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dani474 · 9 months

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Jiang Cheng, the Golden Core, and why it's love. [PART 2]

I ended part one by noting that the burial mound siege wasn't the end of their relationship, but it is not the reconnection of it yet either.

Jiang Cheng capturing and torturing people who cultivate like Wei Wuxian, believing they could be possessed by him, is definitely something that would make you think of hatred. So far though, he has not actually come back into contact with Wei Wuxian, neither through the constant spirit summoning or possession trials.

Checking for possession in this moment is especially important, because this is the closest he has been to finding Wei Wuxian since his death. The fact that he's spent the last 13 years doing this is. Unhinged honestly. Even Lan Wangji didn't go out searching for him.

We all know that Lan Wangji knew Mo Xuanyu was actually Wei Wuxian because of WangXian, but Jiang Cheng heavily suspects it’s him due to Wen Ning being the force corpse summoned.

No matter who might’ve followed WWX’s cultivation methods, summoning WN is probably something no one else has ever tried much less succeeded at. (Later, we learn why, as we learn how Nie Huaisang and Jin Guangyao are both playing their own game, but for now, all we know is that WN hasn’t been seen for at least 13 years.)

Later, we see that Wei Wuxian is scared of dogs, like to the point of potentially being a phobia due to PTSD, and this is what confirms his theory that MXY is still somehow Wei Wuxian even without the possession. Rather than a question of demonic cultivation, this is actual experience with Wei Wuxian's fears, personality, and thought processes.

His emotional state here really shows his conflicting emotions regarding Wei Wuxian and his return, as well.

“Don’t you…have anything to say to me?”

In the novels, it’s noted that Jiang Cheng speaks softly in reply. “You won’t repent, just as expected.”

“And you haven’t improved either.”

I think it's interesting that this^ is what makes Jiang Cheng angry, not Wei Wuxian admitting he has no idea what to say to him. This makes me think he wanted an apology or an acknowledgement in some way, rather than an explanation on how he got his body.

“It’s all your fault that Jin Ling is made fun of like he is now. Don’t you forget how his parents died!” This anger makes total sense, and unfortunately lacks the information around the circumstances that led to Jin Zixuan's death. he's not wrong though, and I'll come back to this.

Wei Wuxian also admitted as soon as he learned it was Jin Ling, that he would've never let someone speak to him that way, so Jiang Cheng's defense here is not one to criticize in general, no matter if the words here are equally harsh.

More than that though, throughout the present period, their interactions are sporadic and limited. Somehow, we go from this tense exchange to one's that begin to unravel more of Jiang Cheng's feelings regarding the entire thing.

When Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian locate Nie Mingjue’s head in Jin Guangyao’s room and attempt to confront him, he is able to attack and force Wei Wuxian to grab his Suiban, leading to his identity being revealed.

Jin Ling protests here, but Jiang Cheng is visibly unsure, questioning if the possession part could’ve been wrong despite Zidian, because of the sword unsealing itself.

This is his confirmation that Wei Wuxian has returned to the land of the living. After 13 years of searching and torturing people under suspicion (and guilt of demonic cultivation), he's making this face.

In the novels, he’s noted as looking “incredibly upset.” and also that he was “seeming to ponder what action to take.”

Unintentionally, this expression, this moment of hesitation (in a room full of killing intent mid you) reveals just how complicated their relationship actually is. Normally, if you hated someone and had them brought low, you'd take the chance to strike. We see that here with everyone else in the room, later Jin Ling (despite his own messy feelings over it), and later with Nie Huaisang.

Here though, he pauses. Jin Ling had more initiative to harm Wei Wuxian than him.

And at the second burial mound siege, Jiang Cheng led his people into the Den and was willing to consider Wei Wuxian’s theories. It’s unconscious, but he holds that judgment and intellect in high enough regard to actually approach it, rather than dismiss it. When Wei Wuxian makes himself a target, and takes Lan Wangji off with him, Jiang Cheng decides to help too, with no request from anyone. Jin Ling follows AFTER his uncle.

At the end of the fight, when everyone decided to go to Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji followed and Jiang Cheng just…didn’t say either way. And when he asks Jin Ling who bullied him, the assumption that it was Wei Wuxian here makes sense in this context specifically. Note that he uses ‘Wei Ying’ in his thoughts.

You can say what you want about Jiang Cheng, but he protects his nephew undoubtedly. Is he perfect about it? No, but I do not expect the same tenderness Yanli could give him. His own experiences with parenting shape the way he responds. Still, Jin Ling tells Wei Wuxian outright that Jiang Cheng has never hit him, and yes, he can be harsh but seems to be trying to avoid belittling him. He is actually looking out for Jin Ling's safety and actively trying to support his cultivation (just not in the best way). Then again, it's hard to change such deeply ingrained responses.

Also, I think that if we're going to call Jiang Cheng abusive (though I personally disagree) for being crass and harsh towards Jin Ling, then we should consider he is an abuse victim and hasn't broken every single toxic trait he's learned. It is not a moral failure, and it actually makes his character more nuanced. So.

Anyways, for the most part, things are ambivalent.

It’s not until Wei Wuxian takes Lan Wangji around Lotus Pier, and they do the tree jump hug thing that things seem remiss. Jiang Cheng witnesses it and sees them going to the Ancestral Hall. More than any of his harsh words towards their ‘friendship’, he’s angry because Wei Wuxian is going without showing respect to Jiang Cheng or even his parents. This is audacious of Wei Wuxian, if only because he didn’t bother to tell Jiang Cheng he’d like to visit the Ancestral Hall. He doesn't live there anymore and their relationship is still very much damaged, so honestly, I can kind of understand being upset about the Ancestral Hall being approached the way it was.

He still blames Wei Wuxian for the destruction of Lotus Pier and Lan Wangji being there is fuel to the fire. Due to his own perceptions, Iang Cheng sees this as a mockery of his parents and their deaths, so I’m not surprised he reacts so negatively. Is it strictly true or fair, no, but it’s also something they’ve never actually talked about. It’s still pent-up between them.

Note that Jiang Cheng only makes a vaguely homophobic comment after Wei Wuxian tells him to shut up (for insulting LWJ). He’s being a dick sure, but this comment was specifically to goad Wei Wuxian into fighting. It’s working. Jiang Cheng’s words after this make me think he’s angrier about the introduction of Lan Wangji to his own parents because of their ‘thing for each other.’ He clearly read the intention of a marriage blessing and I think that’s what’s bothering him the most here. Why? This: “...If you two have any integrity, you shouldn’t have come here and…”

Again. Jiang Cheng points to Wei Wuxian saving Lan Wangji as being the catalyst that destroyed Lotus Pier. This is specifically what he's referencing.

Wei Wuxian strikes first, and then they’re fighting. Which is what Jiang Cheng was looking for. He can’t totally explain why he’s upset, so he argues instead.

Wen Ning decides to tell Jiang Cheng about the Golden Core transfer because he was hurting Wei Wuxian, with his actions but also with the burden of said secret. Jiang Cheng’s reaction to this – the secret itself and his own feelings around it/Wei Wuxian – are pretty justified, and instead of starting a fight later, he mostly shares his true feelings about it.

Jiang Cheng keeps responding to it with anger, but right here, this is shock and hurt, as far as I can tell. His next words make me believe that: “Lies!” “Lies! All of you are lying to me!”

Right now, he has no idea what to think of Wei Wuxian. He has no idea what’s really happened and who’s told him the truth. It completely upheaved his current perceptions. He does ask others to try pulling out Suiban. Because he knows, on some level, that WWX’s sword should not be ‘unsealed’ and that Baoshan Sanren should’ve been much more elusive.

I think the most interesting aspect here is the result of it.

Jiang Cheng does what Wen Ning asks and once he enters the Guanyin Temple, well. Jin Guangyao taunts, throwing his confusion and whirlwind behavior in his face.

His anger here is not at all surprising, considering this is a private issue. The fact that it’s being used against him during this little skirmish is not a good sign for him. It's forcing him to acknowledge that Wen Ning was telling the truth, in a way that even unsheathing Suiban himself can't.

Jiang Cheng is upset here because he’s having all of his accomplishments since the Sunshot Campaign started questioned, diminished, and attributed to Wei Wuxian. Once again, someone is telling him that he will never be good enough, and by mentioning a golden elixir, even implies that he must ‘cheat’ in order to even match Wei Wuxian. Of course, like most people, being compared to someone this way is hurtful, and to have it done repeatedly by so many people who see that other person as more likable and more accomplished, is going to leave deep seated issues.

Still, the moment JGY threatened Wei Wuxian’s life, he was over there to protect him without a thought. JGY was intentionally riling Jiang Cheng up in order to put him in that position. With his ability to read people, he quickly realized that despite any potential anger and hurt, he wouldn’t allow Wei Wuxian to be injured, not when he’s just learned about the Golden Core Transfer. By doing this, he was able to injure Jiang Cheng as he was slower to defend himself.

In response to Wei Wuxian saying “I told [Wen Ning] so many times not to say it!” is anger first. This is probably the most blatant he is about his own insecurities concerning and his own capabilities.

He’s mocking Wei Wuxian’s choice as playing the hero and living up to their sect’s motto in the way he couldn’t.

It’s interesting that Jiang Cheng is overshadowed by Wei Wuxian to the point of viewing himself as inferior at everything; to the point of needing to question who or what he is. This sounded strange to me at first, but subconsciously people recognize that Wei Wuxian’s abilities are higher despite who he is – the son of a servant (or the potential bastard of JFM) according to what’s convenient. Jiang Cheng is lower here because his parentage is “no match” for Wei Wuxian's. The parents aren’t mentioned outright, but why else would a sect heir, and now a sect leader, be pitted against his head disciple and viewed as a failure for not matching up?

It's the same reason Madam Yu was so angry.

Because failing to match Wei Wuxian is seen as a slight against the Jiang sect. She was angry that Jiang Fengmian kept acknowledging Wei Wuxian but not his own son and heir. It’s why the gossip was so bad, and why it was getting to her. It’s also why Jiang Cheng can't help but be jealous. It's a conflict of status. He feels much lower, but his status is nothing of the sort. Wei Wuxian’s accomplishments are higher and more respected, but his place is much more tenuous.

This is not either of their faults. It’s the results of classism and parental conflict. The Jiang parent's and their personal strife leads to the belittlement of their children, and the jealousy directed at Wei Wuxian leads to a conflicting position. The son of a servant and a head disciple who should be good, but not better than Jiang Cheng. The son of Canse Sanren who's as well known as Madam Yu, but also brings her disrespect and dishonor in the rumors. Whichever causes the most tension at the time.

Also, yes, I know Jiang Cheng’s rant in the novel is much more harsh, and his actions more impulsive, but that doesn’t really change anything. People do not act rationally when they are this upset. Some of the things he says in here show how belittled he feels (ex. “You never tell me anything. You treat me like a fool!” and “What am I? Does it serve me right to be blinded by your brilliance?!”)

When Jiang Cheng lashes out here, he’s also questioning their positions, even before he says it outright. He tries to shove Wei Wuxian and we can say whatever about this choice, but to be honest, I very rarely see people who are close peers much less those raised in the same household (whether they’re allowed to consider themselves brothers or not) approach anger or hurt without being a bit of a childish dick about it. Lan Wangji is quick to interfere of course, so Wei Wuxian isn’t actually hurt.

I already noted why he’s asking these questions. ‘What am I if the son of a servant, even one taken in by my family, can outshine me in everything? How can I live up to that? Why can’t I, when I’m a sect heir? My status is higher than yours, but you are much higher than me.’

Again. It’s not intentional, but it is driven by classism, not just sibling jealousy. Being so close to one another in their youths makes his perspective on Wei Wuxian's class more flexible than his parents, but it also means the discrepancy between them, and the public opinion is much heavier. It drives those insecurities deeper.

Jiang Cheng going on to mention the deaths that Wei Wuxian caused. It’s no surprise he still blames WWX for being the catalyst in Lotus Pier’s destruction, but I think him bringing up Jin Ling's parents is different. The politics around the Wen’s attacking Lotus Pier are complicated enough that he only mentions his parents rather than the whole sect, as he did in the immediate aftermath of the attack.

Jin Zixuan and Yanli, though? These must hurt in such a specific way. Wei Wuxian is more to blame for these deaths than the others, because both of them went out into an unsafe situation to help him.

Wei Wuxian was increasingly unstable, his position on its very last leg, and his powers caused the injuries. Yanli is more complicated, if only because she was injured but would’ve survived if she hadn’t stepped in front of a sword strike meant for Wei Wuxian. They chose to protect him, in two different ways. Jin Zixuan was trying to diffuse the situation enough to get Wei Wuxian out safely, and Yanli wanted to calm Wei Wuxian down enough to control the corpses, to get him out of that situation, and more than anything -- she wanted to see him again.

Jiang Cheng’s anger is not unjustified, to be honest. Is it complicated? Yes. Everyone else's actions also caused those deaths. But emotions are not logical nor are they simple.

And then we get to the crux of the issue, in my opinion.

This more than anything is why he’s angry. Because breaking it meant Jiang Cheng could not lean on him or count on him for support, which he definitely needed while rebuilding the sect.

Because it meant his sect (and Jiang Cheng himself, maybe) was not worth protecting. Wei Wuxian did choose to protect ‘outsiders’; he may have done so because it was the right thing to do, because he owed a debt that he couldn’t ever really repay, but it is still a choice that puts the Jiang sect (JC) second. When he asks: “what did you take our family as?”, that is what I hear.

Jiang Cheng is asking whether or not he should or is allowed to hate Wei Wuxian. LWJ gets in between them and Jiang Cheng decides he can fight if necessary. And to be honest, I can’t help but pay attention to everyone's expressions when he steps closer to Wei Wuxian. Everyone looks so surprised to see he’s in pain, that he’s crying. Everyone takes his at face value, so they miss how much he carries behind all of it.

He’s so angry at Wei Wuxian, maybe even hates him, because more than anything, it hurts.

This is just all that pain and grief coming out. Jiang Cheng lost Wei Wuxian when he broke that promise, and after having lost his parents, then his brother-in-law and sister, that was all he had left.

He doesn’t understand why Wei Wuxian couldn’t tell him these things. It would’ve hurt much less if he knew the truth, I imagine. Because for this entire time, he didn’t have any explanation for Wei Wuxian’s behavior. This, honestly, tells me that he wanted Wei Wuxian to stay. We know Jiang Cheng wanted to protect him, as Yanli did, and now he knows that Wei Wuxian wanted to protect him, too.

When Wei Wuxian apologizes for breaking his promise, Jiang Cheng is upset with himself for needing it. For wanting it. He feels weak for not being able to just hate Wei Wuxian. Because that’s the thing.

Jiang Cheng asked those questions because he struggles to reconcile feeling like he should hate WWX – maybe actually hating him on some level – and still loving him.

And yes. Jiang Cheng loves him.

He may see Wei Wuxian in a position of both servitude (as his head disciple, regarding the expectations around him being a sect heir, and Wei Wuxian being of a servant’s line) and one of admiration and inferiority to. But they’re close enough to bicker and be tactile as siblings would, but not enough to be considered siblings by anyone else.

They see this causal behavior as one of disrespect, and at Jiang Cheng’s lowest and most politically unstable moments (sunshot and after), he began to see it that way as well. It��s much harder to ignore everyone shouting these kinds of things at you constantly when you have next to no one countering that perception. MianMian and Lan Wangji both tried to stop people from spreading this idea but they couldn’t. Jiang Cheng couldn’t either, and the fact that they fed into pre-existing insecurities makes them very easy to internalize and manipulate. Don’t forget that he’s literally 17-20 when this is mostly happening.

When Jiang Cheng apologized to Wei Wuxian, and he responded like this, I was questioning if he chose to do it out of obligation.

Why would he say this? Is it because Madam Yu and Jiang Fengmian asked him to take care of their children? Because the Jiang family took him in?

Or because Jiang Cheng accused him of betraying his family?

Wei Wuxian giving his Golden Core to JC is not something anyone would’ve requested of him to fulfill his obligations to the Jiangs. It was an experimental procedure that hadn’t even been heard of outside of Wen Qing and her family. Wei Wuxian chose to do it because he wanted to protect Jiang Cheng. To protect from his grief and his guilt over not being able to get revenge for their sect. To protect him from feeling inferior. Jiang Cheng was literally at his lowest point and was arguably suicidal. After bringing JC to someplace safe enough for treatment, he’d already fulfilled his duties to the Jiang family. But choosing an extremely risky procedure, to give someone a part of himself that the cultivation world considered near sacred, wouldn’t have crossed any cultivators mind.

Choosing to do it anyway. How is that NOT out of love?

It’s just that he didn't tell Jiang Cheng the truth because it would hurt him. And by hurting him this way, making him feel as if none of his accomplishments were his own, he would be dishonoring his obligations to the Jiang parents.

Wei Wuxian’s own feelings here are more complex. He’s grateful that Jiang Fengmian took him in, so he approaches the Transfer in a way that emphasizes that to reduce the sense of loss. He says as much in the novels:

If he hadn’t been taken in, he’d never have a golden core and would never feel that loss, but he’d never have met Yanli or Jiang Cheng either. So, duty is easier. But this is AFTER.

“If it had not been for Jiang Fengmian bringing him to Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian might never have crossed paths with the cultivation world. He would never have been conscious of such a mystical and magnificent realm.”

“[...] He’d have had no way of cultivating, let alone a chance to form a golden core. And at that thought, he’d feel a lot better.”

Wei Wuxian wanted Jiang Cheng to live, so he did something that would ensure it, even at the cost of his own health. Regardless of the parents, these three value each other's lives enough to risk their own. It’s shown to us repeatedly. All of these are reciprocal and are done without any need for debt or obligation.

The reason Wei Wuxian says it this way is because he thinks that Jiang Cheng shouldn’t have to apologize for his words. From his perspective, Jiang Cheng believes he should repay the Jiang family, because of how he's been saying these things.

I say it like that because Jiang Cheng doesn’t like that response. He questions it. To my parents? To my sister? And then Wei Wuxian asks them not to talk about it, to let it be in the past. He’s doing this to protect himself and yet inadvertently implying that he chose to do it because of literally everyone BUT Jiang Cheng.

It sounds like “I did this to repay your family, not for you.” and that bothers him. But he doesn’t say anything else because Wei Wuxian told him not to. Wei Wuxian said it because he thought it would make Jiang Cheng feel less betrayed. They’ve completely talked past each other and don’t even know it.

He doesn’t look relieved here. Seriously. This is not the face I’d be making if those words relieved me. His face is scrunched and his teeth are clenched. He looks pained. He’s trying to keep the rest of his tears in.

It hurts him to hear that, but he can't say anything now.

And with the reveal that Su She casted the Hundred Holes curse on Jin Zixun, Wei Wuxian is rightfully feeling that he was wronged. The moment Jin Guangyao says that, actually, Wei Wuxian would be besieged regardless and would die young, Jiang Cheng gets angry. It hurts to hear, because it ended up being true. JGY knows it and uses that to his advantage, but only after being called the son of a prostitute. (Before that, he's just generally taunting.)

By laying all the blame for Wei Wuxian’s death on Jiang Cheng, he’s hitting a surprising sore point. Jiang Cheng feels guilty over aiding in Wei Wuxian’s death. He knows that the wedge driven between them happened because of his insecurities. And he knows that by allowing the other sects to target Wei Wuxian rather than risk the sect to back him, he pretty much set the stage for Wei Wuxian's death. It took a year, but once there was a ‘reason’, he ended up with no choice but to siege the Burial Mounds. Once again, these things happened due to more than just themselves. They did not have a path outside of this one due to where they both were.

I like the detail that Jin Ling has to hold him back here, but Wei Wuxian also won’t let it slide. He immediately comes to JC’s defense once JGY starts to imply that JC killed him. (He corrected Wen Ning on this, too.)

(Side thing: They both care for Jin Ling. Yes, Jiang Cheng is rude, but he does try his best to spoil and protect him, and when Jin Guangyao takes Jin Ling hostage, he’s upset to the point that he uses the affectionate form of his name. This also causes Wei Wuxian to immediately try to help in response, due to being familiar with Jiang Cheng’s different tones.)

At the end of all of this, Jiang Cheng had wanted to tell Wei Wuxian something just before he left, but didn’t. I particularly like his expression in the manhua.

“I didn’t get caught by the Wen Clan because I insisted on returning to Lotus Pier to retrieve my parents’ bodies. When you went to buy rations in that small town during our escape, a group of Wen cultivators caught up to us. I noticed them early and left the spot where I’d been sitting to hide in a corner of the street. I didn’t get caught, but they were patrolling, and they would have surely bumped into you while you were getting us food.

So I ran out and lured them away.”

TL;DR

Like most people, Jiang Cheng’s words and actions don’t always match, and they don’t always say what he’s feeling. Can he hurt people with his behaviors, yes. But honestly, this is just how people work and isn't a sign of one-dimensional villainy. He hurts others with his actions and other people’s actions hurt him. It’s just the nature of being involved with others, and especially in loving them.

Keeping his actions within his relationships in full context is really the only way to understand his motivations, emotions, and why other characters feel the way they do about him. This is about how Jiang Cheng’s insecurities and strained familial relationships influences how he responds to Wei Wuxian over the course of their lives, how politics shaped the fallout, and ultimately why it was not duty that led to the Golden Core transfer, on either side.

They didn’t tell each other about those sacrifices – ones they made out of love for each other and with little regard for anything else – because knowing would hurt the other.

Sacrifice as a form of love is a theme between these two. Sacrifice was a form of love between many others too. Yanli, Wen Qing, Lan Wangji, Madam Yu, even. An element of obligation doesn't actually counteract that. Everyone has some level of obligation to the people around them.

Even so. They deal with their issues by pretending they don’t have issues, so of course it builds up. Of course, Jiang Cheng’s personality results in a grudge, but that doesn’t mean it’s all he feels. It’s complicated. I think with people you’re close to, it’s easy to resent them and also love them. I think they love each other, and there’s just so much pain and trauma and communication issues between them that it festers into something ugly. It looks like hate because those pains build until they explode.

I think for someone like Jiang Cheng, it’s so much easier to hate someone than to love them when it’s painful to do so.

It must have been so much easier to hate the man Wei Wuxian became – the Yiling Patriarch – than it was to remember who that person was, to him. We know that Jin Ling and Jiang Cheng are noted as being similar, and I think Jin Ling’s complicated feelings reflect this point. Jin Ling stabbed Wei Wuxian because of his parents being murdered, but also helped him and didn’t want to see him get hurt, because he came to like the man Wei Wuxian actually was rather than the big scary boogeyman. I think this happened in reverse for Jiang Cheng. Hate the boogeyman to forget the human you knew.

But, eventually, the truth comes out, and they can’t keep those things in anymore.

So to me, the Golden Core Transfer, from both ends, was them saying: ‘I want you to live.’ And how can that not be an act of love? Of devotion? We see Yanli’s protection of WWX as an act of love and sacrifice, but not this? Because their relationship cannot be easily described? Because Jiang Cheng is a hard man to work with, or even love? Because acknowledging this level of devotion might threaten the impact of wangxian? Sometimes, for better or worse, we know people who are hard to understand and hard to communicate with, but the love is there and it’s real. And for these two, I think even if the love could not outweigh the tension or the circumstances around them, they tried as best as they could. Because they both believed the other was worth it.

We know Wei Wuxian has more positive feelings overall towards Jiang Cheng, but it’s much harder to get into Jiang Cheng’s head because he’s not often the narrator. This is on purpose of course, but it also means we can miss intricate details.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t there though. And that doesn’t mean there’s no love.

LINK BACK TO PART 1

#mdzs #the grandmaster of demonic cultivation #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #meta #long post #posting these backwards for convenience on my own blog #both of these are fully written and will links added #my post #mine.txt

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scholarlypidgeot · 1 year

Note

Prompt: “You’re a disaster.” “Thank you!”

"Oh, no, you don't get to just stumble onto my operating table and not tell me how it happened. You know my rules."

Even as Doc said that, he moved about the little office. Pat stepped out of the way whenever he rushed past, but he didn't even seem to notice her. When he swept back over to the table, it was with a knife in hand. With little ceremony, he took the back of Ash's shirt and cut it cleanly down the back before pulling it off. Ash barely flinched, although she watched as he dropped the fabric to the ground.

"I liked that shirt."

He dipped a curved needle into a clear solution. "You should have thought of that before you got it torn to shreds anyway. There wasn't any hope to save that anyway."

"Well, it wasn't exactly my intention when I put it on." Ash's face twisted visibly in pain as she pulled her feet up onto the table, catching the boot heel on the edge of it as she did so that the shoes fell on the floor before she crossed her legs in front of her.

"Nothing you say can convince me you didn't go looking for trouble. Not if you turn up like this."

"It wasn't the usual kind of trouble!" Ash protested as she watched him thread the needle. "I wasn't hunting."

"The last time you 'weren't hunting' and you turned up like this—"

"I didn't go looking for him, either." She sighed. "I probably wouldn't've even come back if I did."

Pat wanted to ask a question, but this was the wrong time to interrupt, so she just watched and listened. For his part, Doc just raised a thick eyebrow as he pulled on a pair of leather gloves, the thick and durable kind that based on their condition were kept impeccably clean between surgeries. Ash sighed again, this time with a barely hidden tremor to her voice.

"I had an informant turn on me is all."

"Strong informant."

"C'mon, Doc, I wouldn't lie to you about that."

Doc stepped behind her. His face was stern, but otherwise unreadable. Ash winced again a little as he placed a hand on her shoulder to brace.

"No anesthesia?"

He barely paused.

"First, you know most of the doses I have on hand would probably kill you. Second, I know that you wouldn't take it even if I offered it to you."

"You know me so well."

"We do this dance too often for me not to."

Ash barely flinched as the needle pierced the edge of the gash in her back, and didn't move after except to close her eyes. Doc's hand rested professionally on the back of the woman he loved, the one he'd inevitably break up with by the end of this procedure. Pat hadn't been here to witness it before, but she'd seen the consequences too often in the brief time she'd worked with Ash. For now, though, they were doctor and patient, and seemed far too used to those roles.

While Doc worked, Pat could now see the full extent of the scars that laced Ash's torso. A few were long and had once been deep. But there were others, hundreds of small scratches and punctures that were silver against white skin. Her body was a map of every fight she'd endured, the scars the stars in the sky of her history. Her new injuries included the deep gashes on her back that Doc seemed to prioritize, and what must have been a bite on the inside of her elbow that was hidden under a bloodied bandanna. There were other, smaller bites from where the Seelie addict must've tried desperately to get another hold after losing the first one. There were other, less severe scratches along her sides and on her opposite wrist.

Doc interrupted the silence by saying, "You should stop paying your informants in blood."

"It's better than some of the alternatives." Ash's voice was a little strangled, but far clearer than Pat's would've been in her circumstances.

"Giving them money like a normal officer wouldn't land you on my table this often."

"Are you sure you wouldn't miss this?"

"Or using blackmail."

"You're encouraging worse behavior?"

"You use it anyway."

"Not that you can prove."

"You're a disaster."

Ash sucked air between her teeth, and then said, in a voice far too bright for someone in that much pain, "Thank you!"

Doc grunted as he tied off the knot.

------

Word Goal: 450

Final Word Count: 753

Yet another prompt from the depths of the inbox! This was originally going to be a Pat and Vlad prompt but it fit the Disaster Couple too well. Thank you for reading!

@that-catholic-shinobi @redheadedbrunette @irishironclad

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stanurines1mp · 1 year

Text

Free

FREE /friː/ -able to act or be done as one wishes; not under the control of another.- Freya Ludwig's past of solitude soon changes as she meets the main squad of the Scout Regiment. But is she just another slave of loneliness or will she find the one to set her free? From Attack On Titan / Shingeki No Kyojin, An Eren Jaeger x Fem!OC Story.

𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢

𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 ← ᴘʀᴇᴠ ɴᴇxᴛ → 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱

I almost missed the signal, my mind warped up in the entire situation. Was I really back in my so-called hometown? Supporting the massacre of innocent people?

I would've understood if he attacked the military. I would've supported him then. I would've defended him, then.

I knew I would've.

But the sight I behold right in front of me, it was too far. I never cared about people before, I know. But this was too far. They were innocent people, children.

Wasn't it bad enough that they had been treated like trash, and discriminated against for the sake of the race they were born into? But now, they had to die?

And the worst part was that I didn't understand why. In the letters he sent us, his words were borderline senseless. Maybe if he explained it all to us properly, I would understand.

And I would defend him.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on him. I had to defend him.

My gear worked well under my touch as I reviewed the lessons I earned from him years prior. My arms moved constantly as I sent Thunder Spears to anyone who dared fight back.

I didn't know how long I had been moving, non-stop sending men to their deaths. But then again, these were the very same people who found a use for me in the pits of their underworld.

And when I heard the airship's arrival, I was unsure if I felt relieved or a little upset. Either way, I followed as planned, finding ways to reach the ship. Once I managed to touch the landing, Armin greeted me with a hand stretched out.

I let our hands connect, using my energy to push myself while he simultaneously pulled me upward. I sent him a small smile before going further into the ship. I made eye contact with Captain Levi before my eyes turned left.

"Freya, it's good to see you," Zeke Jaeger greeted, his body emitting steam from regeneration.

"Wish I could say the same thing," I sighed with a soft smile.

Just a second later, I heard another zap from behind. I turned to see Mikasa entering the ship while Armin helped him.

The very one I seek for.

Eren was on his knees, his arms holding him up from the ground.

"Damn, you're a filthy sight," Captain Levi said, nearing Eren. "Did you fall into a pile of shit, Eren?"

Under normal circumstances, I would've found that funny. But instead, all I felt now was a slight tint of betrayal, mixed with a sense of longingness.

"Captain," Eren drawled out, his voice deeper than what I remembered hearing the first night we met.

I had to stand by and watch as the Captain kicked Eren to the wall. I wished I could fight for him, but what am I even fighting for?

I stood idly by beside Armin and Mikasa, just watching the scene unfolding before us. Moments after Eren was properly tied up, my head snapped to the right. Specifically, the direction of the next carriage.

Noticing my unsettlement, Armin asked, "What's wrong?"

"I heard a gunshot," I said, a little unsure of myself but I was confident I heard something.

The uneasy feeling was contagious to the others as they joined me in keeping our guards up. Suddenly, the door that connected the carriages slid open, earning everyone's eyes.

Well, almost everyone.

I took the chance to look at him. At his eyes.

And as if he knew my intentions, his gaze immediately lowered, never once allowing me to view. Feeling defeated, I turned to Jean who was holding two kids by their shoulders. I recognized almost immediately who they were.

"Who are these kids?" Commander Hange questioned, her eyes lurking from Jean to me.

"They're Warriors," I answered. "At least they're training for it. That one," I pointed to the boy with blond hair. "That's Falco Grice. And that one," I motioned to the young brunette next to him, her eyes colorful with hatred and determination. "Gabi Braun," I said, turning to the shocked faces that Armin, Mikasa, and Jean wore. "She's Reiner's younger cousin."

"She shot Sasha," Jean revealed. "I don't think she's going to make it," he added with a tone so sullen, you would be reminded of the darkness of the clouds right before a heavy storm.

And a few minutes later, Connie entered the carriage.

I remembered how his eyes looked when I first met him. And it was a total contradiction.

His grey eyes used to be filled with light, laughter as he relayed jokes that would crack me up almost always at the wrong times. But at that moment as he confirmed Jean's words with the news of Sasha's death, I saw the light dissipating from his tear-falling eye.

Armin and Mikasa rushed to Sasha's body, no doubt to display their emotions. I did feel sad but I couldn't feel anything urging to come out of my body. Instead, I felt even more confused when Eren let out a laugh.

But I can tell it was pained.

If only he'd let me see his eyes, I would know exactly how he was feeling. And I feel like Eren knows exactly what I wanted. He was just never planning to give it to me.

Then silence accompanied the tension in the airship. Even until we reached Paradis, no one had said a word. And the night died, bringing forth a new day.

But even at the start, the air was all but joyful.

I stood dimly next to Armin, a white rose tingling between my fingers. I let out a tired smile in reminiscence of the girl we lost as I tossed the flower onto her casket.

And when I returned to headquarters and kindly asked the Commander if they would allow me to see him, I was rejected and denied. With nothing more to do, I waited in silence for the others to return.

That night, I sat on the couch next to Jean in Armin's room.

"To think Commander Pyxis would go as far as to detain the volunteers," Jean sighed, his hand under his chin as he prodded the thought.

"Since they and the Scouts are so close, we weren't told in advance," Armin said. "That's also why Freya can't be touched," he added, sending a glance to me.

"I'm sure he didn't have a choice," Jean breathed out, leaning his back against the backrest of the couch. "Until Zeke's intentions are made clear, it puts us in a real pickle."

"Freya, what do you know about Zeke?" Armin turned to look at me.

"Well, when I was still in training to be a Warrior, Zeke was already the Beast Titan. And he was the oldest one among us. With a glance, you could even say that he was a caring man. But," I dolled on, "I wouldn't trust him one bit. I don't know what Eren's doing... Trusting Zeke like this," I shook my head in refusal to accept the situation.

"Did he always know about Eren?"

"No. He only knew when Reiner came back and told us about Eren. The same last name, the same doctor-father..." I shrugged.

"Hey, did that look like Eren to you guys?" Connie suddenly asked.

He was standing by the window, his back facing the rest of us on the couch. His voice was laced with darkness, no doubt from the grievance he's put through with the loss of his best friend.

And to answer his question, I could only think about all the times I wished to look at Eren. And all the times he denied me of that. I couldn't really answer Connie's question.

"Not me. That wasn't Eren," he answered the question himself. "If he's made up his mind to side up with his half-brother over us-"

"You don't know that," I unknowingly interrupted. My own words betrayed my decision to remain silent.

"Doesn't matter. We have to be prepared to cut him down if necessary-"

"I won't let you!" It was Mikasa's turn to cut off the boy's words.

"What? Are you siding with them, too?"

"That's not fair, Connie," I reminded softly, trying not to worsen his grieving process.

"I don't think it'll come down to that. Eren cares about us. You know that," said Mikasa. "Maybe that's why he's so hostile to anyone who isn't one of us."

"We'll talk to Eren. Just me and Mikasa," Armin suggested.

"I think that's good. But, do you think, maybe, if you'd let me talk to him as well?" I requested nervously. "There's something I'd like to ask him but I would prefer to be alone with him for that."

"I see," he hummed. "We'll have to persuade the Commander."

I wasn't sure if it was because everyone was satisfied with Armin's decision or if everyone just didn't want to object to him. But everyone seemed to have accepted it.

Soon after, the rest of us made our way to our rooms. And after I changed into my sleepwear, I let myself lay on the bed.

My heart was weak in all the wrong ways. And my mind was conjuring up images of the past. And the worst part?

I didn't know if I was trying to feel better or feel worse.

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casspurrjoybell-27 · 4 months

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In a Heartbeat - Chapter 46 - Part 2

*Warning - Adult Content*

Simon

The only thing that seemed off, was that Vince's head was dropped forward, as he had fallen asleep standing up, his sweat-drenched hair the only visible thing.

"Vince?"

He didn't move, and that made me that much more apprehensive.

What just happened?

My wolf whined, getting antsy as well.

"Vince?" I tried again, taking a step forward.

"You're okay?"

Again, nothing.

He was silent, so I took another step, hoping he'd just snap out of whatever the hell he was in.

My wolf whined lowly again before Vince tilted his head, then ever so slowly he raised it so I could see his face.

His eyes were closed but all signs of the pain and agony he was in had all but vanished.

I took another tentative step, raising the pill bottles in front of me.

"I.. .I'm not sure what happened but I think you should still take one, Vince. To... to be safe."

My heart nearly skipped a beat when I heard a low growl, one that if it hadn't been the dead of night, I would've chalked it up some passing betas, or even the building's air conditioning system.

And then, Vince's eyes shot open but this time, it wasn't those sapphires I had seen a moment earlier, they were gold.

Immediately the pill bottle had fallen out of hands, the sound of its impact on the floor sounding a million times louder in the stark silence.

It rattled for a moment as it rolled a couple of feet away from me before finally stopping.

They were gold, the same as back then, back when that had happened.

And my grip on keeping it together like I had in the bathroom was shot out the window.

My brain was on overdrive, the same intimidating eyes boring into mine that day replaying over in my mind.

My wolf was whining, coming more to the surface of consciousness as I could feel myself slipping, becoming overwhelmed with uncontrollable shaking.

I stumbled backward, tripping and landing on my butt, petrified but finding it hard to turn away from Vince's foreboding presence.

He didn't move towards me, didn't have to, as I shuffled back until my back hit the wall.

I let out a strangled cry.

But the way he was staring at me, devoid of any emotions, was unnerving.

The way his head slightly tilted, as if he was looking at me for the first time.

Vince looked down at his hands for a moment before looking back up at me, his expression softened.

And suddenly I had a strange thought...

'His wolf,' my wolf whined.

'Not Vince. Of course,' I thought.

'His wolf.'

Something we once thought was impossible and now he was standing right there.

I wasn't sure what to feel.

Elated that Vince's wolf was back or to fear what would happen with his wolf right here in front of me.

Even my wolf was hesitant, letting out a distressed whine at our revelation.

And with every step Vince, no, his wolf took toward me, I could hear my heart pounding against my rib cage faster and faster, my breaths getting shallower and shallower.

My teeth were chattering against each other, as I continued to press myself against the wall, wishing it could just swallow me whole.

His steps were deliberate, excruciatingly slow as if debating whether it was okay.

And honestly, it should have been.

Under normal circumstances, being with your fated pair and their wolf was supposed to be a joyous, momentous occasion.

But I couldn't get over his glowing eyes, the intensity of them staring me down.

And even after years of my wolf yearning to be with Vince's wolf, he was shaking just as badly, fearing what he'd think.

Would he hate us too?

See the things I've done to myself and toss me aside as well?

I clamped my eyes shut, knowing I wouldn't be able to deal with that again.

His wolf growled and as I peeked my eyes open, I could see him approach me abruptly, kneeling as his face got dangerously close to me.

His lips twitched, nostrils flared.

I was shaking like a leaf, as I tried to avoid looking at those golden orbs directly.

I didn't like this one bit, not when his wolf was such an enigma.

Any wrong move and I feared he'd attack, even kill me.

He let out a snarl, baring his teeth so I instinctively put up my arms, even though I knew it would do nothing to protect me from him if he really meant harm and then the snarling stopped.

To my surprise, his wolf let out a whine.

Blinking my eyes open, I saw his expression soften again, his hand reached out tentatively before taking my arm gently, rubbing his thumb gently over the scars there.

It was such a gentle gesture, one that I had never expected.

He continued to run Vince's fingers over each fading and raised line that marred my arms, letting out small whimpers along the way.

And as scared as I still was, I could feel the tenderness and warmth of the bond, and I was slowly starting to feel myself slowly unraveling myself from the cloak of fear.

My wolf hummed, enjoying the sensation while still keeping a layer of caution in case anything were to turn awry.

His hands traveled to my shoulders, as he leaned his head forward, resting his forehead against mine.

And as much as I wanted to revel in the gentleness and affection, with his wolf wearing Vince's face, it just felt like a false sense of security.

Like Vince would snap back into control at any moment and he'd push me away in disgust.

I wanted this, really did but I needed to know that Vince felt the same, that he wanted this too.

Michael was right about that.

I needed to be sure that they were both on the same page, that they both wanted this or this would fail.

His wolf whined again as if sensing my distress before moving his head to my shoulders, his hand traveling down my side, resting lightly over my hip.

He whined as he touched the area where that scar was.

I gulped, as I reached my hand on top of his, gently removing it from my shoulder.

"Vince," I told him.

"Give me Vince back."

His wolf growled, placing his hand back on my shoulder, as he turned his head on my shoulder.

My skin tingling from his breath on my neck.

"Please," I pleaded but he buried his nose in the crook of my neck, eliciting a sharp gasp from me.

I could feel the corners of his mouth turn into a grin as he continued to breathe down my neck.

I tried pushing at his shoulders but he didn't budge.

"Stop," I urged.

"Vince wouldn't want this."

He growled against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.

He tilted his head just a fraction and I could feel his lips parting, his teeth dancing across the base of my neck.

Hovering just over the spot where mates were supposed to mark you.

Fear flooded my senses again, despite the pleasant sensation from his presence, I couldn't help but fear how polarizing his behavior was to Vince's.

Surely Vince would never warrant this, no matter how badly he could want that title back.

No, a part of me was certain that Vince would never do this and I couldn't let this happen.

No matter how much I had wanted this, this wasn't right.

So I mustered up whatever courage remaining I had left and growled at him back, pushing at his face.

He whined, before trying to nuzzle my neck again but I placed my hands firmly on his chest.

He gripped my wrists tightly, his nails elongating as he lunged forward but luckily, Chase arrived before he did anything.

Vince's head snapped toward the door, as Chase gave us an inquisitive look.

His wolf snarled at the intrusion, glaring at Chase like he was ready to murder him.

"Stop," I pleaded.

"It's just Chase."

His wolf just growled louder, as his nails dug deeper into the arm he was holding to keep me behind him.

Chase didn't move, didn't even blink as if standing his ground near the doorway.

I tapped on his shoulder, trying to get him to listen to reason.

"Please, he's here to help you."

He tightened his grip on me, his nails breaking skin in some areas so I pinched his arm.

He snarled before giving me an unreadable look.

I gulped, before sliding my hand toward his wrist, holding it gently.

I stared at the intimidating gold eyes and said pleadingly...

"Please, stop. You're-you're hurting me."

Like a switch, he released me, before his eye blinked.

With an aloof face, the gold eyes faltered, returning to its natural blue, before flicking back to gold.

He let out a whine before placing a cautious hand on my cheek, the elongated nails gone, replaced with ones I was more familiar with.

'Don't go. Please. Don't leave.'

I couldn't tell if it was his wolf or Vince speaking but it left a cold pit in my stomach hearing that tone.

His wolf's golden orbs stared at me with a softness I've never seen and then it flickered to Vince's blue ones, seemingly struggling to pick either of their conscious to settle in.

'I won't. I'm right here. I'm not leaving,' I told them, unsure which of the two was there.

'I promise.'

And like that, Vince's eyes returned, before fluttering closed, his body going completely limp as he collapsed in my arms.

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frogsandfries · 8 months

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Ugh

All this fucking drama over moving my brain drug. If I was ever diagnosed and this formally medicated for having proper ADHD, can you fucking imagine the mess of switching pharmacies? This isn't even a controlled substance and I'm getting THIS much trouble?!?

Look. I work for insurance. I know what a fucking nightmare, failure, mess insurance is.

Yes, first-hand, I believe we need to tear the entire structure down and start from a basis--yes, starting with the government "by the people, for the people" actually being for. The. People.

All.

The people.

All. The poor. The black, the brown the yellow the red, the religious, the spiritual the neither religious nor spiritual, the land owning, cow owning the nothing owning. All. If it can use language and needs to eat food and walks on two legs. If it uses drugs and "pretends" to be disabled. Whatever the circumstances. All humans. Every single last one of them, no matter how detestable I personally find them.

Deserves to have health care.

Deserves to be actually represented by this fucking shamble of a government, goddammit.

Making it mandatory that I personally individually go out and find an insurance company to provide me with insurance was not a step forward. It's part of the reason so many people are now under employed. Employers don't have to find and provide insurance for someone who's only working part-time and it's bullshit. That never would've happened with unions in place. Unions would have bullied employers to continue to employ people full-time WITH insurance, but that's another rant.

Anyway. All this to say, I'm irritated that such a normal average prescription is causing so much trouble and frustration.

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elibeeline · 2 years

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I am stuck in gran canaria because ✨️thunderstorm✨️

#under normal circumstances we would've landed by now #but because we had to check out of the last hotel we've been moved to a five star hotel for the night #so i suppose there's worse places to be stuck #i just wish i had signal so i could call and text instead of using my brother's phone #because i have a feeling that this flight will also be delayed and i will not be able to work #so now i know for the future that i need to include an extra day or two on the travel insurance #bc it definitely will not cover any extra days than we've already had #as long as im back in the uk by the end of tomorrow i'll be alright bc i can do calls and stuff #but i've been the only one in a group of 14 to not get any signal because my sim contract won't let me connect to a network #im getting homesick and i miss my bed and my friends and my plants and my stuffies and ive had enough of it #i've decided that im not getting much sleep tonight bc its already 2am and breakfast is at 7:30 #i just really wanna go home :((#i could also go for a fucking cigarette but i didnt bring a vape out and its not like i can ask to borrow someones

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impaladolan · 4 years

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Capture - Grayson Dolan [9/-]

summary: after a wild night, and an amazing slumber, you agree to have a “normal” day with him.. in which you found out his name.. finally..

warnings: smut, kinda fluff-ish, & swearing

a/n: sorry that it takes me literally years to come out with new capture parts. i’ve just been very unmotivated and i just haven’t been able to put my thoughts into words lately. BUT this is finally part nine and i hope you enjoy ! <3

You braced your body for a hard fucking.

Even in the hazed state of drunkenness, where you could hardly make out the few feet in front of you, your body ached and shivered for his touch. Just feeling the warmth of his tall stature standing behind you created some sort of barrier of relief, like you could feel safe within his arms.

Which should be far from the truth...

You heard the echoing sound of his pants falling to the ground with a thud, while his shirt flew over your head and landed on the floor in front of you. Still, even in the weakness of want and need, you contemplated an escape. You knew you'd never succeed, but it was a thought trapped in the back of your mind at all times.

It felt like it had been forever since he last touched you, when in reality, mere seconds.

You almost cried out for him, but you soon felt the coolness of his hand travel down your spine, eliciting a soft whimper to cascade from your lips. His finger pulled the brim of his shirt up your body, just enough to fully examine your backside like it was a precious artifact. You arched your back to his touch, sighing as both of his hands slid up your sides.

Not a word slipped from his mouth as he slipped his hands beneath your thighs, aligning his hard cock with your drenched pussy, roughly pulling you closer to him.

“What made you think you could get into Daddy’s alcohol?” He questions as he finally sinks in, filling your center’s walls until he no longer could. You held your breath as he stretched your pussy achingly slow, a groan escaping his mouth as his girth becomes surrounded with your warmth.

“And snoop around my office like a fucking bad girl?” Just a slow as before, he retracts his hips from yours, watching as your breathing becomes erratic. “D-Daddy!” You scream when he roughly thrusts into you without warning, beginning a quick pace that made you squeal.

He drew his hand back and laid a harsh slap against your ass, guiding his other hand to your shoulder to hold onto for stability. His own breathing became ragged as his cock reached depths into your pussy, unlike any other guy ever had. His reddened tip brushed just delicately over that body-numbing spot that made you squirm and want to shriek with pleasure.

“God, you’re so fucking tight.” He murmured breathlessly to himself, which only furthered him to want you more. He travels his free hand back down to your slick folds, adding quick circles with his thumb to the hood of your clit. Your mind was too slow to comprehend the amount of ecstasy the man behind you was bringing, but you knew you had to be close to combusting around his sunken cock— and you could hardly wait.

He was close too, his movements became ragged and he too was in a state of euphoria where he couldn’t decipher what’s wrong from right.

“I-I’m so fucking close, Daddyy.” You drug out, hiccuping when he brushes over that spot over and over, like he knew that that’s where it made you shiver and yelp for him. You didn’t wait for a response. Instead, you came all over him— falling apart in his grasp.

And he did the same.

He breathed a soft moan as he came undone, shooting his hot spurts of cum up into you, his chest heaving up and down from exertion. Soon enough, he pulled away from you. The warmth of him and his body leaving you sprawled out upon his desk like it had never happened.

You turned over to lay on your back, exhaustion tightening upon your heaving body. If allowed so, you would've fell asleep right on his desk. Possibly even lay down on the floor, for your room seemed like miles away and your legs weren't stable enough to balance on anyway. Your eyes were already shut and your mind became clear, unbothered by anything surrounding you.

Even he had escaped your mind, all until you felt your shirt unravel down your body, shielding the bareness of your skin. He cleaned up the mess that the two of you had made, and tucked a piece of lose hair behind your ear.You didn't care to open your eyes, but your heart seemed to beat a little quicker as he picked you up. His touch was delicate, like you were a priceless piece of art. And he even walked gracefully, slow and simple steps until the warmth of another room struck your frozen face.

His embrace was so comfortable, soothing even, and you couldn't help the heaviness of your eyelids. You were halfway asleep before he laid you down on his bed and lifted the silky smooth covers over your body.

"Goodnight, G." You weren't sure how, but you were capable enough whisper that little phrase. His heart fluttered, a smiling drawing his lips and he just had to bend down and leave a sweet kiss on your cheek.

"Sweet dreams." His once harsh voice was softer than he had ever used it, something familiar that you seemed to have known a long time ago..

Your dreams swept over your fulfilled mind, and a deep sleep fell over you.

Your eyes fluttered open and a golden splash of sun had seeped ever so quietly through the window of the room in which you were peacefully sleeping in. You were sunken into the pillowy surface of a gigantic bed, the fluffy duvet covering you entirely and some more. In the imaginary book titled "Top Five Sleeps I've Ever Had," you'd have to say that waking up like this had to at least be pulling in the top three. It was so warm and comfy, and the likelihood of you ever moving from such a position, was very rare.

Now, the man, snoring like an angel would, beside you, shouldn't feel oh-so normal. In fact, anyone with morals and common sense would be outraged and have thrown a fit. After all, he's a stranger— who's gone as far as to kidnap you and hold you captive for however long it's been. But, if we're being honest, you've lost all sense and mindfulness by now. You're flatly surviving with your emotions at this point.

He is pretty attractive though...

Your eyes had nothing else to do except roam his exposed backside, the sunlight sculpting all the creases of his uniformly patterned muscles. And his soft hair, placed angelically upon the pillow where the rest of his head laid. If only it were under different circumstances, would you then and only then consider his affection and presumably put it into a relationship.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you that it's rude to stare?" His hoarse voice rose just a little above a whisper, a temporary chuckle flooding from his lips as well. "I'm admiring, not staring. There's a difference." Although you followed with an eye roll, your lips were twisted into a giddy grin and the roundest part of your cheeks became a rosy pink.

"Still quick-witted, huh?" He began as he rolled his body over to face you. His lips were a swollen red, just enough to leave a small peck upon— only if you could. His hazels were glistening after a long yawn emptied from his mouth, which unfortunately you're extremely contagious to. You open your mouth to replicate what he had just done, but your yawn is stopped short when his soothing words seeped from his lips.

"I wish it were back to normal, like the old days. With me, waking up right next to you." He began as a cheesy smile curved his lips. "Talking, laughing, deep conversations, debating, arguing— everything that we used to do, I want it back. I want you to remember who I am, to remember us."

"Then show me." You subtly demanded. His eyes flickered wider as his cheeks turned into a pinkish-red. Within an instant, he threw the covers off of the two of you and quickly scrambled out of the comfortable bed.

"C'mon." He held out his hand for your own, and with a nice smile you took it. He pulled you up from the bed and onto the chilling floor with ease, soliciting a short giggle as you stabilized your aching body upon your feet.

No matter how peculiar this situation is, you wanted to at least try to have one normal encounter with him.

You kept your hands intertwined as he led you from the room and down the hall towards the kitchen. He only let go when he was in reach of the coffee machine that he as nicely set atop the counter of his large kitchen. “Coffee, M’lady?” He curved one of his brows as he turned on the high tech machine as you happily nodded.

You haven’t had a warm cup of coffee in a long time, it seems...

Your stomach began to hurt from all the endless laughing you've been submerged in, reminiscing on your own childhood stories as well as his college adventures for the past couple hours. The two of you left the kitchen and your empty mugs awhile ago, and now you both were comfortably settled upon the expensively clothed couches that were strategically placed in the large living area.

Your mind is at such an ease, talking to a man you’ve somewhat grown to know in this morning.

The way he talked and expressed himself reminded you of someone you used to know, a long time ago. And it made your head fuzzy and clueless, irritated that you couldn't exactly pinpoint who he really was. Once the laughter had subsided, and the never-leaving question once again clouded your mind— you just had to ask.

"Who— Who are you?" Your voice was so curious, so innocent and in need of an answer from the man you've been so desperate to know for ages.

He didn't reply straight away. Instead, he focused his glistened orbs on the likes of yours, reaching depths it never had before. He intakes a large, deep breath, blowing his exhale out through his nose as his chest fell in a relaxed sigh.

"Grayson," He solemnly began, standing from his former seat and taking a few steps towards you, "Dolan." He crouched down before you as his lips sealed, his shaking hands falling onto your shoulders and gracefully sliding up your neck, resting upon the warmth of your cheeks.

You mind tumbled as your tongue wouldn't lather a word to permit from your mouth. You froze, unable to move or even think clearly as realization courses through you.

"It can't be.." You were eventually able to stutter, bringing your hands up to lay flat on his own. A single tear fell from you eye, and Grayson shuttered..

He's dead.

And so am I.

to be continued...

#dolan twins #grayson #ily #dolan twins smut #dt #ethan dolan #ethan grant dolan #grant #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfic #grayson dolan smut #graysondolansmut #dick grayson #graysonbailey #graysonbaileydolan #smut #ethandolansmut #ethangrantdolan #grayson and ethan

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hansolmates · 4 years

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jeongguk; a royal exchange (02)

feat. the rom-com college!jeongguk x princess!reader au no one asked for

she’s the man!au where the princess impersonates her brother yoongi in order to finish his degree on time while yoongi is thrusted into princely duties. jeongguk is in the mess purely through room arrangement.

notes: p.2 is a straight up roll of pure crack and fluff. lil sexy for like .2 seconds. super self indulgent and inspired by the princess diaries. princess is stressed the whole time and we live to see her suffer

w.c: 7.1k

01, 02

“I’m sure this is probably the hundredth time you’ve heard since you’ve landed, but welcome to Illyria! The palace welcomes you to your new home away from home.”

“Ho-ly,” Jeongguk slaps a hand in front of Taehyung’s offending tongue, in case swearing is forbidden on royal territory. Wouldn’t want their scholarships taken away over Taehyung’s potty mouth.

“Excuse me, Mr. Hoseok, sir?” an exchange student from a university in New Zealand (yet Korean-born, ironically) pipes up, “why does the infrastructure of the building look like that?”

The student is referring to the ravines of gold metal that stream the walls of the palace. While the architecture is classic, the sheen of the metal definitely gives it an air of regality.

“Good question, Namjoon. The castle is wired and designed after our main export, Illyrium. The element was discovered in the early 1850s in what is now the ruins of Oros,” Hoseok quips brightly, patting the stone affectionately. “It has a conductivity percentage of 106% percent, more than silver. It is also quite durable.”

Namjoon’s deep laugh echoes throughout the pavilion, “I was just asking because it makes the castle so beautiful. Thank you.”

Jeongguk takes the time to snap more pictures of the castle, switching between his Sony and his phone. He zooms in on a low balcony overlooking the terrace they landed from. A figure rolls into his shot, stumbling barefoot with a ruby silk robe swishing between steps. You’re tired, sleep-laden as you clutch a snow white mug between your two hands, leaning your elbows against the metal bearing. You’re staring at nothing and everything, glazed over your backyard that seems to stretch on for eons.

“You’re right,” Jeongguk marvels at your visage between his lens, “absolutely beautiful.”

“Can I please get a better assignment, Jimin?”

“Your highness,” Jimin frowns, following after you, “you love teaching the exchange students, what has changed?”

“Exactly, Jimin,” you sigh, stopping in the middle of the hallway. Jimin’s nose nearly bumps into yours, “nothing has changed. I teach students every quarter, the same subjects every time. It’s not to say that I don’t love teaching,” you exhale, blowing into Jimin’s honeycomb bangs, “but can’t I have a more challenging assignment? Conversing with dignitaries, renovating the town square, I’ll even do culinary!”

Your poor secretary squeaks, pushing up his rose gold iPad to carve some distance between you two. “You-you know those jobs aren’t suitable for a Princess,” Jimin cuts himself off once he sees your eyes soften in defeat, “b-but! I’ll see if Hoseok would be willing to take on another class? And maybe we could arrange a presentation to the King in regards to your proposals?”

“Right,” you smile sadly, folding your arms and stretching the tight blazer your mother forced you in, “as if another Google Slideshow will impress him.”

Jimin squeezes your shoulder, as if he could tell you all the things he could never say through body language. “Showtime’s in two minutes, your highness.”

You nod, making haste to the large double doors that lead to the main living room. Normally, the scholarship program’s presentation is done in the throne room, a big show of bravado and an ego booster to your family. However, this particular class is entirely post-grad and under ten students, so you figure they were placed in a more intimate area for the sake of comfort.

Jimin pulls a lint roller out of nowhere, careful to catch every bit of dust that dares meet your presence. You tug uncomfortably at your collar, and give the signal to the door bearer. You fight the urge to flinch at the usual bombastic announcement.

“Introducing, the Princess of Illyria!”

The students and staff are bowing when you enter, and you send a look to Yoongi, who only offers you a lazy smirk. It’s a look you’ve feared since childhood, an explicit tell that he knows something you don’t. Nevertheless, you tack on a smile, standing in front of the ten students who are still dutifully lowered. You have to hand it to them, the undergrads would already be turning heads to get a peek at the princess.

“You may rise,” you voice floats. As mother always said, your voice must replicate a dandelion seed, bouncing in the wind.

The student directly in front of you elevates, a pair of doe eyes taking his sweet time to appreciate the view.

Jeon Jeongguk gives you a lazy smirk, mirroring your brother’s. The smile evaporates from your face, taking in the handsome man that you lived with for two months over two years ago. His eyes have certainly not lost their spark, but his hair is trimmed and showing off his forehead. A Sony camera wraps around his neck, held tightly by a strong pair of hands. He’s even dressed brightly, wearing a navy blazer over a plain white tee and a pair of dark jeans. Something twinges in your heart when you see that a familiar pair of black combat boots remain.

Jeongguk is the first to break eye contact, deciding to at least pretend to care about Hoseok’s presentation on the flatscreen. An overplayed video about Illyria’s history drones on, while Hoseok and Jimin are exchanging schedules in between. You’re sure that Jimin is passing on your word about choosing not to teach this quarter, and now it’s personal.

This urges the students to take seats on the couches, while staff floats around with various pastries and refreshments.

Your family takes their respective seats, and you fight the urge to pinch Yoongi as you hiss, “You knew about this?”

“Surprise,” Yoongi sing-songs, munching on a linzer cookie. “I handpicked all the students.”

“Couldn’t give your sister a heads up?” you snap hotly, making sure no one was looking as you pop a whole cream puff in your mouth.

“Sorry,” Yoongi leans over the shell of your ear, “Your hot ex-roommate is here, just wanted to let you know before you eat the dessert table.”

You mouth a fuck you, taking a stab at him under the table with your heeled foot.

After Yoongi’s not-so-subtle reveal of each other’s identities in a crowded Chinese restaurant two years ago, you’ve since cut off all contact with Jeon Jeongguk as you resumed your life as Princess of Illyria. Simultaneously shocked, but not surprised due to the obvious hints of suspicion, Jeongguk had forgiven your lie and allowed you to leave in good spirits. You remember leaving him at the front door of your dorm, hugging you warmly and bidding you safe travels.

It confused you, because it would've been easier to leave if Jeongguk had gotten angry at the complete breach of trust and kicked you out.

Hoseok is now presenting a slideshow of the intended schedule and itinerary for all students. You’re now glaring at the back of Jeongguk’s head, trying your damn hardest not to shove three brownies in your mouth in the presence of guests. Your tiny dessert spoon picks pathetically at the measly crumbs, and Jimin is urging you to smile from his position opposite you.

“And as always, our lovely princess will be conducting our class on Modern Illyrian Anthropology and will be organizing your field studies!” Hoseok practically shouts across the room, where you’re sitting wide-eyed with your family. You feel Yoongi reach over to dab the crumbs off your lips, enjoying your suffering.

You shoot a look at Jimin who was supposed to take care of things, and he gives you a pained expression that reads don’t fire me.

With a tight-lipped smile and feigning ignorance to Jeongguk’s interest in you teaching, you reply to the expectant students, “It’s always a pleasure to teach, I promise to not bore you with Illyrian history, that’s Hoseok’s job.”

“Hey!” he scrunches his nose, then turns to the students who are hiding their giggles, “Better get on her good side if you want a nice field assignment.” he warns good-naturedly, giving you a mock glare.

You suppose giving Jeongguk a field assignment far, far away from the castle.

After the long-winded presentation and a handful of brochures, the royal family is escorted out to retire for the day. As the youngest in the family you're the last one to leave.

Out the doorway you hear Taehyung utter, "That's her? What a babe!"

As to not arouse suspicion, it takes longer than anticipated to get a private moment with Jeongguk. No one but Taehyung and Jimin know of your circumstances, and it is to remain that way due to the fact that you and Yoongi committed fraud, royal or not.

Jeongguk is a quiet student, surprisingly. Choosing a seat by the window, he spends most of your classes doodling and looking out the pavilion. As stimulating as Namjoon and Irene’s questions are, you’re a little disheartened at the fact that Jeongguk has made little effort to talk to you, even if it’s as impersonal as classwork or office hours.

Today Hoseok’s teaching, and that gives you ample time to work out where you want to assign the students for field study. You’ve shaken off Jimin for now, and you’re currently roaming the halls with your phone, checking off your schedule.

Called the Museum of Modern Illyrian Art for Namjoon … check.

Sent staff to the villa in prep for the kiddies’ weekend getaway … check.

Sent e-vites and physicals to the Genovian royals … next.

Find a quiet corner to stress cry before 2:30—

A hand flies out of nowhere, grabbing your waist roughly and throwing you in a small room. The hand clasped over your mouth swallows your scream as the door shuts tight.

The captor turns on the singular lightbulb, grinning at you like a madman. “Hey Princess—what the fuck!”

You grimace, putting down your switchblade that was dangerously close to Jungkook’s jugular. “What the hell, Jeongguk! I could’ve killed you!”

“Dang, princesses are something else nowadays. Where on your body are you hiding knives?” Jeongguk marvels as if he wasn’t ten seconds away from being dead!Guk, patting down your lavender pantsuit in a way that’s highly inappropriate. “What are you, Ty Lee?”

“Self-defense secret,” and under your breath you add, “and Mai’s the one who hides knives. Ty Lee’s the acrobat.”

The grin easily returns to the tall boy’s face, burnt eyes shining against the naked bulb. This is the most emotion you’ve got out of him since classes started, and it’s doing nothing to ease the butterflies in your stomach. “So, come here often?”

“To the storage closet?” you snort, “not particularly.”

“And where’s a place I can go that you do come often?”

“My office hours,” you deadpan, “in which you haven’t visited, by the way. As a friend and as a teacher, I’m insulted.”

A low whine erupts from his throat, and he leans against the shelves, long arms spread across the three-ply toilet paper. “But your little secretary’s always there. It’s awkward when we’re not alone. I don't know if I should act like a friend or a student. Speaking of, where is he?”

“Ah, Jimin’s getting Starbucks.”

“Lit, can you tell him to pick me up a pink drink?”

“No,” but you send a text to Jimin anyway. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“I’m supposed to be coming back from the bathroom,” he air-quotes, “AKA, running around the palace until I can corner you.”

You sigh, fiddling with the hem of your blazer.

“Are you annoyed at me?” and for a second, Jungkook’s eyes betray a hint of vulnerability. “Am I being too forward? Or do you not want to catch up? I don’t know, I figured you’d be excited to see me but you’ve just been so busy.”

“Jeongguk,” you put a hand on his shoulder, ceasing the rambling. He opens his mouth to add more, but you squeeze his bicep. “I’m not annoyed at you. I’m annoyed at the situation. I’ve missed you,” you offer him a shy smile, and he returns a small, hopeful one in return, “but you’re right, it’s been really busy with the usual duties and I’ve been a little on edge with keeping things together without letting any secrets out.”

You’re also confused as to why you’re still harboring feelings for him, but that’s another secret you keep to yourself.

“Well, your duty is doo-dy.” Jungkook huffs, but is placated by your confession. “Don’t worry Princess, I’ll think of something.”

A knock startles the both of you, and Jeongguk squeaks, brandishing a plunger in defense. With a dainty finger, you push the plumbing tool back to the ground, as the knockings did not stop.

“Ohmygod—am I going to be beheaded for kidnapping the Princess?” Jeongguk panics and checks his phone, realizing his bathroom break turned into a straight up game of hooky. “Do you guys still behead? I mean if you’re pulling out knives from who knows where—”

“Guk, relax,” recognizing it immediately as a code between you and your brother, you swing the supply closet open.

Yoongi looks between the two of you, gauging the situation. When he notices that no, you two did not just romp between the 3-ply and were in fact only talking, he huffs. “Losers,” he mutters under his breath, hiding a grin as he leaves you two to splutter.

It’s already well over twenty minutes past your class time, but Taehyung just wouldn’t shut up.

You can’t blame him, he’s thrilled that you managed to snag him a field study with your personal couture designer. He’s lit up like a good boy on Christmas eve, getting his present early. He’s gushing about how excited he is to use authentic Swarovski crystals and rub noses with the fancy fabrics.

“I’ll make you the perfect dress for the upcoming gala, Your Highness.” Taehyung’s vibrating in a manner you never imagined on a human before.

“Thank you,” you reply awkwardly, “I’m sorry, but what gala are you referring to?”

He shrugs, “I’m sure there’s a gala you have to go to sometime. I’ve just always wanted to say that, makes me feel special.”

“Tae,” Jeongguk is sitting on your desk, heels bumping into the mahogany. With a stiff jerk of his head, Tae’s lips morph into an ‘O’ and he finally gets the hint, bowing to you and scurrying off.

“Y’know, his fashion’s kind of eccentric.” he nods over to the excessive fur lining on Taehyung’s slippers, “I’d make sure your designer keeps a close eye on him.”

“And what do I owe the pleasure of your presence,” you click, “twenty minutes after class?”

Jeongguk has the audacity to roll his eyes, rolling his head back to crack out the stiffness. “The chamber choir, really?” he exhales, dropping the itinerary you spent the better half of your nights preparing.

You raise your eyebrows, “What? It pertains to your major.”

“For the past six years all I've done is eat, sleep, and breathe music,” he says, and you’re suddenly reminded that you had a glimpse of that version of Jeongguk two years ago. A slave to the music, as much as he loved the subject, it sometimes felt like a tether that weaved far too deeply under his skin. “Can’t my field assignment be something different? More eclectic?”

“Do you have anything in mind?”

“In fact, I do.” Jeongguk lolls his head to the side, chestnut bangs falling softly. “For my field study, I want to shadow the Princess’ duties.”

You slam your hands down, standing up so you’re nearly nose-to-nose with the young man. “Are you crazy? Do you want Yoongi and I to get caught?”

“Listen, I’ve thought about it all throughout class—”

“—what? You didn’t listen to my lecture?—”

“—and today in class you mentioned that you graduated with a Master’s in Public Affairs, because in fact I always listen to you,” Jeongguk presses a finger to your lips when you try to cut him off, “and lo and behold, one of my minors was in public affairs! What better way to get more experience in the business when I have the master right in front of me?”

“I don’t know, Guk,” you try, mulling through all the possible situations and horrors that could occur because of it.

“Princess, we’re killing two birds with one stone!” Jeongguk pleads, giving you the puppy eyes, “not only do I get a far better field study assignment, but it’s far better because I get to spend more time with you!”

You hate how absolutely weak you’ve become under his gaze. In the span of less than three weeks, Jeon Jeongguk has re-entered your life like he never left. He wanted to spend time with you. The selfish part of your brain says you wish the same. Who are you to deny such a simple desire?

“Fine,” you spit out, putting up a front and pretending to be annoyed, “but you better not get all huffy around Jimin.”

He shrugs, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “Worth it.”

“You’re different,” Jeongguk states bluntly, actively ignoring the way Jimin tries to push between you two. Jeongguk continues to press into your shoulder as you weave through the gardens. You’re picking flowers for a specific theme arrangement and pattern. A diplomat from Spain is coming and he is bringing her young daughter. You've heard that she’s recently taken in interest in constructing flower crowns.

“Well, two years can do that to a person,” you reply airily, dropping a tiger lily in the wicker basket Jeongguk insisted on carrying.

Having Jeongguk follow you around like a duckling is fun, to be frank. Jimin is no longer hyper-focused on you, forcing him to spread his attention between you and your overly-attentive student. Jeongguk can’t attend every single one of your events because some of the information’s sensitive, but when he does it makes your job feel less of a job and more like a fun group project.

Like when you and Jeongguk would stumble in the farmer’s market every Sunday morning, hungover but aching to fill your bellies. You two were walking zombies, forcing yourselves out of bed to feed yourselves. But it was always fun because you were together, whenever it was Jeongguk’s turn to pay, you’d sneak in more KitKats for yourself. Whenever it was your turn, Jeongguk would smuggle more cartons of banana milk.

“No, no. It’s not that,” your friend admonishes instantly, “your personality’s still the same, even though it was Yoongi-fied. Your heart hasn’t changed,” you turn your head sharply towards a field of carnations, concealing your flush. “I mean, you’re more confident.”

“In other words,” Jimin pipes, looking up from his iPad, “an air of regality.”

You scoff, putting a hand on your hip and looking expectantly at the two boys. “You’ve changed too, Guk,” you reason, shaking your head. “Old Jeongguk wouldn’t be wearing white dress shirts and shoving princesses in closets.”

“You shoved the princess in a closet—!” Jimin starts, having half a mind to cancel the field study all together.

“Well, Old Jeongguk didn’t have a chance to really get to know you,” Jeongguk twirls a baby’s breath between his fingers, tucking it in-between your ear. “That’s New Jeongguk’s job.”

“So, you’re the Princess’ head of security,” Jeongguk tilts his head to look up at the slightly taller man, his visage covered by a pair of shades. The bodyguard is never really present, only when citizens enter the castle or you’re out of town. “You know you’re inside, right?”

The man only slightly inclines his head to acknowledge Jeongguk’s prodding. Hmph, he looks like a talker.

“If you’re her head of security,” Jeongguk leans closer, trying to avoid any further attention to his conversation, “do you know where she hides her knives? Because sometimes she wears those tight pencil skirts and I can’t help but wonder—”

“That’s classified.”

“Alright, where do you hide your knives—”

“Also classified.”

“Jeongguk,” you relent, sliding your footrest next to your throne, “leave Seokjin alone and come here, please.”

You can’t blame him. It’s always been a pastime of yours to ruffle Seokjin’s feathers, but you must admit that meeting with citizens is a long and frankly, boring process. The routine is fairly simple, the citizen bows and offers something for the table, and in return you lend your ear and offer assistance if possible.

“For your table, Your Highness,” the next citizen bows, carrying a foil-lined tray filled with fresh baked bread.

“Smells delicious, Bertrand.” you beam, ripping open the tin to snatch a hot slice off the top. Rosemary and thyme are egg washed atop the brown bread, and you proffer a piece to Jeongguk, as you could imagine the poor guy is as antsy as ever. “And may I introduce you to my student, Jeon Jeongguk? He’s studying my diplomacy for his field study.”

Bertrand tips his head, “Lucky you, she’s a true leader.”

Jeongguk nods shyly, nibbling on the crust. “Truly an honor.”

Jeongguk offers to bring the gift to the table with the other offerings across the room, and you nod, conversing lightly with Bertrand. His worries are simple enough, he feels pressured by a catering request from an Illyrian Duke, and wishes to serve a party fit for a royal. In resolution, you offer to send a palace chocolatier and chef to help with the preparations. Jeongguk returns to his seat next to yours just as Bertrand leaves. He pulls up his iPad, feigning notes that he should be writing while observing you.

The next citizen hobbles over, holding a large ivory wicker basket covered by a beige tarp. “For your table, Your Highness,” they bow, “I hope you like omelets.”

If you weren’t on the throne with an audience of one-hundred, you’d be delivering a very confused expression, coupled with panic. “May I?” you inquire, forcing a smile as you lift open the tarp.

In the basket there are two small jars of marmalade, and one huge chicken sitting fat and proud that its skin overflows between the gaps of the wicker. Its head twitches in your direction, barely turning because its neck is hugely bulbous with excess weight. Its beady little eyes mock you. It smells fear.

“Her name’s Dixie,” the citizen supplied helpfully.

“Holy shit,” Jeongguk whispers next to you, but not soft enough for it to not echo in the throne room, “Dixie, you are a thick chick.”

“Jeongguk!” you exclaim, which causes the whole room to reverb at your shrill cry.

Of course the chicken has to freak out, flapping its wings and freeing itself from the confines of its package. The animal dives for you, and you press yourself as much as you can against the throne. Jeongguk knows no bounds, throwing himself in front of you to catch the large bird. Feathers weave unto his umber tresses as the bird meets gravity, Jeongguk unable to calm down Dixie.

It’s more or less a wild goose chase (chicken chase?) after that, Jeongguk follows Dixie down the platform and around the throne room. The citizens and staff are clutching their stomachs in laughter, endeared by the young man following the chicken. Jimin is laughing and slapping Seokjin’s shoulder, his face breaking in an unabashed smile.

And you can’t help but laugh along with them, trying to smother your giggles by covering your face with a silk fan. You peek over the thin fabric to see Jeongguk looking especially concentrated on his mission. It wasn’t like the chicken was going to escape the throne room because the doors are closed, but surely it will be a workout as Dixie’s a trooper and isn’t going down without a fight.

“Don’t worry Princess, I got this!” Jeongguk’s voice reassures you from the far edge of the throne room. He’s taken a break, but the glint in his eyes show he’s committed to catching Dixie as she scuttles in circles.

He flashes you a breathtaking smile, all gums and pearly whites as he runs a hand through his wavy locks. Your smile falls slightly, and you clutch your fan tighter at the realization. Oh, you are besotted.

“Hoseok’s had me on my back about teaching a full class before your weekend getaway but I’ve long decided,” you lift your chin haughtily in a way only princesses do, jutting out your lip in confirmation, “that you should enjoy the time you have here. Summer’s almost over. You all should get a headstart on your packing so you can get to the beach early.”

Your class erupts into hoots and hollers, the Powerpoint presentation about the minerals of Illyria long abandoned. Two months have already passed, and in a couple weeks they’ll be saying their goodbyes. A twinge of sadness hits you as you relish in your students’ happy smiles. As each semester passes, each group leaves something behind you’ll never forget. This summer, as much as you taught them, you’ve learned a lot from them as well.

Students are already starting to pack up, but Namjoon’s butt is firmly planted in his seat, raising his hand. “Sorry, I have a question.”

You smile goodnaturedly, already used to his usual spiel. “I can email you the Powerpoint and we can go over whatever you want on Monday.”

“Ah, no. I was wondering if you were coming with us,” Namjoon mutters sheepishly.

You’re surprised, even moreso when Irene and Yerin insist that you should go. “Yes, you have to go!” Yerin bounces in her seat.

“Oh,” you blush, “I can’t. I don’t normally go on these things, wouldn’t it be weird to have your teacher at your party?”

“Hell no!” Yerin gasps shamelessly. It’s one thing you liked about this class, after class is over, they always managed to make you feel normal. Maybe it’s the closeness in age and education, but they remind you so often that you’re still young. After all, they weren’t Illyrian, and while outside of class they put on the whole shebang for you, it didn’t take long for them to get comfortable around you. “We can show you what real college life is like! We can roast barbeque on the beach and tell scary stories!”

Taehyung snorts, already halfway out the door, “I’m sure the Princess doesn’t wanna see you shitfaced in the ocean.”

You placate Yerin with a small smile, “I have to work after this, but I’ll see what I can do.”

Namjoon walks up to your desk as the rest of the students file out. He runs the spine of his journal along your desk, “Prince Yoongi and Hoseok will be there too, if it makes you feel any better. Hope you can come.”

The room is soon vacated, leaving you and your Star Student alone.

“‘I’ll see what I can do’, really?” Jeongguk rolls his eyes, plopping himself atop your desk. Your eyes snap to the way the dark denim cords around his thighs, and you make a deal of slamming your laptop shut. “C’mon, of course you wanna come. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

“Not really,” you admit. “I used to really like spending the weekend at the villa. I loved getting to know each class and know what it feels like to be like you guys,” you downplay yourself, stuffing books and electronics in your briefcase. “But ever since we roomed together two years ago, I can’t bring myself to go anymore. It’s not the same when you’ve actually had a taste of it.”

Jeongguk’s eyes soften at your confession. You could feel that he wasn’t prepared for your honesty, and you don’t blame him. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I leave in two weeks, you know.”

“I know.”

“Can you at least try to come, for me?”

You lift your head up to reach his eyes, looking equal parts nervous and vulnerable. You’re suddenly thrusted back to two years ago, cornered in your dorm room where Jeongguk was upset at the thought of hurting him, lying to him. You didn’t want to hurt him, or yourself.

But as Jeongguk’s large hand reaches across the desk to your smaller one, you don’t think to pull away.

“Your Highness!” Jimin interrupts the two of you, and Jeongguk snatches his hand back with a glare. Jimin ignores him, looking breathless as he leans against the door of your classroom. “Your 3 o’clock is ready. We have to hurry if we want to get through the crowd.”

With one last look, Jeongguk excuses himself, brushing past Jimin with a gruff “Bye, Princess.”

“Today’s not your day to meet with citizens,” Yoongi mumbles next to you, looking disapprovingly at the way you wait for the next citizen to approach you.

Seokjin holds the crowd off as you converse with your brother, who looks ready to leave to the villa. He’s dressed in a plain white t-shirt, foam slides and baggy slacks. If it wasn’t for the family crest proudly presented on his right breast pocket, he could easily be mistaken as the average citizen. “Mother insisted,” you reply shortly, growing more irritated by the second.

“Really?” his brows disappear under his bangs, “because from the way she said it, you were looking for work.”

Caught, you turn away from his watchful gaze. “I have a problem, okay?” you say stiffly, “I needed a distraction.”

“Alright,” Yoongi shrugs, leaning close to your ear to murmur, “where’s the dead body?”

You slap his arm, “Yoongi! I didn’t kill anybody!”

“At this rate, it looks like you’re wasting yourself away.” Yoongi replies bluntly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “C’mon, Loverboy was all pouty in my room not too long ago. Don’t disappoint him.”

With that, Yoongi turns on his heel and walks off. Citizens bow at him like dominos as he exits, your break definitively over.

Whatever is blooming between you and Jeongguk, is and never will be fair to the both of you. In your eyes Jeongguk isn’t the type to settle, not relationship-wise, but life-wise. He wanted to grow and cultivate his art, and taste freedom every step of the journey.

You weren’t freedom or growth, and you could only hope he realizes that before you become too selfish.

“Your Highness?” you break out of your reverie when a young woman your age looks at you shyly, “My name is Wendy. I didn’t get anything for the table but, I got you a caramel macchiato.”

She brandishes a venti iced caramel macchiato, condensation dripping from her fingers. Your face lights up, accepting the caffeinated drink. “I really needed this!” you perk up immediately, taking a sip and letting the cool flavor soothe your tastebuds. “Thank you, Wendy. What is it that you request?”

“Advice,” she admits, a blush creeping from her neck. She looks down at her work boots, caked in grime. “I’m an engineer who works in manufacturing Illryian technology.”

“We are eternally grateful for your service to this country,” you reply evenly. Engineers are highly revered in your country, as your economy is dependent on their brilliant minds.

“But I have fallen in love with a man who is under my station, and wishes to find work elsewhere,” she bites her lip, her eyes growing glassy. “I haven’t told him my feelings yet, however I’m also worried for my family who finds men like him to be unworthy of an engineer like myself.”

“Ah, bound by duty and expectation.” you reply grimly, “a rock and a hard place, huh?”

“Yes, forgive me for my crassness. I felt as if you would understand my predicament.”

Putting your drink down, you reach for her hand. Oil and dirt cake her fingers, and she attempts to pull away as to not soil you, but you hold on tighter. “Tell him how you feel, Wendy.” you whisper, a conversation so intimate it’s only proper it be for her ears and her ears only. “Whether he leaves or not after you tell him is his decision. However, I assure you it will hurt far more if you don’t give yourself a chance.”

Her voice cracks, “But what if it doesn’t work out?”

You start to feel a little teary at her candor, and you run a thumb over her palm. “Then you’re one heartbreak closer to happiness. Nevertheless, you are a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman. Don’t let your fears reject that.”

Wendy finds the strength to squeeze your hand, and you belatedly realize that if this piece of advice was personified, it’d be slapping the shit out of you.

“You came!”

Hopped up on bitter caffeine and potential regrets, you stand in the living room well past midnight, party in full swing. Jimin trails behind you sans iPad, feeling lighter in a pair of trunks and a black tank. A playlist of Namjoon’s organizing is blasting from the surround sound, coupled with the flatscreen television projecting an intense lap of MarioKart. Irene and Taehyung are shoulder to shoulder, concentrating on getting that Mushroom Cup. The sliding doors that lead from your villa to the beach are cracked open, wide enough to hear the conversations the other students are exchanging.

It was always nice to have your villa occupied like this. Less empty, more familial.

Yerin is the first to greet you, throwing her arms around you and smelling like seasalt and vodka. She’s drenching your clothes, clad in a yellow polka-dot one-piece. “This weekend’s gonna be killer,” she whispers in your ear, causing the hairs on your neck to rise. For a petite thing, she really wastes no time cutting to the chase.

You detach yourself, holding up a bag of pastries. “Snagged some munchies for your inevitable drunk crash,” you smirk, placing the container on the kitchen island.

Yerin gapes, red tinted lips mouthing an ‘o’ at your language. “You’ve been hidin’ out on us, haven’t you Princess?” Yerin then brushes past you, ready to get her fingers on the confections. You’re over her shoulder, pointing out both Illrian delicacies and pastries she’s familiar with.

After Irene snags the Mushroom Cup they’re joining you at the island, lips coated in powdered sugar and jam. The girls laugh when some powdered sugar gets into Taehyung’s hair, Irene patting him a little too hard on his bangs.

“You’re here!”

You whip around to see Jeongguk sliding the glass doors hurriedly, bare feet slapping across the tiled floor to reach you. He’s dripping wet, ocean water rivering around his body. Your eyes can’t help but follow the flow of the cool liquid, finding purchase between the planes of his chest and honeyed abs, glowing from the heat.

Three years of your life were spent studying preparation and execution for war or nuclear threat. Unfortunately, at this very moment you feel way more prepared for war than Jeon Jeongguk standing in your villa, looking like that.

Instead of the usual pleasantries, you hold up a leather wallet. “You left this in the classroom,” you chide.

It’s a baldfaced lie. Somehow, Jeongguk’s wallet had conveniently ended up in your office between reams of paper. The bastard himself has the audacity to feign surprise, coral lips gaping in relief. “Wow, Princess. Totally not a ploy to get you to come here.”

“Right.”

“Give it here, I’ll drop it off in my room.”

“Wait, wait!” you hold up both your hands, centimeters away from Jeongguk’s pecs. You’re nearly eye level with them, and you force yourself to look up at his smug face. “You’re dripping wet on the tile! Your feet still have sand you heathen! Do not get our carpets dirty!” you hold the wallet to your chest protectively, “where’s your room?”

He tilts his head adorably, droplets flecking from his slicked back mane. “Third door on the right.” he doesn’t dare to argue with your sudden passion to keep your villa clean.

You nod, “go enjoy the water. I’ll be right out.” You don’t give him a chance to reply, kicking off your sandals as you reach the cosier part of the villa. Soft carpet meets your toes as you pad off to the guest bedrooms.

Jeongguk managed to snag the corner room, albeit smaller, it’s a single with a full mattress. You see his Superdry backpack open on the floor, its bottom worn with the white lining peeking through. Despite only arriving in the afternoon, his fresh scent is palpable. You drop the wallet on his desk, and you notice that his laptop’s still on.

The Macbook Pro glows confidently, his screensaver revealing a photograph of you on your balcony.

“Snooping around, Princess?”

You whip around, seeing Jeongguk appear fully clothed, running a towel over his hair. He is no longer dripping water or sand, but he still smelled like salt and fire. He nonchalantly closes the door behind him, taking a seat at the foot of his bed.

“You know it’s illegal to take unsolicited pictures of royalty, right?”

“And who should I answer to, hm? The Princess?” he teases, face blooming from the fluffy white towel.

You’re not upset about the picture, he knows that. But there you sit, slumped over his desk, looking forlornly at his picture of you.

“I’ve locked the door,” Jeongguk pipes up, looking at you worriedly. “Yoongi mentioned that the room’s are soundproof. He said you looked upset today. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

The room feels smaller, swallowing you whole. You’re tired from today’s events, both emotionally and physically. Jeongguk is having nothing of it, reaching between the two of you to pull the arms of the desk chair, wheeling you between his thighs.

“Jeongguk,” you start, “why weren’t you mad at me when you were right? Right about me hiding something from you.”

His brows furrow, “You made a sacrifice and protected your brother. Why would I be mad at that?” he says honestly, “sure, I was upset at first. Who wouldn’t be? But you did it out of love.”

You smile wanly, knowing that there wasn’t going to be a chance that he’d be upset at you. It was out of your devices. “I wanted you to be mad,” you admit, wringing your fingers between your skirt, “it would’ve made it easier to leave.”

“It would’ve, wouldn’t it?” he replies, his voice cotton soft. “After you left, Yoongi wouldn’t let me talk to you on the phone. Said you needed time. But I got him to tell me stories about you, stories that made me realize that I missed getting to know you.”

It’s then you feel the weight of today express itself onto your cheeks, the wetness dampening your skin. You feel his thumb brush away the tears.

“Tell me,” Jeongguk requests softly, “tell me what you really feel.”

You let your head collapse in his hands, relishing the warmth and comfort it brings. “I feel hurt. And confined.”

“More,” Jeongguk bids, his other hand squeezing your thigh, “let it out, Princess.”

You are a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman. Don’t let your fears reject that.

“I miss acting like fools at the grocery store, falling on top of each other half-asleep.” Everything tumbles out shamelessly, like a waterfall. “I hate how frustrated I am when you call me Princess, because while it is my title, it turns me on in the most devastating way when you say it.” you drop your head in the crook of his neck, embarrassed to see his reaction. “I want to laugh with you, hold you, I want you, so badly. But I want you to be happy, to make music and art, and travel the world to find your muse,” you shake your head, pushing yourself away from him. “I feel so stuck here, I can’t hold you back when you’re free and—”

“That’s enough bullshit,” and he’s kissing you, a clashing of teeth that has you sensitive and reeling. His hands grasp your cheeks, and you’re stumbling in your chair as the wheels make moves on their own. You squeak against his lips before you’re wheeled back to the bed. Hot hands pull you forward to teeter your body onto the bed, keeping you in place.

The man in question breaks apart, but close enough that his lips brush against yours when he speaks, “I’ve never kissed a princess before,” Jeongguk says wryly, cupping your cheek, “but if you make one more gripe about freedom and your stupid self-righteousness and I’ll stop.”

A pure, unprepared whine escapes your lips, shame be damned.

“You’re my muse,” he plants a kiss on your forehead, “I bothered Yoongi for weeks, working tooth and nail for that scholarship,” a kiss on both your nose, “you’re what it means to feel free.”

And that’s all it takes for you to surge forward, toppling over him until he’s pushed against the headboard. Capturing your lips with his, you catch droplets of saltwater and a flavor that’s so distinctly Jeongguk, feeling high off the taste.

Your skirt rides to your waist, your underwear damp from the ocean and arousal. You straddle him, feeling so unbounded and free as Jeongguk lets you do what you’ve both wanted to do. With a roll of your hips Jeongguk grunts, forehead pressed to yours. “Princess,” he rasps, meeting your thrusts, “we have until Christmas to do this, no need to rush.”

Wait, Christmas?

Jeongguk grins, kissing away your surprise. For now, you’ll ignore the burn between your thighs. “Before we left today, Yoongi and I asked the King, your father, if he would consider extending my scholarship for a full semester. I mentioned that Yoongi and I had some unfinished projects from undergrad,” he pecks your lips, “and he’s going to help me produce a full album for my final thesis.”

“That’s amazing!” you cheer, pulling him into a hug. “I’m so proud of the two of you!”

“Mhm,” he nuzzles your neck, pressing featherlight kisses to your skin, “can’t produce anything without my muse around, so I’d say Illyria is the perfect location.”

Your fingers thread into his damp locks, and you feel your heart swell with happiness. Here, under the gaze of the beautiful boy who wanted to offer you his heart and his world, you felt free.

extra.

It takes the strength of both your hands to pull Jeongguk in the storage closet, but it isn’t like he’s putting up a fight anyhow.

“Come here often?” you drawl, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Impressive,” he chuckles, “usually it takes you an hour to shake Jimin off ya. It’s only been thirty-five minutes.”

“I just wanted to show you something funny,” you pull up your Instagram, and play the featured video. While it was posted weeks ago, it started to pick up traction after Yoongi liked the post this morning. Jeongguk is dashing around the palace, sweating bullets and cooing “c’mon Dixie!” to the sprinting chicken in the throne room.

“You’re viral!” you giggle, “you put Illyria on the social media map!”

Under the lowlights, it’s still easy to see Jeongguk’s skin has gone placid. “If I ever hit it big, that shit better not haunt me,” he groans into your neck.

“Please,” you roll your eyes, “every famous person has a backstory. Aubrey Graham had Degrassi and the Yodeling Wal-Mart boy–”

“Are you really gonna compare your boyfriend to the Yodeling Wal-Mart kid? Tell me what you really came here for,” And like a teenager, Jeongguk reels it back in, winding his hands around your waist. He gives you bedroom eyes like it's a session of Seven Minutes in Heaven, “so, we’re gonna make out or what?”

#jungkook #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfic #jeongguk #jungkook fluff #kpop #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #jjk #royal au #college au #bts x reader

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xbellaxcarolinax · 4 years

Text

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) 8- Discovery

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 2780

Warnings: None!

7- Obedience

...

Artemis had learned that although snow is beautiful, it can turn into deadly sheets of ice when the temperature dropped low enough. She came to realize that the hard way, slipping along the streets of the city when completing her tasks. She had even fallen once, the sharp jagged edges of the ice cutting a gash above her brow.

It was superficial, but it had bled, much to her annoyance. When she had returned to the cabin with blood leaking down to her chin, Ivar didn't hesitate in laughing, mocking her for being weak. How could one who was born among hot plains become accustomed to an icy hell?

Winter appropriate boots were issued, a tiny delight in an otherwise tasteless life. They were surprisingly of high quality, the interior made of rabbit fur that kept her feet especially warm. Accroding to Ivar, it was no act of kindness. He would just tire of seeing his slave bruised up and bloody from her clumsiness.

More days passed, but the winter seemed endless. Artemis grew accustomed to her new life, though she was still struggling to accept it. In the early days she'd often cry herself to sleep, feeling an overwhelming loneliness suffocate her. Now, her emotions were blurred, and she began to view the world with apathetic eyes.

Sometimes, when she stared off past Kattegat's harbor, she'd imagine herself drifting away on a tiny boat. Her ancestors were masters of the sea, why wouldn't she be able to find her way back home? But it was just a fleeting thought.

She pushed herself to assimilate as Helga had often suggested, acquaintancing herself with other thralls and finding herself with Aria for company. The Irish girl was quite the character and would be considered a woman of loose morals in Christian lands. But she was kind, and had the skills of a homemaker, teaching Artemis mending techniques whenever she had the chance.

So far, life in Kattegat was extremely bland, cold, and uneventful.

The welts on her back healed quickly, scarring minimally with the help of the healer's salve. She supposed she had Ivar to thank for that, though she'd hate to admit it.

Whenever she thought of Ivar, she'd compared him to winter itself. His demenor was frigid, just like icy winds the seeped through the cabin at night. She had no idea what to think of him anymore. Sometimes she feared him, as most did, and other times she felt bad for him, watching him disappear into the mountains to grieve his losses.

Sometimes, she followed him, only to hear his gut wrenching sobs. In normal circumstances, she would've sympathized, but he was far too complex to simply understand his behavior. There were many instances in which he decides to ignore her, while on others he couldn't stop running his mouth, glancing at her with the curious eyes of a child, as if trying to work a puzzle.

That particular night had his curious eyes locked elsewhere, on something of extreme value. Artemis watched Ivar analyze a golden chalice, his ocean eyes admiring the craftsmanship and details of its design.

"What have I done to offend you this time, hmm? If your eyes could, they would kill me," She hadn't realized she was glaring as it was second nature to her now. She was always glaring.

Looking away from his eyes shining in the candle light, she continues to mend his breeches that had laid forgotten on her lap. Ivar was constantly destroying his clothing from dragging his body everywhere, and now she was constantly mending them, a tedious task that she hated.

Ivar sat slumped over his desk, his ale untouched to the side of him. He turned to eye Artemis, who sat by the fireplace, her mending forgotten again. Her skin glowed with the shadows of the fire and her pale eyes shone brighter than anything he'd seen before. The contrast was striking and Ivar couldn't bring himself to look away.

"That cup...it was stolen from the monestary in Crete, " Artemis finally answers quietly, turning to look at the shadows dance across his chiselled face.

"And what does it matter?" Was the boyish reply, "What is so important about this cup that your eyes wish me ill?"

She watches the fire for a moment, the embers hissing as they burn and crackle loudly against the quietness of Ivar's chambers. She wondered if Bjorn had gifted him the chalice. It was to no surprise to her that Ivar had in his possession the very chalice that was to be blessed for holy communion. Was Ivar feared so, that he recieved gifts to keep his anger at bay?

"Skilled hands made that chalice,"

"And what of it?" Not understanding, he sucks his teeth in annoyance. She wasn't a seer to be speaking in riddles. He focused his eyes on her as she laid his breeches on the fur rug, meticulous in sticking the bone needle into the thick fabric.

"I made it, Prince." She replies with equal force, holding out her calloused hands as if to prove her worth.

Ivar looks at her small hands, noting the lack of smooth skin, but it could have been due to her labors since arriving to Kattegat, and so he simply sucked his teeth unimpressed, waving his hand in the air aimlessly to dismiss her statement.

"You jest," He says, fingers gliding over the small pearls embedded perfectly into the gold, "This is fine work. Not even my people have learned to craft such delicate ornaments," Vikings made weapons of destruction, not dainty items to be viewed like a beautiful woman on display. Kattegat had only seen items such as the chalice when his father returned from his first raid in Lindensfarne. Whatever fine items they had, such as jewelry, were mostly traded or stolen from the Baltic lands.

Artemis frowns at his comment.

"My father and I were employed by the abbot. He had commissioned the gold chalice in your hands, as well as all the other gold and silver that was stolen from the monastery,"

"You lie."

"I do not." Ivar's huffs, glancing at the gold again as if he was just seeing it again for the first time. It was impressive work, even he had to admit.

"You can forge silver and gold?"

"I am the daughter of a blacksmith, I can forge any metal I please," The pride could easily be detected in her tone.

"Hmm." There was silence after that.

Artemis turns back to the mending, picking up the bone needle and staring intently at the tears the were left to mend. She couldn't focus on it, pulling the thread around as if she were actually completing the task.

"And that is why you were in the monestary," Ivar breaks the silence again, "To deliver the items." Turning the gold chalice this way and that, he put it to his smiling lips as if testing it. She grunts in reply, moving to work with the tough fabric.

"I suppose you aren't the whore we thought you to be," Ivar smirks, eyes peering at his slave who sat quietly by the hearth. He was half expecting a reaction from her, but instead she remained quiet, closing her eyes tightly and inhaling deeply. She refused to say a word. She wouldn't.

"I'm quite surprised you were allowed such an upbringing," He continues to taunt, "If women aren't allowed to fight, then how could you have learned the trade of men?" She remains quiet still, trying to ignore him as she poked the bone needle into the fabric with difficulty. She would need a lot more practice.

"You may speak freely, Artemis." To this she turns her head, shocked at her name name spilling from his lips so easily. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts before answering.

"I studied alongside my brother. He was to be the true heir, until he passed from plague," Artemis kept her eyes on the threading of the garment, distracting herself from Ivar's gaze, but it didn't help, "Someone had to help with the family business, even if it was a daughter." The memories of her father flashed in her mind, causing those melancholic feelings to resurface.

The man lost a wife, a son, and now a daughter. What did he have left?

Her hands begin to shake, causing her to prick a finger. She hisses, nursing her finger quickly before glancing at Ivar.

Why was he frowning?

"No mother?" He asks.

"She died when I was a girl of the side sickness,"

Ivar remains quiet, only looking at her with eyes that were less menacing and more...sympathetic. It must have been a trick of the fire. The fire makes people see what they want to see, and she had always wished for his gaze to be kinder. It was just a trick.

"I did wonder why you cannot complete the tasks a woman should," He breaks the awkward silence with a snort, "You were raised by men." He then tosses the golden cup towards her.

She catches it easily, watching the metal gleam beautifully with the colors of the roaring fire. Her reflection on it's golden surface revealed her frowning face. Ivar was right, for once. She was not the best cook or seamstress, as those tasks were expected from a woman to complete with efficiency. But her mother had passed when she was young, and Artemis didn't have the guidance that a young girl should from a mother, and there was only so much a father could provide.

"That is true," She begins, "But I can forge metals better than anyone," Well, she couldn't possibly be the best. She was still young, and with age came experience, but she was extremely skillful, and had learned so much already. She casts one last look at the chalice, thinking she'd never see it again.

Ivar eyes twinkled with mirth as a smile stretched across his pale face.

"Oh? Shall I put you to the challenge?" He was grinning now, like a mad man. Artemis ran the pad of her thumb over the rim of the chalice, her chalice, while looking at Ivar from under her lashes.

"What did you have in mind, Prince Ivar?" Ivar didn't hesitate in his answer, leaning forward in his chair as he focused all his attention on his slave.

"I am in need of a new axe, one to aid me in England. Have you ever forged one?"

The axe was the first large piece she had learned to make as it was the weapon of choice for the Emperor's soliders. Artemis hides a snicker behind her fingers, quickly gaining composure at the sudden annoyed knitting of Ivars brows.

"Of course, in the Greek fashion," Ivar hummed in approval, placing his hand under his chin in thought before replying.

"It's settled, report to me in the morning, we shall be paying the blacksmith a visit."

...

Artemis tightened her cloak around her body, hoping to shield herself from the morning chill. It seemed that the early morning and late night winds were always the harshest.

She has passed by Kattegat's blacksmith plenty of times since her duties had doubled, and she would often take a minute or two to peer inside the forge, reminiscing in the sights and sounds that tried to bring her back home. It didnt work, but she relished it, even if for a fleeting moment. But it was different arriving there with Prince Ivar, who dragged his body with gloved leather hands over the snow with determination in his eyes.

"Young Ivar, and company, what can I do for you?"

Artemis had seen this particular blacksmith before, sometimes with an older man. He was a handsome fellow, with long dark hair tied back messily, and with the typical blue eyes of the northerners. He was of strong build, broad shoulders that seemed endless and a height that made him tower over the both of them.

"Arvid," Greeted Ivar, heaving himself up onto a stool by the sharpening stone wheel, "Your father?"

"Out on business with Floki. The boats need stronger nails to support the wood," Arvid quickly answers the crippled prince, "What can I do for the prince of Kattegat?"

"My slave here is from foreign lands. She claims to be a blacksmith. I would like to put her to the test, if you can provide us with the materials needed," Ivar removes the leather from his hands, digging into the folds of his breeches to reveal a golden coin. He tosses it at Arvid who catches it in one hand with ease.

"From Ragnar's hoard?" The blacksmith asks, turning the coin over in between his fingers. It was a foreign coin for sure, but it was still gold.

"It is of no importance'" Ivar growls "Now get us what we need, she will be working on an axe," Arvid nodded, tucking the coin away in a purse before going to the back of the shop to retrieve the items.

Artemis takes in her surroundings quite vividly, as if it would be the last time she would see such a place. Not many candles were lit as the natural daylight illuminated the area just enough to work. The hearth was a familiar sight, and she absentmindedly stepped closer to it, her body shivering as it adjusted from cold to warm. It was all familiar yet so different. Everything was the same and yet nothing made it feel like home.

"Slave!" Avrid called out, "Come and help with the material."

"Her name is Artemis," Ivar shouted back with an grimace as he motioned for Artemis to remove his furs from his shoulders before taking his axe and placing it on the sharpening stone. "Go help the fool," He whispers to her. She bowed her head towards Ivar in respect before making her way towards the blacksmith, who bore the largest of smiles.

"My apologies, Artemis," Arvid had a charming smile, and she was happy to see he had all his teeth intact, "I know you," He says quietly, "You always peer in the shop. I was beginning to think it was to admire me," Arvid belted out a laugh when he saw the pink rise in her cheeks.

"I just wanted to observe your technique. It is different from what I've learned,"

"Right, well, if you say you are a smithy, then I assume you know what these items are," He had laid out on the long table familiar items to her that she had used alongside her father and brother.

"Yes." She says, running her hands over the different tools, before turning to look back at Ivar. He was sharpening his axes but his eyes were glued to the pair, the blue unmoving.

"This would take some time." Artemis says. It would take a few days, a week at most.

"Obviously," Ivar snorts, "We have time, it is not yet spring," Ivar removes the axe from the sharpening stone, testing the edge with his thumb. "We have time, but do not waste it."

"And what of my duties to you and Edda?" She wouldn't make much progress if she were expected to complete her daily duties on top of being in the forgery, it wouldn't work.

"Don't worry about the old hag, she has enough thralls to help her. But you will complete your duties to me come the morning and evening," Ivar said pointedly.

"You may begin."

Artemis flexed her fingers, removing her cloak to which Arvid took and placed away. The blacksmith then placed a small block of steel on the anvil closest to Ivar, handing her a hammer. The fires of the forge seemed to roar as Ivar's and Arvid's expectant eyes watched her for her next move.

It felt like an eternity since she had been able to touch any metals, and her hands missed the transformation of rough surfaces into smooth finishes. She placed a pair of gloves on that lay beside her with no hesitation, grabbing at the long metal tongs to grip the steel. The fire licked at the metal, turning it from its usual dark color, to a beautiful combination of bright red and orange.

Heat started to build up, and sweat began to form on Artemis' brow quickly, her curls already laying damp against her forehead. Pulling the bright yellow metal from the fire, she placed it on the anvil and took a deep breath. Gripping the hammer tightly in her hand, she raises her arm high, bringing it back down with a vicious pound.

And then she smiled.

Now it felt like home.

...

@didiintheblog @heavenly1927

#ivarxofc #ivarfanfiction #ivar imagine #ivar lothbrok #ivar #vikings ivar #vikings #ivar the boneless #alex hogh andersen

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supernaturalismyreligion666 · 5 years

Text

Drowning - Billy Hargrove x Reader

DOESN’T FOLLOW ANY STORYLINE

(Aka no spoilers)

WARNING: Major Character Death, Drowning, Swearing

I had never put much thought into how I'd die. I had hoped for a peaceful death--- or at least a quick one. I never thought it'd turn out like this.

~~~~~

"Y/N you can't possibly be thinking about wearing THAT!" Y/N smirked as her boyfriend stood in the doorway to her room, flabbergasted. She turned towards him, doing a little spin to show off her new swimsuit. It was a slim black monokini that hugged her body and extenuated her curves. Y/N had to admit, she looked pretty damn good. Billy thought so too. In fact, he thought she looked so good, he had the sudden urge to stay back from Tina's pool party and show her what he thought.

Billy's thoughts were interrupted when Y/N turned back around to grab her towel and sandals off the bed, "Billy, I just got this! What other chance will I get to wear it?"

He sighed and held open the door for her. She ducked under his arm, giggling as she felt his gaze follow her every move. Billy rolled his eyes and snatched his car keys off her nightstand before following her.

~~~~~

The party was absolutely packed. Almost everybody was there. Steve... Nancy... Tommy... Carol. Even Jonathan was there! Granted, he was standing awkwardly in a corner, pretending that he wasn't staring at Nancy. Billy parked his Camaro and turned hesitantly to Y/N, "You sure you want to go? I thought you didn't even like Tina."

Y/N scoffed, "I don't. I just want to go because I haven't been to many parties, and I think a pool party is a great place to join the fun! Also, I get to see you shirtless."

She had rushed the last part but Billy had heard it. He grinned and pulled off his white sleeveless shirt. He flexed his muscles a couple of times, watching Y/N's reaction. Her eyes widened as she ran her eyes up and down his body. "Enjoy the view?"

Y/N blushed and torn her eyes away from his body. 'God, I am so lucky that he is my boyfriend!' She unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car. Billy glanced back toward the house. He could already see people checking out his girlfriend. This is gonna be a LONG day.

~~~~~

He had been right. All-day Billy had been chasing off the jocks, geeks, freaks, and sluts who had gotten too close to Y/N. Nancy and Y/N immediately found each other and had been chatting and laughing while Steve and Billy came to a silent agreement not to fight. As much as Steve didn't like him, Billy was pretty good at intimidating the horny, drunk teens that surrounded them. Billy put up with Steve since Y/N had refused to speak to him for a week the last time he had started a fight with the guy.

Billy had just chased off another curious teen when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Y/N standing behind him. "Billy, I'm going to go get some water. I'm starting to get a little bit light-headed."

"Babe, are you alright? Do you want to go home?" Y/N shook her head, cutting off his worried rambling, "I just need something to drink. I'll be right back."

Billy made as to come with her but she put her hand on his chest, stopping him. She smiled up at him before walking towards the porch, where a crowd of people was dancing with their plastic red solo cups.

"Excuse me... sorry... I'm just going to sneak in between the two of you... Whoops! Sorry!" Y/N awkwardly made her way through the crowd. She ducked under arms, around legs, through groups. It was as if she was doing her own little dance through the tangle of limbs. However, her dance was interrupted by a jock who had had a little too much to drink. He bumped into her, causing her to stumble back into a cheerleader, who stepped away before she could hit her again and possibly ruin her perfect hair.

Maybe things would have turned out differently if the cheerleader hadn't moved out of Y/N's way, or if Y/N had simply let Billy go instead. Unfortunately, Y/N decided to go by herself, and the cheerleader had stepped out of Y/N's path.

Y/N's dizziness came back full-force and she took a couple more steps forward as the world spun around her. She closed her eyes to stop the spinning. Suddenly, she felt as if she was falling from a great height; just tumbling down and down and down and down until she hit the ground. But the ground was not real. It was not even a visible thing. It was noise. The faint sounds of water and music and screaming. Screaming about what? Y/N did not know. The only thing Y/N knew was the pain in her chest that was rapidly growing worse and worse. She felt an intense need to breathe. Her body contracted, forcing her to inhale a salty substance. Y/N snapped out of her daze as she realized what was happening. She was drowning. Her eyes flew open, lungs burning as she attempted to move. Y/N felt frozen. She tried to wave her arms and legs furiously but it was as if she had been turned into a statue. Her body forced her to breathe again, causing more water to splash into her lungs. The noises she heard felt far away now. She could distantly hear the sound of a splash. The feeling of being lifted up and out of this watery hell was all that she felt before the world went black.

~~~~~

Billy had been listening to Nancy and Steve's conversation when he heard a loud splash followed closely by screams. His head whipped toward the pool. The crowd of people had stopped dancing and the people in the pool had moved away from something in the water. He stood and began to walk to the group of frozen teens. He tried to see what happened, but the crowd was too thick. How in the hell did Y/N get through this mess? Wait... where is Y/N?

"Oh SHIT!" Billy began shoving his way through the crowd, trying to find his girlfriend. He spotted Jonathan (who had been standing near the pool throughout the entire party) and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, "Where is Y/N?! Have you seen her?!"

Jonathan looked shocked for a moment before glancing at the pool. Billy's eyes flashed with horror. Y/N got dizzy often, and she had told him of the few times her dizziness led to fainting. There was one unfortunate circumstance in which she hit her head and earned a pretty nasty concussion. He should have realized the danger she was in when she told him about being light-headed. He let go of Jonathan and pushed his way to the edge of the pool, where he dove in.

He spotted Y/N immediately. Her hair created a halo around her face that would've made Billy's jaw drop in awe under normal circumstances. He quickly swam over to her and pulled her out of the water. She was unconscious and, worse, not breathing. He laid her on her back and began running through the rescue steps that he had been taught as a lifeguard. He pinched her nose and breathed into her mouth a couple of times before starting CPR.

Steve and Nancy saw what was going on and ran over. Steve ran to call 911 while Nancy kneeled next to Billy. He was crying. He could tell that she had been underwater for too long. Nancy began crying as she also realized the severity of the situation. Billy felt the slightest movement beneath his fingers. Y/N had moved. He gasped and kept up the CPR until Y/N began to cough and choke. Billy quickly turned her onto her side as water flooded out of her mouth. The flow of water stopped as soon as it started and Y/N's eyes fluttered open. She looked up at Billy and coughed a couple more times before gently smiling at him. She was still in a lot of pain and had a feeling things weren't over just yet, but she wanted to spend what could very well be her last moments, wisely. Y/N's mouth opened and her voice came out in merely a whisper, "B-billy?"

Billy lifted her off the ground and cradled her head in his lap, "Yes, Y/N?"

"Neh-next time wh-wh-we go swimming, leh-let's not hah-hah-have another near-death experi-experience," Y/N's voice shook, causing her to stutter.

"Of course, babe." A tear fell from Billy's face, landing on Y/N's cheek, where it was washed away by one of her own tears.

"It's ge-getting cold. Did th-the suh-suh-sun disappear or som-something?"

Billy froze. It was hot as hell outside but Y/N's skin was growing colder and colder, "You're... It's probably just... shock."

Even he didn't believe his own words. Y/N gazed into his eyes, as if in a daze, "Were yo-your eyes always th-this blue?"

Billy couldn't reply. He could hear the ambulance sirens growing nearer, but he wasn't sure they'd make it in time. Y/N drew in a shaky breath and managed to speak without stumbling, "Billy you know I love you, right?"

Another tear fell from his eyes as Billy leaned over and planted a kiss on Y/N's forehead, "I know, babe. But you're going to be fine. The ambulance is almost here."

Y/N seemed to not hear him, "I love you more than... anything in the world... I'm so, so happy to have been your girlfriend... Please, don't... don't forget about me."

"You're going to be fine! The police are here! Please don't leave me Y/N! I need you! I can't... I can't imagine a world without you. I don't think I'm strong enough without you..." Billy's tears ran furiously down his face. The whites of his eyes had turned a slight shade of pink from his crying, which made his irises look jade-blue. Y/N reached a trembling hand to his cheek, "I'll never be far from you. I'll be--"

She was cut off by a sudden fit of coughing. Her calm expression was replaced with fear. Her hand slipped slightly but Billy grabbed it before it could leave his cheek. Her eyes were wide as she glanced over at Nancy, who was trying to keep the gawking crowd away. She softly called her best friend's name. Nancy heard and called Steve over to replace her as she ran back over to Y/N and Billy.

"Nancy, you will always be my best friend... Please just take care of Billy," Y/N laughed weakly, "Knowing him, this idiot will go do something stupid and get himself killed."

Nancy smiled as Billy feigned outrage. Droplets of water flew from Y/N's mouth as her laughter turned into coughing. She struggled to lift her head as she cried out through the coughing, "I don't wanna go... I don't wanna go, Billy, please!... I'm sorry."

Nancy turned away as Y/N took a final, shaky breath. Her head fell back onto Billy's lap, rolling to the side. Her eyes became glassy and unseeing as they fluttered shut. Her mouth fell open slightly, more water dripping from her pale lips. Her arm became heavy in Billy's grasp. He stared at her body in shock, "Babe? Babe, wake up."

He began shaking her shoulders, "Y/N, please wake up! Wake up! Y/N PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! PLEASE OPEN YOUR EYES!"

Billy realized she wasn't going to come back. He raised his head to the sky and screamed. The sky was too perfect for the oh-so-unperfect event that had taken place. It was bright blue without a cloud in sight. Billy saw this and it made him furious. He felt taunted by the appearance of the perfect day. After all, Billy's life before Y/N was shit. She helped him during tough times. She let him stay with her whenever his father was a jackass. He would turn up on her doorstep with cuts and bruises everywhere, but she wouldn't ask questions. They would cuddle on her couch and watch movies on weekends. He would give her all the attention she wanted. He wouldn't hesitate to beat up people who looked just a little too long in her direction. He would make sure everyone knew she was his, as much as it annoyed her.

She was his entire world. Nothing mattered more than her, and now she was gone.

~~~~~~~~~~

Part 2?

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