori · 3 years

Note

hello! I love your works so much! Can I request an angst to comfort scenario for #21 on your prompt list?

“It’s my fault for trusting you”

Feel free to use whichever character(s) you like!!

When the haikyu boys neglect you for another girl PT 3

Part One Part Two Part Three Part four Part Five

Word Count: 2.7K

Genre: angst,fluff

masterlist

Akaashi

You and Akaashi were beautiful people

Probably the most attractive pair of young adults that anyone can find

You were both top tier models in the industry

You always had a little rivalry between you but you always promised each other to never let it affect your ‘relationship’

“Beautiful darling, your beautiful” praised your photographer as you finished your shoot giving you air kisses on your cheeks. You thanked him and the rest of the staff and entered your dressing room sighing.

“Rough day?” Asked a voice, startling you a bit. You looked up to see your boyfriend, Akaashi Keiji sitting in the corner of your dressing room on a love seat.

“Gosh Keiji you scared me” clutching your chest dramatically “But yes, the day has been tiring Fabio has really been overworking me lately” you complained. Akaashi walks towards you and gave you a peck on the cheek “Aww poor baby” he cooed mockingly, “but don’t worry ‘bout it Y/N your sucess will be all be worth it eventually” he says making you smile.

“and besides, you’ve got a shoot with me soon anyways” he winks, making you chuckle. You finished removing your make-up as Akaashi tells you about his shoot today and Bokuto’s (your fellow model friend) antics.

You and Akaashi first laid eyes on eachother when you were both up and coming models, you both are under the same company. At first, both of your agents decided to make you spend time with each other to push the narrative of you being a couple anyways. However, since you and Akaashi had great natural chemistry it made your relationship great and made for a great photo too.

As much as the public loved your relationship and the saucy photos you tend to make together, they also thrived of the slight rivalry you guys had together or the times when you guys bother shot with other people (since it was easy for a fan to make a new ship off of two people literally standing next to each other.)

You spent the next day having what you and Akaashi called a ‘rest day,’ you both specifically clear your schedules for every 2nd and 4th saturday of each month to not do any work-related for the day and just bask in each other’s companies (as you were both busy and barely got enough time to see one another.)

You watched multiple movies, made your own homemade cookies and dinner, had pillow fights, built forts. You both were having so much fun, until you both got a call...Just then, the vibe changed you went from your free-spirited fun selfs back into work mode.

Your agent told you that two brands *Insert big fashion designer brand here* and *Insert another big fashion designer brand here* were having some form of standoff. To be honest, you didn’t really care about the context of the shoot(s) in this case, as your agents call ruined your day. They wanted you and Tsukishima Kei, to do some competing shoots and promotional videos for their brand against the other designer.

After getting all your information from your agent, you go back into the living and see Akaashi sitting down thinking deeply about something. “What was your call about?” you inquire sitting down next to him.

“Oh just some silly designer brand competition thing.” he mindlessly replies, still thinking deeply.

“Yeah same. So what’s got you thinking all deeply then?” you ask

“My fellow model is going to be Kiyoko Shimuzu” he sighed, making you blink repeatedly before immediately saying “You can’t do the shoot”

Kiyoko Shimuzu was japans beauty. Everybody loved her, she’s been a model since she was a child everyone wanting a grasp on her looks. The guys wanted her, the girls wanted to be here. Kiyoko Shimuzu was a force to be reckon with.

The real problem at hand wasn’t her stunning looks, popularity and fame. It was her connection with Akaashi. Before Akaashi went big and met you, he was Kiyoko’s boyfriend (well ex-boyfriend now) and they broke up because of long-distance or something like that.

However, to you, Kiyoko’s feelings for your boyfriend have never went away. Whenever you guys bumped into each other at red carpet events or runway shows, she always seemed to linger a bit too long around your boyfriend, which definitely wasn’t to your liking.

Akaashi lifted up his head from inside his palms and looked at you as if you had grown another head. “What do you mean, ‘I can’t do the shoot’” he asked in disbelief

“I mean, you can’t do the shoot” you reiterated not understanding why he didn’t understand.

Akaashi sighs before putting his face back in his hands to think, “Well I know you got to the shoot aswell Y/N who’s yours with.”

“Tsukki” You said nonchalantly say as if it was nothing, making Akaashi look at you again as if you were fully crazy before he had a chance to speak you cut him off saying “Don’t even start Akaashi.”

You and Tsukishima Kei, have best friends since you were kids. You weren’t romantic in any way shape or form, well at least you weren’t. Akaashi always claimed that that Tsukishima was in love with you, that you and Tsukishima were the perfect example of every ‘childhood friends-lovers trope’ ever, which to you wasn’t true. Everything between you and Tsukishima was and still is completely platonic which you can’t say the same for Akaashi and Kiyoko.

“You’re not doing the shoot” he says firmly as if he was your father.

“Oh so you can do your shoot with your literally EX GIRLFRIEND, but I can’t do mine with my best friend... yeah make sense” you say standing up, astounded.

“Y/N chill, If you’re so adamant about me not doing it with Shi- Kiyoko, then I wont” he says pulling your arm down making you land on him “and you better not do it with ‘Tsukki’” he mocked.

“Okay so none of us are doing the shoots?” you ask looking up at him

“Yup” he says

“Pinky promise,” you joked sticking out your pinky in his face.

“Pinky promise” he agreed hooking his finger around yours.

For the next month it seemed you were booked busy, you barely got to see your boyfriend as his agent had him running around all of Japan and even had him booked in some places in Europe for this month. Of course, you missed him, but you understand how busy it can be doing your line of work. You’ve been quite busy too, doing the usual shoots and runways.

Although he was busy, Akaashi basically went radio silent on you. You still expected him to reply to some of your messages or at least call once or twice when he had the chance, since he must have 10 minutes of break time and that's the bare minimum.

It’s been two weeks since you last saw Akaashi (and that was on your saturday rest day) and you were expecting him to come over today so you could have another. Since of course, Saturday ‘rest days’ were basically a tradition for you and Akaashi before you even started dating.

You had no text from Akaashi explaining his lateness/absense, so you just figured he wasn’t coming putting a damper on your day. You spent the day lounging around and shoving your face with your favourite snacks and food.

You get a text from Tsukishima which read:

Tsukishima: 1 Image Attached

Tsukishima: Looks whose boyfriend stumbled on set...

You didn’t respond as you were shocked at the sight you saw, the image was a picture of Akaashi and Kiyoko on set doing shots for the *insert the other rich designer brand* the shoot that you both agreed you wouldn’t do, which was also a LINGERE brand.

You felt betrayed, you both agreed to not do the shoot and it’s not like you did do yours. You made sure to turn it down the day you made your agreement. And he skipped on your traditional saturday ‘rest day’ without even giving you any word of him not planning on arriving.

You didn’t know what to do, do you confront him about it? Or do you wait for him to approach you? Since he would plan on telling you about this right? You eventually messaged Tsukishima a ‘thanks’ and you decided how you were going to handle the situation. Pop up on Akaashi and Kiyoko at the photoshoot.

You knew where it was at, since you had the address already from when your agent first offered you the idea. You drove to the place in a breakneck speed, strutting in there like a woman on a mission (which you technically were.) You decided to wait in Akaashi’s dressing room, not wanting to cause a scene at the shoot which would be bad for yours, Akaashi’s and Kiyoko’s image and would be a waste of the time of the staff and photographer there.

Akaashi finally finished the shoot and entered his room with a sigh not realising that you were sitting in the corner of his room. “Did you have a rough time?” you ask mockingly making him jump and his eyes widen as you were the last person he expected to be there. “Why so shocked, you weren’t expecting me?” you still keep the same mocking tone in your speech.

“Y/N I-” He started

“Y/N what?” You interrupted “Y/N I’m sorry for basically ghosting you for a month? I'm sorry for doing a shoot with someone who I know is still in love with me? I’m sorry for lying to you? I’m sorry for skipping out on our rest day with no explanation on where I am?” you stare at him as he stares back speechless.

“Oh, am I missing something?” you continue “Oh yes ‘Y/n I’m sorry for doing the shoot that we both agreed that we weren’t doing’” you sit down and wait for him to reply.

Akaashi puts his head down in shame, not really knowing what to say. Because of his silence, you roll your eyes and get up fed up with his lack of explanation. Before you fully leave Akaashi blocks your way with slight tears in his eyes “I had no other choice Y/N, I had to do all those shoots and travel other places with Kiyoko because sh-”

“Wait, that’s where you were?” you shout “Gallivanting around the country with HER!” you extend your arm pointing outside the door before you turn trying to leave again.

“N-No No Y/N you’ve got to listen to me” he said putting your hands on my shoulder “She has something, on me and I-I couldn’t I can’t get out of it. It’s deeper than just a simple shoot.” You were confused but you were so upset you just didn’t want to hear it so instead of listening to your boyfriend you decided to say “you’re so full of shit Akaashi” making him gasp at your coldness and the use of his last name. “ but hey I guess thats my fault for trusting you”

You finally left the room and went to go get a breather for a second with tears sparking in your eyes. You leaned against the wall and whispered “fuck” frustrated with the whole situation. Making you jump, Tsukishima said “you should go talk to him you know.”

“What do you know Tsukki” he cringed at the nickname

“I know more than you Y/N, just go talk to him.” he said making you squint your eyes at him wondering what information he held.

When you walked back to Akaashi’s dressing room practicing an apology in your head. But you paused your arrival hearing Akaashi talking to the one and only, Kiyoko Shimuzu in his room.

“Let’s face it Akaashi, now that I’ve got this sex tape of us, I basically own you.” she said to him making your eyes widen.

You decided the smartest thing to do was to pull out your phone and record as much as the conversation as you possibly could. Because you could already tell Akaashi was in a bind.

“The next thing I want you to do is...” she continued acting as if she was thinking “break it with Y/N!”

“No certainly not Kiyoko, you’re going too far.” he said making you smile internally that he still defended your relationship. “Me and Y/N are definitely NOT breaking up.”

“Akaashi are you forgetting that I have something over you.” she pulls out her phone and she plays a video, which you can only assume is the sex tape. You can hear a bunch of moans and groans which made your stomache ache.

Tired of hearing this, you burst into the room and say “What the fuck are you doing Kiyoko”

“Oh Y/N how lovely for you to join us...” she said with a smile, “I was just discussing with your ‘boyfriend’ plans for our next shoots.”

“I always knew you were a bitch.” you say shocking your head at her.

“What do you mean Y/N?” she says with a fake smile, not knowing that you were listening in on your conversation “Actually Akaashi was telling me something he had to tell you... isn’t that right Akaashi.” you both looked over at him and he was scared and speechless.

“Oh you mean how you’ve been blackmailing him for the past two weeks...” you accuse

“You have no proof of that.” She taunted

“Oh do I..” you rebuttal then pressing play on the recording you just took watching as both Kiyoko and Akaashi look shocked. Kiyoko scurries out the room knowing she’s been caught leaving you with a triumphant smile.

You sit down, gesturing Akaashi to sit next to you. “Akaashi, I’m so sorry for not listening to you earlier I felt so betrayed thinking that you went agaisnt out agreement, but I guess I was just being a self-obsessed bitch” you say with you now looking down in shame.

“Y/N” he says with you still not meeting his eye “Y/N look at me” he lifted your chin up so you met his eye “It’s fine, It’s completely fine you didn’t know of course you didn’t know, how would you know of sex tape I unknowingly did back when I was 16!” he exclaims “Its fine, we’re good” he pulls you into a hug and kisses you on the forehead.

After you both calm down, Akaashi explains how Kiyoko started to blackmail him and how the agency loved the idea of them two being together (not the blackmailing) as it created a jealousy storyline between you and her and how every time they met she kept proposing ridiculous demands.

“Also, how did you know I ended doing the shoot?” he asks

“Oh a little bird told me” you tease

“You mean a 6ft2 bird with blonde hair and a shit personality.” he retorts making you laugh

“Heyy don’t be so mean, if it wasn’t for him I wouldn’t of came to save the day.”

“True, I’d give him that.”

Eventually, you and Akaashi go to your agency and present all your evidence and claims that Kiyoko was blackmailing Akaashi. Although they were upset, that Akaashi did partake in a sex tape they knew that they’d be an even bigger scandal if you presented your news that Japans sweetheart Kiyoko Shimuzu was blackmailing Akaashi Keiji. So the agency thought it was in everyones best interest if they got Kiyoko to sign an NDA saying that she will never bring forth or share the Sex Tape to anyone and she’ll agree to be dropped from the agency.

Your life was great now, with Kiyoko off your back and Akaashi being back to his usual self you couldn’t wish for anything more. You ended up doing the shoot persuading the design brand person (whatever the name for it is) to agree to let you do the shoot together instead of with other people. Both brands let you, because who wouldn’t want Akaashi Keiji and L/N Y/N to do a shoot together?

AUTHORS NOTE: this is the longest work ive written for a single character and i am TIRED lol..I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed my other works so I hope you enjoy this one.. to be honest I think with my works I start off strong and end shitly :// However I wanted to do something different today by making them models instead of students so I hope you like it. Now im off to read some fanfic so you guys have a good day!! <3

#haikyuu x reader comfort #haikyu angst #haikyu x reader #haikyu scenarios #haikyuu fluff #haikyu #akaashi scenarios #akaashi x y/n #akaashi headcanons #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi angst #akaashi fluff #signedwithane😌

964 notes · View notes

cornfarm · 3 years

Text

waves against the rocks

saiki kusuo x reader

word count: 2.0k

synopsis: you show saiki your powers. he’s unbearibly jealous, yet for the first time, he feels seen and understood by another person.

cws: mention of the reader having a bad family

genre: melancholic fluff

reader is gender neutral!

===================================================

notes:

greetings... i promise i’m working on cease and desist part 2 but i keep starting one shots;; I ALSO DECIDED TO CHANGE MY TEXT FORMAT... i yoinked all the capital letters away... it feels a bit more liberating

whenever i make my crazy op self insert oc, i always think about how i can make them a foil/double to the characters i like. for example my gintama s/i is also a traumatized war veteran. i thought like... wouldn’t it be fun to write the reader character as a direct foil AND double to saiki? they have everything he doesn’t, but he has a lot that they dont and it’s like,., mutual jealousy.

i also wanted to write saiki properly empathizing with someone. aiura and toritsuka are so fun because they both have different moral compasses with their powers and how they’d like to use them. however despite the fact theyre all psychics, saiki can’t really empathize with either of them.

i wanted to have saiki be excited about something, and feel truly seen. empathy is a very powerful thing.

i hope the “ability” i chose isn’t too cringe;;;

i can’t help but feel like i write saiki ooc so feedback would be super appreciated!

===================================================

perception. the way people are seen by others, the mental images and sour thoughts rooted in nothing but misconception. the falsafied persona of greatness, beauty, and kindness. perception.

you kept saiki afterschool. tugging at his sleeve, you quietly asked “i need to show you something, stay here for a few extra minutes?”. he refused you at first, but you stayed firm, “i need you to stay.” fierce. he decided to stay.

but you stood before saiki, right? were you there? he suddenly felt a bit weary, head pounding at the thought of you. your name, voice, scent, failing to find matches in his library of records. when he thought of you, his brain flickered through the faces and names of everyone else he knew.

you were a gap, a void, a sudden unconjurable memory. it was horrifying. but he quickly accepted it. the body circling behind of him was none of his concern, because there was nobody there. he supposes he should go home now. why was he standing alone in the classroom anyways?

firm hands land on his shoulders, warm, present. he remembers why he’s here.

“it’s not that i’m invisible, it’s just that your brain can’t recognize me, and refuses to acknolwedge me as a thing that exists.”

like a wave crashing against a rocky shore, the void is filled. your voice, your scent, your name, all slotted back into place in his mental library. he recognizes the hands on your shoulders as yours.

a hand snakes around and pushes up his glasses, covering his eyes.

“it’s not about visibility, it’s perception. you are unable to percieve me as a living thing, or of anything of importance. that’s why you can’t read my thoughts, and that’s why you’re so quick to give up trying to recall me.”

he’s practically trembling- you have one power. it was simple, but it managed to find a loophole around practically all of his.

“that’s terrifying.”

“right?”

you take your hands away and step in front of him. he adjusts his glasses properly.

“were you born with it?”

you nod, “it caused me trouble when i was a kid. i almost got left at an airport,” you chuckle.

“does anyone else know?”

“i’ve tried to tell my parents but they don’t believe me. they called me a liar and delusional, so i decided to stop trying with them. nobody else knows, i’ve never told any of my past friends either. when i found out about your powers, i thought maybe someone would finally understand. that’s the only reason i wanted to tell you.”

your lip quivers, “you believe me, right?”

truth be told, saiki’s stunned. he wasn’t expecting someone like you to have such an abrasive ability. despite how reclusive and fittingly unnoticeable it is, it was certainly powerful.

he’s jealous. you were able to freely aquire something he wanted- privacy, but he does believe you, afterall he just watched you waltz around him, outside of his keen field of view.

“yeah, i do.”

you smile, bright and wide- you’re nearly trembling. was being believed that big of a deal to you?

you take a step forward and embrace him, wrapping your arms around his torso as your head presses against his chest. he goes a bit stiff, and glances at the door. “hey, someone might walk in-”

“it’s fine.” you look up at him, meeting his eyes, and oh. your eyes are glimmering, shining greater than he’s ever seen them, “they won’t.”

burying your face back into him, he tenataively wraps his arms around your back. you continue, voice muffled, “’m sorry, you’re the first person who’s accepted me. i’m happy.”

the emotional explanation for your actions ease him a bit, “it’s fine.” he states back.

you finally pull away, and for a brief moment as you lose connection, you flicker out of his view, but you come back in again, placing your hand on his.

“actually, i can touch you while using my power without you being affected by them, but i’m manually using it on you right now.”

“if you touch someone while making sure they still can’t see you, what does that make them experience?” his voice is clear, a bit fierce in tone. you always had trouble reading saiki, but you could tell that this was interest. perhaps he was threatened, but he was certainly intrigued.

“they might whirl around and look who’s touching them and account it to a person around them, but if not, they might think they’re having sensory hallucinations. i can also talk to people, but because my voice doesn’t have any weight to it, it’s almost like a hypnotic suggestion.”

“so you can brainwash people?”

“not necessarily,” you let go of his hand, you must have released your power, your eyes are dark, “if i suggest something to someone and it’s something mild, they’re more likely to do it because it already falls into their line of thinking. if i suggest something bold, they might do it thinking it’s an impulsive thought.”

“most people won’t do extreme things, they’ll read those as intrusive thoughts. but sometimes people think my voice is the voice of god, or a passed on relative, and will do intense things regardless of their judgement. others have poor impulse control, and some are just batshit crazy.”

you sheepishly scratch your head, “but i don’t really like having that much control over people. i don’t want to use my powers to hurt anyone.”

“do you want to use them to help people?”

you pause. it seems you’ve thought about this quite a bit.

“well my powers can’t help people. they give me the ability to help people, but they can’t help people directly. i think it’s a matter of it i’m strong enough to help people.”

“are you?”

“would you hate me if i said no? of course i lend a hand to my friends when they need it, but i don’t think i’m strong enough to really make a difference. i want to live peacefully.”

you look down at your hands, “i wish i wasn’t born with it.”

saiki felt unnervingly softhearted. he struggled empathizing with his peers, but his heart pounded in solemn familiarity. “i don’t hate you for that, i’m the same. having the powers i do means i have the responsibility of keeping the world in peace. people would be jealous of me for the self-fulfilling purposes i could use my powers for, but i don’t want to use my powers to hurt people. i don’t want to help anyone either. i just want to be left alone.”

guilt. guilt was a disease, just like jealousy is. it eats at you from the inside, and creeps up at times least expected. it left both of you hollow and empty.

“i wish i didn’t have powers,” he continues, “i don’t think i’ve ever properly experienced life in the way i’m supposed to, like everyone else has. i’m envious of you, you’ve had a bit more normalcy than me.”

“i suppose we’re equally unhappy, then,” you smile at him. he had been staring out the window, but he turns to looks at you. you’re leaning on the door of the classroom, tilting your head, you ask him a silent “walk home with me?”.

“i mean,” you begin, “i’ve missed out on a lot. i’ve always had trouble making friends- my powers made it difficult for people to remain interested in me. i’ve gotten pretty good at controlling them, pk academy has been really good to me, but it doesn’t heal the damage it’s caused me.”

your teeth gnaw at your lower lip, “your family is so supportive of you, they love you so much, it makes me angry. i wish i could say the same about mine.”

it wasn’t too empty in the school, but your footsteps were loud and clear, both you and saiki walking in sync. saiki didn’t really know what to say, so he stayed silent.

sighing, you continue, “i don’t want to be alone, but it’s too easy to be reclusive when that’s where you’ve always been. if you live a life of isolation, making friends is scary and draining,” a grim smile forms on your face, as if you’re trying to comfort yourself.

but saiki does have to admit that the two of you have much more in common than he initially thought. he quietly thinks to himself, perhaps he could use your abilities.

“y/n,” he begins, eyes meeting yours, “will you do me a favor?”

“yeah, what is it?”

he doesn’t like being indebted to people, but he wants to test your limits. you don’t give him the chance to ask, “you want me to use my powers while we walk out together, don’t you.”

his mouth falls a bit open, lips parting, “how did you know?”.

you laugh, “you’re not the only one who can read minds,” and reach out to wrap a hand around his forearm. he raises a brow at you, seemingly amused by your comment. he expected you to take his hand again, but your firm grip on his arm was admitedly unexpected.

he felt his heart skip a beat.

“well? are you doing it?”

“yup, you won’t feel any different though.”

walking down the steps together, people passed the two of you, strangers, familiar faces, teachers. nobody noticed.

the two of you passed toritsuka at the steps, but he paid no mind. “you know,” saiki started, “when i use my invisibility power, that guy can still see me.”

“can he?” you murmur, your voice a bit low.

“if it’s easier, you can just think what you’d like to say to me, we can talk that way.”

you squint your eyes in concentration, “like this?” you think to yourself.

“yeah.”

you smile. you continue to hold onto his arm as he changes his shoes.

“that must be frustrating, that he can still see you.”

he nods. he supposes if toritsuka can’t see you, then aiura probably can’t track you- and him, down either.

“hold onto my arm while i change mine.”

without breaking contact, he gently wraps his fingers around your wrist. you hastily change your shoes, and slide your hand a bit up, taking his in yours.

“is it neccesary to hold hands?” he asks. his expression was nearly deadpanned, but the slight crease in his brows communicated just enough. he felt sheepish, a bit lost.

“no, but it’s nice.”

teruhashi stands idly at the exit, waiting, doing her best to gently shake off the boys that surrounded her.

“she’s looking for me.”

“is she? do you want to talk to her?”

“no.”

you pause.

“is she the reason you asked me to do this for you?”

he nods.

you turn and head towards the gate, but not before waving a hand in front of her face. you take a deep breath, before exclaiming a loud “teruhashi!”. she whirls around, trying to find the source of the voice, looking rather bewildered.

letting out a hearty laugh, you grin up at him. a slight huff of air escapes his upturned lips.

the two of you slip past the front gate.

“but you owe me something in return, i don’t give out my labor for free!”

he sighs, “what would you like?”

“wait, really? i was joking, you don’t have to do anything for me!” you double down on your demands.

“you say that, but i know you’re secretly hoping i’ll treat you.”

“shit, i forgot you can read my mind. that’s so invasive.” you pout, “not fair!”

“it’s fine, i don’t like being indebted to people, and you did do me a favor like i asked, so i’ll take you somewhere.”

you look a bit nervous, “really? you’re sure?”

“just accept the offer before i revoke it.”

you twirl in a circle, letting go of his hand and hopping a few steps ahead of him. “you’re buying me a nice coffee then!”

he lunges out to take it again.

“sure.”

and once more in sync, both of your hearts skip a beat.

#im sorry for writing so much friends to lovers in the pining stage i can't help it /j #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #the disasterous life of saiki k #saiki k #saiki kusuo #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki k imagines #saiki k headcanons #saiki x reader

370 notes · View notes

nnightskiess · 3 years

Text

𝐫𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝

₊° 𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐠𝐝𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞, 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭. 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 (𝐲/𝐧), 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬. 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝. 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐢𝐜, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐟𝐮𝐥...

𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐱

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

for my great friend lux @redhairedwolfwitch ♡ thank you for everything.

"Hey, you paged us?"

Cristina tilted her head, curious, while you stood behind her, wondering if you were in trouble if the Chief needed you.

"I know you're both most interested in cardio, so..." He motioned the two of you two follow him until your pager went off.

"Shit," You mumbled under your breath, staying slightly behind as you heard Cristina gush about the cardiac trauma Hunt showed her, "I gotta run, Robbins needs me, a complication in the NICU."

"Come on?! Cardiac trauma!" Cristina turned to you, the look on her face saying enough. But you had already started to walk away, putting a spanner in the works of the plan the universe had in store for you.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

"Doctor Bailey!" You rushed after her, wanting to catch up with her and show her the results of the CT she needed, until Cristina appeared out of nowhere, seeming frustrated.

"The new attending doesn't even know how to put in a temporary pacemaker!"

They came to a halt at the nurse's station as you hovered next to Cristina, waiting your turn.

You tilted your head, "Wait- we have a new attending?"

"Did you or did you not ask this man for a new cardio attending?"

"Yes."

"And did he or did he not bring in attending after attending, none of them who seem to please you and all of whom you ran off?" Bailey gave Cristina a look, one that made you have to bite your lip so you wouldn't laugh. Doctor Bailey had her cornered, and rightly so.

"That is not a fair assessment." Cristina bluntly replied.

"Doctor Yang, has it ever occurred to you that you might be the problem? Right, leave this man alone. Go torture the new attending. (Y/S/N), you got the results?"

You passed the results over, leaving as soon as Bailey waved you off, so you could go on your way to pester Cristina.

"So... why is the new cardio attending not to your liking this time?" Cristina rolled her eyes and groaned as she heard the teasing in your voice. You followed her, ignoring the annoyed look on her face, "Let me guess... weird hairdo that keeps distracting you? Bad breath? Silly walk? Or are they just not at your level?" You air quoted, making Cristina stop to stare at you before she continued her walk, but you knew she would talk after that.

"She might have been it once, but oh no, not anymore. She made me put in a temporary transvenous pacemaker because she hadn't done it in ages."

You grimace, having to admit how bad it sounded that a cardio attending didn't know how to., "At least she admitted it?"

Your comment went completely over Cristina's head, who was still fed up with the situation, "She's inexperienced, inadequate and is definitely not a cardio goddess. She's a desert storm barbie, who hasn't seen the inside of an OR in like 10 years. Owen was wrong to bring her here."

"Well... you've used up your three wishes and Webber and Bailey are done with your complaints... so I think you're gonna be stuck with her."

Cristina let her head fall back and let out the biggest groan before turning into another hallway, leaving you to shake your head as you walked to the lifts.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

"So, what do you think of the new cardio attending? Excited to learn from her?" Arizona draped her stethoscope around her neck, following you out of the room.

"I can't say, haven't met her yet... but Cristina seems to be really happy with her."

Arizona raised an eyebrow before she saw the look on your face.

"Oh, yeah, I heard. Wait-" Arizona looked at her pager, "Hm... speaking of the devil, Yang paged me. Walk with me?" She squeezed your arm, hoping you'd follow her.

You briefly caught up with your friend as you walked through the hospital. Jackson and Cristina were standing around a hospital bed, but before the two of you could approach, Arizona's pager went off once more,

"Hm... can you inform the parents of one of our preemie babies of his vitals? They're going home and would like to hear everything's still alright before they leave. Check his vitals with them in the room or they're not going to want to leave. They're persistent, but they're good parents. " Arizona gave you a soft smile as you nodded and grinned, doing as she told, not seeing the other blonde approaching Arizona behind you as you walked away.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

You were leaning against the wall, waiting for Arizona to finish up since she was your ride home, when a happy Cristina all but skidded out of the resident's lounge.

"You're being weird. What's gotten you so happy?" You noted as Cristina's frown from that morning had turned into a wide grin.

"Guess who did a Takeuchi repair today?"

"You did not!?" You gasped and stood up straight, your full attention now on Cristina.

"Uh, not all by myself. But she did let me do the coronary artery anastomosis."

You raised your eyebrows, still surprised. Cristina was a great resident, but that was a big shot surgery, even for her. "Damn, are you taking back your words about her now?"

"Yeah, probably. Which means-" She turned serious again, pointing a finger at you, "The games have begun." She let out another ecstatic laugh before walking off, letting you know you would have to step up and fight to get hours on cardio with the new attending.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

You walked into the lifts the next morning, the coffee Arizona had gotten you in one hand, the charts of the nightshift in the other. You only had five minutes to read them all and then inform your attending of the day of any changes. But with the coffee in your system, you knew you could do this.

You skimmed the first few pages of one of the charts as other people hurried into the lift right as the doors closed. A few floors later, you knew it was your turn to step out when the doors opened. Not wanting to waste any time, you kept your head low to read the charts, but you had to look up and stop when someone crossed your path- quite literally.

A woman hurried by, apologising to people left and right as she rushed through them. Though she had been fast, you had not failed to catch a glimpse of the face that you once so adored.

Teddy Altman.

She hadn't seen you, probably because your nose had been buried in the charts, or because she had been in a rush. You watched her disappear through the double doors towards the OR's and that's when it clicked. Teddy, your old friend from back in New York, the same Teddy that was in love with cardio, was the new cardio attending Cristina suddenly seemed to be gushing about.

You ditched your coffee somewhere, your body suddenly being filled with nerves and stress. It had been years seen you'd seen her. Ever since your mutual friend Allison had passed away on that damned day, you had lost contact with Teddy. Almost as if she had disappeared. Just like that. No note, no phone call, no goodbye. Maybe it had been for the best. The abrupt ending to your friendship had helped you get rid of the wish that it would ever become something more. Teddy was gone, and so were the feelings you had secretly been harbouring inside. But seeing her now... It overwhelmed you how only a glimpse of her could bring back the crapload of memories the two of you had shared. You slipped into one of the vacant seats in the waiting room, clutching the charts against your chest.

"No sitting, (Y/S/N), you've only just started your day. Let's go! We've got jobs to do. Chop-chop!" Bailey walked by, gesturing for you to get up and go.

You stood up, took the deepest breath and made a promise to yourself-

It's been years. You changed. You were no longer the EMT Teddy used to know. You took great pride in the fact you had grown, as a person and as a doctor. You were a resident now. Besides, for all you knew, Teddy didn't want anything to do with you anymore. She must have changed too. Besides, who knows what happened to her after you lost each other.

Teddy might be back, but your feelings were long gone.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

You walked into the cafeteria, talking with some of the Mercy West residents as you grabbed your lunch, placing it on the tray in front of you. You rolled your eyes as they started to gossip, happy you had your food so you could walk away from that. Shaking your head, you turned around to scan the cafeteria, your eyes landing on Arizona's, who waved you over. You froze in your spot as you saw the back of Teddy's head, who was seated at the same table. Without thinking, you turned around and left the cafeteria in a hurry, the tray still in your hands. You hoped you had been fast enough before Teddy could have seen who Arizona had waved to.

Facing Teddy was not on your to-do list any time soon.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

You had successfully managed to avoid running into your old friend all day, rather doing scut or helping out in the clinic than scrubbing in or helping with consults. Anything to stay out of Teddy's way.

"So, will you tell me why you ran like a chicken earlier today?" Arizona wore a playful smile as she from the doorway how you were grabbing your things.

"Um-" You shuffled some things around in your locker, trying to stall coming up with an answer. Arizona was one of your best friends and already knew whatever you would say would be a complete lie, "Stomach ache. Needed a toilet."

Arizona nodded her head, her playful grin not disappearing, "Yeah... I usually like my lunch with some nice sound effects and extra stench too."

"Wha-," You stopped to turn around, "I did not eat my lunch in a toilet."

Arizona shrugged noncommittally, going to the next topic, "Had fun removing haemorrhoids at the clinic today?"

You sighed defeatedly and pushed your jacket in your bag, glaring at Arizona, who was having way too much fun with this.

"Fine. I ate lunch in a toilet cubicle and helped out at the clinic today. What's wrong with that? They need all the help they can get."

"Meanwhile you could've scrubbed in with Doctor Altman and I. She let Yang fix the kid's Alcapa. Could've been you." She shrugged.

She patted your back as you passed her out of the lounge, letting out a groan at the missed opportunity. You clung your bag over your shoulder, greeting colleagues left and right, trying to play it off, but knowing Arizona was following close behind.

"Nice try," Arizona whispered in your ear as you waited for the lifts to arrive.

You sighed and turned around, about to shoot back a witty reply to wash the grin away from your friend's face, until you saw Teddy round the corner into the hallway, coming your way while she talked to an intern. The lifts dinged behind you, but you quickly pulled Arizona away, pushing her into the door that led to the staircases.

"Okay- wait, what just happened?" Arizona let out a breathy chuckle, her eyebrows raised as she tried to decipher what was going on in your head.

"We're taking the stairs down today! Let's go, I haven't reached my 10k steps yet!" You were already walking down, leaving Arizona to look back, thinking she might have missed something, until she eventually followed.

"Okay, tell me what's going on because you've been incredibly weird, all day long." Arizona stopped you when you were about to walk out of the hospital. You looked her in the eyes, seeing the genuine concern.

"Doctor Robbins!" You shut your eyes at the familiar voice and quickly turned around, slipping into the gift store unnoticed, still in hearing distance,

"I wanted to give you this for the follow-up surgery but you left so quickly." Teddy smiled softly, watching how Arizona looked around, noticing you had dipped, "Just read through it at home and we can discuss tomorrow."

"Oh, yeah! Sure! Thanks." Arizona's eyes fell on the back of your head as you tried to distract yourself by looking at the many different postcards of Seattle.

Teddy furrowed her eyebrows slightly, "Um... okay, well, we'll talk tomorrow."

"Sure thing!"

You waited until Teddy had disappeared into the lift again before stepping out from behind the rack, Arizona immediately pulling you out of the gift shop, her mouth agape as she watched with excitement, "You are crushing on Doctor Altman!"

"What? No!"

"What else can it be? That's why you've been avoiding every place she's at like the plague. I knew you would like her, but I didn't know you would like her this much." She raised her eyebrows suggestively, the grin on her face only widening as you sighed and walked out of the hospital.

"I'm not crushing on her. I haven't even met her yet. I'm just... shy... to meet new people. I need more time."

Arizona snorted as she followed you to her car, "Yeah, sure, that's it." But she grew serious when she saw the conflict in your eyes, "You know you can tell me, right? Anything. I don't judge."

You turned in your seat, it was clear you were battling thoughts in your head. You let yourself fall back against the seat as you sighed,

"I don't want Teddy to see me. Not yet, at least."

Arizona rose an eyebrow, silently telling you she needed more information if you wanted her to understand.

"We knew each other. Back in New York."

Arizona nodded slowly, knowing about your life as an EMT in the Big Apple, "Did you fall out? Did you fight? What happened?"

"That's the thing- I don't know. One day we were friends, the next... she was gone? This is the first time I've seen her since 2001 and... I don't know, it threw me off. I don't know what to do or say now."

"She hasn't seen you yet?"

You shrugged, "No, I don't think so. Not that I know."

"Well, were you great friends before she left?"

"You could say that. I just-" You stopped yourself, sneaking a glance at Arizona, who looked back at you with an encouraging smile, "Oh God- okay... I just always feared I might have scared her away?"

Arizona pursed her lips before hearing what you rambled out next, "I had like, the biggest crush on her and for a while, I thought she had one on me too until I realised she was like that with our mutual friend Allison too and-"

"Doctor Altman likes girls?!" Arizona gasped, intrigue written on her face. You quickly shut her down, not wanting to start the spread of another rumour in the hospital,

"No?! I don't know! I don't think so. No."

You sat in silence for a while until Arizona opened her mouth, "Well, I think it would be best if you just rip the band-aid off tomorrow. I don't think she'd appreciate finding out you avoided her for as long as you could. It's probably going to be awkward either way."

You nodded softly, knowing Arizona was right, "Will you help me?"

"Pfff, of course! I got your back." She smiled at you as she drove out of the car park.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

You kept yourself busy by alternating between buttoning and unbuttoning your lab coat and fixing your hair, wanting to look presentable since Teddy hadn't seen you in years. It was silly, how you hadn't been able to let go of the nervous habits you had whenever you'd be around her. But the worry Teddy would be disappointed to see you again made it worse this time.

"Stop that, you look great." Arizona smiled encouragingly and fixed your collar as you started to play with your fingers instead, needing something to try and keep your nerves under control.

"Ready?" She asked you as she stopped in front of the room Teddy had paged her to. You gave her a curt nod and took in a breath as she opened the door, revealing Teddy who was looking at the whiteboard in front of her.

"Doctor Altman, I brought a resident who's gonna help me with this case. Hope you don't mind."

"Not at all! I went ahead and-" She stopped midsentence when she turned around, her eyes locking with yours. Sure, you had changed over the years, but you knew Teddy would recognize you in an instant.

"(Y/N)?" She breathed out, her face going from confusion to shock to excitement in just a few seconds.

"Oh my God, it's really you?" She walked up to you, her arms open to welcome you in a hug. Teddy let out an awkward chuckle as she noticed you didn't move a muscle, but she slowly and unsurely wrapped her arms around you when you took a hesitant step forward.

"It's so good to see you again! How- I- What?!" She smiled and rubbed her cheeks, trying to wrap her head around the fact you were standing in front of her, and trying to stop herself from panicking. "You left New York? When? You're a resident now!?"

"It's been years, a lot can happen." You squeezed your fingers behind your back, realising how harsh it sounded, no matter how much she deserved the cold shoulder. You just wanted to get this over with.

Teddy's smile faltered, but only momentarily, before her eyes filled with glee again, "So- what's happening? What's new? How did you get here? Are you.... third year? Or-"

"I love this little reunion but maybe it's best we focus on the surgery now...We've got little time." Arizona butted in with an apologetic smile, seeing you needed a breather.

"Yes! Of course, apologies." Teddy turned back to you, her face unreadable, but her gut wrenched with the guilt she suddenly felt. Your eyes said it all.

"We...um, should catch up later." She spoke before she quickly turned to face the whiteboard again, muttering something under her breath, hoping to be able to mask her panic in the next few hours of you two working together.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

"Go!" Arizona mumbled out, bumping your hip when you stopped, seeing she was gesturing to Teddy waiting in line. "Go break the ice!"

"I thought I already did that this morning?!" You whisper-yelled back but was pushed forward by your friend.

"Oh- hi!" You shot her a wry smile, albeit awkwardly, as Teddy turned around. "Want to...um... eat lunch outside with me? Catch up? It snowed last night and uh, I know you used to love-"

But you stopped as you saw Teddy nod and smile, "I'd like that."

"So, Seattle, huh?" Teddy started once you had found a vacant bench outside the hospital. "I thought you said you could never see yourself leaving New York?"

"Yeah, well, I got the opportunity to do my residency here... I wanted to start fresh, and New York isn't what it's been after-" You stopped, noticing how Teddy tensed. She took her time eating her sandwich, stalling an answer before she eventually had to speak.

"It's good to see you ended up where you wanted to be. Seems like all those times I helped you study for med school weren't in vain." She smiled with her eyes as she took another quick bite of her lunch. She tried so hard to read your energy, but you seemed closed off.

"Don't get me wrong, I loved being an EMT, but this is good. This is great. I'm happy now. This is the right path for me."

Teddy gave you a soft smile as she truly took you in for the first time, daring to stare at your side profile now that you were focused on your own lunch. You wore your hair differently now, your face looked a bit more mature and you also seemed more reserved, but maybe that just had to do with the awkward tension still floating between you two. Your eyes though, still gave her the same comfort, even if she had lost the ability to read them, apparently.

"What's it going to be? You got your eyes set on a specialty already?"

You nodded while taking a sip of your drink, "Cardio or peds... though I sometimes like to dabble in neuro."

Teddy let out a breathy chuckle, "Ha! Knew it! I recognized the light in your eyes every time I helped you study cardio cases."

"Well, you made it fun. It was hard not to like it by the way you explained it. You seemed passionate about it so of course, I would try to feel the same way."

She nodded to herself, the corner of her lip curling up slightly before she changed the subject, "Where were you on Monday? Doctor Robbins and I did an alcapa surgery together, you would have loved that. Would have been the perfect match for you."

"Oh, um, I don't know, I think I was helping in the pit all day? It was a busy day." Deciding to change the subject once more, you opened your mouth again, "Where did you end up? You left but never said anything, I was worried for weeks until I eventually had to let it go."

Teddy stopped and put her lunch down, "I joined the army..." she watched closely as you raised your eyebrows in surprise, "Almost immediately after... That's were I met Hunt and that's how I got here."

You nodded softly, trying to put it all into place in your head. She obviously gave you the short explanation, as she had left out years of details. But you figured she did so for a reason, and you respected her decision.

"Wasn't I worth a goodbye though?" You chuckled dryly, half joking, half serious.

"God- no, I mean yes! Of course! You deserved an explanation, that's on me, I just... had to go. I couldn't breathe. I hadn't been in a right state of mind for a while, especially after my parents passed away... and then Allison..."

You put your hand on her leg, "Teddy, it's alright, you don't have to explain further. Sorry... I just- All I actually needed to know was if you were still alive. I was dying inside not knowing if you were alright-" You bit the insides of your cheek as Teddy's hand was placed over yours. She sighed and looked out in front of her, her fingers tangling with yours as she squeezed your hand.

"I am so sorry. You deserved a proper farewell."

You nodded, agreeing, but decided to stay silent, sensing that Teddy already knew how bad she had messed up.

"So um, are you staying here? This is not a temporary thing?"

She squeezed your hand again, just to reassure you, even if she felt tortured by all the lost memories and feelings resurfacing,

"Yeah, I plan on staying." She cleared her throat, "Which is why I'm glad we worked this out right now? I mean, we're good, right?"

Thoughts circled through your head while you felt your chest tighten. Having to be around Teddy again would be a challenge, especially seeing how you left things. But you could manage. You were a surgical resident, for heaven's sake, and you were not going to let an old friend from the past ruin anything.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

#teddy altman imagine #teddy altman x reader #greys anatomy x reader #greys anatomy one shot #greys anatomy imagine #arizona robbins x reader

281 notes · View notes

ragingbookdragon · 3 years

Text

A League Of Her Own

A Wondersis One-Shot

Word Count: 1.4K Warnings: None

Author's Note: I guess I now have to put a "Wonderfamily" portion in my DC Masterlist! Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

“And this! Dear sister! Is where my team and I meet to save the world!”

Her eyes were wide with wonder and awe, gazing around the room as she breathed, “Diana, you save the world here? Every day?”

Diana shrugged. “It is mostly every day. We typically arrive to the Watchtower when one of us has a mission.” She grinned. “It is usually Batman who calls us.”

Her head swiveled. “Batman? Is he here?” She smiled, taking Diana’s hands. “Oh, I so wish to meet all your friends! The Flash and Green Lantern and Superman and—”

“Peace, (Y/N),” Diana giggled. “I shall introduce you to them all.”

(Y/N)’s smile only widened. “You cannot blame me for being so excited sister. You come home and tell me stories of your adventures and it is all I can do to be—” she cut herself off with a gasp, pointing to something in the corner. “WHAT IS THAT!”

Her sister merely watched bemusedly as (Y/N) sped over to the machine, poking and prodding it. “That is an ice cream machine.”

“How does it work?” she questioned, and Diana walked to her side, grabbing a cup from the side before putting it under the nozzle.

“Like this.” She pulled the lever and couldn’t help but laugh as (Y/N)’s eyes widened, head cocking sideways as she watched the frozen treat swirl in the cup.

“Amazing,” she breathed, and Diana handed her the cup along with a spoon.

“This is chocolate ice-cream. Be careful not to—”

(Y/N) stuck a giant spoonful in her mouth, eyes widening as she blurted. “Iss o old!”

“Sister,” Diana sighed with amusement. “I tried to warn you.”

“Old—old—old,” she whined, snapping her mouth shut, and her expression morphed into joy as she swallowed. (Y/N) shoved the cup in her sister’s face. “This is fantastic! Who created this? I must congratulate them!”

Diana fell to pieces in laughter, her sister puffing her cheeks. “Why are you laughing at me, Diana! I am being completely serious!”

“I know you are, but the inventor is…no longer alive.”

(Y/N)’s lips pulled downwards. “How sad!” she stuck the spoon back in her mouth, holding out her hand. “Ow e ore!” Diana grinned and took her hand, leading her around.

***

Some twenty minutes later, the two women were walking down the hall when (Y/N) suddenly stopped, unbeknownst to Diana, who kept talking. “You would never know the Watchtower was up here. We have the ability to—(Y/N)?”

She turned, glancing at her sister who was staring out one of the bigger windows, eyes big and round with awe, mouth open slightly; her hands were pressed tight to her stomach. “Sister?” Diana worried, walking back. “Is everything alright?”

(Y/N) glanced at her, ushed tears in her vision. “The world…it is…beautiful.”

Diana’s face eased from concern to warmth as she wrapped her arms around (Y/N), resting her head on her sister’s shoulder. “It is.”

“I never would have believed I would be able to see it in its entirety like this. I am overcome with such emotion.”

“It is love.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Yes. It is.” She reached up and wiped her eyes. “I also have an urge to paint this wondrous masterpiece.”

Diana laughed. “I do not know if the Watchtower could hold the beauty your painting would produce.”

“You flatter me, sister.”

“Nonsense, I speak the truth.” She pulled away, glancing down the hall. “If you will excuse me for just a moment. I need to use the restroom.”

“Of course,” she nodded. “I will wait here for you.”

(Y/N) watched Diana walk off before turning back to the window, stepping up to it; she raised a hand and rested the tips of her fingers on the glass, feeling the chill on her skin. It was absolutely beautiful, the flow of the clouds against the bright blue water, along the green and tan of the lands. Her fingers itched to paint. To create. To weave and design tapestries that would remind her of this moment. All of it.

Someone’s arm fitted around her waist. “Hey Wonder Woman, you look absolutely beautiful in this light.”

She turned her head, seeing a brown-haired man with caramel eyes gazing at her. “Who are you?”

He blinked, eyes widening as he said, “You’re not Wonder Woman. Who are you?”

“My sister and I are two completely different women.” (Y/N) pulled from his grip. “But I asked you first. Speak or I shall drag the truth from you.”

“Is that a promise?” he flirted. “Because I totally have a thing for—NGH!”

His response was cut off by (Y/N) who yanked him forward by the arm and shoved him up against the window, pinning his arms behind him.

“Answer my question!” she shouted, shoving his arms up until he let out a grunt and raised on his toes to keep from feeling the pain.

“Hey! Easy! I need those arms!”

“You will need more than arms if you do not tell me who you are!”

“Hal Jordan!” he shouted. “I’m Green Lantern!”

(Y/N)’s eyes narrowed. “We shall wait for Diana to return to confirm that truth.”

“I’m telling you the truth!”

“And we shall see.”

Footsteps sounded from down the hall and she glanced over, seeing Diana coming down, a man in red and another in blue following.

“Sister!” she called out. “I have apprehended this man! He claims to be the Green Lantern!”

Diana sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “(Y/N)…Hal is.”

She looked at Diana, then to Hal, then back to Diana. “Truly? Him? He looks so…plain though?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed,” he muttered, cheek still smushed up against the glass; he glanced at the man in red. “Hey Barry.”

The man, Barry, snickered. “Having fun, Hal?”

“Oh, you know, this is just another Tuesday night for me.” He wiggled his fingers. “Is that your breastplate, pretty woman? It’s awfully cold. I’d be happy to warm it up for you.”

(Y/N) scowled, stepping away from his hands. “You are absolutely disgusting. Diana you cannot possibly work with such a lecher.”

Diana giggled at Hal’s outcry of offense. “You get used to him, sister.” She waved. “Now please, let him go. You’ll break the poor man’s arms.”

She did as Diana commanded, letting him go and Hal sunk back to the floor, shaking out his arms. “Damn, you’ve got a strong grip, pretty woman.”

“My name is not ‘pretty woman’,” she griped. “I am Princess (Y/N) of Themyscira.”

Hal grinned at her. “Pleasure you meet you, Princess.”

(Y/N)’s lip curled, and she turned her attention to Diana. “Are all men like this?”

“Thankfully, no,” her sister said, placing hands on both Barry and the man in blue’s backs. “May I introduce Barry Allen the Flash and Clark Kent, who is Superman.”

(Y/N)’s disgust fell away to happiness as she stepped up and hugged them both. “It is my honor to meet you both! Diana has talked about all of you in great detail.”

“Has she talked about me?” Hal questioned and she turned her head.

“No.”

“Darn shame. I’m a great conversation topic.”

She looked at Diana. “Is he always this arrogant?”

“No,” she shrugged. “Sometimes he is asleep.”

The sisters laughed whilst Hal pouted, and Barry asked, “Princess (Y/N), would you like to come to the cafeteria and eat some lunch?”

She smiled. “You may call me (Y/N), Barry. But yes, I would like to. That is, if Diana is coming too?”

“I would sister, but Clark was coming to get me for a meeting with Batman.” Diana excused, turning to Superman who nodded.

“We’re discussing some changes to the Watchtower communicators,” he said and (Y/N) merely smiled.

“I understand. We shall meet up later then.” Her eyes drifted to Barry’s. “Are you going with them?”

“Nope,” he said, popping his bottom lip. “Bruce said it was okay for me to skip out. He held out his arm. “May I escort you?”

Laughing, she looped her arm with his. “You may.” As she passed Hal, she held out her free arm. “Are you coming?”

He glanced at her. “I thought you didn’t like me?”

“It is too early to decide such a thing. Do I think you are a lecher? Absolutely. But that is merely my first opinion.” (Y/N) smiled. “I believe you will change it.”

Hal cracked a grin and looped his arm with hers. “See, if you really wanna change it, you should let me take you flying.”

“Oh? Like in a jet? Diana has one,” she chirped, letting the two men lead her down the hall.

“Of course in a jet. See there’s this place in Coast City—”

150 notes · View notes

houndsofcerberus · 3 years

Text

Lament of a Father

Technoblade was a lot of things. In whispers passed along as he walked through the market he was a monster. In quiet reverence after turning the tides of a war he was a hero. In loud jeering after the tides of war had been changed he was a villain. In stories passed between families of a man on trade routes at midnight he was a benevolent spirit, a god even. He held many titles but the one he cherished, the one he would wear like a badge of honour until the day he died? Well he had only worn that one for a year, maybe less. He would never speak of it to anyone, never share that vulnerability to anyone. Except of course for the one who had tenderly taken the title from him. He was eternally grateful and indebted to Philza for what he had done, but chat occasionally disdained him for stopping them.

Tommy, despite looking so much like his dad, despite sharing his blond hair, his sapphire blue eyes full of life and curiosity, was well aware of the fact he was not his biological child. The only biological child his dad had ever had was his older brother Wilbur. Though it was easy to assume the opposite. Wilbur had taken after his mother, who had long since passed, her presence only existing by the picture pinned up on the fridge. She had been gone long before Tommy’s arrival, though his dad often spoke of how it was because of her invisible influence on him that made him take Tommy in. The story Tommy had only ever known was that his parents had left him behind. His brother, jealous of the time and the care his dad seemed to pour into Tommy but give him sparingly, had once told Tommy his parents didn’t want him. Had left him to die in the woods. He had never asked his dad because as far as Tommy was concerned they had. It didn’t matter to him how they had left him, it mattered that they left him at all. It mattered every time he heard the other kids whisper about how Tommy was a bastard child. Unloved. Unwanted. Out of place.

Tommy had been content never meeting his biological parents. That would be fine by him. Philza had been adequate. He had a roof, a home, a bed, food. Despite his brother’s occasional jealousy or the common squabbles between the two he was happy to have his brother. He wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, his parents must have been terrible people to leave him behind like they did.

Tommy stared from behind Wilbur at the stranger in their door whom their dad had been welcoming warmly. Tommy frowned, trying to look past the improvised mask made out of a hoglin skull, wondering if the slight tusks coming from the mans mouth were also not his own. He noted the long pink hair, the way he smelled strongly of blood despite the fact that there was none to be seen on this stranger. Tommy could see a crossbow on his back, a weapon his own dad didn’t wield but he’d seen occasionally used, shown off in weapon shows in town. People around here didn’t use crossbows. He also took note of both the axe and the sword on the man as well. The axe was not the woodcutter’s axe outside, but a battle axe. A mean looking thing, but the soft glow of it was mesmerizing and what little of the blade he could see was sharp, definitely for fighting. The sword was sheathed at the man’s hip, but the hilt he could see under the man’s red cape was ornate, a beautiful gold glinting in the light along with the rest of the man’s jewelry. There was a ruby at the bottom, looking like fire in the candlelight. Tommy froze as he looked back up at the man’s face, making eye contact. He frowned and stuck his tongue out indignantly.

“What’re you lookin at?” He snapped.

Technoblade had to suppress a soft chuckle at that. He was so small, hidden behind his brother, but he said it with such fire in his belly that Techno was half convinced that had he heard it on the battlefield he might have looked away. He looked back at Phil, who smiled fondly.

“Long time no see mate, we should talk,” he said softly.

“We should,” Techno replied, eyes flicking back to Tommy. In that moment though he wasn’t a young man, nor a child. He was an infant, held so tenderly in Techno’s arms.

He remembered the day as if it were yesterday. He had remembered it since it happened, he relived it over and over. Tommy’s mother had died. He wished he had known her longer. They hadn’t been married when Tommy came along, and she had been the opposite of Techno. She hadn’t lived long after Tommy was born. As was Techno’s luck seemed to be. She had known it and she had held the tiny golden haired baby who had her eyes and his father’s smile. So rarely given but a treat to be savoured. The tiny child had squealed and grinned at her once his crying had stopped, his eyes fixed on her until his father gently lifted him from her arms after they had gone limp. Techno had promised many things. But above all he promised that no matter the price their child would live the best life he could live.

Technoblade had spent a little under a year with the title of father. He had cherished every second. He hadn’t believed he wanted to be a father, not until he was. He didn’t believe attachments were a good idea, but he would never regret this. Never. He had named the small child Theseus, he wanted his child bearing the name of a warrior. Of a man who had carried hardship and walked tall yet still. He wanted Theseus to be strong, he wanted the name to fit the man he knew his son would one day be.

He had spent the entire year carefully taking care of the child, despite the voices in his head screaming to rid himself of the danger. The danger someone would use this tiny bundle of giggles and straw blond hair and watery blue eyes against him. They insisted this helpless baby would be his demise. They chanted for blood but Technoblade would not concede. At least for that year. He would hold the child, speak softly of great heroes, of gods and of monsters. He would fall asleep, arms around this tiny life that had been left for him to care for, protecting him. He still believed wholeheartedly it was the best year of his life. The year he had replaced his old titles, the title of monster, of god, of hero, of villain. He would maintain for the rest of his life that father was the only title he would ever want.

“Please Philza,” came the strangled sob as Techno held out the bundled up child. “Please.”The rain had soaked through Techno’s clothing long ago, his hair soaking, though when Philza took the child into his arms he noted that there wasn’t a drop on the sleeping baby.

“Techno, are you sure? This is the greatest gift you could receive, are you positive you want to give it up?” Phil said sadly, looking up at Technoblade, soaked in rain. His crimson eyes were bloodshot and Phil knew his old companion well enough to know he had grown fond of the child he held. Fond enough to weather the storm.

“No. I’m not sure. I don’t want to give him up, if we lived in a perfect world I would never. I would hold him until the world burned around us. But you know damn well why I can’t.” Techno said, looking away, eyes landing on a framed image of Philza, his long gone wife, and his child. Theseus would be safe here. Theseus would be loved. It didn’t matter that Technoblade felt his heart was being ripped from his chest. He had come so close. He wouldn’t risk it again.

“Mate...” Philza said, face falling. “You can’t help it, you know you wouldn’t dare,” he said softly.

“I wouldn’t. They would. They tried. I am not putting him in danger by simply being alive in my presence. Please, please I am begging you. Take him. Take care of him like I can’t. He deserves better than to grow up to fear his own father.” Techno begged, holding back the tears that were stinging his eyes.

“...okay...” Phil agreed, relenting. He offered the bundle back to Techno, offering a moment to say goodbye. Techno took the chance eagerly, holding the child close.

“I love you, more than you could ever understand. You are my heart and soul Theseus. Be a good man,” Techno whispered, the tears he’d been choking back betraying him and falling down his face. “I will always love you.” He added solemnly, taking another look at his sleeping son. So peaceful, so blissfully unaware. He handed Theseus back to Phil. “He gets nightmares, often. He doesn’t sleep well still, but this-“ Techno pulled out a stuffed animal, a simple plush toy his son adored, a stuffed cow, floppy and well loved, handing it to the other. “Warm milk and Henry help him sleep, he prefers to be held though, it makes him feel safe. He doesn’t like to be alone,” Techno rambled. Phil nodded, taking note of everything said until Techno reluctantly took his departure.

Tommy and Wilbur sat outside, pretending to play as they kept an eye on the window, watching the strange man inside talk to their dad. They were sat at the table, their expressions confusing for Tommy. Smiling but...not happy. Their dad had made the two of them tea after shooing the kids outside to play. The grass rippled around Tommy in the breeze as he ripped some of it up and let it fly away in the wind.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Tommy asked, staring at the back of the stranger’s head.

“Dunno. Maybe they’re finally taking you somewhere they’ll teach you to have manners,” Wilbur joked, tossing a dandelion he’d picked at Tommy.

“Shut up, if anything you’re the one who doesn’t behave,” Tommy replied easily, rolling his eyes and tossing the flower right back at Wilbur. Things hadn’t always been so easy between them. Tommy had been treated like he was precious cargo by their dad. Neither knew why, Wilbur didn’t care why. His dad was paying attention to Tommy not him. He didn’t like it. As they got older it got easier but there had once been a time where their ‘fights’ hadn’t been in jest. Where they actually meant it when they said they hated one another. Tommy could still tell Wilbur didn’t like that their dad clearly had a favourite but he no longer blamed Tommy. His relationship with his dad had soured mildly though their dad hadn’t seemed to notice.

“Phil I can’t tell him.”

“He deserves to know. I never told him anything, he’ll start looking one day and if he finds out that I never told him who you were when you were right here? When he could’ve asked questions? He’ll not only never forgive me, he’ll never forgive you.” Phil said. “He’s a stubborn little shit, he got that from you.”

“Phil he’s better off with whatever story he’s come up with in his head. He may not want the answers to the questions he has.” Techno said softly. “No child deserves to know their own father tried to kill them.”

“Techno that wasn’t you and you know it. You’ve gotten a handle on chat now, you’re not the stupid kid who runs headfirst into battle without thought anymore. If what I’ve heard is right he’d be proud. You’ve won multiple tournaments, that’s something he’d find interesting.” Phil said.

“Phil please. You and I both know this won’t last. I’m not a person who stays out of trouble for long.”

“You’re going to regret this.”

“Don’t I always?”

Technoblade’s name had become well known by the siblings after that conversation. Phil hadn’t yet introduced them until years later when Techno showed up for one of Tommy’s birthdays, giving Phil a book and telling him to wait to give it to Tommy. Then came the Pogtopia vs Manberg war. Techno had played a major part in the war though his efforts were wasted once the president of Manberg dropped dead in front of them. Since that day Lmanberg had rebuilt the damage caused by both Wilbur and Techno. Phil had come back. But Techno’s reputation for being ruthless and dangerous hadnt faded. Nor had the knowledge he was a private person. Which is why when he found a certain young man in his house he had been shocked.

“What are you doing in my house?”

Tommy froze, looking up at Techno from where he was still climbing the ladder, head poking out from the hole he thought he’d hidden decently. Tommy tried to scurry back down but Techno caught him by the back of his shirt and easily lifted him off the ladder and set him on the ground.

“Why are you in my house?” He asked again.

“Well...someones clearly woken up on the wrong side of the bed!” Tommy said. “You’ve got to fix that temper big man, or else nobody will want to hang out with you,”

“I don’t want anyone to hang out with me. That’s the entire point. Get out.”

“God this place is ugly. You really should hire a decorator. I know someone who could help y’know, I could call them. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind helping you out. A charity case if you would. She’s great really.” Tommy rambled.

“Theseus.” Techno said firmly. For some reason this was what made Tommy shut up. It sent a chill down his spine and he felt like someone had poured ice water down his back. “Why are you living under my house?” Tommy couldn’t respond. He didn’t know why but the nickname Theseus that Technoblade had given Tommy made him falter every time without fail. Tommy attributed it to the speech Techno had made all that time ago, yelling for him to die like the hero he wished to be. Since then Techno had almost exclusively used that name in their few interactions. Sometimes it would be sternly, fewer times it was affectionate, though the name gained positive meaning the longer Tommy stayed with Technoblade. Techno spent time training Tommy, and soon even just spending time with him. Technoblade taught Tommy how to make his own weapons and how to make them near perfect after realizing how woefully terrible Tommy’s current weapon was, especially for his fighting style.

Tommy had always been mesmerized by the way Techno fought. It was like he was dancing, every movement was muscle memory, every step rehearsed, measured. The way he locked his eyes onto his target but seemed to be oh so aware when eyes were on him. Watching Techno and Philza fight was a real treat. It was like watching a performance. Technoblade had clearly learned from Tommy’s dad, and Tommy wanted to hear the stories of their old adventures, though neither would give up the goods. Phil’s movements were airy, near effortless. Though he lacked the power Techno threw into every swing, and Techno lacked a lot of the effortless grace that Phil seemed to have a birthright to.

Tommy sat, transfixed as he watched his dad’s wings flare out, though unable to carry him now due to the large chunks burned away he still used them, catching himself as Techno shoved him back. Phil had a grin on his face as they sparred, though Techno’s face was as it always seemed to be, stony and unchanging. Tommy could’ve sworn that he saw the smallest glint of excitement in those wine red eyes. Techno had a tendency for nonstop movement, and redirecting his momentum. Techno had said, quite hypocritically, that it was a stupid move however. It took a lot more energy to redirect and change momentum and still have enough power for your hit. Though it seemed that Techno wasn’t lacking in power as the sparks flew between Phil and Techno’s swords, illuminating their faces briefly before being extinguished in the snow. Phil was considered better by many, but for whatever reason Tommy found Phil all too predictable. He liked the unbridled power and erratic movements that Techno made, the way he seemed to keep his eyes fixed on you as you sparred, attention unwavering and unyielding. It was intimidating and Tommy had never wanted to be on the other side of the sword when Techno really meant it.

He had never wanted it. Never wanted this. Lmanberg was crashing around him, exploding constantly, the crater going deeper as the noise of the explosions mixed in with the screaming of the withers. Tommy couldn’t take a breath without the acrid smoke stinging his lungs, couldn’t move without the raging fire below the platform he stood on warming his skin to a near unbearable extent. But somehow nothing hurt him more than the look of pure sorrow and rage in Techno’s eyes as he stood behind the crossbow, firework loaded, ready to kill Tommy. Ready to end him where he stood. Tommy cowered behind it, his voice ever steady despite the tears cleaning trails of soot off his face betraying him.

“Do it.” He said. “Prove me right.”

Techno took a breath and for a moment Tommy thought he was going to actually pull the trigger. He flinched as he heard the click of the trigger, and then the explosion of the firework. But he was fine. He opened his eyes and saw Technoblade reload his crossbow before putting it away. He pulled out his trident and looked up, holding his free hand out as the first raindrops fell.

“We part as we did the first time. I’ll miss you Theseus.” Techno said softly, pulling his arm back before launching into the air with his trident. Though Tommy swore he heard something he couldn’t decipher it over the loud roar of the withers, the pattering of rain, and the ever insistent booming of the explosives digging ever deeper. Tommy stood, rain soaking his hair and washing his face of the soot and ash of the country he once built with his brother. He once took back with his uncle. The country he had staked everything on from the beginning. It was gone. For good now. There was no rebuilding. Tommy exchanged a look with Tubbo, the two of them locking eyes. Neither said a word but they both knew, they both understood that it was over. Dream had won, and Technoblade and Phil had helped. Tommy was surrounded by people but he had never felt more alone in that moment. Not even in exile. And he couldn’t tell you why. Though maybe it had something to do with the red fur trimmed cape he still had hanging up at home and the axe that had once been a gift and was now stolen property in his enderchest.

Techno had stopped paying attention to any and all news regarding Tommy. He told Phil it didn’t matter. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to know. But they both knew he was lying through his teeth. He cared. A great deal. But that was the problem now wasn’t it? He had his son. He had an optimal time to tell him. And he was going to. Until Tommy charged into the community house. And Techno had watched in that moment as Tommy chose the corrupt government that had just prior ordered his execution and had imprisoned Phil. Tommy chose them over Techno, who had once more thought about retrieving the title of father. The title he missed every day of his life since he handed it to Phil.

“Tommy is dead.”

Techno’s blood ran cold. There was no way. No way. Phil turned and stared at Techno. Phil loved Tommy, he had. But they had grown estranged. Techno however? He had been attached to Tommy since the day he showed up under his house. Techno had grown close and lost Tommy but he still cared. He still loved his son. Techno didn’t love many things or people, but his son was one of those things.

Phil relaxed slightly as Techno joked, but he didn’t miss the way Techno rushed through the meeting, the way he bolted out of the room into the ever winding maze outside. Phil said his goodbyes before darting after Techno, going through the halls. He found him leaning against a wall, looking queasy. Phil didn’t even get to Techno before he heard him retch and a splatter. Phil saw him turn and wipe his mouth, face ashen and colourless, he was shaking violently and Phil could see how distant he was. Chat. Again.

“You good mate? Come back to me Techno. We can figure this out. Just breathe,” Phil said. “You’ll be o-“

“Do not finish that sentence.” Techno snapped, glaring at Phil. “He’s dead. I am not going to be okay.” Phil had seen Techno angry many times. But he’d never seen this look. The look of a man with nothing left to lose. It wasn’t even like he was looking at Technoblade anymore, not in the way he knew his beloved friend. It was more like staring a wild boar in the face. A very angry, very hungry wild boar. Phil stepped back, knowing very well he could find his throat ripped from his neck if he chose to move forward.

Techno took many long hours to calm, and by the time he had he was empty. It was like everything had been drained from him. Every ounce of Techno had been ripped out and all that Phil had left was the shell. His heart broke because he knew exactly how it had felt. He knew what it was like. After he lost Wilbur Phil had disappeared into the woods for days, he remembered killing anything that moved, hitting the trees until his knuckles bruised and bled just to feel something other than the all consuming sorrow and despair. Anything to stave off the feeling of emptiness. And it was like that until Techno set off. He said he was going to go train. Except he didn’t come back for what felt like years. Tommy had come to visit. As had Wilbur, newly revived from the dead. And Phil had nearly lost it, so relieved to see his son even if his son wasn’t thrilled to see him. It didn’t matter. Wilbur could tell him a million times that Phil no longer mattered, that he wasn’t family, and Phil would still just be relieved that he was okay. That he was alive.

He saw the way Tommy looked at them. Saw the jealousy in his eyes. He had tried so hard to stop him from feeling that when he was a kid but things were different. Things had changed. They didn’t talk much, they weren’t family like they had been. And Phil wanted Tommy to know he had family. But it wasn’t his story to tell. Not yet.

Techno had come back oh so very briefly, a week maximum. They celebrated his birthday, and Techno received a letter summoning him to the prison. Phil was apprehensive and when Techno didn’t come home that night, or the next day, or the day after that Phil started to worry. He had read the will. He knew the plan. But he didn’t like it. Too many things could go wrong. The next time Tommy visited Phil was a wreck. Tommy did his best to comfort Phil but honestly Tommy was worried too. He knew Techno could handle himself. He knew what Techno was capable of but he also knew what Dream and Sam were capable of.

Phil however was worried about several things. He had faith Techno would be fine, he always was, but… there was a nagging in the back of his brain. He needed to tell Tommy. No matter what he needed to tell him. If Techno died in the prison Tommy should know, and if he got out as planned then Tommy should get to be allowed to know his father. He shouldn’t know before it’s too late, especially when it might already be too late.

“Tommy?”

“Yeah Phil?” Tommy replied, picking up the two mugs he had, each with tea in them. He set one down in front of Phil at the table and sat nearby, looking at him. Phil looked like a fucking wreck. There were deep circles under his eyes, he looked exhausted and he seemed older in that moment than Tommy could ever remember him looking before.

“I need to tell you something. The truth.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it right now, you can tell me later,”

“No. I have to tell you.” Phil said adamantly. He knew if he didn’t say it now he never would. And Tommy might never get to know Techno as his dad instead of a friend or mentor. He wanted Tommy to have a dad. He owed it to him after he had suddenly stopped being one. “I knew your parents. Your mother and father, they were friends of mine. Your mom is… she’s not around…” Phil said quickly. He kept going before Tommy could react. “Your father. He’s a friend. He’s still alive.”

“…what?” Tommy asked, voice quiet.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you? I spent years wondering what the fuck was wrong with me or my parents that they dropped me in the middle of nowhere, why the fuck didn’t you say anything?” Tommy asked, rage and pain clear in his voice. Years of self loathing, of wondering why he wasn’t good enough, why he was abandoned. Why he didn’t get to have a family. Why he didn’t get to know his father at the very least.

“There’s a lot you don’t understand, I wish I could’ve told you but I couldn’t Tommy,” Phil answered.

“There’s a lot that you don’t understand! I’ve been wondering every day of my life why I wasn’t good enough! Why I couldn’t be happy, why I didn’t deserve to have my own family! You had the answers and you just didn’t give them to me!” Tommy yelled, standing up and banging his fist on the table. “Who? How many times have I met my father and you didn’t say a word? How many interactions did I have where you didn’t tell me I could’ve asked him questions? How many times was he right there?” Phil looked down and sighed, shaking his head. He didn’t wanna say it.

“Tommy….” Phil sighed softly, looking at Tommy. He was right to be pissed. Phil knew that. But he wished he wasn’t.

“Tell me! For once in your fucking life be honest Phil! You’ve been lying to me for years, you owe me this! You owe me this cause I died and you didn’t bother to care!” Tommy screamed, tears running down his face. “Owe up to it for once in your life.”

“It’s Technoblade.” Phil choked out. He swore, Tommy almost lunged for his neck to choke him. In that moment he looked so much like his dad. He was so angry. He’d never seen Tommy this angry before, not even on doomsday. Phil would’ve let him strangle him, he’d deserve it. But Tommy didn’t. He slammed his fist into the wall.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He yelled. It was so loud and Phil could hear his voice almost giving out. “He was right here! This whole fucking time! What the fuck is wrong with both of you? You had months, months to tell me!” He screamed, his voice quavering. “You’re both full of shit!” He screamed, turning around and storming out. The door slammed and Phil flinched, hearing the pictures on the wall rattle. He didn’t think it would go this badly. Granted he didn’t know how it would go when he said it. Phil sighed and put his head in his hands. He fucked up. He was gonna regret this.

Techno regretted going into that prison. By the time he got out thanks to the stasis chamber and an ender pearl. He felt himself teleport and stumbled as he found himself in the syndicate’s meeting room. He felt someone grab him and he flinched away.

“Calm down mate, it’s alright, it’s me,” Phil’s voice said softly. Techno looked around confusedly, breathing quickly and seeing it was in fact the syndicate room, not Pandora’s Vault. Phil pulled him along and had him sit down at one of the chairs. “You alright?” Phil asked, stepping back and looking at Techno. He looked like shit. He was thinner, he was pale and shaky. He looked like he didn’t know which way was up. “What the fuck happened in there mate?”

“It sucked. The syndicate has a responsibility to take it down, it’s as corrupt as anything could be.” Techno sighed.

“I can see that mate.”

“They don’t really feed you in there… Tommy was in there wasn’t he?” Techno asked. Phil paled.

“Yeah… he was.” Phil said, sighing. “Listen I…I have to tell you something Techno. It’s about Tommy.”

“Is he okay? Did something happen to him?” Technoblade asked immediately, looking terrified.

“No, no he’s fine. I fucked up though mate. I’m sorry, I told him. I didn’t know whether things would go as planned or not, he deserved to know while you were still alive.” Phil said quickly, not looking at Techno. He heard the other sigh.

“….I suppose we owed it to him. Better sooner than later.” Techno sighed, shaking his head. “How’d he take it?” He asked, looking at Phil and leaning back in the chair with a groan.

“Bad. He was….angry. Angry we didn’t say anything earlier. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so pissed.” Phil replied, sitting on the table. He left out just how much like his father he had looked for that moment. Tommy looked like his mother but he certainly had some of his father in him. Techno’s face had fallen more. Phil hadn’t seen Techno cry in ages, but he looked close. Tears in his eyes that he was too proud to let fall. Techno shook his head as if it would shoo them away and stood.

“He’s not wrong to be angry.” Techno said softly. Phil nodded and walked with him up the staircase to the igloo concealing the entrance. “I was going to tell him. Why didn’t I? I should’ve told him. Things were good. He deserved to have my honesty,” Techno muttered under his breath. Phil opened his mouth to respond before closing it. He had a feeling Techno’s words weren’t for him.

They arrived to their conjoined cabins in silence, and Techno told Phil that they would convene the syndicate later on, and that he was tired. Phil knew it was a lie but he didn’t push, he knew Techno would appreciate him leaving him be more than he would prying. Techno spent a few days in his cabin alone, trying very hard not to be angry with Phil. But who was left if not Phil? He couldn’t be angry at Tommy. Tommy was in the right. Theseus had every right to be pissed, to want nothing to do with him. So the only person left to blame was Technoblade. He spend hours muttering to himself, talking back and forth with chat. Chat seemed to be divided. Half believed it was the better thing to do, to keep it secret, the other said that he should’ve told Tommy ages ago. They weren’t wrong. He had a chance. In Pogtopia he had a chance. Before doomsday, before the community house he had a chance. Tommy had been through hell and back, and Technoblade could’ve prevented it, but he didn’t. His own son died because he had stayed silent. Techno slammed his fist into the wall before letting out a soul shattering scream of frustration. How could he have been so stupid?

Tommy stood outside the houses, staring between the turtle shell helmet in his hands and the cozy inviting cabin he’d once called home. At one point it had been entirely alone, nothing but Carl in his stable outside but now it was busy. The house stood facing Phil’s own cabin, a small pond below the bridges connecting them, beacons shining nearby, Ranboo’s house not so far, a large herd of cows in a pen, polar bears inside and outside the house, a dog kennel and several dogs lounging in and out of it. It was nothing like the desolate and lonely house Tommy had last seen it as. He took a breath and shook his head. Clearly Technoblade was fine. He had Ranboo, Phil, his animals. He wouldn’t be alone. It was a bittersweet thought. On one hand he didn’t want Technoblade to be left entirely alone. He was angry but…Techno had been kind to him. Given him gifts, a home, hidden him. But on the other hand…it felt like Tommy was being abandoned, replaced. Ranboo had taken his spot as Tubbo’s best friend. Hell they were married and raising a child. Now Ranboo was living happily alongside Technoblade and Phil. Tommy wasn’t a fan of the pattern he was seeing. But unfortunately Ranboo was disgustingly pleasant. He considered turning back, maybe even just tossing the shell onto the porch by the door and making a run for it before anybody saw him, but in his moment of hesitation the decision was made for him. Techno closed the door behind him and turned, freezing, bow slung over his shoulder.

“…you weren’t supposed to see me here.” Tommy said hesitantly when he realized Techno wouldn’t say anything first.

“Your helmet,” Techno said, pointing at the turtle shell clenched in Tommy’s hands.

“Yeah. I was going to return it to you.” Tommy said, shrugging awkwardly.

“…why?”

“You know why. Don’t act stupid.” Tommy said glaring at Techno. “You can’t expect me to not be upset after finding out you abandoned me and lied to me my whole life. I know you’re not good with people but you can’t be that stupid.”

“I’m sorry, I know, I was just… you should keep the helmet Theseus-“

“Don’t call me that. Don’t use that stupid fucking nickname!” Tommy yelled.

“…I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t make up for it, but I promise you I didn’t want it to go the way it did.” Techno said, sighing.

“You’d take it back? Fat load of good that does now.”

“No. I’d do the same. Not this part. Not keeping it a secret.”

“Thanks. Makes me feel so much better to know you still don’t want me.” Tommy said sarcastically.

“What? Of course I wanted you.” Techno said, frowning and walking down the steps to stand in front of Tommy.

“Then why did you get rid of me so easily? Why didn’t you want me to know you?” Tommy asked, rage boiling in his chest.

“Giving you to someone else was the hardest thing I ever did. I spent a year as your dad, your first word was papa, you were my heart and soul.” Techno said softly. “I had to give you to someone else. I had to give you a better home Tommy.”

“Why couldn’t you have kept me?” Tommy asked, the venomous tone in his voice dying down slightly.

“Come, I’ll tell you everything. It’s too cold out here and you don’t have a coat,” Techno said, walking back up the stairs. Tommy was going to refuse, but his legs moved automatically, and he followed Techno inside. Techno gestured for him to sit at the table and filled the kettle with water, setting it on the wood stove and pulling out cups. “Usual?” Techno asked, looking over his shoulder. Tommy nodded and watched Techno pull out the sugar and milk. The tea was done quickly and Techno set Tommy’s cup in front of him, sitting across the table from him. “How much do you want to know?” Techno asked after taking a breath.

“Everything. I want you to be honest with me.” Tommy replied curtly.

“Alright. I suppose I should start with your name. Theseus is your actual name, Tommy was a nickname. Your mom called you Tommy, so it stuck.” Techno admitted.

“It…wasn’t just a stupid nickname?”

“No.”

“You have terrible taste in names big man.” Tommy said, a hint of a smile on his face.

“Yeah, you may be right on that,” Techno replied, laughing.

“My mother…what happened?” Tommy asked.

“She died a few hours after you were born. There were some issues, we knew she wasn’t gonna make it weeks before, so she decided that she would just hold you until she went. And she did just that.” Techno sighed. Tommy couldn’t figure out the look on Techno’s face. He seemed to be both sad and happy at the same time. It was odd, he hadn’t seen Techno look like this before.

“Did you love her?”

“Absolutely. The only person I ever loved more is you.” Techno replied easily. “We didn’t get married, but it didn’t matter much to us.”

“What was she like?”

“She was…like you actually. Everything I could only hope to become. She was kind, happy, she was always smiling. She saw the good in everything and everyone, and she stood up for what she believed in regardless of the cost. You look just like her, you have her hair and her eyes. You’re more her than me, that’s a good thing.” Techno said, smiling fondly on the memories of her. He saw so much of her in Tommy and he was unbelievably grateful for it.

“So…why did you give me up then? If you were so happy to have me or whatever?” Tommy asked, not looking at Techno. He heard him sigh deeply and almost retracted the question but decided not to. He had a right to know.

“You know about chat? The voices I hear?” Tommy nodded in response. “Well… sometimes chat is too hard for me to handle. Sometimes they take over. Sometimes they win. And one night they almost did.” Techno reached out and held Tommy’s jaw loosely, thumb running over the scar there. “They almost won and I almost lost you. You deserved a dad who didn’t try to kill you. You deserved a stable family, I didn’t want you to grow up not feeling safe cause I couldn’t control myself. So I gave you to Phil.” Techno pulled away and sighed, leaning back in his seat.

“Did you ever wish you hadn’t?”

“That’s…hard. I wish I didn’t have to. I wish it wasn’t what had been best at that time. I wish I hadn’t needed to do it, but I don’t regret it. I would’ve loved to have been your father for as long as I lived. But I wasn’t about to risk your life for my happiness.” Techno explained.

Tommy had wanted to stay angry. Some pet of him still was, deep down. He still wanted to hit and scream and throw a tantrum, but the other part, the larger, more rational part, the part of him that had been through everything including death and war, felt the anger wash away. He hadn’t been abandoned. He was wanted. He was loved. He was cared for. It had been out of necessity, not because Techno just didn’t want him. Tommy couldn’t remember the scar, or getting it. Some part of him was scared but he remembered doomsday. Techno had a clear chance to kill him. To end it there. But he didn’t. He knew Techno wouldn’t hurt him, even if he was pissed.

“…I died.” Tommy said quietly. He heard Techno draw in a sharp breath.

“I know.”

“Did…did you care?”

“It destroyed me. I almost killed Philza. There’s a grave site on a mountain a few hours from here. I carved the headstone and planted the flowers. I cared.” Techno said quietly. Tommy let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and with it came a river of tears. Sixteen years of anger, frustration, misery, loneliness, isolation, all of it, came rushing out as he nearly choked on his sobs. He wiped at his eyes quickly, trying to stop himself but he couldn’t. He kept sobbing and the tears kept coming. He felt arms wrap around him and let them pull him onto the ground. He leaned into someone, sitting on their lap. It took a few moments for him to realize it was Techno.

Tommy turned and buried his face into his shoulder, sobbing freely into it, soaking Techno’s shirt with tears. He felt Techno gently rubbing his back and quietly mumbling as he kept crying, encouraging him to let it out. It felt like forever before he stopped, head pounding, eyes burning and exhausted. He drew in a deep shaky breath, sitting up again and laughing pitifully.

“This is your fault,” he said lightly, not actually angry.

“I’ll try to stop messing up,” Techno replied, laughing and smiling. He gently brushed the hair in Tommy’s eyes behind his ear and smiled at him. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. I was going to but I just…didn’t.” Techno added, sighing.

“It’s okay…well it’s not but… I forgive you,” Tommy said. He paused for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind if later you were my dad again,” he added tentatively. Techno’s face lit up.

“You mean it?” He asked.

“Yeah…we can try again.” Tommy said, nodding.

“I’ll do better,” Techno said sincerely. He paused and thought. “Can I call you Theseus?” He added.

“Yeah…I’m okay with that. Only you though. It’s a dumb name,” Tommy replied, smiling. Techno laughed and nodded.

“Fair enough. Thank you for giving me another chance kid,” Techno said softly, holding Tommy close to his chest.

“Thank you for wanting to give it a shot,” Tommy answered, letting himself lean into Techno and relax for what felt like the first time in ages. It felt like home.

https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/32077654

170 notes · View notes

gyuluster · 4 years

Text

the prince and the jackal | {f}

collab oneshot | fantasy! au | 11.8k words

“Because the prince of the earth can make you fall not only for nature, but the boy who rules over it.”

s u m m a r y : in the Kingdom of Terrae, you, a metalbender, believe in the deforestation to modernise the land. As a member of the Lumberjackals, you thrive on cutting down trees and stealing resources until you get caught by the Crown Prince, Choi Beomgyu, a lover and embodiment of the nature you wish to destroy. However, instead of imprisoning you for your crimes, Beomgyu decides to show you the beauty and wonders of nature, leaving you to doubt your beliefs, your identity, and your very feelings for the certain boy determined to change you for the better.

w a r n i n g s : prince! beomgyu, woodcutter! metalbender! reader, reader hates wildlife and all things nature, beomgyu is sunshine and flowers and everything good, shit ton of wildlife and fantasy stuff, bts kim line are part of the lumberjackals so are evil in this story i am so sorry y’all, beomgyu has a pet squirrel called jisung yes han jisung, kind of enemies to lovers not really but im pretending it is

p l a y l i s t : fairy of shampoo by txt | colours of the wind by judy kuhn | willow by taylor swift

a u t h o r ‘ s n o t e : yes i am back from the dead to bring this fic hello!! this is a collab with @soobmint @juunnies @bffsoobin @honeyju pls do read their parts too they’re so sexc <3 do lemme know what you all think and thank you for reading!!

back to collab masterlist

back to my masterlist

“And this prayer I make, Knowing that Nature never did betray The heart that loved her.” — William Wordsworth, Tintern Abbey, 1798.

“ONE MORE BLOODY TREE, AND I’LL SCREAM THIS FOREST DOWN!”

You ignored the complaints of your comrades, trekking deeper into the forest.

The sun was nearly drowned out by the towering shade of the surrounding trees, and there remained a constant buzz of the animals, either scurrying away or chirping in the skies. The cut up logs strapped on your back was a huge burden, and slowed your steps as you trudged onto the muddied pathways, staining your boots.

“_____, how much longer until we go to the markets?” one of the men asked, exhaustion clear in his voice.

“Just a few more logs, Tae,” one of the woodcutters, Seokjin, answered, casting a side-ways glance at you.

“But we’ve already got so many!” the former whined, pointing to the goods over their shoulders. “We can make decent money today!”

Unsheathing your sword, you cut away at the vines in your path, masking your sight ahead. It must be here somewhere, you thought, eyes darting sharply to every flower and bush. It has to be.

“Haven’t you fools understood already?” a snarl resonated from the group. Your horse trotted past you as Namjoon, sat on top, brought out his machete, brutally slicing the branches of the towering trees. “The wood we’ve got won’t last us all year!”

His eyes blazed with a certain greed as he looked over you all. “We must find the Tree of Life,” he declared, strolling past you, cutting down the path. “One strip of its bark could bring us a fortune.”

You listened to his statements with raised brows, following in his steps. In truth, none of you had ever seen the Tree of Life. No one in the kingdom had for centuries — it had become something of a myth, a legend passed down from every earthbender to child of its origins, and its significance. You didn’t know the great specifics, but the whole group knew that if they were to obtain even a twig from the great tree, it could grant them millions worth of gold.

And that was something the Lumberjackals desired more than the wellbeing of an omnipotent tree.

Soon, the search progressed, your group cutting down a few Ebonies for its useful properties, but there was no heavenly legend welcoming you in all its finery. The sun was descending on the horizon, and although Spring was present, you were situated in the part of the forest where the gusts of the Ice Kingdom blew consistently in your direction. The cold was about to descend, and you were far from your home in the Metallum villages.

Taehyung, the youngest of the Kim brothers, held onto a nearby oak, all strength leaving him. “I don’t know about you, but I am not travelling any further.” He glared daggers at Namjoon, who showed no signs of stopping. “I’m setting camp here, and you can do nothing to stop me.”

Seokjin joined his youngest sibling, collapsing on the patch of grass beside the gathering of flowers as he shrugged off his work of the logs. “I vote a little rest, even if Joon does not understand its meaning.”

The said-man let out a scoff at those words. “You both are just bloody lazy!” He turned to you, eyes pinning you where you stood. “You’ll keep searching with me, right?”

You agreed, but when you saw the fatigue in your leader’s gaze you grabbed the reins from his horse, stepping beside him. “You need sleep, Joon,” you said, concern in your eyes. “I’ll do another search. You three stay here.”

Namjoon held your stare for a moment before swiping his leg over the back of the horse, jumping off. He handed you the reins fully. “Come back after dawn. Us three will take over from you.”

You had a right mind to challenge the amount of time he was making you explore, but you kept your mouth shut, heaving onto the animal. Dumping your logs of wood upon the ground, you dipped your head in farewell to the Kim brothers. “I will see you in the morning, boys.”

Taehyung waving excitedly as he set up camp, Seokjin going straight to bed upon his blankets, and Namjoon’s stare cold yet understanding, you cracked the reins as the horse began to gallop away from the oaklands, and deeper into the forest.

The moon barely lit the way as you delved deeper into the trees, the sounds of nature turning sinister as the owls began to hauntingly hoot, and the wildcats began to purr. You kept your sword close, in your hand as the other steadied your horse.

You let out a hard sigh as you commenced your searching. Sometimes, only when you were alone, you wished that Namjoon would snap out of his delusions. There was no Tree of Life, no invaluable source of fortune which would challenge the earthbenders and start their industrialisation. In truth, you only wished for a life more than just cutting down wood, but your leader’s promises could be much too enticing.

Perhaps he was right. Maybe with the metalisation of Regna Terrae the metalbenders would be able to progress. It was not like the Kingdom cared for the likes of you, nor the nature which brought you to existence.

Stupid, damned forest. What good had it ever done you?

Suddenly, you heard the harsh snapping of the twigs which wasn’t from your horse. In an instant you halted, pulling the reins as your eyes darted to every corner of the dark forest.

Silence.

You furrowed your brows.

The forest cannot be trusted. Even its silences were sinister and misleading.

Slowly, you got off your horse, tying the reins to a nearby tree. “Keep still, Aurum,” you whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

Patting the mane, you turned and followed in the direction of where the sound was heard, every step quiet and cautious. There was little light, you having to rely on your ears alone, and the hands which touched trunk from trunk. In moments like these, you wished you possessed a more useful power than mere metal manipulation — firebending would have been nice, but you supposed that luck had never been in your favour.

Seething, you held onto your sword tighter, sending a little rush of power from your fingers as it sharpened the steel. No one tailing you would survive in your hands.

You then heard a little sigh, and whipped your head to the direction. Gritting your teeth, you rushed to the place of the origins, anger rising. Swiping away the branches in your path, your boots were the only sound among the quiet hush of the forest, along with the slicing of your weapon. Whoever was toying with you will not leave your wrath.

Swiping away the plants, you finally found an opening of grass among the trees. Squinting, your anger surged to find a distant figure standing before you, all masked in shadows from the lack of light within your surroundings. It stood statue-still, matching your deathly quietness.

But the figure did not seem like it offered death. Nor anything so dangerous as you promised.

“Come out!” you shouted, taking a step forward. “I know you were following me!”

No response.

“Scared, are you?!” Another hesitant step. “As you should be!”

Still, only silence answered, and the soft crunch of the leaves underneath your boots. You took a deep breath, shining your sword from the moonlight. A scoff emitted from you, nerves disappearing. This should be easy.

With an aggravated roar, swinging your weapon, you thundered towards the figure.

You rushed into the moonlight pooling onto the grass, eyes intent with damage as you willed iron-like power from your veins, and into your hands, swirling around the fuller of your sword until it reached its tip, ready to burst onto the figure.

It was then the shadows moved.

A flick of his hand. A soft glow within the darkness.

And all of nature followed suit.

You were taken aback as the thousands of vines circulating the surrounding trees unwrapped themselves from their trunks, and snapped towards you in thundering speed. You had no time to take in their stems swirling around your feet, cutting off your run towards this certain figure. A gasp escaping, you were pulled back by the impact, and let out a further scream as you began to fall flat on your face. Then, even more shock reverberated through you as your feet were pulled upwards, shooting your body up until you were suspended from a tree branch, your one foot wrapped tightly in the vines.

Your world all upside down, you shook your head vigorously, feeling the strain of your one leg under complete control of the tree. The thrum of powerful magic of nature resonated through your body, ceasing you from moving your free leg and kicking any potential passerbys.

Craning your head backwards, you saw with horror that your sword was clattered upon the ground, too far away to reach from the air. Straining your hand towards the grass, you willed your magnetic force, trying to lure your weapon into your hand.

The sword would have ended up in your grasp if another surge of the same natural magic did not break its path, sending it back on the earth.

Enraged, you looked out to the dark, sight distorted. “Gods, just come out already!” you screamed, swinging slightly by your sheer force. “Stop hiding in the damned shadows!”

There was a flutter of little animals coming out from the shadows. “Ha!” you spat, reaching for the dark. “Only sending a few creatures to scare me? You’re going to have to work harder than that!”

When there was another round of silence, you laughed harshly to yourself. “That’s what I thought.”

This time, however, you were not greeted by their usual, quiet answer.

More vines slithered down your frame, pushing your hands together. You gritted your teeth as the gnarly weeds tightened around your wrists, stopping yourself from using your hands.

Glaring daggers at the darkness ahead, you spat at the ground. “Show yourself!” you roared.

Your threats were answered.

Responded in an unimaginable way as the figure stepped into the moonlight.

You could not suppress your reaction.

The most enchanting boy you had ever seen revealed himself from the shadows. You could clearly see him from the light, the soft, child-like features amplified by his undoubted beauty — his mahogany locks curled around his face, cascading over his forehead. His gentle eyes promised great amusement, more so when they landed upon you, a ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. He was adorned in a fine green gown, few assortments strapped on his belt as leather boots, etched in ink, covered his feet. A crown of flowers and leaves settled in his curls, emitting its own, fantastical glow among the darkness.

The smile curved wider at your widened eyes. “Why so speechless now, my lady?”

By all the gods. Even his voice sounded like the sweetest honey in all the hives.

“I have come before you, now,” he continued, deeply amused by your bewilderment. “I have stopped hiding in those damned shadows, as you said.

“Where is your anger?”

Well, that seemed to bring your rage all back.

“It’s still here, you bastard!” you hissed, struggling in the rope-like vines as you tried to swipe your hand across his face. He merely took a step back, completely out of your range.

“Even without a weapon you are a force to be reckoned with,” the mysterious boy voiced out, raising his fingers as magic sparked from the tips. Instantly the vines encircled your arms, pinning them to your sides as the weeds wrapped around you completely. You were like a human-sized caterpillar, cocooned in vines except you would not turn into a butterfly and rush away into the forest.

This nuisance before you would make sure of that.

A satisfied hum escaped him. “There we go,” he said. “Now you won’t be of any danger.”

“Who even are you?” you demanded, glaring daggers at the sight before you. Terrible shame that the sight was something you wouldn’t mind witnessing for the rest of your life. Even if it was upside down.

A hint of surprise exposed upon his features. “Oh, this is amusing, indeed.”

He took a step towards you, you catching the faint scent of...flowers and trees and fruit and honey. You couldn’t really figure out a perfect essence — if nature had a scent, then this boy embodied it. “I am surprised you know not of me when you wish to destroy what I own.”

You raised a brow, at eye level with him, despite the loopy image.

Then, the gears in your head turned, and you were struck hard with the realisation.

When you wish to destroy what I own.

“Oh gods,” you slipped out.

The boy smiled.

No, not just the boy.

The Prince of Regna Terrae — the heir to the Earth Kingdom.

Choi Beomgyu.

Maybe this explained his otherworldly beauty. Crown princes of the earth kingdoms were known to be blessed by nature, so adorned the finest features known to man. Standing before you now, you cursed yourself for not seeing it before.

And cursed yourself again for cursing at him. Multiple times.

Beomgyu saw your eyes moving a mile a second and spluttered out a soft laugh, raising a finger so you focused on him. “I am glad you have figured out my identity. Now we both know what we are.”

His next words did not possess much hilarity. “I, a prince, and you, a Lumberjackal.”

The declaration had you gulping. There’s no escaping this.

He was not wrong in the slightest — you were a part of the Lumberjackals — a group dedicated to industrialising the Earth Kingdom, and giving it a head start from the other kingdoms who did not possess the natural resources that this land contained. You prided on deforestation, the cutting of wood and, even to a certain extent, the consumption of animals. Although you never participated in the last activity out of pure shame, you knew the Kim brothers certainly did, and enjoyed it to great extent.

“Do you deny it?”

You tried to look away, but his gaze was a little too intense. Even if it was reversed. “I do not.”

“And what do you have to say for yourself?” he got out, and you could hear the pain in his voice. Could you even blame him? You destroyed what he held so dear.

Still. You were a metalbender. The desire for modernisation is in your very blood.

“I do what I must do, your Highness,” you grit out, struggling in your weedy cocoon. “It is the only way we survive.

“And I will not stop.”

The boy’s eyes widened a fraction, in pure disbelief. He could not comprehend this — how could one be so against the idea of nature? How could anyone be so resolute in the decimation of what they survived on?

Prince Beomgyu cocked his head, pursing his lips.

How could one hate a deity he considered so beautiful?

He said so himself.

“How?”

You blinked.

The boy continued. “How can you hate nature?”

His question took you by surprise — you did not really know the answer yourself.

It was not like you despised the earth in all its natural form. Sure, it brought you the air you breathed, the food you ate, and the water you drank. But what else had nature given you?

You soured upon seeing the Prince’s face. You did not possess the powers other Terrae citizens were gifted with. Your branch of magic was hard, unforgiving. Simply a practicality, only useful for finding resources and making weapons.

Where were your subservient vines? Where was your natural greatness?

With this in mind, you mustered up the most brutal expression you could offer to the boy before you.

“Because nature was not kind to the likes of me. So I shall not be kind to it either.”

This time, the Prince’s eyes widened even further, afraid they would pop right out of their sockets.

Once again, his mind was in a twist — how had his dearest accomplice, his most cherished friend, been unforgiving to his subjects? He would never consider himself sheltered, but this was something quite unheard of in his kingdom.

“I know you do not believe me, but this is the only explanation I can offer.” You paused, accepting your fate. “Untie me already so you can send me to prison.”

You felt something swirl beneath the boy’s brown eyes, irises sparkling with wonderment. His voice was soft, if not lost within his own thoughts.

“I believe you, jackal,” he said. With a final step towards you, he left little distance between the two of you, eyes at level with yours as you hung from the tree. “But I cannot be satisfied with it.”

Another blink, taken aback by his declaration. “Well...well, what am I supposed to do about it?”

Shocking you further, he curled a little smile upon his lips. “Well,” he started, and as the smile began to widen further, he knew just what to do.

No, he was certainly not satisfied with her accepted hatred.

“We can start by changing that.”

It was your turn for your pupils to dilate. Gods above. This boy seems one chop away from a stump.

“What do you mean?” you demanded, but the boy was already turning on his heel, looking to the surroundings. He fell to his knees, feeling the ground beneath him with his hands. “Your Highness, what are you doing?!”

He did not deem to answer your question, only counter it with his own. “Do you have a horse nearby?”

You looked at him, surprised he figured it out by merely touching the grass. “Yes, but…”

It seemed that he did not need to hear any more, as he brought a hand out, fingers stretching. A tendril of green power burst from his palm, snaking through the dark air beyond your peripheral vision. The Prince was focused on his conjury, and you wondered what in Terrae he was trying to do.

Then, you heard a distant neighing, and found Aurum following the green trail of his magic, eyes glowing slightly.

You tried to escape the tight cage of the vines. “Gods, what are you doing with my horse?!” you exclaimed. “She hates strangers!”

The magic disappeared, along with the glow in her eyes. You could tell she was confused at her surroundings, about to raise her hind legs at the boy who spelled her. “She’ll kill you!” you warned, bracing yourself to witness the death of a prince.

It was then Beomgyu stepped towards the horse, gaze sparkling with kindness.

His hand touched Aurum’s face.

With no small amount of shock, you watched as the boy whispered to your horse, stroking her muzzle. You had never seen her be so friendly to any human she’s made contact with — by Terrae, she even deigned to show attitude to you, who had fed and groomed her since she was a mere pony. How was she sweetening up to someone she had just seen?

Maybe she’s still under a spell, you thought with malice, but then a more honest thought came to mind, and it only made you angrier.

Or perhaps animals can be just as enchanted with him as humans can.

“What are you talking to her for?” you interrupted them, letting out an aggravated groan as the cocoon engulfed you tighter. “You’re sharing words with her as if she’d spread them!”

Beomgyu slid his eyes upward to you. “I was just asking Aurum if she’d like to have an apple.”

“No, I’ll give her one myself—” you tried to say, but then stopped short. “Wait. How do you know her name?”

He looked at you as if you had asked the most ridiculous question. “Because she just told me.”

You stopped struggling in the cocoon. “What did you just say? Aurum told you?”

Hands never ceasing his comforting upon the horse, he raised a quizzical brow. “Pardon me, jackal, but do you mean to tell me that you...you cannot talk to animals?”

Maybe you were not wrong to think the heir of the Earth Kingdom absolutely crazy.

He gestured to the world around you both. “Can you not sense each and every creature nearby? Can you not hear their heartbeats, in sync to their purrs and murmurs?

“Can you not hear the very trees breathe around you?”

You did not know what to say. Perhaps you did not understand his words, what he really meant by a tree breathing. Was that even possible? You thought it unimaginable.

So you offered him the only thing that remained in your mind.

“I have never felt these things.”

The hand upon Aurum’s nuzzle paused, unable to accept the statement which you offered him.

His suspicions were confirmed. Your hatred of nature and all the beings which it birthed had rid you of your powers.

He had seen this before — lost souls who had done grave wrongdoings to the earth, and as a consequence, their very instincts were snatched, right down to the basics. There was no shortage of Lumberjackals in the palace dungeons, and upon closer inspection, he saw that these woodcutters felt no connection to their surroundings. It broke his heart seeing the lack of attachment, the lack of desire for exploration and yearning for their powers, but he knew it could not be helped.

Whoever crosses nature would not be forgiven.

Still, when he inspected the confused, tired gaze of yours, searching him for any suspected lunacy, he just knew that he could not toss you in another old cell. This plan he had in mind could not occur through rotting in one place for the rest of your life.

“Worry not then, jackal.” He raised his hand, magic blooming from his palm. “I am going to change that.”

Whispering to your horse, he listened for a soft neigh before heaving atop her back, hissing at the reins and other controls tying her down. You watched with slight fear. “W-wait a minute,” you started, trying to squeeze out of the vines, but with no luck. “You’re not going to just leave me here, are you?”

Patting Aurum’s mane, he voiced out calmly, “I wish with my whole heart, but then my plan will not work.”

You pursed your lips, watching his eyes sparkle with mischief. “If you were not a prince, I would have cursed you.”

With a flick of his hand, a rush of magic travelled to your cocoon; you felt yourself turning on your front, hovering you upright as the power gravitated you back on the ground, loosening the vines.

“Not like that has stopped you before,” he merely countered as he observed you shrug off weeds in slight humiliation. “Now get on. We have somewhere to be.”

He waited a moment, sighing when you would not oblige. “Is something the matter?”

You wanted to say yes — gods, you wanted to scream at him to get off Aurum, leave you alone and let you cut trees in peace, but of course, that would be an impossible route to take. You still had no inkling of why the Prince of your kingdom was having mercy on you, and you would be quite the fool to exploit it foolishly.

With gritted teeth, you kept your complaints behind your tongue as you brought your foot on the stirrup, heaving upwards as you brought your leg to the other side, settling upon the horse. “Now,” Beomgyu began, looking over his shoulder. “There is no need to be shy. You may put your hands around me as the horse goes fast—”

“I shall be completely fine, thank you,” you interrupted him, brows furrowed. What was this prince even doing? You wondered whether he was a fraud. With that power you witnessed, though, you highly doubted it.

And his features. There is no way a commoner could possess such enchanting beauty.

Flustered, you soured even further.

“Are you ready, jackal?”

You grunted out a yes, which was enough for the boy to command Aurum to start.

The horse, against your expectation, began galloping much faster, and with a yelp you were nearly sent flying out of the seat. Your hands, on instinct, wrapped around Beomgyu’s waist, and when you realised what you had done you cursed yourself for obliging him.

You could almost hear his grin. “I told you!” he exclaimed over the noise of hooves clattering against the rocky mud.

If only you could slap the heirs of kingdoms. “Just take me where you have in mind!” you barked back. “I need to be back to Metallum at dawn.”

“That will be just enough!”

The horse swept past more trees, animals scurrying from your path as the moon lit the dim forest path. You held onto the prince for dear life, refusing to acknowledge the hard surface beneath his silk, his ethereal warmth radiating onto you.

“Hey, jackal?”

A sigh. “Yes?”

“Your horse’s name.” A pause. “Aurum.”

You looked to the trees whooshing past your vision. “What of it?”

Beomgyu whispered for the animal to slow down, scanning his surroundings for his destination. “’Gold’. A very ingenious name.”

He glanced at your irritated face, and smiled. “My mare is called Argenti.”

Your mouth parted at the little revelation.

Argenti. Silver.

Before you could say more on the matter, the boy stopped the horse, cooing at her and praising her for helping him. Swinging his leg over, he jumped off the horse gracefully. He fixed his flower crown before turning to face you, falling rather awkwardly on the grass.

A small laugh escaping him, you daggered him with your gaze as you stepped beside him, a hand on Aurum. Your stare lingered as he took a circle turn of the surroundings, moon almost winking at him as it journeyed in the blanket of night. After a while, Beomgyu pointed to the tree nearby you, stepping past you to palm its trunk. “Here we go.”

Fingers stretching, magic spluttered as it swirled into the thick expanse of the leaves, nearly covering the sky with their excess. The matter squeezed through, and brought out the hidden vines, tumbling down till they reached the roots. Grabbing onto the plants, the prince turned his head towards you, an offer in his eyes.

You hated how you understood exactly what he meant. “I am not going up with you,” you retorted.

“It’s my arms or the dungeon.”

Gulping, you swallowed down your irritation for him. Taking a step towards him, you maintained a safe distance as you made sure he was aware of your distaste. “Just get us up already.” Damn the gods for making him so aggravatingly beautiful, you thought shamelessly as you looked at him. “Your Highness.”

Perhaps he knew, for the little smile was back, wrapping his arm around your waist, and pulling you close. “That’s more like it,” he murmured out before willing his magic into motion.

Your breathing hitched as you were pulled rapidly upward by the vines, breaking through the surface of the leaves. You closed your eyes, feeling the scraping of the branches against your clothes until you felt yourself still, listening only to the deep breaths of the prince beside you. His hand was still snaked at your side.

“Open your eyes, jackal.”

Somehow, on instinct, you obliged.

And widened them further.

You were in another world entirely — the branches expanded beyond your vision, intertwining with the others from different trees, so intricately interlinked beneath your feet that they created a floor. Upon this branching surface there was a little room, decorated with every unusual object that one could identify. Beside the bed, interwoven by these branches, you saw an abundance of flowers and leaves, an lamp of glowing fireflies resting in the corner, and a thousand other items which needed further explanation.

Judging by the awe on your face, the boy answered you, heading to the small cabinet where everything was placed. “A collection of gadgets,” he began, using his magic to separate every object. “That I’ve bought or been gifted since my princedom.” He took out a few unrecognisable things and strolled to the wardrobe, made from the same intertwining branches, and opened the doors, rummaging through.

“What are you even looking for?” you asked, but were dutifully ignored as he kept searching. You admired the intricate scenery, the plush excess of leaves beneath your shoes, shielding you and the prince nearby.

You heard him let out a satisfied ah! as he closed the doors shut. He walked over to you, showing you the rather odd object — it was an unusually large ice cube, miniscule snowflakes etched onto its every side as it orbited slowly in Beomgyu’s hand.

Your curious gaze upon the gadget had him into explanation. “A present from the Ice Prince,” he said, admiring the cold gift in his palms. “It provides an infinite water supply, so is incredibly useful for long journeys.”

“Taehyun, is he not called?” You shivered at the thought. “I am shocked to think he is capable of such small kindnesses.”

Beomgyu slid his eyes to yours. “Taehyun is not the man that his subjects have painted him to be.” His irises swirled in an indecipherable emotion. “Sometimes, one cannot judge the character of another simply based on rumour alone. Only with having conversation can one truly have an honest opinion.”

A small part of you wondered if he truly meant that for Taehyun, or to you, another villain in the Earth Kingdom’s millennia-old tale. Whatever it may be, you looked away, wondering when you’d be able to leave the prince’s presence.

“Right,” you heard him say, pocketing the other unknown object in his breast pocket of his gown. “Let us go on ground once more.”

The boy was about to tug on the vines again when he was interrupted by a most unusual sound.

Well, not unusual, considering you were situated in a tree house, but the noise was so shrill you instantly looked down to its origin.

Before you was a little squirrel, cheeks puffed as its little hands perched on its sides. Its soft tail moved rapidly behind its body, indicating irritation.

Its small, black eyes were fixated upon the boy beside you. Letting out yet another squeak, you saw Beomgyu sigh out in exasperation, as if he had just remembered an important matter.

“Oh gods, I do apologise!” He exclaimed, falling to his knees as he held his free hand out, the other holding the hovering ice cube still. “I’m afraid I cannot feed you now, but would you be able to wait?”

The squirrel let out another squeak, and this time the prince flinched. You gawked at the scene — so not only can he command the trees, but he could talk to animals?

What can this boy not do?

“Ji, I am sorry!” Fishing out an acorn from his breast pocket, he offered it before him. “I have one, if it helps! I promise to feed you properly after I am done with a certain task.”

Even so, the animal seemed much unimpressed. It then turned its little head to you, and you could have sworn that its eyes judged your very soul.

It squeaked some more, and this time Beomgyu widened his eyes, cheeks flushing. “By Mother Nature, no!” He bellowed out, panicked eyes fleeting towards you. “No, I just met her today.”

“Are you talking about me?” You asked, raising a brow. The squirrel then made another sound, one you could not decipher but, judging from the boy’s reaction, could definitely take a wild guess. “By gods, is this creature mocking me?”

You were rewarded with further squeaking, but was instantly silenced by Beomgyu. “Ji, no! I cannot have you being sarcastic tonight. Save your grievances for tomorrow morning!”

And as the prince scooped the squirrel in his hand, he walked over to the bed, settling it on the sheets. “Stay here. I will be back.”

There was sure to be complaints, but the boy kept sending looks of apology as he stepped back to the edge of the exit, tugging on the vines. “Deeply sorry for Jisung’s behaviour,” he said, swirling the cube slowly. “He is grumpier tonight as I have not fed him this evening.”

“A pet squirrel, huh?” You interrogated, looking down to the grass below. “And one you can talk to? Is that how you could communicate with Aurum?”

Nodding, the prince held his arm out. “Are we ready?”

You hurrying my shook your head. “Not again!” You crossed your arms. “I’ll slide down myself. Without your help.”

Shrugging, the boy held on tighter to the vine. “Your wish, jackal,” he said, and jumped down. Perking up, you squatted down to see him descend smoothly down the tree, landing perfectly on the grass.

Grabbing onto the plant, you looked back to the grumpy pet, stuffing the acorn in his mouth.

He then stuck his tongue out, and you gasped at the audacity. “Rude!” You shouted, but we’re only answered with shrill squeaking. Ignoring the creature, you took the vine by both hands, and followed suit.

Your descent was much less graceful, landing instead on your backside. You were met with the huffed laughter of the prince, and you forced down the urge to beat him with his stupid flower crown. Or perhaps tie these vines around his neck and strangle him.

No, that would only result in him using his silly magic. Awful, attractive bastard.

“What are we doing now, Highness?” You wondered out loud, rubbing your sore backside. “Do tell me there is some use of your rather odd ice cube.”

Beomgyu, after strolling further into the woods, slowed himself for you to catch up. “There is some use, unfortunately for you.” He waved you over, stepping past the wild bushes in his path. “Follow me, jackal!” he called out to you.

Grudgingly, you did as he asked, hugging yourself from the cold breeze of the midnight, wondering where in Terrae he was trying to take you. The trees towered over you like intimidating strangers — if the prince spoke true, then you wouldtuly be unwelcome.

You were surrounded by this coercion until the forest opened up to an open grassland, encircled by the nature which looked down at you. Beomgyu turned to you, bringing out a few seeds from his trouser pockets and standing right in the middle of the circle.

“There you are,” he said as you stepped beside him. He glanced at the moon, measuring the amount of time he had left.

“What are you going to do?” you asked him, still clueless regarding the whole situation. Why has he not sent you to the dungeons already?

His eyes travelled to your face. With a half-soft scoff, he held out his hand, the seeds now in perfect view. “It is not what I’m going to do,” he began. “It is what you are going to do.”

The confusion grew within you. “What do you mean?” you tried to clarify. “What am I to do with these seeds?”

Beomgyu’s eyes promised answers. “Bring out your hand, jackal.”

You did as you were told, holding out your hand as he put the seeds in your palm, fingers barely brushing against your skin. He then descended, knees upon the grass as he patted to the space beside you. “Come, sit.”

Pursing your lips in thought, you knelt before the grass, seeds in your enclosed fist as your gaze never strayed from the boy. “Your Highness—”

Magic oozing from his fingers interrupted your demand, slipping into the earth. Slowly, but surely, a small hole was separated by the green matter, dirt being shovelled to create a dip in the grassland.

Once he ceased his conjuring, he jerked his head towards the new opening. “Place the seeds in the hole,” he instructed. “Gently now! Treat them with the utmost care.”

Grumbling in response, you leaned forward as you gingerly put each seed at the corners of the muddy dip, noticing a small spark with each placement of the grain. It was a bizarre feeling, but assumed it normal in the ways of gardening as you inserted the dirt over them, covering them fully.

You peered at the prince then, who brought out the large ice cube. Turning it rapidly, treacle of water dripped down to the ground, moistening the earth and feeding the seeds of its necessities. Putting the gadget back in his storage belt, he then returned his hand upon the damp mound, closing his eyes in a fixated peace. More magic swirled from his hands, but this time it encircled not only the place where you had placed the seeds, but you, all of you, engulfing you in its otherworldly warmth.

“Your Highness?” You whispered out, but he was murmuring, murmuring words you could not comprehend, words which felt like you were not meant to hear. His curls were being lifted slightly with the tendrils of his power, but he stayed rooted to his spot, carrying on with what you feared was a grotesque ritual.

You, too, became still when you felt fingers curl around your hand.

On instinct you looked at him, eyes widening — you should have expected his hand to radiate some form of heat, considering this boy had such an unusual glow about him, but this…

Despite the soft chaos around the two of you, the touch was oddly comforting.

His hand, dragging you out of your thoughts, led yours to the place you sowed the little grains of life, and spread apart your fingers till they covered nearly the entire, dug up earth. More matter escaped from his fingers, shooting further warmth upon the back of your hand, and travelling up to your heart.

“Close your eyes, jackal,” you heard him chant from his cocoon of magic. “I need you to see from within.”

“See what?!” You beseeched, but his fingers held onto you a little tighter, and, as if he commanded your very body, had your eyelids descend shut, cornering you into the chambers of your mind.

See from within.

What could you see?

Darkness. Eternal darkness, and rusted iron, spilled mercury, and all the grim faces of the people who wanted to decimate the very place you knelt in.

I cannot see! You screamed in your mind, because in the whirlwind of his power you felt alone, trapped in your own mind, trying to join in on a ritual which would cursed the likes of you.

But in reality, you were not alone.

No, not when you felt something foreign in your body.

You swore you stopped breathing.

Your fingers felt squeezed by another, but was ignored because you could see a whole other heartbeat which was not your own.

A familiar voice entered your mind.

“Do you see it?”

The prince’s voice; the soft, almost desperate inquiry, which you could not help but answer.

“Yes...yes, by Terrae, I do see it.”

And perhaps he said some more, but you were not listening to his words. His speech seemed a little insignificant to the little heartbeat — it was as faint as the scent of departure, delicate as a snowflake, and as real as yourself, the prince, and the neverending forest.

When you tried to lift your hand, Beomgyu’s fingers halted you still. You could not believe that you did not mind it. “Whose...whose is it, your Highness?”

You were positive that he did not hear you with the lack of volume you let slide from your tongue. However, he answered your question, almost feeling the joy radiating from his response.

“The seeds.”

Shocked, you opened your eyes, and found the Prince of Earth staring at you with an elevated joy. He gestured to observe your creation, and when your eyes fell upon the sliver of a stem which broke through the earth, between the spaces of your fingers, you wondered whether this was all a dream.

You could not help the curse which escaped you. The boy beside you spluttered into laughter, and you turned to see his face radiating with elation. The heartbeat, the one which you thought was under your control, proved you wrong as it skipped its beat along to his laughs.

“Wh-what are you laughing at?” You demanded, but you were unable to execute it with the anger you wish you held for him. He offered you a honeypot of smiles.

“You’ve brought life to the forest, sweet jackal.”

The little plant shivered in response, along with your own hairs at the back of your neck, which stood at his announcement. Its faint heartbeat grew louder, as well as your own in your ears.

“Do you feel it now?” he whispered, leaning ever so close as he looked to the forest around you. “Do you feel the trees breathing in your presence?”

Unfortunately, although you could sense your plant’s essence, the heartbeats of every tree in the forest were still unheard. You shook your head no, but that did not wipe the grin off his face.

“We have time,” he reassured you. “Just know that Mother Nature has hope for you still.”

He took your hand, putting another upon the back as he brought you a different kind of warmth. “I have hope for you.”

You parted your mouth, unaccustomed to the contact, the kindness...to all that he represented.

His eyes locked with yours, and although he had spared you the wrath of his palace dungeons, you feared whether you could escape the imprisonment of his gaze.

There was no doubt in your mind as you let yourself be arrested into his stare — the Prince of the Earth was not going to haunt just a single night.

FRATERNISING WITH THE HEIR OF REGNA TERRAE WOULD BE THE DEATH OF YOU.

Of course, that was not the last time you saw him — you had become something of a personal project to him, a sin which must be reversed. Almost every night after the fateful encounter, you snuck out from the fences of the Metallum villages, barely evading the suspicious eyes of the Kim brothers, and met with him under his treehouse.

You did not know why you endeavoured so ardently in seeing him. It was not like he had become any less irritable with his amused grins and unmatched power, but there was something about him which you could not fend off.

In a way, he made you believe you were worth more than simple woodcutting, selling oaks in the market, the empty promises of revenge against the Natural Kingdom.

Somehow, he made you realise that, maybe, you truly were deserving of a more memorable path.

These very thoughts accompanied you as the sun began to set, pulling your hood over your head as you swept past the familiar trees, reining in the urge to greet every woodland creature which scurried past you. The past few weeks, after many misunderstood arguments with the Prince’s pet squirrel, you learned the slight quirks which the animal possessed, his every movement and what it would signify. You had Beomgyu to thank once again, but each time you wished to do so, he would say the same, hair-rising reassurance.

“Fret not, sweet jackal. It is a pleasure to show you the wonders of nature.”

Sweet jackal. The endearment made you so flustered, and that aggravated you to the greatest extent. You had already shared your name with the boy, but he insisted on calling you this name, as if the two of you had already established an intimacy from decades before.

The very thought had your actual heartbeat racing.

You made sure to completely dismiss this foolery as you found the special opening of the grassland in sight, the glowing figure waving you over. A small smile involuntarily curled at your lips, hurrying closer till you fully saw Prince Beomgyu’s face clearly in the setting sun.

“You have arrived much earlier this evening,” he said in a way of greeting, fixing his flower crown as his squirrel played with the petals. “I would not say I’m displeased.”

On your part, you certainly were not either — he bore more finery than usual, his normal green gown threaded with gold swirls at the hems, small vines tied around his ears as natural jewellery. His hair was sprinkled with petals, a trait Jisung adored as he settled in the nest of his locks. His hands, too, were intertwined with dark vines, swirls wrapped around his fingers like extended rings.

By the gods, he truly was an exquisite being.

He noticed your silence, raising a groomed brow. “Is something the matter?” he asked, but when he saw your eyes dart to anywhere but his own, he immediately understood. You just managed to catch a satisfied quirk of his lips before he turned his attention to your plant.

Following his trail, you brightened up to see your creation in full bloom — bright red poppies, stark against the pool of grass, stood as they swayed to the evening breeze. You knelt down to observe them closer, and felt a peculiar sense of pride at sensing their clear heartbeat harmonising with yours.

“They’re my favourite flower,” the boy said behind you. “I have always adored how they stand out amongst all the others.”

Watching the poppies almost dance in the cool air, you stood upwards once again. “Then why do you not wear them?” you asked out of curiosity.

“Because my parents do not like me wearing them.” He gestured to the flower crown, at risk of being torn up by Jisung. “They say the colour is too harsh.”

He clicked his tongue in irritation. “At least they could have spared me on my birthday.”

You were about to comment on his parents when those words escaped his mouth. Your own mouth parted in surprise. “Your birthday is today?”

The prince mocked being stabbed in the chest, nearly sending the squirrel to the trees. Taking Jisung from his hair, he propped him on his shoulder. “You have truly wounded me, ____!” he whined. “All this time together, and you had no inkling?”

Although he was only jesting, it only embarrassed you further. “I truly am sorry, your Highness!” you apologised, clasping your hands together. “If I had known, I would have made you a present.”

“Oh?” He took a step towards you. His eyes danced in mirth. “And what would you have made me?”

That seemed to rob you of your speech. “Well, um…” you trailed off, searching your now useless mind of any decent idea for a gift, but he waved off your fluster, chuckling.

“It is no problem, dear jackal,” he said, looking at the red flowers once more. “Seeing your poppies in full growth is a gift to me anyway.”

You wished he had not said that; glancing at them now, you could only hear his fascination within the petals.

There he was again — staining your every entity of his remnants. How much more till he stains your very soul?

Jisung’s irritated squeak brought you back to the forest. You tried not to murder the damned creature as you muttered out, “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Beomgyu groaned out. “I shan’t have you calling me that hideous title all the time.” He put a hand to his chest. “Have we not reached first name basis?”

Despite your surprise, you offered him a scoff. “Jackal is not my first name,” you jeered. “And please. You’re the prince of our land. Anyone who catches me being informal with you will surely have my head.”

“I would never let them,” he merely said. “Not before I show you one last part of the forest.”

You quirked a quizzical brow. “I think you’ve shown me half your kingdom by now.”

“But this is...quite different.”

The boy stepped closer to you, reaching out his hand. You found yourself warming up as he enveloped it with yours, a gesture so small yet so triggering to your nerves.

“Follow me, ____.”

With the tug of his fingers, you were led out of the grasslands and back into the jungles of Regna Terrae, catching familiar sights of ancient mahoganies and birches, different variations of trees all grouped together.

As the moon began to ascend, your anxiety increased. His hand worked wonders for your skin, but at the back of your mind, you could not shake off the image of the Kim brothers wondering where you had gone so long.

Especially Namjoon. Seokjin and Taehyung may have been much simpler in the brain, but the leader of the trio bore his suspicions of your whereabouts. He always knew you were never enthusiastic of your occupation as a Lumberjackal, so your sudden interest to roam the woodlands for hours into the night certainly had his ears perking. Of course, you always made sure to know that you were going without being followed, but in the end, the three brothers were quite unpredictable.

You just hoped that whatever the prince had to show you, it would be seen quick enough to leave.

The density of the forest began to increase, and you soon began to doubt whether you had been to this part of the Kingdom before. It was then Beomgyu’s hands flowed with magic, and completely changed the scenery. The ancient trees, trunks as wide and thick as horses began to move apart to make way for him and you, the squirrel holding onto his shoulder tightly as it too squeaked in surprise. Your own eyes widened as each element of nature bent to his will, creating an easier path for his boots to step onto.

It was clearly a sight for admiration. These few weeks you had begun to realise the power of the earth, and how rich and true its roots lay. You felt the faint hum of their essences as you rushed past them, hand still clasped with his, and you dipped your head in thanks to the trees, hoping that one day you would hear them sing welcomes to you.

Slowing down, the group was barred by the curtain of thick vines, hiding you from the world behind. “I have never seen this before,” you wondered out loud, but when Beomgyu let go of your hand, and stepped forward, hands stretched out, your curiosity reigned further.

Jisung quickly scurried from his shoulder, ending up on the muddied path as he watched with black eyes of the phenomenon about to occur. You made to make fun of the squirrel when the prince let out an aggravated moan, hurling your head to his direction.

His heavenly voice chanted in a millennia old language, huge power emitting from his finger tips and swirling to the tumbling vines of the entrance. You could see the sweat beading down his forehead at the sheer effort it took, but he stayed rooted, sending surges of green matter to the cold nature.

Slowly, the curtain began to withdraw. Blinding light cut through, and when the boy let out a roar, pushing the whole family of vines apart you hid your head from the white bursting through.

There was a deathly silence for a singular moment.

You heard his ragged breathing, lasting for ten seconds before it turned into relieved, panted chuckling.

Bringing your hand away from your face, you looked to see beyond the curtain.

Your very breath was snatched from your lungs.

Before you was the most enchanting deity of nature you had ever seen in your existence — it was a glowing white tree, trunk as wide as the two of you twice over, etched with milky-coloured wrinkles that contained sparkles of ancient magic. The leaves, much like finely cut diamonds, protruded from every branch which stretched towards every corner the eye could see. The diamonds were infinite, shining from the gentle light of the moon.

Even though you had never seen it before, you knew exactly what it was.

“The Tree of Life.”

Your gaze dared to break away to see the prince for a second, whose own breathing seemed to have halted. Sensing your stare, he looked back at you, his face half glowing from the deity’s light.

“I...I thought it did not—” you tried to say, but of course you could not when it was right there before you, as if it had been waiting to be found all its life.

“Exist?” He took a step forward. “Every myth is borne from truth after all.”

Indeed it was — you had learned of the Tree of Life when you were a mere girl, listening to fairy tales before being told to sleep. This Tree could not be seen by the common man, and legend foretold that there lived an otherworldly creature inside its trunk. Evidently, no one could prove this theory, but its mystery had what inspired so many people, metal and earthbenders alike, to find it, for opposing reasons.

You knew why Namjoon wanted to find it — for the amount of gold a singular leaf could bring him. Now, having accused him of believing in fantasies, you almost felt ashamed for having ridiculed his searches.

“Come.”

You perked up at the Prince’s voice.

“You must get a closer look.”

Picking up the pace of your feet, you fell into step beside him as the two of you started towards the legend come to life. The closer you approached the more enchanting it looked — the leaves glistened further, as if greeting you with their shine.

Jisung scurried between you both, his little head never straying from the Tree. It let out an awed squeak, and Beomgyu hummed in agreement.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?”

You shook your head, transfixed. “Never,” you responded, feeling the very earth shift beneath your feet.

If nothing else convinced you of the power of nature, then the existence of this deity certainly did.

You stepped past the boy, the grass hushed beneath your feet as you stretched out your hand. When your fingers touched the milky bark your breath shuddered out of you. It was simply unreal. The touch was surprisingly soft, so unlike the normal trees, and with each crack of the bark there was ancient writing inscripted within. With further shock you felt a very distant heartbeat as the fingers ran along the words, faint yet powerful.

By the gods.

“Where have you been hiding all this time?” you whispered to the Tree, tracing the aged trunk. “Your Highness, is everything about the legend true?”

There was no response — you figured he was still star-struck, and you continued to admire the most beautiful force you had ever seen.

It was not until you heard Jisung’s shrill squeak that you turned around.

You felt your soul leave your body.

Because there he was, the one man you dreaded to see. The one man who held Beomgyu’s unconscious body in his hands as he dropped him upon the grass. You noticed the little dart on the side of his neck, and all the blood in your body was drained.

Kim Namjoon.

His answering smirk was more a flash of teeth. “Do you believe me now, ____?”

You backed up against the Tree, eyes darting to the prince. “What did you do to him?” you asked instead, voice void of any emotion.

“That does not matter,” he dismissed. “But of course, it would matter to you now that you’ve attached yourself to him.”

He took a step forward, his ebony machete glinting in the light of the phenomenon behind you. “Stand aside, girl. It is time to make our fortunes.”

On instinct, you stretched a hand out. “I cannot.”

The man was taken aback by your hesitance. “Whatever the gods do you mean?”

Gulping, you tried to steel your will, inhaling slowly. “I cannot let you do it, Namjoon.” Your eyes glanced at the still prince before glaring at the perpetrator. “You won’t get a single branch of the Tree.”

A harsh laugh escaped him, taking a step forward. “Oh, and you’re going to stop me?”

You brought out your own sword — the one which you promised to use on Beomgyu — and raised it toward him. “Do not come any further,” you warned.

It seemed the man was not not going to compromise.

Not when he swung his machete, well on his way to hack you to pieces.

You quickly brought your weapon upon you to deflect his aim, sending him forward, and away from the Tree.

He can try and hurt the Tree of Life.

Easily gaining step, Namjoon mustered his power, ebony sharpening from his fingers as he clashed against you, lightening-fast strikes of his machete having you strained. You never doubted the bastard’s swordsmanship — he was skilled enough to be a general in the King’s royal army.

A shame he chose his fighting for a darker purpose.

You tried to slice the free space of his abdomen, but the man was sharp, quickly dodging as he swerved to the side, another clash of weapons ringing around the forest.

“You cannot beat me, ____!” He roared, one hit after the other, sending you further back.

Taking every hit, you stumbled, gaining your step yet staggering once again with his sword. After all, you could not outsmart the master; he was the man who taught you to fight.

Even so, you refused to give up. “I can die trying!” You seethed as he brought his strength down. His weapon, screeching against your own, slowly descended, closer and closer to your neck.

A harsh groan escaping, you mustered all your strength into sending his machete aside, barely a spare second in your name before you whirled to your left, missing the power blow.

“All this for a bloody tree!” He screeched, thundering towards you. “We would have been rich, you fool!”

Another mighty hit, and you were sent back, averting his strikes with your sword. Because you were so exhausted, your magic would not burst from your hands, adding more power to your weapon. It was your melee strength, nearly all gone, and your nimble feet.

“What is all this for?!” He demanded, slicing at your cloak, cutting through the fabric of your trousers. The clash of weapons continued, faster and faster. “What is worth more than all the riches of the Kingdom?!”

Amidst the brawl, your eyes slipped to the figure before you. Distant, yet instantly recognisable with his eyes closed, and mouth parted, flower crown scattered around his head. Jisung, too, laid injured beside him, watching your fight with fear in his little eyes.

What is all this for?

You only had one person in mind.

But that was not enough.

No, not when that sliver of a second gave Namjoon enough time to strike you, sending his machete straight into your stomach.

A shuddered gasp escaped you as the machete entered through — a burst of pain shot through your entire body, echoing the fatality of your situation. Tears stung your eyes as you dropped your sword, looking at your opponent in the eyes.

The Leader of the Lumberjackals showed no mercy as he yanked out his weapon.

A moan rushed past your lips as you fell to your knees, gripping your blood-gushing stomach. Namjoon gazed down at you with no remorse at all. “Perhaps he was not enough,” he said, cold as metal.

He stepped past you, focusing on the glistening Tree of Life, its white treasures still exalted in the moonlight. Your body, completely spent, could not hold you upright, falling straight into the grass. Straining, you cried out as you stretched your hand out in vain efforts to stop him, but it was simply no use.

You had been defeated.

And now, after witnessing the most perfect element of nature you had ever seen, you were to watch it be decimated.

This is how it ended. You, fumbling for your last breath, your prince nearby and probably dead.

Namjoon raked his eyes over the Tree, grinning wildly. “Oh, you are going to make me the richest man in the Kingdom,” he declared, raising his machete till it hovered just before the bottom of the trunk.

He elevated his voice so you could hear. “Enjoy watching me destroy what you sacrificed yourself for!”

Closing your eyes, you were about to let oblivion take over.

You awaited the sound of his weapon against the bark.

What you heard was something completely different.

An explosion filled your ears as white light, even more blinding than the one before, had you squeezing your eyes further shut. You made out the screams of your once leader as it was drowned out by the eruption, and you tried to see what had so suddenly occurred, only to be greeted with more brazen lights.

What...what was going on?

When the deafening noise quietened, you picked up on the soft crunch of grass, edging closer and closer to you. A compelling force was felt against your dying soul, and you wondered if the Reaper had finally come to take you.

When you felt air-light hands on your abdomen, you did not expect death to be so warm.

Slowly, dragging open your eyes, you prepared yourself to be taken to the afterlife.

What you saw instead was something else entirely.

Something which made even the Tree of Life as a mediocre enchantment.

Looking over you was not human — not with the glowing, shimmering skin, sparkles and shine radiating off its golden, liquid body. Her eyes were white with the same light you had seen twice this evening, fluid locks of hair flowing all around her. Her lips offered a radiant smile, already bringing some life back into you, and her whole body, although similar to yours, was free of attire, exuding the light of a star.

Perhaps you truly were dead.

The being, however, proved you wrong with her words.

“Brave human,” she began, and her velvet voice had you clutching your stomach. “I saw what you did to defend me.”

You tried to open your mouth to tell her that you defended the Tree, but then your eyes dilated at the revelation.

The legend foretold that there lived an otherworldly creature inside its trunk.

But this...this god-like creature was not just a mere girl.

“You sacrificed yourself for my Tree,” she stated, voice echoing across the woodlands. “For my forest, my every creation, despite being an enemy of mine in the past.

“You deserve a token of my gratitude.”

Her voice nearly put you to sleep with the way it lulled in the midnight air. You wondered in your tired mind what she could offer you now that you were breathing your last breath.

Then, you felt her hands upon your stomach.

A loud groan escaped your lips as the torn flesh began to stitch on its own accord, courtesy of the magic which poured from the sublime being. Your whole body worked to heal you, reversing the damage done by your once leader, whose whereabouts you had no inkling of.

The pain, which once tore at every nerve within you, began to fade away, and you opened your eyes further after gaining the strength, fully taking in the earthly spirit which had restored you.

You parted your mouth, voice parched as you rasped out, “I...Beomgyu…”

A heavenly smile curled at her lips. “The prince is fine, soldier. It would take more than a dart to eliminate the heir of the Earth.”

A relieved breath left your lips. You then looked to the being, putting your hands above hers. “I am not who I was,” you whispered.

Mother Nature smiled down at you, and you knew then and there that perhaps the world is not so cruel after all.

“I know, brave human.”

The luminous creature ascended to her feet, letting go of your hands. She dipped her head in acknowledgment, and turned on her heel. Struggling to your side, you watched as the otherworldly figure stepped up to the Tree of Life, looking at you one last time.

Raising a hand to her chin, she blew some magic towards your way, bathing you in sparkles. With a final beam, she slipped into the tree, enlivening the whole structure till it stood straight once again.

You truly could not believe what you saw.

Feeling the glimmer dancing on your skin, however, you knew this was not a figment of your imagination.

Mother Nature saved you from death.

Truly, utterly, ethereal.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard soft coughing nearby, and you heaved upward at the sound, your strength all present.

Beomgyu.

Upon your feet, you rushed to where he lay, stumbling from the hurrying as you fell to your knees, hands clinging onto his face. Jisung, his injuries healed from the celestial visit, scurried upon his owner’s chest, waiting for him to awaken.

“Beomgyu?” You murmured out, fingers stroking the soft planes of his cheeks. “Beomgyu, damn you, open your eyes!”

Tilting his face till it faced you, you watched as the prince’s eyes fluttered open, tired and wide and absolutely beautiful.

A trembling breath gasped out of you. “What…” he grated out, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. “What just...happened?”

You willed the tears in as you caressed his face. “The legend was true.”

His confused gaze had you continuing. “Beomgyu, I saw the celestial creature when I was dying, and she saved me. It was true, Beomgyu, she healed me with her hands and—”

Your rambling ceased when the boy brought his fingers to your face. Warmth flooded your cheeks, and not because of how hot his hands were.

His smile could have easily beaten Mother Nature’s.

“You called me Beomgyu.”

He did not let you respond as he brought your face down to his, tilting it slightly as he pressed his lips against yours, enveloping you in a sweet kiss.

His mouth was warm, just like him, soft and plush, rendering you helpless over him. Your shock was quite prevalent, but you let the affection take over as you kissed him back, hands carding in his curls. He moved against your lips as his fingers stroked down to your jaw, savouring every feathered touch.

When he broke away, his breathing was ragged, cheeks flushed. He saw your own dishevelled gaze and chuckled to himself.

“I think this might be the best birthday present I have ever received.”

The Prince of Regna Terrae laughed some more when you refused to meet his eyes.

You were about to counter him when you heard another, completely new voice.

“You both could have done that without me being here.”

Your stare dove to his chest, to the direction of the sound.

Jisung the squirrel glared at you with the entire irritation of the Kingdom. “Oh what? So now you can hear me?!”

A yelp resounded from you. “How are you talking?!” You screeched. “You’re a bloody animal!”

“Oh, thank you so very much for stating the blatantly obvious!” He drawled, and you could not comprehend the sarcasm that just came from a bloody woodland creature.

You peered at Beomgyu, who was just as surprised as you were, despite his entertained features. “____,” he started, sitting up straighter. “Does this mean—”

Getting to your feet, you looked around the forest, the Tree of Life standing proudly.

It was then you sensed the heartbeat.

Not just your own, or the poppies — but of the entirety of the Kingdom.

Faraway, yet still present, it thumped against your chest like an echo of your own heart, a harmonisation of all the trees, bushes, flowers and animals. It was almost enchanting how it slowly thudded within you, and with such welcome.

Like greeting a friend you had not seen for a long time.

When you caught the Prince’s gaze, his entire face lit up.

Before you could say anymore, you were swept into the boy’s arms, engulfing you with a hug of eternal warmth. His voice rang along your soul as he declared to the whole word.

“Nature has accepted you, ____!”

You heard the clicked tongue of Jisung beneath you, and Beomgyu brought you at arm’s length before sticking out his tongue at his pet.

He looked to you once more, and saw the very emotions you dared not let yourself believe in.

“I knew you were capable of change, sweet jackal.”

The tears, this time, refused to be held back any longer.

The boy melted as he swept away each tumbling drop with his fingers, clutching your face.

As you leaned in this time, kissing him breathlessly, you tasted the smile which flourished upon his lips, drinking in your every essence.

You wondered, thinking away as your heart beat faster, whether this was still a dream, a vision which would end the moment you woke up, back in the cold village you once called your home.

When you felt the presence of the celestial being again, looking down from the branches of the Tree of Life, you knew that this was no delusion.

Pulling away, you turned Beomgyu to the glistening, living structure, both of you catching sight of her.

Mother Nature smiled at her heirs.

The both of you knew it in your hearts, simultaneously beating.

The heirs of Regna Terrae would not let her down.

#txt imagines #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu fluff #txt fluff #choi beomgyu imagines #choi beomgyu fluff #choi beomgyu #beomgyu oneshots #txt oneshots #choi beomgyu oneshots #beomgyu soft #choi beomgyu soft #beomgyu scenarios #choi beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x you #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you

662 notes · View notes