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joucearchived · 3 years

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The Hell In Your Eyes - 3

Summary: Loki doesn't meet her until two weeks after his initial imprisonment, but he knows he hates her. He has to hate her. Because the way she talks to him and helps him and saves him meals can't mean anything. She is too soft to deal with Loki, who is hardened with pain, pain, and more pain. And Loki hates soft things.

Have you ever seen the hell in someone’s eyes and loved it anyway?

Characters: Loki Laufeyson/(f)Reader

Warnings: brief mentions of violence

Word Count: 4836

Previous Chapter

Loki is annoyed.

Loki has sat through thousands of years of political dinners, exchanging thinly veiled insults under a layer of diplomacy, all while smiling through his teeth. Loki has spewed sensical nonsense, charming naive, innocent maids and sweeping young stable boys off their feet. Loki has endured Odin’s wrath — in all its horrible glory — countless times, and never once had he shed a tear, nor had a single cry escaped his lips.

The whole of Asgard had coined him the Dark Prince — and who was Loki to disappoint?

He had long since learned people saw what they expected to see.

And so as the entire realm rejoiced in his demise, as Laufey left him to die, as Odin condemned him for eternity, as Thor abandoned him, as Frigga had sided with her husband again and again and again, Loki maintained his carefully constructed front.

Yet one encounter with a mortal, and he had unraveled at her feet.

If physically kneeling before the wretched creature wasn’t enough, he knew she had seen past his mask. By the time he had regained his composure, he was sure she had seen him.

It won’t happen again.

Loki is a god, and gods do not crack. Gods maintain their image, regardless of circumstance. Gods do not show weakness, do not show vulnerability.

This is a lesson Loki knows well, a lesson etched into his skin countless times by Odin’s hand.

And yet for each time Odin reinforced this lesson, the very same lesson was burned away by Thanos a thousand more.

Loki tried, he truly did. Loki maintained his godly facade for an impressive amount of time, resisting as his body was taken apart over and over and over again. Perhaps it wasn’t as long as he thought. Loki feels as if his entire life was spent doused in agony, spent with his flesh melting off and his bones withering away.

Ultimately, a god is no match for a Titan.

But a mortal is no match for a god.

And yet, Loki has found himself at her feet — at her mercy — twice.

Even after, Loki couldn’t bring himself to summon his cruel exterior. Perhaps it had to do with the way she had waltzed into his space, all soft and defenseless, carrying that deplorable drink as if it was the elixir of eternal life (unfortunately, it tasted just as divine). Perhaps it was his body, still sated and full for the first time in months, reminding him of the food — the debt — he owes. Perhaps it was the way she held out her arm towards him, even though he could see it shaking.

Whether it was any of these things or none at all, Loki’s cool mask of indifference was rendered utterly useless at her delicate, mortal hands.

Loki hates her.

His hatred fills every fiber of his being. It’s a scalding, fiery hatred, much unlike the frozen excuse of Loki’s heart. His frost giant heritage seems to reject her very being.

Loki hates her voice, hates her hands, hates her. He hates how she makes him falter when there is no place for mistakes.

Loki’s thoughts are interrupted by Thor, who enters Loki’s quarters without an ounce of hesitation — ever the righteous, confident, arrogant bastard.

Ah, but Loki almost forgot. Thor is not the bastard — Loki is. How despicable; for really, Loki can not even call himself a bastard. Yet, ‘the Bastard Son of Odin’ has a certain charm to it. Perhaps another false title for his collection.

“Loki!” Thor booms, “Here are your clothes that Lady Angel washed. You should be grateful brother, for she offered of her own volition — ”

Is it so surprising someone would offer to help Loki without external influence?

“ — to see and visit you! You are doing well. I am happy to see you are finally making an effort to get to know all of our friends — ”

Thor is happy? For Loki, or for himself? Why must Loki, even now, strive to prove himself to Thor? Why is Loki’s worth solely dependent on Thor’s judgement?

“ — and Lady Angel is absolutely wonderful. I am delighted to see you two getting along so well! I can’t believe you finally made a friend— ”

At this, Loki’s composure cracks for the second time that day.

“What am I? A pathetic child wandering aimlessly through a school corridor? A helpless hatchling at the mercy of others — groveling for the bare minimum? Who are you to congratulate me for ‘making a friend?’ She is not a friend ,” Loki spits out. He can feel his teeth grinding against each other, his fingernails once again digging into his palms. “She is nothing more than another worthless mortal, unworthy of even breathing the same air as I, and yet you suggest I be grateful?”

Thor advances on Loki, his eyes hardening. The atmosphere is tense; unlike the typical bickering between the brothers, Loki identifies something distinctly different in the way the air vibrates. The space between the two gods crackles. “Watch yourself brother —”

Brother. The word grates upon Loki’s nerves. How can Thor so carelessly throw the word around, even knowing of its false implications — implications and lies Loki foolishly believed.

Sometimes Loki wonders if Thor does it on purpose.

“Do you hear yourself Thor? Bending yourself over backwards to defend this wasted excuse of consciousness — you are the King of Asgard. What is she? She is nothing.”

And now Loki is no longer staring at his brother, but the ceiling of his prison. His back is slammed against Stark’s hardwood floors and there is sharp ringing in his ears, likely the result of the crack in the floor right behind where his head is currently embedded.

Loki almost laughs.

Truly, it is comical — comical that even now, Thor’s first instinct is to physically threaten Loki. As if Loki doesn’t almost enjoy it.

But Loki’s laugh catches in his throat, prevented from escaping by the large hand tightening around his airway.

Thor’s hand is around Loki’s neck — a mirror of His.

A thousand years Loki has known Thor. A thousand years of childish brawls, foolhardy battles, pointless arguments. How many times has Loki betrayed Thor? Thor betrayed Loki? And yet, Loki believed he knew his brother’s character.

A thousand years Loki has known Thor, but never once has he thought Thor to be cruel.

Oh how wrong he is.

Thor’s hands are gripping Loki’s neck and for the life of him Loki can’t breathe. He tries to draw air into his lungs — lungs that are screaming with a familiar ache — and fails. Phantom pains flicker across his entire body and somehow, in the second before his vision goes black, Loki manages to croak out a strangled wheeze of a laugh.

Loki is once again strapped upon a bed of coals, once again stabbed with blades of flame, once again torched with fire so hot he freezes. Loki remembers the only other time he begged — begged and pleaded for the sweet mercy of death, all while knowing death was a pleasure he was never to be granted.

Loki is once again kneeling — boneless — at the feet of a Titan, looking up into a face promising endless pain, a face painted with the patience of a thousand moons and splattered with the ruined blood of a Frost Giant.

Loki did not know that a Frost Giant’s blood could boil.

Ah, but the Mad Titan knew, and he ensured Loki would never forget.

Loki recalls the moment he let go — an eerie echo of his fall from grace, his fall from the Bifrost. And he remembers the horribly invasive power of the scepter, along with the blessed relief and utter disregard for self preservation that followed.

And it is this — the relief — that plagues Loki. He does not fool himself; Loki may be the God of Lies, but he has no reason to lie to himself . It is not the destruction of New York nor the deaths at his hand that weigh upon his shattered mind. No, it is the fact that Loki found solace in his actions.

Make no mistake — Loki does not rejoice in his crime, but nor could he say he regrets it.

For if Loki were given the choice, he could not — would not — choose to spare Midgard at the cost of his own sanity.

(But Loki was never given a choice.)

Alas, Loki is already insane.

The Mad Titan has taken so much from Loki.

Physically, Loki has long since disregarded his own body. He remembers the beginning of his torture, when he still held the title of 'Prince of Asgard,' when he spoke with arrogance and oozed of indignantion. Oh how naive he had been. When the first whips had landed across his skin, Loki's thoughts could never have anticipated what the coming months would entail. Loki did not once stop to consider how he would escape the clutches of his captor — oh the confidence he held! — but instead lamented the scars he would surely have to bear. Dimly, Loki recalls worrying over his marred skin, irritated at the blemishes he would surely have to cover when taking future lovers.

Loki scoffs.

Loki does not recognize the man who spent time thinking of lovers. Or of his physical appearance. Or of his interests. Or of any other insignificant pleasure that ultimately contributes to the annihilation of a soul.

(Even now, Loki carries with him an irrational fear of physical touch — a seed planted by the Mad Titan that Loki cannot gouge out, not even if he tore open his very being.)

In fact, Loki wondered if his corporeal form had even existed anymore. But most of all, more than the ruination of his physical form, Loki mourns the damnation of his mind.

Ultimately, the Mad Titan did triumph over Loki. For no matter how many times Loki escapes, fakes his death, runs away, he can never evade the visions that haunt his mind, the voices that infect his thoughts, the termites eating away at what remains of Loki’s sanity.

(If Loki were given a choice, he would have chosen death again and again and again.)

Alas, Loki was not — is not — given a choice, for suddenly he is not lying on a bed of coals, but on his apartment floor again. Thor has since removed his hand from Loki’s neck and Loki half wishes Thor just kept it there. Just kept on squeezing and squeezing and squeezing until Loki died on that bed of coals.

Loki wonders, if he were to die at Thor’s hand, would his brother feel remorse? Or perhaps, more realistically, relief?

Unfortunately, Loki is not dead, and Thor is gazing at him, concern evident in his gaze. As if Thor wasn’t the one who put Loki in this condition — wasn’t the one who greedily snatched all of Odin’s affection, wasn’t the one who pushed Loki out of favor, wasn’t the one who led his brainless minions in a brash suicide mission, as if Thor wasn’t the one who stared Loki in the eye as Loki let go into the abyss.

As if Thor wasn’t the first domino in a long ripple effect that eventually drowned Loki in his sins.

Thor was the smooth pebble that young children skipped over lakes, just barely skimming the surface of a tempting downfall — nevertheless gracefully leaping unscathed across the reflective waters. Yet Loki was the jagged, unskippable rock, destined to fall through the air and fall through the water with no hesitation. Loki has long since come to terms with this simple fact.

No longer does Loki resent his brother, for he understands: light can only shine in the presence of darkness. And if Loki is condemned to darkness — so be it.

Loki does not resent his brother, but oftentimes Loki despises his lightness . What some might say is endearing — the inability for Thor to give up — is just a burden. Even now, Thor still thinks he can change Loki, can fix him. Thor still thinks that by vouching for Loki and providing Loki a place to live and surrounding Loki with Thor’s friends that he can mend Loki’s broken soul and bring back the brother he once had. Thor is still in denial — he refuses to grasp the very simple concept that Thor’s brother — the Second Prince of Asgard, God of Lighthearted Mischief — is long dead. And so Thor continues to try. But light yelling into the darkness does not change it.

And even now, with Thor looming above Loki, Loki does not resent his brother.

But Loki resents Thor’s very being — the core of who Thor is. Thor is a duality; one of naivety and compassion, yet tainted — or perhaps embellished — with a smidge of cruelty and arrogance.

And as Thor is speaking to Loki, mouth forming words Loki is too tired to hear, Loki simply lies on the floor, limbs relaxed around him, throat sore, and does the only thing he can do when feeling so utterly empty.

Loki laughs.

______________________________

Midgard is rather charming in some regards.

Loki will eventually have to investigate the laundry process, for he has just now made the curious discovery that freshly dried clothes are warm . He suspects they were warmer right after they were dried, but he can still feel the presence of the heat, lingering within the very fabric of his garments. He wonders just how much they were heated up to — would it have burnt his frozen hands at the peak of its fiery glory?

No, Loki’s hands are too well accustomed to fire now.

But he doubts that her hands are. He envisions Angel pulling his clothes out of the dryer, her hands touching the same clothes that he has worn, that he will wear, that he is currently touching.

Yet is it entirely possible Loki is standing around, imagining a scene that never played out, for it was not Angel who brought Loki’s laundry back to him, but his dearest brother. Looking at his pile of clothes again, Loki takes in the telltale signs of Thor. The messily folded shirts stare back at Loki, mocking him.

He wonders if she ever even did any part of his laundry. Perhaps she only offered it as a way to ease the uncomfortable tension that had arisen earlier. Or rather, (and his stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought) she lugged his laundry basket downstairs and dumped it straight into Thor’s arms.

Why else would she refuse his help to accompany her?

A twinge of something rises up within Loki as he realizes she accepted Thor’s offer to bring his clothes back. Or, much more likely, she had pushed the task onto Thor in a desperate attempt to avoid encountering him again.

Not that Loki could blame her.

And yet the uncomfortable sensation within Loki only grows, and he realizes that he feels something akin to disappointment. Loki cannot allow himself to feel disappointment. He had long since learned not to expect anything from anyone — or perhaps, much more cynically, to only depend on — to trust — himself.

Trust, Loki knows, is a fickle concept the naive embrace. Trust itself is ill fated, the certainty of an inevitable betrayal the same as the certainty that one day everyone living on this cursed realm will perish.

Loki hates Angel. He hates how she pretends to care for him, hates how she imitates Thor, hates how she always finds a way to break him, and Loki hates how Angel makes him feel.

Loki's silent anger boils inside of him — like the steady countdown of a ticking bomb — manifesting itself out of him as the laundry basket is violently launched across the room.

He hates how he feels absolutely no satisfaction at the way the freshly clean clothes scatter across the floor, hates how he lost control, and hates how the damned mortal forces him to feel emotions he does not want to feel .

Sometimes all Loki can do is hate.

______________________________

The heat from the clothes have long since seeped into the floor.

The sun is just now setting, dousing Loki’s room in a fiery glow. Warm light spills across Loki’s bookshelves, his impeccably made bed, the clothes strewn around his floor. Loki sits on the ground, bare of his illusions, allowing himself to just be .

Staring across the room, he notices tendrils of light carefully curling around the air, miniscule particles of dust dancing in the golden glow. This is a gold Loki enjoys. Unlike the brash, loud character of Thor’s gold — of Asgard’s gold, this is a much softer, gentle color. The comforting hue reminds Loki of his mother, and against his will, he feels a wall of despair beginning to build within his chest.

For a second, Loki loses himself as the wall crashes over him. He drops his head, allowing his hair to dangle in front of his face, obscuring his view of the floating particles. He feels like a child — wants nothing more in this moment than to run to Frigga, for her floral scent to fill his senses as she envelopes him in her arms. What Loki wouldn’t give to have Frigga’s delicate fingers comb through his hair just once more, for her soft lips against his forehead, murmuring words of comfort.

But he can’t have that. Instead, here he is, sitting on the floor of a glorified prison in the midst of a community of people who hate him, with nothing but Thor to act as his buffer.

Looking up, Loki gazes at the honeyed light as it glides over a particular heap of clothing. He watches, mesmerized, as the light gently moves, unhurriedly bathing each corner of the fabric in its rich glow.

If he were still on Asgard, Loki would most likely have been reading, thoroughly immersed in some story or another. The sun would have showered his pages in its quiet glow, lighting the words aflame. He would have taken a stroll in his mother’s gardens, breathing in the sweet scent of her flowers as he sat in his favorite hidden alcove. He would have taken out his book and continued to read, read until the golden hue of the sun was replaced by the tender shine of the moon. Only then would Loki return, serenely walking back to his chambers, stopping only to retrieve a cup of tea, and resume his reading on his balcony.

Loki wants that.

Loki wants an afternoon to himself, with no worries plaguing his mind.

Loki wants to be able to read, and to do so in an environment which permits him to let his guard down.

Loki wants to sit outside, surrounded by flowers, and watch as the sun transitions into the moon.

Loki wants to indulge in a hot cup of tea as he watches the moonlight spills across the pages of his book.

Loki wants so many things — and he can’t have any of them.

Standing up, Loki decides he has spent enough time reminiscing over what he cannot have today. He feels sticky and hot and cold and hungry and all he wants right now , is a long shower.

And so Loki walks over to the same pile of clothes, now dull and abandoned by the sun, gazing disapprovingly downwards. Thor is truly an imbecile, for he has not even managed to separate their clothes correctly. Loki is currently staring at a dark green sweatshirt, one he knows for a fact he has never seen before. Tiredly, he tosses it upon his bed and scoops up a clean change of clothes, then turns around and trodds slowly into the bathroom.

______________________________

Water droplets rain all around Loki, swiftly sliding down his body.

He doesn’t particularly enjoy showering — it reminds him too much of another substance: denser, stickier, and much more red, trickling down his skin. Loki much prefers baths. Baths, however, render their subject very much vulnerable, and Loki does not fancy risking any more vulnerability than strictly necessary.

So Loki is standing in the shower, unabashedly soaking up the shallow warmth the water provides. Surely if Thor could see him, his brother would lecture Loki on wasting Midgard’s precious resources. But, Loki reasons, if Stark truly possesses the excess of wealth he boasts of, Loki’s water usage will not be of much concern to the man. And so this is a luxury Loki will grant himself.

The shower is one place where Loki feels the safest, where he allows his thoughts to wander and drift into otherwise forbidden territories. Today especially has been challenging, and even his muscles seem to ache, the fibers pulling away from each other, trying to rip Loki apart from the inside out. His mind is exhausted, filled with swirling thoughts of Frigga and Angel and Thor, with the occasional Odin and Titan intruding whenever a particular body part cries out.

And as Loki gazes down at his body, the disfigured canvas of scars stare back at him and he attempts to soothe away the countless aches. No matter how much time has passed and how much magic Loki pours into himself, the pains never seem to retreat. Rationally, Loki knows it doesn’t make sense. He knows his magic is fully capable of healing himself, knows that by all accounts he is healed.

But Loki also knows he does not imagine the sharp pains coursing through his veins.

He is fighting himself — the part of himself that does not want the pain to stop. Because all Loki knows is pain, and he fears the absence of pain almost as much as he dreads its glorious presence.

Loki raises his head, allowing for the stream of water to bruise his face. And if Loki’s closed eyes leak the occasional tear, no one would know.

______________________________

Loki’s self destructive spiraling is abruptly cut short by three succinct knocks from his bedroom door. Still soaking in the shower, Loki debates whether or not to answer; after all, he truly has no desire to see his brother again today. Or preferably, ever again. Unfortunately, Loki is all too aware that if he does not answer the door to let Thor in, Thor will simply let himself in. And if there’s anything worse than seeing Thor, it will be seeing a displeased Thor while Loki stands nude and wet.

Reluctantly, Loki turns off his shower, changes into his freshly washed ‘sweatpants’, and leisurely walks towards the door. He is honestly surprised Thor hasn’t invited himself in yet. He is more surprised when he finally opens the door and is promptly met with — not Thor’s brutish face, but the goddamned mortal.

She stands there, in front of his door, barely out of arm's reach. Loki can’t help but drink her in. He notices her hair, laying loosely around her face, framing her profile. She’s sporting a sweater, much too warm for the present weather. Its collar is stretched out over years of use, teasing his eyes with a fraction of her collarbones peaking through. Her legs are barely covered by absurdly short shorts, and Loki feels the back of his ears heating up. Hurriedly, he averts his eyes, falling down to her feet, once again hugged by soft looking socks — mismatched.

His scrutinization is interrupted by her voice; so soft.

“Hey! Sorry if I interrupted you. I heard you were in the shower but I was going around taking everyone’s dinner orders. We’re getting Chinese.” She tilts her head to the side, lifting her chin ever-so-slightly, distractedly exposing the tantalizing skin of her neck. She swallows, and Loki’s eyes discreetly follow the bob of her throat. “I was just wondering if you wanted anything?”

It takes a moment for Loki to register her question and another for him to process it. She is going to order dinner? For him? And she is asking him for his preference? Loki has not had the privilege of preferring anything in a long, long time. Damn this mortal.

“I am not familiar with this particular cuisine, nor Midgard’s in particular.”

She meets his eyes then, and only after does it occur to him that her eyes had been previously glued to his abdomen. His abdomen, he realizes which has been bare this entire interaction. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

He forces himself to roll his eyes, running a hand through his still dripping hair to hide the scarlet his ears have surely become. “I am saying that I do not have a preference, woman.”

She lifts her shoulders briefly in a gesture Loki has come to associate with Midgard’s daftness and promptly moves closer to him. Instinctively, Loki takes a step back, then curses himself for doing so. He truly must be losing it, backing away from a defenseless mortal. But she doesn’t push further, instead tilting her head at that angle again, asking him another question.

“Can I come in?”

Loki hesitates. He doesn’t understand her motives, doesn’t know if this is a trick the Avengers have set up or perhaps a test designed by his brother. All he knows is that Angel is staring at him with her eyes wide and innocent and completely devoid of deceit.

Angel must carry magic or Loki must be possessed by the Mind Stone again, for against his will, Loki steps to the side, allowing her to brush past him. The sleeve of her sweater comes into contact with Loki’s stomach, and he jerks away.

Awkwardly, Loki closes his door and turns to face the mortal, noting how hilariously out of place she looks, standing in the midst of Loki’s domain. With a wave of his hand, the previously scattered articles of clothing fly onto his bed, meticulously folding themselves. Angel’s surprised, quiet gasp does not escape his notice. She walks towards his bed, small hand landing on Thor’s sweatshirt.

“Take that when you leave.” Loki internally bristles at his own tone, noticing how Angel’s shoulders locked up when he spoke and did not relax when he stopped. “Please,” he adds.

To his surprise (again), Angel approaches him, sweater in hand. “Why?”

At this, Loki is caught off guard. Without warning, he is overwhelmed by distaste. His patience has been tested over and over again, and he does not have even a drop more to deal with this mortal’s incompetence. His hatred for her rushes back, multiplied a thousandfold. Who does she think she is and why will she not leave Loki alone? Why must she cut short his relaxation, intrude upon his personal space, inquire after him when he knows — he knows — she does so unwillingly? Why is she holding up Thor’s goddamned sweater, pretending not to know why Loki hates it so? As if she doesn’t know it belongs to Thor.

In fact, Loki is positive she is intimately aware of whom it belongs to, undoubtedly so. He hates Angel, hates her for reluctantly offering her help, hates her for her smoothies, hates her for asking him about his preferences. Briefly, he envisions snapping her neck. Effortlessly. But the image makes him recoil, bringing about not satisfaction, but horror.

His fists clench, his broken fingernails once again digging into bruised skin. It costs Loki an immeasurable amount of self control not to simply throw her out, hurl her from his quarters. Instead, he snaps at her.

“Girl, do not test my patience. I am warning you, it has been a very long day and if you do not exit extremely promptly, it will not end well for one of us.”

Loki hates the way her shoulders tense up again, hates the way she physically flinches away at his dismissal.

Loki hates how though he can sense her increasing heartbeat, her nervousness, Angel still looks him in the eye and informs him, in a terrified voice coated with forced calm, “I’m sorry to hear that Loki. I added this sweater into your laundry after it was done, but I should have known it would not have been welcome.”

Loki hates how she then drops her eyes, staring intently at her mismatched socks.

“I’ll just leave your dinner outside.”

Loki hates how she leaves, her hands gripping Thor’s — his — sweatshirt tightly, footsteps moving at a much brisker pace.

Loki hates how Angel closed off, how he closed her off.

Loki hates how Angel clearly did do his laundry.

Loki hates how Angel thought of him, giving him an extra sweatshirt, offering him a choice for dinner.

Loki hates Angel more than he hates Thor, more than he hates Odin.

Loki hates Angel more than he hates the Mad Titan.

The only person Loki hates more than Angel is himself.

Fuck.

______________________________

We don't even ask for happiness, just a little less pain.

- Charles Bukowski

______________________________

Previous Chapter

Taglist: @spacedaddydinn @doct0rstrange

#Loki Laufeyson #loki x reader #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #the hell in your eyes #thiye #loki x you #friends to enemies to lovers #reader insert #loki fic #jouce writes

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tainted-wine · 4 years

Text

(Snapped a pic because I lost the darn ask)

Thank you, anon! She didn’t exactly forget in this case, but bear with me. This crack is basically a happier ending to Spring Bird Survival Guide. It was supposed to be a couple sentences long. I don’t know how it turned into nearly 3,000 words. I...I wrote a whole fic.

....Enjoy?

---------------------------------

(NSFW)

“Why did you stop taking them?” He sounds more confused than you’ve ever heard him, the slight shake in his voice betraying his fear.

You didn’t mean for him to catch you in his bathroom, positive pregnancy test still in your hands. Your plan was to figure out when would be the appropriate time to tell him, assuming that he didn’t catch on to the constant nausea added to your pains. At least this saves you the trouble of keeping secrets.

“Because…the Commission can go fuck themselves.” You take his hand and place it right above your womb, hearing his breath hitch. “Let’s start a family, Keigo.”

Hawks knew that this was beyond stupid. It was stupid of you to put yourself in this position, it was stupid of him to even be considering this, and it was stupid of both of you to attempt such a thing behind the Commission’s back.

But his birdbrain didn’t care about any of that right now.

He pulls you in for a suffocating kiss. “My little hen is about to become a mother hen.” He takes you to bed and claims you out of pure joy.

—————————————

That buzzfood article was frankly right. Mutant bodies didn’t make any sense, and what they could do to other people’s bodies made no friggin sense either. As time passed, not only was his seed growing inside of you at an alarming rate, something felt off. These weren’t the kicks of a single fetus, it felt akin to a strange cluster of objects crammed into your womb, shifting about in a way that sometimes made you shudder.

You haven’t been able to see a doctor at all—Hawks wanted you to stay in his house at all times and away from the public’s eye—so there was no way to properly check, but it didn’t take too many guesses to figure out what was happening.

“You didn’t tell me that I’d lay eggs!”

“I didn’t know!” Hawks swears that he didn’t hatch out of an egg himself and had no way of predicting this.

The development of the eggs only took about a month. When it was time to birth them…

“I hate you! God, I hate you so fucking much for putting me through this!” You screamed in pure agony as tears streamed down your face, using every ounce of strength in your body to keep pushing.

Hawks was kneeling between your legs, caressing your thighs lovingly as he watched his offspring’s vessels emerge from your stretched hole. “I’m sorry, baby. You can chew me out all you want later, alright? Just keep pushing. You’re doing great.” Oh fuck him. Fuck him and all of his comfort, making you do this on his own bed, without the security of doctors who actually know how to do this properly. Squeezing out three baby-sized eggs was like a temporary vacation in hell.

Once the eggs were all brought into the world, Hawks wrapped them up in blankets and placed them under a lamp. He knew that there were actual incubators for couples like the two of you, but he’d rather keep them cozy with his personal belongings instead of some lifeless factory-made device.

“I’m not farming chickens that I’ll eat later. These are our kids.”

You’ve been too exhausted to argue, having lost a frightening portion of your body weight. Hawks was having a little too much fun in gorging you, trying to hand-feed you meats of all kinds.

Another month goes by, and you think something must be wrong because those eggs shouldn’t be cracking already, right? But amazingly, you watch as gooey newborns flail about until they have fully broken out of their protective shells. Hawks sadly missed the hatching, but when he comes home and sees his three sons for the first time, he cries.

Somehow, you’re still surprised when they grow quickly. It was concerning. Is that healthy? Three more months pass, and all three of them have fully feathered wings. Hawks teaches them how to fly and use their quirks, and they learn with carefree laughs and smiles on their faces. Healthy or not, you’re going to do everything you can to keep these little fledglings happy.

—————————————

“Let’s have more.”

Your eyes nearly pop out. “More? Already?”

You both sit on the roof of the house, your three boys chasing each other across the starry sky. Both of you have to always remind them to stay quiet and within Mommy and Daddy’s sight when they play outside.

Hawks places his hand over yours. “They could use some more siblings, don’t you think? I’ve got more than enough to provide for them.”

It sounds stupid. Doing any of this was stupid, honestly, and you’re not looking forward to carrying more of his eggs. Yet, a simpler part of your mind wanted this, to take as many of his children as possible, and you decided to listen to it.

“Alright.”

—————————————

The Commission was destined to find out sooner or later, though you’re not sure how. You were eventually fired after your long absence that you refused to give them an explanation for. It’s possible that they still managed to spot your kids while they were outdoors, despite you and Hawks’s many precautions.

You were watching your new clutch of eggs—four of them this time—when the winged hero arrived, the features on his face pressed into a tranquil fury that made you shiver.

“He wanted to take them,” he said lowly through gritted teeth. “He wanted to take our kids and turn them into heroes. Into fucking weapons.”

You held him, feeling his anger ebb with your soothing rubs across his back, right between the base of his wings. “What do we do? We can’t hide from them. You can’t talk them out of anything. Oh god, Keigo, what do we do?” You felt completely helpless, knowing that you couldn’t stop them if they decided to take your little angels away.

Hawks looked to the pile of sleeping boys, having worn themselves out after a hyper game of tag that required you to keep a close eye to ensure they didn’t break anything. At just a little less than a year old, they could be mistaken for being around the age of ten. “They’re really skilled fliers already, aren’t they? Even have great control of their feathers.” He nodded to himself, lost in his own head. “Yeah...I’ll show them weapons.”

The sinister air around him was scaring you. “Keigo?”

His face returned to a cheerful smile as he planted a kiss on your head. “Don’t worry, mother hen. I’ve got this under control.”

“But what about the deputy? He’s going to come for our kids!”

You felt his whole body shake from his deep chuckle. “No he’s not.”

And that’s when you noticed it. The dried specks of reddish-brown on his jacket, almost like a splatter. Blood.

“I killed him.”

—————————————

It won’t be long before the Commission goes after Hawks for killing one of their own, so he wasn’t going to give them time to plan.

You didn’t appreciate him taking the kids behind your back, and you had no idea what danger he was putting them in until you heard the news.

The Hero Public Safety Commission HQ had been attacked and overwhelmed.

—————————————

By the time your second clutch hatched, Hawks already had full control of what was once the HPSC. He gave you a tour through the remodeled building, your kids roaming the halls excitedly as if they didn’t just overthrow an entire organization. Some of the employees greeted you warmly, some gave forced smiles. One of them bowed respectfully with a twitchy grin.

“I’m happy to be a part of the Hawks Hero Force, ma’am. We are going to make great changes.”

You...didn’t know what to say to that.

You stuck to raising your kids while Hawks did whatever diabolical shit he was doing, but it was hard to ignore the growing tension in the city. He and his kids have been holding off opposing heroes for weeks, all of them trying and failing to bring down the rising power of the number two hero. You saw the debates on television. People were arguing whether the dissolution of the Commission was for Japan’s benefit and that Hawks should be supported, or question if Hawks should be trusted at all for disposing of the very people that got him where he is today. What was even his game plan?

You didn’t care much yourself. The only insight Hawks has given you was that he was setting up a city that would be safe for all of his children. Sounds good enough to you.

In just a few more months, your other four kids were eager to join their father’s cause. You and Hawks no longer mention the rapid growth of your offspring...and the short lifespans they likely possess. There was no point in letting those fears resurface.

You hug them all, telling them to visit Mommy on weekends and always keep their feathers clean and sharp for battle.

“Don’t worry, Mommy! We’re gonna teach those heroes not to defy Dad!”

—————————————

The part of the HQ building Hawks led you to was like a bizarre fusion of a love hotel room and a nursery. It was such a strange setup, that you almost forgot to question the young lady that has been following him around.

He gives her a few pats on the shoulder. “This here is Hina, one of my most loyal followers. She’s been on my side since the beginning.” Hina gives a polite smile and bows in your direction.

And then Hawks lays it all on you. How he wants kids at a quicker rate, and his female supporters would be perfect for this...you’re dumbstruck. Your belly was already swelling with his potent seed for the third time, and somehow that wasn’t enough?

“I promise you there’s nothing else to it. Isn’t that right, Hina?”

The woman stood tall and nodded. “I’m only here to help Hawks in his cause.”

Hawks gave her an approving smile before turning back to you. “And if you’re not convinced, just stick around. I welcome the audience.”

The suggestion catches you so off-guard that you agree to it. You take a seat on one of the beds (holy shit this was a goddamn breeding room) and watch him and Hina settle on one right next to you.

“All fours, missy.” Hina obeys his command and prepares herself on her hands and knees.

You watch. You watch Hawks rub her moistened folds while stroking himself until fully erect. You watch him slowly push in, hearing the sharp intake of breath from Hina. He stays at a moderate pace, holding her hips and gently rocking her with his thrusts. It’s…odd, watching the men you’ve had seven (so far) children with take another woman to bear more.

The girl that was a complete stranger to you was sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, but that still wasn’t enough to hold back her moans. Still, it was hard to pay attention to her, because Hawks’s eyes were locked onto yours. Even as his breaths and movements quickened, even as Hina began to shake and collapse onto her elbows as she reached her climax, he never tore his gaze away from you. He finally did when his eyes shut tightly as he buried himself balls-deep into his dear follower, blessing her with several spurts of his sperm into her welcoming womb.

You couldn’t help but rub your own belly at the sight.

He unfolded the sheets and helped the dazed woman get settled into the bed. “You should get cleaned up later, but for now, just rest.” He said softly.

Hina mumbled nonsense, already half-asleep.

Hawks straightened himself out before walking over to you, excited to rub the stomach that cradled his chicks. “I’m gonna give you all the children you could ever want, baby. And remember,” he gave you a kiss of pure love and passion. “I’ll always only have eyes for you.”

You smiled and hugged him tightly. All of the children in the world…Keigo’s children. “Sounds perfect.”

“Soon, I’ll have all of these beds filled.”

—————————————

Hawks and his children have amazingly lowered Fukuoka’s crime rate by a significant amount. You never imagined living in such a peaceful time. You didn’t understand the interviews and articles, the ones that expressed fear and outrage over being attacked by winged individuals for doing anything that can be perceived as villainous. There were heroes still trying to destroy the Hawks Hero Force, creating alliances of their own to face this new dominating power. They were usually taken care of pretty quickly—all it takes is a flurry of sharp feathers from several pairs of wings to crush the foolish rebels.

You don’t understand why they resisted so much. All they had to do to avoid Hawks’s wrath was be a law-abiding citizen, and also not harm his kids. Oh yeah, anyone—hero or not—that made the mistake of injuring you and your man’s angels had this weird habit of…disappearing.

You had about fifty of them by now. Fifty winged beauties that keep the peace with proud and innocent smiles. Not all of them were yours—they had many mothers now—but you treated them all like your own.

One would expect Hawks to start losing track of his precious eyases, but he remembers every single one of them like they hatched yesterday. Each name…every voice…every face…he didn’t forget any of them, and loved them all equally. When they weren’t enforcing laws, they were cuddling and playing with their father or mothers.

You wandered through the incubation room, looking over the many nests that held your future. The mothers-in-the-making were resting in their beds next door, their bellies growing each day.

This is what paradise looked like.

—————————————

3 years later...

Buzzfood.com

(NOTICE: Buzzfood would like to remind citizens that next Saturday is Skewer Saturday of this month. Please be prepared to offer a chicken skewer to any descendants of Hawks that are currently residing in your neighborhood. If you need help searching for the best skewers to purchase in your area, take a look at our recommended restaurants here. Citizens that do not participate in Skewer Saturday will be taken in by the Hawks Hero Force and punished accordingly. Show your appreciation for our crime-free country!)

Great Hawks Celebrates His 1000th Child

By Yuki Burushito

Another great day in Fukuoka! But this day in particular just might be the greatest day yet! Why, you ask? Our beloved leader Hawks has brought his thousandth child into the world! A public ceremony was held to welcome this beautiful girl on this earth and, more importantly, this blessed country. Hawks and his wife were in tears, and I must say, seeing this vulnerability from such a powerful man moved me like nothing else. May your precious daughter one day join her brothers and sisters in the eternal battle of keeping the peace!

Speaking of peace, we must not forget that even though Japan is enjoying its best years in history, our peace is still being threatened every day. There are villain groups lurking in your city’s slimy cracks, plotting to destroy everything Hawks has worked so hard to create. They even have the audacity to call themselves heroes. We all know that the only heroes needed today are the noble winged ones that fight to keep us safe and comfortable. One group in particular insists on giving Hawks a hard time whenever they can: the One For All Alliance. The majority of the members in this gang are former students and teachers from the now-defunct U.A. High School. Their influence may be spreading, but our love and support for Hawks will always smother their poisonous lies!

We must do our part in ensuring that Japan retains its place as the World’s Paradise!

—————————————

You find him on the roof of his house, watching your three eldest boys fly freely as the orange dawn painted the city’s skyline. Only three years old, yet their bodies were strong and hardened, one of them sporting facial hair similar to their father’s.

He of course panics and scolds you when he spots you trying to climb with your bulging stomach. You only roll your eyes as he helps you up. You’ve gone through this reproductive process more than enough times to know your body’s limits.

“They wanted to reminisce for a while,” Hawks explains, back to watching the playful flights. “They make three years sound like it was ages ago. Then again…” His proud gleam twisted into something sadder, his mind entering that dark pit he tries so hard to avoid.

You cover one of his hands with yours. “No matter how long they have, we’re going to keep working to make sure they enjoy every minute of their life. You’ve given so much to all of your children. Be proud of how great of a father you are.”

The smile he gives is soft and warm. You’ve been seeing those more than his cocky smirks lately.

The sun continues to rise as you both kiss under its morning rays, lost in each other’s love. He only pulls back to speak again. “How about we gather some of the youngsters for a trip to the amusement park? It’s been a while.”

You can’t hide your worry at the suggestion. “Are you sure? Villains love to strike when you’re not active.

He gave a smug grin. Ah, there’s the old him. “They do, and they still get their asses kicked. My kids can handle it. I’ve got all the free time in the world, my little hen.” He holds you close and you both return to watching your darlings fly.

“More free time than I know what to do with.”

#asks #bnha #hawks #smut #barely #hawks x reader #crack taken kinda seriously

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hobbitsnapes · 3 years

Text

the elf in the café chapter 7

A corpse husband story

(I do not own this photo, nor do I know where it originated from. All credit goes to the artist.)

Summary: Never in his life, did he think going to a cafe and meeting a Harry Potter nerd could change his life. (I’m shit at summaries

A/N: H/N means his name, being that we don’t know what his actual name is currently

As the clock struck 12, dread filled him. This was honestly one of the days he looked the least forward to, having been for years now.

It was his birthday, a day that would call for celebration, had become a day of forgetting and dread in the last few years. He can’t even remember the last time he celebrated it. He thought of it as any other day of the year, and hoped nobody in his life would remember it. He just hoped the same would go for this year.

He was just making himself a sandwich when his phone rang, his heart dropping to the pit of his stomach. He knew the ringtone like it was a call from death itself. Having changed it years ago so he wouldn’t assume it was anymore else.

He sucked in a large intake of air before pressing the ever so dawning green button.

“Hello?” “Hi H/N.” His heart dropped further at the sound of her voice, having not heard it in a year. “Hi mom.”

“Just wanted to call to wish you a happy birthday.” She says. You could hear how uncomfortable they both were, the hood 10 second pause of pure silence growing thicker by the second as his heart nearly beats out of his chest. “Thanks, appreciate it.” “How have you been?” He can’t help but roll his eyes slightly. She always asks this when she calls him, being that she’s only called him one day a year for years now. “Alright. Just working a lot.” He says, he can’t help but cringe at how uncomfortable he sounds. “That’s good, met anyone special?” He can’t help but cringe further at her question. It was so forced and uncomfortable sounding. “How about we talk about something else.” He hates having to hide her, but he knows if he says anything about her, his mother will try and pry out details about her. And either pretend to be interested in her sons love life, or ridicule him or her, and he doesn’t have the willpower to deal with that.

“Alright well, I’ll talk to you later then.” She sighs, you can hear the level of sadness in her tone. “Alright, see you later.” Hes about to hang up when he hears her again. “Love you H/N.” His heart pangs in his chest as he sucks in air at her words, nearly toppling him over in pain. “You too.” He says, voice cracking considerably. He hangs up before she can reply back, not being able to handle any more interaction with her. Tears fill his eyes and a couple escape, her words ringing in his head as stray tears fall down his cheeks.

The next few hours were a blur to him. Not because he had anything to drink, or any substance to make it that way, but just because he didn’t want to think. He tried his hardest to forget the call, but each time he tried it would get worse. So much worse in fact that he found himself on his couch most of the day, in a state of consciousness and sleep. Trying his best to get rid of not only the pain in his eyes but the pain in his heart.

He must’ve finally passed out because he woke to the sound of someone beside him, making his heart plummet and jump. “Hey hey it’s okay, it’s just me. I tried calling you but you didn’t answer, I’m sorry hun.” Her soothing words broke him out of his panic, making his heart warm for the first time that day.

She placed her palm to his cheek, making him smile as she ran her thumb over his skin. He turned his head into her hand, placing a kiss to her palm. A smile broke out on her face, making him chuckle lightly, placing his much larger one over hers.

Having her there helped his mood considerably, nearly forgetting the entire encounter with his mother. But he again forgot just how smart she was, how she could tell something was off about him. “Hey, what’s going on? You’re not acting like yourself.” His heart falls slightly at her words, turning his head to her, wishing he hadn’t. Concern wrote itself in her face, her eyes pleading with him. Her hand was placed on his thigh, running her thumb over it lightly.

He looks away from her eyes, letting out a large sigh. “Yeah, I Uh, stuff happened today.” Worry fills her at his confession, making her heart drop. “What happened?” He again sighs at her question. It wasn’t that he was afraid of saying it to her, but rather he hated talking about his mother.

“Today, I got a call from my mother. Remember how I said I don’t speak to my family? Well, I left something out. She, only ever calls once a year. On my birthday.” A small gasp leave her at his words, making his heart break slightly. “I didn’t wanna tell you today was my birthday, not because I didn’t want you to know, but because I hate celebrating it. Not only is it just another day, but because that’s the only time I hear from my family. I’m sorry.” His voice slightly cracks at the end, making his head fall.

Her hand grabs a hold on his cheek, lightly turning his face into her chest, his arms wrapping around her securely.

She runs her hands over his back and through his hair, moving her hands from his back to hold his cheek again. Turning his head up to look at her, placing a kiss to his forehead. “It’s alright hun, I understand completely. I’m not mad or even upset. Why don’t you try talking to me about it, and maybe I can try and help if you’d like?” A smile takes over his face at her words, making his heart warm again. He leans up, placing a small kiss to her jaw. “Can we just lay here? This is all the help I need to make this shitty day amazing.” She chuckles at his words, wrapping her arms around him. “Of course, and hey.” He turns his head up at her, “happy birthday.” She says, placing a small kiss to his forehead, making him smile as he buries his head into her neck, making her laugh.

Laughter broke out of both of them, making them nearly cry. They had settled on watching a funny movie tonight, wanting nothing but to laugh as they embrace one another. They settled on grown ups, neither having seen it in years. “He-he licked the dog shit.” He laughed, trying his hardest to form a coherent sentence. “I-I can’t handle this.” She says, reaching for the remote, putting the movie on pause. “Hey, what was that for?” He teases, laughter still apparent in his voice. “I need a break before I piss myself.” She laughs, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“You know, you look really fucking cute today.” He admits, making her duck her head as her cheeks flush. “Thanks, I went and got my haircut a bit this morning.” She chuckles, making him smile. “I can tell, looks almost as beautiful as your face.” He says, making her flush as she hides her face from his eyes. “Awe come on, don’t do that.” He says, reaching over and removing her hands from her face. He plants a few small kisses to her cheeks, making her laugh as he attacks her face.

He had never been like this, so affectionate with her. While he did kiss her face often, he wasn’t ever like this. Neither hadn’t even kissed yet, or made it official. They didn’t want to rush it, wanting to let it happen when they felt it.

She yells out in laughter as he attacks her neck with his lips, pecking the skin over and over, wrapping his arms around her. He can’t help but laugh along with her as he does this, loving every second of hearing her angelic laughter erupt around the room.

It was as if time stopped all together, if the air had drilled, every noise decided to hush, everything was on hold when they looked into one another’s eyes. Their breasts hitting one another softly as their hearts pounded.

His hand held her cheek lightly, feeling the heat against his palm. Neither could break their eyes apart, fearing the moment will be lost as soon as their eyes venture away.

Her breath catches in her throat when his amber eyes gaze down to her lips, his dark lashes casting a faint shadow along his cheeks before meeting his gaze once again.

His palm slowly moves down to the side of her neck, feeling her breath catch, before finally shutting his eyes.

It was as if all pressure that had built up dissipated when their lips finally touched, a deep sigh leaving him as his lips move against hers slowly.

Her hand runs to the side of his face, cupping his cheek as their lips dance. Their body ignites in nerves as their lips card over each other like folded sheets, feeling every ounce of passion and built up emotions cascade over them.

Their lips pull into tight smiles, both trying to fight them off but to no avail. Both pull apart momentarily, small chuckles leaving them before crashing their lips back together.

One hand stays to the back of her neck, while the other smothers down her side, hand flush to the small of her back, guiding both of them back.

Her heart skips at the feel of him pulling her to him, a small gasp leaving her parted lips when she feels him pull her body onto his lap, his hand grabbing a hold of her thigh. His hand clenching the skin, not enough to hurt her, but to feel her skin in his hands as waves of nerves and passion flow through his mind and body, making him nearly shake as his lips envelope hers.

His hand moves from her thigh to her bottom, kneading it as she gasped lightly in his mouth.

And with a hand on her back, he lifted her from the couch, small laughs shared between them as he walked them to his room.

Warmth, that’s all she felt as she woke. Arms wrapped around her, back flush to his chest as she felt his smooth breaths fall against her neck. A soft smile grows on her face, hearing the soft snores he lets out.

Flashes of the night and early hours of the morning play in her mind, making the smile on her face grow along with a warmth in her heart to grow. The feel of his skin gliding along hers, the soft but needy touches of new found skin ignited them both as they explored one another for the first time together. Immense bubbling love and pure bliss and euphoria coursed through them, making their heads spin the entire night. Soft nervous touches turned desperate as the night grew on, confidence and desire growing as each touch was shared between them. Neither wanting to stop.

She turned in his arms, trying her best not to wake the sleeping man. But to no avail, a soft hum broke past his lips, eyes still shut. A soft smile grows on her face, hand reaching up, cupping his cheek. Her thumb runs along his cheek, making his eyes flutter and the corner of his lips turn up. A sigh broke past his lips, eyes finally opening, revealing the dark amber of his eyes as his gaze fell on her. His smile grew on his face, eyes still tired as his gaze captured her.

His hand moved to the back of her neck, slowly closing the small gap between them as his lips fell on hers, moving them softly against hers. Moving his other hand to her outer thigh, pulling it over his hip as he runs his hand up the length of it, lightly grabbing at it as their lips moved in slow harmony.

Their lips broke as they smiled, small puffs of laughter fall against their lips as they hold one another. “Hi” he whispers, lips catching hers again. “Hi” she chuckles, making him smile, pulling her lips back to his.

After what seemed like hours, they pulled apart as she sat up, the chill in the air evident when she pulled away from his warmth.

A yelp broke past her lips as she got up, his hand slapping her bum. A laugh broke out of him as she grabbed it, looking back to him as he clutched his stomach. “That hurt asshole.” She laughed, trying to sound serious but to no avail. “Awe come on honey, I was slapping it way harder last night.” A blush grew on her face at his words, making him laugh harder. “Yes and it’s very sore because of it. Not my fault I’ve got a hank hill ass. Not all of us have a plump ass like you do.” She laughs, making him throw his head back in laughter.

His gaze followed her as she walked over to where they hastily threw their clothes, his eyes taking in her still naked form. Faint bruises lay on her hips, seeing the print of his fingers. Her chest and neck painted with varying depths of love marks, some darker than others. His eyes traveled past her breasts, down to her stomach. The skin was slightly soft, poking out slightly, what caught his attention was the soft lines on stretch marks that were softly drawn along the slightly loose skin. He hadn’t noticed the night prior, not that he cared. Maybe it was just a bit of weight that had been lost overtime, he wasn’t too sure.

A soft smile played on his lips when he watched her throw his shit over herself, the material falling past her thighs, looking more like a short dress on her. His eyes traveled back to hers, a soft smile on her face.

Her eyes fell back to him, feeling his gaze watching her the entire time. She smiled as she looked him over. Hair a curly mess against his pillows, tangled a better word for the strands. Her eyes traveled down to his pale chest, blanket drawn only to his hips. Soft love marks cover his naked form, standing out mostly against his neck. Her eyes moved back to his, her heart fluttering as she looked into them.

She let out a gasp as his arms wrapped around her, his front flushed to her back as she mixed both eggs and peppers together in the pan. His chest shook lightly against her as he chuckled, resting his chin on her shoulder. Moving his head over, kissing the side of her cheek. Her face flushing at the action.

His arms squeezed her tighter, bringing her even closer to him. His lips falling to her neck, kissing the skin lightly. A soft laugh leaves her at this, trying to stir their breakfast to the best of her abilities. “What are you doing?” She chuckles. “What does it look like?” He whispers, biting the skin lightly, making her gasp. “Can I fucking cook our breakfast first you horny bastard!” She laughs, making him pull his head from her neck, laughing profusely.

She cuts the stove off as the eggs are done, not a second after she does, she yells out as he lifts her. He laughs out as he puts her on the counter, a yelp leaving her at the cold marble freezes her naked bum. They both laugh out as they kiss, hands going to his hair in the process. His hands pulling her closer to the edge of the counter, grabbing her thighs as he moved himself between her parted legs, lips moving along hers.

Their heart hammered against one another as they lay in on each other, their skin hot as they pant. Smiles cover their faces as they hold on another, his legs about ready to fall as he still stands at the counter, arms wrapped around her. Their lips meet again, slowly moving as they smile.

Their food was cold by the time they grew the energy to eat, laying against one another on the couch as they silently eat. Soft kisses shared as the minutes go by, their hearts fluttering each time.

Their hearts pained as they hug one another, neither wanting to let go as they stand at the door. She sadly had to head back home, he couldn’t remember the reason she gave, only remembering the pain in his heart as he looked into her eyes.

Their lips meet again, pulling one another closer as they pour every ounce of emotions they’ve felt in the last 24 hours. “Call me when you get back, please?” He mumbles. “Always, I’ll call you before I head to bed too okay?” She says, a smile growing on his lips. “Okay.” He says, kissing her lips again.

He watched as she pulls out the driveway, a smile growing on his face at her small wave. His heart warming in his chest.

#corpse husband imagine #corpse husband fanfic #corpse fic #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband #corpse #corpse x reader #corpse imagines

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inkandpen22 · 3 years

Text

Young Hearts Divided (8/?)

Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader / James Potter x Female!Reader

Warnings: fighting, angst, fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

Part Summary: Y/N and Sirius spend the rest of Hogsmeade day in the Gryffindor Common Room. Then, when everyone gets back things get messy.

Masterlist

Sirius and I sit curled up on the couch of the Common Room. We've been here for the remainder of the afternoon. Once we got back to Hogwarts, all we did was talk. It's as if we haven't seen each other in years and had to rehash everything we've experienced since last we talked. First, we started out on opposite ends of the couch facing one another. Since then, we've moved to lay on the couch with my head on his chest. His warmth and sweet scent engulf me, bringing ease to my mind.

“Have you been able to talk to your parents?” He asks as he runs his fingertips up and down my spine.

“Not since that night in dumbledores office and that was only a letter.” I sigh, “I just don’t know how much more I can take on.”

“I’ll help you through this," he states with utmost certainty. "I will get you through this.”

“There’s no getting through it, only existing," I determine solemnly.

“Then I’ll simply exist with you,” he doesn't hesitate to reply.

Usually, someone would say 'oh don't say such things,' as Lily would. Yet, Sirius simply goes with it. He understands me.

“I would want nothing more." I lift my head to peer up at him. His jet black eyes meet mine with a grin. "To simply be with you is enough happiness to last me a lifetime."

He brushes strands of my hair behind my ear as his eyes scan my face admiringly. “I never believed life with you as possible. I had hoped, but never in my wildest dreams.”

I wrap my arms around him and give Sirius a comforting squeeze. I never wish to let him go.

“You know sometimes I love you so much it hurts. I find myself looking at you and my eyes get glassy," I confess, still in awe of his natural beauty.

“After we graduate we’ll get far away from here, just you and me!” He describes heaven.

“I’m listening,” I encourage him to go.

“You and me. A studio or loft of some sort. It’ll be safe, secure, us.”

I purr, it all sounds so lovely. “We’ll wake up beside each other each morning with the warm sun pouring in. The windows will be cracked and a spring breeze with drape us," I add.

“You have to promise me one thing,” he insinuates with a smirk.

My brow rises, “and what’s that?”

“You won’t go out of your way to defy You-Know-Who," he whispers the last bit hesitantly. "I understand why your family did it, but I can’t risk losing you.”

As much as I love his affection and appreciate his worry, he can't stop the war from affecting me. I've already been touched by it, my brother is missing. Neither of us wants this war to be happening, but it is happening and we can't ignore it.

“Sirius, you can’t expect me not to fight. Besides, I know you plan on joining and so must I," I reason as I gently caress his cheek.

“That’s different!" He huffs. "I can’t lose you!”

“You won’t lose me," I assure him. "Even in death I would be with you and love you.”

He shakes his head, removing my hand from his cheek as he rises up from the couch. “Don’t talk like that. A world without you in it is a world I don’t want to be a part of.”

I watch as he stands to his feet. "Don't you want to help guarantee a right and just world for the future? I can't sit by mindlessly while all of this happens around us!"

"Of course I do," Sirius whines as he paces in front of the fireplace. "But not at the risk of losing you!"

There's an ounce of evident distress in his voice and even that mere amount is a lot from Sirius. I can't imagine losing Sirius. He's my best friend and now with where we are I don't want to risk that.

"I understand," I nod calmly. "But Sirius we have to be realistic."

He stops his pacing and peers at me with awareness. He knows what I'm going to say, likely having thought about it himself.

I state it gently, "you and I have no control over what can happen. I hate it too. I wish I knew that our future will happen, but we don't know for certain. All we can do is live in the moment and hope for the best."

Sirius crosses the room to me and kneels on the rug before me. As he rests his head in my lap, I brush my fingers through his hair.

"I hate this," he mumbles.

"Me too," I reply softly. "But at least we have each other now."

He lifts his head to look at me. His eyes are glassy again. They're so pretty, yet I hate seeing him so broken. Now, I see how much this has been bothering him for some time.

"I've always had you," he remarks with a faint smirk. "It was only a matter of time before you realized it too."

I laugh, playfully swatting his arm. Sirius chuckles and lowers his head into my lap again. We rest like this for some time, him on the floor with his head in my lap and me combing through his shoulder-length hair. I lean down plant a kiss on his head. If every day can be just like this, just the two of us. I would be content. If only the world couldn't touch us. ___________________________________ Once dinner time rolls around, Sirius and I decide to just stay in the Common Room, not feeling up to see everyone. Sirius never exactly told me how the others took the news of us leaving Hogsmeade early. He was more focused on getting me back to the castle in a timely manner. So when James and everyone returns, takes me a bit by surprise. He enters the tower like a bat out of Hell and when he sees Sirius resting with his head in my lap, his face changes.

"What's this?!" He gestures to us.

Sirius sighs, slowly rising to his feet.

I switch my gaze between the two in confusion. "James, I-"

"You've got to be kidding me!" James cuts me off to yell at his best friend who's not standing before him.

"Me?" Sirius defends. "What about you?!"

"Guys! Enough!" I fly up from the couch.

Lily, Marlene, and the boys simply watch wide-eyed at the duo shouting at each other. It's exceedingly rare to see Sirius and James fight, but whenever they do it's intense.

"Y/N's right," Sirius states calmly. "Just go away, I'm not going to part of this." He turns to escort me upstairs. "Come on, leads go-"

"No," James grabs Sirius's shoulder and makes him face him. "You made yourself a part of it after you went after my girlfriend!"

"Okay, was never your girlfriend," I interject which goes unnoticed by both of them.

"She loves me, Mate," Sirius smiles at James mockingly. "Always has and always will."

"Oh, so now you speak for her?" James steps forward into Sirius's space.

"Y/N can speak for herself, alright! If only you would listen to her for two seconds!" Sirius shouts, pressing a hand to get his friend to back off.

"I listen to her!" James defends.

"Oh yeah? What's her brother's name?" Sirius challenges.

"D...B..." James stammers. "Why does that matter?!"

“Seriously?” I snicker under my breath.

"How does it not?!" Sirius laughs in disbelief. "Where have you been the last few days?! Oh right, you've been trying to distract yourself from the fact that Lily still isn't in love with you!"

"Fuck off, Black!" James shoves Sirius and he stumbles into me accidentally.

Remus and Peter step forward to intervene but before they can reach the two, Sirius charges at James.

"Go fuck yourself, Potter!"

I watch as everything moves in slow motion. The two best friends fall to the rug, Sirius on top of James. They start to wrestle, clawing and punch.

"Boys! Stop it!" I shout.

________________

Masterlist

Tags: @hannah220506 @girlwholovescoffee @a-classic-eye @devilstradegy @blackbirddaredevil23 @blackbirddaredevil23 @tay-mariee @blackpinkdolan @findzelda @emilianamason @loonyslytherin

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djemsostylist · 3 years

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I’ve had this post brewing for a while, and every episode I put it on the back burner, but this one more than any made me think it might be time to just get it all out.

Because this episode, more than any of the others, illustrates how utterly and completely alone Eda and Serkan are without each other. They are surrounded by people, but all they ever really have is each other. And I think, fundamentally, it comes down to the fact and Eda and Serkan bear the emotional weight for both of their respective friend and family groups.

I think in a lot of groups, there is one person who seems to be the emotional center. They are the ones who are seemingly the strongest, most put together, and ultimately, have the fewest “problems”. For Serkan, this is truer than Eda, who at least seems to always have the support of the girls when she asks. But they are both, ultimately, the emotional and social of both of their groups, while really only having each other for support.

Serkan:

The loss of Serkan’s brother elevates his position to both his parents. (I’m going out on a limb and assuming, based on pictorial evidence, that Serkan was an ‘oops’ baby. His older brother looks to be in his mid 20s in all their photos, making him anywhere from 10-15 years older than Serkan.) To his father he bears the weight of a legacy he was never supposed to have. He must be the future of the Bolat line, the perfect son, the consummate business man. To Aydan, he is quite literally her entire world. With being unable to leave her house, Aydan builds her entire life around Serkan. He is her only source of human interaction outside of Seyfi. Serkan moves home so that he can be there to support his mother, but he also brings her the social and work interactions she craves but no longer has. He works from home often enough that his mom can come over and interact with his friends, she calls all of his employees regularly. He bears the weight of both of his parents emotions, hopes, dreams and expectations. Aydan says it to him after the whole thing with Eda’s parent’s is revealed--sometimes one person has to bear the weight of the family.

With his friends, Serkan is nominally one of 3 bosses in the business, but as Erdem says, what Serkan says, goes. I love both Engin and Piril, but neither of them have an ounce of backbone. Engin listens to Serkan and offers advice, but he’s ultimately spineless--he’ll never actually challenge Serkan on anything, even when it’s warranted. He takes everything so incredibly passively, and that goes for when Serkan is hurting too. Piril seems to like Serkan at the distance he stays, and their relationship seems mostly professional, although she is clearly one of his closest friends.

And Selin, of course, never knew or understood him. I think this is why he is so drawn to Eda. To everyone else, when Serkan says “I’m fine” or “leave me alone” they listen. They shrug and go “okay sure” but Eda never has and never does. She sees past the façade of “I’m a perfectly infallible person who never has any problems” and pushes him when he needs to be pushed, challenges him when he needs to be challenged, and doesn’t listen and walk away when he says “I’m fine.” I think a lot about episodes 15-17 Serkan, and how utterly bizarre it is that everyone just sort of shrugs at him. He literally goes from his happiest ever--he’s planning a move to Italy to be with a girl he loves, and while it’s never entirely clear who actually knows this plan, Leyla certainly does, which means it’s likely Engin and Piril do too. So you have a man go from happy and in love to breaking up with his girlfriend, making a career ruining mistake, withdrawing completely, and everyone is just like, “wow. shame.” Engin is like “gee buddy, you must be really upset about Eda to have done this” and the second Serkan snaps at him he runs away. It’s Eda who literally holds him and tells him she will never leave him, never give up on him, will always be there for him. Or take his panic attack in 11. Aydan tiptoes around him, Selin offers to have Seyfi make him tea and leaves when he says go--and I guess Engin and Piril don’t question anything when leaves the office looking like he wants to die. It’s Eda who holds him, Eda who stays. Always.

Never is this more evident than in 29. Serkan is literally traumatized--he suffers from memory loss, brain damage, and apparently back pain that may also be affecting his hand. And when he calls (or Selin) his mom and says ‘don’t come’ Aydan’s response is to...not. She just goes “well he said not to” so she doesn’t. She leaves him there, alone, with someone she knows her son doesn’t love or even care for, because once again, she doesn’t care. It’s all about her. She wants her son back, so she is going to take the shell. And then he comes back and his friends are like “oh, damn, can’t believe you forgot Eda, do you want to remember” and when he says no, they are like, “oh, okay.” They don’t even push Selin about her manipulation, other than to be like “but he loved Eda.” Does Engin even talk to her? Aydan certainly says nothing. And they are literally just going to stand by apparently while he gets engaged to Selin and just mutter under their breath. Once again, Eda is the only one who really cares, who knows his heart, who believes he can come back. The others seem content with the Serkan they have, because at least they have the part they want. I mean, Piril and Engin don’t even appear to have been running the company in his absence, that seems to have fallen on Eda as well. Once again, Serkan is at his lowest point, and the only person who seems to care is Eda.

Eda:

Eda is, quite literally, the glue that holds her found family together. Other than work, the girls seem to have no life outside of Eda really. And sure, part of that is the restraints of the show, but it also seems pretty believable.

Ayfer, like Aydan, has her entire life and identity wrapped up in Eda. Other than work, Ayfer’s entirely life is Eda--and Eda’s friends. She had no life of her own. And Eda, for the most part, does nothing to challenge this. Sure, she wants to go to Italy for a year, and Ayfer seems to encourage it. But judging how absolutely lost Ayfer looks when she does leave, I think it’s safe to say Ayfer was at least a little bit relieved when Eda lost the scholarship.

So when Eda gets with Serkan, Ayfer is SHOOK. Because here is a person who, quite possibly, can take her away. (Let’s be honest, Cenk was not a worry here). And not that Serkan would keep her from being with Ayfer, but Serkan does very much become the most important person in her life, and I think that is the root of why Ayfer hates him so much (and why Aydan didn’t like Eda either in the beginning). Ayfer isn’t sure how to function without Eda, and she also isn’t used to having Eda be so independent. She likes when Eda does what Ayfer wants, and that is mostly what Eda does.

Ayfer, and the girls, also handle Eda much like Serkan’s friends handle him. They listen, and offer the occasional advice, but they don’t push, they don’t challenge. Ayfer just says “no” to her relationship with Serkan, but that isn’t support, that’s wanting control.

When it comes to support, the girls at least are better. They are better than Engin and Piril, and they certainly always have Eda’s back, but they also usually need her to ask first. And without her guidance--they are sort of lost tbh. They are certainly miles ahead of Serkan’s friends, but still lack the ability to do things independent of help.

Ayfer, is of course, utterly useless. Episode 29 is, quite literally, the first time we see her truly support Eda since maybe episode 10? Or earlier? It’s a welcome change, and hopefully one that stays going forward...maybe?

But then look at all of Eda’s past traumas. They affect her, physically. Her fainting thing could actually cause very serious injury--how many times has Serkan saved her from face planting on concrete? And Ayfer is always like “well, that’s our Eda” when Serkan from the very first is like “yeah, this is very much not normal and I’d like to help.” Even with her claustrophobia. Ayfer and the others shrug it off as an Edaism, but Serkan is the one who wants to help.

I guess my point is, Serkan and Eda seem to have a lot of support. They seem to have people who are there for them. But especially for Serkan, it’s an illusion. It’s not real and when it matters, they don’t really have the support. Serkan said, as he was leaving, that he was leaving things safe and with trusted people until he could come back for them (Eda and the wedding). And the people he trusted most weren’t there when they needed them. At all.

I hope going forward that this is something that is addressed. That when Serkan need people the most, all he had was Eda. That they both need for other people to take on their emotional and mental burdens sometimes. And that found families only work if they are actually there, through thick and thin. Not just the good times, but all the times.

I want Serkan to come back to himself, and then I need him and Eda to quit Art Life, leave the holding to Ferit, move to Italy or France, start their own company, and not let anyone but Ferit, Ceren, and Melo visit. For a long time. And Seyfi. he can quit working for Aydan and become a nanny to their kids.

#sen çal kapımı #serkan bolat #eda yıldız #Edser #this is just me rambling #but yeah anyway #i know what it's like to be the one that always seems okay #and how it feels when people see that you aren't #and care enough to ask

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eeriefeelingsat3amuwu · 3 years

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My lovelies, this is probs the best thing that we (me and my sister) ever came up with when sleep-deprived and creative. Me and my sis were watching Blood of Zeus on Netflix and síce we’re really into the Greek Mythology, we started thinking of random headcanons on the gods. And this is what we came up with:

Zeus:

the oldest sibling, the younger ones call him Big Z

actually very loyal to Hera, would never cheat on her and all of his ‘maidens’ were actually chosen by disaster bisexual Hera

loves cleaning, is very pedantic

is the only one who knows about the real images of all the gods

a great husband, but a terrible father, seriously, don’t leave your child with him

loves his little brothers to death, even if they fight a lot

Hades:

the middle sibling, nickname is ‘Hadie’, Poseidon loves him, Zeus cares for him very much

is a very loving husband, he gives Persephone everything she could desire

since he rarely chooses sides, whenever the other gods are fighting, he and Persephone have date nights, play with Cerberos (he’s seriously a big puppy) or talk to the dead heroes in Elysium

Charon is his best brooo, parties in Tartaros, he even gives Hades and Persephone romantic boat rides along the river for date nights

Poseidon:

the youngest, must be protected even if he doesn’t need protection, has two nicknames: Pony (for joking around and picking at him) and Donie (loving nickname used when talking normaly)

May be the god of the seas, but he can’t swim at all, his older brothers tried to teach him one day and it ended with him almost drowning in a meter deep pool

is really adventurous and traves a lot, if you’re not sure where he is, try either a few California beaches or some historical cities in Europe

is the good dad™️, he takes care of the Zeus children comming in every once in a while and they absolutely LOVE him

both him and Hades are great with kids, but Hades has a wife, so he’s more of a cool uncle then a dad

DAD JOKES

Aphrodite:

you’d be surprised, but she does not spend her free time practising makeup and doing yoga; most of the time, while not in public she downs some oversized hoodie and sweatpants and either sleeps, lifts weights or bingewatches Netflix shows and eats chips

except for Zeus, only Appolo and Ares know this, not even her son is aware of it

Appolo found out when he went to borrow her curling iron and she opened the door without thinking (she was just eating a corndog and when she saw the look Appolo gave her, she slammed the door in his face while screaming ‘if you tell anyone you’re dead’)

Ares is a different story, she actually showed him and they accidentaly became best friends

she can’t sleep at her house since they could find out and so she sleeps over at houses of other gods when she knows they’re not there

Ares:

is actually very peaceful, hates fighting and it’s kinda killing him that it’s his job to be a bloodthirsty warmonger

whenever he can, he drops the act and is just a sweetheart

loves bunnies and has quite a few of them

Aphrodite was sleeping in his house one time because he was supposed to be fighting a war somewhere, but what she didn’t know was that he returns to feed and play with his bunnies every two days (no it’s not animal abuse, he leaves them both food and water whenever he’s supposed to go away and he returns only to calm himself down and make sure that everything’s working as it should) and he returned the day she was sleeping there; she went downstairs as to leave and found out about the bunnies

that’s how they became best friends

his house, to the other gods, looks like some sort of an arena with weapons and spikes all around, but as soon as they leave, he re-decorates and after that it looks like Demeter’s garden

Demeter:

she has alergies

like, a lot

she hates flowers and grass and just every single damn plant because it makes her eyes water and itch, it makes her nose runny and it just puts her in a shitty mood

but because of her profession, she has to decorate her home with them whenever someone is comming over

then she holes up in her house for two weeks until her alergies pass and starts again

Hephaistos:

he hates warmth

yes, he lives in a volcano, but he’s not fireproof, thank you very much

he’d rather do anything else OTHER then what he does because it’s so hot, but he loves his job and so he continues on with it

every once in a while he disguises himself as a human and goes to the show Forged in Fire (he always wins)

Eros:

he loves his job and everything that comes with it

the only little bit weird thing is how invested he gets into the love stories he creates with his arrows

he cries whenever the story has a happy ending and is just all in all a very senstive soul with an undying love for romance

he is so devoted to Psyche that had she asked him to, he would rip off his wings and give them to her

Now, we have the gay friend group:

Athena:

tired™️, always on coffee 24/7, if not, you don’t want to talk to her

curses, is angry and totaly not calm and colected, just chaotic neutral energy

a prankster, along with Hermes

the mom friend, makes sure the rest of the group doesn’t die or kill each other

smart and witty, but doesn’t give two fucks about anything, burned out gifted kid

eyerolls, glares and ‘tsk’s are a must

she WILL make you feel pathetic if she wants to

likes baking

Hermes:

without his shoes, he can’t run to save his life

you’d think ‘Oh, a Greek god, he must be ripped under that Toga!’ but no, he’s a fucking stick; no abs, no biceps, no nothing, just a STICK

can’t exercise, can’t lift anything heavier then a teapot, just...weak baby

living and breathing ADHD

stimming, never paying attention, figet things, hyperfixations, just...

a trickster along with Athena, they are sneaky and they always know what to do to get the best reaction out of every single god

Appolo:

loves to create songs, both lyrics and music, but...a bit different genre

just...heavy metal, rock, rap, he’s just going WITH it dude

also loves the goth aesthetic

plays the guitar, electric one tho

he diguises it as his lyre

Artemis is his eyes in ears for when he needs to change the tone (when the other gods are comming)

he does actually like poetry and loves to read classics and he thinks Shakespear is THE SHIT™️

the theatre kid

loud

Artemis:

the godess of the hunt, huh?

yeah, she’s a vegan

like, a hardcore vegan

goes to PETA protests every once in a while

fights for animal rights with every ounce of her being

but she’s still the godess of the hunt, so sometimes she needs to kill animals

sooooo, she has anger issues.

deals with them by making Hermes exercise

keeps tabs on every animal she has ever killed and cries over the papers where she’s written it down every once in a while

Okay, this would be it for our headcanons, I may or may not be planning to write a fanfic about them in a modern setting and I’m excited af.

Tagging you guys in belief that you’ll enjoy this:

@definietlynotsatan @a-fandom-trashdump @bla-rese

#greek gods #headcanon #gay friend groups #bffs #wip #aphrodite #athena #appolo #artemis #hephaistos #Zeus #Hades #Poseidon #brothers #Hera #Ares #Persephone #I rly love my sis #we think of the weirdest shit together

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katfox · 4 years

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♡ Happy Birthday Jumin ♡

Characters: Jumin x Fem Mc/Reader

Summary: Surprising Juju on his business trip for his birthday, because sometimes he needs a break. ♡

Word Count: 1450+

Jumin was away on business trip and unfortunately it had to be extended, so he was to spend his birthday away from the love of his life. That was a disappointment to him but he had to get this deal go through. He told you the bad news and you start to brew up an idea. A surprise if you will. Surprising him will be the most amazing gift you could ever give him.

You discuss things with Jaehee about helping you with this special surprise, as much as you didn't want to give her more work. She was willing to make an exception for you and take Elizabeth III as well as setting up a flight for you. To be totally honest, you were slightly afraid of how Jumin would react. Sure he might be happy that you came but also worried that something could've happened to you without him knowing. You were to take at least one guard with you any where you went; that's one rule you take with you.

You pack up before heading to the airport the evening before the big day. You were a bit fatigued from the flight but surprising Jumin was worth it. Its 3am, a knock on the door wakes him before he quizzically answers the knock. "Who is it?", the only reply given was "Sir."

He opens the door thinking it's something urgent, "Is everything alright?" He was looking tired and stressed before you popped out from behind your guard, "Happy Birthday Darling~". His eyes light up as he spots you, he couldn't believe his eyes until you hug him tightly. He let's out a sigh of relief as he holds your body close to his before relieving his guard and taking you into his room. He couldn't help scoop you to in his arms before laying you down and snuggling with you for a few hours as you slept. You wake up naturally to the sun beaming down on your body as the love of your life holds you in his arms.

You turn slightly to face him a bit more before planting the softest kiss on his lips. "Good morning darling, Happy birthday." He wakes up with a smile and peppers kisses all along your neck and chest. You blush and couldn't help but giggle softly as you just relaxed in bed with him. It wouldn't last much longer though, Jumin needed to get ready for his morning meeting.

You didn't want him to go but you know you couldn't stop him either, he really needed this deal to go through and you wanted nothing more than to support him in his endeavors. He kisses you once more before having to leave and he heads out to the meeting. You needed to do something special for him, maybe something he has never really done before. You go down to reception with your guard asking if there was anything going on around locally for a fun time. To your surprise there was a carnival fair going on for the next few nights.

Excitedly you start to head back up to the room, "Careful, Lady Han." You tell Jumin the news about wanting to go out with him tonight and he agrees to do anything that brings a smile to your face. All you can do is wait around and get ready for tonight as the guard stays watch outside the room. Jumin made sure that you eat while he's away, he's always checking up on you to make sure you're well. That's one of the reasons why you love him so much.

He comes home hours later and kisses your forehead as he takes off his jacket. You smile up at him and he couldn't refuse kissing you in that moment, it was soft but hungry. He stops himself before he goes to far and offers to take you out for dinner before you take him for his surprise. So you agree, why not have a romantic dinner with your loving husband. He looks through the clothes that you had packed and picks out your outfit for tonight.

He hands you a little black long sleeved dress and picks out your heels, he couldn't resist bowing down to place them on your feet. You get dressed and slip on a pair of pantyhose for some coverage. Jumin slips on your shoes before changing his shirt and losing the tie for a slightly more casual look. You look at him lovingly wondering how this man is even real. He is the most genuine person you've ever met in your life and you'd be utterly lost without him.

"I've made reservations, Darling. Are you ready to go?" He asks in his sultry deep voice that you love so much, "Of course, Honey." He takes your arm in his and walks you to the car his guards follow around and behind. You always feel so safe by his side, its truly amazing how much this man loves every ounce of you.

The ride to the restaurant was calm as he held your hand in his, kissing it gently. That always made you blush and he knew that, even if the atmosphere was too dark to tell. Once at your destination you go inside with Jumin, him behind you to make sure you make it in safely. You were his number one priority so he'd do anything to make sure that you're safe and sound before thinking of himself. Dinner was nice, nothing too overwhelming as he knew you made plans for him afterwards.

After paying the check he takes you by the hand leading you the car. You tell the driver the location as you start climbing into the car while Jumin follows suit. Getting to the carnival was intriguing Jumin as the lights flashed and twinkled through the car windows. You both get out from the car and start heading in to purchase tickets. The guards needed to be on guard so there was no need for them to have any.

While walking around you both try a few fair treats like cotton candy and ice cream sandwiches to share. You have the guards take plenty of cute photos of you both to remember his birthday. He purchased many small trinkets that had caught your attention. Although having told him that it was his day not yours, he still insisted on spoiling you. You thought it was adorable and couldn't help but love him more, he was so generous even though today wasn't about anything but him.

The atmosphere was colorful and romantic, with a hint of sugar and spice in the air from the concessions stands. As you both walked through the carnival you pass by a fee game stands, a giant cat plush catches Jumins eye. He's determined to win it for you, so you watch as he gives it his all in gun war against those vicious little duckies in a row. You couldn't help but give a loving chuckle watching him try with all his might, but this is the Jumin Han we're talking about. After two tries he manages to get them all winning you the huge cat plushie, it was big enough to sit on.

you hug it tenderly before thanking him with the sweetest kiss. You ask if you can go on one ride before the night is over and he agrees without question. You make your way hand in hand to the big ferris wheel and he helps you in careful before getting in himself. While you're getting comfortable Jumin tips the ride engineer to stop you both at the top for a bit. Your journey to the top was slow, quiet as you rested your head against his shoulder.

You felt so happy, so very lucky to have this man in your life after everything you've been though with each other he still treated you like his queen. The cart stops at the top and you start to grow concerned. His hand squeezes yours gently, with warmth and comfort as he reassures you that this was his idea. You smile and relish this moment in the moonlight under the same sky with the man of your dreams. "I love you, Y/N" "With all I am, I love you too." He kisses you sweetly and tenderly.

After everything you end up going back to the hotel room where Jumin offers to bathe you. You shudder slightly as he tends to get much more intimate when he does. You agree happily to tend to his wishes and the night ends blissfully filled with warmth and pleasure as he thanks you the best way he knows how.~

Thanks for Reading

N.A: I'm a few hours late to post, forgive me I was a little sick but I hope you enjoy it. Im sooooooo sorry if I missed some typos. ♡♡

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saharamae21 · 4 years

Text

Never Ran Smooth (Part 18)

Hey guys! Sorry about the day off, but I took a well deserved me day up the coast and needed to relax!

________________________________________________

No more yielding but a dream

I woke up the next morning surrounded in JJ’s arms. I felt the soft rise and fall of his chest as he slept soundly next to me. His hair was stuck to his face, covering his eyes. I pushed it gently out of the way and caressed his cheek a little. He shifted a little, rolling over on his side more and pulling me even further into his chest. His breathing changed and I felt his lips on the top of my head.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, half asleep still. I smiled and could feel the contentedness in my chest. I greeted him back and closed my eyes, enjoying his warm embrace. I could get so addicted to waking up next to him in the morning.

“Savannah?” I heard a muffle yell from upstairs. I slipped out of JJ’s arms in a panic as I knew my brother had come to check up on me. He groaned as I left his side, but he was too sleepy to get up and stop me from leaving. I grabbed a shirt off of the floor and slipped it on before slipping into the hallway, trying my best to avoid any pain and discomfort. I heard my brother coming down the steps and I shut the bedroom door and leaned against the wall blocking it. “There you are.”

My brother smirked suspiciously at me as soon as we made eye contact. I knew he knew what was going on, but I wasn’t about to give him any satisfaction.

“Morning Jasp,” I said. “I’m feeling a bit better so you don’t need to check up on me today.”

“I can see that,” he said. “How’d you get down here? You could barely walk yesterday.”

“I managed. The couch was uncomfortable,” I said. I could tell he wasn’t buying it, but he just let out a little chuckle. He turned his back on me and began to walk away. I let out a sigh of relief as he made his way back to the stairs.

“Nice shirt, by the way,” he said laughing as he looked over his shoulder. I looked down and saw that the shirt I picked up had, in fact, been JJ’s. I face palmed and silently cursed myself as he left. “Oh, mom’s probably going to come check up on you in about 15 minutes, so you might want to get JJ out of here.”

I wasn’t shocked that he knew. In a sense, this felt like Jasp was giving us his blessing. I smiled to myself and reached for the door. I stopped myself though, feeling nervous all of the sudden. I knew JJ was my person, but was all of this enough for him to think I was his? I gathered all my courage and opened the door. JJ was laying cutely under the sheets, but his head perked up when he heard the door open. His hair was messy and his face was scrunched up as if he had just woken up. I could help smiling when I looked at him.

“You look cute in my shirt,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “Wait, come here.”

I walked over to him and plopped down next to him again. I walked as he leaned back and grabbed his hat from off the bedside table and placed it on my head. He pulled my hair over my shoulders and smiled at me. It was a wholesome smile, a precious one you only share with someone you love.

“We should get you outta here,” I said, remembering my mom would be coming down here in a little bit. I watched as his face fell and he stared at me.

“I thought we were good,” he said softly. I opened my mouth to say something, but he just kept talking. “I’m sorry. You know I didn’t mean it and I’m not good with expressing my emotions. I just want the best for you and I really care about you. I just thought-”

“JJ,” I said, trying to end his rambling. It didn’t work very well though. He just kept going on and on about how sorry he was and it was breaking my heart. I learned forward and pressed my lips gently against his. This was slowly becoming our way of shutting each other up. I pulled away, leaving my forehead pressed against his. “JJ, shut up.”

“I’m in love with you,” JJ said. I felt my heart stop. He couldn’t be any more perfect than at this moment. I blinked my eyes and continued to stare into his. There was no sense of lying and no sense of hesitation. JJ Maybank loved me.

“Savannah?” I heard my mom's voice yell. I cursed under my breath and frantically shoved JJ into the closet. I tried to compose myself as I opened the door and walked out. I greeted my mom awkwardly and noticed her staring at my shirt. I swore repeatedly in my head as I remembered I was still in JJ’s shirt. “I see your following in my footsteps.”

“Sometimes I forget dad was a pogue,” I mumbled. She stared at me with sad eyes.

“He just wants you to grow up better than he did,” she said.

“No, he wants to make sure he never goes back to that life,” I said. I listened as she tried to interject, but none of it mattered to me. “He hates me. Do you know what it’s like to have your parents say they’ll never love them? You dad let you marry a pogue! I can’t even introduce JJ to you guys without the world ending.”

“Where is he?” she asked. I stared at her blankly, unable to process what was going on. Within a minute, she had moved past me and opened the closet door. “Hi, JJ.”

“Mom!” I said, but it was too late. JJ stared uncomfortably from me to my mom and back to me.

“Hi, Mrs. Stryker,” he said, covering his bruises awkwardly. “I’m usually a little more presentable than this. I promise.” I let out a giggle, but JJ shot daggers at me. He wanted to make a good first impression which made my heart swell.

“It’s okay,” my mom said. “Just so you both know, I have no issues with you two dating. I apologize for Nicholas, but give it time and he will come around to it. I just wanted to make sure you were okay Sav. Next time try to hide your boyfriend better.” I felt my jaw drop a little bit as she walked away. When did my mom become cool? I felt JJ slip his arms around my waist and place sloppy kisses in the crook of my neck. I hummed a little bit at the sensation and turned around to face him. I was met with quick and hungry kisses. He planted one and deepened it immediately. My hands unconsciously cupped his face and his hands found his way to the small of my back, pulling me into his chest. The kiss was intoxicating and I found my head going dizzy from the sensation. He shifted one hand to my side, brushing my bruises. I winced hard and pushed him away as my side burned in pain.

“Shit,” JJ said. “I’m so sorry Sav, but can I please take you to the hospital now?”

“I’m fine,” I said. I looked at him and saw the horribly worried look on his face. It immediately tugged on my heartstrings. “Would it make you feel better?”

He nodded and the look on his face said it all. I sighed and took a step towards him, wrapping my arms around his torso. “Fine, I’ll go.”

I sat nervously as JJ drove me to the hospital. I walked up to the front desk and checked myself in. I sat nervously in the waiting room with JJ by my side. I think he could feel my anxiety and slipped his hand into mine. It was good to know that he would be by my side.

After the doctor’s visit, JJ insisted I rested. I had three broken ribs on my left side, but some painkillers should help ease the pain. That pain wasn’t going to stop me from being by his side. We compromised on me coming with him as long as I promised to do nothing, but sit and lie down. I, of course, agreed to his terms and sat comfortably while him and Kie prepared for the gold extraction. I sat carefully as I watched, taking in every moment. Kie and JJ laughed and every ounce of me was happy. This is where I belonged.

No one knew what laid ahead of this moment.

______________________________________________

IMPORTANT:

I want to know what you guys want to come after this fanfic! Do you want a sequel with more JJ and Sav, post show with uncanon events? Or do you a brand new fanfic based on OBX? A new plot and a new main character? Let me know!

Tag List : @jjmaybangme @thebendslikebendover @justcallmesams @jellyfishbeansontoast @obxmxybxnk

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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 4 years

Text

Red - Jaskier x Reader

Summary: The fear of losing the person who means the world to you and a wedding that comes out of it.

Request by: a lovely anon <3 “Can you write a romantic Jaskier x female reader story, where him and the reader get married?” I hope you enjoy it, anon! I put (just a little) drama in there but tried to keep if mainly romantic. Thank you so much for the request, I had a lot of fun writing it!

A/N: You guys gave me so much positive feedback on my last Witcher story so here comes the next! Hope you enjoy it!

Words: 1733 Pairing: Jaskier x Reader Warnings: mention of blood, a little angst and a lot of fluff

“You could have died!” Jaskier paced back and forth, a strained expression on his face. “I could have been in the midst of funeral preparations right now! I could be choosing your tombstone right this moment because of your stubbornness and your apparent lack of survival instincts!”

“Could have, would have,” you mumbled, not looking up at him. Instead you wiped your blade on your cloak. It was ruined anyway, you noticed. Torn apart, covered in dirt and blood – there was no way you’d be able to save it. Damn. This was the second one this week. A heavy sigh left your lips before you got up with a groan. Your whole body was hurting and you felt exhausted, craving a hot bath and something to eat.

“Are you making fun of me?” Jaskier snapped. “Or are you not taking this seriously? Honestly, Y/N, I don’t what’s worse!”

Truth be told, you had never seen him so angry. His arms were flailing around from gesticulating wildly and his face was a deeper shade of red than your favorite kind of wine. However, after being on the hunt for over a day, you had no interest in fighting with him. You wanted to get home.

“And now you’re ignoring me!” Jaskier scoffed. “Geralt!” He turned around to the Witcher who was standing a few feet away, examining Roach for injuries. “Y/N is ignoring me!”

“Can’t blame her,” was the dry reply.

You wanted to smile at that comment but guessed that it wouldn’t be very constructive in the current situation. “Look, Jaskier,” you began. “I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to scare you but you know I can take care of myself.”

Jaskier crossed his arms in front of his chest. “This has nothing to do with taking care of yourself, Y/N. You jumped from a damn tree to land right in their nest while these monsters fed on a bear!”

He was right. It was a dangerous and any other person would probably be dead right about now. However, you weren’t any other person. You were a skilled fighter who knew what she was doing and when to back down from a battle. After all, this wasn’t the first time you accompanied the Witcher on a hunt.

The first time you saw Jaskier and Geralt was less than two years ago when they came to your village, badly wounded and searching for a healer. Your family took care of them, tending to their bruises and cuts and it didn’t take long for you to develop a soft spot for the funny bard who kept cracking jokes even when he was feverish and in pain. Twenty days later and you bargained with the two men to take you with them on their journey. You craved more than a simple life in the small village where their arrival was the most exciting thing in years. While Jaskier was hesitant but secretly loved the idea of keeping you around, Geralt was strictly opposed to it. Well, you followed them anyways and one dead monster later that you saved them from while they were sound asleep made him change his mind. “You can apparently hold a sword, so don’t expect me to come to your rescue if something goes wrong,” Geralt had said grimly later that night. “Handle it yourself.”

The bard and you were inseparable since then, falling in love with each other hard and fast. A life without him seemed like a life not worth living anymore. So it pained you to see how your actions hurt him. You reached forward to take his hands. “Jaskier, I find none of this amusing and I take your concerns were serios,” you assured him. “I can see how this must have been terrifying for you. I’m sorry.”

“Then why do you keep fighting them? Every time you leave with Geralt, I’m scared it’ll be the last time I see you alive,” he sounded more vulnerable now than ever.

A soft smile appeared on your face. “You know why.” After you leaned in to give him a soothing kiss, you whispered: “I love you. I love you so much, Jaskier. I promise you won’t lose my by the hand or paw or claw of any monster.”

“You can’t promise me that, Y/N,” he stated. Yet the tension in his composure gave way and he put his arms around your back.

“I’ll do my best then,” you replied and let him embrace you completely. Being in his arms like this made you feel like home. It was true, Jaskier was your home now. Everything you ever wanted and more. You considered yourself lucky beyond words to be with a man as wonderful as him.

“I love you,” he whispered. “And you ruined my night.”

“What?” You blinked in confusion and looked at him. His left eyebrow was raised and you couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. You had thought, the fight was over.

“I said you ruined my night,” Jaskier repeated himself and pouted a little. “My night and my day. I had so much planned for us. For you.”

“Planned? Why?” Was today important? His birthday maybe? No, that was still months away. You tilted your head slightly, furrowing your brows while desperately trying to remember why today was important.

Suddenly Jaskier let go of you and took a step back. His eyes were focused on the ground as he nervously cleared his throat. “I don’t believe there’ll be a better time. Who knows what monster is lurking behind the next tree.”

At this point, you were thoroughly baffled. “Jas-“

“Y/N,” he cut you off and began rummaging through the pockets of his jacket. When he found the item he was apparently looking for, he paused again. And then he slowly got down on knee.

Oh.

Nervously, Jaskier cleared his throat he second time. When he began speaking, his voice was shaking just a little. „Y/N, I fell in love with you about two seconds after I first laid eyes on you and even though some people –,” he glared in Geralts direction, “– insisted that it was only the fever talking, I knew it wasn’t.”

You looked down and finally realized what laid in the palm of his hand. The most stunning ring on this continent if not the world with a dark red gemstone, reflecting the last sunrays of the day. You swallowed hard.

“I wrote a song for this exact moment,” Jaskier continued and let out a chuckle. “Now, I don’t believe that any lyric, any poetry, can express how I feel for you. Y/N …”

You kept your gaze focused on the man kneeling in front of. Tears dwelled up in your eyes and it took every ounce of willpower in your body to hold them back.

“Y/N, will you marry me and take me as your husband?”

***

The moments after the proposal were a blur. You flung your arms around him while saying “yes” and “of course” and “I love you” over and over. He grinned from ear to ear, pure happiness radiating from him. You kissed. It was a long and passionate kiss and you probably would have stayed there, in the woods, for hours if it weren’t for the tired and slightly-annoyed Witcher standing near you.

“Congratulations, but are you done?”

The both of you broke the kiss and laughed at this question.

“I’m hungry,” Geralt added dryly, ignoring your reaction. However, when you looked at him, you could have sworn you caught him smiling a little.

***

The engagement was shorter than expected. Way shorter. To be specific – it lasted for exactly three hours. Jaskier was right, you thought, why wait any longer? In this world, death was lurking behind every corner. So the two of you decided upon arriving in the small village that you wanted to get married right this evening.

Geralt made the request to at least take a bath beforehand and have something to bite. You agreed with him considering your clothes were still ripped and smelling like blood and intestines.

“No, Jaskier,” you whispered and playfully pushed him back. The two of you stood in front of your room.

“You’re a tease,” your fiancé replied and pulled you in for another kiss. You happily obliged and sighed when he slightly parted his lips. Jaskier pressed himself against your body and you let out a sharp breath when you felt something very hard through the thin fabric of his pants. “Tell me again how you don’t want me to come inside your room,” he mumbled with a husky voice.

“We’re getting married in an hour …”

“So?”

You chuckled. “Have you noticed the way I look?” You gripped him by his collar, softly planting kisses down his neck.

“You’re tormenting me, woman,” he groaned, closing his eyes. A shiver ran down your spine. Oh, how you wanted him to come inside ...

Without another word you swiftly looked back up and planted a last wistful kiss on his lips before quickly disappearing inside your room, locking it from the inside.

“Well,” you heard Jaskier say from the other side of the door. “That is mean.”

“Save it for the wedding night,” you chuckled.

“Oh, I will, darling. Believe me.”

***

One hour later you were standing in front of Jaskier, wearing a bright smile on your face. Your dark red dress matched the beautiful engagement ring on your left hand perfectly. Torches burning brightly around you lit up the night and the smell of wildflowers was still lingering in the air.

The ceremony took place on the outskirts of the village on a small field. It was short and sweet and perfect. To your surprise, Jaskier had found someone to officiate the wedding even at this ungodly hour. There were no guests present, except of course Geralt who – for the first time in quite a while – couldn’t stop smiling. He was happy for the two of you.

Two years ago, you had been living on a farm with your family. A woman who didn’t seem to fit in anywhere until a Witcher and his bard stumbled onto your fields. Today you were looking at your best friend, your greatest love, your soulmate as you promised each other love and a future together. Oh, how the times had changed.

***

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akinnie75 · 4 years

Text

Until Spring (1/2)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Slow Burn, Romance, Angst, Fantasy

Word Count: 17k

Summary: Freesia Island has the greenest Summer, calmest Autumn, and purest Winter. But their Spring has so many flowers that the land itself becomes a rainbow. It’s a place that you’ve always wanted to travel to after hearing the tales of that island. And one day, you finally got to be there in person, but not being forced into an unwanted marriage by the king himself.

“Once upon a time, there were four gods who were in charge of watching over the four seasons of earth: Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. One day, the God of Spring, was on earth when he fell in love with a flower name Freesia. Every day and night, they would see each other, sharing tales, singing, and laughing. Each second they spent was valuable because, deep down, they both knew that time was ticking—that Spring will have to leave once his time on Earth has ended.

“The day came to an end, and eventually the God of Summer came, but without mercy. The sun pierced Freesia, drying her of water. Then came the God of Autumn, deteriorating her once beautiful petals. Lastly, the God of Winter was the most cold-hearted of them all, making Freesia suffer in the freezing temperature.

“When Spring finally returned, he was heartbroken when he discovered that his beloved flower withered to the ruthlessness of the other three seasons. He cried, and cried, and cried. And once he was done, he stood up and wasted no time growing flowers again, in hopes that one day, Freesia would blossom and return.”

By the side of your futon, your mother sits on her knees. With you tucked into bed, your mother is astonished to discover you covered in tears.

Complementing your tears is the sound of cicadas crying. Since the humid summer is here, the house is victim to the moist air. To distract the six-year-old you from the humidity, your mother thought it was best to tell you a story.

“What’s wrong, dear?”

“That’s so sad! Did Spring ever find Freesia?” You ask with an expression that begs for a happy ending.

“No...the God of Spring is still looking for her.”

You look as if you’re about to release a lake’s worth of tears. To prevent that from doing so, your mother hurriedly thinks of anything to soothe you.

“B-but that’s why people of Freesia Island hold the Blossom Festival every first day of Spring! Everyone there feels the same way as you do, so they also want to help Spring find his loved one.”

“Has it worked?”

“I’m not sure, but with the help of thousands of people, I’m certain that they reunited.”

You sigh in relief, and your mother chuckles at your naivety.

“How do you know? Did you see them?”

“No...I’ve never been to Freesia Island, but your father has.”

“Really?!” You sit up from your bed, jumping up and down excitedly. “Is it true that the island changes color every season?”

Your mother nods. “Yup. Your father told me that Summer has fields of green. Autumn has the reddest leaves, and Winter covers the entire land with white snow.”

Your jaw drops, imagining what each season looks like with your limited imagination. Even without a clear picture, it excites you. Born and raised on a tropical island where every season is just hot, you don’t know how it feels like to experience four seasons. You thought that seasons didn’t exist.

“But your father said that the most beautiful season is Spring. There are so many different colors that you lose count of how many colors there are”

You grab your mother’s arm and shake it. “When I get older, let’s go to Freesia Island and help Freesia and Spring find each other again! Please??”

She chuckles. “Sure! Your father is good friends with King Kim, after all. One day, we’ll go, the three of us.”

You’re excited about the future. While thinking about all the things you and your parents are doing, you lay back down, staring at the ceiling made of dried palm tree leaves. In your innocent, little mind, you promise that you’ll be the one to reunite the two lovers. You close your eyes, falling asleep to the sound of the cicadas crying endlessly.

———

SPRING

At the top of a cliffside, you walk in your bare feet, holding a wooden bowl. Inside it is an array of fruits. Standing before you is a tombstone. After stepping closer, you get on your knees, letting the tips of your fingers stroke the name etched onto the stone, spelling your mother’s name.

Below the stone is an empty bowl with rotten fruits. There’s a trail of black ants taking pieces to their colony, and the smell is horrible since it’s been under the scorching sun all day. You brush the ants off, picking it up and replacing it with a new set of colorful fruits.

“Good morning, Mom. Did you sleep well?”

Unsurprisingly, there’s no response.

“These little pests keep taking your food away, huh? Either that or they’re taking it to you somewhere in the afterlife,” You change to a fetal position, your arms hugging your knees as you hold it close to your chest. “Did you know that they just celebrated my eighteenth birthday a few days ago? Dad ate so much roasted pork that he didn’t leave any for me!”

Despite passing away many years ago, you still vividly remember her smile. She was the most beautiful woman ever that you’ll never compare to her.

“I have to tell you what happened yesterday too! It was hilarious.”

You go on for hours, chatting with the stone about your day yesterday. Even though your voice drifted away into the vast jungle, you still spoke like there was another person listening. You strongly believed in a life after death, so you were certain that your mother heard every word.

Sitting next to the tombstone, your shoulder leans on it while you stare off the cliff. From a distance, you can see your small village, and on the side, there are squares of plantations. This is the place that you’ve known since the day you were born. Although it was your childhood dream to wander off the island, you can’t imagine a better place to live in than Pitaya Island.

“The village has changed a lot. Most of the villagers are old, so I have to be the one responsible for physical labor. It’s so tiring! Don’t tell Dad, but I think he’s getting old too..” You whisper.

You chuckle, but it doesn't last long.

“Granny still cries for you, you know? Every year, on your birthday. We all celebrate it…”

You pluck a single grass from the ground, peeling the slim plant in half.

“...But it doesn’t feel like we do. It’s more like...we’re mourning. Even Dad—the toughest man in the entire land—cries,” you turn your head at the stone, smiling. “I try not to cry. I’m going to become the next ruler of this land, right? I have to show the people what I’m made of.”

You lay down, not noticing that the ants have now claimed the fresh fruits. You drown yourself to the sound of birds humming melodies and bushes being brushed against the wind. With the blazing sun beaming, you put your hand over it, casting a shadow over your face.

Your throat is dry from all the talking, but you still want to say more. You knew your mother only for a few years, but you two had a close relationship. You told her everything, and it felt like she told you everything. Even now after she’s dead, she’s the one who you talk to the most.

“Hey...Mom...sometimes I wish you can respond to me. I know I said that before...but whenever I talk to you, I feel like I’m going insane. I think for once...I’d like to hear your voice one more time.”

You’re silent for a few seconds, not shocked that your wish won't come true. You scoff at your outrageous wish. It isn’t like a dead person can answer you.

That’s when you hear the sound of someone shouting. You sit up, staring at your mother’s grave, thinking that she came back to life. However, the scream was too far for it to be your mother. It was almost like an echo.

You stare straight at your village, discovering that the source of the shout came from there. You hadn’t noticed it before, but you see the villagers running about and shouting. Instantaneously, you knew that there was something happening. You’re quick to your feet, sprinting down the hill as fast as you can.

———

Once you make it back, you glide behind a tree, your back hitting against the trunk. You peer over to see what the commotion is. There’s a group of foreigners walking about, terrorizing the people. Children are crying and elderly women are screaming. The old men are shaking, unable to move from their spot. The village has become a wreck, with baskets of fruits and seeds tossed over and huts destroyed.

These foreigners with pale skin and dressed in linen clothes kick those who are crawling on their hands and knees, laughing at their pitiful state. You cover your mouth, petrified to see the sight before you. Just hours ago, your village was in peace, everyone going along their daily lives.

Your hands and knees are trembling, barely being able to stand properly. Your people are in harm’s way, but your cowardice is preventing you from saving them. You’re afraid to get into the crossfire. While no one has spotted you yet, you think it might be the perfect opportunity to escape.

However, your pride reignites when you see your father. The man that you admire the most, fighting against one of the enemies. He and his opponent exchange swings, sparks flying when the blades collide. You root for your father, praying that his massive strength will scare the man away.

But that hope drains in an instant when the man, being younger, swiffer, and stronger than your father, seizes him within seconds. He deflects your father’s swing, putting so much force that the sword goes flying out of his hands. He then kicks your father, making him fall to his knees. To see your father—the who your idol—on his knees in front of the enemy’s feet is an ultimate defeat.

His opponent stares down at your father, not an ounce of sympathy. Even from the distance where you’re at, you can see the hollowness in his eyes. It’s almost as if his eyes are entirely covered with black.

With the last of his pride, your father snarls at the man. There’s an emblem on his shirt, one that you don’t recognize but one he knows too well.

“You…do not deserve to wear the emblem of Freesia.” Your father mutters in anguish.

He growls at the young man, and still, no reaction. It’s just those damp eyes of his, glaring down at him. To end his misery, the man raises his sword, prepared to end his life.

That’s when you couldn’t just stand there any longer. You don’t know where this surge of confidence came from, it might’ve been because you were afraid to lose another precious person, but what you do know is that you have to stop this.

You grab your father’s fallen sword, nearly losing your balance for clumsily picking it up. And just like that, you were successful in making your sword collide with the man’s weapon. You hit so hard that you made a crack in the blade. The man’s sword flies out of his hand, absolutely astonished with what just occurred in those few seconds. You give him a ferocious glare, standing right in between him and your father. Although cracked, you point the tip of the sword directly at his face.

Your sudden appearance makes time itself freeze. Everybody has their eyes on you, waiting for your next move. However, you don’t have another move. You impulsively came out of hiding after seeing your father in danger. You were willing to do anything to protect him, but now you’re stuck in a position where you can lose your life.

To your amazement, the man doesn’t make a second attempt to fight back. He gets into a casual posture, loosening his body and putting his hand to his hip. In contrast to his calm demeanor, your sword still points at his nose.

“I was unaware that the king had a daughter.” The man speaks, but to whom, you don’t know.

You raise an eyebrow, questioning why he would care.

“You’re not just any princess. You have the guts to get in between a fight between two men.” He says with a stoic expression.

“Wh-wh-who are you?!” You attempted but failed to hide your stutter. “L-leave this island at once.”

“(Y/N), what are you doing?! Leave while you still can.” Your father exclaims.

“So your name is (Y/N). A unique one that I’ve never heard of. I am King Jungkook from Freesia Island.”

Freesia…Island? It wasn’t registering immediately, but after giving it some time, your jaw drops at the revelation that this man is the ruler of Freesia. You thought that the people there are kind, including the king. What happened?

“King Jungkook? Where is the former king??” Your father shouts.

“King Kim? My father defeated him in a battle and won, pronounced as king for decades until his late passing, passing the responsibility to me.”

“King Kim…is dead…?” Your father asks in disbelief.

You have no clue what’s unfolding. There’s an untold story that your father kept from you, and you’re itching to know.

Jungkook grabs the blade with his hand. You tighten the grip to keep it raised, but with him wearing a leather glove and being stronger than you, he was able to pull it down in no time.

“You have the courage of a soldier, but there’s no real fierceness in your eyes,” he states. “I did not come here to fight.”

He raises his hands in the air to admit defeat.

“ I came here with the intention to negotiate. It was your people who started it.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsure if this is a trick or if he means it. Your father finally gets back on his feet, pulling you back to protect you.

“What is it that you want? Take it and leave my people alone.”

Jungkook looks around the village, only stopping when his eyes are locked on the plantations of pitaya plants.

“That,” he points. “I want the exotic fruits that you grow. My land has been decreasing in food exports due to lack of rain.”

“And what do we get in exchange for this?”

“Protection. We raided your island without issue. No one, besides you and your daughter, was capable enough to stand against us. And yet, you both failed. There are no walls to defend you people from danger, and I heard rumors that pirates occasionally pay a visit.”

Your father gulps. Jungkook is true, which you find terrifying. How much did he study before coming here? Despite the beauty of this island being isolated from the rest of the mainland, the land consists of only children and elderly people. There have been so many pirate attacks that most people your age have died from risking their lives to protect their loved ones.

“I will extend my military base here, and whenever there is a raid, then there shouldn’t be a problem.”

The fruits grown here is your island’s pride and glory. They are the symbols that make your people stand out from others. To have them conquered by foreigners breaks your heart.

Your father is hesitant to agree with the negotiation. When he looks around, he’s in no position to fight Jungkook again. Even if he was successful in landing a strike on him, is men can group around and kill him. Having no choice but to admit defeat, your father lowers his head.

“I...I acce—”

“And one more thing.”

Jungkook’s gaze turns to you, and a chill runs down your spine.

“To finalize our negotiation and officially connect our two kingdoms together, I’ll also marry (Y/N).”

“What?!” Both you and your father exclaimed in unison.

You beg that it’s only an unfunny joke, but that serious expression of his tells you otherwise. Why take more when he’s already taken what’s important?

“Marriage is to signify an alliance, correct? It’s similar to signing a contract. I’ll take her with me to make sure that you won’t do anything behind my back. In addition to that, I do need someone who knows how to farm these plants on my land.”

“That isn’t a marriage! That’s taking hostage! You’ve already taken more than necessary...but my daughter...she’s the only person valuable I have left.” Your father’s voice cracks.

It’s hard to hear your father sound so weak. He’s trying to stand tall for everyone, but you see his hands shaking.

“Then...are you willing to sacrifice your people for your daughter?”

“That’s enough!” You shout. “This...this is my life that we’re talking about, so it’s me who makes the final decision.”

You look at Jungkook, your bottom lip quivering.

“I...accept.”

Not only your father, but everyone is shocked. It’s a tough decision, but in order to prevent bloodshed, you have to make that difficult choice. It’s against your desires, but you’re not worth the entire village.

Finding this to be an easy victory, especially seeing the advantage he was in, Jungkook picks up his sword from the ground and walks off. “Very well, we will leave tomorrow at dawn. Bring everything valuable to you.”

Your father grabs you by your arms, shaking you. His eyes well up, fighting back the tears upon the devastating realization that not only did he lose his wife, but will lose his daughter too.

“(Y/N), do you understand what you’re saying?! You’ve never gone off this island before!”

You gently brush your father’s hands off, pulling a soft but forced smile. “Dad, it’s okay. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. If it means protecting the villagers, then it’s my responsibility as your daughter to fulfill that duty. Besides, I’ve always wanted to see Freesia Island.”

“But...but not in this circumstance!” He falls to his knees, too ashamed to look up. “I’m sorry...I failed. As king, and as a father.”

You hug him for comfort. “You didn’t fail at anything. You did your best, and I’m glad that you did.”

But underneath these gentle words, you were nervous. Your heart is racing, regret weighing down on you as you secretly beg for a miracle to stop you from leaving. You wanted to leave the island and venture out into the world one day, but with the hopes of returning to your home. Being married to Jungkook could possibly mean that you’ll never see this place ever again, and it gives you a heartache.

While you and your father hug, Jungkook watches from afar. He stares for quite some time, though, no one can decipher what his thoughts are. In the midst of this, the captain of the crew approaches him.

“Your Majesty, is it really alright for you to marry her? You have an array of bachelorettes coming from more powerful kingdoms in line for you. Are you sure you want to marry her just for fruits?”

He traces his eyes to the captain, throwing dagger eyes at him. Goosebumps form on his skin with Jungkook’s looks that could kill.

“It’s not my late father’s choice to pick whoever I marry. Now hurry and prepare the ship for tomorrow.”

“Y-yes, Your Majesty.”

———

Later that evening, Jungkook and his men spend the night on their ship. Meanwhile, you’re sitting on your futon as your maids are helping with sorting out your belongings. Many of them are crying. You’re supposed to be preparing for your departure, but you’re occupied with cheering them up.

“(Y/N), you’re too young. We should’ve done something to prevent this.” One maid cries.

“We’re so sorry we couldn’t do anything.”

“I-it’s okay, really! You all worry about me too much. I’m not a child anymore.”

No matter what you tell them, they won’t listen. You understand that they’re indescribably worried for you, but there’s nothing you can do to change your fate. You wish you can tell them that, but your words are drowned out by their sorrowful cries.

Your father knocks on the door. “Can I come in?”

“Ah, sure.”

“Pardon the intrusion, but I would like to speak to my daughter privately.”

The women wipe their tears, scurrying out the room. Once they all left, your father enters, sitting on the hard wooden ground next to you. His eyes are red and swollen, presumably from crying. Though you try not to show it, it breaks your heart to see your father this emotionally wrecked.

“What is it, Dad?”

“I thought long and hard about the different outcomes that could’ve happened earlier today. There were so many alternatives that could’ve occurred, but no matter the outcomes, I feel like the one you’ve chosen for us was for the best. We are a peaceful colony who strive to find a solution with no bloodshed, and I failed to represent who we are.”

“No, don’t speak of yourself that way! I didn’t do anything special either. Dad, I...I was a coward. I had to fight with myself to finally step in when I could’ve done it with no hesitation.”

“No, you did well, and you are a brave woman, just like your mother. Nobody is born with bravery.”

You choke on your tears, swallowing the urge to let it go. You saw yourself as a failure, just as your father did in himself.

“But...since this is for the better, this is the least that I can do.”

He takes out a necklace, and at the center of it is a black pearl. He puts it on around your neck, brushing your hair behind your ear, doting on his daughter who has become a mature woman.

“This used to belong to your mother. We intended on giving it to you once you got married...at least not like this. It’s an important necklace, passed down through generations. It works as a good luck charm, your past ancestors will watch over you during your journey into the new world.”

“Dad I...Thank you.”

“Promise me that you won’t put yourself in danger and that one day you’ll return.”

You don’t know for sure if you’re going to come back, but your father needs a confirmation, otherwise, he won’t be able to live with himself knowing that he gave his only child to danger. He needs comfort in your words, even if they weren’t authentic.

“I promise.”

He pulls you in for one last hug, unable to hold back the tears. He cries on your shoulder as you pat him on the back. You reassured him that you’ll be fine, despite not knowing what the future holds. While he sobs uncontrollably, you listen to the sound of crickets and night-birds humming, might possibly being the last time you’ll hear this.

———

Before dawn, you trek to the top of the hill with a lantern since it’s still dark, where your mother’s grave stands. With only a spare amount of time left, you wanted to say goodbye to her last. Across from the tombstone, you sit in a fetal position after setting the lantern down. You thought about what to say, but your mind went all sorts of directions that you weren’t able to think of anything.

“So...uhm...I’m getting married...and I’m off to Freesia.”

You suck your lips in, thinking of something else to say.

“It’s kind of funny, Mom. I always dreamed of having a marriage as beautiful as yours and Dad’s. But I’m getting married to a scary man. This guy came to take our food and exchange it for profit. Horrible, right? What’s worse is that this marriage...is just an excuse to hold me hostage and make sure that Dad doesn’t do anything.”

You twindle with your thumbs, your bottom lip quivering. All night you tried not to cry because you dislike crying in front of people, but since you’re alone, you feel like releasing everything.

“I feel like I failed. I said yes so easily that I wish that I put more of a fight. I hate myself because I caved in without even trying. You should’ve seen Dad. He keeps saying that it’s his fault, but he did everything in his power to stop this. I know I should be the one to be crying, but everybody else did. I wanted to pretend that at least I don’t regret my choice...but…”

One tear escapes your eye, and you wipe it as quick as possible. However, that single tear opened the floodgates, and now you can’t stop crying.

“I’m scared...Mom. I don’t want to go. Please, help me.” You hide your face behind your knees, letting everything out. You cry so much that your hiccups hurt.

Unbeknownst to you, Jungkook had followed you closely behind. He’s leaning against a tree, listening to your cries. The way he watches you isn’t apathetically. He heard every word you said, your silent cries for help. Indeed, you showed yourself as a confident woman, but like everybody else, there’s a vulnerable side that you can’t hide.

———

Standing by the edge of the ship, you stare at Freesia Island with curious eyes. No longer in your clothes made for tropical weather, Jungkook has given you a thick, long-sleeved dress that makes you itch. At first, it was unbearable to be in tight clothing, but finding comfort in it after heading north to a colder region.

Hours later, the ship sets ashore by the deck, and your jaw drops by the difference from his kingdom to yours. It’s riddled with pastel-colored buildings, a land as flat as the wooden pier itself. There’s no tree taller than ten feet, and the skies are blanketed by gray clouds. The citizens of this land are wearing the same clothes as you—dull, worn-out woolen cloths.

Simply by the sight of Jungkook is enough to make the people nearby move away, not even darting an eye at him. Already there’s an immediate difference in the people’s mannerisms. It’s only his ship crew that helps drop the ropes and planks for them to get off. None of the men don’t bother with helping you off the ship, and it definitely was a struggle for you since you’ve never ridden anything as gigantic as this.

Sloppily sliding off the rope, the pain from the friction instinctively makes you let go prematurely. You lose balance, landing on your buttocks rather than your feet. The men laugh at your clumsiness, and you snarl in return.

A carriage arrives shortly thereafter. You’ve never seen a horse before, so the presence of what amazes you. Although you were frightened by the horses, you manage to drag yourself inside. Inside the carriage, you and Jungkook sit across from each other, no words exchanged. You’re speechless by the height of the buildings, peering your head out to see if you can spot the top. There were times when your head almost collided into other carriages, but you were quick to save yourself.

While riding through the capital, you’ve never seen so many people before. There are small market stands, selling food and items you’ve never seen before. The streets are so condensed, the volume of the environment being louder than the summer cicadas. Although more industrialized, the air here feels thin, as if the air is combined with smog coming from these unfamiliar metal devices coming from buildings and sidewalks.

But what you were looking forward to the most were the vast plains of endless flowers. Not once did you see it, even though it should be mid-Spring. Where is the blue sky? The green grass? The freesias? It’s building after building, blanketed by a gray sky.

———

Eventually, you two made it to the entrance of the castle, which is beyond your imagination. The castle alone has to be nearly the same size as Pitaya Island. The gate lowers to create a bridge for the carriage to pass through. The walls are as white as the doves that fly over the gate that surrounds the castle, spotless of dirt.

A red carpet has been rolled out for the pair, a continuous line of maids and butlers standing just outside the carpet’s golden line. They bow down once you two walk out of the carriage. For a second, you almost believed that they were dolls—each and every person looking so identical. Not a single wrinkle on their uniforms, and their clothes the exact same.

Jungkook doesn’t wait for you and walks ahead of you. You try to catch up to him, but with the long gown, you accidentally step on the end, causing you to trip and fall face first. Your head spins, and your nose hurts from the impact. When you look up, no one has come forth to help you, not even Jungkook. He simply stares at you, as if telepathically sending you a message to hurry up. You crease your eyebrows and raise your lower lip to sulk. You stand back up and continue to follow him from behind.

———

Once you two made it into the main hall, you were separated from Jungkook, being swarmed by maids and is taken to your private room. They waste no time to prepare for the wedding ceremony. Your clothes are practically torn off, then you are pushed into a marble tub of warm water. One of them tries to take off your pearl necklace, but you refuse to let her touch it. You’re washed, from head to toe, feeling violated as the maids rush to clean you of your dirt. Within seconds, the clear water turns gray from the dirt.

You’re put into your wedding dress that is one size too small. The maids have to force the back zipper up, and with the corset already suffocating you, you have no choice but to suck your belly in more. The maids put on this strange powder-like substance on your face, making your skin paler, your lips so red like a ripe mango and blue matted over your eyelids.

In this dressing room, you sit in front of the makeup stand, unable to recognize yourself in the mirror. You almost touch your face, but it’s immediately slapped by one of the oldest-looking maids.

“Don’t touch your face, Your Highness! It’ll mess the makeup.”

You rub your hand, already feeling the urge to scratch your itchy nose. Your face feels heavy after being caked with powder and paint. By the time you finished, the sun has already begun setting. The day went by so fast, but it still has yet to end, and it ends with your wedding.

“King Jungkook is almost done with his preparation. In a few minutes, we will begin the engagement ceremony.”

You nod, not even listening to half of what she said. You can’t believe that you’re in Freesia, but it doesn’t look like the stories you heard from your parents. It was an absolute disappointment to see a colorless town with soulless people walking the streets.

———

“Once the double doors open and music is on, you’ll walk down the aisle. Make sure that each step you take is light, don’t let anyone hear your steps. Don’t walk too fast to where your veil accidentally exposes your face—it’s only for the king to see. Letting anyone else see is bad luck. Do you understand?”

The elderly maid lectures you for the fourth time, and even still, you’re unclear with the instructions. This is all new to you, confused with why everything has to be precise for one event. To avoid getting yelled at again, you nod your head, letting her know that you understand.

“Good. It’s almost time. Be prepared.” She stands by the side.

You stand in front of the double doors that lead to the throne room. The cue of the music starts playing, and you catch your breath. The doors crack open, and you’re met with a long aisle leading to the end, where two thrones are erected. You take in a deep breath, exhaling before entering the room.

Similar to the front of the castle, the room is filled with servants, their heads hanging low. By the end of the room is Jungkook in a blue shirt and white slacks. Next to him is a priest. Just like what the old maid said, you take light steps, and this time, you make sure that you don’t step on your own dress.

You successfully make it to the other side, where you stand in front of Jungkook. He truly is a handsome fellow up close, no matter how cold his eyes seem. Having no clue what to do since the maid didn’t tell you anything else, you stand there. The priest opens the book, reading a passage aloud. Curious, you lean over to see what he’s reading, but you can’t even understand what it says.

Once the reciting is complete, Jungkook leans over, making you jolt. You take a step back, but remembering that this is the part where he lifts the veil from your face, you freeze. He takes the ring from the stand, putting it on your ring finger. You assume that you have to do the same.

With that finished, he leans over, closing his eyes and tilting his head. Your lips meet, and your eyes see nothing but his face.

“Congratulations, you two are hereby pronounced as Freesia’s new king and queen.” The priest announces.

There are little applauds, but no cheers. You push him away, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. You look disgusted with the insincere kiss, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind.

It’s been only a day since you been on Freesia, and it’s nothing like you thought it would be. Every second spent here, it makes you miss your home even more.

And thus, begins a new chapter in your life, with a man who forced you into an unwanted marriage.

———

In your dressing room, you change out of your dress behind a wall divider. It was unbearable being in it for hours, and you can finally breathe once you took it off. One of the maids hands you a nightgown, making you dread having to wear yet another agonizing dress.

With the thick layer of makeup wiped off and your hair loose from the hair clips’ restraints, you’re ready to drop to the ground and sleep. Today was so busy that you never had the chance to relax. Now that everything is done and over with, the exhaustion is finally setting in.

“Your Highness, please follow me to your bedroom.” A maid speaks up.

“Okay.”

You walk closely behind her, looking back and seeing the rest of the maids folding the gown that you had just taken off and dusting the corners of the room.

“Uhm...might I ask...but where will I be sleeping?” You ask.

“You will be sleeping in Jungkook’s bedroom.”

You nearly stumble over your own two feet. “E-excuse me?”

“I apologize, was I not clear?”

“N-no, his room...you say...Will there be a separate bed for me?”

“No need to be timid, Your Highness. You two are newly weds, after all.”

It isn’t that you’re shy, but you barely know Jungkook. Everyone knows how awkward it is sleeping in the same bed with a complete stranger. Despite the bond as husband and wife, there is no real relationship underneath those titles.

“Is it possible for me to have my own room…?”

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but it is not in my power to break traditions. If you like, then you can discuss this matter with the king.”

You knew she wasn’t going to agree with it, but it didn’t hurt to try.

“Do not worry. From what I’ve seen, King Jungkook isn’t in his private room most of the time. He’s usually busy with sword practice or locked up in his office. In fact, he may be practicing right now.”

You sigh in relief. Although, you’re amazed by the amount of strength he has. He just returned home, but he’s quick to going back to work. It makes you feel awful that you’re tired even though you haven’t done anything too physical.

———

Your jaw drops at the beauty of the room. The walls are painted with articulate designs of flowers and stems stretched in all four corners. There’s a couch in the corner with a coffee table. Against the wall is the king-sized bed, more pillows can you can count and a red blanket tucked neatly into the mattress. Next to it is a nightstand.

There isn’t much in the room, which is why it looks big. There’s also a private restroom just off the side, and a closet that’s big enough to become a room itself. The candles have been lit for the night, and it seems like they’ve been on for quite a while since so much of the wax has melted.

“If there’s anything you need, then just let us know as soon as possible.”

“Okay.”

“Well then, goodnight, Your Highness.”

She closes the door behind you. The first thing you do is touch everything. Every piece of furniture is stitched to perfection. The material is silky, so smooth that it feels satisfying stroking it. You check the closet next, and it’s filled with all of Jungkook’s clothes. He has so many that you don’t think your clothes will fit in. You walk out to the balcony with a candlelight in hand. You can see the garden from here, spreading through the back part. That’s where you’ll be planting the fruits soon.

From the corner of your eye, there’s a separate building detached from the castle. When you squint your eyes, you see Jungkook swinging a wooden sword. He’s hitting a scarecrow multiple times, aiming at the pressure points. The maid wasn’t exaggerating when she said that he would be practicing right now. It’s so late, so you don’t see the reason for training.

You watch him for a few more seconds before yawning and calling it a night. Pressing your palm on the mattress, you wonder if it’s alright for you to take space on Jungkook’s bed. Under your breath, you apologize to Jungkook and slide into bed. You stare at the empty side, imagining what it’s like to sleep next to him. But picturing the intimacy makes you blush, so you turn around and try to sleep the thought away. There’s no chance that you’ll ever let that monstrous man lay a finger on you.

You let out a light sigh, holding onto the necklace and praying that the night will go well for you. Before closing your eyes, you think about your mother.

———

“M-Mom? What are you doing?”

You’re back home again, but in child form. In front of your is your mother, her eyes red from sobbing as she pushes you into a small hole in the wall. Although you want to look around, your small body won’t let you. All you do is stare at your mother.

“Don’t worry about me. Stay hidden here and don’t let the bad men see or hear you, got it?”

In the background, black smoke pollutes the red sky. The smell of fire is overpowering. The screams of the villagers, hearing their voices be cut off followed by the sound of gunshots, deafens your ears.

Your mother gets up, but before she can run off, you grab her wrist, crying uncontrollably. “Mom! Don’t leave me, I’m scared…”

She stares at her only daughter, begging her not to leave, eyebrows raised as if not knowing how to soothe you. She gets on one knee, wrapping her arms, burying your face into her shoulder.

“I’m not leaving you, and I never will,” she kisses you on the forehead. “Even if you can’t see me, I’m there for you because I’m your mother.”

There was something off-putting about your mother’s final words, like she knew her fate was inevitable. She wasn’t going to be there to see you grow up, so she found the right words to have you stop crying, almost like an enchanting spell.

You swallow that lump in your throat, nodding your head before letting go of your mother. She smiles in relief, brushing your hair one last time. She steps back, her grin not once leaving her face.

Just then, a muscular man bursts through the door, startling you and your mother. Your mother freezes, face-to-face with one of the pirates who have raided the island. A malicious smile forms on his face, marching right for her. For a millisecond, you and your mother make eye contact, but you knew what her expression said:

‘Don’t make a single noise.’

You cover your mouth, stopping your cries from seeping from between your fingers. But no matter how tight you squeeze your mouth shut, your heart won’t stop pounding. You turn your attention to the tattoo of a black skull on the man’s bicep, glaring back at you with hollow eyes, proceeded by your mother’s screams.

———

You open your eyes, jolting your entire body. You shoot up your upper body, discovering that you’re covered in cold sweat. Your pounding heart is so loud that it almost sounds like it’s echoing. The tips of your fingers tremble.

When you look around to see that you’re in Jungkook’s bedroom, you sigh in relief. You haven’t had a nightmare like that in years, so it’s not a surprise that you’re shaken.

“A nightmare?” A familiar voice asks.

Standing by the bedside is Jungkook, taking off his leather gloves, not batting an eye at you. He was so quiet that you didn’t sense his presence whatsoever. It’s humiliating that he has to see you in this state, but you can’t undo what he’s already seen.

You shake your head. “No...it’s difficult adapting to this place.”

“It’s not hot enough for you to be sweating that much though.” He states as he points at your pillow.

With the candlelight illuminating by the nightstand, a dark shade is embedded into your pillow. You pat it down, your palm interacting with the sweat. You open your mouth to provide a counter argument, but you can’t think of anything from the top of your head.

“Well, since you’re awake, allow me to provide you with a bit of house rules. From here on out, you’ll be in charge of instructing the farmers on how to properly grow the dragon fruits. You will need to learn the ins and outs of this land, so the head maid will be responsible for scheduling etiquette lessons, academics, and so on.”

While you’ve already been made aware of the farming aspect, you weren’t expecting to be tutored. You want to retaliate because you never agreed to the later half of the deal, but Jungkook beats you to it and responds first.

“And don’t try to do anything sneaky. You don’t want to do anything that’ll cost the life of your people.”

A chill runs down your spin. The rules and threat don’t help with your anxiety either, putting more pressure onto your shoulders that you need to abide by the law he creates.

Once Jungkook finishes switching out from his muddy boots to indoor slippers, he strides to the doorway. You were about to call out after him, but you stopped yourself. This is the third time Jungkook has caught you by the tongue, and it’s annoying you.

You curl into a fetal position, dropping your head onto your knees. The new life that you’ll be leading...was it the right choice to leave? You’re beginning to think like your father—could there have been a better outcome if you didn’t prematurely agreed to the engagement?

You mess with your hair, combing your fingers through it as you exhale heavily. To avoid the stress taking ahold of you, you hold onto the necklace, convincing yourself that there was no other way. You can’t wish for this to go away, you have to face it head on. This is just the beginning.

———

SUMMER

“Your Highness, where should the seeds be placed?” An old man approaches with a sack.

“They go into the shed along with the rest of the farm equipment.”

He runs off as quickly as he ran here. In the garden, you’re leaning over as you check the current state of the plants. On the first day of summer, everyone is sweating buckets worth, but this sort of weather is like winter in your homeland, so it’s natural.

It’s been months since you left, and now you live almost comfortably. You’ve been put in charge of raising the tropical plants, keeping a record of the process and sending it to Jungkook by the end of each day. Each day follows a specific pattern, where one day, you’ll be learning proper etiquette as a part of royalty, and other days you’ll be working closely with the servants.

You find it easier to get along with the servants compared to your tutors. They have zero interest in your well-being. It almost feels as if they’re looking down on you because you came from a small island. With the servants, it took awhile for them to warm up to you, but after that’s been done, there’s no issue talking to them.

“Your Highness, shouldn’t you be resting by now? You’ve been here since the break of dawn.” The elderly man asks as soon as he set the sack down.

You shake your head. “I’m fine. I prefer staying outside anyway. It feels a little suffocating in there.”

“But what about your language tutor? Wouldn’t she get upset?”

“I don’t have an issue with verbal communication, and this kingdom’s writing system is confusing that I don’t want to think about it. It doesn’t hurt missing one or two sessions.”

“King Jungkook will get upset if he finds out that you’re skipping lessons!”

“It’s alright,” you say as you pinch the leaves. “It isn’t like he cares.”

Despite the marriage, you and Jungkook treat each other like strangers. You two don’t even share the same bedroom. You’re careful not to show the grudge you hold for him, but Jungkook isn’t a fool; he knows you detest him. However, it was never his intention to be affectionate, you’re here as the connection between him and your father.

“Has he been treating you thoughtfully?”

“More or less. I feel more like a servant than his wife. It’s odd just thinking about how I’m queen…”

The old man laughs. “Even though you came from a royal background?”

“Well, my tradition is different from here. There’s no castle, no machines, no solid hierarchy.”

“It’s pleasant to hear that you came from a humble background. It’s very similar to King Jungkook’s.”

Your ears perk once you hear that. “Excuse me? Can you tell me more? What do you mean by that?”

Although you keep a large gap between you and him, you still are curious about Jungkook. He’s a mysterious person for sure, and you’d like to know more about him.

He looks around to make sure that no one else can hear. “Our former king, King Kim, was a kind man, putting his people before himself. It wasn’t until he was dethroned and slaughtered by King Jeon King Jungkook’s father. He was ruthless, I tell you. He prioritized military power and monetary gain more than anything. Each concubine he married was for the purpose of gaining something from the other lands, eventually marrying five wives.”

It sounds awfully similar to your situation, which isn’t surprising.

“However, his sixth wife was the most unusual, King Jungkook’s mother.”

His mother? You’ve heard about his father previously, but you have yet to learn about his mother. You don’t know if he has a close relationship with his mother. In fact, you don’t even know if she’s alive. If the former king had six wives, where are they?

“How so?”

“What’s going on here?”

From behind, Jungkook had been standing there all this time. The old man looks frightened, nearly falling over.

“Y-Your Majesty. W-we were just checking this section.”

But Jungkook doesn’t seem to believe that. The old man is sweating blocks.

“He was just telling me about the summer heat.”

“Hm, okay,” He still isn’t convinced but doesn’t push any further. “(Y/N), let me speak to you privately.”

You follow him from behind, walking away from the farm. You look back at the old man, hoping that Jungkook won’t do anything.

———

Inside the castle corridors, you’re unsure where he’s going. Every time he walks by a servant, they bow their heads and greet him.

“How have the plants been growing? There’s something off about them.”

“The growth process is a little slow. Because the weather is colder here, it’s going to take longer.”

“How long?”

“I’m not sure...maybe a year until we see something grow.”

“...Very well. It seems like we will have to keep relying on shipments from your island then.”

His words trigger your homesickness. You wonder how your father is doing, hopefully not worried sick for you.

“Also…” he starts. “I’d prefer it if you kept to your own business. My past is not your entertainment.”

You raise an eyebrow, unsure how he came to that conclusion. “I didn’t ask for my amusement. I was genuinely curious.”

“Why learn about someone you hate? To use it against me?”

“Where is this coming from? Why are you accusing me of such things?”

Jungkook doesn’t respond immediately. “If I hear one more question about my mother, then don’t expect me to give you a second chance.”

You can’t believe that he’s threatening you because of your curiosity. You dislike how he can do whatever he wants with you, but opening your mouth is forbidden.

“What’s wrong with me asking about your mother?” You ask with attitude.

He stops walking, that being the last straw. He turns around, and you cover your mouth, realizing that you made a mistake. He stands over you, his dead eyes staring straight into your soul. You gulp, feeling intimidated as he stands inches before you.

“Then tell me how your mother died.”

You never once mentioned about your mother around him, so how does he know?

“Wh-what? How did you…”

“That day when I took over your island, I followed you to your mother’s grave. I heard everything—you crying over her dead body like a helpless child, begging her for help.”

The things that he’s saying...you know that he’s saying only to push you on edge, but you can’t help it. The way he’s mocking your most vulnerable moment, speaking disrespectfully about your mother, it’s infuriating you.

“You’re an imbecile, thinking that a dead person can help you. They’re nothing but bones. There’s no such thing as spirits, and only a dimwit believes that. Your mother died and left you.”

You clench your fists, looking down at your chest, where your mother’s pearl necklace rests.

“Do you now understand why you shouldn’t ask—”

You headbutt him in the chin. He was completely off-guard by that that he nearly fell backwards.

This catches the attention of all the servants in the hall. The color drains out of their eyes when they saw you hit the king himself. He wraps his hand around his injured chin as it pulsates.

“You little…!”

Aware of what your near future has to hold, the servants flee to avoid the consequences. Jungkook was about to explode, but once he sees your face, his anger subsides. Your eyes are watery, presumably because your feelings have been hurt and the pain after hitting him with your head.

“I’m sorry I asked.”

You storm off, and this sets off even more panic with the servants. But you don’t care. You wanted to get that out of your system, and it felt good. After everything he’s done to you, at least he deserved a headbutt.

———

In another section of the castle finally alone, you’re facing the wall, wiping your eyes. You mumble to yourself, ‘don’t cry, don’t cry.’ You’re embarrassed that you almost let yourself go in front of him, but you weren’t expecting him to spill such crude words. Now you’re stuck in a dilemma where you might be punished for your actions.

Is this really going to be your life? Stuck in a castle with a man who doesn’t love you? All you can think about is going back home, seeing your father again, sleeping in your favorite futon, and talking to your mother, even if she’s dead.

“That was definitely a sight worth seeing!”

You hear an unexpected voice from behind. You spin your body, seeing a man grinning from ear to ear. You don’t recognize him, so you’re on guard when he takes a step closer to you.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you,” as a friendly welcome, he extends his hand out for a handshake. “My name is Taehyung, and I’m a new servant.”

Raising an eyebrow, you decide to trust him, giving him your hand. He gives it a good, rough shake before letting your hand go.

“Were you crying just now?”

“Oh, no, I wasn’t.” You sniff.

“Hm, anyways, I saw what you did earlier, and that definitely took a huge leap of courage. Never in my life have I ever seen anyone do that.” Taehyung applauds.

Still on high alert, you don’t react. Sensing the vibe, he stops.

“He’s a quiet man, but one wrong move and his words can become as sharp as a blade. Now, I wasn’t too sure what the conversation was about, but I’m sure he was trying to press your buttons.”

You don’t respond, so he takes this as a yes. Seeing as you’re silent, he assumes you don’t trust him. He leans down until he’s eye level with you. There’s something in his eyes that you haven’t seen in awhile, and it’s sympathy.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m on your side. If you want, you can tell me what’s been on your chest. I promise that I won’t tell Jungkook.”

His words are comforting to hear, it’s something that you needed. When you loosen the stiffness in your shoulders, he smiles, relieved that you trust him.

Some time has gone by, and you open up about everything. You weren’t expecting yourself to vent so much, especially since you just barely met him. It just shows that you really needed someone to talk to—someone who’s worried about their safety. Taehyung was quiet the majority of the time, nodding his head. It felt like he was actually invested in what you had to say.

“It must be hard, being in a foreign land, learning a new culture and meet strangers all by yourself.”

“...It is. I’ve always wanted to travel, but not like this.”

“Believe me when I say this, Your Highness, but I know exactly what you mean. I also was alone for most of my life, and it’s scary.”

“Where are you from?”

“Here, but I was orphaned at a very young age. It’s a miracle that I’m even alive.”

“I’m...sorry about that.”

“No worries!” he takes a step back, returning to his bubbly personality. “I know we just met, but what would you say if I told you that I can help you back home?”

Your eyes widen, at a loss of words. Did he really say what you thought you heard? “Really?! But...why?”

He nods. “No person should be restrained to another without consent, and I’m willing to get you out of it. Your father is the only family you have left, right? You should go back to him when you still have the chance.”

You can’t believe it. Taehyung is a savior. However...your hope sinks when you forgot another important factor.

“But...he has my father in his hands. If I leave, he knows where to look, and without a doubt, he’ll definitely kill everybody.”

“I might know a way to get around that. It won’t be easy, and it’ll take time, but if you want my help, then I need you to do something for me.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to find Jungkook’s weak spot.”

A weakness? “What does it have to do with the plan?”

“Think about it: he’s the one who’s pulling the strings. Even if you try to tug on it, his eyes are on you, so you can’t escape. If we use his weakness to distract him, then I can help snip the strings. You have an advantage because you’re his wife—the only person closest to him. I may not look like it, but I have a lot of connections, and I can get someone to prepare a ship for your return.”

“Are...you really willing to go that far for me? I-I haven’t done anything to deserve this.”

While you’re grateful for this opportunity, it feels off. The benefits outweigh the workload. Can the plan really work out the way he explains it to be?

“I’m doing it also for myself. One day, I’ll tell you why. The plan might sound simple, but it’s more complicated. But don’t worry about it, I’ll do the hard part. I just need you to gain Jungkook’s trust.”

“...Okay. I’ll do it,” you lean over, hugging him to express how thankful you are, but it catches him off-guard. “Thank you so much. I’ll never forget it.”

He pulls himself back, clearing his throat. “It hasn’t started, so don’t thank me yet.”

He has given you this ray of hope that nobody else here has done. Each day, your mental state deteriorated because nobody was willing to take the chance to listen to you. If you hadn’t met Taehyung, then you would’ve continued to spiral down into insanity. You make sure that Taehyung’s offer will not be taken for granted.

———

The head maid’s hand slaps you so hard that your head turned in the same direction as her hand. “You simple-minded bitch!”

You fight the urge to hit her back, clenching your fists.

“How dare you humiliate the king in front of everybody?! He has been nothing but kind toward you! He gave you a roof to sleep under, food, and even education for that barbaric mind of yours!” She nags as she aggressively pokes your head.

Despite being the queen, you’re treated no differently from a maid. There is no respect for you from the head maid, only when Jungkook is around. She has already made it clear that she despises you since the beginning.

“If you had been some ordinary woman, then I’d have your hair shaved off. You don’t deserve the opportunity to even apologize!” She turns away, sneering at you. “I still cannot believe that he chose to marry you when he had more proper women lined up.”

You didn’t make the decision, but the way she says it makes it sound like it was. You rub your cheek after she leaves. It’s unfair that Jungkook doesn’t get backlash for what he does, but you do. If you were of another background, then the maid wouldn’t have treated you this way.

You stomp your feet to the balcony, pushing the doors open. The urge to scream is pulled back when you’re reminded that as a woman, you could get in trouble for using your chest voice. Instead, you slam your fist against the concrete rail, cursing to your heart’s content. The maid did not see what had unfolded between you and him, but even if she did, she would still side with Jungkook.

You raise your head up, staring at the distant building where Jungkook has sword practice. Even under this hot weather, he’s still practicing. For the months that you’ve been living here, he’s never missed a day. He doesn’t even sleep in the same room as you. You can’t quite understand him—why is he so intent with work?

You recall what Taehyung said about potentially helping you return to your island. With him being closed-off with everyone, including you, how can you possibly get close to him? But you can’t have a defeatist attitude just yet when you haven’t started. Perhaps you’re overthinking it and there is a chance that you can pass through his barriers; you just have to figure out how.

———

You exhaling to calm your nerves. In your hands is a tray of iced tea. You’re a few feet away from Jungkook, in the gardens hiding behind a rose bush sculpted into the shape of a young angel. This is the first time you’ll be approaching him non-business related, so you pray that your act of kindness doesn’t come off as suspicious. You convince yourself not to worry too much, counting backward before going.

You pull the most welcoming smile that you can achieve, walking stiffly to Jungkook. As you pull in closer, he notices you and stops. He brushes his sweaty hair back, breathing heavily as he stares at you. The longer he stares at you, the more conscious you are of your appearance. How do you look like when you’re walking? Is your posture relaxed? How does a normal walk look like again? All the little things attacking you at once.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” you pause momentarily to rehearse your lines. “It sure is hot today, isn’t it? I see you practice here often, so I thought it’d be best for you to take a break and have a cup of cold tea.”

You look for anything to use as a table, but seeing as there’s nothing of use, you keep ahold of the tray.

Already, he raises an eyebrow. “I know. I see you on the balcony, watching me.”

He points at the balcony connected to the bedroom, and you look behind. You never thought about how obvious it is when you stand there, spying on him like a stalker. It makes you flustered, almost forgetting what to say next.

“Oh, it’s just fascinating watching you practice. You strike this dummy like it’s a real person!” You try to sound enthusiastic, but it’s too forced that he can see through you.

“What do you want?”

“N-nothing! I just…” you look down at the ground. “...wanted to apologize for my rash behavior the other day. It was uncalled for me to hit you like that. I-I know a cup of tea isn’t going to redo the past, but I want to show that I thought a lot about it and would like to make up for that.”

While a part of you does feel apologetic for what you did, but the childish side says that he deserved it. Jungkook still doesn’t look convinced with your offer but gives in to it anyways. He takes the cup and sips it before returning it to you. He resumes training, acting as if you never came by.

You’re left there standing without another word. Is that really it? What else are you supposed to do? You were expecting more persuasion would come into play. You were going to take this as a perfect opportunity to be pushier, but you’re stumped.

“Okay well...train hard.”

You spin around, pacing back to the garden with your head hanging low. Your face is flushed, unable to believe that you were at a loss of words. You prepared a whole conversation in case he refused, but he’s wittier than you thought. He knows that by retaliating, it’ll give you a reason to stay and bother him. He was one step ahead of you.

But you can’t give up now. This is just the first attempt. You raise your head up with new determination.

———

Every day since then, you would bring cold drinks for Jungkook during his training session. You would ask the servants to teach you how to make tea, then you would bring it out to him. You did this so often that the servants thought that it was becoming a chore for you, so they offered to do it in your stead, but you turned it down every time. You wanted—needed—to be the one to get close to him, even if the atmosphere felt uncomfortably silent.

“Why do you practice every day?” You ask one day.

While sitting down on the ground, Jungkook stares at you. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but you wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t answer you. You return the gaze back at him, using your hand as a shade above your eyes to protect them from the glaring sun. He looks away, turning his attention back at the beatdown scarecrow.

“It’s important not to slack off.”

“But don’t you think you’re practicing too much? I see you with a wooden sword more than anything else.”

The end of his eyebrow raises up, not agreeing with your statement. “It’s easy for you to say that.”

He returns to what he was doing before, trying to ignore you as usual. However, you aren’t going to let him off that easily this time.

“You know, I may not look like it, but I know how to use a sword too.”

“Yes, I’m aware. That was how we met.”

You forgot about that. That wasn’t the best introduction, but there’s no way you can redo that now. You stand up, stretching your arms and legs. He stands back, wondering what you’re about to do.

You grab an extra wooden sword and get into battle position. You raise the sword over your head, swinging it down on the scarecrow’s head. The head bobs up and down from the impact, dust flying everywhere. You look at Jungkook, waiting for his praise.

“Holding the sword above your head takes too much strength and time. By doing that, you leave your entire body vulnerable, and you would’ve gotten hit by then. You don’t want to make the first hit the most powerful one either. Conserve your strength for the rest of the fight.”

Your pride was stomped in an instant, but then again, there was no point for you to show off amateur skills to an expert.

“Who taught you how to use a sword?”

You scratch your cheek, having realized that you boasted about yourself a bit too much. “No one…”

“Not even your father?”

“No...my dad didn’t want me to get near a blade, so I kinda learned by watching him.”

“Hm, impressive. Despite everything else, you have the strength equivalent to that of a man, and self-taught too, not too bad.”

You knew that you were most likely stronger than an average woman because you were the only person in your entire village who could perform physical labor. Everybody was either too old or young.

“Perhaps you’re not some ordinary, dainty woman, but you still have a long way before you call yourself a swordswoman.”

You don’t know if meant that as a compliment. Either way, it lifted your spirits. You try to hide your smile, but it’s impossible. Jungkook catches you grinning, not sure why you’re happy, but decides not to say anything. In fact, that’s the first time he’s seen you smile since you got here and this is the longest conversation he’s had with you.

Upon first impression, it didn’t seem like you liked him, which isn’t surprising considering what he did. But you suddenly started showing up, giving him something to drink every day under the scorching weather, trying to talk to him. It’s highly suspicious, especially since you get nothing out of talking to him. However, it isn’t something he particularly hates.

“You’re...” He trails off. “...welcome to practice here. And you don’t have to use tea as an excuse.”

Your jaw drops, your eyes so wide that you can see the whole world. He doesn’t know why you’re so speechless by his offer, but you quickly go back to smiling again.

“Thank you, Your Majesty!”

If anything, he’s more shocked. He can’t understand why he feels...comfortable talking to you. You two should see each other as enemies, but seeing you in another light, he wasn’t thinking when he offered this place to you. If anything, it would be a bad move on his end. If you learned how to use a weapon, then you can kill him. But this brief conversation felt like the conflict between you and him doesn’t exist. He can’t remember the last time he spoke to someone without second-guessing, or if he ever did at all.

———

And just as he said, you’ve been practicing alongside Jungkook. You still bring him tea, but now you found another reason to stop by. Although he doesn’t say much, he does leave advice here and there to better your swordsmanship. Whenever it isn’t about training, he would ask about how the dragonfruits are growing. Despite that gap between you and him still apparent, the gap definitely closened.

However, today is unlike any day. When you head to the training area, Jungkook is nowhere to be seen. He’s usually here around this time of day. You set the tea set down, finding a gardener nearby.

“Excuse me, do you know where King Jungkook is?”

“I heard that the shipment from Pitaya Island has arrived today, so he went to the port to check. He should be back shortly.”

“Thank you.”

You leave the gardener be, deciding to kill time by swinging the wooden sword. The head maid recommends that you use your extra time by studying, but just thinking about a book already stresses you out. You can already tell that academics aren’t your strongest, so you dread the thought of just thinking about it. At least for this, this gives you a reason to feel productive.

———

You thought that by practicing, hours would fly over your head, but it turned out to be the contrary. You keep looking back at the garden, hoping to see Jungkook. Every time you think about him, you try shaking him out. He is your enemy, you tell yourself, you’re not here to become allies. It makes you forget about him for a few seconds, then you return to this vicious cycle of thinking about him again.

After an hour, you stopped, finding this repetition to get on your nerves. You kick the pebbles around, watching them roll away. With all your attention on the pebbles, you almost run into the scarecrow. You get into a stare-off with it, glaring at its dirty face. It has two ‘x’ for eyes, as there used to be buttons there. It’s been abused by Jungkook so much that cotton is falling out from the man-made body, and the clothes have lost their color. Despite being a victim, it still has a smile sewn onto it.

“What are you looking at?” You make an attempt to sound menacing, but only make a poor attempt at it. “Just because you hang out with Jungkook the most doesn’t mean that you’re special.”

You pause as if the scarecrow is actually speaking.

“What? I’m not jealous. Just to let you know, I hate him. That’s right, he’s my arch-nemesis, so that means that you’re my enemy too. I have every reason to show you no mercy.”

You’re quiet again, and then you pull yourself back as if you’ve been offended.

“No, I’m not thinking about him! Are you insane? ...Me? Worried?” You roll your eyes, scoffing. “Why would I worry about that selfish prick anyway? He doesn’t care if I die.”

You realize that you’re having an imaginary conversation with a scarecrow, but knowing that you talked to your mother’s tombstone for twelve years, this is nothing out of the ordinary.

“He just...wants me because it’ll benefit him. I refuse to believe that he has an ounce of care in him.”

That’s right, you shouldn’t try to understand someone who doesn’t think about others. You should focus on getting back home. It would be a waste to have him in your thoughts.

“YOUR HIGHNESS!” The scratchy voice was so loud that it frightened you.

The head maid is marching right toward you, grabbing your arm once she got close enough. You thought that you had gotten into trouble again, but that expression on her face doesn’t look like she intends to yell at you today.

“Where on earth have you been?! I’ve been searching everywhere!”

“I-I was here this whole time. Why?”

“There was an attack!”

“What?!”

“A pirate had hijacked one of the ships with the food supply from your island and made an attempt to ambush King Jungkook.”

You thought you didn’t hear her right. When she said ‘your island,’ there was this immediate feeling of foreboding dragging your entire spirit down.

“Thankfully, they were no match for the king, so—”

“Where is King Jungkook?!”

Startled by your sudden question, she hesitates. “The king is in the main hall. I understand that you’re in a panic, we all were, but do not raise your voice—”

You run back inside, not caring if your shoes are covered in dirt. You’re not supposed to run in the castle, but you could care less. What you need to know now is if your father is okay.

———

In the main hall, the servants and soldiers surround Jungkook. You fight through the crowd to get into the center. Your heart pounds, your vision is blurry, and your hands tremble. You want to know what happened so you can get rid of this antsy feeling.

When the crowd finally notices you passing through, they immediately make way. They grow silent after seeing you, even Jungkook. Standing before him, you didn’t have to say anything for him to know what you want to ask.

“They’re safe. The pirates hijacked the ship after they picked up the new shipment.”

It felt like a million things have just been lifted. You don’t know how you would react if he didn’t have any good news to say.

Despite saving the capital from a terror attack, the people around Jungkook don’t cheer. They have the same, stoic expression that they’ve always had. Once Jungkook walks away from the main lobby and into the hall, the crowd disperses, returning to their everyday lives.

Perhaps there was more that you should’ve said to him, at most a thanks. After all, he did save the mainland, as it is a king’s duty to do so. Something in you is persuading you to move your feet and follow him, let him know that you’re thankful, even if he ignores you.

———

As Jungkook dives deeper into the maze of corridors, you follow closely behind. You’re embarrassed for behaving stealthily when you can simply confront him, but you want to stall and have enough time to rehearse what you want to say to him

You don’t even know if it’s worth it to thank him, especially knowing how talented he is at ignoring you. You aren’t even sure why you’re so keen on talking to him. It might be because you’ve gotten comfortable enough to be around him that it becomes second nature to speak to him. Another reason might be because you were unconsciously worried about him, no matter how much you deny that. Regardless of the reason, you’re still here, hiding behind each statue, peeking your head out and waiting for the perfect opportunity to say something.

You come to a halt when Jungkook suddenly stops walking in the middle of the halls. Initially, you thought that he noticed you. But after a few seconds later, you see that that isn’t the case. Since he’s not moving, you thought that this would be the right time to reveal yourself and stop hiding. You step out from behind a sculpture of a man, waving your hand to grab his attention.

“Your Majesty, I—”

But before you can finish your sentence, Jungkook falls to his knees, coughing violently. You’re startled, not doing anything before processing that he’s fallen over. After it clicks that he’s not well, you force your legs to work.

You kneel down, getting a better look at his condition. Jungkook is covering his mouth with his hand, coughing nonstop to the point where he’s wheezing. His other arm and wrapped around his stomach, and sweat is pouring out of his pores. His ears and nose are turning red.

You put your hands on his shoulders, and it seems as though he didn’t realize that you were here all along. Instinctively, he shoves your hands off, giving you an angry look. “Don’t touch me...”

After moving his hand away from his mouth, you see the blood rolling down his lip. The palm of his hand is covered in blood, fusing with the sweat. He struggles to stand up, only to fall back down. He’s so weak that he has to lean on the wall, trying to catch his breath.

Seeing him in this condition, it horrifies you. Just moments ago, he looked fine. He must’ve waited until there was absolutely no one to finally fall. With his arm still wrapped around his stomach, you notice that his shirt is slowly sucking up the blood. He must have received an injury to the stomach.

Disregarding his order, you lean over to him, putting his arm around your neck to help him up. He looks confused but too weak to remove his arm from you.

“What are you doing?”

“Why did you pretend like you were okay?!” You respond with a question.

Jungkook is silent, looking away. With your strength, you’re able to lift him up, though you struggle to get him to walk. After the first few steps, you were able to get into rhythm with his steps. The sweat from the tips of his hair is rubbed against your cheek, and your dress is soaking up the sweat like a sponge.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To your room.”

———

In the room, Jungkook’s personal doctor has just completed his checkup, returning the stethoscope back to the bag. His doctor has given him liquid medicine to soothe him. After all the commotion, he’s finally calmed down and asleep. You stayed for the entire duration, standing by the side and waiting for the results.

The doctor approaches you, sighing. “His Majesty is no longer in critical condition. It was quite a fright, however.”

“Can you explain what happened?”

“He was injured during battle, receiving a deep cut to his waist. There must’ve been poison on the blade, as he was showing symptoms.”

“What?!”

“I’m not certain what kind of poison yet, but it most likely might’ve been a plant-based poison.”

Your gaze turns to Jungkook, who’s sleeping soundly.

“It was sheer luck that you were barely able to get me in time before the poison spread to his entire body. He should be able to recover within a week as long as he takes the medicine on a daily basis. However, he will still feel soreness in his muscles, so I recommend that he doesn’t get out of bed,” The doctor gives you a transparent glass bottle. “Make sure that he takes this three times a day. Oh, and please keep an eye on him. He may be our king, but he’s still a child. He might feel uneasy being in bed and make sure that he doesn’t try to sneak out.”

He walks off, leaving you confused at first before turning around and calling him back. “Wait, excuse me—”

And with that, the doctor closes the door behind him. Your intention was to get him to his room and get help as soon as possible, not become his personal maid. Even though you are his wife by contract, you aren’t romantically attached to him to where you should take care of him.

But when you look at him, you can’t help but think that you’re simply being selfish. You know almost nothing about taking care of an ill person, so you were upset that the responsibility was dropped on your head suddenly. You can’t forget that he fought outsiders to protect his land and behaved as if he was fine afterwards.

Since he’s no longer in critical condition, you decide that it’s best to let him rest. You open the drawer of the nightstand to place the bottle inside. However, there’s something in there that catches your attention. It’s a black and white photo of a boy sitting on a woman’s lap. Both of their expressions look melancholic, showing no signs of glee whatsoever. They’re dressed in elegant clothing, not a single wrinkle on it, and their hair is combed back with a gel-like substance.

The child on the woman’s lap has a starking resemblance to Jungkook. You look at Jungkoook, then look back at the photo. He looks similar to the woman in the photograph as well. After thinking about it for a while, you draw to the conclusion that this is Jungkook, and the woman is presumably his mother.

Jungkook turns in his bed and groans. Startled, you instinctively shove the photo into your pocket. You sigh in relief when he doesn’t wake up. You take the photo out, staring at it again.

———

“This woman?”

In the wine basement, you hand the photograph to Taehyung. He tilts his head, rotating the picture around to get a better look at it.

“This is Jungkook’s mother.”

Just as you thought.

“Where did you find this?” He asks while returning the picture back to you.

“I found it in his drawer. I was wondering if you know anything about her.”

You’re aware that Jungkook is not fond of people talking about his mother, but your curiosity outweighs the caution. You’re keen into knowing why he was so against you learning about her, and you want to know why there’s no sign of her either.

“I’m not surprised that he’s trying to keep it silent.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“His mother was a prostitute.”

“Prostitute? What’s that?”

Uncomfortable with figuring out how to properly explain the term, he averts his eyes. He leans over to your ear, whispering the description. Upon hearing the answer, you pull yourself back, dropping your jaw. You then cover your mouth with your hand.

“Everybody knows, but Jungkook forbids anyone to talk about it. It might be because he’s ashamed of his background, being raised by a street woman.”

You look at the picture again, focusing on his mother. You can’t imagine her living that sort of lifestyle, and then for Jungkook to grow up in that environment.

“I don’t know the full story, but the former king suddenly announced that he wedded another woman, his sixth one, in fact.”

“How is it possible that a king can marry another woman? What ever happened to swearing oath to one?”

“By law, the king is allowed to marry as many wives as he wishes. It’s a new rule after Jungkook’s father killed the king previous to him. Although, I can’t say for certain that not all concubines were treated equally.”

Taehyung puts his hands in his pockets, the mood darkening. There was a glimpse of fury underneath his eyes, but you might’ve imagined it.

“His father is a selfish prick, creating rules only to benefit him. His eyes saw nothing but lust. Either that or their kingdom had something the former king wanted, so an alliance through marriage was necessary for him to have a share.”

The latter half of Taehyung’s remark bothers you as if poking you on the side to remind you of your position. Without a doubt, you know that he didn’t marry you because he liked you, but what your island can contribute to him. The more you think about it, the more disdain you grow for him. But, you aren’t sure if the disdain is for Jungkook, or indirectly toward his father.

You know you’re looking at this with a biased point of view, but even if Taehyung described Jungkook’s mother in a sour way, you can’t bring yourself to look down on her. It might be because of what you used to have with your mother, but you don’t want to jump to conclusions and assume who his mother exactly is.

Seeing how deep in thought you are, Taehyung bends down until he’s eye level with you, patting you on the shoulder as he smiles. “Don’t worry about it. Soon enough, I’ll be able to send you back home. You’re doing a fine job.”

That’s right, you shouldn’t sympathize with anyone here but Taehyung. He’s the only one willing to help you, so there’s no need to feel sorry for Jungkook...right?

———

Jungkook’s health has been improving steadily, and he’s been staying in bed as of late. You were worried about the extra weight of giving him his daily dose of medicine, but it was you merely overthinking it. At most, you have to measure the right dosage then mix it into his soup. Once that’s complete, you go back to tending the dragon fruit garden and the dreadful private lessons.

Since he takes over the bed, you don’t sleep in the room anymore. Once the head maid is off your back, you sneak into your dressing room and sleep there. If she finds out that you’re not sleeping the ‘proper way’, then she would smack you without hesitation.

It’s been a few days since he’s been bedridden, and you can’t tell he’s beginning to get antsy staying in bed all day. The doctor insists that he doesn’t overwork himself as he’s still sore. However, Jungkook is a busy body, so resting is uncommon to him.

Today, in particular, you notice that he looks especially stressed. On his lap is a clipboard with sheets of paper stacked above it. He keeps scratching his head, his forehead wrinkled as he makes tiny grunts under his breath. You thought it’d be best to ignore it, but he’s not even trying to hide it.

“Are you okay…?”

“No, I’m not.” He responds frankly.

It would’ve been nicer if he didn’t say it in that tone. However, you try to brush it off. You keep telling yourself that this is for the sake of going back home.

“Is there any way I can help you with that?”

He glares at me as if astounded that you even bothered to ask that. “How will you be able to help me? You hardly know your numbers.”

You can feel your veins popping out. His snarky remarks are testing your patience, especially since you didn’t do anything this time to upset him.

“I might not be able to do it for you, but if you want someone to talk to, then I can be your listener.”

“How will that help me?”

“That way, you don’t have to carry the weight by yourself.”

He squints his eyes, not wanting to take your word for it. “This is a battle plan that the general and I created together. There has been an increase in pirate attacks, and we’re trying to figure out how to increase our defense.”

You take a look at the sheets, and it’s much more complicated than you thought. You barely understand the written language itself, and all the lines and circles drawn to each line makes you more confused. You weren’t expecting him to let you see it, or even tell you. In a way, it made you excited knowing that he’s trusting you bit by bit, even if you can’t understand anything.

“But...it isn’t easy. For every plan I create, I have to get them approved by my older brothers, and that isn’t easy. Every damn plan I propose to them, they reject it. And yet, they complain, and complain, and complain that I need to somehow improve my military.” He lets out an exasperated sigh.

He was right—you really don’t know how to solve this. You’ve never met any of his relatives to give suggestions. Being speechless, you put your index finger to your lips, thinking of anything to say. That’s when you remember what Taehyung said to you days ago.

“What is the flaw that they see?”

“I don’t even know. They won’t even tell me.”

Taehyung did mention that Jungkook is the youngest and isn’t treated well. Knowing his background and his mother, he might not have the respect he deserves from his older brothers.

“Maybe...your plan is fine? But they don’t want to acknowledge it?”

He raises an eyebrow. “And how would you know that it’s alright? You didn’t read it.”

You shrug your shoulders. “Just a guess. I mean, you’re a king for a reason. You were able to map out a way to my homeland without trouble, and then you took care of those pirates.”

Because Jungkook doesn’t know that you’ve been informed of his backstory, he looks at you with a questionable expression. A sweat drops, worried that he might’ve figured out that you stole the picture of his mother. You haven’t returned it yet, and it’s making you anxious.

“Whether I’m a king or not, my older brothers see me as incompetent,” he leans back. “No matter what I do, they don’t believe that I’m meant to become king.”

“Why is that so?”

“Well, for starters, I’m the youngest, and that already sets me at a disadvantage. Not only that, I—” Jungkook stops abruptly, losing his train of thought. “Never mind. There’s no point in diving deep into this topic.”

If only he knew what you knew, then he would know how sympathetic you feel for him. Selling your body for money may not be the most well-respected career path, but a mother is still a mother. What she did to support her and Jungkook prior to moving into the castle should not be forgotten.

Thinking about your mother, you may not remember her face anymore, but you don’t let the memories of her die out. She died when you were still very young, but that doesn’t excuse you to forget everything that she did in the short time that you’ve spent with her, and those are irreplaceable.

“You know...sometimes it’s nice to talk to somebody about your problems. It’s not whether or not they can solve it, but just for others to know the troubles that you’re going through. You’re not expecting much, only for them to lend an ear,” you clutch onto the pearl necklace, smiling faintly as you stare blankly into space. “You saw me talking to my mother’s tombstone, right? Talking about my day is heals my mind of all the stress that I go through daily.”

Thinking about your mother’s grave, picturing your father and the villagers, it truly makes you homesick. If only you can see the palm trees again, listen to the chirps of the colorful birds that fly across the sky, and the beauty of the ocean right under a bright, blue sky. But you swallow back your homesickness. Now is not the time to be reminiscing.

“My mother died a long time ago to protect me.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows, completely surprised with your openness.

“When I was a child, there was an invasion by another group of pirates, stealing our crops and pillaging our village. While everything was perishing, my mother hid me, making sure that the bloodline doesn’t end with me. By the time the invaders got what they needed and left, most of the children my age was killed off. That’s why I’m the only person who’s around my age.”

It hurts going back to that time. It was hard for everybody, especially with your father. Not only did his people suffer a lot, but he also lost this beloved wife. He was broken for years, and he’s still healing from it to this day.

“Even though my mom died long ago, I still talk to her. I know she’s dead, but speaking to her like she’s listening to everything I’m saying, it’s so relieving. So...if you ever feel stressed, it’s always good to release it. It doesn’t have to be me, but your reflection or anything you’re comfortable with.”

With his lack of response, you aren’t sure if he agrees with you or not. It sounds silly, but it definitely has helped you when coping with difficult situations. You’re already choking on your tears, swallowing the lump in your throat. To avoid crying in front of him, you think of something else to talk about.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to talk about myself. You’re the one who’s going through a tough time.”

He looks away, staring intensely at the blanket. “No...I was unaware of that. If you like, you can leave now.”

You’re surprised he said it in a calm manner. It almost sounds as if he acknowledged what you said and is letting you leave out of courtesy. You clear your throat, patting the back of your dress as you walk off.

“Very well, just holler for me if there’s anything you need.”

He barely nods, and you look back one more time before leaving.

———

Despite that being the longest you’ve ever spoken to Jungkook, nothing spectacular happened after that. You were somewhat expecting a turn in your relationship, but it’s as steady as it’s always been.

Jungkook has gotten better to where he can walk around. However, he still can’t do the activities that he did before, so most of the time, he walks around the castle, looking around as if he were a tourist. You’ve been watching him from afar, spying on him to see what he does, but nothing out of the ordinary happens.

Today is the same routine with you having to serve him dinner. However, when you enter, Jungkook is nowhere to be seen. Mild panic sets in, and you start to worry about where he could have gone. You set down the tray, calling his name while searching the entire room.

You walk out of the room, looking all around the hallway for any trace of him. A servant walks by, and you grab her by the shoulder. She didn’t notice you at first, so it made her flinch.

“Your Highness! Is there anything you need?”

“Do you know where the king is?”

“Ah, yes. His Majesty went to the garden. I may be wrong, but he went to check on the shipments for the exotic fruits.”

You smile, letting her know that you’re thankful before rushing to the backyard.

———

Appearing before you is the small shack where the dragon fruit seeds and fruits are hidden. The door is slightly ajar, so you peek in there, leaning over to double-check that Jungkook is in there. Just as the servant claims, he’s crouching over, digging his hand into a sack of black dragon fruit seeds. Wrapped around his shoulders is a thin blanket.

He looks tranquil, feeling the sensation of hundreds of seeds tickling his hand. It’s moments like these that remind you that Jungkook is barely into adulthood, yet he has so many responsibilities on his shoulders. You can’t imagine what goes through his mind, knowing the countless things that he has to keep in check.

You made the mistake of misstepping, making a slight kick to the door. This alerts Jungkook, shooting his head up to make eye contact with you. You avert your eyes, biting your bottom lip as you look away in embarrassment.

“No need to hide. Come here.” He waves his hand, signaling for you to enter.

You timidly stride inside, somewhat taken aback that Jungkook would let you inside. You don’t know if he’s going to let you stand next to him. You crouch down, staring at the seeds, wondering what it is that’s so intriguing to him.

“I tried doing what you said,” Jungkook begins. “And it doesn’t work.”

“What doesn’t work?”

“Talking to inanimate objects. I feel like an insane person. I feel more comfortable talking to somebody.”

It’s not surprising that Jungkook thinks so. If anything, it’s astonishing that he even made an attempt. He scoops a handful of seeds, then to let it pour in between his fingers.

“Have the plants been growing well?”

“Yes, it’s been slow, but still growing.”

“...That’s nice. There was a myth that there’s a one out of a million chance that one of the dragon fruits will actually grow a dragon egg. Is that true?”

You raise an eyebrow, having never heard of that before. “Where did you hear that from?”

“I heard it from many people. Your island is famous through word, but no one has ever gone there to prove it.”

If you had a closer relationship with him, then you would tease him for believing a false myth like a child would. It makes you wonder if he actually went as far as to travel to your island just to see if that tale is true.

“I’m sorry about looking down on your mother.”

Your turn your head to him so fast that your neck almost snapped. For a second, you thought your ears were playing tricks on you. It’s baffling to comprehend that Jungkook has just apologized.

“It was very immature of me to speak about somebody who I’ve never met before, so I’m not asking for your forgiveness.”

What was it that made him have a change of mind so suddenly? Could it have actually been what you said? You aren’t sure, but what you are sure is that something within him changed. Someone whom you thought is as cold as stone is opening up.

“Also...thank you for taking care of me these past few days and...dealing with me despite my stubbornness.”

Upon hearing that, you notice Jungkook’s ears turning red, cheeks flushed with red as well.

“I’ve never eaten a dragon fruit before,” He quickly changes the topic. “Does it taste good?

Saving his pride, you decide not to make a comment about his apology. You even pretend that he never said it. “What do you mean, ‘does it taste good?’ It’s one of the best! Not only is the color eye-catching, but the taste is also jaw-dropping!”

Your vague description doesn’t convince Jungkook enough. He raises an eyebrow, acting as if he had just heard a child talking. You try thinking of other ways to express it, but your vocabulary doesn’t stretch that far. That’s when you have an idea.

“Do we have any of the fruits from the most recent shipment?”

He points to the corner of the room. You stand up, dashing to inspect the fruits piled on each other in a large wooden box. With the lack of proper care, it’s not a surprise when you see that the fruits have become a bit old. You dig through it, praying that you’d find one that’s not bruised nor old, and your prayers are heard when you manage to find one that’s still in good condition.

You grin, showing him the fruit as he slowly walks up to you. “Here we go. Try this one.”

He takes it from your hand, rotating it around, having no clue what to do with it. “How do I…?”

He looks up from the fruit, staring at you with eyes as big as a baby’s. You want to giggle, but it’s too rude to do. You take it from his hand, looking for a small knife, managing to find one sitting on a table. You steady the blade onto the center of the fruit, slicing it in half. You open it, revealing the white flesh from within.

You return it to him, this time, after assisting him in opening the fruit. “Tell me how it tastes.”

Still not knowing how to eat it but not wanting to rely on you a second time, Jungkook digs his fingers into the fruit, scooping a small handful. He takes a bite, and his eyes enlarge once it’s in his mouth. You knew immediately what his reaction is.

“Tastes good, right?”

Jungkook nods his head. “Do you want some?”

“No, it’s okay-”

Without getting the chance to finish your sentence, Jungkook puts it into your mouth. The taste of the fruit reminds you of your home, and a wave of homesickness overwhelms you again. You remember the first time you had a dragon fruit when you were a toddler—that sweetness overwhelming your mouth, the small crunches of the black seeds—eating it at the table with your parents and grandmother. The smile on your mother’s face , your father’s booming laughter, and your grandmother cutting the fruits into smaller cubes.

Where has the time gone?

It never really hit you how much you miss your home—how lonely you feel. Every day, you feel like an outsider here. Even though you’re Jungkook’s wife, you don’t feel treated like one, and when people are respectful, there’s an obvious gap. You want to go home. You want to see your family again, under the tropical sun and sitting under the palm trees’ shades. You don’t want to be here anymore.

Before you know it, you’re already sobbing. You chuckle to lighten the mood, using your palms to wipe the tears away. But the tips of your lips tremble when you try smiling, and you choke on the lump in your throat. You managed to keep a strong face for the months you’ve been here, but you can’t hide it anymore, even if Jungkook is next to you. The more you think about your home, the more you cry. Within seconds, you lose that smile, breaking down entirely.

To your surprise, Jungkook wraps one arm around you, pulling him close to his shoulder. You rest your head on his shoulder, pausing your cry momentarily before continuing. He pats your back, and although his comforting is stiff, he’s trying his hardest. He doesn’t say anything, unsure of what to say since he’s never have to comfort somebody before.

You want to go home…

But you know you can’t.

[End of Part 1]

Part Two here

A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you for ending this until the end! I appreciate every single one of you reading it, and everyone is welcome to leave a message or comment of any kind ^^. I’ll be making part 2 soon, so in the mean time, have a great day!!

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mychemicalficrecs · 4 years

Note

anything with a similar to magic!verse? thank you so much for this blog

You're welcome, nonnie!

I haven’t read this fic, but based on tags and summaries I hope this comes close?

Modern Days Fantasy and Magic

MagicVerse by jovialien, Frank/Gerard, 256k, mostly Teen And Up Audiences. The Way brothers, and Ray, and Bob, are special but they don't really notice it that much; it's just their lives. Frank Iero is not special. At all. He's different, yes, he knows that. Everyone at his old school knows that. Everyone in his old town knows that. Every fucking jock and wise guy who was after a bit of a distraction or punching bag knows he is different and tried to punish him for it. But at least it was enough to get him out of that dump and into a new town, a new school, and maybe a new start. But when he meets Gerard Way, he starts to learn that different isn't always a bad thing - and special is a term that covers an awful lot.

More Than You Could Ever Know by mokuyoubi, Frank/Gerard and a few others, 58k, Explicit. Frank's been saying he's saving himself for Gerard Way for years, and discovering that his new house/bandmate is actually friends with Gerard should make things easier. But it's bad enough that Gerard remembers Frank as that one freakish, stalkery fan that followed them from venue to venue, not to mention the fact that it's hard to make any progress when everything that comes out of Frank's mouth makes him sound like a giant asshole. Oh, and how Frank's trying to keep his stupid elf magic from outing himself and Brendon to a national audience. Featuring Panic! as a fivepiece, My Chemical Romance (where Bob's still around) +Matt.

burned, about to burn, or still on fire by inlovewithnight, Gabe/Mikey, Gabe/Pete, Mikey/Pete and more, 25k, Mature. Sex, drugs, rock & roll, psychic abilities, and a few shapeshifting dragons. (Or: Gabe is a dragon, Pete is his treasure, and Mikey is a pyrokinetic who lights his fire. From New Jersey pop-punk to rehab and starting over, they orbit each other.)

Mythical Affairs by vampirexchild, Frank/Gerard, 55k, Explicit. Frank Iero has always had the strange ability of being able to sew up his own wounds without stitches, heal a broken animal with a single touch. Once he is introduced to the brother of his best friend, he may finally discover that he isn't the only human to posses an incredible power.

Give Me A Reason To Believe (Failboats In Love) by Acadjonne, Frank/Mikey, 14k, Teen And Up Audiences. On the night of October 31st, Linda and Frank Iero welcome a baby boy into their family. He weighs six pounds, four ounces, and is nineteen inches long. They give him a family name, and he becomes the third Iero man to bear the name of Frank. A year later, on All Hallow's Eve, a sleeping baby is taken from his crib and replaced with a fake. The babe will later be taken from the hands of the goblin that stole him, and he will be raised by two rowan treefolk, a house brownie, and some pixies. ----- When Ray walks down the stairs to the Way family basement, the last thing Mikey expects to see is a scrappy and long-haired form following behind him. But as he later finds out, Frank is almost always unexpected in the best of ways, the rest of the world be damned.

Saving Witches? Hunting things? The Family Curse? by Honestmouse, Frank/Gerard, 104k, Not Rated. Finally, life is getting good. After the hell they went through so soon after they met, they deserved this. This happiness. It's all going so well. They're both surprised by it honestly, but not willing to question it. Who cares if Gerard is still a little( kinda a lot) over protective of Frank. Who cares if they are so in love that after only a few short months they're moving in together. Frank is completely safe, he knows this. If only he could convince Gerard of that.

The Plant Shop by moss_and_rocks, Frank/Gerard, 16k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. Based in a universe in which Wicca is the most dominant religion. Frank Iero is a chubby ray of sunshine who owns a plant shop. Gerard Way is an artist/barista who wants to buy a plant. Flirting and very unique dating rituals ensue.

My Boyfriend's a Vampire by dangsu, Frank/Gerard, 19k, Mature. Frank Iero is intrigued by the raven-haired boy that smiles with his lips but frowns with his eyes. ~ Or how Frank Iero scores a vampire boyfriend.

Frank Iero & the Elementali by xcrossxoutxstarsx, Frank/Gerard, 29k [WIP], Explicit. All Frank wanted was to live his life. Not necessarily a normal life, because he wanted to be a musician, the kind of musician who has a band and goes on tour all over the world, plays his music in front of thousands of people and maybe, just maybe, finds someone to share his life with until the day he dies. But of course, that’s exactly what didn’t happen. Apparently, the universe decided that was either too much to ask or too lame of a goal for him to accomplish, because somehow he ended up being miles and miles underneath New Jersey, trying to understand what the hell is wrong with him and what the fuck did he do to deserve all that’s happened since Gerard Way appeared in his life. Don’t take me wrong, I love the guy. But God, I wish he hadn’t come into the shop that day. Maybe things would be a little bit normal still.

Hocus Pocus AU by orphan_account, Frank/Gerard, 19k, Teen And Up Audiences. Hocus Pocus AU. Frank's new in town, and his new best friends think it'd be awesome to check out the old Way Cottage on Halloween. Frank thinks it'll be the best birthday ever. What he gets is two eighteenth century witches and a lot of strange situations.

Stairway to Heaven by fleurdeliser, tuesdaysgone, Grant/Gerard, Frank/Gerard, Frank/Grant/Gerard, 58k, Explicit. Father Way accidentally taps into the memories of an angel, and stumbles into the middle of a millennia-long doomed romance.

If You Go Down To the Woods Today... by SaskiaK, Frank/Gerard, 25k, Mature. The guys are sure of a big surprise when they discover the secrets of a cursed forest, the setting of their new video shoot

Me and My Shadow by SaskiaK, 15k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frankie is a trainee fairy godfather. Gerard is a struggling artist with low self-esteem who happens to be Frankie's first client. Frankie really only wants to help but when Gerard is accidentally separated from his shadow, he can only watch as it enjoys the life he always wanted. When he finally realises his shadow is taking over, will he be able to regain control over it and his life?

Kiss The Bottle by cellphonecharm_au, Frank/Gerard, 36k, Explicit. A drunk wizard slips Frank a love potion while the band is in between tour dates. Chaos and mischief ensues.

By Fate Alone by DrGraves, Gen, 37k [WIP], Teen And Up Audiences. ...ultimately, there was no answer until whatever was going to happen, did. The future was still an uncertain wasteland, and they were peering through time with a lens the size of a pinhole. Even though his brother has the uncanny ability to see forward in time, Mikey Way's future is still uncertain. After Gerard has a vision of Mikey's untimely death, the race is on to save Mikey from his fate. Fate, it seems, has her work cut out for her.

Inked by pyrchance, Frank/Gerard, 28k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frank has always wanted a tattoo. He's pretty sure seducing the witch lurking behind the band room is the only way to get one.

#frank/gerard #gabe/mikey #mikey/pete #frank/mikey #grant/gerard #frank/grant/gerard #gen #fantasy #magic #modern day

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remedialpotions · 5 years

Text

Lost and Found

A/N: Hermione turns 40 today - so I wrote fic about it ☺️ Thanks to @aloemilk for giving it her magic touch.

Summary: Two birthdays, thirty years apart.

Word Count: 3,404

Rating: K+, just for the verrrry brief implication that two married adults might be about to have some sexytimes (scandalous!) 😜

FFN | AO3

***

September, 1989

Hermione walked slowly through the rows of desks, her patent-leather saddle shoes ringing out against the linoleum floor. The stack of delicate, pale pink envelopes in her arms was so tall that she could hardly see over it, but with each desk she passed, it grew gradually smaller, and soon she could hold them all easily in her hands.

Few faces looked her way as she passed. One boy, Marcus Abernathy, picked up the envelope in his pudgy hands with a look of curiosity mixed with disdain.

“What’s this?” He ripped recklessly through the flap of the envelope, even though Hermione’s mum had told her not to bother with sealing them properly, with the glue, since they weren’t going into the post.

“It’s an invitation to my birthday party,” said Hermione, feeling her cheeks go pink as Marcus stared at her, his expression blank. “It’s on Saturday, the sixteenth of September - well, my actual birthday is on the nineteenth, but since I’ll be ten, my parents said I could invite everyone in the class-“

“Oh.”

Marcus shoved the invite, pink envelope and all, into his rucksack; the paper caught on the zipper and tore. Without another glance at Hermione, he spun in his seat and started a conversation with Henry Grant.

[[MORE]]

Well, thought Hermione sniffily, she did not want an unmannered lump like him at her party anyway. She and her mum had planned a very classy sort of day, with tea and finger sandwiches and elegant pastries, and she didn’t want any messy boys breaking the china or chewing with their mouths open.

She turned down another row of desks, surveying the rest of the classroom as she went. Most of the envelopes were still right where she had left them, neatly in the upper left corner of the desk. Which was not cause for concern; once everyone stopped socializing, they would definitely notice the invitation.

As she approached the back of the classroom, her stomach turned over. Miriam Palmer was holding court with her usual small crowd of admirers, who typically didn’t pay Hermione much mind. But then again, they had invited her to work on that group project during maths last week, and since then, Miriam had even started waving hello to her during morning drop-off. Besides, she and her friends did seem like the type to enjoy a nice, sophisticated tea party…

Squaring her shoulders, Hermione marched up to them.

“Hi,” she said, unsure why her voice was shaking. “Erm, it’s going to be my birthday next week, and I’m having a party-“ She thrust the envelopes at them, ignoring the furtive glances they exchanged. “It’s on Saturday, the sixteenth, even though my birthday is on the nineteenth - it isn’t like you can have a birthday party on a Tuesday, can you, not if you want anyone to be there - well-“ She swallowed. “You’ll need to RSVP by the twelfth, my parents’ phone number is on the invitation, so just have your mum or dad ring to let them know you’re coming.”

Miriam’s lips stretched wide over her face. “Thank you,” she chirped, pushing her silky blonde hair over her shoulder. “It’s very nice of you to invite me, but I’m afraid I can’t make it. I have a prior engagement.”

Even to Hermione’s young ears, the words sounded stilted and rehearsed - like Miriam’s mum had taught them to her.

“Really?” blurted Hermione. “What is it?”

“I have a prior engagement,” Miriam repeated, “but thank you.”

With a hurried nod, Hermione turned on her heel and started toward her desk at the front of the classroom. Seconds later, there was a clatter as all of Miriam’s notebooks and pencils fell suddenly from her desk to the floor.

It wasn’t until the Thursday night before the party that Hermione’s mum knocked on the door to her bedroom.

Sitting up on the bed, Hermione carefully placed a bookmark into her copy of Emma. “Come in.”

Her mum entered and perched on the end of the bed. “Hermione, dear,” she began gently, in the same tone she had used when Hermione came down with pneumonia last year, “I haven’t heard from any mums and dads about your party. Didn’t you pass out the invitations?”

“Yes,” replied Hermione warily. “Everyone got one, I made sure.”

And she had. She had watched as they went tucked into bookbags or between the pages of notebooks, watched as people pulled the hand-written invitation from the envelope to read it. They were taking them home, she had told herself, so that they could ask permission from their parents to attend. Part of her had really believed it, too.

Something flickered on her mum’s face. “Well, it must just be a busy weekend for a lot of people. But your Gran will be there, and all your cousins, too - Freya and Gemma are so excited. It’ll still be a really lovely party, dear, okay?”

“It’s fine,” said Hermione, turning back to her book, desperate to escape into a fictional world. “I didn’t want a big party anyway.”

•••

September, 2019

“So.” Ron nudged her ankle with his toe. “What do you want to do for your birthday?”

“Nothing,” replied Hermione, never lifting her gaze from the file on her lap.

“You never let me do anything for your birthday.”

“Because I never want to.”

“Oh, come on.” Ron inched closer to her on the sofa. “It’s going to be your fortieth-“

“Don’t remind me-“

“-so we can’t do nothing.”

“We really can.” She planted the files on the coffee table and shifted, pulling a knee onto the cushion to face him. “It’s just another year, it’s not a big deal to me. It won’t be much fun anyway, the kids are both away at school now and I can’t stop worrying about how Hugo’s settling in.”

“But he’s doing fine,” said Ron, surprised. “Neville said in his letter last week, he’s doing really well.”

“Oh, I know, I’m sure he’s doing well in classes, he’s smart, but Neville’s not there in the dorms or the common room, he doesn’t know what really goes on with the other kids, you know?”

Ron paused, watching her, and then scooted until they shared the same cushion, his arm snaking around Hermione’s shoulders.

“I know, but remember? Neville said he’s been sitting with the same group of kids every day in the Great Hall?”

“With them or just near them?”

“Hermione,” said Ron patiently. “He’s making friends. He’s all right.”

“I suppose.”

Logically, her worry was both useless and unfounded. Her son took after his father: he was a bright, friendly, outgoing child, and he possessed not an ounce of shyness. He was not the sort of student who would correct his classmates when they answered a question wrong or try to tell them what to do. He had older cousins watching out for him and a sister who had no qualms about telling anyone what was on her mind.

Ron was right; Hugo would be just fine. But fitting in seamlessly, without pain or struggle, was still something rather difficult for Hermione to comprehend.

“So, your birthday,” Ron piped up after a minute or two of contemplative silence, kissing the side of her head. “Why don’t we just go to dinner? We could invite Harry and Ginny, George and Ange - I’m sure my mum and dad will want to do something-“

“That’s fine,” she interrupted with a steadying hand on his leg. “You can invite whomever, but nobody needs to make a big fuss, it falls on a Thursday and everyone’s got work and kids and their own lives to deal with. It’s fine if it’s just the two of us.”

“All right,” said Ron, taking his arm back and pushing up off the sofa. As Hermione pulled her files back into her lap, he wandered into the kitchen, where she could hear him opening cupboards. “What kind of cake d’you want?” he called.

“What?”

“For your birthday.” The cupboard hinges creaked again. “I’m gonna bake you a cake.”

“I’m not turning seven, Ron, I don’t need a cake-“

“If you don’t choose, I’ll just decide on my own, and what if I feel like making a carrot cake that day-“

“No!” she shouted back, thankful he couldn’t see her face scrunched up in silent laughter. “Chocolate, then. Please.”

“Chocolate it is.”

In the days that followed, each and every evening was marked by Ron returning home from the joke shop, kissing Hermione on the cheek (or forehead, or lips, or on the back of her neck to make gooseflesh pop up on her skin) and advising her of another friend or family member who would be attending her birthday. Which was lovely, truly. He was the one sending owls to everyone, and popping round the market to pick up more cocoa powder for her cake, and contacting the restaurant to reserve a table. She was not unaccustomed to this sort of behavior from him - he never seemed to realize how wonderful he was unless she told him, and even then, he never believed it was anything remarkable - but more than once she thought of stopping him, pulling the quill and parchment from his hands and telling him that what was doing was lovely, but he didn’t have to do it.

Rain spattered the windows as dusk gave way to dawn on the morning of the nineteenth of September, not that Hermione really noticed. Her attention had shifted wholly to the man currently dragging his lips up the column of her throat with near-agonizing laziness.

“Morning,” he mumbled against the edge of her jaw before brushing their lips together. “Happy birthday.”

She laughed against his kiss. “Is it?”

“It’s about to be.”

He kissed her again, deeper, and she sank back into the lush blankets as the buttons loosened on her pyjama top…

It was rather worth her tardiness to work. Her mood now brightened, she set to work reading through old case law in preparation for an upcoming hearing, and became so involved that she hardly noticed when lunchtime arrived and brought with it a flurry of owls to the Ministry offices from all over Britain. One particular tawny owl came tumbling through the private fireplace in Hermione’s office, two parcels tied tightly to his leg.

She jumped up from her desk to help him, setting him upright and fetching the cargo. Both were clumsily wrapped in brown paper and addressed in felt-tip marker:

Hermione Granger (aka Mum)

Ministry of Magic

Department of Magical Law Enforcement

London, England

She fumbled with the string on the first parcel before finally using her wand to severe it, and then carefully peeled away the paper without ripping it. Inside she found a folded sheet of parchment and a pair of mittens, hand-knitted with deep aubergine wool.

Dear Mum,

Happy birthday! I hope you like the mittens and that they fit. I made them myself but Lucy’s the one who taught me to knit, she said there’s a spell to make it go faster but she wouldn’t teach me that part of it so I did it the Muggle way.

I hope you have a great day!

Love,

Rose

Hermione took a moment to imagine her daughter - who played Beater on the Quidditch team and bore perpetually-skinned knees as a child and received detention in her first year for trying to find a unicorn in the Forbidden Forest - sitting down and quietly learning how to knit from one of her cousins.

Hermione set the mittens down, gingerly, and picked up the next parcel. It was significantly heavier, and took longer to unwrap thanks to the sheer volume of Spello-tape that her son had used to secure it. Inside, she found another folded bit of parchment and a slightly lopsided ceramic mug glazed in blue paint.

Where would he have even gotten the clay to make it? There was an art supply store in Hogsmeade, but first-years didn’t even have access to the village. He had to have enlisted the help of one of his older cousins.

Dear Mum,

I hope you like this mug, it’s so you have something for when you’re working at night and want a cup of tea. Or you can keep it in your office, that’s okay too. Your other mug has a chip in it so I thought you might want a new one.

Love,

Hugo

P.S. Happy birthday! I forgot to write that before.

All these years, she had thought Ron was the one orchestrating her birthday and holiday gifts from the kids - and when they had been toddlers, of course he had been, just as she had done for him. But now they were miles away, and they had taken time away from their friends and Quidditch and the unending magic of Hogwarts to do something for her. She didn’t even care if Ron had sent them letters to remind them: they’d still actually done it.

“Stay put,” she snapped at the owl, who had stretched his wings as though considering flight. “I’ve got letters for you.”

Pulling out a piece of stationery and a quill, she began to compose her words of gratitude to her children.

“Of course they got you gifts,” said Ron, though he grinned, when Hermione showed him her bounty that evening at home. His sleeves were shoved up to his elbows and his hands were lightly dusted in flour. The work surface was covered in various measuring cups, sacks of sugar, a carton of eggs. “Our kids are good kids, y’know.”

“Yes, of course I know that.” Hermione shrugged off her cloak and started toward the hall closet. “I just didn’t really expect - well. What time is our dinner reservation?”

“Seven,” replied Ron, holding a teaspoon up to eye level as he poured vanilla extract into it. “And don’t worry, I’ve got something for you too.”

Hermione paused in the process of toeing off her shoes. “I wasn’t worrying - you don’t ever have to get me anything.”

“Well, just so that you know that it’s something more than just, er, what I gave you this morning.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at her and dumped the vanilla into a mixing bowl.

With a playful roll of her eyes, Hermione retreated to their bedroom to change.

By the time she emerged, he was sliding the cake tins into the oven, and then he went to have a shower, since he never could manage to bake anything without making a mess of himself. He had timed it out perfectly; the sponge cake had cooled with just enough time for Ron to frost it before they had to depart for the restaurant.

“Want to have a slice now?” asked Ron, studying his handiwork. “A pre-dinner snack?”

“You’ll ruin your appetite.”

Ron shook his head in affected disappointment. “After seventeen years of marriage, I really thought you’d know me better than to think my appetites are at all ruinable.”

“Oh, come on,” said Hermione, dragging him to the door, “let’s go.”

She was not sure what she had envisioned for the evening when they arrived at Il Stregone, the new Italian restaurant near the Leaky Cauldron. Quite a large part of her had imagined that their grand table of well-wishers would need to be slowly broken down as guests failed to appear, until she and Ron ended up tucked away at a small table in the back of the restaurant. She would have been perfectly fine with that. It was unreasonable to expect everyone to drop their lives, on a weekday, just because the anniversary of her birth had come around again.

Instead, they were swept to a back room of the restaurant, where they found Harry and Ginny already waiting for them, glasses of wine in their hands.

“Happy birthday!” Harry exclaimed, rushing over, and Hermione found herself enveloped in what would be the first of many hugs this evening.

Ginny hugged her next, and placed a glass of red wine into Hermione’s hands, and then George and Angelina arrived, the latter gifting her a bottle of champagne, the former tossing out good-natured jibes about Hermione’s old age.

And so it went: Hermione’s parents arrived with Molly and Arthur, who had helped them access Diagon Alley; then Bill and Fleur with more champagne; Charlie, who had spent the last month in Britain working with a colony of Welsh Green dragons; and finally Percy and Audrey, who apologized profusely for being late, though it wasn’t even ten minutes past.

Hermione had never been one for big celebrations. She and Ron had not even had a proper wedding, choosing to elope instead, and she had never once regretted it. But as she looked around, watching as Harry clandestinely stole a noodle from Ginny’s plate and as her parents attempted to explain their mobile phones to Arthur, it did not feel one bit like the sort of forced social gathering that she despised. It just felt like people she loved, all in one room.

“We don’t have to stay late,” Hermione remarked to Ron even as, across the table, Harry ordered another bottle of Chianti. “Everyone’s got work tomorrow, they shouldn’t feel obligated-“

“Hermione,” said Ron gently. “Look around you. Everyone’s having a good time, I didn’t have to twist anyone’s arm to get them to be here.”

She looked around again; it did appear that Ron was right.

“But anyway,” Ron continued, and his hand slipped into hers under the table, “I’ve got to talk to you about your gift, because you’ve got a couple choices of what it can be.”

“I told you that you don’t have to get me anything-“

“Option one,” said Ron loudly over her, making her shake her head as she laughed, “is going down to the Magical Menagerie and picking out a new kitten.”

“A kitten?!”

“If you want-“

“The thing about it is that if you’re going to get one kitten, you’re better off getting two at once,” Hermione explained, mind racing about a thousand miles a minute, “since Kneazles are such social animals, they learn from each other-“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Ron held up his free hand. “Who said anything about a Kneazle? I was talking about just a, y’know, regular cat-“

“Crookshanks was part-Kneazle,” Hermione said firmly, “and he was the most wonderful cat in the whole world-“

“He definitely was one of a kind,” said Ron carefully. “But all right, I hear you about the two kittens thing. I’ll let you think about it. The other choice is a holiday, just me and you. I was thinking Paris.”

“Ron,” said Hermione, even as her heart swelled with affection for him, “that sounds incredible, really, but it’s too much - even tonight is so much more than enough, I don’t need anything else.”

“I know you don’t need it, but I want to do it.” He dropped a kiss on her cheek and reached for the half-full bottle of wine on the table in front of them. “Just think about it.”

And she did. She actually couldn’t stop thinking about it, even as they hugged everyone goodbye on their way out of the restaurant, even as they changed into pyjamas upon their arrival home. They sat on stools at the island counter, cups of tea accompanying thick, fudgey slices of cake, Hermione drinking from her new blue mug.

She had tried to protect herself from it. She had, countless times, tried to tell Ron that there was no point in making a fuss over it, that it was just another birthday and everyone had them so there was nothing special about hers. But yet everyone had been there, and they’d stayed late and George even had tried to coax her out to the pubs after, but she had resisted. Her kids had owled handmade presents all the way from Scotland.

“Ron,” she said, breaking the easy silence between them. He turned to look at her, licking chocolate frosting from his fork. “Have I ever told you about my tenth birthday?”

“Don’t think so,” he said. “You told me about your eighth, I think-“

“Oh, the biking trip,” Hermione recalled with a little chuckle. “Yeah, that didn’t go so well.”

“But tenth, I don’t think so.” He poked his fork into his slice of cake. “Why, what happened?”

“Nothing,” said Hermione truthfully, smiling at him. “It’s not important.”

#happy birthday hermione!#hermione granger #ron weasley #romione #rhr #my writing #watch as I project my own issues onto a fictional character 😅

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