#only bc my mother used to dry them out under the sun on bright days (or in the toaster when she got lazy) before frying them

[deus-ex-mona]

merry crisis guys!!!!

[carpsurprise]

sam stans i come.. bearing a gift.. sooo..

plot: the farmer teaches sam how to plant flowers, despite his clumsy nature

word count: 1.9k

notes: once again, gn!farmer. this is.. way more than i usually write but i felt particularly inspired... and we all know i love sam, put under a read more bc it is a little long. i’m also posting this on ao3! don’t be surprised if another sam writing comes up soon... 

A quiet sigh left the farmer’s mouth, their eyes focusing on Sam’s clumsy, gloved hands handling the delicate flowers. He tipped the young flowers from their nursery containers with care, mindful of the placement of his fingers against the dirt and the positions of the leaves. The empty nursery container was thrown haphazardly on the ground, making the farmer’s eyebrow quirk for just a moment before returning their attention back to Sam. With the young flower held in both of his hands, he shot the farmer a nervous glance.

“Heh,” he chuckled, heat starting to creep up the back of his neck, “thought you bought seeds from Pierre? I didn’t think you’d plant already blooming flowers.”

The farmer shrugged. “They’re still nice. Besides, those are more for decoration than anything— and you asked me to teach you to plant flowers, didn’t you? Teaching you to plant a seed would take a moment.”

“I guess so,” he muttered, still nervously holding the formed potting soil. “Now what do I do, stick it in the ground?”

“You could, or,” the farmer held Sam’s hands gently, allowing him to hear his own heartbeat in his head. The farmer helped support the stem of the plant, gently kneading their thumb and the inside of their pointer finger along the potting soil. The roots of the plant had finally appeared in a jumbled mess. “See, you want to spread out the roots a little so it can get water easier.”

Sam nodded with a dry swallow, watching the farmer’s eyes focus intently on the roots of the flower. They continued, “You want to be super careful, though, they’re very delicate. Just a gentle little touch will be good to separate them out.” 

A few clumps of dirt had fallen from the plant, landing on Sam’s lap and rolling off his thighs back to the earth. The farmer didn’t seem to mind the dirt that covered their legs. He directed his focus back to the flowers in front of him, and off of the farmer’s legs. Sam mirrored the farmer’s actions with his own gloved thumb, trying to smooth out the roots as gently as his clumsy hands would allow. It was funny, he thought, that he could master guitar strings flawlessly, but at a moment of tender precision he seemed to become nervous.

“Mm, that’s good!” The farmer exclaimed, slowly retracting their hands from Sam’s. “Now gently place the flower into the hole we made,” they directed, holding the sides of the parted dirt as Sam lowered the new flower into its forever home. He let go of it with slow hands, helping the farmer pat the parted dirt into the open sides with one hand. Sam let out a breath, retracting himself from the planter box.

The farmer let out a breathy chuckle, moving their trowel to their side. “This is usually relaxing for people.”

“I know.”

“You said you wanted to learn how to plant stuff because of your mom, right?”

Sam groaned, feeling himself get caught up in his own lie. “Yeah. I think it’d make her happy to know I learned, for some reason. I’m afraid she doesn’t think what I do for myself is very… useful.”

“But you’re a wonderful guitar player,” the farmer cried, turning their body to him, “and a wonderful song writer. You’ve got more talent than most in the valley, especially when it comes to music,” they smiled, making Sam’s heart skip a beat.

This is why he came to the farmer in a full sweat, red face, and nervous hands asking them to teach him how to garden. 

He grinned, instinctively moving his hand to scratch at the base of his neck. “Thanks, it means a lot—,” he interrupted himself with a startled gasp, feeling the remains of dirt on his gardening glove slip down his spine. He quickly pulled his hand from his neck, looking accusingly at the dirty, green and yellow gardening glove he had forgotten he was still wearing.

The farmer laughed at his mistake innocently, their shoulders shaking with them. It was charming for Sam, yet felt himself still chilled by the quick surprise of things running down his back. “I’ve forgotten I was wearing my gloves many, many times,” they laughed, “It sorta just feels like normal after a while.

Lifting their hands, also still gloved, they flipped them from the palm to the back of the hand. Sam admired the size of their hands, and the obvious wear and tear of the daily work they do written all over the gloves. 

“Need to get a new pair,” they muttered.

Sam had lit up, splaying his dirty gloves across his jeans without thought. “Oh! Let me buy you a new pair then, you know,” he began to fluster again. He stuttered out his response, weary of making his affections known too soon, “to thank you for teaching me how to do this.”

“Sam, you don’t have to do that. I had a lot of fun! Besides, I needed to do this anyway.”

Sam shook his head, grabbing one of their gloved hands. “No, no, please let me, and then I can get a pair that matches!”

The farmer was silent.

“... If that’s alright with you?”

The farmer snapped out of their little daze from his words, nodding and then reassuring him. Accepting his offer of new gloves, they promised to stick with the pair they have now until Sam came to the farmhouse with his gift. “Oh, Sam, before you leave can you bring home a potted plant for your mother? I’d like to thank her for the fertilizers she’s been sending me.”

He nodded. “Yeah, totally. She’d love that.”

Jumping up from their position, the farmer ran over to the side of their house, sifting through gardening tools and empty containers. They pulled out a weathered, but nice small pot. Sam watched as they dragged their hose out, rinsing the dust and dirt off of it before bringing it back over. “Here! I have no clue where this came from, but it’s nice and pretty.”

Sam agreed, immediately taking the trowel and shoveling dirt into it. “Ah, remember, Sam! Not too much dirt yet, we don’t want the roots exposed,” they instructed, causing him to quickly shovel out a little bit of dirt. He pushed the dirt to the sides of the pot, looking at the farmer expectedly. The grin on their face had made him nervous.

“You do it, Sam. I need to make sure you know how to do this, and I think Jodi will like it a lot more if you potted it. It can be a gift from the both of us.”

His fear of failure had returned to the center of his chest. Without another word he began to focus on the steadiness of his hands, removing the next flower from the container and carefully holding it with one hand. The plant  had seemed bigger when next to the others, but in his large hand it was evident it was still growing. His thumb and forefinger gently massaged the end of the dirt, staying mindful of the few roots poking out.

Feeling the farmer’s eyes upon his hands had made his heart pick up once again. He had always loved their eyes, especially when the sun hit them just right to show the beautiful color of— a slight crunch was heard. His right hand had immediately left the plant’s roots. 

The farmer laughed gently, placing a hand onto Sam’s arm. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Just try to be more gentle. It doesn’t look like you’ve pulled any roots out… completely. Just focus on the roots and your hands, don’t think about anything else.”

Easy for the farmer, he thought. Trying to keep his mind from racing back to them (who had seemed to scoot a little closer to him when he was focused on the roots, now that he was thinking about it), he continued to softly spread the delicate roots of the azaleas, looking to the farmer to see if that was sufficient. The farmer nodded silently, a kind smile on their face to encourage Sam. He placed the small flowers into the pot, still holding the stems gently with his left hand and using his right to pack in enough dirt to keep it steady.

He sat back on his heels, admiring the bright pink of the flowers and the white flower pot with baby pink swirls just around the rim. He had, once again, unknowingly placed his dirty gloves onto his jeans. He was expecting Jodi to be upset with him as soon as he enters the front door, but hopefully, with this flower pot in hand, she’ll excuse his messy day out.

“See? You did amazing!” The farmer praised, fluffing out the flowers by the stems. 

Their praise had made Sam’s fleeting worries of his mother dissipate, causing him to turn to them with a teasing look. “Yeah, except for the part where I nearly destroyed the roots of the poor thing.”

Shrugging, the farmer got back to their feet and lifted the pot with a grunt. “It’s fine, you did great anyway. Like everything else, it takes practice.” 

They grabbed another bag, along with their watering can and returned to Sam’s side. They watered the flowers immediately, then cut open the bag of mulch and placed a thin layer over the wet dirt. Sam watched without question, watching their hands work around the plant and dirt effortlessly. The farmer’s moves seemed calculated, the only way Sam could relate or keep up was by comparing it to the movement of hands on guitar strings, knowing when to use gentle touch or a moment of pressure.

They pulled back, swiping the palms of their hands together to brush off any loose dirt from their gloves. Sam should’ve been doing that the whole time. “Finishing touches are done! She’s already to head to your house, Sam,” they stood up once more, hoisting the pot up into their arms and ready to hand off to Sam. 

“Make sure it’s watered when the soil feels dry; and it can’t be in the sun all of the time, it likes some shade sometimes. The pot is sorta big so it’ll grow a little, but once it kinda grows out some of the leaves and flowers may start dying. Just pluck or cut those off and it’ll grow back.”

Sam nodded slowly, trying to repeat the farmer’s instructions back to himself in an attempt to not forget them. He knew the attempt was futile, but found that with every gray cloud there is a silver lining: he can always come back to see the farmer, just to ask for it again. He gave a nervous giggle, awkwardly trying to hold the gift for his mother.

“Please tell Jodi I said thank you, it means a lot to have help from the community.”

“Well, uh, if you ever need any help don’t hesitate to ask. I’m always here for you,” Sam said sheepishly, almost immediately regretting not omitting his last sentence.

The farmer grinned, waving goodbye to him. “I know you are, and thank you, too.”

He smiled back at them, saying his goodbye and heading back down the dirt path to town, praying that no one would see him struggling with the giant pot of azaleas, potted by him, for his mother. 

[daydreaming-cheese-weasel]

community wild west au

okay, it’s a bit different from what i posted in the rough draft of ideas thing, but here it is!! this is part one, bc i think the whole thing is gonna end up longer than i thought lol

     Annie knew she couldn’t stay here forever. It was a small town, and she always knew, somewhere deep down, that she would move on to bigger things someday. But that didn’t make it easier to be forced to leave. This was all she had ever known- playing kick the can with the younger children of her father’s patients while they got their medications, playing dress up with her mother, beating the dust out of their clothes during windy season with her brother. She knew she had to face the truth. She wasn’t welcome here anymore. If she had just known when to quit, she wouldn’t be in this situation... that’s what she beat herself up on while she silently bagged the cheese and apples her mother had paid good money for. If she wasn’t such a petty child, she could have stayed here forever... that’s what she thought while she stole the medication from her father’s office that could have helped so many people. But it was too late now, she thought as she reached the town’s limits, just before sunrise, wearing a form fitting vest given to her by her mother for her 18th birthday, taking on last look at the life she lost.

     Troy never cried. That’s what he told himself, anyway, tilting his hat so that Abed wouldn’t be able to see his face. But looking at that poor horse, wincing in pain as Abed cleaned his wounds made a tear run a path down his dusty cheek. Abed was gentle with the animal, of course. Troy’s boyfriend would never ever hurt anyone, regardless of what the townsfolk used to whisper behind Abed’s back. Troy felt a flame in his stomach just thinking about them. And how terribly they always treated Abed. They were gone now, just memories of the past. Troy was free; that’s all he ever wanted.

     Abed wondered where this horse had come from and how he gotten hurt as he gingerly wrapped his bright red bandanna around the horse’s front leg. It was almost the same color as the blood dripping rhythmically into the dirt. He glanced up at Troy standing a few feet away from where he was kneeling by the light brown horse. He could tell he was trying and failing to control his deep emotions, something Abed never had much trouble with. This horse represented Troy in a way, he thought. A little bit in pain, but nothing he couldn’t fix. Abed never expected to “fall” for his best friend. Especially since he didn’t fall in love- more like slowly slid into it. Drawing his attention away from Troy’s face, solemn yet “ruggedly handsome”, as the women in town would say, he realized that when the horse was healed, he would long to run again. To be free. But Abed was already rather attached to the poor thing. He wanted to see if he could bond with him so that the horse could have a way to survive and Troy and Abed wouldn’t have to continue their journey on foot. But would the horse ever outgrow their relationship? What would happen to Abed if this horse one day grew dissatisfied with his life, even though Abed had become reliant on him? He pushed the insecure questions out of his head and instead gave the horse some water to drink from his canteen, to try and gain his trust. 

There wasn’t supposed to be any run ins on the way to Annie’s grandma’s house in Greendale County, a few towns over. She had heard stories of the people who would be on these kind of roads. Bandits, thugs- people who Annie didn’t have much experience with in her sheltered life back in town. But when she saw two figures and a horse laying on the ground, she knew she had to keep going, even if it killed her. This was the only way to get to Greendale where, hopefully she could stay- maybe even get a job and start her new life. With that hope in mind, she trudged on under the hot sun. She was tiring quick. She clearly didn’t know what she was getting herself into when she left, just hours ago. But she had no choice. Who knew, maybe these strangers could help her get to Greendale.

Troy and Abed exchanged a glance as the strange girl explained her situation.

“My father is a doctor, that’s why I have all these medications, I’m bringing them to Greendale,” Annie lied, fluttering her eyes, trying to look innocent. “But a few miles back, I crossed paths with some bandits! Th-they stole my dear horse, Ruthie and if you could spare just, just a few-“ Then she cut herself off, throwing in some tears for effect, really pouring in what her mother would call, “the sugar and honey”. Anybody you met would take pity on a sad sight like that, with her doe eyes and quivering lip.

“Look, ma’am, we don’t have any extra money, just barely enough for ourselves,” Troy told her. “Surely a girl like you could run those meds back to your daddy without any difficulty.” It was true that they had nothing to spare, but the girl didn’t have much to her and Troy felt a pang in his heart as he turned away from her and to the horse.

“No, you don’t understand! I need to get to Greendale!” Annie pleaded. She was only a day into her journey and her feet were throbbing in her boots, her throat dry.

“I’m sorry. I wish we could help you, but we have other things on our plate right now,” Abed said in his usual monotone voice (that didn’t make him sound very sorry, Annie thought), gesturing to the horse Troy was petting reassuringly.

“I-I can help your horse! How about a deal? You take me to Greendale, and I’ll help your horse,”she said. Troy perked up and glanced at Abed.

“An intriguing offer,” Troy murmured to himself.

“How would you help him?” Abed wondered aloud. The horse was looking worse by the minute.

“The medications! It works for people, it must work for horses, too, right?” she said, not even bothering to hide the desperation in her voice as her head pounded from dehydration.

“I thought that was for the people in Greendale,” said Troy.

“They... they don’t need it that bad,” Annie stammered, caught in a lie. The truth was she had hoped to sell the meds on the way to buy some food, but striking up a deal would work even better. Troy and Abed looked at each other, seemingly reading each other’s mind. The girl was obviously lying about why she needed to get to Greendale. Annie cleared her throat, bringing their attention back to her.

“Give us a minute to discuss it,” Abed told her. The men walked over to where they had dropped their supplies- sleeping bags, water, and food- leaving Annie with the horse.

“She’s desperate,” Troy said.

“She’s lying” Abed replies.

“We can’t push her; if she doesn’t want to tell us why she’s going to Greendale, we can’t make her.” Troy knew what it was like to want to shut down from the outside. Abed considered this for a moment.

“Okay. If you trust her, I’m with you. We were going that way, anyway. Plus, the horse needs help.” Troy grinned. He went on his tiptoes to kiss Abed’s cheek. He smiled at him.

“Thank you Abed,” Troy said, in that tender voice that Abed slid into love with.

“Let’s bring her some water, she looks like she’s going to pass out any second.”

Thanks for reading!! Reblogs are appreciated if you enjoyed it! Part two will be where they meet the rest of the group so stay tuned!!

(thanks for the inspiration @understandably-odd!!!)

[theoriginalladya]

“ why do you walk around as if you’re somehow less valuable than the rest of the world? ” for Alexandre

from this list

On AO3 here

Oh, thank you for asking about Alexandre!!!!!  *cracks knuckles*  Time to dig deep for all that French I learned in school! lol  ;)

Huge thanks to @nightmarestudio606 for looking this over for me!  <3

~~~~

2178, Alenko orchard, BC Interior

 It astounds Alexandre that he and Kaidan were able to get shore leave at the same time yet again.  After the last time, he thought it might be impossible.  Sure, the Skyllian Blitz was far from their fault, but the Alliance is not known for their sense of humor, dry or not.  Then again, just how ‘wild’ could the interior of Canada be in the middle of winter?  Certainly not on the same level as the Blitz.  Right?

It has been a long time since Alexandre last visited the Alenko orchard, and so much has happened since then.  And though it was only a short stay last time – just under a year – he did fall in love with the place.  The scenic views.  Kaidan’s welcoming family.  The instant acceptance of him and his biotics without question; such a different experience with family than his mother and brother, one that left him with a far greater appreciation for family.  

Since his enlistment, however, finding opportunity to return has not been easy.  Add to that, he is used to being on ships, traveling the galaxy, no ties to any one place. So, the idea of returning to BC to visit is difficult to process for him, more so because, unless Kaidan is with him it doesn’t feel right.  Then again, the only time they have been able to get leave together before now they were both deployed.  Elysium was closer, relatively inexpensive, and someplace new worth exploring and experiencing.  Had he known how it would turn out, he might have made more of an effort to head back to Earth instead.

This time around, however, they head home. Kaidan arrives first, a day ahead of Alexandre, so when Shepard lands at the transport station in Kamloops the next day, he is met by all three Alenkos.  As before, he is welcomed with open arms, quite literally, and all of this despite his current disreputable-looking condition.  Logan and Nathalie cannot hide a startled expression at first, but he reassures them all is well, he is fine and very grateful to have leave among friends.  Kaidan hides his reaction better, though Alexandre still notes a tightness at the corner of his eyes.  He does not make a big deal of it, quietly asking as they climb into the back of the skycar, “Migraine?”

Kaidan shakes his head, raising a finger to trace the new N7 insignia on Alexandre’s collar tab.  The same finger slips beneath the material, brushing against an inch-long medigel-covered wound.  “I want to ask how things went, but I know you can’t talk about them.”

Alexandre chuckles softly, tiredly, but grasps his hand, pulling it away and squeezing gently.  “All that matters is the outcome, is it not?”

Kaidan’s lips press into a thin line.  “You look half-starved!”

“I am fine, mon étoile,** I promise!”  

Alexandre does, however, lie his head on Kaidan’s shoulder as Logan Alenko guides them in the direction of the orchard.  Though he expects Kaidan to continue the discussion, he does not, and Alexandre is able to fall into a light doze until they pull up in front of the house.  Stretching and yawning as he exits the vehicle, he grabs his duffle and heads inside the house and up to his old room, one that, Nathalie assures him, is just as he left it.

For the rest of that afternoon and over the next couple of days, Alexandre settles back into civilian life.  It takes a bit of time to get used to, especially after the trials of completing his N7 training, but there is no pressure, no tension, nothing like what he would have faced with his mother and brother.  More importantly, he has time to simply be with Kaidan.  Whether assisting around the orchard or the house or relaxing together, just being in proximity to his partner brings with it a comfort he has sorely missed.

But this comfort, he notices early on, may only be one sided.  While they do spend time together, and outwardly appearances seem normal, Alexandre senses something troubling Kaidan.  At first, he says nothing; after being apart for so long, it takes time to become familiar with one another again, he understands this.  And yet, when their fourth day, nearly half of their leave, passes and he it feels as if a wall is growing between them, Alexandre decides it is time to talk.

That evening, he finds Kaidan sitting on the porch swing watching as a summer storm blows through the area.  Rain and wind, occasional flickers of lightning, but nothing so severe to warrant an immediate retreat indoors, Alexandre joins him.

The swing drifts lazily, barely moving as Kaidan’s arm rests along the back edge, his head upon the arm.  Alexandre settles in the space behind him.  “I have brough tea, mon étoile,” he murmurs quietly, gently nudging the mug against his arm.  

Kaidan half-turns to take it from him, but says nothing.  Not even offering thanks.  This is when Alexandre knows something serious is wrong.  He sips at his own mug and listens to the rain fall and the occasional crack of thunder.  Having grown up on ships most of his life, it fascinates him and finds he misses it when he is not around it.  It soothes him in ways he cannot explain.  

After a few minutes, after attempting to slide his hand around Kaidan’s shoulder as he leans closer only to have the other man pull stiffly away, Alexandre remains silent no longer.  “What is it, Kaidan?”

Kaidan says nothing, staring out across the yard to the rows of trees beyond.

It tests the limits of Alexandre’s patience, yet if anyone can get away with it, it is Kaidan.  “Mon étoile?  Talk to me, s’il te plait.”**

A sigh, heavy with regret and reluctance, escapes the man’s lips.  “What do you want me to say?”

“I wish for you to tell me what troubles you,” Alexandre replies quietly, honestly.  Again, he attempts to slide his arm around Kaidan to join their hands. This time, Kaidan accepts it, lacing their fingers together.  Alexandre slides closer behind him, resting his elbow on the back of the swing and holding his tea off to the side so as not to spill it on him.  “Why is it you walk around as if you think you are somehow less valuable than the rest of the world?”

Kaidan stiffens, the hold on Alexandre’s hand tightening briefly, almost painfully, as if guilt or shame guides him now. Alexandre presses a light kiss at the edge of the neck of Kaidan’s t-shirt, just where the neck and shoulder join. Kaidan sips quietly at his tea, stares out across the yard, eventually inhaling deeply and releasing the tension within as he exhales.  “You always could see right through me.”

Alexandre smiles against his skin.  “As you can me,” he points out.  “If our positions were reversed, would you not call me out?”

“I don’t deserve you.”

Alexandre does not even acknowledge that comment, instead repeating, “Qu’est-ce qui se passe?”**

A bright flash of lightning, nearly blinding in intensity, arcs across the sky.  Within a second or two, a violent wave of thunder shakes the earth beneath and the air around them.  In that one moment, Alexandre feels a tremor skitter across his partner’s shoulders. “Kaidan?”

“Akuze,” he whispers tightly.  “It’s still Akuze.”

Carefully, Alexandre sets both mugs aside so they do not spill.  When this is done, he wraps both arms around Kaidan, resting his chin on one shoulder, hugging him close.  “What about it?”

Another shudder.  This time when he speaks, Kaidan’s voice cracks.  “I … can’t.  Alex, it isn’t fair to you!”  He turns, facing him at long last but averting his eyes.  

One dark eyebrow arches in surprise.  “Pourquoi?”**  Reaching out, Alexandre gently nudges Kaidan beneath his chin, urging him to look up at him. “Have we not agreed to share everything with the other?”

Sniffling softly, Kaidan nods.  “But we aren’t –.”

Dipping his head lower, he presses a light kiss to Kaidan’s cheek.  “It has not stopped you before,” he insists, “nor has it stopped me in past.”  Kaidan lifts his head, slowly lifting his eyes so they meet.  Alexandre smiles and frames his face with his hands.  “I am here for you, mon étoile, however, whenever you may need me.”

Kaidan traces his finger over the now mostly-healed wound on Alexandre’s neck.  “But you are still recovering from your last mission!”

“All the more reason to know I can handle whatever you have to tell me,” Alexandre insists.  “Trust me.”

“I do!”  

Thunder rumbles around them again, the wind gaining strength as rain picks up tempo, heedless of what is in the way.  Neither of them pay it any attention.  Instead, Kaidan’s arms slide around Alexandre’s chest, pulling him as close as he can, holding on like one desperately holding onto life.  It is not unfamiliar, having been the same reaction he displayed after being rescued off Akuze the year before.  Patient as always, Alexandre moves willingly, allowing the other man to guide him as he needs.  It is some time before Kaidan relents, quietly whispering.  Once he starts, however, he keeps going until he releases it all, including the tension that acts as a wall between them.  By that time, the storm is well past, the sun is set and above them, the skies shine brightly.  Wrapped around the other, they stare up at the night sky in silence, savoring the closeness.  

“That one,” Alexandre murmurs near Kaidan’s ear, lifting their joint hands and pointing towards one star.  “One day, you and I will go to that system together. On a mission.”

Kaidan chuckles softly.  “For what purpose.”

Alexandre smiles against his ear, replying, “Why, to save the galaxy, of course.”

Kaidan’s hand tightens.  “I think I would prefer shore leave …”

~~~~ 

**mon étoile = literally, “my star,” a term of endearment

**s’il te plait = if you please

** Qu’est-ce qui se passe = what happened

**Pourquoi = why

[daybreakrising]

@fightingdreamcrs​ asked: five times kissed [shika & kiba] from this meme

Under a cut bc these will all get long.

ONE

Being raised amongst dogs gave Kiba a very specific kind of mindset when it came to affection. He saw nothing wrong with being physical with those he was close to. If it was good enough for the dogs, it was good enough for him.

He had, on more than one occasion, comfortably sprawled alongside his friends in the grass, on the rooftops, head pillowed upon their shoulder, or an arm thrown across their waist. He had, even, lain practically atop one or two of them before. They didn't seem to mind, even if they probably thought it was a bit weird.

They were used to his little quirks.

He was sprawled out atop Shikamaru's favourite roof now, his head comfortably pillowed on the other boy's stomach, one finger tracing idle patterns in the clouds. Akamaru happily chewed on a stick by his feet, tail lazily wagging in the air. It was becoming routine, he realised – skipping class with Shikamaru to watch the clouds.

Normally, sitting still for this long would get under his skin. He was always so full of energy, unable to sit and do nothing for any length of time – which was why he ended up skipping class in the first place. But sometimes, it was nice. He liked Shikamaru's company.

He shifted position, lying beside the other boy instead, and turned his head to study the other's face. He wouldn't have ever picked Shikamaru as a boy to be friends with, given how different they seemed, but somehow, they worked.

With a yawn that softened into a contented sigh, Kiba rolled onto his side and slung a casual arm across Shikamaru's body and leaned in to press an affectionate kiss to his cheek.

Well, if dogs could do it, why couldn't he?

TWO

"I told you."

He stepped up beside Shikamaru, the wind threading fingers through his hair as they looked out over the rooftops of Konoha. For once, Akamaru wasn't at his side – rather, he was dutifully waiting below, no doubt conning shop owners out of scraps of food. He flashed a grin at the other boy, hands settled on his hips.

Not long before, they'd received confirmation of their success in the latest Chunin exams. As Kiba had predicted, every member of Team 8 had passed. He was supposed to go straight home, to give the news to his mother and sister, but there had been someone he wanted to see first.

He pulled back the hood of his jacket, closing his eyes as he tipped his face to the sun. He breathed in the mingling familiar scents of the village, of the boy beside him, and grinned again. Today was a good day.

"When I set my mind to something, I usually end up getting it." He turned, fully, to face Shikamaru. "But I think you already know that." Eyes flashing with a hint of mischief, he fisted his hand in the front of Shikamaru's flak jacket and dragged him in for a kiss.

THREE

Fingertips skimmed lightly over skin, finding the bumps and ridges of old scars. His own skin was littered with such marks, a by-product of their job and their training, but he always found other people's scars much more interesting.

The grass was warm beneath them, the sun bright in the sky. The sounds of the river rushing alongside them and the call of birds in the trees only added to the utter peace and tranquillity of the moment. It was a rare thing for both of them to have a day off at the same time. It only made it all the more special when they did.

Shikamaru's eyes were on the sky, watching clouds as was his habit, but Kiba knew from the faint lift in one corner of his mouth that he wasn't entirely focused on them. One hand shifted from behind Shikamaru's head, instead coming to rest on Kiba's back, right in the space between his shoulders.

Kiba, naturally, took that as his cue. He shifted his weight, leaning more into the other boy, his lips finding one of the thin ridges across Shikamaru's sternum. He felt the abdomen beneath him tense as a breath was drawn in, his lips curving into a smile against his partner's skin. He kissed another scar, beneath a collarbone, and from there it was all too easy to find his throat, his jaw, his lips.

Akamaru, tired of entertaining himself, chose that moment to leap from the river and shower his two human friends as he shook himself dry.

FOUR

Kiba was uncharacteristically quiet and calm as he walked alongside Shikamaru, his eyes scanning the woods around them with interest. This was not the time or place for running wild. Even Akamaru seemed to sense the importance of this development in the relationship.

He knew where they were, even without Shikamaru telling him.

He knew what that meant.

The Nara Forest. Only members of the Nara clan were supposed to be allowed in here. When Shikamaru had suggested they take a walk together, he certainly hadn't been expecting this. Was this breaking any rules? He guessed that, since Shikamaru had brought him here, it was okay, but he couldn't help but wonder.

He sensed the deer before he saw them, Akamaru sniffing at the air a few seconds ahead of him. They emerged slowly, one by one, until Kiba realised they were entirely surrounded by the creatures. How many were there in this forest? Too many to count. When Shikamaru came to a stop, they approached, bending their faces towards his outstretched hand.

Warily, Kiba held out his own hand to the nearest deer, ready to back off if it took offense. After only a brief hesitation, it stalked closer, pressing its cool nose to his palm in greeting. Kiba grinned, letting his fingertips brush over its velvety muzzle. He was so caught up with this beautiful creature that he didn't register the presence at his back until arms snaked around his waist.

He dropped his hand, turning around to face Shikamaru. They didn't need words. Kiba knew what it meant for Shikamaru to bring him here. It was like the equivalent of Shikamaru being allowed amongst the new pups in the Inuzuka kennels. Family.

When Shikamaru leaned in, he met him halfway.

FIVE

"Ahh… I have never had more appreciation for my sister than I do right now."

It was all he could do not to fall through the door. He stripped off his jacket and his shoes, hanging one up and leaving the other scattered untidily next to the rack solely for that purpose. It would drive his partner mad, but that was precisely why he did it. He couldn't help it – he just loved that little furrow in his brow whenever he tried to scold him.

"Nine pups." He whined, padding over to the spot by the window where his partner sat, eyeing the arranged pieces on the board in front of him. "Nine. Practically identical, too, so trying to remember which ones I'd already checked over…" He trailed off into a yawn as Akamaru loped over, giving his partner an obligatory nuzzle, tongue grazing the back of a hand before he curled up in his favourite spot on the other side of the board.

Kiba folded himself over his partner's shoulders, nuzzling the back of his neck with all the affection of a sleepy pup. "Playing against yourself again?" He murmured, glancing at the pieces on the shogi board. He'd never been able to pick up the game, no matter how often Shikamaru tried to teach him.

He pressed a kiss to the pawprint tattoo normally hidden beneath the sleeve of Shikamaru's shirt, matched to the set of antlers in the same place on his own shoulder. He lifted a hand, gently tugging the tie from Shikamaru's hair, instantly running his fingers through the long locks as soon as they were free. He loved Shikamaru’s hair. "I'll make a start on dinner, hm?"

As he made to stand, a hand came up to catch his own. With a grin, Kiba leaned in to accept the offered kiss, letting it linger for several moments. When he pulled back, he winked. "Try not to kick your own ass too hard, Shika. I'm quite fond of it."

[jaeminlore]

Island Princess » Shin Hoseok

- summary: can I request a prince wonho scenario where the reader is the long lost princess of the neighboring kingdom and w/ wpnho it’s love at first sight? words: 3870 category: fluff + angst author note: once again thx to marissa for helping me get started w this. also this is highkey inspired by barbie and the island princess bc i loved that movie so yeah enjoy

-

Wonho awoke to the feeling of slender fingers raking gently through his scalp. For a moment, he thought he was back at his castle, where his mother would sometimes wake him up by running her hands through his hair. That option deteriorated quickly when he tasted sand in the roof of his mouth.

That’s right, he thought, suddenly remembering what had happened.

He had been traveling, something he had been doing since he was a teenager. Exploring the world and its wonders had to be Wonho’s favorite activity. He even had his own ship: a small fishing boat with a crowded hold underneath for him to sleep in. All he used the boat for was transportation. Otherwise, he was on land, exploring whatever new continent he had decided to land on this time. In between his exploring, he often had to visit with the higher-ups and socialites of the land and discuss business. That was the deal he had made with his father: as long as he carried out his princely duties, he could explore.

Usually, there were no casualties. Somewhere between Aruba and St Lucia, however, there had been a storm. It was horrible, and Wonho hadn’t expected to live through it. He had been thrown overboard, and was unfortunately carried away from his boat. In fact, now that he thought about it, he wasn’t even sure he had survived the storm.

It was possible he was on Heaven’s shores, and the comfort he was receiving came from an angel.

He suddenly retched, fully awake now as the action painfully strained his already dry throat. His eyes opened widely, stinging from the salt encrusted around the lids.

He was on all fours now, dry heaving and coughing up sand. The comforting hand had lowered to his back, patting him assuringly.

“There you go, pal,” spoke their voice.

Wonho looked up, and the first thing he wanted to ask was if you were, indeed, an angel. It wasn’t hard to imagine. Not when your eyes were bright and merry. Not when your smile seemed pure and innocent. You even wore a white dress, albeit tattered and dirty, over what looked like cotton trousers. “Are you an angel?”

You snorted, rather un-angel like in Wonho’s opinion. “No. I’m Y/n. Welcome to my island.”

Wonho sat up and squinted against the sun as he observed the small island. It looked rather empty, save the vast forest in the middle of it. Water surrounded all sides, and it made Wonho queasy to think of staying here long enough for the tide to draw in. “Did you see my boat? Do you know where it could be?”

You reached out a hand to calm his frantic figure struggling dizzily to get up. “Relax. Your boat came in before you did. I swam out and dropped the anchor. It showed up up on the other side of the island, you know. I can’t believe you drifted this far and actually managed to arrive on the shore. Unfortunately, it looks like your motor is broken or something.”

Wonho took in your words, counting himself lucky that he managed to stay alive. “Were you shipwrecked too?”

“Years and years ago. I must’ve been around five years old.”

“Oh, no,” Wonho groaned, bracing himself on all fours and struggling to control his breathing. “How am I going to get home?”

Fortunately for Wonho, you didn’t take his words offensively. Instead, you wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him up onto his feet. “There you go. We’ll get you to my hut. You can heal there.”

Wonho wasn’t sure what you meant by “heal”, until he felt a warm liquid ooze down his side. He looked down, “I’m bleeding.”

“I know. You must’ve hit some coral or something while you were floating around. I’ll patch you up nicely when we return home and make you some soup.”

“You have food here?”

“How else would I be alive?” you laughed, “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Most people call me Wonho.”

“Well, Wonho, I’m glad you washed up on my shore. It gets pretty lonely here.”

“I can imagine.”

-

You set Wonho down on your makeshift bed and began rummaging around your small one-roomed home, searching for any healing balms you had made recently. Once you found the paste, you turned back towards Wonho, who was propped on his elbows, admiring your hut. “So it’s just you?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” you replied, sitting beside him. He unbuttoned his shirt as you talked. “There was somebody else with me. A woman. She — I don’t know how to say this — she left when I was asleep one night. By the time I woke up to the commotion of the ship, it was already out of earshot. They couldn’t hear me.”

“How old were you then?”

“I don’t know,” you answered, spreading some balm over his wound. “Maybe eight years old?”

Wonho hissed, and you weren’t sure if the reaction was from your words or from the balm. “Eight? Why would she leave a child alone?”

“I don’t know. I can’t remember much before the island. I don’t know if she was my mother, or a relative, or a kidnapper. I can never remember.”

You began to tear the thin sheet under Wonho’s form. Once you tore a strip long enough, you wrapped it around the man’s torso, tying it tightly in the front. “If this starts leaking or bleeding, let me know.”

“Thanks,” Wonho said, already in the process of buttoning his shirt back up. “If you want to leave, we can. Once it’s fixed, my boat will sail us back to my kingdom. You can stay with me until you get settled.”

You tensed at his words, feeling a strange sense of urgency that you couldn’t quite place. “Kingdom? Are you a prince?”

Why does the thought of a kingdom comfort me? your thoughts swirled around your head like an annoying gnat you couldn’t bat away.

“I am,” Wonho answered. “I won’t make you go if you don’t want to, obviously. Although, I don’t know why anyone would want to stay here by themselves.”

“You kind of get used to it,” you admitted. “Now, try to get some actual rest. Dinner will be ready when you wake up.”

“You never answered my question,” Wonho said, pulling your thin blanket over his body.

“That’s because I don’t have an answer yet.”

-

Wonho was much more beautiful to look at then the sea. While he was sleeping, you unknowingly stopped to watch him.

It had been a long time since you had seen another human in the flesh, so you weren’t sure if his beauty came from actual attration or just the fact that he’s the first boy you’ve seen in over a decade.

While he slept, his black hair fell over his face, matted down with sweat. He surely wasn’t used to the tropical climate you experienced every day. Your mind went to only a few hours ago, when you were running your fingers through his soft locks in the hope of comforting him. Now you wished you could do it again.

His skin looked beautiful too. You thought back to his toned abs and chest and felt warmth spread through your cheeks.

Unsure of how to wake him, you merely tapped him on the shoulder. “Wonho? You need to eat something.”

He stirred a bit, incoherent mumbles escaping his lips before he finally opened his eyes and looked at you. “Hello, beautiful.”

You were taken back by his choice of words, unsure of what to say. You didn’t own a mirror. The closest thing you had to seeing yourself was the water’s reflection, which never worked. So you often wondered if you were pretty. “What color are my eyes?”

“What?” Wonho sat up, wincing slightly. “Your eyes? Y/e/c, why?”

“I just never knew, is all.” You shook your head to dismiss the subject, “It’s nothing. Um, I searched your boat and found your clothes and some blankets and pillows. Is it okay that I brought them here?”

“Of course,” Wonho replied. “It probably gets cold at night, doesn’t it?”

You laughed mirthlessly, “Yeah. Especially when the tide is in.”

Wonho suddenly glanced down your figure, his eyebrows furrowed. “Aren’t you cold now? Your clothes are wet.”

“Well, I had to swim to get to the boat. I took everything one at a time and wore a life jacket so I could hold them above the water while getting back to shore.”

“You didn’t need to do that!” Wonho said, exasperated. He stood up and grabbed his favorite blanket, a large wool one that he took everywhere with him. “Here, use this.” He wrapped the blanket around your shoulders and held it closed at your front. “Next time let them get wet. We can just dry them.”

“Okay,” you said, unable to stop yourself from looking into the prince’s eyes.

He seemed mesmerized too, in his own way, and pulled you closer to him. “Y/e/c. They’re mesmerizing, you know. One day I’ll take you to a place with a mirror, and you’ll get to see just how pretty they are. How pretty you are.”

“I’m not sure I’d like that,” you admitted shakily, warm under Wonho’s gaze. “It’s kind of nice not knowing. It gives me confidence.”

“Oh no, darling,” Wonho insisted, dipping his head so that his nose bumped against yours, “You have to see. I dare say that with your looks, you must’ve been a princess in your past life.”

Your heart began to beat faster, but no longer because of Wonho’s sweet words or close hold. This was because of what he called you. It felt familiar, as if you had been called it before. “P–Princess?”

“Yeah,” Wonho pulled away and sat back down, ready to have his bandages checked. “You can be an island princess.”

-

As much as Wonho liked you (which was a lot) he wasn’t sure he could stand the island. It was the ultimate game of survival, he quickly learned. All you did day in and day out was rummage for food and cook it. After that, you had time to wash up and eat, but that was it. You had no time to do anything else. If you wanted to spend the day doing something else, you’d have to give up a meal.

Wonho was afraid of the storms as well. They were good, since they were the only way you received clean water, but they were loud. Wonho already hated storms, but sitting in the middle of one and just waiting for it to be over? Terrifying.

You didn’t seem afraid at all. In fact, it was like you couldn’t even hear the roar of the thunder above you, or the bright lightening that struck a bit too close to your hut for Wonho’s liking. He had to wonder if you even felt the very foundation of your hut shaking from the wind.

It was around midnight, and the two of you were sleeping on your makeshift cots, staring up at the bamboo ceiling and struggling to ignore the rainwater that seeped through the cracks.

You were asleep, Wonho was sure, but he couldn’t even close his eyes. He turned on his side and watched you, already feeling guilty for what he was about to do. “Y/n? Can you wake up?”

Your eyes opened quickly. “I’m already awake.”

“Oh. Well, can I tell you something?”

“What is it?”

“I’m afraid of storms. I feel like crying right now.”

You looked at him. “I used to be afraid too. Especially after I was left alone. The loud cracks of thunder terrified me and made me want to hide away. Unfortunately, you just get used to it.”

“I don’t want to get used to it,” Wonho said, jumping once more as thunder clapped loudly overhead. “I want to go home, where it’s safe.”

“I know,” you whispered, “and to me, that’s scarier than the biggest storm.”

Wonho felt his heart break at your words. Even though it had only been about a week, he too had grown attached to you. The thought of leaving you made him upset. That’s why he couldn’t leave until you went with him. He wouldn’t leave you alone. He didn’t think he could.

Without another word, he lifted your arm and positioned himself under it, so that his head was rested on your chest. He wrapped his arm around your middle and pulled you as close to you as he could. It was easy to be vulnerable in the dark, especially when the sound of thunder seemed to drown out any words uttered in moments of weakness.

-

“C'mon,” you coaxed Wonho. Goosebumps ran up your leg as you stepped into the cold waves of the morning. The wind blew your hair this way and that, often obstructing your view. You pulled Wonho along with you, his large hand wrapped around yours.

He sighed, and you knew it was because he could never say no to you.

It had been around a month (Wonho had been charting the days) since he washed up on shore. Since then, Wonho had gotten more used to the island life. After he fully healed, he spent day in and day out working on his motor. Fortunately, he had a toolbox and motor oil in his boat, as he always did. All he had to do was repair the motor and then convince you to come home with him.

You wanted him to rest for the day, so you convinced Wonho to help you search for crabs. They were something easy to make, since you could boil them. Wonho reluctantly agreed.

“It’s cold!” he yelled as you pulled him in. “Why are you making me do this?”

“Because we have to eat tonight!” you replied.

“The quicker I get that motor fixed, the quicker we both can get home and eat to our hearts content. Have you ever had some really nice seasoned chicken?”

“Not that I know of. Maybe when I was little.”

“It’s my favorite,” Wonho said, his smile growing. “The castle cook used to make it for me all the time back home.”

There was that word again, and that tug in your chest, making you long for something unknown. “Can you tell me more about the castle?”

Wonho’s entire face brightened. “Yeah! There are four kingdoms. I’m the prince of the Piscis Kingdom. We’re close to the sea, and our main businesses are seafood and boating. You’d love it there. Our castle is the smallest, but it’s filled with pretty fountains and cushioned sofas.”

“What about the other kingdoms?”

“Well there’s the Equus Kingdom. They pride themselves on their purebred horses. Then the Stellae Kingdom. They use the stars to dictate how they rule. It’s pretty risky, but it works for them.”

“The last one?” you urged him, hoping something might reenter your brain. “What’s the last kingdom called?”

Wonho frowned. “The Flos Kingdom? They are still having a grieving period, so we’ve been respectfully keeping our distance.”

“Why are they grieving?”

“Their daughter was taken years ago. I can still remember that day like it was yesterday. I was nine, and my mother woke me up urgently. We traveled all the way to Flos, where all four kingdoms had come to search for the princess, who was no where to be found. We searched day and night but nothing came up…” Wonho looked up, recognition in his face, “How old did you say you were when you got shipwrecked.”

Tears were already streaming down your face. Feelings of relief, panic, and heartache filled you as you watched Wonho’s reaction. “That’s why I thought those terms sounded familiar. Castle, Kingdom, Prince… Wonho, I think I’m the lost princess.”

Wonho pulled you in his warm embrace, hoping to comfort you however he could. “But the princess’ name isn’t Y/n.”

“That’s what the woman called me. I guess she named me after we arrived.”

Wonho ran his hands down your arms. “Do you know what this means, Y/n?”

You smiled, feeling as if a crushing weight had just been lifted off of your shoulders. Years of wondering who you were and where your memories pieced in finally came together in your mind. “It means I’m going home.”

-

Wonho fixed up the motor as quickly as he could, only stopping for quick naps or meals inbetween.

Meanwhile, you struggled to pack up the things you wished to bring with you. As much as your island might’ve seemed like a prison, it was the only home you knew. It meant the world to you, and you weren’t sure you’d ever be okay with leaving it permanently.

Once your bags were packed and the motor was fixed, the two of you set off, watching your island get smaller and smaller. “I can come back, right?”

“Sure, you can,” Wonho comforted you. He interlocked his fingers with yours. “I don’t see why anyone wouldn’t let you.”

“What if my return makes the news and everyone wants to come visit the island I lived on? What if they turn it into a museum or something?”

Wonho squeezed your hand reassuringly. “Well you see, the great thing about it is that we don’t have to tell them anything about the island. I can say I found you in Aruba, at one of the inns I was staying at. We have the entire trip back to make up a story about how you bravely escaped your kidnapper and have been working to buy a boat and return to your kingdom this entire time.”

“So it can just be our little island?”

Wonho’s ears turned a slight shade of pink as you looked at him. “Yes,” he leaned down to peck your nose, causing you to giggle. “Our little island.”

-

You were shaking when you saw the docks. Your grip on the prince’s arm tightened. “Wonho? You aren’t going to leave me, right?”

“I won’t. We can just go see your parents and then you can choose whether you want to stay with them or go with me.”

“I want to go with you,” you replied instantly, burying your face into Wonho’s chest.

Wonho chuckled, sending a vibration down his chest. “At least meet them, Y/n. It would make it fair.”

“Okay,” you agreed nervously.

It was as if you and Wonho were attached at the hip, for you refused to let go of him as the two of you walked down the square. The place seemed familiar to you, but not enough to make you leave the only person you knew in the world.

“Would you like a strawberry tart, dear?” a plump lady asked from the side of the road, her vending cart filled with baked goods.

“N–No thanks,” you whispered, eyes wide at the arrangements of sweets. After living on seafood for over a decade, you wondered what a strawberry tart even tasted like.

You followed Wonho’s lead all the way to the palace gates, where your resolve began to crumble. “What if they don’t like me?” you asked. “What if they’re mean?”

Wonho turned to you, his gaze softening. “Y/n, look at me.”

You reluctantly lifted your eyes to meet his. He pressed his forehead against yours, allowing your breaths to mingle together before he answered, “Your parents are some of the nicest people I have ever met, and to this day they have never stopped searching for you. But if something feels off, or you’d just feel safer, you’re still welcome to stay with me. I won’t leave unless you tell me to.”

You nodded, “Thanks, Wonho.”

-

There you stood, hand in Wonho’s and eyes trapped on the couple in front of you. They were waiting for you to speak, but you didn’t know if you could.

The king looked regal. He looked like a man who had been through wars but still remained strong for his people. He looked like someone you could depend on.

The queen looked so beautiful. Everything about her seemed gentle and kind, especially her eyes. Her head was cocked to the side as she spoke, her voice like honey, “What is it, dear? What’s wrong?”

You broke then. Tears flooded your vision as you choked out, “It’s me. I’m your daughter.”

The queen immediately burst into tears, her hands cupping her mouth. “How? Where did you go? Did Prince Wonho find you?”

You nodded, eyes cutting to the king, who was struggling to hold in tears. “Wonho found me. I came back as soon as I remembered who I was.”

“My daughter,” the king spoke, choked up. His voice was rough and gravelly, but there was familiarity there, as if he had sung you lullabies when you were a child. He walked forward and outstretched his arms, “May I?”

You didn’t answer, but merely let go of Wonho’s hand and ran to your father. You soon felt your mother hugging you as well.

For awhile, it was just the three of you sobbing. Unsure of everything and not quite believing that the present was happening.

Your mother pulled back first, clearing her throat before she looked at Wonho. “How do we repay you for bringing her back to us?”

Wonho looked surprised at the notion, and his gaze drifted towards you. “Just give me a few minutes alone with her. That’s all I ask.”

The king and queen respected his request and left the room, signaling at a few servants to begin prepping a room for you.

Wonho grabbed both of your hands. “You’re staying, aren’t you?”

You nodded. “I need to be with them. I have to learn more about them and who I was. I have to know who I’m supposed to be.”

Wonho smiled and looked upwards in an effort to hide the obvious pain in his eyes. “I guess I should’ve seen this coming. It’s good, you know, that you aren’t closing yourself off to people. It might be awkward at first, but I’m sure you’ll come to love them just as all the kingdoms do.”

“Don’t think you’ve gotten rid of me,” you said, a coy smile on your face. “I still have to try that seasoned chicken you talked so highly about.”

“Right,” Wonho laughed. “I’m just a carriage ride away, you know.”

“I know.” You paused. “I love you, Wonho. I hope you know that by doing this I’m not leaving you.”

Wonho cupped your face then, and pressed his lips onto yours eagerly and roughly, as if to show how much he needed your words to be true. “I love you too,” he breathed against your lips before kissing you again, as if sealing a promise.

When the two of you parted, he smiled bashfully. “I’ve wanted to do that since I met you, if we’re being honest.”

You hummed and wrapped your arms around his neck casually. “If we’re telling the truth, I think you should know that you have an awesome body.”

“Stop, I’m blushing.”

“Good,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him once again.

»the end«

[jaeminlore]

Thief Pt 4 // Park Jimin

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

- Part Four: Pain

summary: in which prince jimin doesn’t know that his future wife is not only trying to steal from him, but is also trying to kill him.

words: 3,505

warnings: physical abuse, verbal abuse

category: prince au, angst

author note: oops this is late bc i had a busy day but it’s still Wednesday so it’s technically on schedule. also things are getting serious so tell me your thoughts! also I write these in third person first for my wattpad so there may be some mistakes where I missed the pronouns sorry

- destinee

-

- A harsh knock sounded on your door, surprising you out of the deep slumber you were in.

“Y/n! Wake up!” Jeongguk’ lovely shouting practically reverberated off of the bedroom walls.

You found yourself longing for Minah’s soothing voice as your morning alarm clock, rather than the prince’s loud guard. You groaned at the sound of your door opening.

“C'mon, Princess, rise and shine.” Jeongguk pulled open the heavy drapes that covered your window, resulting in the bright morning sun infiltrating your vision.

“It’s Saturday,” you argued, hugging your pillow to your chest as you sat on your sheets. “Wedding preparations don’t start for a whole week.”

“Jimin said you might like to try sword-fighting,” Jeongguk said nonchalantly.

This peaked your interest. You had owned a small dagger back at the inn, but fighting with the knife-like weapon was probably nothing compared to a real sword.

“It took me forever to convince Minah to let you come with me,” Jeongguk continued. “She said your hands would callous before the wedding, but I told her Jimin could care less about that.”

You couldn’t let the smile fade from your face. “I get to learn how to fight?”

That skill would be great to have when the entire kingdom was against you for aiding in the assassination of their monarchs.

“You should be able to protect yourself,” Jeongguk answered. “Minah is the greatest sword fighter I know, although she would never admit it. I’ll have her help you while I attend to the prince.”

“Wow,” you felt your adrenaline pumping as you thought of actually fighting. It was a thrilling to think of. “Do I get my own sword?”

Jeongguk hummed, “We’ll figure out which weight and model you want, and then we’ll talk to the smith.”

-

“En Garde!” You laughed, struggling to hold the double-handed sword Jeongguk had handed to you.

“Honestly,” Minah sighed. She grabbed a smaller sword off the shelf of the armory and handed it to you. “You’ll break your arm swinging a broadsword like that.”

“But she looks cool,” Jeongguk interjected with a smirk, his own broadsword swung over his shoulder.

Minah rolled her eyes at the younger boy, “Looking cool doesn’t help if you can’t defend yourself.”

Jeongguk rolled his eyes, “Are you going to teach her your father’s stupid defense before offense rule?”

“It’s better than your attack now think later rule,” Minah retorted, earning a smirk from Jeongguk.

As much as you loved watching the couple bicker, you were anxious to learn how to fight with the blade in your hands. “Can we get on with the lesson, already?”

Minah’s eyes averted from Jeongguk’s challenging gaze. “Right. First thing is first: have you had any previous experience with weapons?”

“Daggers,” you said. “I used it when people wouldn’t pay for their mead.”

The couple looked at you strangely. Your eyes widened and you held her hands out once you realized what they might’ve been thinking, “I didn’t kill them! I just threatened them, is all. It’s normal for innkeepers.”

“Maybe in Krull,” Jeongguk muttered under his breath. “Here, I’ll teach you the proper stance.”

He and Minah helped you plant you feet properly and hold the sword up so that a blow wouldn’t send you flying.

“Okay,” you said. “Now let’s do this.”

“Don’t be too eager,” Minah warned, although Jeongguk was egging on your excitement by feigning blows left and right. “We still have to go through the rules of defense. The most important of which is never harm an opponent unless you are out of every other option…”

You suppressed an annoyed sigh as she continued talking. Luckily, Jeongguk stood behind her, making faces at you, so it wasn’t too bad.

-

By the next Saturday, you were able to block Jeongguk’s harsh swings. He had praised you often by complimenting how much of a natural you were with the blade.

“It’s all angles and strategy,” you had told him.

“Tell that to the prince,” Jeongguk snorted as he blocked your overhead swing. You frowned at your somewhat sloppy movements and repositioned yourself.

“What?” You asked. Jeongguk swung a blow to your left side, and you impeded back, only barely dodging the steel blade. “Does Jimin not fight well?”

“He fights with his emotions,” Jeongguk answered simply. As he spoke, he swung his sword down in one swift motion.

Luckily, your reaction was quick and you were able to block it with your own weapon. Beads of sweat appeared on your brow as you struggled to keep his sword from literally slicing you in half.

“What’s going on out here?” You felt queasy at the sudden sound of an all-too-familiar voice. Your mind went back to thoughts of the day at the fountain and you faltered.

Jeongguk immediately stood up and turned, bowing ninety degrees. “Good day, Your Majesty.”

You felt yourself shrink back. In all your life living in Krull, you had met many men. You met scary men who wanted money and wanted it now. You met nasty men who wanted to pay with their body instead of their wallets. You met dangerous men who beat you when you didn’t meet the deadline they had set on their own accord.

But never in your life had you met someone as intimidating as King Park. His eyebrows were dark and always furrowed, lips pursed as if he had just smelt something horrible. His cheeks were always dark, but it seemed to be in anger rather than embarrassment.

The sword you had once held up proudly was now limp at your side. The king was glaring at you, and it finally occurred to you that you hadn’t bowed.

When you did, as gracefully as you could, the King scoffed. He walked up to you, his face dangerously close to yours as he spoke in a threatening tone, “Who told you that you could learn how to fight?”

You dared to stepped back, afraid. For some reason, your mind was telling you not to throw Jimin under the bus. You’ve faced scary men before, you told yourself, Just because this one had a crown on his head didn’t mean he was any different.

“I did. I wanted to learn so I made Jeongguk teach me,” you spoke boldly.

“Don’t lie to me,” the king hissed. “I know this was my son’s doing. That boy has been treading thin waters lately.”

The venom in his voice made you feel somewhat protective over the prince. Honestly, what had he done to make the king so angry at him all of the time.

“Jeongguk,” King Park barked, finally looking away from the future princess. “Bring Jimin to my study.”

Jeongguk looked like steel, his face set in a glare that would scare anyone. He didn’t like the king any more than you did, apparently. Still, he firmly nodded and walked back towards the castle in angry strides.

“If I see you so much as touch a weapon again,” King Park turned back to you threateningly, “I swear Jimin won’t have a wench to marry.”

You choked back your fear.

-

Minah eventually convinced you to take a bath and rest. “You’ll be preparing for the wedding starting tomorrow and there’s no need for you to be stressed.”

You sank under the warm water, ignoring Minah’s annoyed sigh and as you held your breath as long as you could.

Underwater, you felt cocooned and safe. You couldn’t shake the threat of the king out of your mind.

Had he meant it? Did he just have anger issues? Why didn’t he want you to learn how to fight?

You finally came up above the surface, gasping for air. You pushed your hair out of your face and sighed, looking over at Minah’s tired form. “Go rest, Minah.”

Realizing you had noticed her slouch, Minah straightened up and smiled brightly. “I don’t rest until you do, Your Highness.”

“Well then I order you to go rest,” you said, a smirk appearing on your lips.

“Will you be okay?” Minah asked. “I’m sure that his comment shook you up.”

“I’ve dealt with worse,” you assured her. It was very kind of Minah to serve you without complaint, but you didn’t really like the ranking system in the castle. It felt like no one could defy the king that everyone was obviously afraid of.

You felt nearly at ease, thinking of the moment the king would finally be killed and the land might be whole again.

-

Jimin walked into his father’s study, feeling scared. With the look of distaste on Jeongguk’s face and the simple he found out gaze he gave the prince, Jimin knew he was in for.

Jimin ducked his head as soon as he saw his father’s gaze. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have suggested it.”

His father slammed both his palms against the desk, causing Jimin to jump at the noise. “Did you think I would be okay with it? Did you think teaching her to fight would help anyone?”

Jimin opened his mouth to speak, his lips feeling dry, “I-I thought it would be good for her to protect herself if someone came for her…like they came for Mother.“

He felt a hand come down on his cheek, and his mind barely registered the physical pain compared to the quick and fearful beating of his heart against his chest.

”Don’t speak of her.“

Jimin nodded quickly. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, but quickly retreated when all Jimin could taste was the copper tinge of his own blood.

“Yes, Father,” he said softly.

He felt guilty and shameful. It was all his fault really. His father wouldn’t have to punish him if he would just obey and stop pushing the limits. If he would just listen and stop acting out.

Jimin could take the pain, really. He had been through a lot in his life. Pain was something he had become accustomed to since his mother died. At first, the young boy thought it was his father’s grief coming out in an extreme way. However, as he grew up, he realized that his dad had just been like that. He was just an angry man who had a lot of emotional mood swings. It was just Jimin’s luck to always be with his father when he had them.

Jimin’s gaze felt foggy as he left his father’s study. Shame found its way into his heart and settled there. He felt wrong, like he should’ve known better than to ask Jeongguk to teach you how to fight.

He just wanted to protect you, in case anything happened.

A horrible thought crossed the prince’s mind as he passed the corridor leading to your room. Had his father hurt you? We’re you okay?

He strode down the corridor before he could second guess himself. With a swift knock upon your door, he sighed in relief at your soft “Just a minute!”

When you opened the door, Jimin felt his face heat up. You were wearing a silk nightgown, with your hair was still wet from your bath, and the look seemed somewhat…appealing to the prince. Before he could embarrass himself by staring, Jimin smiled widely at you. “Hello.”

Your eyes trailed down the prince’s face, frowning as you looked at his lips. “Why are you bleeding?”

My father forgot to take his rings off. “I tripped and bit my lip when I fell.”

“Oh,” your voice was still quiet.

Jimin stuffed his hands into his pockets and exhaled, his eyes on the ground. “Listen, I hope my father didn’t scare you earlier. He’s a really good guy, just sometimes the stress of everything gets to be too much. I’m sorry if you were frightened.”

You shook your head, a soft smile painted across your lips, “I’ve dealt with worse. I’ll be okay.”

Jimin didn’t like your answer, but it was the only one he was given.

-

-

Jimin had never felt more boredom than he had sitting in his father’s council room, listening to a bunch of men fight about a wedding.

One of the young lords, a man named Alvin, addressed Jimin. “If it’s going to be a public wedding, we should invite the people of Krull to come watch. After all, it’s a ceremony to bring the two parts of the country together again.”

Jimin agreed wholeheartedly. He wanted nothing more than to show the people of Krull that he was willing to compromise with them. That he wanted to change the land he would rule for better, so that everyone would have a bed to sleep in and food to eat. Unfortunately, Jimin knew his father wouldn’t be fond of the idea. His father had always told him that it was good to keep Krull from the benefits Eden reaped. It told them who was in charge. Although, Jimin didn’t agree with this philosophy, he didn’t dare argue with his father.

The king had stated many times that a public wedding would only be held if the guests were of high ranking.

So, Jimin spoke against the lord reluctantly, “I don’t know if I like the idea.”

“Right,” another lord spoke up. “Krull is full of nothing but thieves and murderers.”

“I suppose you’re not calling your future queen a thief and a murderer?” Alvin shot back.

Jimin pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think anyone is insinuating that my fiancé is a thief or a murderer.”

-

You locked yourself in your bedroom.

You were given one day to yourself before the wedding preparations officially started, and you chose to spend it in Krull. You were desperate to see Hoseok after so long, but even more desperate to get some rum from the inn. Three bottles should be enough to get the prince drunk.

He was emotional, and from experience of working in an inn, you knew that most emotional people were easiest to get information from. They would spill their darkest secrets to anyone who would listen.

You only needed a hint. Better yet, he could slip you the key to the King’s personal office. Then all you would have to do is transfer the key to your employer and your job would be over.

Finally, you would play the innocent victim: the sad fiancée and daughter-in-law when the king and prince were found dead.

Happy with your plan, you got dressed and walked outside, where Jeongguk was waiting to take you back to Krull for the day.

-

“We’ll pick you up before nightfall,” Jeongguk stated with a clear nod to you. “Be safe.”

“I will, thank you.” You waved until the carriage was out of your sight, and then you ran into the inn. “Hobi, I’m home!”

Before you could run behind the bar and look for your friend (who seemed nowhere to be found), you was grabbed by the waist and pulled backward.

A gruff voice spoke in your ear, causing you to cringe as drops of wet saliva fell onto your cheek. “Have you got what we need?”

“Not quite,” you answered, a forced smile upon your face. “My plan of action will go out tonight, if all goes as planned, so you’ll have the key to the king’s office in no time. From there, your assassins can deal with him.”

“And the prince? How will we get him alone?”

“Leave that to me,” you said. “I’ll make sure the prince is in the king’s study when your men come in. Just say the word.”

“Good,” he grumbled. “Krull isn’t getting any better, and your customers are angry that you’ve been chosen. Requests are backed up for days and you need to be back here as soon as you can.”

“I’m doing this so I don’t have to steal for people anymore. You pushed him away from you. "I’m doing this so Krull will be a better place. I’m doing this so children won’t sleep on the streets because their parents died of starvation. This is bigger than stealing, and I know that.”

“Good.” The man nodded in satisfaction. “Once Lord Chanyeol becomes our prince, we’ll get the treatment we deserve. I’m glad you’ve recognized the greater good.”

“I have,” you said.

It was bigger than just paying off Hoseok’s debt and living a care free life. This was for those in Krull who needed help. This was for schools and homes and farms to come back from the dead. This was for a working land to become prosperous again.

“Y/n!” Hoseok’s voice broke out into a cheer as he descended down the steps of the inn. “Why are you back so soon?”

“Wedding preparations start tomorrow,” you informed him, slipping into your usual seat behind the counter. “Jimin let me come home for a day.”

“Oh? First-name basis already?” Hoseok asked, smirking when you only protested.

“Shut up. I’m actually here on business. Have you got any rum left? I need at least three bottles.”

“Three?” Hoseok scoffed. “Are you planning to kill the prince yourself?”

“Okay, two.” You rolled your eyes. “Whatever will get him drunk enough to divulge in a few secrets.”

“Two bottles of rum, coming right up.” Hoseok grabbed the bottles from behind the counter before turning around with a solemn expression. “How are you holding up? Mentally, I mean. This job is sure to take a toll on you.”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. “Truthfully, each time I meet the king it gets easier to help kill him. But Jimin is still a bit different.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know if he’s going to follow in his father’s footsteps. He’s nothing like that horrible man, and I’m wondering if we’ve got it all wrong.”

“He could be an excellent liar,” Hoseok said.

“Yes,” you agreed. “Although, he could just be misunderstood.”

-

You spent the rest of the day working at the inn and visiting your usual customers like the old days.

Even though it had only been a few weeks, you felt as if you hadn’t seen Krull in ages. If anything, being brought back to the horrible conditions, knowing the king had enough money to save it, raised a few questions in her mind.

What was the kings ultimate motive? Why was the raffle anything, if the queen was never allowed to bring peace back to her community?

You sipped the water Hoseok had given you as you thought about it. The innkeeper had already turned in for the night, tired from the lack of sleep he had been getting. He was also stressed because he hadn’t earned enough money to pay his rent. He was afraid of getting his inn taken away, so you comforted him before sending him to bed.

Now it was just you and your thoughts.

“I knew I’d find you here,” Jimin’s voice made you turn around.

“Shouldn’t you be at the castle? Where’s Jeongguk?” You inquired, peeking behind Jimin.

“Jeongguk’s in the carriage,” Jimin said, although his eyes were downcast.

You grabbed your bag, careful not to let the bottles clank together, and followed Jimin outside, into the carriage. “Thanks for letting me spend the day here.”

“No problem,” Jimin said, opening the carriage door for you to step through.

He paused and looked across the street, where three children were lying on the ground to sleep. They stared at the carriage with fearful eyes, opposite of the amazement Jimin thought they would have for the carriage.

His heart felt cold and sick at the knowledge that they would spend the night outside. He wanted nothing more than to bring them with him, but he knew he would be reprimanded by his father so he held back.

You rescued him, however, for you stopped when you noticed what he had been looking at. “What’re you three doing our here? Hoseok always has a room open for you guys, don’t you know that?”

“You’re not there to protect us,” one of the children said, his bottom lip quivering. “The drunk man might kick us out again.”

“There’s no drunk men in the inn,” you assured them softly. “If you want, I can go in and make sure you are all tucked in safely, with the door locked so no one can get in.”

The children perked up at this and ran across the street, hugging your waist with their thin, little arms.

“Do you mind?” You asked the prince formally.

“Of course not,” Jimin answered, feeling relief flood his insides. “Take your time.”

Jeongguk tapped his foot on the ground. “Your Highness, your father wants you home in thirty minutes. We need to leave now or you’ll be punished.”

Jimin watched as you pulled the shivering children into the wamth of the inn. He couldn’t believe he had lived his entire life blinded when it came to Krull and their problems. How many children had died of starvation because of his ignorance? “Maybe this time, Jeongguk, I truly deserve it.”

- to be continued -