#i wanted to think Tower of Thorns was just AU but now with the whole growing jasmine parallel and Linkon City being years in the past....? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fishfingersandjellybabies · 3 years

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The Crown Found in Rose Thorns - fic

Characters: Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, Talia al Ghul, Jon Kent, Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne Pairing: jondami Summary: “My name is Jonathan Kent, of the Kingdom of Krypton. And I’m here to marry Prince Damian of the Kingdom of Gotham.” A/N: I told @berryfartsart some medieval jondami headcanons inspired by the DKOS announcement and they cyberbullied me into writing the AU for it. (Kidding, of course.) Anyway get ready for some old fashion slow burns and smoopy goopy love~ (but like...eventually, this won’t be fast updated haha)

Damian huffed, crossing his arms, wincing as the Cassandra pulled the brush through his curls once more.

“This is a farce.” He droned. “A complete jester act.”

Talia chuckled, but didn’t look back at her son. Continued brushing her own hair.

“It’s going to be the same as the past three days.” Damian warned. “They’re all simpletons not worthy of my time, or anyone else’s.”

“Then I would at least like to remind you, my dear precious boy.” Talia hummed, effortlessly twirling her hair into a braid. “That I am not asking you to marry today. I am asking you to explore what traits might appeal to you, what kingdoms you trust, or don’t.”

Damian winced as his sister tugged gently at his hair, and scoffed. “It shouldn’t be up to me. My marriage is unimportant.” He mumbled. “You should be focusing on the heir’s marriage.”

Talia sighed, dropping her brush onto her vanity and standing. She stared into the mirror for a moment before leaning over and plucking Damian’s crown off its stand. She turned and slowly walked across the room, staring warmly down at Damian as she approached him.

“Richard does not have a threat hanging over his life.” She murmured, pushing his bangs back before carefully placing the crown on his head. “Richard does not need all the protection he can get.”

“And our brother already has a suitor.” Cassandra chimed in with a giggle. “That warrior princess from the Tamaranean lands.”

“Indeed.” Talia agreed. “So even if he needed any protection from something he could not handle himself, it appears he already has it.”

“Jason then.” Damian tried. He twisted to look at Cassandra. “Or you.” He sat up. “You’re already betrothed to that bard woman!” He turned back to his mother. “Why can’t we make a big deal about her nuptials instead!”

“Because her grandfather is not threatening to steal her away and hold her prisoner and eventually murder her for power.” Talia laughed, holding Damian’s face with a hand on his cheek. “And I am not above a political marriage if that means you have two kingdoms protecting you instead of just ours.”

Damian pursed his lips, ignored the heat rising through his face. “…And if I pick no one to attempt a courtship?”

“Like I said, my beloved.” Talia leaned down and kissed his forehead. “I am not above political marriage to protect you.” She smiled, eyes darting between his. “Even if you forever hate me for it.”

She stood back up, adjusted his crown, then Cassandra’s, then her own, and turned to glide out of the room.

The throne room was abuzz with citizens of the town, and even visitors who had come to try their luck and win Prince Damian’s hand.

Damian sighed as he followed Richard onto their altar. Scanning the room, he could already see no one of merit, and no one of interest. So it was going to be another boring, pointless, wasted day.

“This should be for you.” Damian mumbled again.

Richard snorted, plopping into his seat. “Sorry I found love on my own, little one. Without Mother and Father’s help.” He smirked. “Besides, you should be nice to me. I don’t have to sit here with you all day. I’m just here out of the goodness of my heart, and fondness for my poor, sorrowful, lonely little brother.”

“Piss off. You’re here to amuse yourself at my expense.” Damian rolled his eyes, sitting more politely in the throne next to him. “And so you can go cackle at my misfortune with our brothers later.”

“Nonsense. We cackle at your misfortune on a normal day too.” Richard promised with a wink. “How’s that growth spurt treating you anyway?”

Damian frowned, tugging at his sleeves. “…I have requested a new fitting with Alfred after today’s…festivities.”

Dick smiled again, running his fingers through Damian’s neatly combed curls. “Your clothes will fit for longer than a week one day soon, kiddo.” He let his fingers fall from Damian’s hair to his cheek. “…I’m not just here to keep you company, you know.”

“…Oh?”

“Mhm.” Richard nodded. Damian watched as his blue eyes darted around the room. “I’m here to vet your potential suitors. Make sure they are good enough for you, strong enough to protect you-”

“I can protect myself, thank you.”

“-and this is the fourth day of the festivities. No doubt your grandfather has heard of them by now. Someone has to make sure no undesirables have snuck in, or attempt to make a move.”

“Do you truly think he would be so brash?” Damian questioned. “Besides, this whole thing was Mother’s doing. So, I thought that was why Father keeps attending, to keep watch.”

“He is. But like I said, this is the fourth day. Enough time to get word and move to strike. And forgive me if I’d rather be safe than sorry.” Richard smiled apologetically. “So Father and I are in here, Jason and Cassandra are running the perimeter and Timothy is monitoring the guard towers.”

Damian sighed, staring out into the crowd once more. A few of the guests were glancing their way now. Giggling and falling back into their whispers. Some of the less modest ones outright stared, giving Damian as flirty a smile as they could.

“…Well, as much as I appreciate your concern, I’m afraid it will all be for naught.” Damian drooped in his chair and crossed his arms. “If today is anything like the past three, it will be the most boring day of your life, and nothing will come to fruition.”

“Never say never, little one.” Richard offered dreamily. “Love strikes when you least expect it.”

“Love.” Damian scoffed, glancing over as Bruce and Talia entered the room, hands clasped between them. “Who said any of this was for love?”

“Well.” Richard hummed. “It is because we love you.” He offered. “And we’re hoping not to make this an arranged affair. That we can find you happiness in a partner as well as protection. That’s why we want you to choose.”

“And if I never choose anyone?”

Richard blinked, then offered a smile. But it was sad, almost pitying.

Damian crossed his arms tighter, glancing towards their parents as the King and Queen sat next to them.

“As I keep telling you all, I can protect myself.” Damian mumbled. “And I’m content being alone.”

Richard kept his sad smile. Damian refused to look at him anymore.

Damian wanted to rip his hair out.

As he had predicted many times that day, it was just more of the same.

A blacksmith offering the best weapons, and the safest house on the continent.

A nomad promising a life of adventure and delicious foods.

A group of sisters offering as many heirs as they could carry, and their father as the sole brave knight to protect them all.

A witch and a wizard together, offering magic as protection and endless fertility to continue the kingdom’s bloodline.

A princess offering the best clothes and parties.

A duke who…wasn’t even sure why he was there. He was sent by his father, and didn’t even know Damian’s name.

A young woman who merely offered her humor and loyalty. She could make him laugh, and made it clear that was all she had.

Damian almost agreed to meet with her, if only because he appreciated her honesty.

The sun was dipping in the sky outside the western window, and Damian could feel his stomach starting to growl. He glanced to his brother, who had sat all but stock-still all day, doing exactly as he’d said he would. Watching the room, vetting the visitors. Making sure these potential suitors were good enough for his littlest brother.

“…How many more do you think Mother will have stroll through here?” Damian whispered. “I don’t think I can take much more of this mind-numbing torture.”

Richard chuckled. “I’ll give her four more, then push for a recess. Alright?”

“Thank you.” Damian breathed in relief, glancing out towards the room. The crowd had thinned slightly, with some parties departing when their candidate was politely rejected. Others were just the local townsfolk, remaining purely to stick their noses in royal business.

Talia called for the next suitor to step up, and on the far side of the room, Damian saw three people stepping forward. But before they could make it even a yard, one of the large doors across from the thrones groaned open.

“Am I late?” A male voice called. A wave of chuckles swam around the room, and even Damian found himself smirking.

“Depends on what you’re looking for, son.” Bruce called. Despite the normal nature of the interruption, Damian could already see both his father and brother had put their hands on the hilt of their swords.

“Apologies, Your Highnesses,” Alfred appeared behind the man. He sent a glare over his shoulder as he passed by him. “I had asked him to wait a few moments, but he clearly refused. I do hope we aren’t interrupting.”

“No.” Bruce waved to three people apologetically, who nodded and disappeared back into the crowd. “If he is here for Damian, then we can hear him out.”

“I am!” The stranger called. When he moved, the sound of armor clanked around him. “Um, yes. I mean. I am. I am here for Prince Damian.”

“…Though tardiness is not a good first impression, I must say.” Talia scolded quietly. Bruce gave her a gentle smile and patted her hand. “Bring him forward.”

“Great!” The man – young, by the sound of it, probably closer to a boy – called, leaping past Alfred. “I mean, uh, thank you, Your Highness. For the opportunity.”

Damian watched the man as he walked the long carpet forward, and he felt his eyes narrowing in curiosity. He had dark hair that seemed permanently windblown framing his face, and an awkward smile that almost seemed like it was about to burst from his face.

What really struck Damian’s interest, however, were his eyes. They were a sharp violet, a color Damian didn’t recall ever seeing on a human being before. They were fascinating. Beautiful, even, if he really had to describe them.

As he approached, Damian realized the man – boy, he truly was a boy – was around his age. Seventeen like himself at most, but more likely a year or two younger. What surprised him about that, though, was the armour he wore. While a sparkling silver and recently cleaned, Damian could see nicks and dents in it, even a few shadows that could easily be blood stains, if he got close enough to look.

Barely seventeen and already a battle-worn war veteran?

Attached to the shoulder plate of his armour was a brooch that fastened his bright red cloak together around his neck. It was gold, shaped like a freshly cut diamond, with a large S painted blue on the inside.

Damian didn’t recognize the coat of arms. And Damian knew all the coat of arms of every kingdom and town on the continent.

That was suspicious.

He glanced to his side again. Richard had not taken his hand off his sword.

The boy had reached their feet now, that large smile still adorning his face.

“Hello.” He said plainly. “My name is Jonathan Kent, of the Kingdom of Krypton.”

Talia huffed, raising her head. “And what are you here for, Sir Jonathan?”

Jonathan’s smile, impossibly, seemed to widen.

“Well, Your Highness.” He started, turning his head to stare directly at Damian. Damian found himself flinching under the intense gaze. “I’m here to marry Prince Damian of the Kingdom of Gotham.”

A wave of gasps rolled through the room, followed by an almost deathly silence. While they were all here to propose a courtship and future with the prince, no one had dared to be so forward! Just as no one should have. It was presumptuous and out of place. Everyone knew that. Everyone.

Bruce and Talia glanced at each other, and Richard had the gall to stifle a laugh in his fist.

But Damian.

He was tired, he was annoyed. He was fed up with this charade that had not only taken up almost a week of his life, but one he did not want to partake in, in the first place. He was fed up with people looking at him. Fed up with being treated like a thing, a prize.

So as his parents glanced at each other, and the court calmed themselves over the offense, Damian stood, moving to the front of the altar.

“I beg your pardon?” He spat, brushing off Richard’s fingers as he tried to grab him. “How dare you think I’d want to marry a nameless peasant such as yourself.”

“Well, past experience says you wouldn’t be that against it.” Jonathan shrugged, armor clanking. “But that also is a moot point, because I’m not a peasant. I’m Jonathan, from the Kingdom of Krypto-”

“I’ve never heard of it.” Damian declared. “And I know every kingdom here to the coasts. Which makes you a liar, dear knight.”

The moniker was all but sneered, but Jonathan just let his smile grow a little wider, a little…fonder.

Suddenly Jonathan glanced over Damian’s shoulder. “My father’s name is Clark Kent, but he also sometimes goes by Kal. You’ve fought at his side before, King Bruce.”

Damian whirled around to find his father nodding. “Indeed I have.” Bruce frowned. “I don’t recall him being from any kingdom though. He called himself a traveler.”

“A…recent development.” Jonathan admitted. “One we are still getting used to. But Krypton is his – our – home, and once the truth was discovered, they welcomed us back with open arms.”

“Your father is king?” Jonathan nodded. “Quite the…development, as you said.” Bruce murmured. He glanced at Dick, who shook his head. “He never mentioned a son.”

“He has two. Myself and my older brother, Connor.” A nervous chuckle. “He was…very protective of us as we traveled. Hid us in forests and with witches when he and mother had dealings in towns and villages. Apparently whatever ousted him from Krypton all those years ago, he was afraid we would be its next target.”

“None of this is relevant to today.” Damian cut in, whirling back around to face the suitor. “How long have you been under the title of prince?”

“A few years.”

“And in a few years you did not learn any manners?” Damian scolded, crossing his arms. “You do not enter another’s kingdom and demand someone’s hand in marriage.”

“I did not demand.” Jonathan countered. “I promised.”

Damian felt heat rise to his cheeks. “And who said I would choose you? How do you know I have not chosen anyone to court yet?”

“Past experience.”

“Past experience with who?”

“You.”

The room’s silence grew tense. Damian’s hands balled into fists.

“I have never met you for a second in my life.”

Jonathan lowered his voice. “Are you so sure?”

Damian narrowed his eyes, and opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by his mother.

“Damian.” She hummed. “…What do you think of this…gentleman? Are you interested in him?”

“I think he’s a complete buffoon.” Damian answered instantly. Jonathan chuckled to himself. “An arrogant, deceptive moron.”

Jonathan merely blinked. “Your Highness, that doesn’t answer her question.”

Damian felt a blush blossoming on his face. “You-”

“And if we’re going to marry within the year, perhaps you should answer quickly, so we can begin our courtship.”

“Again, who said I would ever want to marry you?” Damian demanded.

Jonathan shrugged again. “Well, so far, you haven’t said you don’t.”

Damian felt his jaw go rigid. This idiot. This disrespectful, uneducated boy who claims he fell into power. So sure of himself, so narcissistic. And he already thought Damian belonged to him? That Damian was already his?

That smile was still plastered to his face. It was mischievous, and held a secret.

Held a challenge.

Say no, it said. I dare you. Let me embarrass you in front of your court and walk away with your tail between your legs. I dare you.

Damian never could turn down a dare. A test. And if it was a challenge Jonathan Kent of Krypton wanted, it was a challenge he would get.

He wanted to court Damian? Fine. Let him court Damian. Damian would eat him alive. Emotionally tear him limb from limb. Send him crawling back to Krypton wondering why he ever even bothered with the youngest Prince of Gotham.

After a moment, Damian returned the smile, slowly walked down the altar steps, and moved towards the knight. Stopped only inches away, and stared up into those mystical purple eyes.

There was something in those eyes, Damian noted. Something just out of reach. Purposefully hidden. Hidden from everyone? Or just Damian?

This close, and Damian was reminded once more of the marks on his armor. The red shadows he’d noticed before, he could now confirm were blood. Old and flaking, and much more of it than he first realized. Not his own, Damian decided, based on their locations. Blood from others.

Mischievous…and dangerous.

(And beautiful!, his brain supplied. But he ignored that part. Stayed focused on the challenge at hand.)

He glanced down between them when he noticed Jonathan’s fingers twitch, like he wanted to reach out. Want to touch him. Damian let his gaze rise. Smirked, and reveled in the scene of Jonathan biting his lip, just slightly.

“Yes, Mother.” He whispered. But his voice was heard through the whole room. “I think I am interested.”

Jonathan kept his gaze. Whispered back, “I knew you would be.”

“Your arrogance will be the death of you, Traveler.” Damian hummed, turning away. He began back up the steps, was almost to the top, when he heard the quietest words ever spoken.

“No, I do believe only you will be, love.”

Damian spun back around at the tender sound, his face heating up. Jonathan was still staring, but now his gaze was softer, more adoring. Like he’d known Damian for years.

Like he really was here just to profess his eternal love and marry him on the spot.

…Curious.

Suddenly, a hand was on Damian’s shoulder, and he turned to find Richard above him, watching Jonathan as he tugged Damian back to his seat.

Talia began speaking to Jonathan, Bruce adding a word or two, as Richard and Damian sat back down. That look was gone from Jonathan’s face now, back to business as the queen set a time for him to return the next day to spend time with her son.

“…First impression?” Damian murmured to his brother. He felt himself twitching every so often, when Jonathan would glance his way.

“Honestly? Suspicious.” Richard returned. “I’ll need to look deeper into this history he’s claiming. See if Father and I can get a hold of Clark. Find out about the status of Krypton.” Richard paused, then looked over at him. “Are you honestly interested in him?”

Damian shrugged. “If not for love, then for my personal entertainment.”

“That’s cruel, if he’s genuine.”

“Do you think he is?”

Richard looked back. The knight was bowing to their parents now. Stood, and turned to the two of them to bow again. When he stood upright once more, he gave Damian a wink, then turned to walk back down the aisle and out of the room.

Richard clicked his tongue as Jonathan disappeared out the large door. Glanced at Damian with a sly smile. “…Ask me again after your first date tomorrow.”

Damian groaned and slumped in his throne.

#jondami #jon kent #Damian Wayne #dick grayson #Talia al Ghul #cassandra cain #bruce wayne #Princes au

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mollymauk-teafleak · 3 years

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Tie Your Heart to Mine

Widomauk vampire AU! Huge thanks to @minky-for-short for coming up with this AU idea and for being an amazing beta reader alongside the ever wonderful @spiky-lesbian

Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3!

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Mollymauk only ever remembers being a vampire. He woke up like this, with a still heart and a thirst he had to fight to control. He struggled to understand humans for the decades he's been alive.

Until vampire hunter Caleb Widogast arrived to kill him.

A year or so on from that day, he marks Caleb as his for the rest of their lives.

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When you see them, you just know. You just know.

When Yasha had given him that answer, Mollymauk seemed to remember he’d made a retching noise and aimed a kick at her head. He’d felt that had summarised his feelings succinctly, even if it had earned him a pillow to the face.

He’d just been struggling to understand it. Ever since Yasha had bonded not only with the usual one partner but a second, and a human at that, Molly had been trying to wrap his head around it. How someone’s life could change so completely and so quickly. One day his best friend had been the silent, towering, stoic vampire he’d whiled away decades annoying and travelling with. But then she’d met Jester and Beau and suddenly she was silent, towering, stoic and in love.

With a lot less time for her best friend.

Not that Mollymauk was bitter. He’d wanted happiness for Yasha since he’d met her, he knew how hard her life had been since she was turned, since she lost her first wife. The way she’d talk about Jester and Beau, the light that would dawn in her eyes, the kind that used to be a memory. Molly would never, ever deny her that. He just didn’t understand and that answer hadn’t helped.

But now he was looking down at Caleb, holding his angular face in his hands as he paused in between kisses, kneeling over him as they sprawled out on the bed. A moment’s inhaling, the slightest pause before their lives changed forever, where he looked down at the man he loved.

And he just knew. He just knew.

“What are you thinking, Liebling?” Caleb’s voice was rough and low, breathless from the countless kisses that had carried them up the stairs and into the bedroom. His smile was bright, crooked, a little goofy in the way it only got when he had let his walls down completely.

Molly gave a soft chuckle, running his thumbs over Caleb’s cheekbones, “Just how I can’t wait to be yours…”

“Mine,” Caleb murmured, a note of awe gentling his voice as he reached up to return the touch, ghosting his fingertips along Molly’s neck and following the line of that old scar that bisected his body, “And...you’re certain you want this? You want me?”

Mollymauk sighed softly, his smile turning fond. Ever since he’d explained the process to Caleb, the way that vampires marked those they’d chosen to bond with, the way they tied their souls to another’s, he’d seemed completely mystified. Like he wanted to believe it was happening but, even now that they were moments away from it, part of him still doubted.

And Molly knew exactly who had planted those parts of him, who had cultivated them until they’d grown into a tangled thicket of thorns that Caleb still cut himself on today. He’d known Caleb and his scars for years and it still woke a deep, hungry anger in him. One day he would need to do something about that anger. He would need to do something about Trent Ikithon.

But not tonight. Tonight he would show Caleb exactly what he was worth.

“I want you,” he nodded, kissing the bridge of his lover’s nose, his cheeks, his forehead, “Every part of you, Caleb. Since the moment you walked through my door.”

Molly felt his human squirm, saw the delicious rise of colour up his neck, smelled his sweet, rising pulse.

“Since the very first moment, huh?” his blue eyes shone like pools of water in high summer, though his smile was somehow brighter.

“Well, there was something just so alluring about the vampire hunter turning up all soaked through with rain, giving me the whole oh kind sir my carriage broke down just outside your door routine like I didn’t know he had a stake strapped to your thigh under those ever so tight trousers…”

“Küss meinen Arsch,” Caleb slapped his leg lightly, “It worked, didn’t it? I saw where your eyes were.”

Molly laughed, flicking his tail in retaliation, “I was simply watching for more concealed weaponry, I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

Caleb rolled them over, a growling edge to his laughter, until the two of them were caught somewhere between wrestling and kissing, hands wandering and gripping tight enough to leave marks.

“So…” Caleb eventually asked, chest heaving, hair now loose from it’s tie and spread out across the pillows like burnished copper, “Do you want to, um…how do we…”

Molly, now sprawled on his side next to his lover, grinned and took his hand, “You know how to do this part, darling. Let me take care of the rest.”

So Caleb nodded, the last of his anxiety falling away like leaves from a tree in the last days of autumn. He dragged Molly across those last few inches between them, kissing him hard, letting his lover stretch out over him like a contented cat. Mollymauk remembered when his dear human had been a thin twig of a thing, when he’d been forced to keep his strength on a tighter rein than he would even have to normally, for fear of hurting him when they lay together.

Now he was fuller, wire cords of muscle hiding in those still slender limbs, stronger and surer. Of course Mollymauk could still break his bones with a firm grasp but that was humans for you. About a year of wandering, free from Ikithon’s brutal, abusive training and returning often to Molly’s determined, loving caretaking, Caleb had flourished. He wasn’t the frightened young man with the shaking hands who’d been sent to Mollymauk’s door to kill him. And as much as Molly had loved that man, he loved this one just as much.

“Liebling…” the other language fell from Caleb’s lips in between heavy, open kisses, making Molly think of far flung fields full of golden wheat, snow capped mountains, all the things you couldn’t find on the Menagerie Coast. It made him think of the other world his lover came from and just how lucky he was that he’d wandered into his home.

“My darling,” Molly murmured in return, bringing their still clasped hands down between his own legs, encouraging Caleb to feel how aroused he already was, “Take me?”

The human gave a breathy gasp and nodded, drawing himself up onto the bolsters so Molly could climb fully into his lap. He slipped his hand back between Molly’s thighs, gently teasing him open, as the tiefling’s tail wrapped around his bare thigh and anchored them together.

“My mate,” Molly whined, biting his lower lip, fangs snagging the low light, “Mine, oh gods…”

Caleb grinned up at him, working his fingers deeper, breaching the soft heat between his legs, “Then make me yours. Show the whole world who I belong to.”

Molly groaned brokenly, digging his nails into Caleb’s shoulders as he dragged him into a bruising kiss and sank down onto his cock. He felt the human start under him before leaning into it, moving into that rhythm they knew, that they’d built over nearly a year together. Familiar, comforting, the same way it always was after Caleb would come home from his long hunting trips. Like coming home. Like exhaling.

And always, as ever, that line waiting just up ahead. The line Molly had never crossed, as much as his heart had ached for it from the first moment he’d had Caleb in his bed. Something so much deeper than his usual hunger, the kind of desire he’d never experienced with any other partner, with anyone he’d ever fed from or slept with. That pull that said he’s yours, the one you didn’t know you were waiting for.

They’d held back from it for nearly a year, both of them very aware that the brainwashed, brutalised, rain thin vampire hunter who’d turned up in the rain that night was in no fit state to make that kind of bond. So it had been long months of separation while Caleb sorted his head out, Molly putting him on the trail of those many vampires that did deserve the justice he’d been trained to give. He’d receive letters, tales of nights under the stars and the deep, dark thoughts that were slowly being unpicked and straightened out, and Molly’s heart would break for him. Breaks that would knit back together the moment Caleb returned.

Molly had been happy to wait, it wasn’t as if he wasn’t used to that. Immortal beings had to learn how to be patient or things got messy.

But now here was Caleb, his mind his own and his heart about to be Molly’s for the rest of his life. And gods, all Molly could think was how long he’d wanted this. How much he was going to enjoy this.

“Ready?” he gasped out, voice high and wild, instinct and lust burning through him so fiercely it took every inch of his carefully constructed self control to ask that question.

Caleb lifted his chin, pupils blown wide, hair falling in his eyes. He just looked so bloody alive, all flushed skin and damp brow and throat pulsing. So human, so fragile but nothing other than complete and total trust on his face.

“Ready,” Caleb hands slid down his shoulders to rest against Molly’s chest, over his heart that hadn’t beat in nearly a hundred years, as long as he could remember owning it but he could have sworn he felt it flutter at that touch. He felt it respond to that call.

Time stopped when Molly’s fangs broke Caleb’s skin. A single, perfect moment of stillness where the universe clicked neatly into place. Then everything flooded through him, the dark, savoury taste of Caleb’s blood crashing over his tongue, the white hot release of his orgasm and something more, something much more. If his mouth wasn’t busy he would have screamed, though Caleb did enough for both of them. Molly had always wondered what the feeding felt like for his human lover, if he really gained as much from it as Molly did.

But in this moment, he didn’t have to wonder. Caleb’s pleasure was his own and his was Caleb’s, everything they felt theirs to share. They weren’t separate for that brief beautiful heartbeat, they were one being, tied together right down to their atoms. Mollymauk felt Caleb’s red hair sticking to his forehead, the tremble in his hands, the fear and anxiety and doubt that had become permanent fixtures in his brain shaken in their foundations and starting to shift. Caleb felt the strength and power in Mollymauk’s muscles, the looseness of s form that could change at will, the never ending, always gnawing hunger sated only in moments like this.

And they both felt the love the other held for them. Even when they’d doubted and felt unworthy, even when it had seemed impossible, there it was.

Coming back to themselves was like the snapping of a whip, both vampire and human left reeling as they crashed back into their own bodies. Molly shook all over, the usual adrenaline rush he got from feeding cranked up so high he felt like he might break at the seams, every noise a racket in his ears, even the low candlelight too bright. He took deep breaths to ground himself, bracing himself to throw back the usual violent urge to take and take again and take too much.

But it didn’t come. Because how could he ever hurt his mate?

He swayed, their bodies coming apart as he tumbled onto his back, gasping out, “Gods, Caleb, that was…”

He trailed off, everything calming down enough that he could pick out the sound of muffled, snatching sobs. He saw that Caleb had thrown his arms over his face, his whole body hitching as he cried.

“Oh…” Molly immediately reached for him and Caleb latched on, gripping him tight enough to hurt anyone but a vampire, “Oh, my darling, come here. It’s alright, I’ve got you…”

“Sorry,” Caleb choked out, “Sorry, I’m okay, I promise. It was just…a lot.”

“I know,” Molly soothed him, stroking his hair and squeezing his shoulders, making sure he could feel that he was there and his thoughts couldn’t take him far from his embrace, “I know, darling.”

And he did. He felt how overwhelmed Caleb was, how his mind was slowly growing to accommodate these new feelings, the ache in his muscles and rawness in his throat. It was as if the emotions and sensations were coming from somewhere behind his own heart. That was going to take some getting used to.

Eventually Caleb’s sobs were just sniffles and his smile was shining through like sun peeking through clouds. Though he still clung to Molly tightly.

“My mate,” he sighed happily, licking over the twin puncture marks and blushing bruise he’d left on Caleb’s neck, chasing away any lingering burn. Unlike the others from their year together, this one was permanent and it was perfect.

“Mine,” Caleb replied, his voice heavy as the inevitable exhaustion overwhelmed him. He’d always fall asleep after Molly fed so this must have floored him.

Molly smiled, kissing his forehead as he let him drift away, “Sleep, darling. Everything’s going to be okay.”

And as he held his mate in his arms and listened to the quiet of the night around them, Mollymauk meant it. Despite everything they’d been through, it would be okay.

He just knew.

#widomauk #critical role #caleb widogast #mollymauk tealeaf #vampire molly #trans molly #vampire au #smut #please leave a comment!

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bibliocratic · 3 years

Note

I come bearing a sort-of fic idea! (Only if you feel inspired to use it, of course 😊) Back in ep 101, Martin figures out that/where the Stranger has taken Jon, and goes all BAMF to save him, using either Web powers or his developing Backup Archivist powers to do it. (Dealer's choice) Some of that sweet sweet emotional h/c...

Dearest anon, this fic has been so long in the writing, and it’s only distantly related to what you asked for. Hope you like it regardless. :)

Set in an S3 AU, implied JonMartin. Tim-centric.

Content warnings for strongly implied graphic violence, canonical S3 captivity and imprisonment, hospitals and hospitalisation. Rated T for language and implied violence

Jon’s skittering, sprawl-legged slam against the archive door startles Tim from the shadowed walkways of his reveries.

The tilted legs of his chair thump back in a slap to the floor. Almost physically wrenched into the now, there’s a snapback to Tim’s spine, a vice-clench knot tightening in his jaw. His mood cranking up from frosty to furious.

“The fuck?” he barks at the intrusion. His snarling primed with teeth, his temper clawed to rend. He’s up and standing, whereas Jon’s practically handing off the door handle, the impact of his arrival almost knocking his legs out like ten pins from under him. An ugly, airless heaving of his chest. His eyes bloodshot, wild. In the weeks since Tim saw him, his hair has grown out unwashed and limp. His skin shimmering wrong in the light in a way that’s oddly greasy.

He’s a shattering mannequin of a man tending to ruin but Tim’s long pared down his own capacity for compassion. He loads up his questions in their chambers, and he knows where to place emphasis, where to press at the bruising, the soft-tissue targets; where the hell have you been, oh wait, don’t fucking bother, why would you even tell us anything anyway huh, because you don’t even trust us. So why the bloody hell should we care where you go galivanting off to for weeks without a word, fine by us, just fucking peachy.

“Martin,” Jon rasps out finally. His words floundering beached in his mouth, and Tim has never seen this particular mania, this bruise-sick shade of pathetic desperation. “T-tim, please, help, please, god, i-i-it’s Martin.”

Jon’s spasming, quivering hands are staining brown with blood.

“He wouldn’t have just left! Not – not like – like this!”

“You mean without saying anything. Not sharing with the class. I dunno, Martin, sounds exactly like something he’d have done. Classic Jon.”

“I’m telling you, something’s wrong!”

“Ha – everything’s wrong. Narrow it down.”

“You know what I mean! Something’s… He should be here, is all I’m saying, and Elias, well he’s useless but he – he knows something, I’m sure of it. We have to do something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know! Find him!”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be found. Huh, what about that? Maybe he’s finally managed to fuck off and leave here, legged it and left the rest of us to rot.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“We should – ”

“No. No, listen, Martin. This isn’t a team sport. Jon made his choice to go this alone. If he’s gone off somewhere, then that’s on him. There’s no ‘we’.”

“There used to be.”

Martin didn’t come in for work, and Tim assumed he’d left. Just like Jon.

He’d stewed in that betrayal, pacing lupine and furious, bricking up the walls of himself with his self-righteous anger. Because he’d been right, hadn’t he, he’d been vindicated in his bitterness, because of course Martin had left scurrying after Jon, of course there was never any loyalty to Tim despite his pretensions to their friendship. Of course, Martin hadn’t fucking stayed, and Tim was glad he was gone, free of his nagging and needling and whining.

Tim was acquitted in all his furies, every one of his poisonous doubts. The rose-thorns of his betrayals tore deeper, and he let the wounds fester.

Elias arrives in the aftermath.

Jon collapsed not too long ago. Shock and dehydration and whatever the hell happened to him threaded through him like blood poisoning. He’d babbled to the ambulance crews, his tongue a senseless oracle of clowns and skin and blood. They’d given him a shock blanket, the foil treating the light around them erratically, but he kept shaking it off and trying to stand, dressed in grubby boxers, an overlong coat, the fabric worn to grey at the pockets and stretched to billowing at the chest, clearly belonging to Martin.

It was hard for Tim to hate him like that, even as he’d barked at Jon to stay down. Jon’s face a theatre mask of ghoulish blood, begging the paramedics to help Martin, manic and spiralling.

The old bastard had had a heart after all.

There’s a bank of chairs outside the part of the ward where they’re keeping Jon. He’s pin-cushioned with IV’s, a set of machines monitoring his vitals. He wakes fitfully, and every waking is a pitiful confusion before he sinks back under.

Martin’s still in surgery.

Elias, deigning to leave his ivory tower, his face formed in an impeccable replica of concern. He wants to speak to Jon. To have, as he put it, ‘a private word’. He talks a precisely ordered stream of bullshit in his infuriatingly reasonable tone, about all this being such a terrible tragedy, such a blow to their little family, if only they’d known. Poor Martin, of course, what a horrible ordeal, we’ll naturally help him with recovery, cover any time off, no expense considered.

Tim watches his mouth move, and knows in his gut that Elias could have stopped all this.

That he chose not to.

Elias doesn’t get within a hundred feet of Jon. Tim makes sure of it.

Jon does not speak for days. Delirious and distraught. Martin’s condition worsens, then stabilises, then lingers at critical. There are several more operations, and Tim does not know what they are doing, only that they are reforming a heap of blood and bone back into a person.

Tim wants to know what happened. Where Jon went, where Martin found him, who he needs to hate.

Tim learns to temper his frustration, the desire for knowing that curls at the bottom of his stomach. It is not a natural wanting, and it’s a spiteful, gleeful action, to deny that rot within him.

“Tim?”

“Stay still, boss,” Tim says. “You’ll pull everything out.”

Jon doesn’t say anything more for a long while. Tim shifts uneasy on the chair provided, thinking, hoping that Jon might have sunk back into sleep, when:

“Martin? Is he…?”

Jon turns his head to look at him. His eyes wide, beseeching, wet with fear. Wanting Tim to make this all ok.

Jon’s eyes in this light are a lot like Danny’s. Tim sucks back a hard breath, and doesn’t meet his gaze, and he knows that only distresses Jon further, who will take the avoidance as a death knell, as a punishment he is expecting to have earned.

“He’s alive, boss,” Tim says eventually. The words hard won. “He’s… he’ll be alright.”

That could be a lie. He doesn’t know much these days.

“Th-there was a room,” Jon stammers one day. He’s sat up, pillows stuffed behind his back. Tim’s bought him an apple juice carton like you buy for children, and he hasn’t touched it, even to push the plastic straw through the top.

His fingers at his lap twist, twist, twist.

“It must have been a … a factory floor, or something. One of those old textile mills or something, up near Manchester. It used to have those big machines for spinning cotton, there were big, discoloured spaces on the boards where they would have sat. There were columns, load-bearing, every fifty feet or so, and t-the chair that they – they had me tied to was anchored against one of those s-so it didn’t – so I couldn’t move it, or knock it over. I-I don’t know how long I was… I.” Jon stops, out of breath. “I don’t even know the date.”

Tim tells him. Jon blinks, and murmurs ‘oh’ like it’s not what he was expecting. His hands are shaking. Tim should reach out, shouldn’t he, it should not be this difficult to provide comfort.

His hands have forgotten how easily reassurance used to come to him.

“Th-they didn’t, they didn’t hurt me. Not, well, not exactly, I-I-I mean, it wasn’t – they wanted me unharmed.” Jon’s voice has crept small and crouched, words tuck under his tongue. “They were waiting. For the right time. They were going to t-take my, um, my skin. For their – for the ritual.”

“Christ.” Tim hisses out, because that is fucked, this whole thing is fucked. How the hell is this the way their lives have turned.

Only Jon’s fingers, his restless hands make noise for the next minute.

“I don’t know how Martin found me,” Jon says.

Tim has a creeping suspicion. It’s the same thing that helps Tim spits out exactly the right seeds to allow hurt to take root. What told Martin that there was something wrong. He could call it intuition, but that’s not how their world works.

Gifts, of a sort. For their faithful service at the temple of their all-seeing god.

“He tried to get me out. Snuck in somehow, cut the ropes with this – huh, this battered old kitchen knife. But I couldn’t… they’d had me tied to the chair for so long that standing up was… I couldn’t walk, and it’s my fault, he was half-carrying me but – I slowed him down, a-and then Nikola came back. And I couldn’t do, I couldn’t do anything, there’s never anything I can do, and they pulled me away and I. I tried, Tim, I-I tried, and I wasn’t… please, Tim, you’ve got to believe I tried to stop them.”

Jon’s fingers are moving to fist in his hair, yanking, tugging, his spine moving to fold himself over.

“Stop,” Tim says sharply. Trying to loosen Jon’s clenched hold.

“I tried, I tried – everything, I offered them anything they wanted, and they just kept – I-I-I tried, Tim.”

“I know,” Tim replies. Quieter. Softer. Separating Jon’s hands from his hair, pressing them back down to his lap, his burnt one held over the other pocked with worm scars. Tim doesn’t move his own away from the fragile tower they’ve made. “I – I know, Jon.”

“Martin – there was more of them. It was easy for them, to hurt him until he stopped struggling. They didn’t tie him up, they knew they didn’t need to. A-and Nikola, she was… she s-s-smiled as they pushed him over onto his back. She – she kept smiling. And she said they didn’t need the two of us. That they could have a bit of fun, a bit of – ” Jon’s voice chokes horrified. “A bit of practise. And wouldn’t I like that. To watch. To give the Eye something to look at.”

Jon crumples into tears then. In on himself like a disintegrating star. Tim feels cold and distant for a moment as he watches this shipwreck as though through the porthole of another boat. Listening to Jon’s hitching sobbing from elsewhere.

The rage is burning off him to reveal something plain and hideous in its humanity, and Tim hates it.

Jon falls apart, and Tim stays.

“You know your Archivist killed them all? He’s got a bit of a temper on him after all. Must be all that repression.”

The newest form of the Distortion still smiles like a headache. Her fingers curve corkscrewing. Tim, who is trying to get a Snickers from the vending machine two wards along from Jon, whips his head around to glower at the unwelcome visitor.

“What do you want?”

The Distortion, who has previously called themselves Michael, and is now still Michael but not entirely, whose face has refracted into a different form – there’s been a sort of change in management, if you like, except, well, that’s not really it at all, but do feel free to call me Helen.

“I was hoping for a teeny bit of gratitude. I was the gallant rescue, after that assistant of yours blundered in and made such a pig’s ear of it.”

Tim snarls. The Distortion’s expression wavers displeased.

“Ooh, touchy, alright. Calm down, firecracker. I bought them both back breathing for you. Your Archivist would be still strapped to a chair in Stockport if it wasn’t for me, to say nothing of that woebegone assistant. Blood all over my carpets.”

Tim ignores her. The glint in her eyes suggests she’s disappointed not to have riled him up.

“What now then?”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about the Circus for a while! Dear Jonathan’s seen to that quite splendidly. Knew he had it in him. Although, I suspect, even he didn’t know he could. The Circus was always good at pushing too far.”

“And you. What about you?”

The Distortion’s smile reflects a hundred alternatives.

“Oh, I’m just waiting to see what happens next.”

Tim’s thoughts have been straying to Danny a lot. Naturally, all things considered, his trauma’s head reared high and made horrifically manifest.

Jon is not like Danny was, too stiff and self-conscious in his own bones. But Danny’s skin had been lit up with that same live-wire intensity that last night, smeared in shadows and exhaustion and tears that shone foreign on his cheeks. Tim had not recognised the crying, silent, shaking stranger in his room, just as he barely recognises Jon.

Watching him finally fall apart holds no victory for any of them.

Martin is not like Danny was. Taller, for one, wound-up over tight in his own clockwork of fears. He’d be about Danny’s age though. Maybe.

Danny went back to the Covent Garden Theatre, alone, and the being that had then gone by the name of Joseph Grimaldi had torn off his skin as easily as wrapping paper.

Martin went alone. He didn’t ask Tim for help, because he knew Tim would have said no, and there’s an ashy shame coating his tongue, knowing it would have been true.

It’s powerlessness that’s snarled him up in barbed wire, toothless and immobile. Tim’s felt powerless for a long time. That is not going to stop.

But his anger hasn’t protected him. Hasn’t protected Jon. Certainly hasn’t protected Martin.

Jon is not in bed when Tim goes back during visiting hours. The nurse directs him to another ward, indicating in few words that this jaunt was neither encouraged nor advised, but the patient was not one to be dissuaded.

Sounds like Jon.

The man himself has dressed erratically in the spares Tim bought. A t-shirt that is divorced from his own style, the colouring drawing him over-sallow, the jeans too short and trailing above his ankle. He’s squashed himself into a chair, his back folded like a shepherd’s crook, his scatter-shot energy spent into exhaustion. His hand in Martin’s wrapped one.

Martin’s awake. The ministrations of the Circus left his face mostly alone, clear enough for tubing to be threaded into his nostrils and down his throat but the bandaging is extensive. Tim would have thought he’d be away with the fairies on morphine by now, and rightly so, but his jaw sets imperious when he sees Tim. He doesn’t let go of Jon’s hand.

“You doing alright there, Marto?” Tim asks. There is another chair nearby that’s been left by a visitor long gone, and he drags it over. Tim chooses to keep his voice low, chooses to squash the anger that sparks up in him at the violence done to Martin’s body.

“What does it look like?” Martin replies. Not snapping, no wisp of anger there, but there’s a pained whipcord strain to his response, a forced pace to his breathing.

“I thought they’d have you on the good stuff,” Tim says after a moment.

Martin gestures with imprecise movements at a remote off to his right, a grey blocky shape with buttons, hooked up to some sort of patient-controlled analgesia machine.

“You not taken any?”

Martin, as best as he can, shakes his head.

“Why?”

“I just don’t want to, alright?”

Tim doesn’t push. The silence between the two of them is protracted, uncomfortable, but Tim can stand to learn some patience.

Martin’s eyes are watery, clearly trying to push through the pain. Jon sleeps on.

“He won’t tell me,” Martin says. “But it’s bad. I know it’s bad. Right?”

“Yes.”

Martin deserves his honesty. Tim doesn’t know how long Martin suffered on that factory floor until Jon ripped the Circus’ sawdust out with his fury. Long enough for the bandages to coat his arms and legs and back like lacquer, changed multiple times a day to make sure the skin grafts take, and the stitching holds.

Tim should have been there. Like he should have been there for Danny.

“God, Martin,” he says, and he’s surprised to find his throat has clenched tight. “It’s… I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? I went and got myself…” Martin trails off, swallows with difficulty. “I did this, it was all, all me. Fat lot of good it did.”

“You don’t know that…” Tim starts, but Martin looks at him and he seethes without raising his voice.

“What good’s come out of this then? Go on, Tim, tell me. I’m a – I’m a mess, and what the fuck do I have to show for it. What the fuck have any of us gained from this? I just fucked up, and it – I thought I was going to die. And worse, I thought they mightn’t let me, that they might take what they left as scraps a-a-and – ” Martin’s jaw clacks shut as he pushes down his distress.

“You saved Jon.”

“I didn’t though. The bloody – the bloody door monster showed up and did that simply fine without my help!”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what you changed. God, Martin, this whole, this entire thing is all so, it’s fucked, right, it’s…” Tim’s voice wobbles, cracks. “But you tried to do something. You tried to help. And I’m – I’m so sorry you did it alone.”

Martin doesn’t leap to forgiveness. But he nods and Tim puts his hand on the wrappings up his arm and he doesn’t move away.

“What now?” he asks after a moment.

“I don’t know.”

Martin closes his eyes.

“I’m tired,” he confesses. “I’m just so tired of all… all this.”

“We’ll think of something,” Tim says. Finding that he means it. It’s not a promise, but it’s as good as he’s able to offer these days. “You should take some of that morphine. It’ll… it’ll help.”

“It makes me feel out of it. Like, sluggish. And everything’s far away.”

“That means it’s working, Marto,” Tim says, trying for light-hearted, but Martin’s shaking his head, and the shivering is back in his hands. A wide and trembling glaze to his expression.

“If they come back…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

“I’ll stay,” Tim says. Pats Martin’s arm in a way he hopes conveys reassurance.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Martin nods. Tim helps him grasp the grey remote, push down the button. It’s not long before Martin’s drifted off.

Tim sits there for a long while, thinking about the future.

#tma #tim stoker #fic #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #cw violence #cw implied torture #cw hospitals #hurt/comfort #the magnus archives

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leggomylino · 4 years

Text

Roses Are Red | Bang Chan

Genre: fluff, a little (ridiculous) drama, and a whole lot of crack

Pairing: Bang Chan x princess!reader

Au: royal / fantasy au

Word Count: ~11.2k

Warning(s): some censored language…?, author rambling on and on, some underdeveloped plot what can I say this is mostly for laughs and giggles

Summary: Royal Gardener Christopher Bang only ever wanted to make music all his life, but being orphaned due to a senseless war against the Fire Nation left him at the hands of the kingdom to decide his fate. When tending to some of the many royal roses one day, he happened upon the kingdom’s princess, Y/n, and love at first sight was quite the understatement. However, what they are both unaware of is that she may already be betrothed to another…

A/n: Requested by @hanniiesuckle17 | Masterlist linked down below and in bio!!!

Tag List: @hanniiesuckle17 / @distrikt9 / @hanstagrams / @hyunsunq / @smolboiseavey / @jisungsjheekies / @iluvlix / @straycozy / @stay-nctzen (Let me know if you’d like to be added! Comment, ask, or DM me! <3)

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

Howdy y’all

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything in this format…

I know many of you are still waiting for me to finish light switch and let me tell you it IS still...under construction ._.”

I can’t stay loyal to one story at a time and life gets hectic ya dig?

...But I promise that EVENTUALLY MAYBE SOMETIME SOON I’ll get around to carving the second half of it

N E way let’s get this ball rolling! ->

So once upon a time in a far away land…

...Did you just roll your eyes or yawn? >:(( Don’t do that this is totally exciting

Okay so once upon a time in a far away land

There was a princess named Y/n <3 yes, that would be you, sis

She was the cream of the crop, the bees knees, the peanut butter to everyone’s jelly

...Well maybe like 90% of the jelly

There’s always gonna be haters or skeptics nothing we can do about that ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyway you were basically loved by almost everyone in the kingdom, for your kindness, hospitality, forthcomingness, honesty, bravery, generosity, and sophistication

Also, you were quite beautiful <3 like now teehee

But there was only one problem

Besides the fact that 10% of the jelly jar had peanut butter lodged in their brain

And that was that your father, the king, refused to let you go outside. Like ever. The only time you saw the sun and felt the wind through your hair was from your highest-Rapunzel-tower window, during required festival appearances or during emergency evacuations because THE FIRE NATION WAS ATTACKING!!!! 🔥 (╯°□°)╯🔥🔥🔥

This, however, rarely happened...er, maybe just once, but it was a false alarm because your half-brother Felix had stayed up too late playing video games (YES there is technology in this medieval au sorry not sorry) and he was just...seeing things

He’d been really stressed because his mother, your actually kind and not at all wicked stepmother, had been lowkey pressuring him to find a lovely princess consort or young fletching maiden

He didn’t necessarily have a problem with that, except for the fact that the whole thing was a huge problem that was stressing him out...marriage??? What was that again??? He kinda just wanted to run around the forest practicing archery with his friends, Dark Knight Changbin and Court Jester Jisung (read: pizza and video games)

BUT THIS WASN’T ABOUT HIM, THIS STORY IS ABOUT YOU (ง'̀-'́)ง

...Which is what I was getting at

You see

Felix was a great brother regardless of his mistake of screaming about a false Fire Nation attack and throwing you out of bed at 4 am

Besides being fun and great support/company, he also had this...friend...

A boy named Christopher Bang (♥‿♥)

He often went by Bang Chan tho, and he was ALSO your kingdom’s royal gardener

You know this because you often enjoyed watching him tend to the roses outside your tower, and occasionally would hide in the closet when you were SUPPOSED to be at violin lessons but instead dressed Felix up as your stunt double to spy while Chan watered and changed out the soil of the daffodils in your room

Daffodils were your favorite flower next to tulips and cherry blossoms and sunflowers

And

Almost every other flower in existence that Chan had anything to do with (♥‿♥)

...What could you say, you were hopelessly in love

But he didn’t know that

And the odd thing was

He felt the very same way about you

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

Can we finally get to some real-time story now?

Okay well

Channie’s pov now here y’all

Bang Chan had been the castle gardener for what felt like eons

His parents had disappeared to fight in the war with the Fire Nation and never came back…

:(((

So from a young age, before he was old enough to count, his mom and dad entrusted him to kingdom’s orphanage with care

The local nuns raised him well, and blessed him many times over

He grew up with two best friends there -> a shy boy named Han Jisung and a more confident one named Seo Changbin

The three of them were transferred to work under the kingdom after the local coming-of-age ceremony given to all children when they turn 15

And I totally didn’t steal half of that from an anime or anything...well, just a bit; 25%

So the three of them were whisked off to be given roles of their own to fulfill in order to contribute to society

Changbin was given the title of Dark Knight for his bravery and supreme combat skills

Jisung was awarded the title of Court Jester due to the fact he always made everyone laugh, despite his naturally shy and more introverted demeanor

And Bang Chan, as he preferred to be called, was granted the title of gardener...because...well, they actually denied his musician application, believe it or not

Now, before you get mad

I KNOW, RIGHT?!?!

ARE THESE GUYS FOOLS OR SOMETHING???

WHO WOULD DENY SUCH A TALENTED--

...Well, they were ignorant buffoons, unfortunately (｡•́︿•̀｡)

So he was forever stuck as a royal gardener because, he worked hard, the court knew it, and their predecessor gardener at the time was kidnapped by the Fire Nation

No one knows why and it’s not important (sorry random garden dude)

He’s okay though...we think

Anyway

So Bang Chan fit the role

And now at 23, to this day he still fit the role

It was the same mundane routine every day

W a t e r t h e p l a n t s

C u t t h e v e g e t a b l e s

S n i p t h e t h o r n s

T r i m t h e v i n e s

C h a n g e t h e s o i l

U G H ! ! !

It got to be downright tedious and vexing repeating the same routine like a Zombie by Day6

Which is the song he often hummed with a lull in his eyes as he w a t e r e d and c u t and s n i p p e d and t r i m m e d

And c h a n g e d eua;bhuisahfvirs WAIT A SECOND

(Oh, we’re backing up to age 16 for a sec)

He’s outside the tallest tower s n i p p i n g the thorns on another rose bush when

He looks up to see what time of day it is and stretch his aching back

And he sees

Up in the window

A g i r l ? ? ?

……

Who is she

She’s GORGEOUS

WOW

HE HAS TO SQUINT BUT HE’S STILL GOT 20/20 VISION AND HE KNOWS A CUTE GIRL WHEN HE SEES ONE

HE’S GOT TEENAGE BOY RADAR

Wowza

She’s h o t 🥵🥵

Like the sun beating down on his face right now

Hot hot

Bruuuuuuuuuuuh--

OUCH! The thorns…

He can’t be getting lost in the waking daydream glancing out her window above him, he’s got a job to do

Flashforward to a few days later, when he makes an excuse to go back to Tower C and tend to the roses that don’t need tending to

She’s not there :((

Darn

He looks left and right before burying himself into the bushes so he can wait and see if she shows up

But this poor boy is so overworked that he falls asleep

Poor guy needed a nap anyway 😔😔

He’s having a peaceful dreamless sleep when a song enters his mind

It’s actually a song he wrote, when he applied to be a castle musician

He wakes to hearing the song above him

The sweet, sweet melody just wafting daintily through the air

It’s coming from somewhere above him

...But he’s snagged in the thorn bush and can’t get out 🗿💧

O o p s

Rip

Maybe the bushes did need some work after all--

By the time he rips himself out and basically lost half of his shirt in the process, the song is almost over, coming to a soft decrescendo into a gentle pianissimo

That’s fancy music talk for slowly growing softer and more quiet and ending with a soft, maybe slightly breathy tone

Thankfully it’s cloudy that day so he doesn’t have to squint this time

And BOY IS HE GLAD ABOUT THAT BECAUSE GOOD GRAVY

IT’S HER AGAIN

THE LOVELY MAIDEN HE SAW TWO DAYS AGO

WHO IS SHE?!?!

“Oh, that’s Princess Y/n.”

JISUNG?!?! WHERE DID YOU COME FROM

Boy deadass just pops out of a rose bush like a weasel 🗿💧 what the what

His court jester hat has a few loose thorns in it, and it’s fallen askew to cover half of his face

“...That’s Princess Y/n?” Chan askes, totally in awe

You have such a lovely voice

And he’s bewildered as to how you know his song, seeing as it was a confidential piece he only played for a private group of royals once when auditioning

Jisung just nods, fixing his hat only to have a few of the bells bounce around and whop him in the face

One jingled all the way right into his eye…

But he carries on unaffected; must be used to it <_<

“Yeah, her dad is a total overbearing crazy-protective psycho. ...Well, maybe not psycho, but...he’s crazy protective of his daughter. He’s scared if she takes one step outside, some Fire Nation goon is gonna come popping out of a bush like Team Rocket in almost every old school pokemon episode and kidnap her like Pikachu.”

“...I thought Pikachu always got away.”

“...Oh yeah. 🤔 Bad example then.”

“You are a bad example.”

“Oh yeah?! Well you’re...a good example!”

“...Jisung that was a compliment. And thank you.”

“.........”

...Moving on

“What can you tell me about her?”

“OOOOOOO...Why? You got a crush on her, bro?”

“...I’m just...curious why the king would wanna keep her locked away in a tower like a Christian Anderson tale.”

Jisung sighs and places his hands on his hips like a lecturing mother. “Are you serious? I just told you, His Majesty is crazy overprotective of his only daughter...also, wouldn’t you wanna keep a beauty like that locked away if she were your daughter???”

Chan gives him a disgusted look. “No? Because I’m not an insecure psychopath?? Everyone deserves to be happy and free…” He glances up to the tower. “That can’t be healthy being held prisoner in a giant dungeon like that.”

“True, true...I’d still keep her locked away, though.”

“Jisung!!! Seriously?!”

“WHAT?” (ง'̀-'́)ง “I KNOW HOW TEENAGE BOYS ARE!!! THEY’RE GONNA CATCH THESE HANDS BEFORE I LET ONE OF THEIR GRUBBY LITTLE--”

Chan clamps his hand over his friend’s mouth. “I’m gonna stop you right there. Goodbye, Jisung.”

He looks at you one last time, marveling at your beauty with a hint of pity in his eyes before walking away

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

You hadn’t noticed that day, seven years ago, being too lost in a daydream over whether you wanted tea or a nice iced latte with your lunch...despite how loud they were being

It was one of the few enjoyments of your day

One the few things you got to look forward to: choosing what to have for a meal

Choosing what to wear that was within your parent’s standards

Choosing whether you wanted to wile away the hours reading a book or watching Royal TV or scribbling some poorly drawn comics of what your life COULD be like were you NOT a princess with an overbearing father…

S i g h

You’re hanging upside down on your giant canopy bed in a very unladylike fashion when Felix enters the room. You must have not heard him knock, and he’s like

😳😳💧

To which you “oop-” and quickly throw yourself over in an upright position

“...Sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s fine.” He laughs a bit and closes the door behind him. “So, whatcha up to?”

“......”

Did he have to ask you that? The question sort of burned. What were you supposed to do??? “Just...chillin.”

“Like a villain?”

“In the...millen.”

He laughed at your attempt to carry out the rhyme. “What’s a millen?”

You shrugged. He sat down at the dining table you normally ate at, crossing his feet over the table. “Well, I’ll do you one better. I came to ask if you’d like to accompany me to--”

“WHERE?!?!?!”

\(ಠAಠ)/

You’re right there in his face, shaking his shoulders before he can get another word out.

Felix, wanting to take you OUT OF THE PALACE?!??!?!?!?

THAT WAS HUGE

THIS WAS HUGE

OMGRAVY WHAT WOULD YOU WEAR?!

YOU DIDN’T EVEN CARE WHERE YOU WERE GOING, JUST THE FACT THAT YOU WERE GETTING OUT OF THE HOUSE WAS ENOUGH

...You should still probably let him finish, though

Felix (@-@) <- was dizzy for a moment, but once he got his head back on straight, he explained that he’d ask your father if the two of you could go shopping together-- just for a few hours

Felix was the sweetest brother ;-; the sweetest BOY ಥ_ಥ

You were going to have so much fun browsing the shops that you’d only ever read about in novels and seen on TV

The two of you would get popcorn and ice cream and feed the pigeons and do rain dances around the park fountain

And you’d come back with so many souvenirs and nostalgic timepieces from your little journey (╥﹏╥)

It was going to be the BEST. DAY. EVER!

*insert that Spongebob episode here*

……

Or not

Because

Shortly after the two of you skipped hand-in-hand like Hansel and Gretel down to the Royal Throne room

Your father gave the two of you a big fat N O

Jerk…

His booming voice declared, “NO BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER OF MINE WILL BE SEEN BILLOWING ABOUT THE CITY STREETS!!! That’s like asking to be kidnapped and used as a means of war!!!”

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUASDFGHJKL;;SVBU;IABV;SIFABVIFARHVS

HE DIDN’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING BUT WAR AND TAXES!!! IT WAS SO ANNOYING!!!

So, the two of you are forced back to your room alone…

And Felix comforts you and apologizes a thousand times over, words that should coming out of your father’s mouth instead

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

~LATER THAT DAY~

Well, it’s more like evening now

The sun is setting comfortably over the horizon

And Felix has just returned from his shopping trip without you 😔😔

Now before you get angry and call him a traitor, he actually had a fit and refused to go

He even came close to knocking over a table

But that wouldn’t be very gentlemanly and his mother was present

It was his mother that insisted he had to go in order to make a required public appearance for the kingdom and “hopefully find a lady that spotted his fancy” or whatever

Yeah, Felix rolled his eyes too

But he had no choice ://

If it makes you feel any better, he didn’t enjoy himself at all

He spent the whole time thinking about you and looking wistfully at the palace in the distance, to the tower you were most likely glaring wistfully back from

He was now tromping tired princely feet up the winding steps to at least give you a nice gift he’d brought back for you, and some flowers he’d gotten from a recently opened flower shop called Christopher’s Garden

A very nice not-yet-elderly couple ran the shop in honor of their lost son, who they hadn’t heard from since they returned from war

The story was quite sad and bittersweet

……

Shhh we’ll get there later it’s called foreshadowing（∩‿∩）

He’s about three-quarters of the way there when he’s suddenly ambushed by-- you guessed it-- Team Rocket!1!1

Jk it’s Jisung and Changbin

They’re the new Jessie and James of this story except they’re actually good

“Felix!!!”

“SH*T!!!”

Oop

They nearly gave him a heart attack!!! >A<

He almost beats them with the flowers, too, until he remembers last minute they’re for you

“WHAT DO YOU WANT NEVER DO THAT AGAIN”

“I CAN’T MAKE ANY PROMISES BUT WE NEED TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT SOMETHING”

“WHAT IS IT”

Changbin sighs in his heavy, overzealous knightly gear. “Maybe the two of you can keep it down before you wake the princess?”

Felix shrugs. “Eh, Y/n is always up at this hour. She’s actually a night owl, but don’t tell the king that. Or her teachers.”

Bin smirks. “Noted--”

<_<

Felix has to smack him, which is a hard two second decision but you’re his sister and family comes first 😔😔 But he makes it up by giving Bin a flower, which he awkwardly accepts

“So what was it you wanted to tell me?”

Jisung nods his jingle bell hat all over the place like a bobblehead. “Yeah, okay, so-- check this out!”

He jumps a few steps ahead so he can have room to put on a one-man show. Changbin groans and crosses his arms, while Felix eyes him curiously

“I have this friend, right? Well, we do, actually! Me and Changbin!”

The Dark Knight tilts his head. “You mean Chan?”

“YEA-- I mean, yeah!” He starts bouncing around, mining walking around the garden surrounding the palace walls. “So...I never told you this, but a few years ago...more like seven, I was going for a walk when I spotted him outside the princess’ tower! And I stopped and went ten-thousand stealth mode!”

He mimes diving into the bushes. Changbin rolls his eyes.

“He’d totally fallen asleep in the rose bushes, so I--”

“Could you maybe not talk like you’re twelve?”

“......”

Before the two can start quarreling like a couple of twelve year olds, Felix takes on a responsible air, stepping between them

“Hang on...your friend? Was loitering outside my sister’s room?”

Jisung pops his head over Changbin, which really isn’t that hard. “Yeah, he’s the royal gardener! But like, I don’t think the roses needed tending to that day...and after I revealed myself, he was asking a LOT-- well a few...questions about her. Hint hint, my boy’s in love.”

“Love?”

“Love, bro. Like the real sappy stuff.”

“...Love.”

“...Yes.”

“Your friend. Is in love with my sister.”

“...That would be what I just told you, yes.”

“...Wait. Chan as in, Bang Chan? ...OUR friend Chan?!”

“That’s him!”

“Okay okay hold on,” Changbin waves his arms through the air. “Love is a strong word...and this is Chan we’re talking about. He loves just about everybody. He’s nice and empathetic to everyone. Just last week I had to turn away two maids and a palace chef who’d gotten the same mixed signals.”

Jisung shrugs. “Yeah, well…”

“Also this was seven years ago?!”

“...Yeah…”

Changbin deadpans. “So you got me all hyped about jumping Felix for some love story that probably isn’t even real. Seven years is a long time, Jisung. He may have forgotten about her already-- NOT THAT SHE’S SOMEONE TO BE FORGOTTEN.”

He had to finish that last sentence real quick from the look Felix was giving him. The boy sighs, shifting his gifts into one arm so he can run a small hand through his wind-blown hair. “...This is kind of crazy Jisung, even for you. Why are you bringing this up now of all times?”

“...Well…”

👉👈

“I overheard a royal meeting I shouldn’t have about an hour ago...and your dad was talking about having Y/n engaged.”

“What?!?”

“To the Fire Nation king.”

“WHAT?!?!”

“People often refer to him as Zuko, for reasons unknown, but his real name is Minho.”

“.........”

With fever and a newfound energy, Felix tries bursting up the steps to your room. But unfortunately, Team Rocket stops him.

“MOVE! I have to talk to Y/n about this!!!”

“Hang on! The whole reason I brought up my homeboy in the first place was to maybe stop this suspiciously dangerous and shady deal! If Y/n has already fallen in love with someone else, maybe the king will have a change of heart!!!”

Felix groans, glaring harshly in a manner that isn’t really like him. “Han, her father keeps her locked away in a plush-tailored dungeon and refuses to let her go outside, not even on a short shopping trip with her own brother. He doesn’t want her to be seen, and he certainly doesn’t want her falling in love.”

“Well--!” Han balls his hands into fists. “I WAS TRYING OKAY?! I LIKE Y/N TOO, SHE’S A TIMEPIECE GAL WHEN I’M ACTUALLY ALLOWED TO BE WITHIN TEN FEET OF HER!!!”

“Dang…” Changbin groans. “So you don’t think I’ll be able to ask her out this weekend?”

“......” “......”

The glare he gets from both men is a definite no

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

So what are we to do about a situation like this?

Well I’m glad you asked because we’re about to find out

IRONICALLY right at that moment, you were supposed to be in a late-running math session on how taxing the economy works but

Instead you were blissfully hidden in the closet, watching Chan plant a newly discovered breed of roses on your balcony the author forgot to mention you even had

It was an indoor balcony of sorts; fenced in with mesh and curtains to keep the bugs and trespassers out

There was a cute little garden table with comfy chairs and a small bookshelf

As well as a mini bar and even a small stereo system B))

You’re the princess sis

This was your world since you weren’t allowed to experience the real one

To explain, you had a window right next to it that you often looked out, since your balcony was more or less closed off…

Hopefully that makes sense ._.”

Alright anyhoo

So Chan is planting some gorgeous purple roses that only ever existed in Animal Crossing until now

The most lusciously soft and purpley purple that ever was and ever would be

And here’s you, hunkered down in the closet like a stalker spying on him with one eye and a slit through the cracked door

WHEN ALL OF A SUDDEN

Bang!

The door flies open!

A wild Felix appears!1!1

Uh-oh

He’s probably looking for you, but given the equally wild look on his face

He’s probably not aware of Chan’s job, coming in to tend to your plants when you’re scheduled to be absent

Wait they’re friends right

So he isn’t gonna kill him...right?!

Or does this mean he was gonna kill him that much more?!

OH NO

FELIX NO PLS

You’re holding your breath and waiting for the right moment to pounce and topple your half-brother to the floor when apprehensively

He checks his surroundings quickly before shutting the door behind him

……

What the what is this about--

“We need to talk,” Felix starts, pacing to the dining table where he usually sits. Chan freezes, blinking a few times into the roses and the air above them before turning a blank stare the prince’s way.

“Okay,” he states back, “what’s on your mind?”

“About Y/n…”

About you?

“Princess Y/n? What about?”

Yes, what about you?

“...Jisung…” he sighs. “Look, I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked. Let me start by apologizing about that.”

“Oh, no need to apologize. You’re the prince, and I’m the gardener. We’re both quite busy with our—“

“Jisung told me you like Y/n.”

………

…………

……………

I’m s o r r y

WhAT WAS THAT

WHAT DID HE JUST SAY?!

Okay okay hold up

Han Jisung was the court clown and notorious for pranks and lying his ass off

Surely this was just a (albeit cruel) joke…

...Right?!

…

Bang Chan’s ears are turning red

Redder than the roses outside your window

He’s biting his lip, like he wants to say something, but is trying hard to suppress said something

His hands are clenched down into the dirt…

“...Well?” asks Felix. “Is it true?”

“...It’s…”

!!!

WHAT WHAT IT’S WHAT

TELL ME FLOWER BOY WHAT IS IT

SPILL THE BEANS ALREADY

Haha get it…

Beans……

Like seeds……..

...Anyway

“......”

He nods, softly, barely. Bang Chan nods his approval at Felix’s proposed statement.

Is this even real right now…?

Is this allowed?! 😩

Instead of jumping the guy like you thought he would, Felix instead smiles, so brightly it would be enough to scare off the Fire Nation and save thousands of lives

“Oh wow. Oh f*ck. You like my sister. This is...shouldn’t I be mad right now?”

He begins to pace

“...But I’m not. I’m genuinely okay with this. Better than okay. It’s...weird.”

“Probably because Y/n may be saved from marrying Prince Hellhole of the Underworld now.”

The two of them (and you still in the closet) jump at the sound of a new voice wafting in from the ceiling. Looking up, a set of bells can be seen hanging out if the air vent

...Has that always been there?!

Oh my gravy what if Han Jisung has spied on you before

What if someone else has?!

Felix scowls angrily at the vent before lifting a pen off your desk and throwing it with surprisingly good accuracy

It must have hit something because next thing you know Jisung is saying “ow!” and climbing down at the Prince’s demand

“What the hell were you doing up there?!”

“Detective work.”

“You’re banned from doing detective work anywhere near this room.”

“What about Changbin?”

“What?!”

“Oh uhhh...nothing.”

The clanking of heavy armor trying to escape travels across the ceiling…

And Felix huffs.

“CHANGBIN I KNOW THAT’S YOU.”

~~~

So I’m gonna do a mini skip right here to get the ball rolling

After Bin is dragged down and everyone (minus you) is accounted for

The four guys are sitting around your dining table, a sinister(?) plot coming to notion

“Okay,” Felix begins, “So what we know is, according to what Jisung overheard, this arms race war of sorts against the Fire Nation is coming to a rock and a hard place for both sides. And to resolve this issue, it would appear that Y/n is being offered as a bargaining chip. A wedding to unite the two kingdoms.”

……

Everyone is pretty silent

You included, not that you can say anything at the moment…

But just because you’re silent on the outside doesn’t mean you don’t have a million thoughts racing through your head

Let’s get to the most pressing one that’d likely catch your attention first: MARRIAGE?!?!

With whom?!?!

How dare some old geezers try and pawn you off without your permission?! To the enemy?!? To a man you didn’t even know?!?!

WHAT IF HE WAS REALLY OLD

OR GROSS

OR BOTH

OR WHAT IF--

Han suddenly has something to say

Then again when does the boy not

He lunges across the table to grasp at Chan’s hands. “PLEASE, YOU HAVE TO MARRY THE PRINCESS SO SHE WON’T BE SENT AWAY AND I CAN STOP AWKWARDLY CATCHING YOU SPYING ON HER OUTSIDE!!!”

!!!

OH UH

WHA?!

Chan’s ears are turning red again. He’s got a brow quirked like he doesn’t know what Jisung is talking about, but averts his gaze all the same in a guilty manner

Felix is tapping his fingers against his forearm in an attempt to ignore that confession

And Changbin is just sitting next to Chan half confused and half annoyed

“I- I can’t just… Jisung what you’re asking is…”

“It’s too much,” Bin cuts in. “Jisung you can’t just ask someone, much less tell them, to marry a person they have a far-longing crush on, but really know nothing about. They’ve never even spoken to each other before, I can assume, and you’re telling them to spend the rest of their lives in a commitment? That’s intense.”

Jisung pouts. “Yeah, but…!”

“What if we just faked a marriage?”

Three stunned faces (four if we’re counting you) turn eyes upon the eldest and only prince. He smiles warmly, sending a warily comforting shiver down your spine that you have trouble placing as good or bad.

“What do you mean?” Changbin asks.

“I doubt the king is going to accept Y/n’s wishes in all of this, so we can’t just have her or Chan ask to be wed. But if they’re already married…”

Jisung’s face lights up. “Then there’s nothing the king or Fire Nation fools can do about it!!! That’s BRILLIA--”

“But it would just be a ruse. We’ll have a fake license made, and I can supply the rings. I’ve got plenty of underground connections~”

You’re looking at Chan’s face to see what he thinks of all this, but unfortunately his back is to you, and Changbin is blocking 90% of your view…

You can, however, see that his ears are still a flushed scarlet, as well as the base of his neck

“Would you be okay with that?”

He jumps. Felix and the others blink expectantly.

“...Huh?”

“...Are you okay with being my sister’s fake husband for a few hours?”

It’s gotta be the awkwardest question you’ve ever heard coming out of your brother’s mouth, but then…

“Yeah. If it’ll protect Y/n...let’s do it.”

……

It’s the first time you’ve heard him not refer to you as the princess, but rather, just yourself

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

OKAY WE’RE GONNA TRY AND START CRAMMING THINGS WITHOUT CRAMMING TOO MUCH BECAUSE HNNNNN I DON’T WANT THIS TO BE TOO LONG AND DRAWN OUT ಥ_ಥ

SO ON THAT NOTE

Meanwhile in a diabolical castle not too far away but still kinda far

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

We’ve got an evil firelord named Zuko over here

But he’s not really evil :(( In fact he’s not evil at all!!!

His name isn’t even Zuko it’s Minho

And he’s just kinda mean is all…

Just a smidge | |

“My Lord Zuko!!!” An attendant bows, groveling at the steps to the throne

He’s some weird guy with an eyepatch

Not important but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

The Fire King growls, swirling a glass of something strong

“I told you that’s not my name,” he states, tossing the glass after a single gulp. Dang. Intense.

The attendant :((, covering his face like a scared manchild. “PLEASE FORGIVE ME YOUR GRACE!!!”

Minho rolls his eyes. “If I do, will you man up and give me the details on the Nation of (Your Kingdom Name Here)?”

“Oh, yes, yes! Thank you, sire!!!”

“...S u r e.” He blinks a few times, only sparing the slightest hint of a smile when one of the three cats wandering the kingdom jumps onto his lap. “Well? Get on with it.”

“Yes, sire, right away!” Patchy pulls out an enormously large scroll that should NOT have been able to fit in his pocket similar to the mechanics of Animal Crossing (seriously how is it you’re able to fit a giant whale into your pocket and like a freaking tarantula and a hive of wasps like idk about you sis but I would NOT be putting those things in my pocket-) “It would appear that the Princess of (Nation) has given her consent to marry His Royal Highness of the Tallest Order Fire Nation King Zu-- ...L-Lee Minho of the Tallest Order of the Nation of Fire and All Things Cat Related.”

Minho is nodding, a pleasant smirk on his face. Things were just going swimmingly for him. “Perfect. Just as I thought they would. Seungmin? Jeongin?”

From the shadows, two boys stepped forward. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Please plan my arrival to the Nation of (Your Nation) at once. I’d like to arrive no later than the end of the week.”

“...Sire, with all due respect…” Seungmin swallows. “That’s in two days. Normally, I’d have to send a carrier pigeon to customs since you banned technology after that one disapproving cat commercial, and as you know, your cats are constantly eating both the birds and the notes…”

“......”

Minho shrugs. “And? So? Just write a new note and buy more birds. There’s no time to waste!”

Seungmin and Jeongin share a look. Arguing against the King would be suicide, so…

“...Yes, Your Unreasonable Grace.”

“Grea-- wait what?”

Comically, they both vanish before any more words can be said.

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

Moving right along here

That night, after the sun has fully set and you’re getting ready to tuck yourself into bed

There’s a strange sound coming from the window…

. . .

Creepy but probably nothing

It’s just the wind, right?

You choose to ignore it and continue organizing the pillows (and dolls?) on your bed in a fashion that suits your fancy when

Tap Tap Tap

. . .

It’s either an incredible coincidence that wind can tap in such a rhythmic fashion, and not so sporadically, or…

There’s someone at the window

...No, really

SOMEONE IS OUTSIDE SIS

THERE’S A FREAKY LOOKIN’ SHADOW RIGHT THERE

On the twelfth floor tho?!

…

Should you answer it

Survey says no

Are you going to?

The stars say yes

BUT FIRST WE MUST ARM OURSELVES BC WE AREN’T TOTAL DUMDUMS 😩

You grab an ornate candlestick from your nightstand and start heading that way

Slowly, carefully, one foot at a time

The closer you get, the more prominent the shadow outside the window becomes…

It almost looks kinda like…

...A tumbleweed? A scarecrow???

………

You’re scared

SOMEONE COMING THIS HIGH MUST BE SKILLED AND DETERMINED AND HAS TO KNOW IT’S YOU OR MAYBE IT’S A THIEF THAT--

“Princess? Princess Y/n?”

!!!

Gasp you know that voice

It’s… …

Without a moment to lose you ditch the candlestick and unlock the hinges, tossing the windows open to…

Watch your beloved…

...Almost fall and crack his head open ._.”

Chan is laughing nervously hanging onto the windowsill with a faint pink mark on his cheek from where the window popped him

You cry out nervously and with an effort on both parts, manage to hoist him inside

Where he clichely falls on top of you 🌚🌚 Teehee 🥴

You can feel the heat rising to your face and swirling around your head that’s already been spinning with thoughts for a while now

And Chan, catching his breath over you, practically mirrors that reaction

I Am You

I see me in you--

Okay sorry

Chan laughs the whole thing off and rolls himself off like Nishinoya performing his famous Rolling Thunder, and helps you up while profusely asking if you’re alright, if you need to sit down, you should probably sit down, oh I’m so sorry Felix told me you stayed up late so--

Ah wait

“He told you that? When?”

You’re now sitting on the side of your bed, and Chan is standing a few feet away with windblown hair that could easily be mistaken for a tumbleweed through the dead of night

The fact that you’re staring at it makes him a little self conscious, but really you were just thinking about how cute he looks

“Uh, he told me a few hours ago. We were just...chatting, and um…”

……

He cuts himself off and sighs into his hands

“I’m so sorry. You probably don’t even know who I am.”

“I do.”

“You do?”

“I do.” You smile. “You’re the gardener. Your name is…” You blush. “Christopher Bang. You take care of the roses at the base of the tower and you planted the purple ones on my balcony today. You’re also a friend of my brother’s.”

“Wow, okay yeah.” He smiles back. Seeing him smiling at you while acknowledging the other, the faint flicker of candlelight (Felix broke your lamp during a karate stunt to make you laugh)...it’s almost too much to handle. “That would sort of explain why you let an absolute stranger into your bedroom at night.”

………

Oop

He had a point there

Blame the author sis she’s got three other WIPs rn and wanted to get this done while doing a semi-decent job (｡•́︿•̀｡)💧

“I-I just...have a strong sense of adventure,” you lied. Kinda. Reality was, you really WERE longing for a chance to explore and have just a little excitement in your life instead of the same boring gray stone walls each and every day

Lucky for you, that’s exactly what Chan was here for

The next thing you see is his hand in your face (a still-respectable distance away), offering you quite the gentlemanly smile. He managed to fix that windblown hair of his in the seconds you spent spaced out over your longing to leave this place

“Come on. I actually came here to ask if you’d like to go somewhere with me.”

~~~

A little disclosure here

Normally, you should never, EVER let someone you don’t really know into your home (much less your bedroom) late at night, and you certainly should not agree to go somewhere with them

This is just common knowledge, I know

But, for crack, time, and in the spirit of classic fairytales, I’m going to allow it to happen :)))

~~~

AND SO, Y/n chooses to defy common sense, and takes the hand of the boy she really likes (▰˘◡˘▰)

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

To make things slightly less weird and insanely unnatural, Chan gives you a note from Felix. It’s got his secret seal of approval that he only uses when addressing letters to you, one that only the two of you know about, so it’s gotta be legit and valid

🙄🙄

Just pretend it makes things A LITTLE bit better for me, okay?

“Author do you know how illogical this all is and that, like, ANYONE could figure out--”

YEAH OKAY JUST GO WITH IT PLS 😩😩

The note says:

𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒴/𝓃, 𝒴𝑒𝑒𝓉! 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓃, 𝐼 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒𝒹 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 ;) 𝐼 𝒹𝒾𝒹 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒶 𝒸𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝓉𝑜𝑔𝑒𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇...𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉, 𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓁, 𝓅𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃...𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓈𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝓅𝒶𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝓂𝑒. 𝐼𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒸𝒶𝓊𝓈𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝒽𝒾𝓂, 𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉? 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝑜𝓎 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒. 𝐼'𝓋𝑒 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓃 𝒽𝒾𝓂 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝐼'𝓂 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓉 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒢𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓃𝑜𝓃𝑒 𝑜𝒻 𝓊𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝒶𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓅𝓇𝑜𝓋𝒾𝒹𝑒 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊. 𝒫.𝒮. - 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓃, 𝓈𝑜 𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓅 𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒, 𝒴/𝓃!

𝒜𝓁𝓇𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓂𝒶𝓃, 𝓃𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝐼 𝑔𝑜𝓉𝓉𝒶 𝒹𝑜 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝒾𝓉. 𝒴/𝓃 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝑒 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒽𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒽𝒶𝓇𝓂𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑜𝓊𝒸𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓊𝓃𝓈𝒸𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑒𝒹 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝒷𝓎 𝓃𝑜 𝓁𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓃 𝓂𝒾𝒹𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐼 𝒷𝑒𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝒻𝓊𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝒷𝓊𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓃 𝑒𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇. 𝐵𝓊𝓉 𝓂𝑜𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓂𝓅𝑜𝓇𝓉𝒶𝓃𝓉𝓁𝓎, 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓃𝒾𝒸𝑒 𝓉𝒾𝓂𝑒. :)

-- 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝑜𝓀𝒶𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑒𝓈𝓈, 𝐹𝑒𝓁𝒾𝓍 (ℱ )

...Well, there you had it

Now, onto the date! …

WAIT DID THIS COUNT AS A DATE?!

uHHHHHH

ಥ_ಥ 💧

IDK SIS JUST GO WITH IT FOR NOW, GO GO GO!

Chan is about to take your hand and wisk you out the window like Rapunzel or some Romeo and Juliet au (hey btw??? That ain’t a bad idea someone request this from me)

He nearly forgets about the height difference and the fact that he don’t have any rope or long flowing locks to grab onto to :D so instead the two of you opt for an idea that comes to you after nearly tearing your room apart to look for rope:

THE AIR VENT!!!

You have to move some furniture around but it’s not like anyone is gonna come into your room or find out about you missing anyway

Reader: “Chan came into my room tho--”

SHHHHH THAT’S DIFFERENT IT’S CALLED PLOT CONTINUATION

Now

After getting lost for approximately ten minutes in the winding air ducts, Chan manages to get his poor sleep deprived brain together and leads you down the right path, coming to a purifying viel(?) he knocks out of the way to kick the door open to outside

AND THEN

IT’S THE MOST GLORIOUS AND MAGICAL THING

IT’S

（つ﹏╰）

SIS IT’S OUTSIDE

IT’S THE OUTSIDE WORLD

YOU DID IT--

……

You can’t do it

Chan jumps out easily onto the grass to some East side of the palace, but you just sit there, hunkered down in the opening space of the vent

Just staring at it

The grass

The trees

The tumbleweed that is Chan’s hair blow by

It’s almost too much…

Your body won’t move. You’ve been locked away in the palace for so long now...something inside of you is telling you it’s morally wrong to change that now.

“Hey wait author I have a question”

I’m kinda in the middle of telling a semi-deep part of the story but okay sure

“If Chan and I were on the twelfth floor how is it that we made it to the--”

SHHHHH AGAIN JUST HUMOR ME AND DON’T OVERTHINK THINGS

Chan is watching you with some sort of softness in his eyes illuminated by starlight. He holds his hands out to you.

“It’s okay. If you need me to, I can carry you for as long as I’m able.”

…

But you refuse

You need to cross this bridge

And then you need to burn it 🔥

NO GOING BACK SIS

NO GOING BACK 😤😤

...Except you’re always open for an excuse to be close to Chan so 🤪💓

You jump in his arms without much of a second thought, and without thinking he spins you around, and a moment later

Both of your slippered feet hit the ground below

Soft earth enveloping your heels

Blades of grass tickling your skin

It’s so WEIRD BUT

It’s a good kind of weird

A kind of weird you’d love to get used to

Hand in hand the two of you slip off after that, out into that starry starry night that looks like a Van Gogh painting

It’s beautiful and blurred yet sharp and soft yet bright and you feel like queen of the world as you’re running through Central Park, riding on Chan’s shoulders

Dancing around the center fountain

Nearly blowing your cover when a racoon runs by

It’d be kinda bad if someone saw you, much less recognized who you were 😅

The two of you lay on the hillside, where Chan makes up stories about the stars and you smile at the sound of his voice, and the feeling of wildflowers against your cheek

You’re so enthralled that you scarcely notice when his voice trails off as he’s watching you, admiring your beauty as he often has in days gone by, only this time it’s up close and nearly surreal

The girl of his dreams lying in a bed of flowers

Not palace-tainted ones either -> wildflowers, flowers that are free to billow any way the wind takes them

And the moonlight casting perfectly angular shadows over your body

He has to get a hold of himself and tear himself away with a sharp breath

……

But he’s adding the image to a memory in his heart, that’s for sure

He takes a moment to mull over it a few more times before dusting himself off, standing, and reaching out to you. Something you also want to get used to other than being in the Great Outdoors. “Come on,” he says, “We’ve almost used up all our time, and I haven’t even been able to show you the town yet.”

SHOPPING~! (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥

...Ah wait it was night time 😔 You’d have to settle for just seeing the sights and playing pretend

“We’re gonna do something called window shopping.”

“Window shopping?” You ask, taking your first steps down main street. “What’s that?”

Surprisingly, there were a few stragglers still out and about at this hour, so you had to keep your head down and wander as seamlessly as possible off to the side of the road.

“Window shopping is when you wander around a shopping district just to look at the stuff on display. You shop with your eyes and pick out things you like.”

That sounded kinda fun

Of course anything with Chan sounded like a good time to you (♥‿♥)

And so, still hand in hand, the two of you quietly walked the cobblestone streets, examining clothes and trinkets in the large glass windows of stores and commenting lightly on things you liked/disliked

And, over a short span of time, you felt a gentle shift as Chan entwined his fingers with yours

ƪ(˘⌣˘)┐ ƪ(˘⌣˘)ʃ ┌(˘⌣˘)ʃ

You wander the streets for a while longer, taking a left here, a right there, when after pacing a little ways down a side street connecting to a sleepy neighborhood, Chan stops quite abruptly

His arms and posture is rigid af, so it almost yanks you back a bit, and a little startled you look up to see what it is he’s gawking at

…

It’s a flower shop

And the big sign across the roof’s edge says, “Christopher’s Garden”

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

Christopher’s Garden was the name Chan’s parents had wanted to name the flower shop the two of them had dreamed of opening together

Chan knows this because of the letters he’d receive at the orphanage during the war

The last letter he received was when he was eleven years old; a simple “hello we miss you” update with a miniature bouquet of pressed wildflowers

Flowers he still kept in his small room at the palace, tapped to the inside of the box where all his letters are stored

Faintly, he reaches out towards the sign, like it’s the only thing around him; suddenly there is no village, no night time, and there almost isn’t a Y/n either

Not that you aren’t important…

He just simply can’t believe that…

…

This couldn’t be real, it had to be a coincidence

A cruel one, but still

A coincidence nonetheless

And he’d continue to think that had he not lowered his hand, and found the face of an older man staring back at him

A man with burn marks on his cheeks and the scars of war apparent in both his features and his eyes

He has to grip the doorway to keep himself from falling backward

For it may have been many years, but he could never forget the face of his own son; not even after time had aged him

The parental spark was just there, a father’s intuition

……

As if seeming to understand, Y/n lets him go

She retreats stage left, one, two paces

And watches with heartfelt joy as the two men embrace somberly beneath the moonlight.

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

You wanted to stay and watch

You really really did

You wanted to be that support beam for Chan, but

In a way, you also didn’t want to intrude on such an important family moment

...And you were more or less due back at midnight 🙄 Cinderella much?

You’re racing along the alleyways right now

Slippers puffing a muffled breath with each step along the pavement

Buildings casting shadows and jagged shapes of light along the way

A random cloth you borrowed from behind a grocery masking your head

You found it lying over some crates of produce; and you may or may not have borrowed a few plums for the road, too…

...You’d have someone pay them back with interest 🤷

You probably should have told Chan you were heading back, but

He needed his family, right?

This was really important to him, you could tell he obviously hadn’t seen his dad, uncle, or whoever that man was back there in a while

You could catch him up later, right?

He’d probably spend the night there and be back by morning or mid-afternoon

You’re just now reaching a fork in the road

You could keep going straight or make a slanted right venturing toward the front gate, which connects the pastures of hills (making up Central Park) to the palace

……

It would probably be better to stick the backways, but you didn’t know the area that well…

If you went back into civilization, although it was after curfew and despite your disguise, someone may still spot you

What to do what to do what to--

“So you’re the Princess of (Kingdom Name).”

!!!

Did

Did someone just--

ARE THEY TALKING TO YOU?!?

RUN?!

DO WE RUN ...

“You don’t have to be frightened.” the voice says, stepping closer. “I’m here to take you home.”

……...

🚩🚩🚩

:))))))))

Yes okay now we RUN 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️💨

You make a break for it down the straight path, letting your veil fly away from your body and temporarily blind whoever’s following you

You also make good use of those plums you stole, tossing them like bombs over your shoulder

“Argh--! Dang it, sh*t, I can’t sEE--” Your pursuers flail about before shredding the cloth to bits, whipping the fruit off their faces. “AFTER HER!!!”

!!!!!!

DID HE JUST SAY--?!

HHHHHHHHHHHH

The sound of heavy metal clanging against cobblestone bounces off the space behind you as you’re pounding, scrambling, flinging yourself in a zigzag pattern in case someone is trying to snipe you

IT’S WHAT ALL THE RIDICULOUS HEROES IN MOVIES DO, OKAY?!

IT’S MORE OR LESS EFFECTIVE

But alas there are so many boxes and wheelbarrows and junk in the way...

MOVE FASTER YOU CAN HEAR THEM GAINING ON YOU

But wait who even is “them” anyway???

Do you even need to know?! It was probably some councilman your stepmother or father pissed off

You’d seen it all on TV and read plenty of horror stories in books to know there were endless reasons why someone would be targeting you for vengeance

...And, also…

……

Blast it all

You could hear your father’s voice echoing:

“NO BEAUTIFUL DAUGHTER OF MINE WILL BE SEEN BILLOWING ABOUT THE CITY STREETS!!! That’s like asking to be kidnapped and used as a means of war!!!”

“A means of war!!!”

…………………………………...g u l p

ಥ_ಥ

YOU JUST WANTED TO HAVE A GOOD TIME OKAY

THAT’S ALL

GIRLS JUST WANNA HAVE FUN 😩😩

HE SHOULD TRY SITTING ON HIS ASS DAY IN AND DAY OUT IT’S MIND-NUMBINGLY BORING 🔥🔥🔥

But boy were you getting your fill of excitement now

If you could just make it back to the palace, maybe you could use this as an excuse

Say you were kidnapped and made a grand escape

...It wasn’t a TOTAL lie…

“Oh Princess~ Princess Y/n, slow down, won’t you please?!”

LIBSDIBVISAFBILSFIL

NOT ON YOUR LIFE BUDDY 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️💨

WE AIN’T ABOUT TO DIE

GOTTA

HURRYYYYYYY

~ t r i p ! ~

Oh-- ...

THUD

Owowowowow… (｡>︿<｡)💧

………………

……………………………

ಠ_ಠ

You slowly look up to the enemy

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ❤️ “Guess who? ...Oh, wait, we’ve never met before.”

………………..

Crap.

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

The plan was going to be very simple: swoop in, rescue the princess, and take her back home to appease to the King and speed up the royal wedding of the century

Unfortunately, nothing was ever simple in the Fire Nation

That and, well, Minho had spies everywhere

He’d seen your photograph

He knew what you looked like

And when one of his minion’s squeaked saying they spotted a certain soon-to-be-and-technically-already-so engaged princess and coming-soon queen of the Fire Nation running around after hours with another man, well

He just couldn’t have that

It simply wasn’t allowed

The king had promised him your hand

And that’s exactly what he was going to get

“Tie her wrists tighter. Yes. Now a little closer to the left…”

He smiles at you from inside the back of the carriage. He was about to make this go his way faster than he could have hoped for.

He leans forward, now dressed in some ridiculous royal garb festive with plated armor and flapping ribbons, patting your knee with smooth-lined fingers that shouldn’t belong to someone ruling the Fire Nation. And he knows this, too. He was and still is the youngest king to ever hold the throne. “Don’t worry, Princess, I simply wish to escort you home. This is, however, a pleasant time for us to get acquainted. Since I will become your husband in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours.”

To this, the Princess of (Your Castle) makes some sort of a scoffing remark beneath her cloth-covered mouth and fidgets herself away, as far back against the plush carriage interior as she can. Even beneath the pale moonlight and faint swaying torchlight outside, bobbing in the hands of soldiers, he can see the scowl of disapproval and hatred on her face.

That would have to change real’ fast. No way he was tolerating a disobedient bride for long.

A rapping comes from outside the window. Carefully, Minho opens the small glass door, pulling the curtain aside along with it. “What is it?”

Seungmin’s face appears in the open space. “We may have a problem. Two, actually.”

“Yes, yes, what are they?”

His first attendant licks his lips nervously. “Well for starters, Jeongin is going to have a mental breakdown if Doongi scratches his face one more time. Your pets--”

“My family.”

“...Your family is getting antsy being cooped up in the carriage for so long.”

A hissing can be heard in the distance, followed by Jeongin’s muffled scream. Minho sighs.

“Fine, Fine…” He glances tentatively at his soon-to-be bride. “We’ll stop at the next fork in the road and switch passengers. I will ride with the children and Jeongin can accompany Princess Y/n until we arrive.”

“Very good, Your Majesty.”

Minho makes a face, suddenly. “...It shouldn’t be long now, yes?” ((After all, you and Chan did WALK into town.)) “What’s taking so long? How much farther?”

Seungmin looks a bit grave. “...That’s...the other thing I wished to speak to you about.”

“???”

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

You can hear the shouting from your new location inside a smaller (yet still quite plush and fancy) carriage that’s covered in cat fur...and a pitiful attendant with a bloodied face

“So we’ve been traveling in circles this whole TIME?!?!”

Oof

That kind of anger didn’t bode well for whoever’s plan this was

“Ahh…we’re so sorry, Your Majesty! But the guard won’t let us through! They refused to take us seriously when we proclaimed to be the Fire Nation escorting the Princess home…”

The Fire King let out a groan.

You zoom your attention on the boy before you, holding a dampened cloth of alcohol to his face and hissing as it makes contact with several wounds. Poor guy is young, and he couldn’t be too much younger than you. Give or take three to four years.

“M-mm-m, mm mm-mm mm m.”

He looks at you like you’re speaking in tongues. Which, quite frankly, you may as well be. “...What?”

“Mm mmm, m-mm-m, mm mm-mm mm m!”

“.........”

Peering left and then right, he makes sure both curtains are closed before leaning forward and pulling down the cloth over your face. You cough a bit, spitting out pieces of string and fabric and the dry taste in your mouth. “...”

“......” Jeongin seems to be admiring you in a new sort of light. It’s a bit weird, but flattering. “Um, what was it that you tried to say?”

You look him dead in the eye, which is somewhat hard to do, but your anger helps you manage. Jeongin winces backward, something twitching in his mind. “I said, if I were you, I would blow this joint.”

“.........” Jeongin glances down at his shoes, staring hard at the laces. He seems to be taking your words quite seriously, though you’d half meant them as a joke. “...I’m in no position to do such a thing. Just thinking about it is treason.”

“Treason? For having thoughts? You don’t have any mind readers in your country, do you?”

Slowly, he shakes his head no. It was kinda cute how seriously he was taking your words...and a bit sad, too. “No, we don’t dwell in psychics or anything supernatural. But the author of this story has been kinda thinking about making a supernatural au for some time now--”

“Huh?”

“Hmm?”

“.........”

A rapping comes at the carriage door. Jeongin acknowledges it with a nod. “...Never mind.” He opens the window. There, again, was Seungmin’s floating head alongside a ball of fire.

“His Majesty Pain-in-the-Ass is being difficult again. Imagine that. He wants us to make camp and then plans on playing the martyr card come tomorrow morning.”

“...He expects us to camp out in the woods?”

“That’s the order.”

Jeongin groans. He leans back in his seat, tossing the rag down in frustration. “...Maybe I really should consider running away…are you hiring, by chance?”

It was meant to be a joke. But you take it all too seriously.

“Why, yes, actually, I am.” :))))))))))

“....................”

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

And so that is how you have now ended up here

In front of a roaring fire

All comfy cozy in the new fleece pajamas Jeongin and Seungmin sewed for you out of one of Minho’s extra capes and some “spare” fabrics

Sipping some freshly pressed apple juice and flipping through King Minho’s edition of Royalty Daily

Seungmin, to your left, is fashioning you a new pair of slippers that you can wear both indoors and out and will feel as if you never stepped out of bed

And Jeongin, to your right, slowly moving an electric fan around your face, in a pleasant manner that wasn’t at all distracting

It was glorious, really ٩(˘◡˘)۶

You never imagined being so relaxed in an enemy camp held hostage, even if you were a Princess…

...The only thing sour was the sour look of King Minho brooding at the other side of the fire.

“What is the meaning of this?” he hisses, eyes flitting back and forth between his two former attendants and you in-between. “Why aren’t the two of you doing your normal duties?”

“We are doing our normal duties,” Seungmin explains, snipping the thread he was working with.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, we are.”

“Are you defying me right now?!”

Minnie scoffs. “Defying? You? Wouldn’t dream of it, Sire.”

“......” Minho dramatically rose from his seat, snatching a slipper off the boy’s lap. “Then what is the meaning of this,” he demands, shaking it about. You notice from a new angle of lighting the cute white polka dots patterned along dark pink fabric. Adorable. “Why are you...restyling my slippers?!”

Seungmin gives a reputable glare, snatching the slipper right back in the sassiest way possible, and dusts it carefully, as if it were tainted by the mere touch of another. “These are not for you, dear King. They are for My Lady, Princess Y/n.”

O-O

Now surely you can imagine, the look on Minho’s face is not a good one. “They’re… They… Y-Your whAT?!?!”

“SHHHHHHH!!!” Jeongin chimes. “Lord Zuko, you must keep your voice down! The Princess is trying to read, and she has sensitive hearing!” >:((

“.........”

(✿︶‿︶)

*Sluuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurp*

You sip that apple juice like it’s the sweetest tonic out there

And Minho, stunned, can only watch...until he throws down his foot and starts having an unroyaly absurd hissy fit

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOUR PRINCESS?! SHE’S MY BRIDE, AND THE HOSTAGE!!! And what do you think the two of you are doing?! What are you saying?!? Have you...are you telling me you switched sides?!?!”

“Well…”

“We aren’t telling you, we were hoping you’d get the memo by watching.”

!? “ARRRGH!!!”

._____.

The three of you watch with second-hand embarrassment, along with a couple of nearby guards, until

The King has to pause mid-fit

For a rustling in the bushes pulls his attention aside-- along with the others.

Minho seems to gain his composure surprisingly quickly. With serious glint in his eyes, he pulls his sword, in unison with the surrounding army he’d brought.

Behind you, Jeongin respectfully pulls you close, Seungmin brandishing his own blade and standing protectively before you.

You’re confused, almost, at how high the tension had magically become

You can feel Jeongin’s heartbeat against you back, and the silence amid the rustle is deafening

A single bead of sweat rolls down your neck…

And then evaporates when a field mouse screeches at the glinting of sharp metal objects and flees. 🗿💧

“Oh...false alarm…” the Fire King sighs. His army groans, reupholstering their swords and spears

And then jump in surprise at the ambush that comes after

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

I know we’re 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ flying through this story kinda fast now but just hang tight

Cause a few familiar faces had come to save the day B))

Familiar faces known as Sir Changbin, Newly-awarded Knight Jisung, and brother who loved you a little too much, Felix

The way your brother’s sword clashed with Minho’s as your new attendants hurried you into the awaiting cart was a sight to behold

And you could still hear the screams of startled men even now :(((

Luckily Felix held a philosophy unlike your father to not cause any permanent damage at all costs, so no casualties occurred; just a lot of smoke-bombing and a few cuts and bruises

Then there was Jisung, who had to hang on to the roof bc he went flying during the ambush and landed in a tree and there just wasn’t enough time to get him inside so Changbin had to snap a branch and let him fall on top...but

You know

No casualties :))))

“Are you okay?!?!” Felix is demanding, checking you face, your neck, your hands. You sigh and shake your head, which at first he takes as a no and has a small panic attack but you give him a little shove followed by a hug

“I’m fine. I’m sorry I was gone for so long...but thank you for saving me.” <3

Felix hugs you back, though a grim look resides on his face. “I’m gonna have a serious talk with Chan. I can’t believe he just left you out in the city-- or the forest-- to find your own way home in the dead of night when you’ve scarcely left the palace before!”

!!!

You jump back, startling him a bit. “Chan didn’t leave me! Please...don’t be mad at him.”

“Wha?” He lists his head. “Then what happened?”

“......” Oops. “I...I left him. I thought I could make it back on my own.”

His arms cross. “And what the heck made you think that?”

>:((((((((

At this, you almost felt a sense of defiance. Almost.

Felix didn’t think you could make it on your own?! You?!? A twenty-something year old young woman?!?!?

...Well he was right because you had absolutely no sense of direction except where the shampoo was in your royal bathroom 😔

BUT HE DIDN’T HAVE TO RUB IT IN Y’KNOW?!?!

“I--!”

“You? Yes?”

“......”

“......” Sigh. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you...but first you have to let my friends go.”

The screen pans over to Seungmin and Jeongin, tied back to back with apples shoved in their mouths. Seungmin stared a hole into Felix’s head while Jeongin was actually making some decent progress getting a bite out of the apple to free himself...until some juice went down the wrong pipe and he started choking.

“RhUK--!!!”

“Your friends?” The prince huffs. “These are the Fire Lord’s attendants. I’ve met them on two occasions in the past. Trust me, they aren’t your...friends.”

You stamp your foot, to which everyone comically flinched. Outside, Han howled at the branches slapping him in the face and the dust in his eyes. “They work for me now, and they’re my friends!!! 😤😤 So let them go right now or I’ll push them out and roll out of here right beside them!”

“!!!”

Felix couldn’t have this, so

He gets to untying, and once freed, the four of you sit on the empty cart floor: you and your attendants on one side, Felix on the other. He exchanges a few words with Changbin up front and Han still on the roof before settling down for your story

“We should be arriving to the west gates shortly. Also, Han is fine, so don’t worry about him. Tell me everything that happened.”

You do. You start from the beginning, with Chan, and the wonderful time the two of you shared. Then you tell him about the village, and how lovely window shopping was, and the moment that all came to a halt. You explain Christopher’s Garden, the aging man who sleepily walked out the front door, the exchange that occurred between him and Chan...the way they embraced. You’d felt so happy but out of place, you decided to venture off and give them the privacy they very much deserved.

Then you come around to Minho. How you’d tried to run, but only made it so far thanks to your new mortal enemy, rocks. You’d become a hostage, and you quickly rush through the rival king’s evil(?) plan to lie his way to victory.

And, of course, you mention the proud and wise decision of his most loyal and trusted adversaries switching sides and how good you are at making friends (ღ˘⌣˘)♥ so that happened

By the time you get through the whole (short? Not really) story, the six of you have arrived at (Castle’s) West Gate.

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

M E A N W H I L E

In the past tense bc the author’s random switching is a meme

A certain evil(?) king named Minho was angry

You can understand, right?

I mean, his future bride had escaped, his former friends(?) betrayed him, and he got his ass beat pretty flawlessly by some punk prince who didn’t even injure him that badly...ON PURPOSE

This was a DISASTER

A TOTAL NIGHTMARE

😭😭😭

SCREW THIS HE WAS GOING TO BE VICTORIOUS WITH CHAMPAGNE POURING OVER US AND ALL HIS FRIENDS AND HE WOULD BE GLORIOUS NO MATTER WHAT

In fact, he was following the trail with a few uninjured guards as he spoke

“Keep following the tracks,” he demanded from the window of his carriage. Doongi, Soongi, and Dori all meowed in agreement. “I want those fools hand-tied and the princess back in her station before the sun rises. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, Sir!!!” They all cried. Minho scoffed, closing the window and falling back exhaustively in his seat

He messaged his temples...since Jeongin wasn’t there to do it for him

How did this happen?

How could he lose?

How could he let you and the others just escape like that...and fall for such a subtle, dumb trick?

Also…...there was the matter of his childish behavior from before

In front of the princess, his future wife

His friends

His army

……

That really hadn’t been like him at all

He just...was so stressed lately

And exhausted

Did he mention exhausted?

What time was it, like, 1 am???

That might be fine for you, but normally this king had his ass under covers by 11 pm

He could scarcely keep his eyes open were it not for all the rocks and potholes and--

…

And the curious young man that just stumbled out into the road.

Minho leaned forward, staring through the open front window, squinting in the darkness to make out a face; was that one of the boys? Was that Seungmin, or Jeongin perhaps?

It certainly didn’t sound like it-- the sap was calling out a name, and seemed to be dressed in tattered old clothes. Probably a peasant looking for his lost sheep or dog.

But then his men pulled the carriage closer, since that previous battle had spooked all the horses away, and Minho was able to make out a name: “Y/n!!! Princess, say, “here I am!!!””

…………

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Gottem.

~ꕥꕥꕥ~

To be continued...maybe.

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

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sing-swan-spring-swan · 3 years

Text

kam & solinh, fairytale au style

hey, did i ever chuck the 13-page bullet-point-style fairytale au i wrote once on here? no? well we’re fixing that. kam, solinh, draws from various fairytale tropes but is mostly a mix of “beauty and the beast” and “sleeping beauty”. so!

the sencens live in a small rural town on the edge of a cursed wood. they're like, the town's pet nobles. sometimes they get messages from the council. the town thinks they're cool as heck, because nobles! they never get nobility all the way out here- but no one actually knows why they chose to live here.

it's because lady gisela did some Bad Stuff, actually. or she tried, and failed, but without enough evidence to prove it the council couldn't do anything, and lord cassius had enough clout to prevent her from most of the consequences but, of course, they subsequently moved because, y'know. not a good idea to be in close proximity to power structures you definitely defied.

so, keefe, cassius, and gisela live in this small rural town. keefe, despite being popular (see: nobles!) has exactly one actual friend, and her name is sophie. they are friends mainly because sophie took one look at keefe and went "you're chaotic neutral, aren't you" and keefe went "oh thank god all these people think i'm lawful good where do i get some mischief in this town"

it's not perfect. sophie hates being stuck in a little orphanage of a little town and knows she’s going to be basically nothing when she comes of age, keefe is basically stuck with his family, who exemplify a power structure he hates and can’t seem to change, but y'know, they're happy.

and then one night, when keefe is trying to turn sophie's hair purple, he sees his mother sneaking into the woods.

he leaves the hair dye and sneaks after her. in the woods, he sees lady gisela making some sort of deal with a demon- she offers it a vial of her son's blood and promises it sophie's life in exchange for power. (enough power to regain the sencens' influence and eventually take over the kingdom, with keefe as a puppet king, but keefe doesn't know that yet.)

so keefe, shocked by this, tries to run and reveals himself. lady gisela chases him and he flees, but he can't go to the town because sophie, so he's just crashing through the woods until he finds a castle, gets into it, slams the gates shut.

and then a voice behind him says "you really shouldn't have done that."

keefe screams. because it's a ghost! sort of a ghost. transparent enough to be a ghost.the ghost explains that now that he's here, he can't leave- the curse will keep him trapped. keefe's like, sure, what curse? and tries. he gets maybe three feet out before vines that definitely weren't there before crawl up from the forest and fling him bodily back into the castle.

"told you," the ghost says, then gestures to where keefe is now bleeding significantly, because thorns. "let's get those taken care of."

the ghost informs him that the castle is his to explore and that it will provide for him, but he should really never ever go up the stairs. one because those floors aren't really maintained, but two because the stairs aren't maintained either, and they'll probably collapse and kill him. keefe asks if that's how the ghost died. the ghost glares.

meanwhile- sophie hasn't seen keefe in three days. gisela says he's most likely exploring in the forest, what a shame, so dangerous, you know, but he's a hero at heart and he thinks he can save it and sophie thinks "nope, you know what, he's an idiot and i'm gonna go find that idiot"

so she goes into the forest, and she finds the castle, and she finds keefe, and keefe is like "sophie what the frick now you can't leave either"

sophie is . . . pretty chill about this, actually, because she didn't have much waiting for her in the town, but keefe is like "no this is actually a problem gisela is planning things and she's making deals and if you're here she can't fulfill them and i don't know what she's going to do, and also there are ghosts here"

"hi," says the ghost.

keefe introduces the ghost as tam and they give sophie a rundown of the curse and what's going on. tam repeats the "don't trust the stairs" thing and keefe and sophie Look at each other, because keefe is now healed enough to attempt sneakery and now they can do it together.

they wait a few days, and then they try the stairs. they go to the basement first, because the basement stairs look more solid and there are fewer of them.in the basement, they find a pool, large and wide and still. for a moment, there's no sound, and sophie begins to walk towards it.

and then a monster bursts from the surface.

"who invades this castle?" it screams, and its voice shakes the stone.

sophie, who is soaking wet and terrified, puts her hands up and tries to back away, before tam rushes up behind her.

"they're villagers! they're just villagers." he glances over at sophie and keefe. "foolish, stupid villagers who got lost and found this place. they're harmless."

tam approaches the monster and they talk, tam in a whisper, and the monster in a gravelly voice, like ocean tides, that sophie can't make words out of. the monster backs off, and tam storms towards them. he grabs them and starts dragging them towards the stairs, and then he glares until they start moving up the stairs ahead of him.

"what was that thing?" keefe asks, as they approach the ground floor.

"she," tam hisses, "is . . . the owner of this castle. she protects us."

"from what? the curse keeps you here."

no response.

". . . is she responsible for the curse? because if she is-"

"the curse protects us! from people like you! they would kill her, they killed me, and the curse keeps us safe. you were the ones stupid enough to come in!"

they walk the rest of the way in silence. when they get to the ground floor, tam says that they’ve already proven they won't listen to him if he tells them not to go to the tower, but he is asking them not to, as a basic kindness.

they don't see tam for the next few days. both keefe and sophie feel bad, but it's sophie that first decides "you know what, i'm gonna go apologize to the monster." keefe responds with "look, you're right but tam got so angry last time. maybe this is a bad idea." they think for a moment, and then sophie's like "what if we write a letter?"

the castle provides for them, at least, so finding paper and ink isn't too hard. they write a letter and decide that sophie will deliver it.

sophie goes down with the letter and is planning to just leave it there but surprise! monster, who asks her what she's holding. sophie explains about the letter, the monster asks sophie to read it to her since, you know, claws and things make paper a Challenge. sophie feels painfully awkward but she does, and the monster thanks her and apologizes in turn for her reaction when they entered. as sophie leaves. she promises they'll find a way out, and leave the two alone.

meanwhile, keefe, who is going a Little Bit Crazy here waiting for sophie, goes looking for tam. he finds tam, the two kind of- end up in a standoff for a bit, until keefe, who has no better ideas, asks if tam knows how to cook. tam does not- the castle has always provided for them. keefe takes tam into the kitchen and shows him how to make mallowmelt. neither of them are very good at it, and also tam sometimes phases through physical things, but they get a sort of mallowmelt that is a little burnt but still very sweet and very good.

tam comes in the next day and tells sophie that "she wants to see you." there's only one other being in the whole castle, so sophie and tam go down to the basement. tam lingers, before sophie says it's okay, and then he lingers a little longer until the monster gives what's probably a nod.

"i'm not going to eat you," the monster says. she very well could- those fangs are proof enough- but.

"i didn't think you were," sophie says.

the monster explains that the curse is magic, complicated, confusing magic, that even she doesn't understand, but if sophie wants to get out of it then she'll probably need what the monster knows.

sophie pauses.

"i thought you cast it," she says.

". . . yes, but i don't know how." "can it be broken?"

"you're not breaking the curse," the monster says, and there's a snarl to her voice.

"no, that's not what i meant, just- if you knew a way to break it maybe we could alter that to just- pause it temporarily? so keefe and i could leave?"

"oh. no, i don't know how to break it."

"okay," sophie says, and then she goes and gets paper and ink, and the monster tells her everything she knows.

when they're done, she looks at her pages of notes, and then she looks at the monster, but it doesn't feel right to keep calling her that.

"do you have a name?"

the monster pauses. and then she says, "linh. and you're sophie?"

"i- yes. how did you know that?"

linh gives what might be a laugh.

"you said it in your letter."

"oh. right."

"sophie. it's a pretty name."

"thank you," sophie says, and then, "so is linh."

she does that sort-of laugh thing again. "i'll see you tomorrow, sophie."

two days later, when keefe and sophie head into the kitchen, there is another plate of mallowmelt on the counter, and keefe does not know if that's the castle's doing or tam's (or if they're the same). it tastes a little weird, and keefe assumes, since tam can’t actually eat, he was guessing at the flavor, but it’s good. it feels like approval, too, which gives keefe the confidence to ask if tam knows how to make dye. he does.

they make dye. they also stain the kitchen, and keefe's hair, and for a moment keefe forgets that tam is non-corporeal and tries to put finely chopped cabbage in his hair. there's a moment of awkwardness, before keefe pouts about it not being fair and knows he's succeeded when tam laughs.

they get one of the squirrels that lives on the castle grounds and dye its fur multiple colors. the squirrel, to its credit, seems to be enjoying the whole thing.

at some point, probably late one night, tam asks where he learned to do all this, and keefe tells him that he mostly uses it to play pranks on people, back in the town.

"geez," tam says. "your parents let you get away with all that?"

"ah," keefe says, "no. they don't. they're actually, uh . . . kind of terrible."

there's a moment.

"i'm sorry."

"no, don't be. i mean, it's normal, right?"

"no," tam says, vehemently. "it's not, and it shouldn't be."

keefe looks at him. "were yours kind of terrible too?"

". . . yeah.”

"i mean. you don't have to tell me, but what happened?"

there's a pause, as tam looks at his hands.

"i'm a twin. my sister was born first, by about five minutes, so she was technically crown princess, but she had . . . magic. a lot of it."

"isn't that a good thing?"

"she wasn't- it was a lot. and they never taught her how to control it, they just expected her to, and when she couldn't, they made me the heir. and i fought it, so they fought me, and eventually they sent us . . . here."

"and then people attacked. and they killed you." keefe says, and tam nods.

"i'm . . ." keefe looks for something better and doesn't find it. "sorry."

"yeah, well. what happened to you?"

"my dad hates me, and, uh, my mom tried to feed my blood to a demon."

tam winces. "well. at least they can't get to us here?"

"yeah," keefe says, and then he tilts his head back and looks up at the ceiling. "nobility, am i right?"

"nobility," tam replies, and the air feels lighter.

so linh and sophie and tam and keefe just kinda! hang out in the castle together! and bond! and they work on fixing the curse so keefe and sophie can leave

there’s one conversation when they’re all working together where sophie brings up the concept of “true love”. It sounds silly to her, but there’s mentions in the text of it being really powerful magic.

“of course,” linh says. “all the best spells draw on love.”

“and all the worst,” tam adds.

for a moment, they just look at each other, and then linh sighs and turns back to sophie. she explains that while love is an extremely powerful magic, it is also one that tends to be uncontrollable. magic born out of love is extremely strong- it can overcome most other magical forces and constructions in the world, and there are stories about it performing what are essentially miracles- but it's not really the kind of thing where the outcome can be predicted. so, since both tam and linh are insistent that keefe and sophie not break the curse, it’s not a viable route. keefe and sophie agree, and they get back to work.

also at some point in this they start a girls vs. boys prank war and they have fun and everything is fine for a little while

but of course, you know, they keep talking, and keefe and sophie are starting to put it together. and at one point, when they're all down in the basement and it's quiet, sophie asks, "were you two siblings?"

tam and linh look at her.

"i just thought- if we want the best chance of getting keefe and i out, we need as much information as we can get. and we still don't know what happened to cause this curse."

"we haven't been snooping," keefe says, quickly. "you've just said some stuff, and we just been thinking.”

linh looks at tam. tam takes a breath. "alright. come with me."

he leads them up the tower. they climb flights of stairs, before they are stopped by a thicket of thorns.

"oh, i didn't- i don't know if you can get through."

but keefe steps up, and the thorns pull back, revealing a passage.

"well," tam says, quietly. "that's new."

the passage leads to a room. in it is a single body, resting on a dais, surrounded by thorns.

it's tam: the same clothes, same hair, same face. the only difference is the broken arrows, three of them, lodged in the body's still-breathing chest.

"this is why you can't break the curse," tam says.

"it's keeping you alive," sophie breathes.

"barely."

keefe takes a step closer to the body.

"i thought you were a ghost," he says.

"i am, really. but i'm not dead. just . . . sleeping."

they leave the room and go back down to linh, and together linh and tam explain that when they were attacked and tam was killed, linh felt it. her magic exploded and twisted around the castle, creating the thorns and the lake. it saved tam's life, but it came at the cost of her body, turning her into what she is.

sophie and keefe leave tam, who clearly needs a little space, alone with linh. the next day, keefe makes mallowmelt and presents it to tam, who, while not necessarily able to eat it, smiles at him anyway.

they keep working, but now they're looking- or at least, sophie and keefe are looking- for two things: a way to get out and a way to heal tam. it's unlikely they'll find anything linh and tam haven’t, but they still try.

but.

sophie has been missing for weeks now, and lady gisela, back in the village, still needs her and keefe. so she convinces the demon to give her enough power to find them, and she discovers the castle, and she creates a plan.

she goes to the leaders of the town, and in front of them, she starts to weep. apparently, her son has gone missing, and she knows where he's been taken- into the cursed wood, by the beast that lives in the castle. she produces a torn letter with a sketch of it, horribly monstrous, and she convinces the town to go into the woods and kill the beast.

the people of the village launch an attack, and linh and tam are unprepared and overwhelmed. they tell keefe and sophie to hide.

"what are you going to do?" sophie asks.

and linh rises out of the lake, water pouring off her in rivers.

"fight," she says.

"i'm not letting you go alone."

linh looks at her for a long, long moment, before she bends her head to sophie.

"then get on."

before keefe runs off with tam, he says, very quickly, "they're good people. not all of them. not my parents. but there are good people in the village."

linh nods, and sophie dips with the movement.

"we'll be careful. now go."

sophie and linh fight the mob, led by lord cassius. linh's strong, but in her current form her magic is weak, and there's too many of them- sophie keeps them off of linh as best she can, but they're just two people, linh hasn't fought in ages, and they're trying to pull their punches.

they hold them off for as long as they can, but it's not enough. they overwhelm linh. they pull sophie off her back, and lady gisela, who is smart, grabs her and holds a knife to her neck.

"stop," she says. "or the girl dies."

linh goes still.

"linh, no," sophie begs, but she does not move, does not look away from sophie even as lord cassius lifts his sword and stabs into the soft flesh just behind her head.

they take rope. they tie sophie to linh's body as she sobs.

"spread out. search the castle. find my son, at any cost."

"he's not yours," sophie cries, as the mob scatters.

lord cassius looks at her, once, and then he turns away.

keefe and tam, in the tower, hear the noises downstairs, the sudden silence that means nothing good.

"do you know how to use a sword?" tam asks.

keefe nods.

tam reaches into the darkness by the thorns and pulls out a sword, shadows curling off the edges. keefe stares, open-mouthed.

"my sister wasn't the only one with magic," tam says, smiling, before he glances at his body. "i think- if i do too much, it'll break this, and kill me, but i can give you this."

and just then, the thorns curl back as if burned, and lady gisela enters the room.

"keefe,” she says, reaching for him. “come back. stop this, come home with me. i did this for you, you know. i'll give you power. you'll be able to change the world. isn't that what you always wanted?"

"i don't want anything from you," he says, and swings.

keefe's good with a sword but he's never had to use it in combat before. and what's more, gisela trained him. gisela knows how he fights. and for all that he is in danger, he doesn't want to kill his mom.

the sword is helping him, pushing force behind his strikes and blocking attacks with its wisps of shadow, but it's not enough to beat gisela. he manages to fight her to a standstill, sword pressed up against her shield of flickering power, but it's taking all keefe's strength to do that.

"you'll see," gisela says, gathering power in her other hand. "i'll take you with me, and you'll do great things."

keefe shakes his head, but there's nothing he can do to stop her.

then he hears, "kiss me before i die, okay?"

and just as gisela raises her hand, the sword explodes.

when the darkness fades, lady gisela is unconscious. the only sounds in the room are that of keefe's heavy breathing, and behind him, the rattling, raspy breaths of a dying body, on the dais behind him.

keefe turns, and sees blood.

tam is back in his body. tam, who knew it would kill him, who did it anyway to keep keefe from his mother.

kiss me before i die, okay?

he wants tam to be awake for this. he wants to stumble over a confession, and he wants tam to shut him up, and he wants tam to kiss him back. but if this is all he gets, then. well. nothing’s fair. this is the least he can do.

keefe leans in.

sophie leans against linh's body. the water is cold but linh is still warm and she thinks of the last time they did this, when sophie fell asleep in the basement and linh curled around her to make her comfortable. she thinks of waking up to a smile that was all teeth and fangs and somehow, still soft and kind. she thinks of what she wanted to say, then.

"i love you," she whispers, to someone who can't hear her anymore.

and linh's body begins to glow.

up in the tower, keefe kisses tam, just once, quick and gentle. when he pulls away, tam's body is still, and keefe pretends he doesn't notice the tears that drip onto tam's face.

but then something catches the corner of his eye, and he looks up.

all around him, the thorns are blooming into dark purple roses, shining at the edges of their petals with a strange light. he looks to tam's chest, where the shafts of the arrows are growing, twisting together before they, too, burst into bloom, and dissipate into petals.

the blue glow around linh's body gets stronger, and brighter, until it hurts sophie's eyes, but she doesn't look away. around her, she hears, faintly, shouting, but it can't seem to reach her. the light twists, turns, and then the ropes go slack. in her arms is a girl, thin and pale, with waist-long black hair and torn clothes.

her eyes blink open, grey-blue. she smiles, and sophie knows her, even without the teeth.

"linh," she says.

"i heard you."

sophie reaches for her hand and laces their fingers together. linh looks at it in wonder, as if she's forgotten what it felt like, to have hands.

"ready?" sophie asks.

"always," linh says, and then, as the mob approaches, she raises her voice. "i am princess linh of exilium. this is my kingdom, and you are going to leave."

sophie calls on all linh’s shown her about magic, on the glowing thing at the center of her chest, and together, they pull.

the petals fall, gently, to tam's chest. the arrows are gone. so is the wound.

"keefe?" says a shaky, familiar voice.

he looks back. tam's eyes are open.

"you idiot," he says. "you died."

"you saved me," tam tells him, and keefe, helplessly, has no clever response to that.

"i love you," he says, instead.

"i love you too."

and then the ground beneath them starts to rumble. keefe glances around them, worried, but tam laughs, once, bright and wondering.

"that's my sister. that's linh. she's back."

the lake washes through the castle. it sweeps up the villagers, the swords, the weapons. it washes into the tower and takes the dais and lady gisela with it. keefe scoops tam into his arms and they walk down, untouched by the raging current, as tam lifts a hand and starts to pull the last of the demon’s shadows from gisela and the villagers that pass them. they twist around each other, before dissipating into nothing but harmless wisps.

sophie and linh are there, in the foyer, hands clasped at the center of it all, as the waters curl and turn around them.

"can i kiss you?" sophie says, half breathless.

and linh leans in, and in the center of a bright blue whirlpool, kisses her.

#if you read all of this i love you #thank you and i hope you enjoyed!#kotlc #kotlc au #sophie foster #linh song #keefe sencen #tam song #solinh #kam #fairytale au #this is- maybe the first au i EVER came up with for kotlc #i think i might have started posting about it a few years but it's changed substantially since then #but- it's done now. i've made it into something #proud of that #anyway hope you enjoyed!

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writing-the-end · 3 years

Text

LoL Chapter 41- The Forest of Memories

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

The Hangman’s Playground awaits.

_________________________________________

Standing before the tall, seemingly endless copse of trees, it looks like any other forest in Lairyon. It’s not quite as tall as the Evernight Forest, or bright as the Flowerfruit fields. To someone who didn’t know any better, this was a regular forest. But no one in Lairyon would dare enter this forsaken ground. Brambles grow right up to the edge of the treeline, not a single thorn cut, not a single leaf plucked. Even the most plump, ripe, delicious fruit goes unpicked among these trees.

But the leyline they stand over, five hermits wide and pulsing with Ren’s imagination magic infused and glowing, goes directly into the Forest of Memories. All three major leylines run into the forest, but Grian noticed on their way here that a fourth one also radiated out, this time in a westernly direction. Towards the Ashioll sea.

No time to explore the implications of that. Not after all the training, all the resource gathering they’ve done. No, there’s no more time to waste, no more preparing they can do. Today, no matter what happens, they will find out what Magistrate Dolios is hiding.

TFC tries to psych himself up, despite every fiber in his old bones telling him not to go in. Ever since he was a boy, almost every story he was told warned him not to enter the Hangman’s Playground. The stories never quite explain what happens within these woods, but the tales of those who dare enter only got more horrifying as he got older.

Grian, on the other hand, walks straight through the bushes and into the forest, much to the shock and horror of everyone else. He knows the stories, true and legend, he just doesn’t care. Soon after, Etho follows in, then Tango, Joe, xB, and Jevin. One by one, following after the cheerful angel, until only TFC and Mumbo are left at the forest interface. TFC places his hand on Mumbo’s back. “I wouldn’t recommend being last, with your back to the forest and all that.”

It’s enough to get him moving, running to catch up with Xisuma. The Forest of Memories swallows the hermits whole, trees letting in only dapples of light across the ground. The smattering and ever changing light plays tricks with the hermits’ heads, flashes of things that shouldn’t be here appearing in their eyes, sounds that don’t belong in a forest playing distantly with the wind.

They do their best to stay directly atop the red hued leyline of dark magic, Ren every so often recasting his spell to keep from losing the trail. They pass by a herd of goldhorns, grazing in a clearing alongside a wild herd of shleep. The night sky wool wisping into the air and playing in the distorted light. Zedaph almost runs off to join the shleep, were it not for Impulse holding him by the capelet. `Turuls and Anzus flit between full crowns of trees, the latter spitting water and breathing fire as it plays.

It was a perfectly normal forest. But between every twitter, there was a scream. Behind every dappled ray of light, there was a world long gone. The Forest of Memories is sinking it’s teeth into the hermits.

A flash of light blinds Stress, and she’s no longer in the calming, quiet forest, hiking with her fellow hermits. The sounds of birds and the breeze replaced by a low roar of voices and lush music. The snug, warm, and durable robes of her outfit is gone, rather feeling sterile, starch silk shift across her legs. She feels so exposed in the rich, beautiful dress. And when the light fades from her eyes, she’s standing in a grandiose ballroom. Her parents’ ballroom, full of people, all wearing similar dresses and suits. All wearing the same smile.

“What do you think you’re doing?” A shrill voice Stress immediately recognizes as her mother shouts. The tight bun of brown hair, the same shade as Stress’s own, leans down and hauls her skirts up. “These shoes are peasant wear! And look at your posture!”

“But mother,” Stress whimpers.

“Don’t talk back! You are a lady, act like it!”

“I don’t want to be a lady! It’s borin’, mother! I don’t want to use my magic to make swan sculptures,” She waves to the side, knowing that an ice waterfowl is just nearby. Of course she knows- this is her memories. “I wanna make something grand and beautiful! Something no one has ever made!”

The ball fades for a moment, like fog in the night, and her mother has been replaced by a different face. A face she knows, though is much, much younger. But his voice betrays the illusion. “Stress, stress! Snap out of it!”

Mumbo’s face regains his mustache, matching the grownup voice of her fellow nobleman, and something cold, smooth is pressed into her hand. The talisman fights away the illusion, until the mist has dissolved in the summer sun and her true family stands before her again. Twenty something concerned faces, BDubs and Iskall helping her stay standing. “I...I was back in Milliara, in ma family’s manor.”

Xisuma shakes his head. “You were here the whole time. It must be the forest. It’s like what Queen Erlea mentioned, the forest uses our mind against us.”

“Such a peaceful forest,” Cleo whispers. “Yet it harbors such dangerous magic.”

“It felt so real. I knew it was a memory, but in the moment….” Stress shakes her head. “In the moment, I was trapped as a lady again.”

She runs her fingers over the talisman, then pulls it over her head. With the help of her friends, her true family, she regains her step and they move forward. But every shimmer in sunlight, Stress’s fears only grow.

The forest isn’t after her. Xisuma is always the logical one. He’s deduced that the forest seems to play off people’s memories, latching onto their emotions. The ghost in Addows mentioned that she only thought happy thoughts, and the Forest didn’t have control over her. So Xisuma thinks happy thoughts as well, simple and to the point. He thinks of his fellow hermits, building his beloved tower.

He built his observation tower with Ex. And just like that, the forest has found his weak spot. He’s not standing among the trees, but rather in front of his observation tower. And only one other person was with him. Standing, hackles raised, was his brother.

Ex’s white hair was luminescent in the sunshine of the Ashioll sea, red cloak discarded and tucked beside the wall of fresh, unweathered, and unblemished stone. No burn marks from Tango or Impulse, or mismatched windows after Grian would throw a rock just a bit too large. No, there were only two people on Eremita.

Not anymore. “We can’t let any random person on our island! We hardly know anything about this poet guy, he could be working for the Council!” Ex waves his hand in the general direction, where their newcomer is tapping the end of his quill against his chin. Leaving an ink stain. “This is a place to hide, for us to be free, brother. You’re too trustworthy!”

“And you’re a coward!” X’s voice rises over his mask, forged by his brother to protect him from the sunlight. “You’ve blinded yourself with your own light, and you can’t see that we’d be stronger, safer with more. We can’t be a guild with just two brothers.”

“I never wanted to be a guild.” Ex surges till the twins are nose to nose, the supernova mage’s eyes burning with the heat of a thousand stars. Xisuma’s are as dark as night. “I just wanted somewhere for us to be free, aren’t I all you need?”

The words fall from X’s mouths, stinging as he says them this time around. He should’ve never said them, but now he’s being forced to relive this horrible moment all over again. “I don’t need you, I never needed you!”

Xisuma finds himself on the ground, his mask knocked loose. But the sunlight wasn’t the only thing burning his eyes. Blood falls across his face, perpendicular slashes oozing red ochre, and the same dripping from the end of his brother’s staff.

In his foolishness, blinded by the sunlight, by his brother, Xisuma fights back. He summons his magic, and hurls twin lashes of void at his brother. Knocking him over, grasping against the frozen burns across his own face. Xisuma stumbles to find his mask, ignoring the blood. “An eye for an eye. You aren’t my brother.”

The pain feels real, the sensation of the blood running down his face, the scent of ozone in the air feels real. But Xisuma remembers that day clearly- the worst day of his life. The day he lost his brother. And he knows he wasn’t crying.

It’s not real. Xisuma reaches up, and feels the wet stain. It doesn’t coagulate like blood, the tears that run from beneath his mask. It’s an illusion, Xisuma.

Logic is Xisuma’s strength. He wasn’t logical that day, but he is now. And he cries, for the loss of his brother, his best friend. He focuses in on those teas, something the forest can’t hide from him. He closes his eyes, feeling the guilt and sorrow. Wishing he wasn’t so cowardly to reach out and make amends.

Distantly, he feels someone touching his arm, his hand. But it doesn’t feel like his body. A cool metal band slips around a finger, and he can finally find his way out of the illusion.

When he opens his eyes, he’s in the forest again, the illusion shattering and sparkling like starlight in the sun. Like the tiny stars his brother used to make when they were boys. Xisuma jumps out of his skin when a hand lays on his arm, feeling all too real. Joe stood next to him, other hand retreating from the moodring on Xisuma’s finger. The first newcomer to the island. He offers peace, but Xisuma can’t find it within himself.

The forest is in his head, twisting his memories and reminding him of all his wrongs. Turning his mind against him. He can only focus on walking, follow the line of hermits before him. Wishing for the horrible thoughts to end. And wishing for his brother to be at his side.

Xisuma isn’t the only one who lost his family. But at least his is alive. Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango tried to steel themselves in preparation of what they knew the Forest of Memories would bring up. They thought they were prepared, able to fight off the Hangman’s Playground. Both physically and mentally. Even Zed thought he’d be able to shepherd away the intrusive thoughts.

The forest is smart, however. And it goes for him before the others. Zedaph feels the heat against his face, and closes his eyes. He will not see that night. Zedaph hears the screams, of his own guild dying around him, and he hums to himself. He will not hear that night. He tries to block it out, to block out the forest, to refuse it access into his head to hurt him further.

“Go, Zed!” The voice is so crisp, so real, it’s not just an echo of a memory. He can’t help but look up, searching for his guildleader.

And he sees scicraft burning. He watches as the fire hurls across the sky, and ash coats the massacre in a fine layer of dust. But he realizes, experiencing this night all over again, that it’s not just ash dancing in the air. Mixed with the burning embers are the fragmented pieces of husks- those attacking the guild. Husks before he even knew dark magic existed.

Zedaph collapses to his knees, alerting the other hermits to his vision. Impulse falls victim next, his face red as the sensation of burning is played through his head. As, in his illusion, he’s running through the fire. Calling out for the other guild members, even though he knows there’s no hope. He’s trapped in the past, forced to relive the day he lost his family. Until all he had left was Zed, Tango, and a memory.

Tango rushes to try and retrieve a potion, liquid happiness that was brewed to perfection by Stress. He digs his hand through the bag of supplies, until his fingers close around...fabric. Tango retreats his hand, no longer digging through his backpack, but rather digging through the ashen remains of his guild. He’s holding a torn, burnt cape, stained in blood.

In one fell swoop and one horrible shared memory, all of Team ZIT is in the clutches of the forest. It plays with their mind, their memories. Turn them on themselves, blaming themselves for the loss. Survivor’s guilt. The other hermits try to snap them out of it, placing talismans on them and forcing potions across their lips.

It’s not until Doc takes control of Zed, and uses his friend’s magic to dispel the thoughts are they able to get ZIT in any state of relief. Doc feels horrible, but it was a necessary evil. The ZIT trio hold each other close, the thoughts lingering like mist in the morning, whispers of the forest still controlling them.

Doc looks at the others, their faces worn thin. The sight of their friends, their family struggling has weakened them as well. The Forest of Memories will claim them all if they don’t hurry. Queen Erlea was right- no amount of preparation could prepare them for this. Doc nods his head at the bright red leyline. “The longer we’re in here, the more Hangman’s Playground will toy with us. Let’s keep moving.”

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astronomical-bagel · 4 years

Note

concept: darkside roman is daydreaming, lost in a fantasy world an unable to interact with the real one.

Blue I made a wholeass au in my head because of this ask I HOPE YOURE HAPPY

(Seriously tho, this wasn’t meant to be so long—it just kinda grew)

I think I’ve seen a Maladaptive Daydreaming! Roman somewhere, tho I can’t remember who made it. I think, if I made my own version of that, his theme song would be “Oh No!” by Marina (”tv taught me how to feel, now real life has no appeal”) and he would just kinda... sleep all day and stay in bed, and if anyone tried to get him out and make him do stuff, he’d snap at them and be grumpy the whole time, and sooner or later, he just locks his door so he can daydream in peace, and be stuck in his own little world.

Soon enough, his room starts changing to match what he’s dreaming about, and he can’t tell the difference between being awake or asleep or daydreaming, but he doesn’t care anymore.

The others get worried—because are those plants coming from underneath the door?— but ultimately they decide he needs space, because they don’t want him to be uncomfortable as he obviously was any time he came out. And they can’t actually open the door, and he doesn’t want them in there.... so they don’t do anything, just knocking when they think no one else is there and asking when he’s gonna come out (they expect a joke of ‘im gay’ or something, but he never replies)

And now Roman is in sort of a Sleeping Beauty situation, trapped in his own mind, not that he cares. Things are much more exciting in here, and he’s a hero, a prince! People love him in his dreams! Other times, he’s an actor in broadway, with a crowd roaring in front of him, or maybe he’s fighting a dragon, or he has fire powers!

But... the other sides are never there in his dreams, and the faces in front of him are always blurry and indistinct, and he has to fight to stay happy, because the moment you get scared or upset in a dream, you lose control, and you become trapped in a nightmare, but with no one to talk to... no family to support him... he can’t stay happy all the time!

and BAM, the moment he stops trying to smile, he’s trapped in a seemingly eternal nightmare and everything’s confusing and weird and when people hit him it actually hurts, and he’s losing battles and he’s forgetting his lines and his flames get of control and they hurt everyone, he’s hurting everyone—

And Thomas, who throughout this time has been lazier, less passionate, increasingly sleepy and keeps getting lost in his thoughts, suddenly can’t sleep at night because of nightmares, he’s stressed because of how behind he’s gotten on work, and he’s even MORE stressed because he knew he SHOULD work but he’s so tired but every time he sleeps he has a nightmare, and by now he and the sides know something is wrong, especially because the plants crawling out from Roman’s door are now gnarled and black instead of green and lush, and they have thorns now. And they’re so worried for Roman but the stupid door won’t open and so they get Remus to bash a hole into the door—the plants seem to be trying to keep them out— and when they get in their jaws just drop in pure amazement because holy SHIT there is an entire castle in Roman’s room and the thorns are so thick and there’s ominous clouds and lightning and rain coming down in sheets. The place looks like it could’ve once been beautiful, but now it looks similar to Pink Diamond’s garden after thousands and thousands of years of neglect.

And they know, by sheer nature of Roman, what they have to do—and by sheer nature of gravity, it is going to be very, very hard to do that, because of course they have to find their way through the dilapidated castle, and of course Roman is in the tallest tower. Oh, and the gigantic red dragon flitting around in the clouds isn’t really going to make things any easier.

At least there’s stairs.

But in the castle, there’s traps, too. Remus makes his way through most of them with ease, and Virgil is paranoid enough to expect any trap, but they have to stay behind for the others. They have to fight, too, like they’re in the final level of a video game. Weird beasts, bats with cat heads that breath fire (bcats? Cat bats?) and alligators with freakishly long tongues that try to wrap around you (alligatoads? Frogidiles?), and lion-bears, that even Remus has trouble defeating, and he’s the best fighter besides Roman.

They’re almost to the base of the tallest tower when the dragon above them decides to make an appearance.

She’s tall, big, and red. Like Clifford, If he had scales and claws and breathed fire. She blocks their way to the tower stairs, hissing and blowing warning fireballs in the torrents of rain.

But...she never directly attacks, only defense. She’s trying to keep them from the door.

She’s protecting Roman.

In the end, all it takes is some soft words, an entreaty—and a couple apologies for trying to hurt her— to get her to move so they can pass. Patton approves.

Past the stairs, the thorns are back, this time crawling and writhing along the ground like living beings, but instead of seeming like they attacking like the monsters in the lower castle defending like the dragon, they seem... trained towards the main room, set in an almost strategic manner, every thorn pointed inwards.

They get to the top, hacking and moving tendrils away to clear the stairs, and then, laying almost peacefully in bed... is Roman. He’s in all black, his sash pale, making Roman look ashen and grey. Thorns caress his face, and it looks like it could have once been loving, but the thorns are digging into his skin now, making bright beads of red pop up on his par skin. It almost seems like Roman’s dead, if it weren’t for the uneven rise and fall of his chest, the little whimpers escaping his mouth, the way his face twitches and twists as if he is in pain—or like he’s terrified.

When Roman wakes up, the thorns are completely cleared away from his bed, and the sides have fallen asleep around his room—some sitting on his bed, others on the armchair in the corner, Remus is just laying spread-eagle on the rug— and Roman isn’t quite sure what’s happening, only that he’s not having a nightmare anymore, and that his family is here.

And Thomas sleeps better than he has in months.

#This is like a thousand words I think #anyone can take this as a writing prompts idc #I won’t be able to write it anyways #ts Roman #Roman Sanders #Roman angst #Roman Sanders angst #maladaptive daydreaming! Roman #dark side Roman #dlampr #dlamptr #platonic dlampr #astronomical asks

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meliohy · 4 years

Text

"If things really turn out that way, I would try to bring Bam back to life no matter what.

Even if I'll have to side with the devil"

Khunbam week day 4: AU/Free day

Alternate universe where FUG succeeds in melting Bam with the thorn during the hell train arc

Khun was sitting on the floor of the hell train, unable to move. He was vaguely conscious that people were screaming around him, but he couldn’t make sense of their words. He couldn’t feel anything.

Bam was dead.

The first time Khun had heard that Bam had died, back on the floor of test, he had felt like his sun disappeared. This time, when he saw Bam fall into the boiling acid, Khun felt his whole world collapse. Losing him a second time was much worse, as he already knew what suffering was waiting for him. He had spent six years living as a ghost, an empty shell. It had been like a dream – or rather, a nightmare.

He had finally woken up. He had been reunited with Bam and was able to genuinely smile and laugh again. He would do everything to follow him and to keep his promise to bring him to the top of the tower. He couldn’t accept the idea of living without him anymore.

Khun wasn’t sure of what happened after they escaped from the boiling acid. He was vaguely conscious that someone had made him get up and walk to a room a little further in the train. When the shock dissipated a little, he saw that he was sitting in front of a cup of tea and some food. Realizing that he didn’t even know for how long he had been there made him get out of his trance. How could he completely lose control of himself even in this kind of circumstances? He got up and locked himself into a nearby bathroom, then put his head under the faucet. After Khun managed to come back to his senses, what he had to do seemed obvious. He wasn’t the kind of man to follow someone – even Bam – into death.

Khun would bring Bam back to life. Strangely, when Bam had “died” years ago, he hadn’t thought of bringing him back. It didn’t sound like a possibility.

What a joke. Khun was the man who stole from the Khun family’s treasure chest. Something being impossible wouldn’t be enough to stop him. Really, during these six years, he hadn’t been himself. Bam had brought him back to who he was. A man with a goal, who was ready to do anything to achieve it.

Bam had given him many things, including morals and friends. Khun would have to get rid of all that to achieve what he wanted. It hurt, to have to discard what Bam had given him, but he didn’t have a choice. Bringing him back to life would not be an easy road and he would have to get his hands dirtier than ever. He couldn’t bring his friends into that. And, to be honest, he didn’t want them to see him like that either. He was painfully conscious that he was now a broken man who wouldn’t be able to truly smile again before achieving his goal.

A few days later, Khun was leaving the group. He felt guilty to not offer more explanation than a short letter for Rak, but it was the best he could do now. He had made his decision.

He would bring Bam back, or die trying.

There was nothing but darkness and silence.

Bam didn’t know where he was. He might be nowhere at all, and since he couldn’t feel anything, he wondered if he even existed anymore. Didn’t someone once say “I think so I am”? His thoughts seemed too loud in the oppressing silence. He wondered if it was what death was like, a consciousness in a black void, waiting endlessly alone in the dark. If it was the case, he would rather stop existing. For him, being alone was far worse than disappearing.

He’s not sure how long he waited. Not for long, he thinks, compared to the time he spent waiting in the cave. And then, he started hearing a voice calling him. At first, he didn’t understand what it said. He only had a bad feeling that he couldn’t explain.

“… thorn …. Needle……. Grace…. Thorn!.........”

He didn’t like that voice.

“Jue Viole Grace!”

He finally heard clearly the voice calling to him. The tone made him feel uneasy, and he was tempted to just ignore it.

“ 25th Bam!”

Bam opened his eyes.

He hadn’t really meant to, acting by reflex as he heard his name – his real name. He blinked once, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. He was standing – no, not standing, floating – in front of a man in armor. The thorn fragment was floating between them and Bam could feel that they were one, much more than it ever felt when Bam possessed it.

He heard someone call the man in armor by his name – Karaka. Bam frowned. His intuition was right, this man was nothing but trouble. He remembered how he tried to kill him during the workshop battle by melting him with the thorn. An even older memory suddenly came to his mind, of the time he first met Black March. He made the connection, and the man confirmed his thoughts with a simple word:

“Ignite.”

Bam had become a real ignition weapon. He was now the spirit of the thorn. And the one who had this thorn right now was no one else than the one responsible for that. The man who had tried to kill him and his friends more than once.

The man in question repeated his command. “Ignite.”

“No.” Bam answered, and he disappeared back in the thorn.

#tower of god #khunbamweek2020 #day4 #khunbam #khun aguero agnis #25th bam #platonic!khunbam #tog spoilers #tower of god spoilers #my writing #thorn!bam #I present you my favorite AU #It's not as sad as it looks

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jinned · 4 years

Text

suds | yoongi | m

snippet: For the longest time everyone just assumed King Min was either turning a blind eye or simply didn’t realize that his beloved son was in fact a bully. To make sure his son would learn from his mistakes and to try to correct his behavior, the king convicted his son to serve three days as a slave. And that wasn’t all. The king had assigned him a guide…you.

pairing: prince yoongi x servant female reader

genre: smut, slight angst

au: royal, e2l

rating: mature/explicit

word count: 5.4k

warnings: mentions of Yoongi being mean towards the help

sexual warnings: explicit sex, fingering (female receiving), dirty talk, spanking, slight orgasm denial, unprotected sex (Yoongi pulls out but this is still not a reliable form of pregnancy prevention so please be safe), bathtub sex.

Branches cut across your cheeks as you continue to flee into the dark woods. The thundering footsteps behind you only push you onward. You can't afford to be caught by them. Not again. You push on through the thicket, hoping to lose the big oafs who couldn't be bothered to actually do their job someplace else. Thankfully, a tall tree stands strong in the middle of the thicket providing you with the perfect cover. You launch yourself into the brush and duck low, resting your back against the oak. Twigs jab you in your ribs while thorns bite at your ankles. Taking the edge of your smock shirt, you drape it over your mouth to mask your heavy breathing.

"I think we lost her," Groans one of the guards. It sounds as if he's kicking his feet through the dirt in a childlike way. Your suspicions are proven true when a cloud of dust blossoms its way towards you, finding its way into every crevice of your sleeve and into your airways.

Don't cough. Don't cough. Don't cough.

"Well...what do we do?" The other guard chimes in.

"We can't go back to the castle. King Min would have our heads! And rightfully so!"

"It's not our bloody fault his ghastly son won't stop running away the help!. Foolish boy. Doesn't even realize how good he's got it! Being able to tell all these people what to do? If it were me I'd make 'em wipe my own ass for me!"

Scowling hard, you bite your tongue to reign in your temper. These idiots don't even realize that they themselves are part of the so called 'help'. The king should make them wipe each other's asses.

It's true that you're hiding from Prince Yoongi which appears to be an unavoidable task. Just under an hour before, the king had summoned everyone in the castle for a meeting regarding his son's attitude towards the staff. Yourself and the rest of the servants were all equally shocked by the king's apology on his son's behalf. For the longest time everyone just assumed King Min was either turning a blind eye or simply didn't realize that his beloved son was in fact a bully. To make sure his son would learn from his mistakes, he was convicted to serve three days as a slave. And that wasn't all. The king had assigned him a guide.

And that's how you got here, hiding behind a tree because the first day as Prince Yoongi's teacher was enough to drive you out into the next town.

A few minutes go by and the dust cloud finally disperses and the voices of the two idiot bodyguards fades as well.

You stand up slowly, whipping your head around to make sure they weren't trying to trick you into coming out too early. They sure didn't wait around very long to see which direction you went. Letting out a sigh, you relax your shoulders and almost feel a little disappointed in the lack of the chase. If you were in their shoes though, you'd be tired of chasing you too.

You look around to try to make sense of your surroundings. You're not too far from the castle, yet far away enough to where no one else will come out looking here at this time of night

Standing up on your tippy toes, you can make out the backside of the tower you'd just escaped from. It wasn't too hard really. Tying a bunch of sheets together and propelling against the side of the castle was all it took.

The sky darkens and new animal sounds surrounds you telling you that it's time to head to the town, and fast. When night falls, who knows what kind of people will emerge with the other wildlife.

You for sure were not going to stick around to find out.

"You're not that clever you know."

You jump and let out a low gasp as a figure comes out of the thicket.

"Prince Yoongi," you groan. "How did you find me?"

"I was born in this castle, Y/N. Just like you. I know every hiding place, every nook and cranny surrounding this place was mine before it became yours. You're just now discovering how truly magical this place is." He steps forward and more into the light so you can see him clearly. Your heart feels heavy knowing that if things were different, you and the prince could have been really close friends. Something about him made you want to get to know him even at a younger age. You were drawn to him from the very start. But you can’t change the past.

"I've always known this place to be magical, prince. You just made it hell." You look at him with disgust.

He winces at your words, but readjusts himself quickly. "I knew this was going to be difficult. I just didn't expect you to be so impossible. Come on. We have a lot of work left to do so I can win back my father's approval and you can go back to doing...whatever it is you do around here." The prince holds out his hand to you, a gesture that shocks even yourself. You're not sure if you should take his hand or just walk next to him. Would it be weird if you held his hand? Would it be weirder if you didn't?

So, there the two of you stood. Yoongi's hand held out awkwardly and you scrambling to make up your mind. His calm demeanor is shockingly out of character, making you embarrassed at your failed run away attempt.

"Why do you want to hold my hand?" You ask hesitantly, your heart beating a little too excitedly for your liking.

"Oh, I don't know, just feeling sentimental I guess- no nerd,” he says sarcastically. “I'm trying to guide you out of this stupid forest so you don't trip and I have to explain to my father how I somehow managed to ruin your pretty face."

Blinking a little bit faster than humanly possible, you wordlessly accept his hand. Calling you a nerd was definitely one of his more nice nicknames for you. After he helps you step over more than a couple tree branches and around some thorn bushes, you're not sure if you should release your hand from his or continue holding it. The warmth radiating from his palm is soothing with the oncoming crisp night air, tempting you to hold on for as long as possible.

When you’ve reached the opening of the thicket near the castle doors, Yoongi immediately releases your hand from his. Your palm feels empty without his.

"Let’s get going. You’ve caused enough trouble for me, servant. And although I’m not particularly eager to sleep on those sacks of corn you servants call a bed, I’m tired and would like to get some sleep before we get up early tomorrow."

"I'm sorry," You say sincerely, surprising even yourself. Since when have you ever felt the need to apologize to this ungrateful prince? Just the day before when you tried to show him how to peel fruits and vegetables he complained that only servants should pick up a peeler. What if he were to cut his beautiful fingers? You’ve never rolled your eyes harder in your entire life.

Walking back to the castle in silence, you can't stop your brain from running a muck. How did you manage to get yourself into this situation? Out of all the servants in the castle, why did King Min pick you to be his son's chaperone? Maybe it had something to do with you and Yoongi being so close in age. Or maybe the king thought you were the only one who could get through to Yoongi and change his mindset. Who knows.

Before this moment, you never considered your life to be a hard one. In fact, dare you say, it's been pretty great. Some people might think being born into servant hood wouldn't exactly be the most glamorous of lives to be living. Sure, sometimes cleaning the kings’ "royal chambers" with your mother wasn't your favorite hobby growing up, but your parents taught you to work hard and do your best to learn from every experience thrown your way.

The prince leads you up to your bedroom, something he wouldn’t have done a week ago. Something appears to be on his mind and you’re not sure how to go about asking him if he wants to talk with you about it. Instead, you do the next best thing that you can think of.

“I hope you know...” you start off delicately. “I’m actually kind of glad the king put you with me. There’s a lot more to you than what you let people see. I don’t think you’re really a mean guy at all. And my theory is that you’re only mean to separate yourself from people further. I hope that someday soon you will be able to see that you are indeed deserving of love.”

Prince Yoongi stares at you with an open mouth as you shut the door.

The next morning you wake up thinking you had dreamt the whole scenario. Once you stand, though, the cuts from your journey in the thicket proves otherwise. You hurry and get dressed and head towards the kitchen where all the other servants meet in the morning to find out what their daily duties entail.

When you arrive, Yoongi is already standing amongst the others, his hands folded politely in front of him as he listens to Yeowae explain the new organizing system she and a few others have set up for the kitchen.

Once the little meeting is over, you walk over to the prince and ask where they’ve been assigned.

“Scrubbing the hallway floors,” he groans. “That’s going to take all day!”

You laugh and walk out of the kitchen with him and guide him down the hall into a separate room to grab pales and brushes. With the items in your possession, you walk up a few flights of stairs to get started in the main hall.

It’s been a good hour and a half of dead silence between the two of you. All that could be heard was water splashing around and bristles against the wood flooring. Until now.

“So.” Yoongi coughs and continues to scrub the floors in the great hall as he spoke. “You grew up here huh?”

Dunking your scrubber back into the soapy bucket, you resume your work after pausing to glance over at him. At first you think about keeping your answers short and undetailed. But, he’s been putting in a lot of effort into his chores and there seems to be another side of Prince Bully that you’re curious to learn about.

“Yeah. My parents were hired on when they were young adults. That’s how they met.” You smile, your face reflecting back to you in the newly scrubbed floors. “They fell in love within these dreary walls.”

Yoongi looks around the hall as if searching for the exact spot your parents fell in love. “This place truly is magical then.” He pauses and stares into his own bucket, rotating the brush within his hands in an absent minded matter.

Talking with Yoongi didn’t necessarily irritate you, despite his constant rudeness, but you did not feel inclined to make sure the conversation stays afloat. You continue to scrub the floors, moving further away from him as his pace is far slower than yours.

“What do your parents do around here?” It’s obvious he’s trying not to sound too interested. His voice cracks slightly and he does his best to avoid looking at you.

“My parents died when I was six,” you say flatly.

The sound of the bristles on Yoongi’s brush halt for a few beats before starting back up again, this time at a drawn out pace.

“I’m...I’m sorry. I can only imagine how difficult that must have been for you.”

“It still is difficult. They were the only family I’ve ever known. But I’ve found great homage here in this castle. That’s why I got so upset when you said I didn’t think it was magical.” You throw your brush back into the bucket and stand up to stretch.

“Let’s go empty these out and move on to the laundry.”

Yoongi nods and stands up, taking his pale by the handle and following you down the hall.

“I thought orphans get sent out to the street?”

You laugh at his abruptness, the surprise causing you to clutch your stomach with one arm while trying not to spill the water with the other.

"Normally when the servant parents die and leave behind a child, the child gets tossed to the streets, yes. Your father didn't do that with me and I will forever be grateful. There's not really anything I can do or say to him that would come close to how thankful I am that he chose to let me grow up here. He's a very kind man. He'd check on me often, you know? Sometimes we'd play games if he had enough time."

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed together as you talk, clearly this is the first he’s heard of this.

“My father won’t even play games with me,” he huffs.

“Well I can only imagine why!” You laugh. Yoongi looks at you quizzically so you continue. “You’re not exactly the most...easy going person here. I can only imagine how you would act if you lost a simple board game. Hell, you threw a fit when you were served lamb instead of sheep just last week!”

Splotches of red color Yoongi’s cheeks and you’re afraid you’ve made him angry. Fear grows in your stomach, wishing you would have kept your mouth shut.

“I just grew up thinking I was special, you know? That being a prince meant I could do whatever I wanted. No one ever corrected me. I didn’t exactly have a mother to train me in fine edicate as I should have been. My father expects wisdom and honor to have been born into the lineage. I apologize for my arrogance and rudeness. I know it doesn’t hold as much meaning as it should but-”

“Thank you, prince.” You cut him off and smile at him, taking his elbow into your hand and squeezing it slightly. He smiles back at you as you both round a corner. You feel your foot catch on the end of your dress right before you begin to descend the stairs to the laundry room. As if in slow motion, you feel Yoongi grab the back of your dress and yank you backwards. Your back collides with his chest, your arm flinging your bucket of dirty soap water into the air, cascading around the both of you as you fall on top of him onto the ground.

“Oh no! Prince Yoongi I’m so sorry! I should have been more aware of my surroundings!” You yell full of embarrassment. You rush to get off of him and rub your palms across his shirt front as if that will get the water out of his clothes. A twinge of regret seeps through your stomach as you realize you went into full servant mode, forgetting that you were supposed to hate the prince.

To your surprise, he laughs.

“What’s so funny?” You ask concernedly.

“I deserve this. Don’t worry. It’s not like we weren’t about to do laundry anyways!” Laughing together you help him stand back up, the uneasiness within you subsiding.

“You know, prince.” You look around and lean in, still smiling. “I think we can get away with not doing laundry today. We should both wash up before this smell really sticks to our skin.”

“Please, call me Yoongi.” He smiles. Pin pricks of warmth dance across your cheek bones as he picks up his bucket and hooks it under his arm. He reaches his hand out to you and says, “here. Let me take the supplies down for you. You go ahead with your bath.”

Your heart flutters at his kind gesture. Perhaps he’s not such a bad person after all. “Okay. When you get to the bottom of the stairs make sure you put the brushes on the left shelf so that the other servants know which ones need to be cleaned. The buckets have their own shelf in the middle.”

Yoongi nods and turns to leave you.

“Thank you...Yoongi.”

He hesitates on the steps for a second before continuing down.

You walk into your room and shut the door softly behind you. A million questions zoom about your mind but one topic remains constant. Yoongi.

You take off your shirt and pants and place them onto the bed, trying to clear your mind. You walk into the washroom and turn the dials on the tub, hoping and praying that there will be warm water today. The water runs slowly and thinly, making you groan. All you want is to be able to relax and let the bath draw out all your worries. And any thoughts of Yoongi. Heading back into the bedroom you're about to lay upon the bed to wait for the tub to fill when someone opens the door.

"Hey, Y/N, I just had a quick question-OH!"

"Yoongi!" You scream and use your hands to cover yourself. In his panic, instead exiting the room and closing the door, Yoongi closed the door and pressed his body up against it in a huddle like position, his eyes squinting shut as tightly as possible.

"Y/N I'm so sorry! I didn't know you weren't dressed! I just forgot if you said the buckets go on the left shelf or if I had even gotten to the right room because I didn’t actually see any shelves-"

He continues to ramble on and on about the many broom closets in this bloody castle. But you're not really listening. Many thoughts roam your head but one remains certain; you don't want him to leave.

You carefully detach your hands from your body so that you're fully revealed. Yoongi still has his back to you, his body trembling slightly.

"Yoongi," you whisper and move towards him. His body remains in its current position but he opens his eyes. You can see his hesitation to look at you so you reach out and gently place your hand on his arm. His body relaxes under your touch. You pull his arm towards you, making his body follow the movement until he's facing you.

Yoongi’s looking over your head and it's almost comical that the man who called you a dirty servant would be this shy to look at your naked body.

"It's okay, Yoongi." You let your words come out slowly, almost enchanting like. "You can look."

Slow moving eyes zigzag your body from left to right. His eyes linger on yours for a moment longer and you can see how dilated his pupils are. His chest puffs out with each breath, his shoulders moving dramatically along.

Letting yourself look over his body, your eyes glance down further. His pants have formed a beautiful tent showing off his arousal. You gasp with the realization that you truly want this. You truly want him.

"Yoongi?"

"Yes?" He's staring at your chest now and he might as well have drool coming out of his mouth.

"Touch me."

His eyes flicker back up to yours, shock and excitement painted in them. He looks down at his hands and then back at you, the doubt still obvious.

"Y/N. I'm so sorry. I've been so mean to you and your family. I don't deserve to even look at you the way I want to-am..the way I am looking at you right now..."

"You have proven to me many times already that you are far more than deserving to look at me. Mistake or not, you're here right now. I have a bath going. And it looks like you want me as much as I want you." You wink and walk away towards the bath, secretly hoping that he'll follow you.

The bath is running a little higher than normal, but now doesn't seem like the time to worry about things getting a little messy.

You stick one foot in and relish in the warm water. One can only imagine how this night would go with an ice cold bath. After fully submerging, you dip your head back to get your hair wet, moaning at how good the warm water feels against your scalp. Part of you is hoping Yoongi heard it.

You want to touch yourself, but deep down you know it’ll be worth the wait.

"May I join you?" Yoongi laughs awkwardly.

Bingo.

"Only on one condition." You smirk at him. He raises up an eyebrow. "You have to strip for me first."

Yoongi’s widen slightly before he takes a deep breath and starts unbuttoning his jacket. He slowly shrugs it off and drops it onto the floor. Next he untucks his shirt from his pants and yanks it over his head. His chest is not something you were expecting to get caught up on. But the curvature of his pecs leave you squirming in the bathwater. God only knows how it's going to be once you see his cock.

Without missing a beat Yoongi undoes his belt. You lean forward and rest your elbows on the edge of the bathtub. He sees you staring and smiles, his eyebrows raising up once again suggestively.

"You like what you see?" There's a low growl to his voice and it feels like your uterus is screaming out to him.

You sigh and bite your tongue sharply. "Very much."

Yoongi slides down his pants and releases his cock. His hand immediately grabs for it to release his built up tension. His head drops back as he moans and it takes everything in you to keep from touching yourself. You hate to admit it, but you could watch him do this all day. The simplistic beauty of the veins in his hands becoming more defined as he continues to pump himself is enough to make you want to orgasm right then and there.

"You better hurry up and get in here," you say on purpose, winking when he realizes the double entendre you've just said. “Before the water gets too cold and I have to get dressed to get myself warm again.”

Yoongi does not spare a single second and joins you in the bath. Water sloshes over the sides and creates a thin layer across the tile flooring. You both take a moment and look at each other and then suddenly his mouth is crashing against yours with the hunger and intensity of a man starved. His lips move and form with yours in ways you couldn't imagine to be possible. In a way, it's like you've already kissed him before. You still get the chills and butterflies of a first kiss, but the feeling of his breath as he inhales before connecting his lips back with yours is something you’ve felt before. Perhaps, in a dream long forgotten.

His hands roam from the back of your head to your cheek, then to the nape of your neck. Each feathered touch leaves little pin pricks of electricity beating like a heart on your skin. And yet none of this is the touch you truly need.

While you kiss, you guide his hands down to your chest, cupping his hands around your breasts and squeezing with him. You release his hands but he takes over and massages your breasts. He rubs his thumb across the tip of your nipple making you gasp against his mouth. That is exactly the reaction he's looking for. He continues to do it, rubbing harder and harder with each passing second. Your nails scratch against his back and you move your mouth away from him so you can catch a breath. Yoongi takes this opportunity to reach behind your back and push your chest until it's above water and attaches his mouth to one of your nipples.

"Oh my god," you moan. His hand remains firm and strong against your back and that alone has you more turned on than you've ever been in your entire life.

"Yoongi, please," you gasp as he continues to work his ministrations on your nipples.

"Use your words," he growls.

"I-I want...I need-"

"Tell me what you need, love."

"Please fuck me!"

He releases his hand from behind your back and lets you sink back into the water. He moves away from you and rests his back against the other side of the bath. Confusion and fear shout in your mind that this is all a joke and that he really hasn't changed.

“Come lay your back against my chest,” he says, his voice smoother than honey. Without questioning, you do as your told.

His chest rises and falls in a comforting pace. Yoongi’s hands travel down your body until his hands go over your hips. Finally, the rest on your thighs and it’s a miracle you’re able to sit still. If he doesn’t touch your clit soon you might pass out.

Finally, his hand moves inward toward your heat while one hand spreads your legs open further. The anticipation is making your body shake slightly, your brain has become static white noise. When his fingers finally find your sweet spot, your hips buck forward, your back pushing against his chest as your hips rise up above the water.

“Someone’s a little sensitive,” he hums. The vibrations of his voice resonates deep within your own chest making you melt more into his body as he continues to rub passionate circles around your clit. Your body falls into a comfortable state of bliss right before the coil inside your stomach starts to tighten. Right as it’s about to unfurl, Yoongi removes his hand.

Gently, Yoongi pushes you off of him and turns you so that you’re facing him once more.

He chuckles at your confusion and grasps his cock once more. "No. I think you're going to have to work a little bit harder for that orgasm. Come ride me."

Your cheeks feel warm and it's definitely not from the heat of the bath. You move to his side and your legs shake as you straddle him.

"I've never done this before," you whisper anxiously and look down at your knees. You feel comfortable with Yoongi, but you can’t stop the doubt that you won’t be good enough for him. Or that after this he’ll toss you aside and won’t want anything to do with you.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll guide you." He kisses the spot under your chin and lowers you down until you feel the tip of his cock touch the lips of your vagina. You instinctively clench in anticipation.

"Slowly," he murmurs assuredly and lowers you down further onto him. You moan as the head of his cock goes inside you. That's when you can't wait any longer and let yourself sink lower onto him until he's fully inside of you.

"Oh, fuck," he moans and begins to guide your hips up and down. You grip the ends of the tub and move your hips front and back as he moves you up and down, both of you getting into a delicious rhythm. Once he realizes you've taken control, he moves his hands up to grasp the back of your neck, holding you in one place as he pistons himself in and out of you in a faster rate.

"This feels good, but," he grunts and gently pushes you off of him. "It could definitely feel better." He stands up and steps out of the bathtub and holds his hand out to you. Noticing the scared look in your eyes he grabs your hand and helps guide you out of the bath. "I didn't mean it like that! I just meant I would love to be able to feel my cock inside your pussy and I think we can get more friction outside of the water."

You're speechless as you follow him to your bed, your bodies both dripping with water, leaving little traces of dew drops behind you.

Yoongi grabs your shoulders and pushes you onto the bed then promptly grabs your legs and wraps them around his waist, leaving half of your body suspended off the bed.

"God I can't go any longer without being inside of you." He lifts one of your legs and rests your foot on his shoulder before pushing his cock back into you. He was right. The friction adds a deeper sensation that makes you want to scream his name with pleasure.

Thrusting deep and strong, his hips move in powerful patterns. He reaches out and grabs at your nipples, gripping them tightly and keeping your breasts from bouncing around.

Water sprinkles off of Yoongi's body and splashes onto yours, the water, having gone cold, gives you a jolt as it hits your body.

That slow burning sensation starts to prick deep within you once again. With your heart racing at a speed that puts even the fastest of knights to shame, words become jumbled in your brain. Pleasure is all that you know in this moment.

Yoongi flips you around and pushes your head further into the mattress and moves your hips up so he can get a better view of you.

"Now this is more like it," he groans and smacks your ass hard. You yelp as he spanks you a second time, the burning sensation complementing the coldness from the bath water.

He slaps your ass one more time and almost immediately after the contact hits he inserts himself back into you, causing you to yelp in surprise. The feeling of his cock is almost too good to be true.

Your eyes begin to blur with sweat and bath water dripping down your face. Reaching your hand up to wipe at your eyes, Yoongi seizes the chance and grabs you by your wrist before you're able to do so.

"Don't wipe it away. I like seeing you messy. You're taking my cock so well." He releases your hand and grabs at your waist, his fingers digging deliciously into your skin.

Suddenly, Yoongi adjusts his weight. The slight movement causes his cock to hit you right in your sweet spots, getting you closer to your orgasm.

"Oh, fuck. Yes, Yoongi right there!" You moan out. He grunts his response and picks up the speed. Your eyes begin to flutter, a warm sensation builds in your stomach, and you just can't take it anymore.

Your release is long and sweet as he continues to thrust in and out of you, searching for his own relief. The over stimulation is starting to get to you when he finally pulls out and pumps warm cum onto your back. Your legs shake as you wait for him to retrieve a cloth from the washroom.

Instead of returning, you hear him start the bath water once again.

He comes into the room and delicately wipes a warm cloth across your back, cleaning up the mess he made. The water continues to run.

Before you can ask, he says, "I'm running you another bath, a real bath. I figured it would be a nice way to relax." Yoongi helps you stand up and leads you into the washroom.

As you lay in the warm water, Yoongi sits on the outside, his arms draped over the side of the tub. His fingers dance around in the water, creating soothing splish splashing sounds.

"I'm sorry," whispers Yoongi.

You sit up in the tub and look down at him. You take a strand of his hair and curl it between your fingers, taking in the way the light from the window is accenting his the tip of his nose. He leans into your hand as you cup his cheek. Yoongi sighs and looks up at you.

"I appreciate your sincerity," you murmur. "But you must forgive yourself."

"How can I forgive myself? I was so cruel to you and to everyone else around me. If only I had known how much you would mean to me. If only I had known how much I care about you..."

Smiling at him, you lean down and kiss the top of his forehead, water splashing around you.

"Promise me something," he whispers it as if to make sure no one can hear. As if this was a special secret between the two of you.

"Anything."

"That you'll stay with me."

"Always."

𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓉𝓈 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓈𝒶𝓉𝓊𝓇𝒹𝒶𝓎!

𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

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widowsofchaos · 4 years

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Kool Aid (Teaser)

Summary: Raise a glass for all your fucked up friends. After a near-fatal night of drug binging, the group disbanded for a while to get sober, and mentally healthy; but it also resulted in you breaking up with your boyfriend and girlfriend. The journey of recovery was rocky. Now after a year and a half, the group of friends reunite at a party, will the band of misfits stick together or go their separate ways? Will you get your two loves back or will you have to move on?

Pairing: Winterwitch x black!reader

Modern AU

Warnings: drug abuse, vulgarity, mentions of domestic abuse, childhood abuse, mentions of mental health. Mention of abortion. smut, angst, and fluff!

DO NOT REPOST MY WORKS! I WILL REPORT YOU.

“You know Bean would have been two today.” Bucky hanged his head, huffing out a breathy chuckle. A few loose strands gingerly dangle, and you had to bite back the itching urge to caress it behind his ear. Your palm shrouding behind your thigh, curling into a tight fist, fingernails tearing into the flesh; crescent craters forming.

Pain is your comfort, you pray for a dark hole to emerge underneath the soles of your feet, and swallow you whole. Hide away in pitch blackness, as your demons’ horse whips dominion onto your chipped soul. Don’t let these two crawl back into your shattered chest, and make a thorn-infested nest in your heart.

Not again.

You’re a nobody, your value is worth a bucket of piss. Your role in their relationship was a erotic tryst, a bored couple seeking a warm body to use, to fulfill - what exactly? To relish in taboo thrills?

Slithering into your life, a child deprived of affection, seeks for it blindly to satiate the loneliness. It was magical at first, double the love. Worshiping at their feet, praises leave your lips, that finally you were deemed worthy for love. But at what cost? The wool isn’t drenched in your tears, but in your blood. You’ve gauged your eyes out in denial from the truth, not only did your demons win, but so did theirs.

“My silly little girl” your mother’s condescending drunken slurs echo in your brain. When it was over, a piece of you was abandoned with them. Withered and died like weeds splashed in pesticide, it’s taken you a lifetime to gain a glimmer of feeling human. Perhaps resuscitate the little girl who bathed in innocence, or maybe it’s too late?

A tight smile curls at the corner of your mouth, you bobble a bit as you lean forward, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Acidic bile bubbles at the back of your esophagus, at the dejected memory, you dryly swallow the lump forming in your throat, “Yeah … two years and three months old to be exact”, trapping your quivering bottom lip between your teeth, shifting back into a rigid faux smile.

God, has it been that long?

“Do you regret it?” Bucky murmured, lifting his gaze to you, and his breath hitches. Before his eyes, is his girl, Wanda’s girl, fighting back her emotions. Bucky can read you like an open-book, a transparent display. He knows you’re hurting, even after a year, that Wanda and himself caused, succumbing to their insecurities, and lashing out at the one being who loved them with every fiber, and sinew.

He loathes that you’re harboring your woes, begging to lash out at him, and Wanda. For pushing you away, when you needed them the most. Bucky yearns for you to snarl at him, scream at him, hurl insults at him, call him a cowardly piece of shit. Call Wanda a bitch, anything for you to release yourself. Hyper-aware of your history to bury all your sorrow, and pretend nothing is wrong. You either write your grief through ink, or wrap it up in soil cloth, and bury it deep in your rotted cavity - and find your salvation at the bottom of the bottle.

“No. Do you?” you mumbled, casting your eyes away from Bucky’s intense gaze. You missed his faltered curt smile, transitioning into a frown, his cerulean eyes watering, you can’t even look him in the eye. Please doll, look at me. See I never stopped loving you.

“No. It was for the best” Bucky hedges, “we’re fucked up, we could never do right by it.”

A soft snort escapes you, “I know, who would want two drunks for mothers?” Your body loosens a bit, a quick glance in his eyes. A beat of silence, Bucky knew you were attempting to lighten the awkward atmosphere, through your traditional route of dark humor.

“Or a coked out hot-tempered father?” Bucky sheepishly smiled at you, rubbing the nape of his neck, despite his shy smile, you knew what Bucky was hinting at, acknowledging his fault, the very flaw that casted you out from their lives.

“Thank you for being there for me at the time. You and Wanda weren’t olibgate-” Bucky interrupted your babble, “Hey, we wanted it to be there, it took three to tango, remember?” Bucky’s heart aches, how could you think we wouldn’t want to be there. We love you, oh God, we love you.

“I know, it’s just …”, You shift your head to the side, your shoulder moves in natural reflex, gesturing your modesty.

“I know, it’s okay.” Bucky whispered, unconsciously treading small steps towards you, towering over you. A timid smile forms, and Bucky’s heart flutters. God, how Wanda and himself gush over your smile, dying to crawl through, and just live inside you. The shining star in their darkness.

Bucky internally winces, You have no idea, how you changed us, doll.

“Bean, fitting for when we last saw it…” Your chest fluttered, those saccharine bits of staring at the ultrasound flashed before you, you sniffed back a sob. It’s bittersweet - a dash of sour on what couldn’t be, a tang of citrus sweet to see what you had, a fleeting possibility. Become a mother? No, you had to learn to be a daughter. But even you fail at that.

“Yeah, I remember the ultrasound, God, it was so weird. How a being can start off so small, yet can grow so big.” Bucky mused, misty-eyed. Bucky shuffled, attempting to disguise his dismay at the lingering what if?

“I think back on that day a lot …” Bucky continued, “ I like to imagine if we kept it … would it be a boy or a girl? Would it come out looking like me or like you?” Bucky instinctively linked his fingers into yours, and without a doubt, felt the familiar sparks zap into your core.

“I would like to be a dad, especially for a girl. Girls rule the world, can teach her lessons on life …” Bucky’s eyes frayed desperation, longingly into yours dark hues.

“You would make a great parents” Not us, you. A silent indirect of you pushing them away, no purpose in their plans for the future. How you yearn, but the past can not be dug up, let the cadaver rot. And pray flowers can bloom within the decay, hope. Hope for Wanda, and Bucky to be happy at last, and hope you can bare to live without them.

#buckybarnesplumwhore wrote this #winterwitch x reader #bucky barnes x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #winterwitch x black!reader #bucky barnes x black!reader #wanda maximoff x black!reader #marvel fanfic

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amintyworld · 4 years

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Overgrowth - Miracle Miraculous AU

A/N: HERE IT IS!!! I’ve been working on this for a while, and I can’t wait to share it with you all. Combining two of my favorite fandoms - It’s been honestly such a passion project, and I’m so happy with how it turned out. Note that Ladybug is Luckybug in this universe. - Minty

Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day in Paris, and it turns into more of a Valentine’s mess than anyone expected. When a confession goes wrong, Thomas turns into Overgrowth, bent on getting revenge for his heartbreak by taking away everything the people of Paris love, and teaching the heartbreaker a lesson he’ll never forget.

Ships: Prinxiety, Logicality, Thomas x Samuel.

TW: Homophobia, pain, anxiety/panic, heartbreak, self-blame, implied mention of murder, cursing. (I think that’s everything, tell me if I missed any, as always!)

Roman Agreste slumped on his bed after he swiftly closed his door to his massive bedroom. Today was Valentine’s Day, and he couldn’t stop thinking of his Prince - Luckybug. God, he was so smart and so beautiful. He’d had fun at school, of course - Chloe had crooned over him, giving him gifts and presents throughout the day, and kissing his cheek obsessively. His friend, Logan, had finally pulled her away from him, the only one who really knew who he really was.

Like anyone would accept that the son of Gabriel Agreste, the world-famous fashion designer, was gay.

Just today, Logan had pinched him when he almost slipped how he was into guys as he was talking to his friends about his crushes. Without him, he probably would have revealed his secret by accident long ago.

But, his best friend didn’t exactly know all his secrets.

He sighed, groaning into his pillow, as his kwami, Plagg, flew out from the hiding place in his school bag. “Kid, you really need to be more honest with yourself.” He said, gnawing on a piece of his treasured camembert.

Roman groaned in his pillow in response, looking at his college of Luckybug in his pinboard next to his computer. He was so perfect - rugged purple locks, and focused determined green eyes…

No picture could capture the way the wind ruffled through his hair just perfectly, or the way the city lights made his green eyes sparkle like emeralds. He huffed in disapproval as he walked over to his television. His mind was filled to the brim with his Prince, and it was overwhelming.

He needed a distraction.

He flipped on the TV as Plagg perched himself on the top of the couch, looking at his dejected master and giving a sigh. “Hang in there, Kid.”

————————————————-

Virgil’s ears filled with My Chemical Romance as he sewed, focused on his task - Mr. Agreste had commissioned him to make Roman’s frivolous costumes for his performances. He had told him that the hat he made, the winner of his contest earlier in the year, was more of his son’s style. He couldn’t be bothered with making any designs that weren’t being professionally modeled and gave the job to Virgil instead.

He insisted Roman’s performances were more of a hobby. Virgil was just happy to help his crush, and the smiles brought to Roman’s face was really all the payment he needed.

Roman’s theatre group was performing Romeo and Juliet this weekend and needed the costumes soon for the dress rehearsal on Friday. Virgil was nearly finished - he just needed to add the details on the two main pieces.

He sighed as he sat up and walked to grab more thread and pins, looking over toward the dejected cookie tin on his desk. His best friend Patton had pushed him to make the heart-shaped treats days earlier - Virgil had made sure that they were chocolate chips with no nuts, as Roman had a nut allergy. Patton had even brought the tin just for the occasion.

But, when he was at school…

“Oh my god, look at this Sabrina!” Chloe yelled as Virgil quickly hid the cookie tin behind his back. “Virgil Dupain-Cheng, with sweets for Valentine’s Day for my Romiekins!”

A small crowd began to gather behind Chloe, Roman well out of earshot. Patton stepped in between the two, angry. “Back off, Chloe.”

“What, Patton? I just think it’s cute. Adorable, really.” Chloe had a glint of evil in her eyes as she smiled. “I mean, it’s just so clear that Roman isn’t gay, but I guess that doesn’t mean his fans aren’t!”

Chloe and Sabrina laughed, as the crowd all looked to Virgil, as he kept walking backward with the tin behind his back, his face red in embarrassment as he just looked to the floor. Usually, Chloe’s insults never really got him this deep, but… this one hurt, mostly because it’s always been one of Virgil’s insecurities - his sexuality.

Patton had tried to talk him into giving Roman the treats, but he just couldn’t. He’d just went home without another word.

Virgil’s kwami, Tikki, had noticed her master’s solemn expression and flew to his side. “Cheer up, Virgil. I’m sure Roman would have enjoyed the cookies!”

Virgil sighed. “It’s not that Tikki, I know he would’ve enjoyed them. I just-” He looked over to the tin. “I don’t know if he would have enjoyed that they were made… by me.”

“Virgil, any guy who enjoys the gifts and not the people behind them are not worth your time,” Tikki said, flying closer to her master’s face. “Even Roman.”

“Roman…” Virgil breathed, looking down at the white thread and small box of pins in his hand. Roman who had given him an umbrella in the soaking rain. Roman, who had always told him his designs were amazing. Roman, who was smart and kind to everyone.

Roman Agreste.

Somehow, Virgil knew in his heart that even if he didn’t feel the same, he’d never stop loving him. Even if… that meant he was out of the picture.

——————————————

Thomas sighed as he tried to take deep breaths, his face flushed, as he walked toward his crush, who he’d asked to meet at the bridge. Samuel was one of his best friends in the entire world, and Thomas had been crushing on him since grade school. Joan had told him to go for it today, giving him a much-needed boost of confidence to finally go through with it.

He hid the bouquet of roses behind his back as he tapped his friend’s shoulder. “Hey, Samuel?”

“Thomas, it’s so great to see you!” Samuel hugged Thomas tightly, his smile bright. “Thanks so much for inviting me to hang out, I really needed your advice.”

“R-really?” Thomas almost squeaked, his face getting redder by the minute. He clenched the bundle of roses tighter behind his back.

“Yeah. You’re a really good friend, and I’d trust you with anything…”

“Of course, what did you… Ehem, need advice on?” Thomas said, trying to keep calm.

“Well you see, there’s a girl, and-”

Thomas’s grip on the roses tightened. “I…I’m s-sorry, what…?”

“There’s a girl I’ve been dying to ask out, and I don’t really know how to ask, and I figured since you hang around the girls a lot, you might be able to give me a few-”

“Sam, I… I like you.”

Now it was his friend’s turn to be surprised. “What?”

Thomas pulled the bundle of roses from behind his back, turning to his crush. “Samuel, I really, really, really like you. I’ve liked you since forever, and I never really found the right time to tell you, and-”

Samuel’s mouth was agape, and he just looked from the roses to Thomas. “T-Thomas?” He said, beginning to step away. “Thomas, I… I’m sorry, but… but I-”

Oh.

Thomas could feel his heart breaking inside his chest, but he tried to stay strong.

“No, no it’s fine.” A tear streaked down Thomas’s cheek as he gave his friend a pained smile. “It’s fine, Samuel.” Another tear, and another. He looked up to see his friend’s face lined with pity, and he couldn’t take it anymore. “Excuse me, I just… need a minute-”

One moment he was walking, the next running. Running somewhere he didn’t know as his eyes were blurred with tears.

A poor tortured soul who wanted nothing but to tell the one he loved his feelings and was met with utter heartbreak. Love is not always so easy, I’m afraid…

Fly away, my little akuma, and ease his broken heart!

As the black butterfly flew into one of the roses, Thomas’s eyes were lit up with a butterfly screen. Up in his tower, Hawkmoth smiled. “Overgrowth, my name is Hawkmoth. I’m giving you the power to bend all plant life to your will and make sure the ones who have wronged you pay the price. In return, you must give me Luckybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous.” The villain smirked. “Do we have a deal?”

Thomas dried his tears as he smirked. “If I can’t love, no one will.”

—————————————

“Ughhh!” Plagg groaned. “Can’t we watch the cooking channel?! These dramas are so boring!”

Roman sighed as he switched through a few different channels, his head snapping to attention when he flipped on the News.

“-local police are baffled today as plant life all around Paris has begun to move on its own, we’re going live on the scene with-!”

The camera suddenly is grabbed and pulled upward, revealing a familiar face to Roman as he quickly stood up from the couch. “Wait… is that Thomas?”

Thomas’s eyes were pitch black as vines and roses wrapped around his body with pitch black thorns. Roman was confused - Thomas was one of the sweetest guys he knew, there was no way he would get akumatized.

Thomas grinned into the camera as Roman could hear people crying out below. “People of Paris, I am Overgrowth. Within the next five hours, your city will belong to me, and me alone, unless your heroes can somehow magically save you, everything you love, everyone you love - will be mine.”

The feed had stopped abruptly, leaving the newswoman in a bit of a shock. She cleared her throat. “It seems as a new supervillain, Overgrowth, has taken over the city! Hopefully Chat Noir and Luckybug will be here to save us from doom!”

Roman sighed sadly. Poor Thomas. Something must’ve messed him up pretty bad to make him like this. “Plagg, we need to go. Thomas needs me.”

“Why do we always have akumas to fight when I’m enjoying my sweet camembert?” Plagg questioned, swallowing it whole. Roman laughed, smiling, before turning to the door. Plagg always knew how to make him feel better, even if for a few, brief, moments.

“Let’s go. Plagg, claws out!”

——————————

Virgil’s seen many weird things in his life - ice cream akumas, baby akumas, you name it. But, he’s never seen anything this weird.

One moment, he was adding the finishing touches on the costume dress, the next - there’s a giant leaf in his face. “Huh? What the-?”

He pulled off his headphones, leaving the dress on his bed as he walked outside to the balcony, following the trail of vine with black thorns. Virgil’s eyes widened as he noticed the thorns in every house and apartment, wrapping around pipes, inside windows and chimneys - all with those signature black thorns. “Woah.”

His pocket vibrated as he answered the call, turning back inside to find Tikki - he knew it had to be an akuma. Chat could only do so much on his own - he needed to move. “Virgil, thank god you picked up, I’ve been trying your cell for hours!”

“Patton, I- I’m sorry. My phone was on silent. What’s going on?” He began to search around his room, no Tikki in sight. That was strange. Wait… another vine, leading towards the ladder…

“There’s another supervillain, Virge! He’s controlling all the plants somehow. This is finally my chance, the chance I’ve been waiting for!”

“Chance?”

“Luckybug and Chat Noir are going to show up - Prime material for the Luckyblog!” Patton said. “Maybe I’ll even catch an interview with them, the villain’s heading downtown after all.”

Virgil froze in his tracks, Patton’s squeals of delight on the other line echoing in the back of his head. The vine with the black thorns had grabbed Tikki, coiling around her like a snake. She looked weak, and in pain.

“V-virgil…”

No. This wasn’t like any other akuma Virgil has ever faced. Patton can NOT go near it. The thought of his best friend, wrapped in the coils, being stabbed by the thorns…

“Vir-gil… help…”

He spoke softly and firmly. “Patton, you need to find somewhere to hide.”

“What? Come on, Virge-!”

“Patton. Please. Just… stay away from the vines, promise me.”

“Vir-”

“Promise me!” Virgil snapped, grabbing the scissors from his room to use to cut the vine. Patton sounded concerned as he began to cut, freeing Tikki as she fell into his palm, weakened.

“Virgil, are you alright, kiddo? You sound a bit panicky, is everything okay?” Patton’s voice was filled with warmth. “I… I can come over, if-”

“No, no I promise I’m fine, I just-” Virgil said, taking a deep breath. “Just stay away from the vines, okay? They… they’re unsafe.” He quickly hung up, worried more so focused on the small fragile kwami in his palm, and what exactly happened to her.

“Tikki! Tikki, are you alright?” Virgil said. The kwami coughed in response, flying a bit.

“I’m fine, I just need a little water.”

Virgil poured a small cup into the cap of his thermos for Tikki to drink, and Tikki took a few gulps and a cookie. “What exactly happened?”

“The thorns are filled with dark energy - pure negative energy, I’ve never seen anything like it.” Tikki said as she chewed. “We kawmis are made of pure positive energy, I guess it just deflated me a little bit there.”

“Thank goodness. I wouldn’t know what I’d do with you, Tikki.” Virgil said, as the small kwami had given him a small hug.

"We need to be careful, Virgil.” Tikki said. “This akuma might be the strongest one we’ve faced.”

Virgil gave a smile. “When am I not careful?”

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The ground shook with each step as Virgil saw someone, two thick thorny vines sprouting from their back, the vines plunging into the ground like legs as the akumatized person ran past Virgil’s house. Virgil smiled. “Look at that, Tikki. They lead themselves straight to us.” Virgil flicked his hair back to reveal his earrings. “Tikki, spots on!”

———————–

“Get off me you alley cat!” Overgrowth growled as Chat Noir’s claws dug deep into the thick vine on his back as Overgrowth thrashed this way and that, trying desperately to get cat-free.

“I don’t think so-!” Chat Noir said. “Now, would you kindly show me where your akuma is, so we can get this over with quickly?”

Overgrowth held out his open hand, summoning a black rose. “Get.. OFF!” He yelled, throwing it back in Chat’s face, sending him flying toward the ground, as his costume flicked off and on for a quick second.

“Huh?!” Chat asked, confused. Nothing like this has ever happened before. Was something wrong with his miraculous? His kawami? His ears were ringing and his head hurt. He couldn’t move.

Overgrowth looked more than annoyed at this development. “One wasn’t enough for you?” He said, summoning a few more black rose darts, making the rose vines wrapped around his body glow slightly. “How about a few more?!” He yelled, throwing a barrage toward a helpless Chat.

Luckybug quickly jumped in front, swinging his yo-yo, blocking the attacks. “Not today, no thank you!”

“My prince, you finally joined the party!” Chat Noir said, getting up and readying his silver pole as Overgrowth moved to the side to try to attack the two superheroes. Chat began to spin the pole quickly, blocking the attacks with ease, smiling.

“As if I’d let you have all the fun, Kitty.” Luckybug smiled. “Any idea where the akuma might be?”

“Checked everywhere. I have no clue.”

“Dammit. For once, I’d thought we’d have it easy.” Luckybug huffed.

Overgrowth growled in defeat. “No need for you two, anyway. I have someone I’m dying to go meet up with…you two have fun.”

“Wait-!” Luckybug yelled, but he was already gone. “Dammit.”

“So, any idea where Poison Ivy might’ve gone?” Chat asked. “I can’t imagine there’s much wildlife in Paris, and I doubt Scarezilla wants to go to the Zoo.”

“Luckybug! Chat Noir!"

The two heroes turned their attention to a teenager with an orange beanie running toward them, waving their arms like crazy - Joan, one of Thomas’s best friends. "You- You gotta help Thomas! He’s a twat sometimes but he’s not a supervillain. You gotta get him back!”

“We will. We promise.” Luckybug said, placing his hand on Joan’s shoulder to steady them. “Do you know where he might’ve gone?”

“If he’s mad right now, he’s probably heading to Samuel’s house.” Joan said. The two heroes shared a glance.

“Samuel?” Chat asked.

“Yeah, Thomas has had a crush on him since forever. He rejected him when I told him to go for it, he’s akumatized because of me, you gotta help him-”

“We promise we will. Thank you so much for the help.” Luckybug turned to Chat. “Come on, we gotta go-” Luckybug used his yo-yo to jump from building to building, leaving only Chat behind.

Chat turned to the kid. “This isn’t your fault, I promise. If anything, it’s Hawkmoths. Go find a place to hide, we’ll get your friend back soon.” He turned, using his pole to propel him into the air, catching up with his prince.

Talyn rushed over to Joan. “Don’t run off like that again, Joan! You made me worried!”

“Talyn, Thomas is akumatized and it’s all my fault, I need to fix this! If I hadn’t told him-” Joan said, clenching their fists at their sides. Talyn interrupted quickly.

“Joan, you can’t blame yourself, you didn’t make him like this!” They said. “Come on, we need to stay with the others, we’ll be safe-” Talyn slowly reached for Joan’s arm, but they jerked away. “Joan…?”

“I need to fix this, Talyn.” Joan said. “He’s my best friend."

"Joan, what are you…?”

“I’m sorry, Talyn!” Joan said, sprinting over to Talyn’s scooter and chasing after the heroes.

“Mother-!” Talyn sighed frustratingly as they began to run after him.

———————–

“Patton, you need to be careful!” Logan called out to the blogger recording the two heroes flying away. “You could get hit.”

“Logan, please. I can take care of myself.” Patton said. “Luckybug and Chat Noir do so much for us - If I figure out their identities, think of what we could do to help! We could all takedown Hawkmoth together.”

“There has to be a good reason they’re secret, Patton,” Logan said, adjusting his glasses. “Don’t you think they might know what’s best for this one? They are the professionals, after all.”

Patton seemed too focused to listen as the two ran in the direction of the heroes. “This way, come on!”

As the pair began running, a huge vine with blackthorns grew quickly in front of them. “Patton, watch out!”

It seemed in almost slow motion. Patton had turned back, confused - when he tripped, falling, the thorns going in towards his back, making Patton fall to the ground with a cry of pain. Logan rushed over as Patton’s feet slowly began to turn purplish black. “Patton, I told you to be careful!” Logan lectured. “We should’ve stayed with the others-”

Logan didn’t need to be an expert to recognize the pain on Patton’s face as he tried to stand, his legs shaking, the phone he was holding colliding to the ground with a smash. “We- we gotta follow them-!”

Patton fell forward, Logan moving to catch him. “No, you’re not. You’re in no condition to travel.” He sat down on the curb, Patton in his arms. He didn’t know what to do, and his heart clenched uncomfortably at the sight. “Are you alright?”

Patton gripped Logan’s arm as the darkness slowly moved up his legs. “L-logan… it hurts…”

“P-patton, I…” Logan’s mind was frazzled. In all his medical training, he had no idea how to handle this. They hadn’t prepared him for this - he usually always knew what to do. “Just… just hang on-”

Patton suddenly slumped over in Logan’s lap as Logan began to search in his emergency supplies for something, anything. His mind was so incredibly scrambled that he didn’t even notice at first. The darkness was at his stomach now.

“Patton don’t worry, everything’s going to be just-” Logan felt his heart drop when he realized Patton’s unconsciousness. “Patton… Patton, wake up, please-”

————————

“Oh Samuel, my sweet!” Overgrowth called all too innocently. “Come out, my love! I just want to… talk.”

Overgrowth, why did you abandon the miraculouses? Did you forget our deal?!

“Relax, Hawkmoth. If I grab Samuel, they’ll have to exchange his life for their miraculous.”

Such a cunning plan. Very well, grab the boy and be done with it!

Samuel shook in his broom closet, hearing the villain upstairs, his hands over his mouth as he tried not to whimper. He kept trying to remind himself that it wasn’t Thomas, and resist the urge to run out of his hiding place and apologize profusely to his friend.

He didn’t mean to hurt him - it was just so much of a surprise, he didn’t know what to say. Samuel sighed. That was the problem - he didn’t say anything. He should’ve said something, something to let him know they were still friends, that it was okay, that he didn’t need to be embarrassed…

…that he had thought about it too.

“Sammy! Come out, come out! I have something I want to tell you, sweetie!” Overgrowth called. A sudden slam upstairs nearly made Samuel jump. “I said… COME OUT!”

“Yeah, that’s not gonna happen. Sorry to burst your bubble, Overgrowth.” Luckybug said, tying his hands behind his back with ease with their yo-yo. As he held him down, he nodded to Chat, who walked over, searching for the akuma. He saw the roses glow slightly as he approached, and his eyes widened. Overgrowth quickly shook off the yo-yo, pushing both of them back and pinning them against the wall, nearly squishing them.

“My Prince- Argh!” Chat Noir winced at the pain. Luckybug breathed heavily, his vision going blurry.

“C-chat…ugh…”

“My Prince, no!” Chat tried to quickly maneuver the silver pole, his prince was about to pass out! He extended the pole, hitting Overgrowth in the face, as he released his grab on the heroes.

Joan ascended the stairs quietly, hearing a battle on the top floor they really didn’t want to get in the middle of at the moment. If they could just get Samuel out of here -

“Samuel?” They whispered harshly. “You in here?”

“J-joan…?” Samuel said, his voice shaking. They opened the closet quietly, as they both crept downstairs. Once out of earshot, the two finally had a moment to breathe. “Joan, thank you so much, I-!”

SLAP!

Samuel rubbed his reddened cheek. “That’s for breaking my best friend’s heart.” They said. “You’re an idiot and a douche.” They threw behind them as they climbed on the bike. “Now get on the scooter.”

Samuel quietly climbed on as they drove away. “I’m sorry, Joan.”

“I know, you dumb himbo.” Joan said. “Don’t worry about it. When this is all over, you need to talk to him. He, at the very least, deserves that.”

“I know.”

—————————

“My prince, the akuma is in the rose vines around his body, they glow whenever he summons a black rose!” Chat yelled, dodging attacks.

“But the vines are so close to his body, if we aren’t careful, we could kill him.” Luckybug yelled.

“So what should we- Ugh!” Chat’s body was wrapped tightly in the vines, the thorns digging into his costume, making his mask flicker quickly once more.

Luckybug glared at Overgrowth. “Enough is enough! Lucky Charm!” He yelled, throwing his yo-yo in the air, summoning… was that a metal hook?

“Ha ha, Luckybug. What’s that supposed to do, take me fishing?” Overgrowth yelled, as Luckybug looked around for something, anything - a clue as to what this was supposed to be used for.

Nothing. There was nothing.

Chat struggled in the villain’s grasp, trying to use anything to break free. Overgrowth smiled. “I’d love to stay and chat, but it seems a heartbreaker is slithering away. Goodbye.”

“Wait-!” Luckybug yelled, trying to rush after them, but Overgrowth quickly blocked the path by making the vines grow thick, blocking the hero from following him. “Chaton…”

He failed. Chat needed her and he couldn’t do anything.

What kind of hero was he?!

He heard a small voice in his head. Don’t give up hope, Virgil. Trust yourself.

“Tikki…?”

Chat Noir needs you, Virgil. His kawami is weakened, he won’t have long before he transforms back. Hawkmoth can’t know his identity.

You were chosen for a reason, Virgil.

————————–

Samuel and Joan drove quickly through the streets of Paris, trying to find a space to hide, when they heard a sickening sweet voice and their hearts quickly dropped.

“Samuel? My sweet? Don’t run away!”

“J-joan…” Samuel said, gripping their middle at the voice.

“I know. We need to hide, come on!” Joan said, grabbing his arm a bit harshly and heading into a nearby hotel, abandoning the scooter. They rushed up stairs, Joan practically pulling Samuel along. Even though he was a jerk, Samuel didn’t deserve whatever punishment Overgrowth has in store.

They searched and found a small broom closet, practically throwing Samuel inside. “Joan, come in, he’s coming!”

Joan smiled sadly. “I know.”

“Wait…”

“I know Thomas is in there… somewhere. I just need to reach out to him. Stay in here and keep quiet, alright?” Joan said, pushing Samuel deeper inside the small room, shutting the door and jamming the handle with a nearby broom. They heard banging, but didn’t respond. They needed to fix this, once and for all.

Luckybug jumped across the Paris rooftops, holding the metal hook and swinging his yo-yo, focused. Chat needed him. He didn’t need to look far - the Paris Hotel was swarmed with an overgrowth of vines, a huge clump of green on the top.

He climbed up quickly, and jumped onto the roof, hiding when he heard a voice he recognized. Was that Joan…? He peaked around the corner.

“Overgrowth, listen to me. I’m sorry for everything that happened, but you don’t need to be this way. Friends don’t let friends become horrible villains and destroy Paris.” Joan said, using their arms for emphasis. Overgrowth scoffed.

“I like the way I am now - less stupid and idiotic. This way, no one will ever have their heart broken again!”

Luckybug slowly crept behind the villain, shushing Joan and Chat, wrapped in the familiar thick green vine. Slowly, she grabbed the end of the vine wrapped around him, and tied it to the thick hook, hooking it sturdily to the metal around the emergency fire hose.

“Thomas, this isn’t you. Please. Don’t you trust me…?”

“I…” Overgrowth felt strange, weird even, until a sharp pain in his head snapped him to focus.

Don’t stand there, grab him you idiot!

Joan ran, dodging his attacks, nearly getting hit. “Now, Luckybug!”

Overgrowth turned, and Luckybug gave a smirk. “Time for your trip, I’m afraid.” He kicked the villain in the face, sending him over the edge. He fell, the vine wrapped around him being unwound as he yelled. He released Chat quickly and jumped down after the akuma, the vines around him unraveled until he was free falling. He quickly caught him, bringing him back up, yelling. “Now Chat!”

Chat Noir quickly rushed over, igniting his Cataclysm and striking the vines. As it turned to black dust, a purple butterfly sprouted out as Luckybug settled the victim in the roof, turning toward the akuma. “Time to de-evilize!” He yelled, catching the butterfly in her yo-yo, purifying and releasing it. “Bye-bye butterfly!”

“Miraculous Ladybug!”

—————-

The last thing Thomas remembered was being sad, so heartbroken…

Next thing he knew, he was on the roof of a hotel. “What… what happened?” He looked down at his hands. “Was I…?”

He looked over to see Joan, their eyes filled with tears as they rushed over, enveloping their friend in a big hug. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, you hear me?!” The roof door opened, Talyn running toward the two. Joan looked up as Talyn crashed into them with a big hug. They quickly let go before punching Joan in the arm. “Hey-!”

“That’s for stealing my scooter, you ass!” Talyn said. “I ran all the way here from nineteenth thanks to you!”

Joan gave their friend a nervous smile. “Good exercise…?” Talyn socked him on the arm harder than before, sending explosions of pain down Joan’s arm. “Owww-! Sorry, sorry-!"

Thomas couldn’t help but giggle at this. "Rule number one: Never take Talyn’s scooter unless you’re looking for a fight. Eh, Joan?”

Joan smiled, rubbing at his arm and wincing at the pain. “Duly noted.”

Suddenly, the door opened and someone else appeared, leaving a tight knot in Thomas’s stomach - Samuel. He crossed his arms. “What are you doing here, Samuel?”

“I… I need to talk to you.”

“There’s no need, I get it. You don’t like me that way, it’s fine-”

“No, it’s not that at all. I do. Like you, I mean. Like, really really like you.” Samuel said, getting red. “When you told me I was just so shocked. I mean, you’re amazing, and I'm…”

“You're…?” Thomas asked.

“I’m a poor kid with nothing to offer but myself. You don’t deserve that.”

“Oh please.” Thomas said. “You are everything I could ever want - you’re kind, smart, resourceful - you make beautiful things out of nothing. You are what I deserve, Samuel Riggs.”

Samuel blushed, scratching the back of his head. “I still can’t believe you figured me out, I thought I was pretty secret about that kind of thing. How’d you do it?”

Thomas looked over to his friends, almost squealing at the two - they’d been trying to get them together for ages. “Oh, I had some… help.”

Samuel coughed, his face pink. “Dinner on Saturday? I know a great little bakery that’s pretty cheap - it’s supposed to be the best in Paris!”

Thomas smiled. “You’ve got yourself a date, Mr. Riggs. Pick me up at 7.” Thomas said, giving his new lover a kiss on the cheek, making Samuel turn bright red. He stammered, backing up until his back hit the door.

“Y-yes, a date! Date on S-saturday. The Saturday date-!” He laughed when his back met the door, his face still red. “S-see ya, Thomas!”

Hearts can be mended, but one day we’ll face each other, and I’ll be the one walking away unscathed, Luckybug and Chat Noir!

———————-

Luckybug quickly rushed downstairs with Chat, the beeping making his anxiety grow ever more. He noticed a closet and held it open. “Chat, you need to go, you’ll change back any second-”

When he hesitated, Luckybug tried shoving him inside to no avail. “Chat, please-”

“My prince. Look at me.”

“C-chat…?” He asked, getting nervous. “What’s going on…?” The beeping of Chat’s ring faded into the background as the two heroes stared at each other. Chat grabbed Luckybug’s hands in his own. Chat’s heart thumped wildly in his chest.

Today was the day. He needed to know.

“I need to tell you something my prince, something that my heart has burned in agony to tell you since the moment I met you.” He smiled as Luckybug stared at him. Luckybug was confused - why was he getting so flustered? Why is Chat looking at her like that? Luckybug’s head began to spiral.

This isn’t right, this isn’t right…

“My prince, I-”

Before Chat had finished his sentence, Luckybug could see his uniform begin to come undone, and kicked him inside, slamming the door and pressing his back to it, breathing heavily. He can’t know Chat’s identity. He just can’t. He cares too much to know.

“My prince…?”

“What the hell was that for, Chaton?!” He yelled. “You put yourself in danger, how can you be so reckless?!”

“I…” Roman’s voice was soft from the other side of the door. “I just need to speak to you, my prince. It’s… very important.”

“Now?!” Luckybug snapped. “Chat you were about to transform back! You know we can’t know each other’s identities, Hawkmoth-”

“Hawkmoth can use it against us, I know.” Roman sighed. “We just… really need to talk, my prince. I need to tell you something, something that I’ve kept to myself for far too long.”

Luckybug’s eyebrows were knitted. “Is it about Hawkmoth? Are you in danger, Chaton?”

“No, no… it’s just- I need to talk to you face to face. About us.” Roman said, biting his lip. Plagg, held in his master’s hands, rubbed his thumb in a bit of encouragement. They shared a small smile with each other.

“Chat, please just tell me what’s going on-”

“276 Melborne. The roof. Come at midnight, my prince. I’ll tell you everything, I promise.” Roman said. “Just… trust me.”

Luckybug’s stomach felt like a knot, but he trusted Chat with anything. He’d saved his life before, he had no reason not to. Months of partnership - of fighting side by side, as equals and as friends. Luckybug detransformed, and he slowly put his hand on the door, as if to be a slight source of comfort for the cat hero figure.

“Be safe, kitty.”

Then, he ran down the steps, his heart heavy and his stomach in knots, her mind focused on getting back home - after all, Roman’s theater group needed the costumes ready for the fitting.

Roman’s head thunked on the door, and he sighed. “Why is this so hard? I’ve dealt with tons of lovestruck fans, but with him… I can barely speak.”

“I’m proud of you, kid,” Plagg said. “Even if you melted like a bunch of gooey camemberts.” He added, smirking.

“Hey!” Roman interjected.

“Speaking of camembert…” Plagg said, diving in the pocket of Roman’s shirt for the cheese. Roman laughed at his kwami, nervous for the night ahead, but happy he decided to do it - after all this time, being restricted and ashamed for who he loved, he was happy he could at least confess to his crush, even if it was as Chat Noir.

He looked out the window as Plagg ate, seeing a ladybug, smiling to himself. Luckybug would finally know the truth, and he could finally be true with himself.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #sander sides #prinxiety #logicality #sanders sides joan #sanders sides talyn #miraculous ladybug #tw homophobia #miracle miraculous au

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doyoungbunnyagenda · 4 years

Text

Crown Of Thorns; Bed Of Roses -k.dy : Prologue

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Summary • Alcohol and late-night rendezvous were the only things keeping the young princess Y/N stable. Doyoung was an actor finding his relief his in cigarettes and dark streets. Ever since meeting one night, they both have spent their time picking up each other’s pieces and building each other from the ground up. When Y/N thinks her life is back on track, her childhood demons come back to bite her, however this time they have a proposal. That had to do with her father, herself and a shotgun… When Doyoung tries to rescue her from her demons, he puts himself in equally as much danger.

Pairing • actor!doyoung x modernprincess!reader

Genre • so much drama and equally as much angst, royalty!au

Word count • 1.32k

Warnings • description of death, mentions of grief, slight mention of suicide, fight scenes, swearing, mention of drugs

Songs to listen to • Don’t leave me - BTS, 지나갈테니 Been through - EXO

A/N • Nothing much to say other than I cried a bit while writing this.

Autumn 2004

Three thrones lined the elevated platform, the one on the left sat the king, clad in black with the country’s Crown Jewels adorned upon his head. In the second throne sat the young princess, at six years of age, also adorned in black staring at the floor like it was a means of escaping the reality she was facing. In the last throne, all that sat was a sliver tiara fit for a queen. She reached out her small hand out to the other side of the throne, expecting someone one to hold on to it out of affirmation. Like her mother always used to do...

The archbishop was reciting a sermon about life and death, but her young mind barely understood what the man was saying. Her pure focus was only on the cedar wood coffin that stood a couple of feet away from her. In it lied all she had ever known and truly loved. Even at her tender age, she realised, every day after this one will be completely different, a blanket of darkness will cover her life for however long it decides to stay. Someone very important to her had slipped between her fingertips like sand through an hourglass. She didn’t know the word at the time, but she was experiencing grief at it’s finest.

To the girl's surprise, she felt a presence next to her rise from their seat, She looked at the crowd before her and they all did the same. She followed suit. Like a puppy, she timidly trailed behind her father as he walked down the aisle of the church. Royal guards were carrying the coffin upon the shoulders leading it to its final resting place, six feet beneath her feet. One last prayer was said until the casket was lowered into the ground. One part of her wanted to fall into the hole with it. Oh, if she had known, she would have spent every other second they had left by their side. Whether it was trapped in a motherly embrace. Going on walks in the royal garden and picking flowers and sneezing because of the pollen intake. Laying in bed, being lulled to sleep by a voice so divine and angelic, it could tame the devil himself.

Anything and everything was better than this.

Her father clutched her side as he whispered to the ground, tears streaming down his aged features, “She gone princess. She’s not coming back...”

This was the first time she had ever seen her father cry, (or anyone of that matter) reach this level of vulnerability. As a king, he was normally expected to keep a stone-cold exterior. Even to his own blood, he had a heart of pure obsidian. Never faltering lower than what was expected of him. More of the salty substance trickled from the corner of his eyes, staining his cheeks. If anyone looked hard enough they could see the broken man’s tears pooled on the top of the coffin.

Her dad grabbed his daughter by the hand and led her away from the dugout. She turned her head back looking at it. Breaking her strong resolve, she finally allowed her tears to escape from their confinements. She wasn’t coming back and it finally started to hit her. The force of the fact hit her like a forceful slap on the cheek, with her feelings of sorrow painfully lingering afterwards. The princess looked back in the direction of her father and finally realised that he had let go of her hand. He had gone off to talk to her uncle.

The man was a few years older than the king, but people barely noticed it. Sharing the same type of black slicked-back hair, with a couple of grey streaks. But the major difference was in their facial expressions. Her uncle’s face was distorted with a look of absolute fury. While her father looked taken aback, towering backwards slightly. For some reason, she'd always taken a liking to her uncle. She would even consider him as more like a dad than her actual father as he is around the place more often. Y/N, her uncle and his son Youngho were basically jointed at the hip. Her uncle was the one who tutored her and Youngho, her father and mother were far to busy for trivial things like that. Naturally, in whatever argument was going on, the princess took her uncle’s side.

“You caused all of this.” Her uncle spat, staring daggers into her father’s eyes. “If you weren’t here she’ll still be alive-“

“What d-do you mean-n?” The king stuttered, all of his remaining confidence shattering at the sight of his raging older brother. “It was a suicide, I had nothing to do her death.”

Her uncle let out a dark chuckle while shaking his head and said,” Lies... This is all a lie...” The slightly taller man started the king up and down. “Stop trying to act like you're innocent, acting like your the victim. You think you’re good at hiding it, don’t you? But every single person here knows you killed your own wife.”

Silence...

“So you’re silent huh?” He taunted,” You’re admitting it now, you should show your whole kingdom the kind of monster you are.”

“What kind of drugs did you take last night, to make you think this? How delusional can one man be?” Her father said melodramatically, “What demon could have possessed that stupid little head of yours to think that?”

“You stole the woman I loved away from me and threw her away like one of your many little playthings, all because she didn’t bear you a son.” He stated confidently,” All I ever dreamt of was to rule this kingdom with my queen by my side, but no. Your selfish ass couldn’t let me do that. You and your stupid ambitions got in the way of my dreams. I never got why daddy always favoured you.”

“You weren’t fit to rule-“

“FIT TO RULE I WAS!” Her uncle belted,” You stole everything from me; I can not let you get away with this one.”

He moved his head and whispered in the king’s ear,” You never even loved her anyway.”

Ashes to ashes.

“Take that back, I dare you or I’ll make you regret every piece of shit that just came out of your mouth.” Her father hissed balling his fists.

“I won’t do it without a fight.” Challenged his elder brother.

Dust to dust.

A punch was landed on his face.

A sharp red mark was imprinted on her uncle’s face, sure to leave a bruise later. The man looked back towards the king and charged him. A full-blown fistfight exploded between the two biggest powers in the country. Her two closest surviving relatives. Blood was splattered on the top half of their suits, tainting the material with the garnet red. The guests watched in horror as the fight escalated. Running up to her, the girl's aunt took her hand and quickly dragged her away from the two fighting men. She quickly signalled for a driver to come and take Y/N and Youngho away from the situation. The kind woman ushered her and Youngho into the black limousine. The last thing she saw and heard from outside was her uncle lying on the muddy grass looking dazed with a beaten-up face and bloody ripped nose. The words that came out of her father’s lips were as followed:

“Tomorrow evening, you shall be exiled, never to step a foot in this kingdom for 13 years. If you are found on my land before then you shall be executed. Heed my warning. I don’t mess around.” Then he walked away.

With quivering lips, she faced your older cousin,” Youngho... I’m scared” she murmured, clutching on to his arm, resting her head on his side as tears poured out of her eyes and onto his arm.

“I am too, I am too...”

#nct imagines #nct angst #nct series #nct senarios #kim doyoung #doyoung angst #doyoung imagines #doyoung scenarios #doyoung angst hours #doyoung x reader #nct 127 #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 angst #nct 127 series #nct 127 senarios

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eirian-houpe · 4 years

Text

The Library Beneath the Clock Tower - Chapter 17

platioFandom: Once Upon a Time (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Belle/Gaston (Once Upon a Time)

Additional Tags: Bookshop On the Corner, slightly AU, Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), Alternate Universe - In Storybrooke | Cursed (Once Upon a Time), Eventual Smut

Summary: Storybrooke has no library, and neither does Belle, not since the library where she worked in Boston discovered her past as an inpatient at a mental hospital. Taking her future into her own hands, Belle travels to Storybrooke where her intention is to open up the town library, but all does not go according to her plan. Obstacles and false starts, and diversion along very wrong pathways interrupt her journey toward fulfilling her dream, as well as taking her rightful place and becoming a part of the Storybrooke community.

Catch up on AO3

***

Chapter 17 - Contemplations

Although she had made a promise to the people of Storybrooke to get the library open as quickly as possible, as Belle stepped outside of the library the following morning to empty the box of registration cards - which she had been correct to assume would be numerous - she discovered that the good weather of the previous day had continued. Not only that, but it seemed as though it was going to be even better. As she flicked through the cards, glancing at the names, she decided it was the perfect day to take a walk around her new town. She went back inside the library, locked the door behind her and set the cards on the circulation desk. Then she went back up to the apartment, grabbed a light jacket, just in case, and slipped it into a little backpack style purse with the rest of her things, then left her home for a day of exploring.

At first she walked up and down the length of the high street, window shopping in the various stores that Storybrooke had to offer because it struck her that, even though only a relatively short while, in all the time that she had been there, she hadn’t really ever done that. She had fallen in love with the ambiance of the town without really knowing what it had to offer. What was there, she found, was very limited, but it was useful to find the Dark Star Pharmacy, and she promised herself that she would take a proper look around the clothing store just as soon as she had more time. The walk around was to get a general ‘lie of the land’ kind of feel, and little by little she found herself falling even deeper into love with the place.

Useful Places In Storybrooke. She began to make herself a list: The hospital (in case she ever needed a doctor), since it seemed like the only place to go if one were injured or sick. Granny’s (of course); the Dark Star Pharmacy, because well… there were only so many times one could buy what was needed from the irrepressible Maggie, and they also seemed to sell stationary and hardware; the Marine Garage, because if the van ever broke down she would need someone to fix it.

Then there were the not so useful places. Although she liked flowers, loved the way they brightened up a place, Belle decided she would steer clear of Game of Thorns. Perhaps that was more because of her first impressions of the proprietor, Moe French, who had nearly swindled her into ‘subleasing’ a van, and action for which she had no right. She found that a part of her felt as offended as Mister Gold had seemed to be when he’d caught the two of them in the midst of making that deal, and she was eternally thankful to whatever gods were listening that Gold did not seem to have apportioned any blame to her in that regard. Maybe she should have listened to Maggie after all. However, there was another part of her, an instinctive part that simply… had a bad feeling about the whole place, so, although it was the town’s only florist, if she wanted fresh flowers for the apartment or the library, she’d simply have to drive to the next town. Another of the places that made her sense of wrongness tingle down her spine was the town’s apparently only venue for nightlife: The Rabbit Hole. Even from the outside, the place looked like a shady spot. So much so that even though it appeared open for daytime business, and it might have been nice to have a drink on such a pleasant day even - a glass of wine perhaps - if she did not often partake, she shuddered at the thought of going inside without an armed escort.

She also found her way to the Sheriff’s office, which she would put on neither list really, and which she hoped not to need to contact all that often, but she had decided that she would go and re-introduce herself to the local Sheriff under less stressful circumstances than before, and found Graham Humbert to be a very gracious man, who promised to make sure that he kept a weather eye on the library.

The last place her feet took her in her morning wanderings was to the window of the pawn shop. She wasn’t about to go inside, even though the sign said ‘open’ because she didn’t really need to talk to Mister Gold, so didn’t want him to think that she was stalking him or something. Besides, frankly, she found him snarky and more than a little bit irritating even though, for some unknown reason, she seemed to keep bumping into him in the most unlikely of places, and when she did, found herself drawn to him in some intangible kind of way. So she stayed outside, hands cupped around her face to peer inside at the absolute treasure trove of things, and knickknacks, and possessions of every kind. She was fascinated.

Just as she was about to talk herself into perhaps taking a look around inside anyway, her stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she had skipped breakfast, and that since it was now approaching noon, she really had better eat something. It was only a short walk after all from Gold’s shop to Granny’s, and so she turned and headed that way.

After lunch, in which she had convinced herself that she would like to see places further out in Storybrooke, she took out the keys to the van, and went for a drive. Thus, she found the park, the cemetery, found her own way to the warehouse at the docks, that she’d last seen from the cab of Hunters big rig, and was eminently surprised to find that Storybrooke was also the proud possessor of a convent, of all places. That had come as a great surprise. She recognized the road that had taken her past the establishment as the one that would ultimately lead out of town to the sign, and the bend, and the tree where she had left the book for Hunter, and became intensely curious to find out whether he had driven past and seen it.

No time like the present to find out, she mused, and so after slowing to a stop to peer at the convent building, she put the van back in gear, and set off toward the town line. Soon enough, she was approaching ‘The Bend.’ She chuckled to herself a little bit as she decided to name the spot that had been both the cause of many troubles, and the beginning of everything working out. It seemed funny to her how that strange balance seemed to exist a lot around her. Not always immediately, and certainly not often in a comfortable manner, but it was as though she lived her life according to a pendulum, or better yet, a teeter totter.

She slowed the van to a crawl, in case of other traffic, or more deer, since it was, after all, the afternoon, and as she did, she noticed that the bag she had left attached to the tree was no longer there, but in its place a grubby white sack, the kind in which root vegetables might be kept, was nailed in its place. On the outside of the bag her name, Belle, written in shaky letters, no doubt made worse by the fabric on which they were written stood out starkly. She pulled the van into the break in the trees, that she had at first thought of as a driveway, but which didn’t seem to go anywhere but into the forest, and stopped the engine, opening the door to get out.

Immediately she was surrounded by the peace and serenity of the forest. The buzz of insects, the cheeping of frogs and the faint splash of water, and in the distance, probably from some far off farm, the soft bleat of sheep, calling to one another. Above it all, in the light breeze the leaves, just unfurling from their winter sleep, rustled softly, as though in welcome. Something told her she was meant to be there.

She closed the door to the van, not bothering to lock it because, out there, who would come along to steal it - besides which, it had sat there for a longer time than the few minutes she thought she’d be there, while she went to Boston and back - and made her way carefully to the tree. She pulled out the nail, by virtue of wiggling it back and forth for a while, to release the bag containing her prize, set it down on the ground and opened it up to see what was inside. The contents were simply a book, and a hand written note, which she read first.

It was from Karrl, and it was a kind of apology - of sorts - and said, “Miss Belle, Hunter says I should apologize, so this is it. I’m sorry I got mad at you and called you names. I shouldn’t have done that, but I was shaken up by nearly running into you like we did. Hunter says that we can make it up to you by bringing up those books you left in Boston, that you were telling him about. Let us know, yeah? Here’s my contact info.” and it was followed by a legible - gods be praised, she thought - email address.

She tucked the note into a pocket of her purse as she pulled it from her back, and then took the book out of the sack, which she then folded and also stuffed into her purse rather than litter and leave it in the countryside for the deer to eat. She looked at the cover of the book; a book of poetry by Victor Hugo, entitled Les Contemplations - Thoughts - she automatically translated, although the English ‘contemplations’ would have done just as well. There was a poem marked with a worn piece of ribbon, and opening it to the page it marked she read, “Je dormais en effet, et tu me réveillas.” She raised an eyebrow, wondering if Hunter meant some hidden message to tell her that she had somehow woken him from sleep - from a dream? She sighed softly, temporarily closing the book with the ribbon still in place, and looked for a place to sit and read.

She spotted it almost at once, a wide branch in the tree that curved, almost like a natural hammock, it shouldn’t be too hard to climb to, even dressed as she was, and besides, there was no one around to see if she hiked up her skirt, as she would need to do to climb. It took some little effort, as her feet kept slipping on the bark, but eventually she managed to sit, nestled against the trunk, her feet stretched out before her, crossed at the ankles, as she nestled as in the arms of Nature. It was perfect, so long as she didn’t lose herself too much in the poetry and fall. Falling would not be too much of a problem on the one side, because it wasn’t much further than the height of a man from the grassy verge. The other side however, beyond the tree, if she were to fall that way, would deposit her onto the rock strewn, muddy bank of the creek in which she had heard the frogs singing. It certainly wouldn’t do to fall that way.

Still, in the shelter of the tree, it was warm and sun-dappled, a place to forget her cares, and turn her attention back to the poem Hunter had marked for her.

Je dormais en effet, et tu me réveillas. Je te criai: «Salut!» et tu me dis: «Hélas!» Et cet instant fut doux, et nous nous embrassâmes; Nous mêlâmes tes pleurs, mon sourire et nos âmes.

Ces temps sont déjà loin; où donc alors roulait Ma vie? et ce destin sévère qui me plaît, Qu'est-ce donc qu'il faisait de cette feuille morte Que je suis, et qu'un vent pousse, et qu'un vent remporte?*

The sudden sound of a car horn ripped her from her immersion in the words, both in their original French and in English. She tried to ignore it, and read on, but it sounded again, and again and a third time.

She looked over the edge of the tree branch to see a black Cadillac that was evidently trying to pass where she had parked the van. She was certain there was room for the driver to pass, and she called down to him.

“You should be fine!” she said “Just drive past!”

The driver honked the horn again, and she sighed and called out the same thing over again. Then she heard the slam of a car door, followed by the a-rhythmic crunch of footsteps. The driver had three legs? The moment before she heard his voice she realized who the driver was.

“Miss Marchland,” Gold called up. “What the hell are you doing up there. Come down!”

“Reading,” she amswered him, “Not that it’s any of your business, but that’s what I’m doing, and if you’re trying to get past, there’s plenty of room.”

“Because of course you’re an expert in the proportions of my vehicle,” he snarked.

“I have a better vantage point from up here, that’s all,” she assured him with exaggerated patience. “So no, I won’t come down because I don’t need to move the van.” She opened the book of poetry again and added, “Good day, Mister Gold.”

He was not, apparently, to be deterred.

“As a matter of fact, Miss Marchland, your ‘better vantage point,’ is somewhat precarious,” he said, “Or perhaps you didn’t notice, while you were climbing, that the tree is quite dead, and the branch on which you’re sitting riddled with dry rot.”

As if to prove a point he reached out a hand and snapped off one of the smaller, lower branches that she’d used as leverage to get herself up into the tree, with ease.

“Oh,” she said simply.

“Indeed,” he agreed. After a moment or more of awkward silence, he asked, “Well, are you going to come down, or do I have to go and mobilize the fire department.”

“Of course not,” she grumbled, shuffling to the edge of the branch and realizing that she was going to have to hitch her skirt up again in order to get down safely - especially now that Gold had taken away one of her foot holds. “Just… turn around!” she ordered.

“Miss Marchland,” he told her, his tone smug, “I was a married man for quite some time, I can assure you, I’ve seen a woman’s legs before.”

“Not mine you haven’t,” she retorted. “Turn around.”

He sighed, “As you wish.”

She waited while he turned his back, and then tucking the book beneath her arm - because it wouldn’t do to simply drop it onto the ground - she tugged up her skirt to give herself a better range of motion, and began to shimmy down.

Absent the branch that Gold had broken from the tree, she had to jump the last little way, and she landed awkwardly, stumbling. He must have heard that she had, and faster than she would have thought he could move he turned and reached out to steady her, even as her hand came into contact with his chest.

She blushed at her own clumsiness, and at the fact of the sudden feeling that her hand was on fire where it pressed against him, beside his tie-clip, and she snatched it away. He was slower to let go. Not releasing her until she was more steady on her feet, and and she murmured an apologetic, ‘Thank you.’ He nodded, but said nothing.

The silence was once again awkward, so to try and break the silence she asked, “Did you fill out a registration card, Mister Gold?”

He looked at her than as though she had grown an extra head. “Do I need to?” he asked, non-plussed.

For some inexplicable reason his response made her angry. Did he think he was above reading; using the library? Did he think it was mainly bored housewives that read books?

“You know, women find men that read quite attractive! You should try it some time,” she snapped.

He gave her a steady look, with a slightly raised eyebrow, and answered dismissively, “Do they?”

She decided not to answer, because she was already blushing enough, and let silence fall between them again. It was a silence that Mister Gold did not seem to want to break either. Someone did though - or rather something.

A sudden, whining bark sounded out of nowhere, and made Belle jump. She turned to face the Cadillac as Gold stepped back to it and opened up the back door, releasing the black and white Collie from the back of the car. It hurried to the nearest tree and lifted its leg.

“Oh,” Belle said. “I didn’t know you had a dog.”

Gold sighed. “Miss Marchland,” he said somewhat smugly, “there are a great many things you do not know about me, and I am quite content to keep it that way.” He snapped his fingers and the dog trotted obediently to his side, to sit at heel.

“He’s a beautiful dog,” she said.

“He is a working dog,” Gold corrected her, but she ignored his words, and held out a hand toward the animal. The dog sniffed at the offered hand, and his tail began thumping the ground behind him. Belle crouched down and fussed behind his ears, which only increased the speed of the thumping until a small cloud of dust flew up around him.

“He’s still beautiful,” she said, “And clever.”

“And you’d know this…?”

She shrugged, and eventually said, “Well, you can’t be a working dog and be stupid now, can you?”

Apparently, Gold decided not to answer, instead telling her, “If there is nothing else I can do to save you from yourself, Miss Marchland, the dog and I have work to do.”

“Of course,” she said, blushing again as Gold looked at her as if expectant of something. “Good afternoon then.”

Gold sighed again. “The van?”

“Yes, right.”

Embarrassed she became flustered, and almost dropped the book as she fished around in her purse for the van keys. If her landlord noticed, he said nothing, simply walked to his car, and with a hand signal, ordered the dog inside, closing the door behind it. By that time Belle had the keys, and was settling herself in the van.

It took her a moment to start the engine, and a few moments longer to reverse the van out of the gravel entryway and back onto the road. Once she was out of the way, she stopped the van, and raised a hand in an awkwardly cheery wave to Mister Gold. He did not return the wave, and a moment later, he was in the Cadillac, and driving slowly and carefully down the track.

Belle wondered where it led, but decided that today was not the day to follow him and find out. There would be plenty of other days to solve the mystery of the landlord and his working dog. Instead she pulled out the piece of paper from her purse and looked at the email address on the page, allowing the romance of the poetry that Hunter had sent to her to sweep away the lingering unpleasantness of Gold’s unending sarcasm.

****

*I was indeed sleeping, and you woke me up. I shouted to you: "Hi!" and you say to me: "Alas!" And that moment was sweet, and we kissed; We mixed your tears, my smile and our souls.

These times are long gone; where then rolled My life? and this severe fate that I like, What was he doing with this dead leaf Who am I, and a wind pushes, and a wind wins?

(Translation of the French: To Jules J. by Victor Hugo December 1854)

#rumbelle #bookshop on the corner #AU (slight)#storybrooke #eventual smut

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