#i have a meeting tomorrow with my advisor about questions i have but like god all this information online is so confusing & contradictory | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

generallybrontidefeelings · 3 years

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Stressed

Rating: NC-17

A/N: Brought to you by this post. I'm tired and sleepy and don't want to make any decisions. The degree is an actual MS you can get from American University in DC. U of Tennessee’s anthropology dept. hosts what’s called a body farm. It's a lab for forensic pathology students. Do NOT I repeat DO NOT look up pictures.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader, Marcus Pike x you

Summary: Marcus Pike is an associate faculty member at your forensics college. You ask him to be your second reader for your thesis, even though you have a huge crush on him. Nothing is better than something, right? By the time you pass your exam, you're so pent up you could scream.

Warnings: cadaver talk, pining, age difference, some power dynamics?, annoying college talk, sex, dirty talk, a God awful metaphor curtesy of Blanche Devereaux, 39

“Take a deep breath.”

You huff in a small shallow breath. Then let it out, and take in a longer, fuller one.

“Now let it out.” You let your cheeks puff up as cool air streams past your lips. “You’ve made huge improvements, and you’ve studied hard. The paper exam will be easy, and the oral will be a cinch.”

You gulp. “I know. It’s just...pre-show jitters, you know?”

He gives you a full smile, and flips the document shut. You hand him the binder clip, accidentally brushing his fingers when you do.

"Anything else I can do for you?"

You swallow, fiddling with your paper edge. God you feel like a twelve year old. You're fucking twenty-seven and about to apply for the FBI, why are you such a sap? He’s not available. Not even remotely. He will be gone in a year, back to the Bureau. There is no reason to nurse a crush. And you curse yourself for asking a man you’re attracted to - you, idiot, idiot! - to spend more time with you. Even if it is reading your dull chapter.

"No, I have everything I need, thanks."

"Then scoot. I have to read like...thirty pages of Tanner's chapter before he gets here."

You pull your bag to your shoulder. "you're not going to get that far," you scoff. The tensing in your shoulders relaxes a little when you stand to leave.

"We'll see," he says. He opens the door of his office for you. You glance back once more, and he's still in the doorway watching you go. "See you tomorrow."

"See you." Your mind swirls back and forth between thoughts of Mr. Pike, your thesis, Pike, your oral defence, your paper exam in two days, Marcus crossing his ankles in his reading chair. And you walk. Straight ahead, not looking back. But when you get to the door handle you turn around. And he's still there. Watching.

You've never been so stressed in your life.

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You met Marcus Pike on a muggy afternoon in August deep in the heart of Tennessee. The air warped off the pavement as you drove together to the School of Anthropology to visit your cadaver lying relaxed and prostrate in the middle of a fenced field. The air is already warm, then lightning flashes in the clouds to your right, and plopping rain drops scatter across the lawn, and dampens A-0017’s second hand suit. His raisinette hands lie against the grass almost like he’s communing with the earth. You watched the water hit his face, and permanently closed eyelids, and shaved head.

You had no business being so fidgety while kneeling next to a cadaver. Agent Marcus Pike and the facility director chat a couple feet away, leaving you to your business with A-0017. Pike had never been to the school’s mysterious forensics lab, even though he had plenty of time to when he was earning his own masters. That’s what he said in his email to you three weeks earlier. He’d heard a first-year student was running a fibrous material experiment and asked to tag along. And you said yes. Why not? He was faculty. It wasn’t unheard of. His email was so polite too, letting you know if you weren’t comfortable he understood. Pike. The name rattled a memory somewhere. So you emailed him back, and the next morning he sent you his itinerary: he would meet you in Tennessee. He’d even pay for the rental car.

You sent your advisor a quick text to ask if he was ‘crazy.’ She’d sent back the laughing emoji. No, she said, Marcus Pike isn’t a crazy. You’ll like him.

You did like him. He was waiting for you at the Hertz desk, and heat licked up your skin when you realized - he was striking. He was the type of man you’d make eyes at in a bar without any hope of even getting a number. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, and he had a softness brought on by a light scruff that didn’t hide his dimples. You barely registered that he was apologizing for not getting to introduce himself before flying out, but promised he was who he said he was. Even pulled out his credentials.

“Bureau?” you said to his badge. “I thought you were an associate professor?” You want to smack yourself.

Oh, “I am,” he replied. He dug in his wallet and pulled out a campus ID that matched yours. “I’m taking an interim year. I thought teaching would be a nice way to ease into DC life.”

Now he was here, sweating under the storm clouds while watching you unbutton A-0017’s shirt, and half listening to the director tell him all about how they kept the lawn looking green despite, ahem, fluids. You sternly told A-0017 to be on their best behavior while you pulled their shirt back to examine some fiber swatches stapled to his rubbery chest.

On the flight back Pike asked you all about your thesis plans. You stuttered as you began. He waited, patient. You were writing on how the FBI could contribute to cultural repatriation efforts internationally by returning art pieces. Do you know what it could do to boost scholarly opportunities? The doors it could open! Why put it in cold storage when it could revitalize movements? Art breathes, after all. You were exhausted by the time the plane landed. Both from answering questions, and from keeping a steadily building tension under wraps. You hoped he didn’t notice how you crossed your legs.

“I’d love to read it.” He handed your backpack down from the overhead bin.

“Maybe you should be my second reader.” You got serious when his face perked up. “I still need one.”

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That was nine months ago.

Your exams are in a week, and instead of thinking about preparing, all you can think of is that once everything is turned in, you probably won’t see Marcus again. He’s been your anchor these last months, and you’ve gotten used to his solid presence and encouraging platitudes. You cup your hot cheeks because it’s a dirty thought.

He lets you work in his office for a couple hours a week every week. The crammed little space is tight quarters, but he makes room for your laptop anyway. Sometimes you worked together heads bent for full time. Sometimes he read pages from your thesis, and you help him grade some papers from his first-year art history course. And sometimes you drink three pm coffee together and don’t work at all. It’s your favorite time of the week. The glow his praise gives you is embarrassing. And he’s an easy companion - nope, colleague. Your heart beats and your mouth waters every time you’re fifteen feet from his office door. The cold door knob jolts you took. You harbor a secret. Keep it warm in your belly. It swirls hungrily deep in you.

But now it’s a problem. You’re so distracted. Every time you leave his office, you’re tense from want. Your body is already over-caffeinated and achy from sitting in hard library chairs so long. But you keep going. Every time an anxious heat lights up the alarms in your head your instinct is to ask him what to do. You have to rest your hands in your head and remind yourself: he isn’t your babysitter, he’s a grown man who doesn’t have boundless time to tell you what to do. You have to figure it out yourself. Even if you really just want him to tell you what this or that section needs, is the title here misleading, is it lunch time, do you think the tone here is condescending?

What do you think? What do you want it to look like?

You think you want to grab his dumb button down collars and bite his lip. You want it to look flushed and tousled and desperate. You want to ride him in his reading chair with the door locked. It just isn’t fair.

The night before your first exam you take z-quil, drink lavender tea, and read a chapter of your favorite book to relax. Your phone buzzes at nine. It’s Marcus: good luck! You’re going to do great! Well. Better take some more Z-quill now that your heart is palpitating.

You pass both tests in excellent standing - MS in International Relations: complete. Pike attends the oral exam. Your skin goes hot when he smiles at you when the committee declares you exceed expectations. He invites you for a celebratory drink in the next couple days, which means you have two days to sternly wrangle your crush back into the dirty corner she came from.

You fail miserably.

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“Look,” he says, setting his beer down on the glass bar counter. “I know it’s not my business, but you still look stressed out. Are your grades bothering you?”

The rim of your gin and tonic is wet with condensation from where your finger circles it. “No, they’re great.”

He bumps your shoulder with his. “Then what’s the damage? You’re jumpier than a…” he trails off thinking a good metaphor. He squints at you a little.

“A virgin at a prison rodeo?” you supply. He inhales sharply, eyes wide. “You can laugh.”

“I didn’t know you watched ‘The Golden Girls,” he says. His tone is admiring. “I was going to say jumpier than a graduate student giving their defense.” You purse your lips when he raises his eyebrows at you. “Can I help at all?”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob when he takes another sip of his beer. The soft orange lights in the bar spill around his jaw and throat, they flicker in his irises. His face in three quarter profile is august. You’re utterly exhausted from the polite ‘student mentor’ dance you’ve had to do for months while keeping your desire at bay. And more than that, you didn’t want to answer. You wanted to show him and let him decide. The sultry washboard and piano music give you that last boost.

You make sure he’s watching you, then you slowly reach out and wrap your fingers around his wrist.

Then you wait.

Marcus pauses from lifting his beer bottle, eyes glued to your hand on his wrist. It’s petite against him. He stares at your baby blue fingernails pairing beautifully with his Stirling watch - and he feels himself harden.

All the skin on your body stands at attention when he meets your eyes. Everything in them tells you he wants you just as bad. There’s a hesitant curve above his eyebrow though. You get it. You were his student - he’s such a sweet man he wouldn’t even dream of using a power dynamic like that to get laid. Your breath comes in short heaves.

“The semester ended thirty-six minutes ago,” you say over the music. He takes a deep breath. You aren’t his student anymore. Not according to the school, anyway.

You want him to decide. If he doesn’t, you’ll go home and fall apart under your fingertips thinking about how hot it would have been to lift your dress and sit on his cock while wearing your thigh highs.

“Do you want to leave?” You nod, resisting the urge to bite your lip.

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Marcus’s apartment is homey. Streetlights flood the floor of the living room through the street facing windows. You turn this way and that to inspect the dark areas that look like bookshelves while he hangs up your coat. You squeeze your hands at your sides, because this is happening. You’re in his house. The hardwood floor is cold under your stocking feet.

You jump when he puts his hands on your shoulders from behind you, holding you a mere inch from his body. You bite your lip when his nose bumps into the back of your head.

“Are you sure about this?”

“You already asked me that,” you reply, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. You want so badly to tell him to tell you what to do. That you don’t want to make any decisions. Brain is worn out. That you want to please him, and not think. Oh, to be a freshmen simply sponging up information.

“I know,” he slides his hands to your biceps and turns you around. “I can check in again, can’t I? He cups your face when you nod. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes, please,” you have to stop yourself from saying something incriminating, like mister Pike, or sir, or professor.

You clutch the front of his button down to anchor yourself when his lips brush yours. His mouth is soft. It coaxes you to open so he can dive into you, his tongue swipes your bottom lip, and you respond by pressing into him. You stay pliant under him, letting him lead. Your legs feel on the verge of collapse when you break away. You can’t stand it anymore.

“I want to suck your cock.”

Both of you freeze. For a second you wonder if you’ve given him a heart attack. But you watched his thighs on the car ride back and couldn’t stop thinking about kneeling between them. Your mouth waters. Marcus can’t breathe. He’s straining against his zipper. After your declaration he wants it too.

“Okay, honey,” he breathes. He brushes your ear with his thumb. “If that’s what you want, we’ll do that.”

He tries to draw you backward toward his room where he can turn on a lamp and properly pay tribute to your body, but you pull him back. You tug him to his mid-century armchair - he has the twin to it in his office. His mouth goes dry. You have to know. He looks into your face, and from the way you’ve averted your eyes, you know.

“Please?” you say. It sounds like a sob.

From this close you can smell the vanilla and bergamot of his soap. He sits, waiting for you. When you don’t move he holds his hand out for you to take.

“Come here, honey,” he draws you close. The top of your dress swings a little and he groans when he sees the break of your dress to what he thought were tights. Marcus studies your face in the second hand street light - your mouth parted, your eyes blown wide. Your hand in his is hot. “Hey, if this is overwhelming, or not what you want-”

“It is,” you correct him.

“Tell me what’s wrong then,” he requests. You feel pained. If you don’t say it now you never will.

“Tell me what to do.” Your head aches from the stress of carrying it for so long. “I’ve had to make my own decisions for months, and I don’t want to anymore. Just - for five minutes-” you bring your hands to your cheeks and press them against your hot skin. You watch as he realizes what you want. He nods in slow motion.

“Okay,” he says. “Kneel for me.” He gets even harder when you sink to your knees. Your hands rest in your lap. Waiting. He can’t believe this is happening. Thank goodness he’s going back to the Bureau in three months. He couldn’t face the other faculty - fuck, your advisor - after this. Leaning forward he cups your chin and kisses you. You squeeze your thighs together. He kisses your ear and says lowly, “take my cock out, honey. I want you to suck me off.”

When you take him in your mouth as far as you can, you look into his face. His mouth has fallen open. His ears have turned red from flushing. It’s indescribable. It makes your mouth water further around his hard length. It’s heavy on your tongue. You move up and down his shaft leisurely, trying to savor it. Letting saliva run down onto his skin as your tongue works the spongy head. You reach up to work the base with your hand when he tells you ‘no’.

“Just your mouth.” Fuck. You moan around him as a ripple pulls from deep in your core. The vibrations of you moaning make him jolt and heave. For a few moments he apologies while you breathe deeply, then resume. You take a mouthful of him. It’s feasting. It’s mindless.

His fingers brush the side of your face, and tenderly cups the back of your head. You want to make him understand this is what you want. So you slide down as far as you can comfortably, and wait. Swallowing thickly around his length

“Fuck, honey,” he groans. He gets it, taking both hands and moving your head the pace he wants. You can tell he hasn’t been asked for this often. Maybe ever. You close your eyes and just feel. His cock filling your mouth. Aches forming around your jaw. Tears leaking out of your eyes from your concentration. Your pussy wetting through your underwear. Marcus pulling your hair. You swallow hard, then he stops. And pushes you off.

You whine in protest.

“I hear you, honey,” he says softly. His voice is hoarse. “Another time. I want you to unwind right now.” Your pussy clenches.

He takes you back to his bedroom and helps you undress. He lifts your dress over your head, and kneels to help you out of your thigh highs. One day, if you’ll let him, he’ll fuck you with them on, but he likes to see all of a woman the first time he does anything to her. He kisses the bit of skin above the waistband of your panties before standing to kiss your lips. Your help him push them down your hips until they fall to your ankles. The soft gasp he lets out at the sight of your underwear and bare body is nothing short of gluttonous.

“Lay down.”

He strips while you watch. He does it without taking his eyes off of you. There’s hunger in them. This man has an appetite, you know it. The fabric rustles pleasantly between the sound of both of you breathing. Far away, ambulance sirens blare in another neighborhood, but here in his apartment the wet sound of cars passing in the rainy street are the closest accompaniment.

“I want to touch you here,” he tells you, palming your sex and making you squeak. It’s so forward.

“Do it,” you breathe, and part your legs further for him. He leans in and kisses your temple, murmuring ‘good girl’ and you swear you could black out.

You’re already so wet when his fingers part your folds to greet the new territory. “Did sucking my cock get you wet?” He sounds amazed. He tastes one fingertip before putting it back to tease your folds. “I wonder how wet you would be just holding it in your mouth while you read.”

“Oh-” a ripple works down your spine. He smirks. The tip of his finger brushes just inside your lips to tease your entrance.

“I’m going to put my fingers in you. You,” he pauses to kiss your cheek, “relax. You earned it.” He rubs his nose up and down yours, and you nudge him back just as he slips one long finger into you. You’re glad he’s being sweet like this. It’s the perfect blend of firmness and care. You want him to dominate you one someday, maybe, but right here and now, the combination of his low voice and steady fingers is ideal. Marcus kisses your cheek and mouth as he works his finger in and out of you. It’s thick and reaches further than you ever could. You spread your legs even further to tell him, more.

Without removing his hand he moves down your body to lick your clit. He sucks and flicks it as he coaxes more wetness out of your leaking cunt. Carefully he pulls the finger out and presses his wet hand to the inside of your thigh to keep you open. He laps into you, covering the muscles with lubricant because you’re going to need it. You see his face just as he decides you’re ready; it’s contemplative, like he’s concentrating. Then he slides two fingers deep into you.

“Oh, fuck, that’s so fucking good,” your voice crescendos. You reach for his shoulder as he comes up to lie beside you. His skin is warm under your palm. You buck your hips looking for something else, seeking, wanting-

“Stay still.” You still immediately. “Just feel it, baby. I want you to be ready for me.” You know what he means. His cock is thick and smearing against your hip. He was big in your mouth, he’s going to be big while pushing into you. His fingers keep moving while he kisses the tips of your nipples. When he takes one between his teeth and tugs you break. Your mouth opens, and your legs clamp reflexively around his wrist. Your pussy gushes around his fingers - you can feel it. You can feel how his movements change from a drag as a slide. He keeps pumping. He doesn’t give up until he’s sure you’ve felt every aftershock. He’d love to take his time and work a third in one day - if he can - but tonight, he wants to move on. After you swallowed his cock in his sitting room chair he’s been thinking of rewarding you.

You feel him slip his fingers out, and roll away to the nightstand. He looks back at you, and his eyes soften a little before he asks, “do you want me to use a condom?”

“No,” you say and reach for his bicep to pull him back toward you. He comes willingly. “I have an IUD. And I’m clean.” He smiles, flinging the packet over his shoulder. It makes you giggle, but it sounds hysterical to your ears. You watch him reach down and pump his cock with the hand that was just inside you. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

“Look at me,” he orders. Your eyes snap open. Marcus crashes his lips on yours. The hand not dripping from your cunt cups the back of your head. “I want to see your eyes while I fuck you.”

His blunt head breaks into you, you lose all thought. He sinks further in, until you’re squirming on his length because he’s stretching you. You suck air in and will your body will stay still like he suggested for his fingers. You look into Marcus’s eyes the whole time, trying to tell him how good he feels. You can’t make the words leave your throat. He pulls your head to him, kisses your mouth until you compose yourself and lie still. Then he gets to work. The breadth of him stills you anew. For the first time in months you fully relax, hardly making a sound as he thrusts steadily. You stare into Marcus’s eyes while your mouth falls open as he slides into you, and listen to the wet sounds of your pussy and the bed frame creaking.

Then he starts talking.

“Do you know how good you look in those blue trousers? I want to grab your ass every time you wear them,” he rumbles. His pace picks up a hair, and he feels harder in you somehow. He drops to his forearm. “I love watching it when you walk out of my office.” You knew it. “And that damn cardigan you never wear a shirt under? Those buttons slip right open, don’t they?” He punctuates it with a deep thrust that makes you squeak. “Answer me.”

“Yes.”

“Wear it over for dinner. I’ll bite your tits through it.”

He fucks into you harder, sending shivers up your spine with every thrust. It moves you up the bed until you have to reach a hand up and press back against the headboard. You clutch him with the other, looping around his shoulder to feel the muscles in his arms pull and tug as he moves in you, working you up to another release Soon enough, the coil in your belly tightens and he reaches to worry your clit with deft fingers. His eyes never leave you. You think this man could make the hardest fuck feel like making love.

“I need more,” you tell him. You’re too embarrassed to ask for what you want. A tear leaks out of your eye because his thickness is so good, but you want something else too. You always underestimate him. He grins because he knows - he’s a detective. He figured it out. He leans down to rest his forehead on your temple.

“You’re doing so well,” he says. You arch up into him, your breasts brush his chest. “Your wet pussy is so sweet. It’s taking me so well. Are you gonna be respectful? Gonna listen?” You have to hold your breath as your hips tense. “Be good and come on my cock.” Oh fuck. “Say it.”

Your voice is wet with joy. “Yes, sir.”

“Such a good girl.”

Sparks lick up your back and through your cunt, forcing Marcus deeper into when you lift your lips. He slows to let you enjoy all your release. He kisses your neck, your jaw, your lips. Then when he hears your content sigh, he buries his face in your neck and chases his own release. He comes with an accompanying rumble from deep in his chest. You moan in return and lift your lips to catch him as he slumps, barely holding his weight off of you.

Water runs in the washroom as you tug the sheets back. The light clicks off, and Marcus appears with a washcloth. His dimple appears when you lean back and let him clean your tender flesh. He sits on the edge of the bed next to your hips, running his knuckles on the soft side of your breast.

“Stay the night,” says. “I’ll cook you breakfast.”

“Hm,” you say, mock contemplative. You run your fingers down his chest. He preens under the affection. “I will. I feel really good.” Your cheeks tingle at the admission. He smiles wide and bright.

He comes back from putting the cloth in the hamper. You roll so he can run his hands the length of your side

“Thank you,” you murmur. He lifts his face from where he’s been peppering your waist with kisses. His brow is furrowed in amused confusion. “For being good to me. For caring about what happened to me.” You’ll tell him the horror stories your friends have from their college another time.

He sighs and cups your cheek. “I like doing it. You’re bright. Supporting you is a privilege. Especially when I know that brain is going to put us all to shame one day.” You could cry.

“I’ve liked you since the body farm,” you admit. He wrinkles his nose. “I know. Not very romantic.”

“I liked you since you thought my campus ID was more official than my FBI badge.”

“I didn’t think that!”

“Get some sleep,” he says. A wicked glint comes to his eye. “I am going to wear you out before lunch.” You wiggle to get comfortable in the sheets and he curls over your back to hold you to his chest.

Orange light peeks through the gap in his blackout drapes. You eye him over your shoulder then settle into the pillow. All the tension in your shoulders is gone.

part 2

#marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #the mentalist #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #reader insert #fanfiction #writing #the mentalist fanfiction #I took some liberties with UT's school of anthros forensics lab #it does exist #DO NOT LOOK UP PICTURES #IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH #DON'T DO IT #I AM NOT SQUEAMISH AND DO RESEARCH WITH CADAVERS #BUT IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH #DONT #DO #IT

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theladyofdeath · 3 years

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Tempting the Fates {Chapter 4}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

Word Count: 2550

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Apollo

– God of light, prophecy, inspiration, poetry, the sun, music and arts, medicine and healing

Aelin tried to convince herself that she got up and got ready two hours early for class because of her busy schedule. She kept telling herself it was for the meeting she had with her advisor, about a possible internship at the end of the semester.

She knew that both reasons, while extremely important, were full of shit. She knew she’d showered, blow dried and curled her hair for Rowan. It wasn’t that she was trying to impress him. She’d already done that and the chance she had to be with him had come and gone.

No, now it was about proving to him that even though this class may be a gen ed, she was taking it seriously.

Dropping the class had crossed her mind. She really didn’t need to take it, she could still find a different one to pick up. But she didn’t want to think about the sort of impression it would leave about her.

If there was anything to know about Aelin Galathynius, it was that she was not a quitter, nor did she run from her problems.

Or heartaches.

With one last look in the mirror, and a whistle from Lysandra, Aelin was out the door and hurrying across campus. She grabbed a coffee on the way, but avoided her usual place, knowing full well that Rowan enjoyed the same famous cafe that she did.

He wasn’t there yet when she got to the hall, but she took the same seat she had the class before.

She wondered if Rowan would be looking for her this time.

She quickly shook the thought away.

With her hot coffee on the corner of her fold up desk, she was pulling out her notebook and a pen, waiting anxiously for class to begin.

For him to walk through the door.

Apparently he liked to be right on the dot, though, because students continued to wander in, but he did not.

She was tapping her pen against her notebook, doing her best not to stare at the clock. She was just anxious for her day to start. It wasn’t that she wanted to see Rowan.

Professor Whitethorn, she amended in her head. She had to quit thinking of him as Rowan. She couldn’t think of him like that anymore, his body pressing into hers, lips on her neck, as he—

Shaking her head, Aelin sighed and suddenly realized that the rest of the class had hushed. She was so focused on reprimanding herself for her highly inappropriate thoughts that she hadn’t noticed him come through the door and begin setting up for class. When she dared to glance towards the front, she found his eyes on her. He quickly looked away, going back to his laptop and setting up the PowerPoint on screen.

Maybe he hadn’t been looking at her.

Maybe it had all been in her mind.

But she didn’t think it had been.

He had been watching her.

“Happy Thursday, class,” he began, as the title page of his presentation flashed onto the board. “Glad to see you all showed up again. Must mean my first class didn’t suck.” Quiet laughter thrummed through the room. Aelin couldn’t muster a laugh, though. “On Tuesday, we covered the basics. So, today… Sorry, we’re doing that again.”

More laughter, especially from the pretty, flirty girls up front.

Aelin couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

Which, when she settled her eyes back on Rowan, he definitely saw.

Come on, get your shit together, she chastised herself. With her back straightened, she gave him her full attention.

She took dutiful notes, but his slides didn’t hold much in the way of information. They were mostly headers, with a few bullet points. Most of the important information, information she knew would be critical for homework or exams, came straight from Rowan’s mouth.

It was clear that he loved mythology, that it wasn’t just a class his aunt had tossed his way and told him to figure it out. He was a trove of knowledge and she noticed he had a habit of going on slight tangents when he got going on a topic he was clearly interested in.

After a student asked him to clarify what he meant about Hercules not being Zeus’ only son, he ended up talking for nearly twenty minutes about what the beloved Disney movie had gotten wrong. Aelin had stopped taking notes and was watching him go on and on about how Hades, while god of the underworld, was not necessarily a villain. He just had a job to do. A job that had rules that must be followed, or the consequences could damn not only him, but others involved. His eyes found hers again and the amused smile on her face fell as she made the correlation between their own situation and the story.

They held each other’s gazes for far longer than was appropriate, and Rowan cleared his throat, going back to the PowerPoint, and the predetermined lesson plans he’d made, which didn’t include children’s movie breakdowns.

She watched him.

She listened.

And she found it all fascinating.

Rowan peeked at the clock after going on and on, and stilled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, I guess I’ll end there. There is an assignment due by tomorrow evening. You can find and submit it online. It’s an opinion piece. I want a little insight as to why you were so interested to take this class, or what you’ve found fascinating so far.” He sat on his desk, his legs hanging over the side, his feet nearly touching the ground as he leaned back on his palms. Aelin found it charming. “You’re going to write a short essay telling me of your favorite deity. It could be one I’ve talked about so far, or one I haven’t. It’s your choice. But, tell me why they are your favorite. Give me a little depth. And, remember, this is a college course. Grammar counts.”

The clock struck nine-thirty and everyone began packing up. Aelin had been so captivated by his voice that she had to snap herself back to reality.

She quickly packed up her bag, alongside the other students around her. She noticed then how young they all were, and she was willing to bet that she may be the only senior on the roster. As she was descending the stairs, she found Rowan’s eyes on her again, but he looked away as his attention was taken, thanks to the group of girls who’d been sitting in the front row. She heard vague questions of whether they could all write about Aphrodite, since they all related to her.

The scoff Aelin thought she’d kept to herself had apparently been out loud, since not only Rowan looked at her as she passed, but so did the three girls. With his attention on her again, she decided to give him a little wave.

“See you later, Professor Whitethorn.”

If there was some extra sway to her hips, it wasn’t on purpose.

At least that’s what she told herself.

Two and a half hours later, Aelin was starving. She’d just gotten out of an extremely complicated lab and she could barely focus over the growling of her stomach. Twice, the instructor had looked over at her, half expecting to find a dog stashed under the table she was working at.

So when the class let out, she was hurrying toward the cafeteria ready to get a salad from the salad bar and a big ass slice of pizza.

It was all about balance.

As she was waiting in line to fill her plate with salad, she heard a voice behind her.

“Are you actually getting lettuce or just filling your plate with ham, cheese, and croutons?”

Aelin looked over her shoulder to find Chaol, her ex, suppressing a smile.

Aelin chuckled. “If it’s the same price, you may as well pile up on the good stuff.”

Chaol gave her a small smile. “Fair enough. It’s good to see you, Aelin. You look good.”

Things hadn’t ended the best between her and Chaol, but that had been just after freshman year. At least now when they ran into one another, they could have nice little conversations like this one.

No hard feelings.

“You too,” she said, and he did. He’d been in an accident the year before. They weren’t sure he was going to walk again. In all honesty, it was just good to see him on his feet.

“How long until your class?” He asked, sliding his tray along behind hers.

She glanced down at her watch. “About forty five minutes. You?”

“This is my long break,” he sighed. “I’ve got an hour and a half, but didn’t feel like leaving campus. Want to have lunch with me?”

“Sure.” Her smile wasn’t forced, it was easy and she was glad they could even do this, when three years again, they could barely be in the same room.

“I assume you’re getting a piece of pizza after this,” Chaol said with a smirk, nodding towards her plate. “So I’ll grab us a table while you get the rest of your lunch.”

She scoffed but nodded, and went off to get a slice of pizza. When she ordered her pizza, she also got a slice of cheesecake. It was his favorite, something she hadn’t forgotten, but it didn’t hurt that she liked it, too.

Finding him in the cafeteria, she sat down at the table across from him. “How’s Yrene doing?”

He blushed, and Aelin had to admit it was adorable. After his accident, he’d fallen for his physical therapist, and she was just as smitten with him. It must have been all the one-on-one sessions, because Chaol had never been one to let someone in. Aelin had met Yrene early in her med classes, but Yrene had specialized in PT and graduated in less than three years, taking as many classes as she could manage and even studying through the summers as well.

“It’s going good,” he said, at last. “We, uh, just moved in together, actually.”

Aelin lifted a brow. “That was fast.”

Chaol shot her a look.

Aelin laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I meant, good for you. I like Yrene. A lot. You two are good together.”

Chaol cleared his throat before taking a bite of his salad. “Thanks.”

Aelin chuckled, taking a bite of her pizza.

Chaol blinked. “What?”

“You get so uncomfortable when it comes to feelings,” she said. “Always have.”

His eyes narrowed at her. “That’s not true.”

Aelin stopped mid-chew and raised a brow.

Even Chaol couldn’t help but chuckle at the expression. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. What about you? Seeing anyone?”

Aelin hesitated, then said, “No.”

A slow grin appeared on Chaol’s mouth. “Didn’t sound so sure about what one.”

Aelin shrugged. “Better be nice or I’m not sharing this magnificent cheesecake with you.”

Holding up his hands in placation, Chaol went back to his salad. Rowan was a dangerous topic, one she wouldn’t share with anyone but Lysandra, so she summed it up quickly. “Met someone I thought I hit it off with. Turns out we didn’t work.”

He slowly nodded. Aelin knew he’d had a couple failed relationships between her and Yrene. “I get it, I’m sorry. Still sucks.”

Shrugging again, she turned to her salad. “It happens. Not a big deal. So if you’re living with Yrene, does that mean you and Dorian broke up? Or is he playing house with you, too?”

Chaol leveled her with a look. Chaol and Dorian had been best friends long before they came to the University of Orynth. They were both from Adarlan, both trying to get away from overbearing fathers, and decided college across the country was the way to do it. They’d been roommates every year and Aelin couldn’t even imagine Chaol living with anyone except Dorian. But now he was. “He moved into an apartment with Manon this semester when I moved in with Yrene.”

Aelin blinked. “Blackbeak? He moved in with Manon Blackbeak?”

Nodding, Chaol went on. “Apparently, they’ve been dating for about a year, without anyone noticing.”

Something in the way he said it told Aelin that he had noticed, but when Dorian had his mind set on something, there was no stopping him. And apparently, he’d decided to date one of the most terrifying women on campus.

Aelin’s response was eloquent. “Wow.”

Chaol grinned. “I like it when you’re caught off guard. It’s satisfying.”

With a scoffed she nudged his leg with the toe of her sneaker. “Well, I don’t. Dorian will be getting a very angry phone call this afternoon.”

“I’ll be sure to give him a warning,” Chaol promised.

Aelin chuckled, taking the last bite of her pizza. “It’s good to see you all happy, though. Really.”

Chaol’s eyes softened. “Thanks, Aelin.”

She nodded. “Even if I am terrified that Dorian will get eaten alive.”

Chaol laughed, and she had forgotten how nice Chaol’s rare, hearty laugh was.

She meant it. She was so happy for them, both of them. It was interesting how things changed over the course of a few short years.

Their conversation continued, as did the laughs, and before she knew it, Aelin glanced down at her watch. She had less than fifteen minutes to haul ass back to the nursing building for her next class. Chaol, who had much longer to sit with nothing to do, assured her that he could handle her trash and told her to get to class. With a hug, and a promise that they’d have dinner soon, all of them, even Manon, Aelin was hurrying out of the cafeteria building.

Somehow, the entire time she’d been having lunch with Chaol, she hadn’t noticed the set of pine green eyes watching her.

Rowan’s own break had been at the same time as hers, but the gen ed building was much closer than wherever she was having to run off to, so he had longer to sit and— there was no denying it— brood. They were halfway across the room, so he couldn’t hear any of their conversation. He had no clue who the tall man was she smiled at so often, but clearly they were very familiar with each other with how easily they talked. And he made her laugh. A lot.

Rowan wasn’t sure why that was what grated on his nerves the most, but it unsettled him.

Seeing Aelin with someone else, someone clearly her own age, it all unsettled him. He didn’t like it. Almost as much as her parting words in class had.

See you later, Professor Whitethorn.

It’s like she was mocking him, yet at the same time, she clearly wasn’t. She was doing exactly as he’d asked of her, seeing him as her professor, not as her boyfriend.

No, he reprimanded himself. Not boyfriend. Hookup.

They’d had sex one time, that didn’t give either of them any claim over the other. It was a hookup and nothing more. And she was his gods-damned student.

She was off limits, in every way possible.

Yet he couldn’t figure out why seeing her with someone else, someone she should clearly be interested in instead of him, had him seeing red.

#rowaelin #rowan #aelin #fanfic #fanfiction #tog #throne of glass #modern au #professor au #college au #sjm #snacmc collab #snelbx x tacmc collab

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xreaderxo · 4 years

Text

My Moon

Zuko x reader

Soulmate AU

genre: angst but with a good ending

warning: death, sickness

summary: Every Fire Nation citizen gets a tattoo on their wrist when they turn sixteen. This tattoo shows the first words your soulmate will say to you. Some people find this person immediately, and spend the rest of their lives together. Some people never get the chance.

"Why do you keep that ribbon on your wrist?"

Zuko clenched his fists by his sides, exhaling a breath of fire in frustration. Sozin's Comet was in three days, and this was the fourth time Aang has stopped training to ask a question that had nothing to do with firebending.

"Aang," Zuko said impatiently, "Stop avoiding training."

"But I want to know!" Aang clasped his hands together. "That's where your soulmate's first words are, right? Why are they covered?"

Zuko groaned. "Because I don't have time for a soulmate. I was too focused on finding you, and now I need to focus on defeating my father."

"So you've never looked at it!?" Aang's eyes widened before he lunged forward. "Let me see! Let me see!"

"Wha- Aang!" Zuko yelled, trying to pry the airbender off of him as he stretched his right arm out of his reach. "Get off!"

"I want to know what your words are!"

"Why are you interested in my love life!?"

"Because I would kill to have what you have and you don't appreciate it!"

"Don't appreciate what?" Sokka asked, popping a grape into his mouth as he walked up to the hill where the two were sparring.

"Sokka!" Aang shouted. "Take Zuko's ribbon off!"

"Ooh, I love annoying Zuko!" Sokka said gleefully, grabbing Zuko's wrist and ripping the black fabric off. "Uh, why am I annoying Zuko?"

"Because Zuko's never looked at his soulmate tattoo!" Aang snatched a frozen Zuko's wrist and read it. "I want the last thing I see to be the moon," he read.

"Poetic." Sokka nodded approvingly. "I like them already, they like staring at my first girlfriend!"

Zuko blinked. "Wait, hold on- your first girlfriend actually turned into the moon? Like literally?"

That was a year ago. Zuko was Fire Lord now. Currently, he was headed to a secluded cliff he had found the day before to meditate. There was a sickness going around, and although it wasn't contagious, Iroh hadn't wanted him to be in a populated area. So, he was going to be alone away from other people.

Or so he thought.

He halted as he entered the clearing to the cliff. There was a person- you -lying down in the grass, staring at the moon. Remembering his tattoo, a spark of hope lit in his chest. He was Fire Lord. The war was over. It would be safe to fall in love. Maybe this was his soul mate.

His hope quickly turned to dread as he got closer. They had the sickness. Judging from their skin and frailty, they probably didn't even have an hour left.

Still, even if they aren't his soulmate, Zuko wasn't about to let anybody die alone.

"Uh, it's pretty cold out," he said as he got closer, and visibly winced. It wasn't cold. It was the middle of summer in the Fire Nation.

You shrugged, not having the strength to sit up to see who your soulmate was.. "I want the last thing I see to be the moon."

Zuko's breath hitched. "No," he whispered.

You chuckled bitterly. "We finally meet, and I'll be dead by morning. Sounds about right." you paused. "You can go, if you want. I don't want you to have to see this."

"I'm not letting my soulmate die alone," Zuko said determinedly, his legs shaking, and laid down beside you. You looked at him, and raised your eyebrows in shock as you recognized him.

"Well, look at that! If I hadn't gotten this cough, I would've been the queen!" you joked. "Nice to meet you, Fire Lord. I'm Y/N."

Y/N. It was the most beautiful word Zuko had ever heard.

"Just call me Zuko," he replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You two laid there for a few minutes, drinking in each other's appearances. You knew he was handsome, as you'd seen his face plastered all over the Fire Nation for years. First listed as a traitor and most recently, Fire Lord. He was even more handsome up close. His amber eyes had flecks of fire orange in them. And his scar? You thought that it was the most handsome part of all. It showed he'd been through something terrible, and overcame it.

Zuko couldn't believe someone so beautiful could exist. You were gorgeous. Stunning. Even in your frail state, your complexion blemished from the sickness, your cheekbones jutting out sharply, Zuko had never seen anything so divine.

"Y/N?" he whispered, his eyes locked with yours.

"Yes, Zuko?"

He gulped, bringing his other hand to cup your cheek and resting his forehead on yours. "Tell me everything about you."

And so you did.

You told him your childhood. You told him about the first time you broke a bone. You told him how you felt when your father died. You told him that your favorite food is Roast Duck. You told him that you always planned on naming your daughter Izumi. You told him how you donated everything you owned to the Ursa Medical Center that Zuko had recently set up. You told him how excited you were whenever you heard that the Avatar had returned, because finally there would be peace.

"I was so happy that it was you who became Fire Lord and not somebody else." You had your head on his chest at this point, his legs tangled with yours.

"Why?" Zuko's fingers were running through your sweat-soaked hair, the wetness not registering.

"Because," you hummed, "You betrayed the Fire Nation to help the Avatar. You were willing to leave everything you'd ever known to bring peace." you paused, tilting your chin so you could look at him. "Plus, you're pretty cute, too."

Zuko blushed as the corners of his mouth turned upwards. "You think I'm cute? Have you seen yourself?"

You chuckled weakly. "Yeah, I'm a real dime piece right now." Zuko's hand stilled. He leaned up on one elbow so he could look down on you.

"Y/N," he said seriously, "You are incandescently beautiful. You are oh so pulchritudinous. You are the most stunning of all of God's creations."

You smiled at him. If your body could produce enough water for it, tears would be running down your face. "Thank you," you whispered. As Zuko laid back down, you spoke again. "Now, tell me everything about you."

So he did. He told you about his mother. He told you about being banished. He told you how it was trying to capture the Avatar. He told you about his time in Ba Sing Se. He told you about his uncle. He told you about being friends with the Avatar, and joining their group. He told you what it was like to face Azula. He told you about how Aang and Sokka had ripped off the ribbon, which you both shared a laugh at.

He sighed. "I wish we had more time," he choked out. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know I just met you, but I can't imagine living without you."

"Well, that's the thing about soulmates," you replied, running your hand through his hair and bringing his head down to yours until your lips were centimetres apart. "We'll never truly be apart."

And then Zuko was kissing you. He was kissing your lips and your nose and your cheeks and your forehead and your eyebrows and back to your lips. He was kissing you as though he thought that if he kissed you enough, he could save you. He was kissing you as if it would be the last kiss you would ever share, which was likely.

You were the one to break the kiss, as you were losing breath. You could feel it coming, and Zuko could, too. "I- I don't know what to do," he whimpered, holding you closer. "We've only known each other for an hour. We should be able to have a life together, to grow old together. It isn't fair!"

"Shh, Zuko," you hummed into the hollow of his neck. "We'll see each other again, my love. And whenever you miss me, just look at the moon. This," you pulled back and gestured to the moon above, "Is our moon. Forever." You laid your head back on his chest, and your voice was barely above a whisper when you next spoke. "Can you sing me to sleep?"

Zuko's heart was breaking, but he couldn't say no. "Of course," he hiccuped, choking back a sob, before he began singing a song his mother used to sing him.

“Deep in the meadow, under the willow A bed of grass, a soft green pillow Lay down your head, and close your sleepy eyes And when again they open, the sun will rise.

Here it's safe, here it's warm Here the daisies guard you from every harm Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true Here is the place where I love you.

Deep in the meadow, hidden far away A cloak of leaves, A moonbeam ray, Forget your woes and let your troubles lay And when again it's morning, they'll wash away.

Here it's safe, here it's warm Here the daisies guard you from every harm Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true Here is the place where I love you.”

As he finished the song, his heart stopped. You weren't breathing. Agony, the worst pain he’d ever felt, ripped through his chest. An inhuman scream erupted from his throat as he pulled your body into him, his tears falling. He'd just met you, and yet you had become his world. And you were gone.

He stayed there the entire night until Iroh found him the next morning, still clutching your ice-cold corpse. Iroh's heart snapped, immediately knowing what must have happened. It took hours to pry Zuko away from you. He spent the next week crying into Iroh's shoulder. "I don't think she heard me tell her I love her, Uncle," he sputtered before another sob wracked his shoulders.

"She knew," Iroh assured him. "I promise. She knew."

He arranged a funeral for you that was fit for a Fire Queen, and had you buried on the cliff where you had met.

Fire Lord Zuko's reign lasted sixty-seven years. After much pressure from his advisors about an heir, he did end up taking a wife. Her name was Mikoto, from a noble Fire Nation family. Her soulmate had died as well, so it was a perfect fit. They both knew they could never love another, but they were best friends.

They had a daughter, who Zuko named Izumi. He was still alive whenever she took over as Fire Lord, and he'd never been more proud of anything or anyone.

And yet, he still missed you. He thought about you every day, and every night he would sit and stare at the moon. Sometimes he would cry, thinking about what could have been. Other times he would be happy, telling you about Izumi's accomplishments. He would always sleep with the window open, so that the last thing he saw before he went to sleep was your moon.

He died at the age of one hundred in his sleep, his face still turned towards the moon.

Zuko's eyes opened to find himself in the Spirit World face to face with Iroh himself.

"Uncle!" he cried, wrapping him into a hug.

"Hello, Zuko!" Iroh said with a smile. "It's nice to see you again!"

"Hey Sifu Hotman, you better give me a hug, too!" Zuko whirled around to see Aang, and his smile widened as he jumped into the Avatar's arms. Stepping back, Zuko noticed that Aang was a lot older than he was.

"Why am I seventeen again?" he asked.

"For the same reason that I am twenty-five," Iroh explained, "The age I was when my son was born. Here, you remain the age you were when you were at your happiest."

"I was happiest when I was twenty-one, when Katara and I got married," Aang explained. "You're seventeen because that's how old you were when you met them."

Zuko froze as he heard footsteps behind him, before whirling around.

"Hello, My Love," you said. You were healthy and in a beautiful red gown. Zuko's breath hitched, his eyes filling with tears. He ran forward to envelop you in a hug.

"I've missed you, too," you chuckled as he peppered your face with kisses. The two of you stared at one another, soaking in each other's appearances yet again. He rested his forehead against yours.

"We can finally spend forever together," he said in what was meant to be a whisper, but he was so elated that it came out as a yell.

"I can't wait," you replied in the same tone.

"I love you." The words Zuko had been wanting to tell you finally left his lips.

"I know," you answered, cupping his cheeks with your hands. "I love you, too."

As the two of you shared another kiss, the full moon above seemed to shine a little brighter.

#zuko x reader #zuko #prince zuko #zuko imagine #soulmate au #fire lord zuko #atla #a:tla #atla imagine #sokka #iroh #aang #soulmate zuko

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cuppimagines · 3 years

Note

Okay I’ve got this scenario in my head that’s been stuck for ages and it’s like

Imagine that you’re the young heir to a kingdom whose just risen to the throne and in front of yo subjects you’re the perfect ruler BUT

Little do they know you have two advisors behind the scenes (the general of your army and your prime minister) and they just dote on you but also speak condescending to you like “Oh, you were such good little princess today) and just ahshbdbd

THIS ONE i really really love, SO NOW, time to finally publish this one

CW: minor degradation

Word count: 1.8k

“Anyway,” you stood up, clasping your hands together as a sign the meeting was adjourned. “That should be it, I’ll have it seen to that we take care of this as soon as tomorrow.” It was a much more difficult winter than last year, and your council was meeting on the basis of looking to expand trade to avoid serious food shortage. You met with your court today to discuss that very thing, and like normal the situation seemed to have run as smoothly as it possibly could for the betterment of your kingdom. A difficult question, a possibly difficult solution, but bitten off piece by piece. Sitting right by your sides as they always do, the most loyal of your court, were General Theron Lowther, and your royal advisor, Richart Dutoit.

Lowther was a very strong sturdy man despite nearly reaching his 60s, broad shouldered, rough hands, neatly tied back long gray hair, and a scarred, war tattered body. He always seemed to have a scowl across his face, and when he spoke his voice was deep, booming, almost like he was some noble centuries old dragon. Richart, though a decade or so younger, almost seemed a bit more aged than Lowther because of his creased face, much more messy wavy dark hair, and his thin yet tall stature. Intelligent, polite, would always push his glasses up his long thin nose as he spoke to you.

“Your majesty, remember, tomorrow you have to attend the Frostends Festival,” a member of your court pointed out. “We have to make sure tonight your dress is properly fitted.”

“Yes, of course,” you said. “How could I forget? Winter has had its due, we might as well celebrate its end with something large.”

“Indeed,” Lowther huffed. “One more winter might do me in finally.” “You’ve said that for the past 3 winters,” you commented, which got a bit of a chuckle from the table, which went completely silent when Lowther glared in that direction.

“A cannon to the chest didn’t do you in,” Richart said. “And we had to use magic to mend those crushed bits of bone together.”

“Oh no need for banter any further,” you said. “I’ll be heading to my room, if we’re done for the night, dinner should be ready by then.” You were escorted out by guards, down to your bedroom. Quiet, windows foggy due to the snowfall, lighter compared to the harsh blizzards oppressing the kingdom for god knows how long. You started to undress in there, leaving your dress to the side, down to your silky white undergarments. Just as you were, the door opened, the sound of two sets of footsteps coming inside.

“Princess?” your shoulders raised and you turned around, nearly bare in front of your dear advisor and army general.

“Beautiful work as always,” Richart smiled, as he leaned closer and started to run his long fingers in your hair. “You always listen so well, you know exactly what we like to hear.”

“Still just a good little princess who does what she’s told,” Lowther smirked. “Speaking of such, dinner is ready in little over an hour, you know exactly what we’re here for.” He grabbed you by the waist, pulling you close to him, his lower half grinding onto yours through his pants. You bit your lower lip as you were already shaking from anticipation at what these two were about to do.

“Take off what little you have left, and lay on the bed,” he growled in your ear.

“We’ve been so busy,” Richart groped your breasts, tugging on a nipple through your shirt to get a small moan out of you. “Barely any time to fuck our cute little princess into submission.” When Lowther let go, you did as you were told. You started to remove your underwear, taking your time as you did it. You noticed how hungry they would look when you were a bit slower, and you started to walk to the bed. Your legs were spread wide, hand between them, looking on at the two men as you bit your lip in anticipation.

“Perfect~,” Richart smiled. “You’re positively adorable, princess~.” he walked up to you, leaning over to take the time to feel his hands across your body, replacing your hand with his between your legs to rub circles around your clit. You moaned softly, head leaning to the side, just as Lowther went to the other side of your bed, bulge already at half mast in your face.

“Go on,” he said. “I know exactly what you want.” You leaned forward, at first, kissing Lowther’s bulge through his pants. The fabric around it got wet with your saliva as you teased him and fondled his cock, covered in thick fabric that was still victim to being teased so heavily by your tongue. You stopped, letting out a louder moan as Richart’s fingers went deep inside you, already soaking your thighs and his hands as he pumped in and out of you.

“Oh you’re loosening up nicely around my fingers, princess,” Richart said. “Now be a dear, and quit teasing the general like that. You know what happens when you do.” Only then did you look up to Lowther, who was glaring down at you in lust and annoyance. Still, that didn’t deter you, and you only kept teasing him further, feeling his cock grow harder and strain further in his pants. You practically had the head of his cock in your mouth with a darker spot where your lips kept kissing and teasing his cock, but…maybe you pushed it too far.

Lowther huffed, pulling you by the hair to tug you away, and undo his own pants.

“Silly little princess can’t even unbutton a pair of trousers can she?” he growled. “Because of that I’m not gonna go soft, open your mouth wide.” You did as you told and opened your mouth, and as you did, Lowther thrust his massive, lengthy, beer can thick cock down your throat. You gagged and pulled at the sheets, tears stinging your eyes, unable to breathe.

“You know exactly what happens when you try and be a brat,” Richart said, pulling his fingers out much to your protest by whining around Lowther’s cock. Just as his fingers left you and you whined to have them back inside you, Richart smacked your cunt between your legs. You yelped and started shaking a bit, moaning in arousal while your mouth was muffled.

“Unless you like being a brat~” he said in your ear, grabbing the back of your head to push you further down on Lowther��s cock, your nose now touching his lower stomach. “Just remember, at the end of the day, you’re our toy, nothing else, princess.” Lowther pulled away, looking down at you as the precum dripped from his cock, mixed with your saliva. He smacked his cock against your face, laughing as all you could do was bring your hand up to rub it.

“Ohhh now you try to be sweet!” he laughed. “Oh princess, you’re lucky I love seeing that adorable little face of yours.” He laid down in the bed, grabbing you and pulling you into his lap. Richart was above the both of you, spreading your legs wide, and pulling his cock out of his pants. Though not as thick as Lowther’s, it was certainly much longer. Both of them were so much to take, but each time they had you shaky and gasping for breath.

“Ready for the both of us, princess?” Richart tilted your chin up, and you nodded at him, leaning in for a kiss, just as Lowther impatiently lifted your hips up, and brought your ass down onto his cock.

“Mmm, mmm, AH~!” you cried out, pulling away and turning your head as best you can to look over at the large man whose lap you were in. “Oh god- ah~! Sir, i-it’s been a while si-ince….”

“Since I fucked that tight little ass of yours~?” he grunted, each inch setting your body on fire with pleasure and pain mingled together. Richart soon grabbed your thighs, thrusting into your soaking wet cunt, and you tried to grab at him, moaning as your toes curled at the sensation of both men inside you.

“Ohhhh yes! Oh gods yes~!” Richart moaned loudly. “This is all you’re good for, a beautiful face and a body to fuck! Don’t you ever forget that!”

“N-no sirs! No! I won’t!” you moaned. Lowther kissed your neck from behind, his big strong arms wrapped around you while thrusting up into you with ease. This man’s core strength was absolutely amazing, and you knew you’d feel dazed and weak after all of this.

“You won’t forget what, princess?” Lowther moaned. “Say it-” he thrust his hips up into you, hard. “You know what we want to hear!” The sudden jolt, and the fact you were practically bulging from both ends lit all your nerves completely on fire, your eyes widening as you tried to clench on Lowther’s clothing, Richart’s the bed sheets, anything to have an anchor to grab onto as you could feel your mind melt with pleasure.

“I belong to you two~!!!” You moaned loudly. “I’m- I’m just a plaything for you! Please, use me as much as you want!”

“Oh good girl! Good girl~!” Richart moaned, his thrusts only getting faster and harder, breaking into a sweat from how excitedly he was pounding your soaking wet cunt. “Scream for us, princess! Show us how much you adore us!”

“Fucking take it all!” Lowther grunted and growled, like some aggressive, pent up beast. You felt close, oh god, they were going to tip you over the edge. You just moaned and whimpered pleads, pleads to cum, to get filled up by each of them. Your body tingled, you could feel yourself clench around the two men, and all of a sudden, you cried out, wrapping your legs around Richart to pull him in closely, feeling your orgasm tip over the edge. With that, you could feel both men cum inside you, filling you up to the brim. Richart hungrily began to kiss your face and neck, and Lowther aggressively bit down on your neck, causing you to cry out even louder.

“Fuck! Fuck…” Lowther let his grip on you loosen, and both men pulled out. You were laying right in between both men, exhausted, stuffed, your lower half completely numb. You felt Lowther kiss you and hold his hand, and Richart held you from behind.

“Good princess, such a good princess…” Lowther smiled. “You did absolutely amazing today.”

“We love you so much, you know?” Richart smiled. “You’ll always be ours, your highness.” You smiled, your eyes closed, completely exhausted and unable to move. Even if you could move, not like you wanted to. You felt completely safe in their arms, protected, and loved.

#cuppimagines #ns4w #ns4w text

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thedaggerlover · 3 years

Text

Drunken Antics

Basically, Poppy ends up babysitting two drunk 200 year olds. This takes place after the War of two queens and everything is peaceful. Well, as peaceful as things can get.

A03 link here

Poppy was surely regretting not taking up on Vonetta’s offer of going out to the fair by the beach. Instead, here she was, contemplating throwing her husband and his former bonded off the bridge so that she can stop being embarrassed by their drunken antics.

It all started when, earlier during lunch, Poppy asked her friends what they would all like to do for the rest of their day as she and Casteel finally were done with their meeting and appointments for that day (boring royal stuff, as Kieran liked to call them.) There was a debate on whether they should all go to the fair near the beach or have a quiet evening in a nice restaurant near the bridge. After a lot of polite discussion (anything but) , it was decided that Emil and Vonetta would go to the beach and Poppy, Casteel, Kieran and Delano would go to the restaurant.

After dinner, they decided to play a game of who could drink more alcohol, which Poppy cleverly refused to play. Halfway through the game, Poppy noticed Delano sneak off into one of the corridors with a mysterious blond man, drunkenly kissing each other. But, her husband and the other wolven were too concentrated on winning to notice what was happening. In the end, it turned out that both of them had drunk enough alcohol to have a massive headache for the rest of their lives.

And that is how she got stuck babysitting two 200 year old idiots. The trio was walking down by the river while people stared as their king and his royal advisor were singing while walking with their hands across Poppy’s shoulders.

When she decided that she finally had enough, Poppy started walking faster, mumbling, “ I am never going anywhere with either of you from now on.”

This got them to stop singing (more like wailing) as they jogged to catch up with her. And then Cas says, “ Why princess? Did you not like our singing?”.

“No”

“ No? I have a beautiful voice! Reaver said so too!” Kieran protested, attempting to look at Poppy with what she assumed was a pout but ended up looking like a fish mouth.

“No Kieran, what you just did was called wailing and Reaver was insulting you then, saying that you sounded like a dying cat.”

“Oh, how does a dying cat sound? I like cats, they don't sound so bad.” He responded. Then suddenly turned to Casteel and said, “ Cas, I want a cat!”

“A cat?”

“ Yes, a brown one, to match my fur!”

“ I want one too! A black one. To match my hair!” He turned to Poppy, pulling her hand, “ Poppy! We need a cat.”

“ Two cats,” Kieran added. “Yes. Two Cats!” Casteel amended.

“No, you two don’t need a cat. Or two, for that matter.” Poppy said.

“But whhhyyyy? They are so cuuuteee.”

“ We can even name them after ourselves!!”

“Yes poppy. Kieran is right . We can name them Cas junior and Kieran Junior!!”

“Casteel, Kieran,” Poppy started, her voice stern, her patience wearing thin, “ we are not buying cats and definitely not naming them after you.” With that they dropped their whining and whispered into each other’s ears about how mean their queen is.

When they were almost nearing the Castle, Kieran asks, “ Poppy, what colour do you think your fur would be if you were a wolven, would it be bright red ? like your hair?” Hearing the wolven’s question, Casteel made a face, Probably picturing a wolven with bright red fur.

Poppy huffed, “ I don't know , Kieran. Let’s just hope we never get to find out.”

"Why princess? I think you would make a cute wolven. with a soft and fluffy hide. I can cuddle with you in your wolven form" Casteel slurred.

"Because, Casteel, I would look like a fox if I was a Wolven with red hair."

"In that case, I can cuddle with a cute foxy-wolven."

"Penellaphe, the first ever Foxy wolven, nice title isn't it, pops? Is that a real word ?" Kieran asks.

"No, kieran, I prefer my current title as queen, thank you very much. And don't call me pops, that's a weird nickname."

"But is it?" Cas says.

"what?"

"Is it a real word?"

" No, Casteel, it isn't."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?" Poppy snapped. At this point , Poppy was almost sure she had reached the end of her patience and was ready to leave them out there in the cold.

" 'tis a nice word, it should be a real word."

"Maybe you can add it to the dictionary, then." Kieran says.

"But, how?"

"I don't know."

They remained quiet until they reached the Castle gates, where the guards helped Poppy hold Casteel and Kieran up who looked like they were about to pass out. As soon as they reached the main hall, Kieran fell asleep and another guard had to help hold him from falling face first on the floor. They deposit the wolven in his chambers and Poppy leaves with her husband after making sure that the guards won't let Kieran out of his chambers until morning. When they enter their rooms, poppy led Cas to their bed gave him a glass of water.

" What's this?"

"Water."

" I don't want water, 'tis boringg." He whined.

"In that case , drink this glass of hot cocoa milk." She said , offering the same glass of water. Casteel examined the glass for a second before practically inhaling the drink.

"Very good. Now get on the bed."

"Why?"

"Because, you need to sleep."

"Why?"

"Because, you are drunk and you will have a massive headache tomorrow."

" why?"

"I swear you ask more questions than I do. Shut up and get on the bed. Now"

"Okay....Gods, you are bossy and mean, like Kieran told." He complained, but obliged. But, when Poppy went to remove his boots and jacket, he jumped up. "No! You should not touch me! I have a wife!"

Poppy suppressed a laugh and asked, " And who is she?"

He was quiet for a while, and then said, " well, I don't remember her name, but she is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. She is kind and nice and funny.” Poppy’s face flushed. But, she didn’t interrupt him, she wanted to hear what he had to say.

“You know, she is so powerful, like, this much!!” Cas continued, opening his arms wide. Poppy giggled.

“Hey! Don’t laugh. She is a goddess, she can punish you!”

“Okay, sorry, continue.”

“Anyway, I love her so much, even when she asks me so many questions. And she asks a looooot of questions. Like this many.”

He said, gesturing again with his arms. “But don’t tell her that, she will get upset. I love it when she is curious. Promise me you won’t tell her?”

“Promise.”

“You want to hear a secret? My wife is so cute when she is angry, and she likes to stab people, she looks really nice when she uses a knife!”

Poppy could no longer hold in her laugh and she started laughing so hard , her stomach ached. Casteel just pouted, not liking Poppy’s reaction. When she could finally stop laughing, Poppy grabbed his face and kissed him deeply. He jumped back again, wiping his lips with the back of his palm. “No! I told you I have a wife!”

“Yes, you dumbass, and that wife is me!”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” She laughed again. And this time when she kissed him, he didn’t stop her. When they both pulled away, Poppy looked into his eyes and she knew she loved every bit of him, even the drunk and stupid part. “Well, it’s time to sleep now, big boy.”

Casteel groaned, “But, I don’t want to!!!”

“Will you go to sleep if I cuddle with you?”

“Yes.” Poppy quickly removed his belt and weapons and dressed herself in a simple nightgown and went to lay beside him. He wrapped his hands around her and laid his head on her chest. “Good night, Cas”

“Night.” He mumbled, sleepily.

After a few moments, they fell asleep, Casteel snoring slightly and Poppy playing with his hair.

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

#Casteel Da'Neer #prince casteel #poppy balfour #poppy x hawke #poppy x casteel #kieran contou #drunk fluff #one shot #vonetta contou #fbaa #tcogb #akofaf

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holycatsandrabbits · 3 years

Text

Tollense, an original serial romance by Dannye Chase, Chapter 1

A history professor falls in love with his best friend, a 3000-year-old vampire.

READ FROM THE BEGINNING: You are here!

Chapter 1

1993

Professor Liam Beyer was born a decade after the deaths of the last soldiers to fight in the US Civil War. Thus, he was not expecting to meet a Union Army veteran in his 4 o’clock symposium on the Battle of Antietam.

Liam noticed the man as soon as he walked in, and not just because it was odd for a member of the public to show up for a faculty lecture at the university. No, the man caught Liam’s attention because he was distractingly handsome. Literally, Liam was distracted enough to drop his pen onto the overhead projector, causing a giant shadow to loom over the map of Maryland on the screen behind him, as if a third army had materialized there in a dense offensive line.

The man was of average height, with a slender build. He had dark hair in a short, modern cut and wore a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with a faded label. He looked like he might be thirty, which was about the age Liam was, and so Liam did not immediately assume that the man had seen action in the Civil War. But there was something faintly strange about him, just in the way that he walked, light on his feet like a dancer, but stepping firmly, without a dancer’s well-practiced grace.

“General Lee,” Liam continued, in a slightly strangled voice, “of the Confederate Army, was, of course, outnumbered, but the battle was Union General McClellan’s to lose. Had he understood how superior his force was, had he taken more risks, he might have been able to deal a decisive blow to Lee’s army as it retreated. In fact, McClellan’s performance at Antietam was part of the reason that President Lincoln later removed him from duty.”

Liam put up a transparency of a white church with peeling paint, standing alone on a grassy rise. “On September 17, 1862, 7,650 soldiers died at Antietam, making it the bloodiest day for Americans in history. Two days later, a man named Alexander Gardner took some of the first widely-seen battlefield photographs of dead soldiers. Some were awaiting burial, and some were still lying where they fell. It was very difficult at the time to take photographs of battles themselves, as the technology involved careful treatment of glass negatives, and that was nearly impossible under battlefield conditions. But the dead do not move, and these photographs were so clear that when displayed in New York, family members recognized their fallen sons.”

Liam put up a transparency of one of Gardner’s photographs, young men lying on the ground in an oddly perfect line. The unknown man looked away.

oOo

Liam had grading to do after his symposium, but he walked to the campus union to grab a sandwich first. He was definitely not expecting Handsome Unknown Lecture Man to appear out of the crowd and drop into the seat opposite him. Liam was very proud that he did not choke on his bite of ham and swiss.

“I hope you don’t mind,” said the man. “I enjoyed your lecture. My name is Kurt.”

Liam put his hand out to shake. Kurt’s touch was faintly cold. “Liam,” he said.

Kurt cocked his head slightly to the side, as if assessing him. “I know. Liam Beyer, 27, assistant professor of history, specializing in battles. Is Antietam your favorite?”

“Um— one of them. I did my dissertation on it. On McClellan, specifically.” Liam felt slightly odd about the fact that this stranger knew who he was, but of course, it was all publicly accessible information. “Are you a Civil War buff?”

“Somewhat.” Kurt leaned back in his chair. “Antietam, god. I remember Bloody Lane— that’s what they called it after. The road was sunken in because so many wagons had gone by over the years. It was like trying to fight your way out of your own grave trench.” Kurt spoke with a faint accent that Liam could not place, something that seemed to shift from one place to another.

“You talk like you were there,” Liam said, smiling. “Are you a reenactor?”

Kurt gave a sharp laugh. “No. You?”

“I’ve been a technical advisor. It’s nice to meet other people who share my strange obsession.”

“Those pictures you showed,” Kurt said. “Photography is such a bewitching art. Those boys are long gone, but remain ever present in death.”

“You know, the war helped make Spiritualism popular,” Liam said. “It was so hard on the families back home to lose contact with their soldiers, not knowing what happened to them, or when, or where. They couldn’t bear it, and turned to mediums.”

Kurt smiled, and it made his bright green eyes sparkle with amusement. “Have you ever been to a seance?” he asked. Liam shook his head. “Most I’ve been to were quite boring,” Kurt said. “But every once in awhile—”

“That sounds like a good story.”

“I’ll tell you sometime.” Liam’s brain was already far too occupied with how attractive he found this poor man, and that was probably why the sentence sounded more like a salacious promise than it really was.

“So what do you do?” Liam asked faintly, crumpling his empty sandwich wrapper. “Are you a student?”

“Not at the moment. Just a fan of history. Of battles, actually.” Kurt leaned forward a little. “Liam, would you mind if I came to your office tomorrow to talk more? I have some questions and I think you might be the one to help me answer them.”

“I— of course.” Liam told himself that he agreed solely because he liked to talk about history with people, and that it didn’t matter whether or not said people were ridiculously attractive.

Kurt smiled at him again. “Until tomorrow then.”

On his way out of the dining hall, Liam was stopped by a student with a question about an assignment on Gettysburg. “I didn’t want to interrupt your dinner,” she said.

“Oh, it would have been fine,” Liam told her. “We were talking about the Civil War ourselves.”

The student gave him a confused look. “Dr. Beyer— weren’t you eating alone?”

oOo

In the end, Liam decided that as he’d never dreamed up a handsome man in quite so much detail before, that the student had been mistaken and simply had not noticed Kurt’s presence at Liam’s table.

And yet. There really was something very strange about the man. Liam couldn’t quite pin it down, just that there was a disconnect between what Liam was seeing and what he was feeling about him. For example, Kurt appeared to be thirty, but Liam would swear he was older. Kurt had looked perfectly natural at dinner, but it had also seemed like he didn’t quite fit in with his surroundings. Like if you’d taken a photograph of him at the table, he would have been slightly too bright, out of focus, or without a shadow.

Kurt’s knock on Liam’s office door finally came around eleven, and Liam was, he realized, far too happy to see him again. At first, nothing about the visit seemed terribly odd. They discussed Antietam again, then traveled forward to the Somme, and then much farther back, Megiddo and Kadesh. Kurt seemed to know less about those battles, Liam noted, but he was quite familiar with things taking place after Thermopylae in the 5th century BC.

It was easy to talk to Kurt, especially about interests they had in common, and as the conversation went on, Kurt seemed to relax a bit, which made Liam do the same. The day before, Liam had thought Kurt moved without grace, but that wasn’t exactly right. Kurt had a different kind of grace, a fluidity of small movements instead of large ones, an artistry shown in the fluttering of fingers while the rest of the man kept entirely still. The emphasis on such small motions seemed to draw Liam in, narrowing his focus away from his surroundings and onto his visitor. But at the same time, Kurt had such an air of other about him, that it was almost like Liam was looking at him through beveled glass, never quite getting the whole image at once.

However, Liam’s sense of ease around Kurt vanished entirely when another student knocked on Liam’s door with a question about an assignment. That in itself was perfectly normal, but during the whole time that the student was in Liam’s office, she didn’t speak to Kurt or apologize for interrupting their conversation. She didn’t give a single look to the chair that Kurt occupied beside Liam’s desk.

When the student had left, Liam leaned back in his chair, trying to fake the calmness that he no longer felt. “All right,” he said, watching his visitor carefully. “You want to tell me why I’m the only person who can see you?”

********

READ FROM THE BEGINNING: You are here!

Updates Fridays on Ao3 and DannyeChase.com (rated E), and Tumblr (rated T)

Want to create fic, art, or other works based on this series? Please do! Just dm or tag me.

My previous serials are for Good Omens: Mr. Fell's Bookshop and Love's Endless Light

My Carrd

#Dannye writes #original fiction #serial fiction #tollense #vampires #romance

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mostlycompetentwriter · 4 years

Text

Awaken

F/M Pairing: Y/N x Hwang Hyunjin (some mentions of Y/N x Seo Changbin)

Word Count: 7.5K

Warnings: Explicit smut and language, use of vibrators, Hyunjin is kinda obsessed in this one

Genre: College AU; Professor AU

Summary: When Y/N transferred into a prestigious all-girls university, she never expected to be on the receiving end of a very handsome professor’s near-constant attention.

It had been a difficult decision - transferring from my previous school into one of the most Elite universities in the world. I understand that it might seem contradictory, but there were several uncertainties that impeded my ability to make a decision. The first being an existential dread surrounding the idea of leaving behind my best friends, including my off-and-on again boyfriend, Changbin. The second reason involved my new university’s strict mandate that it would only accept female applicants.

Yes, the school only admitted women, and as someone who maintained a diligent sex life with previous boyfriends, I was not excited by the prospect of being forced into celibacy.

But the pressure from my parents and close academic advisors eventually forced my hand, and I found myself dragging most of my belongings out of my dorm room with a few friends helping me along. “What the hell is in this suitcase, Y/N?” Jisung asked, grunting with the effort of dragging my bag along the sidewalk.

“Probably just clothes,” I said, shrugging because I was trying to remain perfectly nonchalant about my transfer, even though I was having a total meltdown on the inside.

“I think that’s all of it,” Changbin said, and he was giving me that same somber look that I was starting to hate - the one that told me he wasn’t very happy about my transfer. “You know,” he continued, bracing himself against the side of my car. “If you ever need me, I’m only a phone call away.”

“Quit trying to get your dick wet, Changbin, and grab something!” Chan snapped. “Or, are those arms just for show?”

Changbin rolled his eyes, but he leaned down to grab my laundry basket before bringing it to the trunk. “Are you gonna miss us, Y/N?” Jisung asked.

“Not as much as you’ll miss me,” I said. “Who else will edit your essays, Han?”

Jisung frowned as if he was actually thinking deeply about my question. “Maybe I could just email them-”

“Jisung,” Chan interrupted, knocking against his shoulder with an affectionate smile. “There’s still one more box inside.”

“I’m on it!” Jisung shouted, and I grinned at the sight of the younger boy pumping his arms as he jogged back up the staircase.

“He doesn’t really get the severity of the situation,” Chan said, leaning next to me to against my car.

“It’s okay,” I said, looking down at my shoes. “I’ll miss all of you.”

“Y/N,” Chan said, “I thought we weren’t gonna cry until after you left.”

I sniffled around the rising urge to do exactly that before tossing my arms around his neck for a long embrace. “You’ll come see me, right?”

“Of course,” Chan agreed, pulling back to meet my gaze. “Ya! Don’t cry over this, Y/N. It’s supposed to be your big opportunity.”

“Yeah,” I murmured, but it didn’t really feel like it anymore, and when my eyes connected with Changbin’s, I couldn’t help but feel a terrible weight pressing down on my chest.

Maybe this was the worst idea ever, but I was already enrolled for the upcoming academic semester. I would do my best, of course, but I desperately hoped that my parents might reconsider another transfer. Because these were my friends (and my sometimes boyfriend), and I belonged with them.

“Don’t think too much about it,” Chan instructed me firmly. “Call us if you ever want to hangout.”

“I will,” I promised him, and he brushed a friendly kiss across my forehead. It was the ultimate sign that I had truly signed my life away on the enrollment papers for the school in the next town. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad once I made new friends, but at this moment, everything hurt and I was doing my best to hold myself together as I drove away with my old life waving goodbye from the rear-view mirror.

Upon the start of the Spring semester, I was officially moved into my new dorm room which I was sharing with an very enthusiastic young woman named Claire. Her optimism was unmatched, and she had spent most of the day dragging me around campus while pointing out anything that seemed remotely interesting. “You’ll love it here, Y/N!” she promised, and I feigned a smile mostly for her benefit.

“It seems nice,” I told her later on after we returned to our shared dorm room.

“Oh, yeah, the teachers are great!” she said. “What’s your schedule like?”

I shrugged with vacant dismissal, reaching into my bag to hand her the folded piece of paper I had received earlier that week. “You got in Mr. Hwang’s class!” Claire abruptly squealed. “You lucky bitch!”

“What’s the big deal?” I grumbled, snatching my schedule back out of her hands.

“The big deal!” Claire shrieked like I had just committed an unforgivable crime. “He’s only the hottest teacher on campus!”

I rolled my eyes because I should’ve anticipated something superficial. But I was beginning to understand that most of these poor girls were thirsty for anything remotely attractive, and I had even witnessed one girl lusting over a much-older professor just because he still had all of his hair. It was everything I feared about an all-girls institution, and I was beginning to experience the same mania as the rest of them.

But my thoughts usually went to Changbin, and there was no way I would ever fantasize about one of my teachers. “How old is he?” I asked.

“He’s only 27!” Claire giggled. “I’m not kidding, Y/N, it looks like he was literally sculpted by the gods!”

“That’s original,” I muttered. “Well, I hope he’s good at poetry.”

“Oh, he’s the best,” Claire assured me, but I didn’t think I could take her word for it because she was certainly biased when it concerned his looks. “He’s been published all around the world!”

“He must be decent,” I said because the school’s academic reputation wouldn’t allow anything less than acceptable.

“My friend had a class with him last semester,” Claire continued, and I regretted not changing the topic earlier. “Apparently, she could hardly concentrate on the lesson because she couldn’t stop staring at his ass.”

“Your friend sounds dedicated.”

“There’s also a rumor going around campus that he only got his position because he seduced our admissions advisor!”

I snorted at the idea. “I doubt I’ll be that interested in him.”

“Whatever you say, Y/N,” Claire sing-songed. “You’ll change your mind when you see him.”

“I highly doubt it,” I muttered, and I glanced over at the side table where my phone was waiting. “I’ll be back,” I said, and I left the dorm room and found myself in an isolated study room which I ensured was locked before dialing Changbin’s number.

Then, I settled down against the couch and closed my eyes, shoving my hand underneath the waistband of my sleeping shorts to gently graze my fingers against my clitoris.

Graciously, Changbin picked up after the fourth ring: “Y/N?” he said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Changbin chuckled, and the static from the phone made it sound far more guttural. I bit my lower lip as I dipped one finger inside my tight heat. “How’s your new roommate?” he asked. “Chan told me that she was unbearable.”

“She’s chatty,” I said, taking a deep breath before asking him: “Changbin, I miss you.”

He was silent from the other end, and I could only pray that Changbin had read the situation correctly, especially when I offered a quiet moan into the receiver. “Are you touching yourself, Y/N?” he asked, and I nodded even though he couldn’t see me.

“I wish you were here,” I told him, and I smiled at the familiar sound of Changbin’s zipper as he tugged his pants down those thick thighs that I loved.

“I’m here, babe,” he said, and there was a slight desperation to his tone. “What are you thinking about?”

“You,” I said, hissing around a stuttered exhale when I grazed a sensitive spot. “I’m thinking about your cock, Changbin.”

He moaned from the other end, and the slick sound of Changbin lubing up his erection was particularly raunchy. “I want you here with me, Y/N,” Changbin said, and I could easily imagine him jerking off his cock from behind my eyelids. “I’d have you on your hands and knees, fingering that little pussy of yours.”

I gasped at his words, arching my back against the couch as I shoved my fingers even further inside. Changbin had an uncanny gift for dirty talk that I attributed in large part to his irresistible baritone voice. “Tell me more,” I begged him.

“Are you wet?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Changbin growled. “I could just slide right in.”

“Oh, fuck,” I cursed, and I imagined everything as he continued to describe it to me - moving my fingers even faster at the phantom sensation of his cock filling me up so well like he always did whenever we had sex together. “I want to come so bad for you.”

“Then do it,” Changbin said, grunting from his end as he undoubtedly brought himself to completion.

And I eventually came with a loud moan - shameless despite the thin walls of the surrounding dorms. But I was on cloud nine, savoring the necessary heat of my well-deserved orgasm. “Call me tomorrow,” Changbin said after a while, and I had almost forgotten that we were still talking.

“Yeah,” I panted around a sigh. “I will.”

The bell-tower struck noon when I entered Hwang Hyunjin’s poetry class for the very first time. I had already anticipated a large class, but I was still surprised by the sheer number of students who were crowding the front rows of the classroom. I rolled my eyes because I was forced to sit at the back, and it certainly did no favors for my poor vision.

Regardless, I was also frustrated because there was a small part of myself which remained curious about this mysterious teacher. I could tell that all the other students were practically gushing with excitement, but I schooled my expression and slumped down in my seat as I pulled out a fresh notebook. What the hell were they expecting? A striptease in the middle of our lecture?

However, the most frustrating part of all was the grand entrance of the elusive teacher who had enraptured most of the population. And I couldn’t be any less impressed with him as I rolled my eyes over his tall, lean form. Yeah, he was pretty to look at, but he certainly wasn’t my type. I sighed as my mind instantly reminded me of an image of Changbin; specifically, a sweaty Changbin who had just finished up in the gym - wearing nothing around his waist except for a towel.

“Good morning, everyone,” Mr Hwang finally spoke, and there was a deeper aspect to his voice that I wasn’t expecting. “My name is Mr. Hwang, and this is our poetry 278 lecture.”

There was a collective sigh over his words, and I held back my laughter at the pathetic way everyone was swooning over him. “Let’s start with introductions,” Mr. Hwang suggested, and I groaned because I loathed ice-breakers. “When I call your name, you can give me your year and intended major.”

God, was this Elementary school?

Nevertheless, I waited for my turn, listening as the other students went above and beyond the call of duty to provide Mr. Hwang with as much unnecessary additional information as they could. “I study political science,” one girl said. “I was the leader of my high school’s debate club, and I won an award at the state convention.”

“Impressive,” Mr. Hwang said, and I briefly entertained the idea of the girl fainting on the spot. “Y/N?”

I glanced up to meet Mr. Hwang’s gaze. “Third year,” I replied. “I just transferred, and I’m studying English.”

“Oh, really?” Mr. Hwang inquired. “Do you have any interest in writing an honor’s thesis?”

I blinked twice at the question because he hadn’t bothered to push anyone else for something more. “I’d like to in the future,” I told him, and I squirmed around uncomfortably in my chair when his gaze lingered for several beats too long.

Thankfully, he quietly moved on, and I was able to relax in my seat once again. The lecture proceeded from there, and I sighed when I realized that we would be talking about Emily Dickinson who I had already studied numerous times in my other classes. But I guess that left me the rare opportunity to doodle nonsensical images on my notebook while thinking about my friends, wondering what Jisung, Chan, and Changbin might be doing at that moment.

In another universe, we could be sharing this class together, and I felt a pang of homesickness for my previous school as I listened to Mr. Hwang’s voice at the back of my head. But after another hour, our class concluded and I breathed a sigh of relief as I packed up my belongings. I wasn’t able to finish my picture of Munchlax, but maybe I could work out the details later on. In the meantime, I hoisted my bag over my shoulder as I tried to fight my way around the crowd of students who were all waiting around Mr. Hwang’s desk.

And I was almost at the exit when his voice suddenly stopped me. “Y/N,” Hyunjin said, and I paused mid-step because I wasn’t expecting to hear him call my name. “Can you stay behind for a moment?”

“Sure,” I said, even as I bristled at the thought of having to wait for those other girls to leave first.

They all insisted that they had so many questions to ask Mr. Hwang, and I was left to stew in the corner while crossing my arms over my chest. I had another class in half an hour, and I couldn’t afford to stand around all day while I waited at the behest of a teacher who had somehow won the affections of every student in this stupid school simply by being the prettiest in the room.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Mr. Hwang said with a bright smile to the last girl who scampered out of the room with a breathless giggle.

Finally, it was just me and Mr. Hwang, and I hesitantly walked over to his desk. “You needed to see me?”

“Yes,” Mr. Hwang said as he looked up at me from his grade-book. “Is there something wrong with the way I teach?” Mr. Hwang asked, and I was surprised to see him pouting at me with his lower lip sticking out.

“Uh, I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Hwang,” I said, adjusting the strap of my bag.

“Well, it didn’t seem like you were too invested in my lecture,” Hyunjin explained.

Oh, great, he caught me daydreaming about Changbin.

“I’m sorry, sir,” I said, searching for an excuse. “I’ve been having a hard time adjusting.”

“Ah, that’s right!” Mr. Hwang nodded. “You transferred here for the new semester.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, and I chanced a step back towards the doorway. “I’ll do better in the future.”

“Well, hold on for just a minute, Y/N,” Mr. Hwang said. “I’m here to help my students when they’re struggling.”

“It’s not really a struggle,” I said, but I held my tongue when he pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled something at the top.

“Here,” he said, holding out the paper for me to take. “It’s my personal phone number,” Mr. Hwang added with a wink.

Personal number? “Oh, thank you, sir,” I offered in return because I wasn’t sure what the appropriate response might be in that situation.

“Call me anytime,” Mr. Hwang insisted, and I couldn’t help but notice the mischievous gleam in his gaze like we were playing some kind of game and I was the one who was losing. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

One Week Later

Despite my new school’s formidable reputation, I was doing exceedingly well in all of my classes. Most of my instructors were greatly impressed, and a few English teachers had already brought up the prospect of mentoring me for the honor’s thesis. Yet, there was one class that I couldn’t quite get a handle on, and I was shocked to see another giant C- written across the top of my latest essay.

I swallowed hard when Mr. Hwang returned to the front of the room to conclude his lecture. What the hell was I doing wrong? I had even sent this paper to a former TA at my previous school who offered to look at it before I submitted the damn thing.

But instead of feeling disappointed about my failure, I sensed a rising anger directed at the man standing in front of the room. Everyone else around me celebrated their A’s while I was left with a nasty letter grade that would hardly reflect well on my GPA. What could the rest of my classmates be doing differently?

“That’s it for today!” Mr. Hwang announced. “We’ll pick up on this again next time!”

I frowned as I stuffed the essay at the bottom of my bag. It still wasn’t too late to switch out of this stupid class, and then I could finally re-orient my focus. “Y/N!” Mr. Hwang called out when I passed by his desk. “Can I have a moment of your time, dear?”

Dear?! “Sure,” I grumbled, once again waiting for the masses of Mr. Hwang’s admirers to leave the room before I confronted my teacher.

“Well,” Mr. Hwang began with an exaggerated sigh. “What will we do about these poor grades of yours?”

I bristled at the comment because it sounded strangely hostile - perhaps even threatening. “Don’t worry, sir,” I said. “I’m transferring out your class. You don’t have to concern yourself with me.”

I turned my back on Mr. Hwang as I started for the exit. “Don’t be silly, Y/N,” Mr. Hwang said. “I’ve spoken to your other teachers, and they tell me that this a requirement for your major. And I’m the only person who teaches the subject.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I hissed under my breath, but I did my best to retain a neutral expression as I returned to his desk. “What’s the problem, sir?” I asked. “I had the last essay peer-checked by a former instructor.”

“Our grading standards are much higher, Y/N,” Mr. Hwang informed me haughtily. “I think the real issue is your attitude.”

“My attitude?” I repeated - completely dumbfounded by the accusation.

“You don’t really show any engagement with the material,” Mr. Hwang elaborated. “You always come to class, but I can tell that your attention is elsewhere. And you don’t even bother to come to my office hours to talk about the topics we cover.”

“I didn’t realize, sir,” I said, and I was shocked that he considered me disinterested in my studies.

“It’s okay to ask for help, Y/N,” Mr. Hwang explained. “You’re the only student who never stays behind to talk to me.”

Because I have better things to compliment your face! “I have another lecture after this one,” I offered as a response.

“Then it seems to me like I should make an effort to meet you outside of designated hours,” Mr. Hwang said. “I have an apartment off-campus. Maybe you can come over this weekend?”

For a moment, I was completely stunned by his proposal. “I don’t think that’s appropriate, Mr. Hwang,” I said, taking a step back away from him.

“Why not?” Mr. Hwang asked. “It’ll just be me and you.”

“Uh, I don’t know...”

“Oh, Y/N, I have to insist,” Mr. Hwang said, and I watched him open his grade-book. “You won’t even muster a C in this class if you keep going at this rate.”

It seemed preposterous that I could make straight A’s in every other class but still fail this one at the same time. “I’ll think about it,” I said while doing my best to ignore his pleased smile.

It was late that night when my phone lit up with an incoming notification. I groaned in response because I wasn’t expecting anything from the boys, but then again, maybe Changbin needed fresh jerk-off material, and I could always send him a picture of my tits. But I was surprised to realize that I was wrong on all accounts, and my heart started beating faster when I read the message:

From Unknown:

Y/N, it’s Hyunjin from your poetry class.

Hyunjin? Oh, right, that was Mr. Hwang’s first name.

To Unknown:

Me: How did you get this number?

From Unknown:

H: The student profiles.

“It’s still an invasion of my privacy,” I grumbled.

H: We can be very casual with one another outside of class. Wouldn’t you agree?

I narrowed my eyes at the informal suggestion.

To Unknown:

Me: If that’s okay with you, sir.

I waited for several moments, but it seemed like Mr. Hwang was finally done texting me. I shrugged at the unusual conversation, but before I could place my phone back on my nightstand, it vibrated with another incoming message. This one had a picture attached....

“Holy shit!” I gasped, dropping my phone onto the bed as my heart started to thud violently inside my chest.

From Unknown:

H: Do you like it, princess?

“Is he crazy?” I decried, and my hands were trembling when I brought my phone screen closer. Because the attachment contained a very obscene picture of a dick, and I didn’t need more than two guesses to assume that it was Mr. Hwang’s.

My fingers were shaking as I stared at the image - zooming in closer to observe the delicate bead of precum glistening at the tip. There was also a hand wrapped around the base, and even though I didn’t have much experience with sex, I could still acknowledge that it was a very nice cock. But did I really just get a dick pic from my poetry teacher?

To Unknown:

Me: I’m not sure what you expect me to say.

I sent the message before attempting to fan my flushed skin - feeling overheated because this was not what I had been expecting when Mr. Hwang sent me the first message.

From Unknown:

H: It’s alright, princess. I’m not much for talking either. Why don’t you come over this weekend so you can show me your reaction instead?

Oh, god, I was definitely teetering on the precipice of very dangerous ground. I’m talking the same kind of inappropriate that could get him fired and me expelled. What the hell was he even thinking? Was Mr. Hwang trying to hit on me?!!

I shook my head because it was suddenly very difficult to concentrate, but I was also feeling the vestiges of panic creeping around the edges of my vision. My hands could barely hold the screen long enough for me to type out a quick response:

To Unknown:

Me: Maybe some other time.

The next morning, I was still shaken from my unexpected text conversation with Mr. Hwang. For most of the night, I simply stared at the ceiling while my phone continued to vibrate with incoming messages. Eventually, I was forced to mute his number, and I still couldn’t fall asleep.

I was barely functional the next morning, but I was also strangely horny, which is why I didn’t hesitate to encourage Changbin when he sent me a message asking if he could come visit. I waited and chose a time when my roommate would be gone - sighing in relief when I heard him knocking on the door. I threw it open quickly, and he was clearly caught off-guard by my eagerness. “I’m so glad to see you,” I said, and I didn’t hesitate to lock my lips with his, kissing Changbin with all the nervous energy that I had tried to keep to myself all weekend.

“Wow,” Changbin managed when we both pulled apart for air. “The no dick policy at this shithole has fucked you up.”

“Yeah? I need you to fuck me, Changbin,” I said, and he must’ve saw something in my eyes that changed his mind.

He pushed us both into my room, turning around to lock the door before reaching down for the hem of his t-shirt. “Bend over for me, baby,” he said, and his voice was husky as I took off my clothes and braced myself against the desk.

“I really need this,” I told him from over my shoulder - shameless as I explored every inch of his toned form.

“I got you, baby,” Changbin said, and he moved behind me to spread my legs, taking a few moments to finger me with his long digits, stretching out my opening while stimulating my clitoris with his thumb. “You definitely need to be fucked,” Changbin remarked. “Your pussy is so tight.”

“Please,” I whispered, and Changbin was quick to replace his fingers with the same cock that I often drooled over when I masturbated late at night. He set an urgent pace from the start, grabbing my hips between his hands to hold me in place as he filled me with his cock over and over again. “Changbin,” I whined, burying my face in my forearms and trying to ignore the pain in my stomach from where he knocked me into the wood on every thrust.

It wasn’t equivocal to one of our more passionate rounds of lovemaking, but it was everything that I needed. Enough to wipe all consideration of Hwang Hyunjin clear out of my head as I enjoyed the delightful friction of Changbin’s cock rolling against the constricting walls of my cunt. “It feels so good,” I whispered, and I closed my eyes in pleasure.

“Tell me when you’re close,” Changbin said. “I wouldn’t want your roommate to come back.”

However, the inherent risk of being caught by my roommate was also a factor in my rapid ascent to orgasm. “Coming!” I shouted while feeling myself unravel around his cock as he rammed himself inside.

Thereafter, I settled on top of my bed while Changbin tied off his condom and tossed it into the trash. I smiled when he crawled in next to me, reaching for his jeans hanging from the edge and pulling out a package of cigarettes. “Open the window,” I instructed him. “I can’t have you polluting my room.”

Changbin chuckled, but obeyed nonetheless. He also drug the ashtray on the windowsill closer before lighting the cigarette and bringing it to his swollen lips for a long inhale. “I really missed you, Y/N,” Changbin said, taking another drag from his cigarette before placing it in the ash tray next to the open window.

“I missed you too,” I told him, closing my eyes for a moment as I relaxed against the pillows - savoring the warmth of Changbin from next to me.

“I had a nice time with you,” Changbin added. “Maybe we could...try dating again?”

I froze at the words I had been dreading to hear. You see, Changbin and I had been dating off-and-on for many years at this point, and we both knew that we didn’t work well as a couple. Yet, that never stopped him from encouraging us to try again, and as much as I loved the sex, I couldn’t tolerate the complicated feelings involved.

“I don’t think so, Changbin,” I said, wincing when I heard him sigh. “You know that never ends well for us.”

“Yeah,” Changbin agreed, although it hurt my heart to see him look so sad. “I can’t help it, Y/N.”

“We can still keep doing this,” I said, reaching over to place a tender kiss on his bicep.

“Maybe,” Changbin agreed, but something in his tone told me that this might be the last time I ever enjoyed Changbin’s company in bed.

“Could I at least show you around campus?” I asked him. “I’ll even treat you to lunch?”

Thankfully, Changbin managed a smile at my offer.

By the time Changbin had left campus, I was feeling strangely alone when I settled at a cafe in the student union to work on some homework. I couldn’t help but feel like I had disappointed Changbin, and I prayed to anyone who was listening that we might still be friends. Because we had been close well before the sexting and late-night phone conversations that always ended up with an orgasm or two.

Changbin was the epitome of the type of guy I usually lusted after: strong, handsome, and intimidating. But we always argued too much whenever we tried the whole couple thing, and that was enough to ruin any preconceived notions I held about a relationship with the object of my most intimate fantasies. “You always manage to ruin everything, Y/N,” I muttered to myself, and it was suddenly way too difficult to focus on homework.

But I was still distracted enough that I almost failed to recognize the man who had just walked into the cafe...until he was standing right next to my table. “I always enjoy seeing my students outside of our lectures,” Mr. Hwang said with a smirk. “Do you mind if I join you?”

It took me a while to respond to his simple inquiry because my mind instantly returned to the picture of his cock that still sat in my messages. “Sure,” I eventually mustered, willing my stomach to settle down while ignoring the harsh smell of his cologne.

“Is that my assignment you’re working on?” Mr. Hwang inquired as he took another sip of his coffee.

Is he just going to pretend like everything is okay? “Yeah,” I said, sliding my laptop screen closer. “For the author essay.”

“Do you mind if I take a look?” Mr. Hwang asked, and I shivered at the dark look in his gaze.

“I guess so,” I said, and I passed off my computer screen, observing the way he read over the words before sighing.

“You just don’t seem to understand, Y/N,” Mr. Hwang said, and I could feel myself almost snapping.

“What don’t I understand, Mr. Hwang?” I asked with barely constrained frustration.

“Oh, please call me Hyunjin,” he replied. “Mr. Hwang makes me sound so old.”

“Fine,” I huffed. “But the essay?”

“It lacks passion,” Mr. Hwang explained. “Your writing is decent, but it’s very by the books, you know? I’m looking for my students to play around with their words and have fun! We read enough academia as it stands.”

“Passion?” I repeated. “And how do you suggest that I learn passion?”

Mr. Hwang smiled, and I felt like I had just walked right into a trap. “You’re a very young and attractive woman, Y/N,” he said. “Have you ever been in a relationship before?”

“Several,” I said, keeping my responses short and vague on purpose. Because i couldn’t figure out where he was going with this strange conversation.

“Several?” Mr. Hwang repeated. “Well, that’s a shame then.”

“What do you mean?”

“The sex must be very boring,” Mr. Hwang said. “If you’re still writing this way.”

I didn’t even bother trying to stop my mouth from falling open. “I really don’t think it’s any of your business!”

“I have to make it my business when your grades are this atrocious,” Mr. Hwang insisted, and his eyes rolled over my form. “I find myself quite attracted to you, Y/N. Perhaps I can help solve this little dilemma of yours.”

Fuck it! I thought to myself as I leaned in closer - ready to risk it all because I wouldn’t tolerate his attitude for another moment! “To tell you the truth, Mr. Hwang,” I said, feeling triumphant when his eyes flashed in annoyance at my blatant dismissal of his earlier request. “You’re just not my type.”

“And what is your type?” Mr. Hwang snapped. “Certainly not that little jock you were walking around with on campus?”

“Changbin?” I said without really thinking, but then I found myself wondering how he even knew about that in the first place. “How did you know?”

“I saw the two of you,” Mr. Hwang said like it wasn’t a big deal. “I couldn’t help but notice, Y/N, and that poor boy was following you around like a lost puppy.”

“This is crossing a line,” I said, slamming my laptop closed. “I can see anyone I want.”

“You’re not interested in doing better?” Mr. Hwang asked. “Trust me, Y/N. I was there once, and most college boys like him are only interested in sticking their dicks into something warm. I think you need someone mature who isn’t only interested in their own satisfaction.”

“Changbin’s sweet to me,” I insisted, and Mr. Hwang scoffed.

“I bet he is, especially if you’re always willing to spread your legs for him.”

“Like you could do any better!”

“Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

I fell back into my seat as I slowly processed his words. “Sir, I-”

“You can’t possibly know if I’m your type, Y/N,” Mr. Hwang continued. “I think I deserve a fair chance to prove you wrong.”

I could scarcely believe how casual he was acting - like this wasn’t completely against thousands of school rules. It was entirely scandalous, and there were so many inherent risks if we were to ever get caught....but, yet, somewhere deep down inside of me, I felt the familiar heat of arousal.

“You’re thinking about it.” Mr. Hwang smiled. “Come over this Friday, Y/N, and I’ll show you what a real man looks like.”

I had never been this nervous before in my entire life, wiping my sweaty palms against my jeans as I walked up to Hyunjin’s apartment. There was a far more rational part of myself that was screaming at me to run in the opposite direction, but the incessant desire to knock on the door far outweighed the consequences. And my breath hitched in my throat when I saw him standing in the doorway dressed to the nines in tight skinny jeans and a white, button-up shirt while I looked like I had just woken up,

“There you are,” Hyunjin said with a sultry tone, and he reached for my hand to pull me inside. “Sit down for a moment,” he encouraged me, smirking at the look on my face as I took in his lavishly decorated apartment. Still, I managed to obey him as I sat down on the leather futon in the center of the room.

“Your apartment is nice,” I commented, and I held my breath when Hyunjin sat down next to me - stretching out his long legs while he studied me with an impenetrable gaze.

“I have a few rules tonight, Y/N,” he said, and I forced myself to nod. “Are you aware of the color-light system?”

“Color-light system?” I repeated.

“How adorable,” Hyunjin said with a mocking tone. “You’ve made it seem like you know your way around a cock, but you’re clearly more innocent than I assumed.”

My eyes widened at his filthy language. “Sir?”

“That’s a good start,” Hyunjin said. “You will refer to me as sir tonight, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, and Hyunjin smiled at my easy compliance.

“As for the color system,” Hyunjin said. “I want to make sure that you’re comfortable, Y/N. Green means that you can handle whatever we’re doing, yellow means that I need to slow down, and red implies that we’ll stop completely. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good,” Hyunjin purred. “Would you feel more at ease in the bedroom?”

I offered him a timid nod, and Hyunjin held out his hand which I accepted - hoping that he wouldn’t notice the evidence of my nerves. But I was half-way expecting something truly horrible, which meant that I was also genuinely surprised to discover a normal bedroom - sparsely furnished with a king-sized bed with a beautiful silk comforter. “Why don’t you take your clothes off for me, princess?” Hyunjin asked, and I shivered at the familiar pet name. “Lay down on the bed, and I’ll grab a few things before we start.”

I waited until Hyunjin turned his back to me before undressing and leaving my clothes in a neat pile on a nearby chair. Then, I hesitantly lowered my body onto the mattress while resisting the urge to cover myself. Especially when Hyunjin returned with a bundle of interesting items, placing them aside while he looked me over from head to toe. “Oh, princess,” he said. “What a beautiful body.”

I could feel myself flushing at his words and Hyunjin laughed. “Where’s that feisty attitude from before, princess? Or was it all for show?”

“Mr. Hwang-”

“Sir,” he quickly corrected me, and I stiffened when he presented a bright red blindfold. “We’ll put this on first,” Hyunjin said, and he ordered me to sit up long enough for him to secure the tie in the back - taking away my sight and leaving me anxious for his next move. “This will make everything feel so much better,” he said, and I jumped when his fingers started to trail down the smooth skin of my stomach. “Oh, you must be very sensitive,” Hyunjin remarked, and I didn't quite know what to do with my hands when he parted the delicate folds of my pussy. “Y/N, are you already wet?” he asked, and I tried to hold back a moan when he inserted one finger, moving it around before leaving me feeling empty once again.

“Let’s try this,” Hyunjin said, and I gasped when I heard the familiar sounds of a vibrator. “You’ve probably used this plenty of times,” Hyunjin continued. “When you had to finish yourself off after those little boys tried to please you.”

He started with my nipples - moving in small circles around the hardened peaks. It wasn’t anything overwhelming, and I enjoyed the pleasant sensation. However, the soothing action didn’t last for long, and I gripped the silken sheets between my fingers, spreading my legs wider on instinct when Hyunjin trailed the vibrations down to my sensitive pussy lips. “Oh, shit,” I said, nearly exploding when the vibrator made contact with my clitoris. Especially when he increased the power - turning the damn thing up to its highest setting as he held it there in the same spot.

I was gone before it had even started, convulsing around nothing as I came hard against the sheets. And I fully expected him to stop since he had gotten his way, but Hyunjin only surprised me when he continued to move the vibrator against my throbbing clit, refusing to relinquish the stimulating vibrations as everything started to burn with the threat of yet another orgasm slowly building.

“Fuck, you’re leaking everywhere,” Hyunjin said, but there was only awe in his tone, and I could practically feel the weight of his gaze. “Such a good girl,” Hyunjin added, and he started moving the vibrator in faster circles while he refused to take it away from my poor, aching sex.

I moaned around my second orgasm - coming hard again, but there was also an undeniable sensitivity that had me trying to escape the cursed vibrator, but Hyunjin only used a firm grip on my hips to hold me in place.

“Please stop!” I cried.

“Color,” Hyunjin growled, and he continued to press down even harder.

“Y-yellow,” I stuttered, and the vibrations slowed down to a more acceptable level as Hyunjin circled the head around my clit.

“I want one more from you, Y/N,” he said. “Then, I think you might be ready for my cock.”

I almost fell apart at his words, and I found myself unable to deny that everything was so good with him. There was also a strange and foreign part of me that desperately wanted to please him, and I started rolling my hips in time with his circles, chasing another high as I nearly screamed from the intensity. “Look at you,” Hyunjin sneered when he turned off the vibrator, and I could feel the bed dip beneath his weight. He snatched away my blindfold, and I blinked rapidly at the returning light before focusing on the obscene image of Hyunjin jerking himself off in front of me. “You have to be honest with me, princess,” he growled. “Is my cock better than his?”

“S-sir?” I questioned, having trouble focusing because of the thick haze surrounding my frazzled brain.

“That little prick you were with,” Hyunjin said. “Is his cock better than mine?”

I was smart enough to know the right answer, and I shook my head from side to side. “Your cock is better, sir,” I said, and Hyunjin brightened with a grin.

“It’s big, isn’t it?” Hyunjin asked, and he was shuffling over me with a sardonic grin. “Why don’t you touch it?”

I swallowed hard, but quickly acquiesced, wrapping my hand around his impressive girth before allowing myself to give him several strokes - making sure to give some attention to the head. “Oh,” Hyunjin moaned, looking down at me with sultry eyes. “That feels good, princess, but would you rather have my cock somewhere else?”

I whimpered at his words. “Yes, sir.”

“Tell me where,” Hyunjin demanded. “I want to know exactly what you want me to do, princess.”

“I want your cock in my pussy,” I said. “I need you to fuck me, sir.”

“Shit,” Hyunjin snarled, and he moved my legs apart to expose my cunt. “How can I possibly say no when you asked me so nicely?”

But I was a complete mess at this point - debauched and overcome with pleasure. Yet, when I felt the tip of Hyunjin’s cock penetrate my weeping sex, I could already feel myself growing excited all over again. He wasn’t gentle either - spearing me with one harsh plunge of his erection against the resisting walls of my pussy.

“Oh, fuck,” Hyunjin said. “Are you sure you’re not a virgin, princess?”

There were tears in my eyes when I reached out for his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he started moving himself around inside of me. Pulling back to leave just the tip of his cock at my entrance, before thrusting forward with unrelenting strength. In spite of his skinnier stature, Hyunjin wasn’t to be underestimated. He knew exactly how to use his hips, and he continued to breach my constricting cunt with everything that he had.

“You’re taking me so well, princess,” he said, forcing my legs even further apart, and finding a better angle to attack the delicate g-spot that rapidly sent me hurtling for my fourth orgasm of the night.

I was completely spent, barely holding on to consciousness while Hyunjin finally came with a hoarse cry of my name - dragging his cock in and out of my pussy as he milked himself for every last bit of cum. Then, he pulled himself out with a far more gentle touch, leaning down for the first time that night to connect our lips in a surprisingly warm kiss.

“Is that what you were expecting, Y/N?” he asked with a playful smile. “Am I still not your type?”

I shook my head because words were the last thing on my mind. But Hyunjin simply chuckled at my speechless state, and I watched him move around the room completely naked as he cleaned up the mess we had made. Meanwhile, I held up my hands to make sure that my vision had returned to normal.

Eventually, Hyunjin settled back down behind me, and I was somewhat surprised that he hadn’t kicked me out of his apartment. Even more so when he started to run his fingers down my waist. “I think you finally learned passion, Y/N,” he said, and I couldn’t help but agree with him.

“Can I start writing acceptable essays?” I asked him with a more confident tone.

“Of course,” he agreed. “But Y/N,” Hyunjin added, and I groaned when he cupped the heat between my legs. “You better call me Hyunjin from now on.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, grinning when I heard him growl in warning.

“You’re asking for it, aren’t you?”

I gave him a coy smile in return, watching as he rolled over top of me to spread my thighs again.

The next day in class, I smiled when I saw an A+ written at the top of my latest essay assignment. One that I had stayed up late to complete while sitting at Hyunjin’s desk with his cock buried inside my wet heat. Apparently, my first lesson was complete, but I couldn’t help but think that there was still a lot more left to learn.

“Everyone did well,” Hyunjin said as he paced at the front of the room. “I’ll see you all again soon.”

The dismissal was met with the beginnings of several conversations throughout the lecture room, and I simply organized my things before tossing my bag over my shoulder. Yet, on the way out the door, I couldn’t help but smile when I heard Hyunjin’s voice from behind me. “Y/N?” Hyunjin called out, and I could already feel the arousal gathering between my legs. “Why don’t you stay after class?”

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398 notes · View notes

the-fiction-witch · 3 years

Text

She’s Not Yours P3

REAL LIFE X THE LAST LEGION

COUPLE TBS X READER

RATING SMUT + DARK

WARNINGS FOR VARIOUS ABUSE AND SEXUAL ABUSE

I sat in a council meeting bored as usual but I had new things to focus on, every morning she has done that to me and I couldn't stop thinking about it, all except this morning we where running very late and we didn't have time. And I could feel it, it was throbbing, it was rock hard in my pants often having to cross my legs under the table to try and restrain it somehow. I'd do anything to get my cock back in her mouth again, I need her so badly, I couldn't keep my eyes off her as she walked around doing drinks and such. Watching that beautiful body move concealed by that little dress,

"That's enough, for one day," I said and they all nodded "come on" I told her heading out the room she followed as always struggling a little as I marched back to my room shutting the door quickly behind me

"Something the matter my king?' she asked turning to me I didn't answer I just grabbed her waist kissing her as intesely as I could, she kissed back confused but egar too I grabbed her ass folding her over that thin dress till she pulled back "I am sorry about this morning Thomas"

"It's fine. It's not your fault. But…. My darling please"

"What is it Thomas?"

"I need you, it hurts, please…"

"I see" she smiled holding my hand tugging us over to the sofa I was confused as to why but she kissed my hand and turned away before she bent over using the higher part of the sofa to rest her stomach

"May I?"

"You may my king"

"Ummmmm thank you my darling' I told her kissing her cheek I was excited we'd never done it before but I wanted to badly. I pushed off my pants and she tugged up her dress exposing herself me "uuhh darling, your beautiful" I told her she clearly blushed but didn't answer I didn't waste time slowly pushing in, it was a thousand times better then her mouth, I grabbed her hips as soon as I was inside, my hips working on there own fast and hard moans falling from my mouth like a waterfall, lost in my own little world like nothing existed but me and her. Knew I was being rough but I couldn't stop it, I couldn't control myself hearing her lusty groans and gasps was driving me wild. "Uuuhhh uuhhh my darling! Y/n! Please…. I'm so close!" I begged she gently began to move her hips meeting them with my own and I was on another fucking planet! Lost in my own world my hips moving so fast and hard I didn't even care about anything but how good she felt!

I heard a knock on my door but I couldn't bare to stop I honestly don't even think of I tried I could

"What!" I yelled

"Your advisor wishes to see you about something my king" I guard said

"Umm… um…. Tell him to come back later! I'm busy!" I yelled back trying hard not to moan but I felt her tighten around me and she screamed louder then ever before which made my hit my own moving my hips like crazy Inside her before collapsing in her "fuck I love you"

"I love you too Thomas" she giggled between her gasps "did I please my king" she asks getting up and wrapping her arms around my neck

"Umm you always do my darling," I smiled picking her up making her wrap her legs around me carrying her to my bed "again!"

"What?"

"You question your king?' I smirked "I said again my darling, I wanna hear you scream for me again!' I growled dropping her on my bed and crawling on top of her kissing all over her wrapping my arms around her as much as I could

But the door knocked again

"I said I'm busy! In fact…. I'm gonna be busy. All night long" I smirked "and if someone disturbs me again. I'll cut off whatever hand they knocked on the door with" I warn

I stood on the balcony watching the sun begin to set across the city having a little wine

"Thomas?" I heard y/n call, I had left her in my bed to sleep, we had visited the flower gardens across the city today and they made her walk all the way there and back so I was letting her sleep a while that Andi had I just had her on her back pushed into my matress the last hour and a half she wondered out only her chain around her neck she came over and wrapped herself up with me

"Hello you, get back inside. You'll get cold" I told her kissing her head

"It's to hot"

"Is it now?" I laughed giving her lips a kiss "go on, I don't want everyone to see you. You know the kinds trouble someone found you here"

"I am your maiden, I take care of you. I'm meant to be here" she giggled going back inside making sure I watched her

"Ummm your not usually naked thought"

"I can be if you'd like my king"

"I bet you can." I smirked "put your dress on"

"No"

"No? You deny your king?'

"Because I know my king wants me naked"

"How do you know what I want?" I smirked going inside shutting the door behind me

"I always know what my king wants" she smiled giving my lips a kiss and stroking my half hard cock thought my pants

"Smart girl. Bed. Now" I ordered

"Yes Thomas" she giggled

I laid in bed unable to sleep, u couldn't turn my head off tonight

"Ummm" I heard her gently moan on my chest I smiled giving her a little kiss, we had to be very careful but I managed to let her stay up here with me some nights even if we had to be quiet.

"Y/n?" I asked her

"Hummm?"

"Sorry, I know your tried but… I have to ask you something"

"Of course ask away my king" she smiled cuddling closer to me

"How long… have you worn this?" I asked tracing my fingers across her chain

"I was give it, when I was born"

"Born?"

"Umm my mother was a slave so, I was give one as soon as I was born, they had new links are you get bigger so it still sort of fits"

"Sort of?" I asked she sat up sitting on my stomach she moved her chain back slightly it pressing hard into the other side of her neck to get some gap on the other side and I saw where the chain rubbed her skin raw all day everyday a scar that would never fully heal from years without it being removed "doesn't it hurt?"

"It does. You learn to ignore it"

"Y/n. What is it like? For a slave?"

"You don't want to know that Thomas"

"Y/n. I'm there king. I need to know, and I need to know the truth and your the only person who can tell me that" I begged "so please, tell me everything"

"Yes my king" she nods "my mother was a maid in the palace, no older then us. One of the council men or so she said tried to use her but she forced him away, so they sent her to the amours to serve there…. They would burn her, and whip her, torcher her, and rape her. When I was born from… one of the men she didn't know who, I was sent to the laundry I would wash clothes and bedding mostly I… I never saw my mother again. They would hit your knees and ankles if you didn't do right the laundry" she explained "when I was to big for the laundry they sent me to the library to assist the book makers" she said "but… the men there, liked little girls."

"What do you mean?"

"They… liked little girls best."

"Y/n, my darling. Why didn't any of them day anything?"

"Of course we did. You think anyone listens to slaves? We where just slapped and ordered to be silent. When I got to old there they sent me to the kitchens, it was hot work and hard they'd boil your skin for speaking, burn your toes for messing up, whip you if you where slow, cut our your tongue if you where caught stealing food even just bits of moldy bread" she explained showing her various scars from all the places she has worked and the things that he been done to her

"Why would people steal moldy bread?"

"Because there starving,"

"Starving? I thought slaves where always homed and fed"

"Homed? You sleep on the floor of whatever you worked. Often chained to work stations having to sleep in puddles of your own and other piss and shit. Fed? Someone might be thrown some rotten meat or old bread once a week if you want to eat it, you have to fight for it like rats. I've seen children's hands cut off for stealing apples because there so hungry they are days from death, seen old men whipped to work faster on broken bones, women forced to work while in labour. And God forbid you speak back or try to escape then… death was a mercy"

"Why have you never told me this before?'

"I didn't think you cared" she shrugged

"Y/n of course I care. I…. I didn't know they treated you all that way. I…. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. If I'd known I would have-"

"It's alright Thomas. You barely even leave the palace. I can't blame you for not knowing" she smiled "what about you?"

"What?"

"I want to know what it's like. To be a king"

"Okay" I smiled "my mother was the only child of the last king, so they got her married off pretty quickly, my father was prince of the outlanders they hoped it would bring union but… it didn't really work. My uncle killed him"

"I'm sorry Thomas"

"It's fine. I never even met him. My mother was already pregnant then and… when I was born it just. It ripped her apart, she died a few days after. I never met either of them all I have is the statue of them in the hall. They kept me safe and made me king the council and the advisor did it all till I could walk and talk I think they mostly still do honestly, it's strange you have… very little freedom as a king. I keep getting told I can do anything I want and yet I'm not allowed to bathe myself or dress myself, but I don't know anything else. I was crowned king at three the first real choice I ever made was… you."

"Why didn't you kill me?"

"I couldn't. You where… scared of me. And that's not the sort of king I wanted to be and I… kinda liked you" I smiled "I wanted used you happy, not see you dead, there's alot of things I wish I could change"

"Like what?"

"I'd like it to stop. All of it. I don't want people to suffer for me. I don't want people to starve while I have more food then I'll ever eat, I don't want women to give up there bodies for food or just the safety they won't die tomorrow. And I… I wanna marry you, not just have you as some little slave girl who I have sex with. I want to marry you, make you my queen"

"That sounds very nice Thomas" she smiled nuzzling with my neck

"I will, someday. I promise" I smiled kissing her head.

I sat on my throne bored, nothing was going on so I just had to sit here.

"A drink my king" y/n smiled bringing me some wine

"Thank you darling" I smiled taking it from her "why am I doing this?"

"I don't know my king. The advisor says you must"

"He says I must do alot of things" I sighed "y/n, come sit with me"

"I can't my king it is the throne" she says

"Do you deny your king?"

"Never" she blushed

"The come and sit with me" I smiled she giggled and came sitting beside me but both of us barely fit "hang on." I said moving her hips to sit on my lap "there. That's better isn't it darling" I smiled kissing her cheek

"Much better my king, much cosier" she giggled

"Umm bet your much more used to sitting here"

"Very much so" she giggled

"Now… as were alone. How about we, have a little fun" I whispered and she giggled and nodded "that's my girl" I smirked making her stand a moment as I tugged my pants down she giggled and pulled her dress up, she moved back and gently slipped down my cock every inch pushing Inside her heavenly pussy "ummmm you feel so good. Why would I ever need any other woman in the world" I smirked gently moving her hips to move her back and forth sending ripples of pleasure across us both, I bit on her shoulder a little to stop my moans "ummm quiet darling, we'd be in alot of trouble I'd we got caught" I smirked

"The king fucking a slave girl on the throne of the kingdom" she giggled

"I'm sure knowone would blame me they saw your gorgeous pussy" I smirked starting to bounce her up and down "but there not going to. Only I get to see my beautiful darling" I smirked getting faster and faster trying hard not to moan, I moved a hand up her dress to fondle her breast as she bounced faster and faster I bit down hard giving her shoulder love bites to stop myself from screaming and from someone hearing us I felt her tighten she moved my hand to her mouth to muffle her screams as she came I smirked and kept bouncing her until I hit my own groaning into her ear as I finished as deep in her as I could making she she got every drop. And just as we walked down I heard footsteps, she quickly jumped off my lap and stood by the throne as usual fixing her dress I smirked blowing her a kiss and doing my pants back up and just as I did the door opened with my advisor and the council with some rather unimportant news, I was barely listening just smirking to myself glancing at her beside me seeing how tight her thighs and legs where as she desperately tried not to drip everything down her legs.

I sat in the meeting room undeniably nervous, I kept y/n close to me, I heard them marching down the corridor, I held my breath as the doors flew open showing five men, my uncle in the centre

“Hello Nephew”

“Hello Uncle,”

“You think I can be summoned to your audience like some damn dog!”

“Well you clearly can”

"What do you want"

"I want. This to stop. The attacks on my people the desecration on my lands the -"

"Enough. I understand" he says "you've grown up. Starting to really sound… like your father"

"It's been a while since I saw you last"

"Just because your older. Doesn't make you anymore of a king. I cannot simply call of my men, they have a habit of doing whatever the want" he smirked as the men he brought with him beg wrecking the room "that's something you don't understand is it, when people don't do whatever you ask of them"

"I am the king!'

"And they are not your people they are mine, I am there king. So why would they listen to you"

"Because I'll execute them if they don't"

"Will you now? You know the rules kiddo you hurt one of mine or I hurt one of yours" he smirked "she's beautiful" he smirked looking at y/n

"She is no concern of yours"

"Isn't she? I think she is" he smirked "hello beautiful" he smirked going over to where she stood "you get more beautiful every time I visit" he smirked his hand on her arse

"Do not touch her"

"Why? She's a slave, is what's she's for" he smirked "infact, for dragging us all this way. boys! For a present for you!" He smirked throwing her over to the other men who started grabbing at her

"Leave her alone!" I yelled "by all the gods in this world you will leave her be!"

"Oooh you really do like her don't you, naughty naughty liking a little slave girl, let's see what you like about her then" he laughs "boys, have you turn with her" he ordered

"No! You leave her alone!"

"Ignore him, carry on!"

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neitimatch · 4 years

Text

So Basically a fanfiction idea

So, this’ll be basically just rambling. Since I got an idea for BNHA fic after reading some and decided to write it somewhere, even though I might never actually write it, seeing as I’m already swamped with buncha stories along with work etc. This’ll have trans headcanons and femslash.

Oh well, here we go:

Magne and Midnight both survive but neither of them are in good shape. There might be some timeline differences since I want both Magne and Midnight at the same hospital at the same time.

On Magnes case, the villains realize that they need to get her to hospital or she would surely die. So they show her up at the hospital and she ends up in the heroes custody. She will be in a coma for few months and then wake up. Some time goes past and none of the villains come to visit her cause, duh, they would just get caught. Until one of the guards acts differently than normally and they turn out to be Toga. She tells Magne about all their plans that they are going to bust her out and she’ll come with them and they will be whole family again. But Magne isn’t nearly as enthused and just tells Toga that it would be safer to just leave her here. The heroes would surely have a way to track her by now and she doesn’t want to put rest of the League in danger. Then Toga is like:

“You are the heart of the League, Big Sis, you can’t just give up. I- we can’t just give up on you.”

And then Magne, in big sis fashion, puts a hand on Togas shoulder and just tells her that her number one priority is to keep them all safe now. Toga cries but accepts that this is what Magne wants.

Then Midnight ends up in the same hospital in really bad shape. Izuku wants to go see her but Inko is a bit iffy, fearing that since Midnight is in such a bad shape the villains would just come and stab her or something and Izuku would be hurt too. So she tags along(Don’t question it, it’s mom instinct and even if your child could level down buildings it’s still mom’s instincts to try to protect them.)

When they come to the hospital, Aizawa is there, just leaving to go see Magne. Though he doesn’t tell that to Izuku. The moment Midnight(referred as Nemuri from here on out) sees Inko, she is immediately smitten. She answers and talks with Izuku while low-key flirting with Inko. Inko though, in a fashion, is oblivious.

These two, Inko and Izuku visiting Midnight and Toga Magne every week, continue for a little over a month, until they happen at the same time.

Toga visits Magne, but when she’s leaving, she decides that it would be fun to see what kind of other patients there are in the building and maybe stab them a whole bunch. She goes through some who all seem boring, but then she comes to Midnights room and sees Izuku and Inko there with the hero. She is really happy at first, since Izuku is there, and she reasons that Inko will be as good as Izuku since she is his mom. Toga is about to make her move but she sees Inko hugging a crying Izuku and something in her just snaps and she stops. She keeps looking at the scene and feeling something. Usually it would be jealousy or hatred, because of her parents. But now she just feels longing.

Toga stands there and doesn’t even realize when her disguise disappears, she just keeps looking at them. Izuku then proceeds to see her and goes full on protective mode. But Toga doesn’t do anything, she just keeps staring. Inko realizes what Izuku is looking at and goes to confront the girl, not listening to Izukus pleas to stay, since this silent staring Toga seems much scarier than the normal insnae one.

Inko and Toga look at each other while Izuku is like: Get away from her, she is insane, the more she likes someone the more likely she is to stab them, I should know!

But then realizes that Toga is not looking Izukus way, she is just silently staring at Inko. She brings up her hand and just keeps it towards Inko.

And then she starts crying. And backs off.

Inko feels Toga’s pain and is like: If you want, we can talk more tomorrow evening if you come to my place.

Toga looks back and nods and Izuku is going nuts.

Toga meets Inko next evening as Izuku is at U.A. She is completely reserved at first. But when Inko asks what happened to her next to Nemuris room, she just starts sobbing but also telling her story. How her family hated her, how heroes turned a blind eye when she was thrown out. How all of the people who tried to help just tried to force Quirk suppressants on her. That everyone, until she joined the League, just saw her as something that needed to be fixed, none who accepted her fully. She tells Inko that not her Quirks power, but that she needs blood. She is basically a vampire so her mental state will deteriorate if she goes without for too long.

Inko at the end, while Toga is just having a break down and sobbing, is hugging the girl and is like: Imma adopt her!

Next morning, while Toga is still sleeping at Izukus bed after crying herself to sleep, Inko goes to Nemuri, who she has started low-key dating(they are putting it off until Nemuri gets released). She tells her about what Toga told her and Nemuri is like: They won’t let you adopt her since they see her as a danger and don’t think you are strong enough to have her at house arrest. She will also take this surprisingly well, seeing as she saw Toga when she was at the hospital thing. She then tells crying Inko that she’ll do her best. Nemuri is then released the next day.

Though before she leaves the hospital, Nemuri goes with Aizawa to talk to Magne. And she asks AIzawa to leave so she can talk with Magne girl-to-girl. Nemuri tells Magne about Toga situation, and at first Magne is really scared for her little sis, but then Nemuri asks what she would give to have Toga safe, and Magne is like: Literally anything as long as it doesn’t hurt her chosen family(aka the league).

Nemuri is not really that happy, but Magne tells her that while they would most likely not gain Leagues secrets, they would still get two high ranking away form there. Nemuri then decides to make a deal with Magne: Toga will be safe and so will she, but Magne needs become a trans-advisor to U.A. and take Quirk suppressants, she will also be allowed to transition medically(since she wasn’t allowed before due to being a villain). Toga would go to U.A. to study to be a hero and they would keep an eye on both of them there.They would not ask for Leagues secrets, but one misstep from either of them and they’ll both go to jail for the rest of their lives. Magne agrees.

Nemuri ends up adopting Toga(Now Kayama Himiko, referred to as Himiko from here on out.) Nemuri tells Inko what had happened who is extremely happy. Himiko takes the adoption and and deal really well, though she is sad that she can’t go to play with the other League members anymore. She is somewhat weary of her new mother, who is also weary of her, but after few weeks they get along fine, though Himiko refuses to call Nemuri mom and just sticks to first name.

Meanwhile Izuku is having a mental breakdown in school, as they have started to question their gender. It started with a party they had hosted where all girls had boys uniforms on and boys girls, and Izuku realized they really enjoyed having a skirt on. The first idea that they came to was that they were a cross dresser, but it just didn’t sit well, so they started to do some research. Then they had a talk with Aizawa, who contacted Tiger, thinking Izukuthat he would know way more about gender issues than a sleep-deprived professor. Izuku and Tiger talk, but seeing as Tiger is a trans man, while he can understand and give advice, he also advices Izuku to ask more from a trans woman. Izuku is more confident after the talk, and few days later Aizawa tells the class that they have a new gender-advisor and Izuku goes to immediately meet her, aka Magne, gets scared seeing the ex-villain, but after a bit calms down and they talk. Magne snarks a lot but as Izuku continues to be truthful and looking kinda scared of themselves, Magne starts to feel the old big sis powers kicking in, and she talks with Izuku seriously, at the end they both feel much better, Magne even telling Izuku to come back whenever they wish if they need. Few days later Izuku goes back to Magne and tells her that they are indeed, a trans woman(Referred from now on as Izu, and later on Izumi), Magne then advices Izu that she needs to do what is best for her, telling people she fully trusts first and going from there. Izu acknowledges this and thanks Magne, who is then like: Just call me Big Sis.

Izu tells Ochako, who is first little bit lost but the full on supportive, she also tells Tsu whojust smiles and is like: Kero.

Few months go by and Himiko has started to call Nemuri: Mama or Mama Nemuri. She is not really that much different, but with steady supply of blood now granted to her, she has lost her bloodlust. She also, since Nemuri and Inko are dating, calls Inko: Mommy. The school year is also coming to an end and Nemuri decides to propose to Inko, who says yes and they move in together.

When the year finally ends, Izu shows up at her home, with her support group ready as she is going to tell Inko about her being trans. Her support group consists of Todoroki, Ochako and Tsu. Though what she does not know is that Nemuri and Inko have moved in together, so when the door opens and out bursts Kayama Himiko, yelling: Big bro Izuku, not only does Izu get bad dysphoria, but also is just scared about Himiko being here. Himiko then proceeds to be like: Since we are siblings now my love for you is purely platonic!

And Izu is like: Thank god, I’m straight so it would have just ended in heartbrea... wait what siblings!?!?!

Himiko then proceeds to jump Ochako, who catches her in a bubble and they squabble a little. The group then goes inside and Nemuri and Inko tell whats up, Himiko is contantly clinging on Ochako, who has stopped trying to force the girl away since she would just come back anyway. Izu then asks to talk with Inko privately and tells her mom about her being trans. Inko is totally just like: I HAVE TWO DAUGTHERS NOW, AWESOME!!!

Like, WAY, too excited but it makes Izu feel better, Izu also tells her mother that she will go by Izumi from now on. After they talk and cry a bit Izumi goes back to her friends and Inko gets Himiko and Nemuri and tells them whats up. Nemuri has a small shock but gets over it really quickly and just can’t seem to stop smiling. Himiko on other hand completely flies of the fucking flip, not because Izumi was trans, she had Big Sis Mag after all, but because she remembered that she had misgendered her at the door. Himiko literally LAUNCHES herself at Izumi and just keeps telling her how sorry she is, with full on teateristics and all. Izumi just smiles and tells her that she didn’t know and its okay now. Todoroki leaves for his home during night after a romantic? farewell with Izumi.

Next day the girls go to shop new clothes for Izumi, they have bunch of money as Nemuri had been like: Take my money and use as much as you like, my new daughter needs clothes, dammit!

And they bring home a total haul. Some lazing around clothes(Tsu) Casual clothes(Ochako) and erotic clothes(Himiko, who constantly kept telling Izumi how much Todoroki was going to like them later on.)

When the school starts again, Izumi goes in with girls uniform and informs all of her changes, while most people are fine there are some, mainly Bakugou, who is not very kind at the beginning(He will warm up and stop being a transphobe later on and become the cool Aniki type) and the the class pervert(who keeps asking about literally everything trans related and asking for Izumi to perv for him. Don’t worry, he’ll get kicked out from U.A. or just dies somewhere and nobody cares)

After few weeks of school, Magne calls Izumi to talk with her(She has been on hormones for months now and lost muscle mass. She looks like a ripped lady now with all working parts(Yes I know this is not how it works at the moment at our world, sadly, but this is a fantasy world and it can have super effective hormone treatment, dammit), she tells Izumi that she can start her medical transition. So Izumi starts.

During the fall break, Nemuri and Inko have their wedding and Himiko and Izumi are going to be the flower girls. Bunch of the students attend. Later during the reception, Bakugou meets Izumi and asks her for a dance. Izumi agrees but only after her boyfriend, Shoto Todoroki, had promised to keep an eye on them the whole time. Bakugou apologizes to Izumi and while they don’t immediately go back to being friends(years of abuse plus transphobia, not gonna be easy) they start being more civil towards each other with hope that maybe later on they can be friends again.

Meanwhile Ochako has finally decided to act on her feelings and show Himiko who is the top of their relationship. Himiko is is more than happy with this development as they keep kissing outside the reception. Nemuri and Inko, who had asked before Izumis thoughts on the matter, finally tell their daughters that Izumi is now legally Nemuris adopted daughter, and that her and Inkos last names have been changed to Kayama.

Epilogue:

Inko and Nemuri are happily together, loving their children and grandchild.

Himiko and Ochako have a daughter and are engaged. Ochako is overly protective mom and Himiko is the 'cool' mama.

Shoto and Izumi are married and Izumi is pregnant.(Fantasy Woooooorrrrld~~)

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slytherinbarnes · 4 years

Text

Sub Rosa [55]

x. die all, die merrily

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: I mean, the title says it all, people die, there is fighting and violence. also some light smut, a lil touch of kidnapping, and some language to finish it all up.

Summary: the final conclave begins, and 13 clans fight for the ultimate prize: surviving the apocalypse.

a/n: I AM NERVOUS TO POST THIS BC APPARENTLY THIS IS A LOT OF YALLS FAVORITE EPISODE EVER SO I HOPE I DID IT JUSTICE! the taglist for this series is open! I hope you enjoy, please let me know what you think!!!

previous chapter // season masterlist // series masterlist

March 27th, 2150; Polis

You wake to the sounds of yelling outside.

Your eyes pull open slowly, blinking against the bright light of the sun that streams into the room from the balcony. You roll over, coming face to face with Bellamy, who is looking down at you and smiling. You give him a sleepy smile in return. “How long have you been up?”

He glances towards the balcony, before his eyes fall on you again. “An hour or so. Sounds like they’re prepping for the conclave.”

You hum in agreement. “Didn't Clarke say it starts tomorrow? I’m sure there’s a lot to be done and not much time to do it in.”

“Does that mean we have to help too?”

You laugh at the grimace on his face, clearly not excited about this prospect. “Probably.”

He sighs and starts to stand from the bed, but you grab his hand and pull him back down towards you. He looks at you in surprise as you give him a mischievous look, pulling him down even closer, until his face is inches from yours. “We can have some fun first though, don’t you think?”

He catches onto your line of thinking easily, and he gives you a look full of fire and passion. He answers your question with a searing kiss, your previous separation making you savor the kiss more than you usually do. His hands come to land on either side of your face, holding you in place as he kisses you like his life depends on it. Like he’s a drowning man and you’re a tank of oxygen sent to save him. His hands slide from your face, down to your body, sliding all over you, the feeling of his skin on yours electric.

He pulls you closer to his body, tugging until you move to straddle him, the fur blanket sliding off of you as you do. You run your hands down his already naked chest, his shirt on you, your favorite thing to sleep in, and he smiles up at you. You tug the shirt off and toss it to the side, and his eyes roam your body with appreciation, taking you in. You have to resist the urge to cover up, knowing how much he likes to look at you, but still, you whisper, “You’re staring.”

“I’m admiring. I’m drawing a detailed image of you in my brain for later, and I want to make sure I don’t miss anything.”

His fingers trace over a few of your scars, the one on your shoulder from the arrow, the one on your leg from Roan, and the one on your side from the assassin, and you can see his eyes mapping their location on your body. You copy the motion with him, carefully tracing the scar on his side, the one you stitched up. He glances down at it, the small, jagged little scar, shaped like an uneven lightning bolt. “It is crooked. Sorry about that.”

“Don't be, I like it. It reminds me of you.”

“It looks like lightning. The perfect scar for my stormy boyfriend.”

He gives you a peculiar look. “You think I'm stormy?”

You lean down and kiss him, chasing away the insecurity that seems to creep up. “Not in a bad way. Storms are powerful, forces to be reckoned with. Sometimes they rage and crackle, but they cleanse too, and help the Earth grow.”

He smiles up at you, his face softening and his earlier insecurity now gone. “And you are radiant. Breathtaking. Beautiful.”

He kisses you in between each compliment, lingering on the last one, making it long and slow. You open your mouth, granting his tongue access, and they dance and move together in a perfect symphony. As he kisses you, you both slide out of any remaining undergarments, both of you naked and warm against each other. The usual vulnerability, and fear, that comes with being naked around another person is lost on you, because Bellamy is careful to radiate nothing but love and adoration, wanting you to feel safe and secure.

He breaks the kiss to watch you as you sink onto him, both of you moaning with pleasure. He rolls you both, situating your body beneath his, his arms supporting his weight next to your head, caging you between them. Your eyes lock as you move together, finding your rhythm, and his other hand slips between your bodies to bring you closer to the edge. You fall first, eyes squeezed shut and head thrown back in pleasure, and the sight of you sends Bellamy over right after.

He kisses you again as you come down from your high, the kiss lazy and sloppy, both of you feeling like jelly as your pleasure rolls through you. Bellamy eventually rolls off you, laying down at your side, turning to watch you. You turn to face him, smiling up at his freckled face and messy curls, “Tell me about the gods.”

He smiles, always ready to oblige, before launching into his story. “Persephone, better known as the goddess of the dead and Underworld, wasn’t always known that way…”

March 28th, 2150; Polis

Bellamy’s hand is held tight in your own, slick with sweat from nerves as he leads you down the hall, towards Octavia’s room. The tradition of the Final Conclave has now begun, and in mere minutes, Octavia will walk onto the stage in front of everyone, and accept the sigil of her clan, your clan, and fight until the death for Skaikru.

When Bellamy reaches the door, he turns and looks at you, nervous, and you nod your head, reassuring him. He lifts his hand and knocks, and Octavia looks his way, quickly looking away again when she realizes who it is. “You here to give me a pep talk?”

He drops your hand and steps into the room, settling onto the couch beside her. You linger in the doorway, here for emotional support more than anything, watching Bellamy make his last attempt to save his sister. “You don't have to do this. We can find someone else to fight. “

“If I die, I die. At least I go down fighting.”

“O-”

She cuts him off immediately, shutting down his argument. “Don't. This is my decision, Bell. I know what the odds are, I don't need you pointing them out.”

You hear footsteps from down the hall, and you peek behind you, watching as your twin approaches you. Her face is set in a grim expression, not optimistic at all, and as soon as she looks up and meets your eyes, she calls out, “It's time.”

You nod, turning to pass the message along to Octavia, but she must have heard because she is already standing and walking your way. You get a good look at her make up as she approaches, the dark war paint painted over each of her eyes in the shape of an upside down “L”. You realize immediately what her inspiration is, and as she stops in front of you, you whisper, “Lincoln’s tattoo.”

She nods once, confirming your suspicion, and you see a quick pass of nerves cross her features. You reach out and squeeze her shoulder, offering her comfort. “He’s always with you, especially now, and I know he's proud of you.”

She gives you a small smile before walking past you and out the door, walking down the long hallway to the stage. You and Bellamy follow her path until you meet up with Clarke, who leads you out a side door and into the crowd, just in time to watch Gaia, Indra’s daughter, announce, “Octavia kom Skaikru, step forward.”

Octavia steps up onto the stage and ducks her head, allowing Gaia to attach a necklace around her neck. “Accept the sigil of your clan and fight with honor as their champion.”

She walks across the stage and comes to a stop beside Roan, and you and Bellamy exchange a look as Gaia begins her final speech. “Soon will begin the Final Conclave, a battle to the death within the walls of Polis. These warriors will fight until only one remains. When that warrior collects all of the sigils from the fallen and delivers them to me, they will be declared the victor. This final champion alone will tell us which clan is meant to survive in the crypt of Bekka Pramheda, and which clans are meant to perish in Praimfaya. Osir koma op daun bilaik slip daun kom bleirona, ba mafta op Won bilaik hef em op mou beda.”

Kane translates for you and Bellamy, able to understand the words faster than both of you can. “We honor those who fall by the sword, but follow the One who wields it best.”

Somewhere behind you in the crowd, someone yells, “Daun bilaik ai!”

That would be me. You all turn and watch in shock as Luna stalks through the crowd, shoving people out of her way to get to the front, and you can sense trouble brewing as soon as you see her face. “Shit.”

Bellamy looks at you, not understanding what you mean, not aware of just how bad things got for Luna on Becca’s Island. She stalks onto the stage and comes to a stop in front of Gaia. “I'm Luna kom Floukru, and I'm the last of my clan.”

“We know who you are...The Natblida who ran from her conclave.”

“I'm not running from this one.”

Gaia turns and grabs the last necklace from the bowl, turning to face the angry Nightblood. “Accept this sigil, Luna kom Floukru. But with your clan gone, who will you fight for?”

“I fight for no one. I fight for death.” She snatches the necklace from Gaia’s hands and turns and holds it up for the crowd. “When I win, no one will be saved.”

Her words immediately send a wave of murmurs through the crowd, and Gaia quickly solves the problem by dispersing the crowd and sending the warriors down into the weapons room to arm up and prepare for the battle. You, Kane, Bellamy, Clarke, and Jaha all cluster in a circle, quietly discussing Luna's arrival when Gaia comes over to your group, voice full of authority. “Skaikru! Three advisors to the worgeda. The rest of you, report to your designated safe zone. Now.”

Kane gestures to you and Bellamy, “Come on. We have to get her ready.”

Jaha reaches out and grabs Kane’s arm, stopping him from leaving. “This conversation isn't over. The death wave will be here within three days, and here we are, risking the fate of our people on a blood sport?”

Clarke corrects him, “The fate of all people, You heard Luna.”

“She's just one of 13.”

You wince, remembering when you walked in a room to save Luna from at least 6 men, only to find that she had already saved herself. And that was after being repeatedly tortured. “You're wrong. She's a Nightblood novitiate, which means she trained in combat exactly like this.”

Bellamy looks at you, misunderstanding you. “You want us to cheat?”

“No.” You look at him, shaking your head. “I only mean that Luna is the walking definition of killer warrior, and that scares me.”

Kane adds, “Besides, you know the rules. If we break them, we lose, and if we lose, we die.”

“The rules are not the problem, Marcus. The game is. Even if we stop Luna, even if Octavia finds a way to win, does anyone truly believe that the Grounders will accept Skaikru as the lone survivors?”

“Yes. The conclave is sacred, they'll honor the winner. Like it or not, we're all Grounders now.” The words tug at a memory, Bellamy standing in the middle of a circle of delinquents, convincing all of you to fight the Grounders coming your way. But Kane pulls you from that memory when he looks at Jaha, and says, “You get our people to the safe zone, we'll have Octavia ready for the fight. The rest is up to her.”

You and Clarke nod at each other, knowing you’ll see each other again soon, after the Conclave. Either as the sole clan to survive Praimfaya, or as one of 13 clans left outside to perish. Bellamy walks close to you as you follow Kane into the weapons area, leading you over to Octavia. As you walk towards her, you eye the competition, taking notes on their weapons, their fighting, anything you can gather that might help her. Kane seems to have the same idea because as soon as he stops in front of her and you and Bellamy stop beside him, he starts, “All right, listen to me. The Blue Cliff Warrior, she has two corvo blades. I just saw her practicing. She's left handed, you go for her weak hand.”

“Okay.”

You add to his point, “Plains Rider and the warrior from Shallow Valley, they're strong, but slow. You can avoid them, not to mention the black rain, which could fall at any moment, so stay close to cover.”

Beside you, Bellamy fidgets in place, turning and looking away, which does not go unnoticed by you or Octavia. She snaps, “What, Bellamy? If you've got something to say, just say it.”

“You don't need any of this. When the starting horn blows, just stay out of sight and let the others thin out the competition.”

“You want me to hide?”

“You don't need to go up against the strongest warrior from every clan.”

“I came here to fight.”

Bellamy bends down a little, matching their heights, his voice almost pleading, “You were the girl under the floor. Use that, just like Mom taught us.”

Kane nods, “Bellamy's right. You don't have to kill all 12 warriors.”

“I just have to kill the last one.”

All of you exchange a nod, now on the same page in terms of strategy. Behind you, one of the Flamekeeper scouts announces, “Ambassadors and advisors, to the tower. Champions, to your flags.”

Kane and Octavia hug, quick and fierce, before she turns to Bellamy. They hover near each other, unsure whether they should hug, and eventually Octavia settles on, “May we meet again.”

“Damn right we will.”

Bellamy’s voice is sad, and he looks like he wants to hug her, but he’s so worried about upsetting her before the battle that he doesn’t. He just turns and starts to walk away, leaving you and Octavia alone. You don't hesitate to hug her, reaching out and grabbing her, squeezing her tight and passing along as much love and strength as you can through the hug. She hugs you back tight, almost desperate, and when you pull away, both of you have tears in your eyes, aware this might be your last goodbye. You smile through your tears, “You were my first friend on the ground, and the first person to see me as someone other than the Invisible Twin. Now you’re my people, my family, my sister. I am so incredibly proud of you.”

She smiles at you and you see her fighting back her tears, not wanting anyone to see her crying. She squeezes your arm and whispers, “I love you. Bellamy too.”

You nod, already aware, because you knew the siblings couldn't stay upset with each other long. Lincoln's death left a mark on their relationship, but that doesn't mean their relationship was irreparable. You start to answer when one of the Flamekeepers grabs your arms and pulls you away, pushing you towards the door to the tower. You turn and wave one last goodbye to Octavia, eyes watching the small girl melt into the crowd of warriors who have been fighting longer than she’s been alive. You meet Bellamy at the elevator, and his face is fallen, completely upset. You slip your hand in his and he looks over at you in surprise, so lost in his own head that he didn't even hear your approach. “What did she say?”

“She said she loves you.”

Surprise takes over his expression, then regret, and he immediately drops your hands and turns away, “I have to tell her I love her.”

But the Flamekeeper who pushed you out of the room blocks his path, pushing him back towards the elevator, not allowing him to leave. You can tell Bellamy wants to fight it and fight him, but you reach out and grab his hand again, pulling him towards the now waiting elevator. “She’s going to win, Bellamy. You can tell her afterwards.”

He nods and you ride the elevator to the top, meeting up with Kane in the throne room, just as the horn sounds, signaling the beginning of the conclave. You can hear the sounds of fighting immediately, and the tensions inside the room are high as you hear the clang of swords and the thud of fallen bodies. Minutes later, Gaia comes into the room and announces, “The first two champions have fallen.”

Everyone turns towards her, absolutely terrified that she will say the name of the warrior from their clan, and you, Kane, and Bellamy are no exception.

“Gael kom Ingranronakru, yu gonplei ste odon.”

One of the Flamekeepers walks over to the candle that represents the Plains Riders and puts the flame out, ending their battle for the bunker. You all watch the Flamekeeper turn away from the snuffed candle and walk towards the next one, and your heart drops as every step he takes brings him closer and closer to the Skaikru candle. Bellamy whispers, “Please don't be her.”

Luckily, but still heartbreaking, the Flamekeeper stops just shy, in front of the Trikru candle, as Gaia announces, “Fio kom Trikru, yu gonplei ste odon.”

Relieved, you turn to Bellamy. “Octavia's still out there.”

Bellamy’s eyes turn towards you, full of tears, his expression breaking your heart. “I couldn't tell her I loved her, even with the world ending.”

You squeeze his hand, still held tight in yours. “Trust me, Bellamy, she knows.”

He nods and his eyes drop to the floor, lost in his head again, and you and Kane share a look. With nothing else to do now, except wait, you and Bellamy head out to the balcony with your binoculars, watching the fights alongside Gaia. Kane comes out onto the balcony as you watch the Blue Cliff warrior kill the Sangedakru warrior, and Bellamy lets out a small gasp at the sight of the death. When you turn to look at him in confusion, he nods towards Kane, and you follow him as he leads you over to the Chancellor. Bellamy’s voice is low when he mutters, “We just saw the Blue Cliff warrior kill the Sangedakru warrior with a bow.”

“So?”

Bellamy looks at you, and you remember your pre fight conversation with Octavia. You tell Kane, “So, we saw her before the fight. She didn't have a bow, she had two swords.”

“Yeah, the corvo blades.” He shrugs, not understanding your worry. “Well, she could have picked up a bow off the battlefield.”

You and Bellamy exchange a look, both of you aware that someone you know is exceptionally good with a bow, and exceptionally good at betrayal. You both step back inside the room, scanning for the Azgeda spy, shaking your head when you don't see her. Kane comes up beside you, looking between you in confusion. “What is it?”

“Echo's gone.”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, Bellamy stalks out of the room, looking like a man on a mission, and you and Kane look at each other in panic before running after him. “Bellamy, wait!”

He spins around to face the two of you, annoyed at the interruption. “My sister is down there. Echo is cheating, and I'm gonna stop her.”

Kane shakes his head, “Let one of Gaia's scouts find her, and then Ice Nation will be punished.”

“They'll never catch her. Echo's a spy, this is what she does.”

He tries to walk away again but you grab his arm to stop him. “Listen to me, Bellamy, I’m with you. But running out there in broad daylight is not the way to fix this.”

“So, you think I should just stay here and do nothing?”

You shake your head, and Kane vocalizes a plan you were already starting to form in your head. “No. You wait until dark so you don't get caught. And then the two of you get her out of the fight and get back here without being seen. Clear?”

“Clear.”

The wait until nightfall is agonizingly long, and all you can do is hope that Octavia makes it until then, safely away from Echo’s arrows. When darkness finally blankets the city, only five lit candles remain. Floukru, Azgeda, Podakru, Louwoda Kliron, and Skaikru.

Bellamy leads you through the streets of Polis, heading towards the building Echo is hiding in, careful to keep the both of you hidden from the view of any warriors or Flamekeepers. You’re close to the building when Bellamy abruptly stops and pulls you back behind a wall, disguised in the shadows. You know it’s too dangerous to ask why, but you don't need to, because a second later the Shallow Valley warrior comes into view. He seems to see something in the distance that you can’t see, because you watch him brace himself before a scream breaks free from the unseen force, and Luna comes running into view. She kills him quickly, easily, and just like that, five lit candles becomes four.

Luna stalks out of view again, and as soon as Bellamy is sure it’s clear, he takes off running again, leading you the last few steps to the building. The two of you creep up the stairs slowly, remembering that Echo is up high, and when you reach the door to her hiding spot, Bellamy gives you two hand signals: push the door open and then immediately get down. You nod your head, letting him you know you understand, and then he counts you down from three. As soon as he puts his last finger down, you swing the door open as quickly and quietly as you can, before you immediately duck, Echo’s arrow landing in the door right above your head.

Bellamy runs forward and tackles her to the ground, and the two of them fight back and forth until he gets the upper hand, wrapping his hands around her neck and choking her. She is seconds away from death when you feel a knife to your throat and you freeze in place, voice frantic when you call out, “Bellamy.”

He turns and his face drops when he sees you, his hands instantly releasing Echo’s throat, allowing her to breathe. He steps away from her and the person at your back shoves you towards Bellamy, who catches you with ease, and when you turn around you really aren't surprised to see Roan standing there, sword pointed at you and Bellamy as he glares at you. “I should've known you three couldn't stay away. I heard you all the way down the street, you're lucky I wasn't a scout.”

Bellamy nods towards the Ice Nation spy. “We came to stop her.”

“Explain yourself.”

“I was only trying to help save our people.”

Roan sneers at her, “I am not my mother. I'm not willing to cast aside honor for power.”

“No one has to know.”

“You misunderstand. I will not allow your dishonor to give Luna an advantage, and you will not shame our clan ever again. You are Azgeda no more.”

Shock takes over Echo’s face, and you have to resist the urge to smirk at her. “Sire, wait.”

“You're banished, Echo, and when I win this conclave, make no mistake, there will be no place for you inside that bunker. Now get out of my sight, and off this battlefield without being seen, or know that you are the cause of the death of our people.”

She swallows hard, fighting back tears, before turning and leaving the room, sneaking out and off the battlefield, despite having nowhere else to go. Once you and Bellamy are alone with Roan, the sword comes back towards the two of you again, everything about the king threatening. “I take it by your presence here that your sister's still alive.”

“That's right.”

“If I call for a scout, she'll be executed right now.” He lowers the sword, leaving enough room for you to eventually pass. “But what fun would that be? You really think she can win, don't you?”

Bellamy smiles, looking proud. “I wouldn't count her out if I were you. She's survived harder things than this.”

“Before she dies, I'll tell her she's lucky to have you as a brother.”

“I got a better idea. After she guts you and before you die, you tell her I was the lucky one.”

Roan smirks at him and you feel Bellamy's hand slip into your own, letting you know it’s time to go. You step away first, pulling Bellamy behind you, both of you keeping your eyes on the Ice Nation King until you’re out of the room and back on the street. You begin the careful retreat back to the tower, taking a different path than before, just in case. It takes longer this way, but this path is darker, and easier to stay hidden in, and after a few minutes, you’re just outside the tower again. You and Bellamy look at each other and smile a little, relieved to have made it back without getting caught, but that relief is short lived.

Just as the two of you start towards the door of the tower, two people jump out of the shadows, each one of them grabbing each of you, holding a rag over your mouth. The substance smells awful, and you know without a doubt that you shouldn't be smelling it, but you don't have much time to process that. You and Bellamy look at each other, both of your eyes wide in panic when you see the other in danger, and you fight against your captives. But by then, it's too late. The chemical has kicked in and you feel unconsciousness seize you rapidly, pulling you under at an alarmingly fast rate.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the heaviness in your head.

It feels like someone popped open your skull, stuffed it full of rocks, and closed it up again. You try to pry your eyes open, but they feel heavy, weighed down by anchors. You groan and try again, prying them open with all your strength, closing them back again when they are met with a bright light. But then you hear someone next to you groan, and a hand brushes against yours, familiar and warm.

Bellamy.

This time when you get your eyes open, you turn his way, both of you looking at each other in shock before you confirm that each other is real. You reach towards each other, silently checking the other out, making sure you're okay. And as soon as you realize you are, you both turn and look around the room, realizing you must be in the bunker. Your eyes land on Clarke, standing at the desk in the room near Jaha, both of them looking towards you. You look between them, at the clench of Clarke’s jaw, the extra weight on her shoulders, and your stomach sinks. “What the hell did you do?”

Jaha is the one to answer, sounding unashamed of what he has to say. “If only one clan could survive, it might as well be ours.”

Bellamy turns to your twin, not believing what he’s hearing. “Clarke, you agreed to this?”

“It was her idea.”

You and Bellamy share an incredulous look, before you turn it on Clarke, in disbelief of what she’s done. She sets her jaw, trying to convince herself, and the two of you, of what she’s done. “We did what we had to do.”

next chapter

#the 100 #bellamy blake #bellamy blake x reader #the 100 rewrite #the 100 4x10

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Gaps in His Files (Part 8) [Relabeled; Refiled Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton

Characters:

Main: Logan, Patton

Appear: Remy, Virgil (but only in the epilogue)

Summary:

Logan Berry has learned many things the last 10 years: a lot of math and physics, a bit of humility, and how to be a hero being just a few. Through his education, his experience teaching, and his exploits as the superhero Bluebird, he’s changed in a lot of small and large ways. He has recorded these changes in well-organized documents and files. He’s even had to create two new file designations: a red one for files about his moonlighting at Bluebird, and a light blue one dedicated to his boyfriend, Patton.

When Bluebird is targeted by a memory device and all of those 10 years of progress suddenly disappear, Patton Sanders and Logan’s extensive files are left as his only resource to get those memories back. But what is Patton supposed to do when there are clear gaps in his files? And what does he do when he is one of them?

This is set 25 years before Sometimes Labels Fail though it’s story is completely independent of it and it is not necessary to read that one first.

Notes: Superhero AU, memory loss, past child abuse, past child neglect, unhealthy ideas about ones place in relationships, emotional suppression, self-deprecating thoughts, medical procedures mentioned, very brief unhealthy views of sex

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Erm. Logan says a few not so nice things about people who struggle academically which are very wrong. I think from context it is clear that the author doesn’t agree with it. As a teacher I do not endorse his statement and in the missing 10 years he’s learned the lesson for himself... he’s just a very dumb smart high school kid. That being said, I thought I might warn you all especially with the fact that people might be in the middle of finals and a little emotionally vulnerable to that one.

Patton spent most of the morning getting Logan familiar with his red files while also asking him subtle questions about his real opinions on things. The mention of the crying thing did sting a bit even though Patton already knew it made Logan uncomfortable. Patton knew that from the beginning, but he’d still let Logan force himself to try to help when Patton was upset.

God, Patton was a bad person.

After he’d helped Logan get a good feel of the newer files, they started brainstorming about how best to work on recovering his memories over lunch.

Patton had thought they were on the same page, that being they were going to read through the pages in his files hoping he’d remember something in them. However, now he was doing that finger tapping thing on the table while he chewed slowly on his sandwich.

“What?” Patton finally asked.

Logan had clearly been waiting to share because there was no pause before his response. “Have you heard of Blight?” Logan asked, casually, as though that were not a name that made most of the population shudder when they heard it.

“This is nothing like that,” Patton said firmly before he continued with that line of thought.

“Why couldn’t it be?” he asked with a curious head tilt.

“Because… because it’s not,” Patton said.

“Do you have any evidence that it isn’t? Just because it was a device instead of a superpower does not mean it is not the same methodology.”

“It’s just not,” Patton said, “It can’t be.”

“Why?” Logan asked again.

“Because none of them recovered,” Patton tried not to snap.

Logan hummed. “Ah. That seems like an emotionally charged conclusion.”

“Can we please just not talk about it?” Patton implored, turning back to his lunch even though he wasn’t hungry anymore. There were a few moments of silence.

“Did you know,” Logan started, and Patton sighed, “that Blight was on record as having telekinesis before she revealed herself as a Mind Warper? People say she must have implanted false memories in her victims, but if she really was then it would be evidence of-”

“The Monofacultas Theory,” Patton finished for him.

Logan gave him a startled look. “You know it?”

“I’ve known you for over three years Logan and while I agree that the theory is interesting and feasible, there are no known cases of someone having a set of powers that span more than one of the Tri-divisions.”

“If Blight had telekinesis there is. She would have had a physical power as well as a mental one. Witnesses said…”

“She tore the minds of an entire city apart at the seams and restructured them to her desire. Excuse me if I don’t trust the validity of those mind’s statements especially when they have been disproved by video evidence.”

“Just because she didn’t use telekinesis for that one situation caught on video doesn’t mean she couldn’t.”

“Fine,” Patton said. “Say you’re right. Why does it matter?”

“Well I have telekinesis.”

“So, you want to… move your memories back into place?”

“Basically, yes.”

“With your telekinesis?”

“Well, brains are ultimately physical objects.”

“And you are going to not simply give yourself a stroke because…?” Logan shrugged. “Absolutely not Logan.”

“It would be interesting,” Logan said, eyes alight. “I could prove that powers are not truly divided into physical, metal, or energy powers but are originally one singular power that develops due to circumstance during early childhood.”

“If your brain doesn’t literally explode because you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“All science has risk.”

“No, Logan.”

He gave him the look that Patton was not allowed to call a pout.

“Can we at least try some less extreme methods of memory recovery before the theoretical methods with no hard evidence? Like continuing to read your files to try to jog your memory naturally as we had discussed.”

“Fine,” he agreed, looking downtrodden. Patton really hoped he got his memory back before he got too restless and tried something like that.

“If you’re finished eating, we should get back to reading,” Patton said. Patton was certainly finished with his lunch.

The afternoon went well without any major disasters or talk about dangerous methods to get memories back. Logan had not remembered anything, but he’d been calm and patiently started sorting through his files in chronological order. Then, when Patton left him alone for a moment to go to the bathroom, he somehow managed to find his daily planner from where Patton had hidden under a blanket in the front hall closet.

“It’s fine,” Patton insisted from the couch, watching him pace back and forth and wringing his hands. “I called your advisor and told him you wouldn’t be able to meet with him because you were sick.”

Logan frowned at him. “You shouldn’t’ have done that. I could have gone. I don’t want to appear irresponsible by skipping meetings.”

“He wanted to talk about your research. You would have had no idea what he was talking about,” Patton reasoned.

“I would have managed.”

“Logan,” Patton said patiently. “Your research area is partial differential equations. Do you even know what those are?”

Patton could tell by the look on his face that he had no idea. Yet he still stuck his nose up in the air. “I know what a differential is, and I know what an equation is. I am sure I can figure out how to do parts of them.”

“You haven’t even taken multivariate calculus.”

“It can’t be that hard.”

“It is,” Patton groaned, “It is hard.”

“Perhaps for you,” he said hotly.

“No,” Patton ground out. “For you. The 28-year-old you spends hours a week trying to understand these things and he has a bachelor’s degree and almost 6 years of graduate education under his belt. You are in high school.” Logan just gave him a withering glare and turned his attention back to the planner.

“I’m supposed to teach two courses tomorrow,” he said.

“Oh, absolutely not,” Patton said.

“I have a responsibility rather or not I have my memories.”

“Logan, listen to me. You have not graduated high school. You cannot teach a calculus class.”

Logan bristled. “I took calculus last year and got an A.”

Patton had to take a steadying breath. “That is not the same as teaching it.”

“It can’t be that hard. I will simply explain the information to them.”

“And when one of them asks you how to add two fractions?”

Logan’s eyebrows crinkled. “That is a basic skill. I am sure anyone in a college calculus course can do that easily.”

“You have clearly never taught a day in your life.”

Logan bristled. “Any adult who cannot add fractions should immediately be kicked out of university and returned to kindergarten where they belong.”

Patton looked at him for a moment hoping perhaps he would figure out on his own why what he just said was completely out of line. He just kept his jaw stubbornly firm. Patton took a breath. “And that is why you cannot go and teach these students.”

Logan scoffed. “I am not sure why my future self would put up with such things.”

“Because you almost failed your real analysis course,” Patton answered in a heartbeat. “Your first semester of teaching, you were also taking a first-year graduate real analysis course and you couldn’t understand a word of measure theory. It was the first time in your life that you had to work for a C. One day you looked at your students and came to the realization that the look on their faces when you tried to explain the product rule to them was likely the same expression your professor saw on yours when he tried to explain the existence of non-measurable sets. We all have our strengths and weaknesses and if we let someone else draw the line for stupid, there is every chance we’d end up on the wrong side of it. So,” Patton said crossing his arms, “I am not going to let you go ruin your own reputation with your students as a teacher who is not an asshole because you’ve not had to toe your own line yet.”

Logan met his eyes, clearly wanting to argue, but Patton just kept his face strict and his arms crossed. Logan’s face cleared suspiciously quickly, and he backed down. “Fine,” he agreed. “I will stay here.”

“Good,” Patton replied eyeing him. “Now put down the planner and let’s go back to work.”

Want to read more? Use the links below!

AO3 Part 9

My Masterpost

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #logicality #tsss #superhero au #memory loss #past child abuse #past child neglect #emotional suppression #self deprecation #gaps in his files #labeled universe #relabeled; refiled #adriana writes

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dreamcatcherjiah · 4 years

Text

Until we meet again. JK x reader

Part 1

A/N: @mabel-k3 sent these my way and I had a fantastic idea so I asked her and she allowed me to combine both!! What beautiful requests, these have unleashed my creativity big time!! Thank you for requesting, Momo!!

Also thanks to my lovie @lysjeon because she hyped me up so much after reading it and what can I say? THANK YOU TO YOU BOTH 🥺🥺🥺

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader (Jungkook has different names throughout his different lives, but they’re easy to spot ;))

Genre: ANGST, fluff, Reincarnation fic

Word count: 11.5k

Warnings: graphic violence, weapons, mentions of death, mentions of war, assassination, main character death (repeatedly), (and I think that’s it. If you find something triggering that I haven't listed, please let me know!! Enjoy!!)

Kingdom of Great Joseon, Hanseong. Year 1398.

Voices carried through the garden. Some of the guards were posted at the doors to prevent the peasants from entering the palace. Or to stop someone from getting out. The tumult and noise wouldn’t stop, carried by gossipy maids and new, inexperienced soldiers. They would learn, either one way or another. The Palace had been in an uproar since the King started thinking about abdicating, the Princes feeling uneasy, waiting to see which one of them would wear the crown next. Having listened to your fair share of courtly gossip, as the first assistant to the royal doctor, you knew there was actually no love lost between the Princes. Their attitudes were haughty at best and most of them were more concerned with their whimsy pursues than the good of such an incipient kingdom as Joseon was. King Taejo was a good monarch; he made peace with China and the Ashikaga Shogunate, bringing peace to his country after many years of war and uncertainty, yet it seemed his problems laid closer to Hanseong than he would have hoped.

His advisors had been the most loyal to him until the moment came when they had to pick a side to place their loyalty. Only one of his eight sons would become King and with him would come new favours to those who supported him and punishment for those who went against him in the battle for the throne. Word at court was that one of Taejo’s advisers, Prime Minister Jeong Do-jeon, was siding towards the two sons Queen Sindeok had borne the king. He had managed to place Prince Uian as the main heir to his father a few years back, but the opinion of most of the advisors was leaning towards the opposite direction; Crown Prince Uian and his brother Prince Muan may have been the most beloved by the King, but it was clear they were not what the kingdom needed of a monarch.

“Word has it in the King’s chamber that he will heed Jeong Do-jeon’s advice and do away with the Fifth Prince once and for all,” said one of the Queen Shinui’s chambermaids. The Fifth Prince, Prince Jeongan, was the favoured alternative at court. He was everything his half-brothers weren’t, intelligent, determined, and good for the kingdom. Naturally, he was a threat to Do-jeon and his cohort. “I hope Crown Prince Uian does become king,” she said, a dreamy cadence to her voice, “I may think about asking my father to introduce me as a possible consort.”

They were so enthralled in their conversation that they did not notice how they were directly in your path and neither did you, carrying boxes of supplies definitely too heavy for you. The inevitable crash echoed through the place as an explosion, glass vases and tonic bottles breaking, the minuscule shards of crystal flying in every direction leaving you, sitting ungracefully at its centre looking bewildered and quite a bit furious.

“What in the world do you think you were doing, gossiping like that?” you asked them. Your authority in the palace giving you quite the leverage to properly chastise these two silly girls. “What would have happened if it had been a higher official you had crashed into? Or, God forbid, one of the Princes or someone from the royal family?”

That last remark made them both drop to their knees and start profusely apologising. The prospect of losing their heads was a tad bit more fear-inducing than crashing into the Doctor’s apprentice and doing away with their supplies. As they scurried away and you picked up what you could salvage from the floor, you thought how convenient it was for them, here in the palace; their fathers trusted advisors to the King, with significant names backing them with years of honour and courageous deeds for the advancement of the monarchy. They would have everything they asked for at their feet if they so much as muttered they found themselves wanting it.

Passing through one of the storage rooms by the Doctor’s quarters, a hand emerged out of nowhere and you found yourself losing your balance and the grip you had on the glass of herbal poultice you rescued from the wreckage in the garden, which crashed on the straw floor with a muted thud.

“What you did back there to the daughter of Nam Eun could as well cost you your head,” said a voice you could recognise in a crowd. The soft chuckle that accompanied the threat and the sweet of his breath against the shell of your ear calmed your anxious thoughts and gave freedom to your heart to beat its way out of your chest. Strong, calloused hands circled your waist and you found yourself leaning against a firm chest that vibrated with his laughter and got closer and closer to you with every breath he took. “But I won’t tell on you, my dear.”

Turning around, you laid your eyes in the weathered and dirty face of the person you held most dear in this world. Oh Jookee was the captain of the Palace Regiment assigned to the protection of the Crown Prince and he had just arrived from accompanying him on a stakeout, preparing for the hunting season. His brown eyes held yours tenderly and his whole face morphed as he tried to contain a smile from overtaking his features. His pink lips finally gave way to that beautiful smile, his eyes turning into crescents and his cheeks becoming flush with happiness.

“My love, how did you manage to come back so… untidy?” you asked, pushing back some stray hairs that had escaped his manggeon. His hair was curling at his temples having escaped from the confines of the leather binding in at the top of his head. The accessory was a bit crooked and you could see the sweat beads along the black cloth. He gave you the image of how he must have been when he was younger and played on the dirt with his brothers. “I thought the Crown Prince just wanted to breathe some fresh air and prepare for tomorrow’s outing?”

Jookee nuzzled his nose along the column of your neck, causing that welcomed current from the tip of your toes to the end of the longest hair on your head. You hadn’t seen each other in months, and this meeting, while short-lived and clandestine, would be what would carry you through the months before you could ask the king permission to marry.

“We encountered some trouble on the way back and thought it prudent to bring the Princes back earlier. They are in Prince Muan’s chambers as we speak and I am required to join them presently.” He said. Even though he was young to be in such a powerful position, he took his duty to heart and he would never disobey an order, which made you question what he was doing hiding with you in the supply cupboard, and so you made him aware of your worry.

“You know Crown Prince Uian,” he answered, a sardonic smile spreading his lips after he managed to steal a kiss from yours, “he enjoys beauty and pristineness. In my present state I am still beautiful, but much less than pristine,” he joked. “I was sent away with the mission to do myself up with clothes fitting for a general, my dear.”

“Why, General Oh, I am afraid you will find yourself quite a long way away from your quarters,” you flirted. “How will you go back to the Prince in time, and all decent, if you don’t leave me now?”

Laughing at your poor attempt at jesting, he hugged you close to his chest, releasing a sigh when he couldn’t get his body any closer to yours. The happiness you felt in these kinds of moments was matchless to anything you had ever felt before meeting him, and nothing you would feel in your life together from then on.

“I must change my clothes, I am afraid,” he said, separating himself from you, slowly as if it was costing him an immense effort to do so, “go back to your master and be careful today, my flower,” he frowned. “The slight inconvenience I mentioned before is not yet taken care of, please watch yourself.”

Knowing he wouldn’t play you with something he didn’t consider serious, you promised to be more mindful of your surroundings and watched him go, with happiness in your heart and that already familiar sensation in your whole being, that sensation you felt every time you were forced to part.

It was nearly dusk when you were called to what used to be Queen Sindeok’s chambers before she died. A normal occurrence, it made you be just that bit more careful today. Even though Jookee’s warning managed to keep you on your toes through the day, there was no harm in being reasonably suspicious. After all, you were living in court.

Princess Gyeongsun, regal and poised, was sitting at a low desk in the middle of the room, flanked on both sides by her brothers, Crown Prince Uian and Prince Muan. Giving a quick overview of the room before being granted access, you located Jookee easily, a very imposing presence by Crown Prince Uian’s elbow. He looked completely different, wearing dark clothing beneath his shining armour and a concentrated scowl distorting his handsome features. He was the living, breathing image of a hero. His eyes drifted to yours for a brief second and you noticed how his mouth set in a thin line and a crease of worry settled between his brows.

With a twist of her wrist, the Princess called you over, and you busied yourself with serving her special tea blend, infused to perfection, just the way she enjoyed it. The Princes were bickering, back and forth, about some unbelievable treason they had not expected, how it completely changed the power game between the walls of the palace. Having been living this power struggle since you arrived at the palace five years prior, you were quite accustomed to the tension and the fear of betrayal that so delicately held the equilibrium of life in court; that being said, there was a seriousness to Crown Prince Uian’s tone that you had never heard before. He was the youngest of the princes, carefree and with a happy disposition, so to say that the frown adorning his features was disturbing was quite an understatement.

Chancing a look at Jookee’s face, you noticed his eyes moving nervously from the windows on the sides of the room, flanked by armed soldiers of the Crown Prince’s guard, to the door equally heavily guarded. Something was seriously amiss, but you needn’t have wondered any longer, as there was a commotion by the door and Jookee along with some of his soldiers moved in unison, blocking the Princess and Princes, and subsequently you, from whatever it was that waiting on the other side of the door. After a few minutes, silence took over and the tension escalated. Prince Muan was whispering furiously to his brother, his face red and distressed.

“We should have fled the palace,” he was saying, “as soon as we found out Do-jeon was murdered!” When those words left the Prince’s lips you knew how serious the situation was. The delicate equilibrium of power had just been altered with the death of the most powerful pawn at the hands of a very powerful enemy. “We should have never trusted him, he played you brother—”

Jookee made a curt but powerful hissing sound that managed to shut the Prince’s mouth in an instant. In any other circumstances, that would have gotten him the most severe of punishments, but as things stood, Jookee and his men were the only thing standing between certain death and the royals, and both princes knew that.

The doors imploded and in flooded many soldiers led by a very tall imposing man: Grand Prince Jeongan, the Fifth Prince. His face was impassive and his clothes were covered in dry blood. He didn’t seem at all bothered by this fact, as he wasn’t at all worried that the blood of the people he had murdered at the door was reaching his shoes. He straightened his shoulders and marched on forward, standing eye to eye with Jookee.

Your blood turned to ice. Jookee was the Captain of Prince Uian’s guard. If this was an attempt on his life, he would be the first one to fight. He could keep up in a fight, you had been witness to his quick strength and cold strategy when he trained on the palace grounds, grace and sheer power emanating through every pore of his body. But still, he was a guard sworn to protect the royal family, what was his fate when faced with such a decision as to protect one brother from the other? He would be seen as a traitor if he did so much as to grace Prince Jeongan with his sword, but if he resisted and didn’t raise his weapon, he would be seen as a traitor either way and executed for it. Your heart was trying to beat its way out of you, this time out of utter terror for what was about to happen. Your thoughts were your own, and so you allowed yourself to pray for him, to pray for the brightest star in the universe, the reason you drew breath every morning, you prayed for him to know his duty but also to know the value of his own life in a world that valued it so little in comparison to the people he was sworn to protect.

Time seemed to be at a stand-still, Prince Jeongan and Jookee face to face, looking each other in the eye, not a word being uttered. The Prince was a few years older than Jookee and much older than his brothers by Queen Sindeok, the youngest of them having barely turned sixteen last spring. There had been a time when the brothers played together and there was deep respect from the younger ones to the older, and a deep sense of responsibility and desire to protect the younger ones from the older princes. Now there was only betrayal in the eyes of the Fifth Prince and utter fear in the eyes of his younger siblings.

“You have no authority to stand on the way of a Prince, General. Move aside while I feel benevolent,” Prince Jeongan’s voice was deep and imposing, the voice of a person who was used to having his will fulfilled and his detractors beheaded. Turning your head, you saw Jookee’s shoulders take an even more determined stand and he stood, taller, determined, while more soldiers filled in the room.

Prince Muan, taking advantage of the distracted state of his older brother, had moved slightly to his right, so he was partially hidden behind Princess Gyeongsun. In the meanwhile, his younger brother, Crown Prince Uian had shifted in his sitting position and was sitting facing forward, towards the soldiers, with an impassive frown and a set sneer. In your opinion, neither one of them was fit to be king of Joseon, but you knew now who was the best of the two; at least the King had managed to marginally avoid putting a gutless puppet on the throne.

“If I move aside you may do something you will regret, my Prince,” answered Jookee, his voice calm and levelled. His words were not betraying the tumult that he was sure to be feeling inside. In a subtle movement, while he was still watching the Fifth Prince carefully, his eyes turned to you and you wanted nothing more than to tell him not to worry for you, to keep his head where it should be. “If you are here to talk to your brothers, allow the Princess and the servant to leave, they shouldn’t hear what will be said here tonight.”

You had no time to wonder what that was, for the prince had already drawn his sword and was pointing it towards Jookee’s throat, making thick droplets of sweat appear on your temples.

“And allow them to go warn my dear father’s guards of my presence here?” Jeongan chuckled and pressed forward, his sword drawing blood from Jookee’s skin. “I don’t believe so. It is, however, such a pity that you should find yourself here, General Oh, on the night I have come to kill my brothers.”

Those words made the night turn into chaos. With a swiftness you didn’t think him capable of, Prince Muan raised his sister from her cushion and moved with her towards one of the windows. The Princess, scared, reached for you and dragged you along behind her coward of a brother. When you were close to the window, you realised there was a shadow moving behind it. What a terrible mistake to leave the windows unattended when the prince entered. With a crashing certainty you knew now there was going to be a bloodbath tonight and there was nothing you could do to either flee the scene with Jookee unscathed or having him leaving with you willingly. What a horrible night for all the intrigues in the palace to come to fruition.

The soldiers charged forward and Jookee finally drew his sword to fight off the Prince, his movements fast and certain to try to defuse the sheer rage with which Prince Jeongan was pushing him backwards. The closer the squabble got to the Crown Prince, the harder he fought, and the harder Prince Muan pushed his sister to get to the window. Reacting just in time, you pulled the Princess backwards in the same second the window burst open and an arrow pierced the Prince’s chest. Incredulous, he dropped his eyes down in time to see a crimson stain spread over his blue silk-covered chest. Mere seconds after his eyes rolled back into his skull and his body dropped to the floor as if he had been nothing more than a marionette whose strings had been severed. Princess Gyeongsun, to her credit, kept a stoic and quiet calm even while life escaped her brother and got a hold of your hand. The both of you retreated to the furthest corner of the room while the fight to get to Crown Prince Uian was still ongoing and the bodies were dropping to the floor at an alarming rate. Jookee, now fighting the Fifth prince tooth and nail, kept his place close to the door, mindful of his surroundings in case he had to intervene if one of the soldiers got too close to his charge. More soldiers were entering through the now open window and now there was the added issue of arrows flying in all directions through the narrow window, taking down both friend and foe.

One of the Fifth Prince’s soldiers got rid of the guard fighting him off and advanced on the Crown Prince. Jookee, seeing this, turned his back on Jeongan and dispatched him before he could reach his target. In the few seconds that passed between the soldier falling and him looking at you, the dimension of his faux pas dawned on you. With his back unprotected and his eyes fixed on you to make sure no wounds were visible, he didn’t see Prince Jeongan raise his sword over his head and drop it in a powerful arch that cut deep wounds onto Jookee’s legs. The momentum propelled him forward, landing on his knees with a deep grimace of pain distorting his features.

You were frozen, pushing your body against the Princess’ so that she would come to no harm, but your whole world was leaning out of its axis. Your breath caught in your throat and all you could do was watch helplessly as the Fifth Prince walked by Jookee as if he was nothing more than an insect and approach his brother, who remained imperturbable and unmovable at the table. Looking up at his older brother, his frown still set, he straightened his shoulders and adopted a regal pose he rarely displayed.

“What are you doing here, brother?” he asked, knowing perfectly well the circumstances of his brother arriving at the palace in the middle of the night, and still enquired.

“You know perfectly well why I have come, little one,” he answered, sneering down at the young prince. “There was an attempt on my life not two days ago by that rat, the Prime Minister! And you and your filthy family were all behind it!” his voice was rising with each word, ending on a terrible scream that made the paper lamps hanging from the columns tremble.

Jookee was still kneeling, two soldiers standing rock-still next to him, one sword at his throat, the other at the nape of his neck. His eyes kept moving from where you were standing at the back of the room, to the quarrelling brothers, not knowing what to do, whom to help. He looked utterly helpless, his shoulders slumping and his trousers absorbing the spilt blood of his men. When you caught his eye, you saw the intense desperation that his eyes were hiding. You were aching to run to him, to tell him everything would be all right, but with the corpse of Prince Muan at your feet, you felt that the circumstances wouldn’t actually improve.

“That conspiration you are mentioning, brother, was staged by my mother Queen Sindeok and the Prime Minister as you so eloquently put,” spoke then the Crown Prince, “At present, I believe neither of them is a threat to you; the Queen died two years ago and I believe you did away with Do-jeon’s head not so long ago.”

“YOU ARE A THREAT TO ME!” Jeongan shouted. “Don’t you see? Had you not blindly followed your mother schemes; you wouldn’t have to die!”

The princes faced each other now, Jeongan in his thirties and Uian barely a teenager, both standing their ground. You could see their younger versions, the siblings everyone saw when the Fifth Prince would come back from a campaign in the name of his father and his siblings would be waiting for him in the palace, waiting for him to tell them the stories of his exploits and missions. What a fanciful far away dream that was.

With a snap of his wrists, one of his soldiers zeroed in on you and the Princess, who stood her ground with a presence few were able to muster in such circumstances. The man didn’t immediately make any move to grab any of you but his menacing eyes were set and his mouth contorted on a wicked rictus. He was the kind of soldier who thoroughly enjoyed his job; they were rare, those who instead of the honour of serving the royals sought only the power and the bloodbath, but they did exist. Jookee noticed him approaching from his position on the floor behind the princes and your hopes of leaving the room alive flew out of the window upon seeing his ashen face turn even whiter. You tried to convey how much you loved him with one look but the brute got in between and you could only see the soldiers pointing their swords at your lover’s throat.

“You have always sneered down at me knowing you would be sitting on the throne, safely away from me, when I realised how deeply treachery ran in your blood,” someone was saying. Your ability to concentrate on anything happening around you was slipping away from you, a blindly, white panic taking its place. “You shielded yourself with all the glamour and fanfare while your family were busy scheming, even your dear siblings conspired against you.”

As if some silent signal had been given, the Princess was taken from your side and made to kneel next to her brothers. She was still impassive, but now that façade wasn’t so much bravery in the face of danger, but actual knowledge of what was going to happen in the room and certainty that it wouldn’t affect her.

“You see, out of all our sisters, this one here has proven herself quite useful,” Jeongan droned on, unbothered by nothing while the future of a kingdom hung on the tip of his sword. “I was told ambition is not an appreciated trait on a woman, but I’m inclined to disagree. You can leave the room now, sister,” he said while she rose to her feet. She was nearly out of his reach when he reached out with his hand and caught her arm just above the elbow. “I don’t need to tell you that your presence here and what has happened tonight is not for public ears, now do I?” She shook her head and scurried out of the room faster than lightning.

If his sister’s betrayal did something to the Crown Prince, he didn’t show it. His face remained unreadable, his eyes fixated on the Fifth Prince as he pranced around him, comfortable in his victory. After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, Jeongan faced Crown Prince Uian for the final time and raised his sword in a silver, lethal arch. Aside from a minuscule flinch, the younger prince didn’t betray any reaction to the crimson stain spreading over his silk garments, nor to the metallic smell that seemed to penetrate the pores of every person in the room.

“I could let you live,” said Jeongan, “if you begged for your pathetic life on your knees. You have no supporters and you have proven to be the coward every single one of your detractors thought you were.”

Jookee was vibrating with rage behind the Princes. His eyes were thin slits that promised murder. In all the years you had known him, he had never looked as lethal and dangerous as he did now. He had been tasked with protecting the Crown Prince when he was no more than a boy himself and he had told you many stories about who Uian really was behind his mother and the minister’s plans. Granted, Jookee was as exasperated with the younger man’s excessive knack towards frivolity as everyone at court, but he also admired the Prince’s tenacity and courage. Growing up in the shadows of bigger people has taught him how to stand out, and yet remain unseen, he had told you one day, while the two of you returned to the palace from a festival in the city. He was relaxed back then, the Queen was still alive and, even though Minister Do-jeon was meddling on the King’s affairs more than recommended, the air of the palace wasn’t stale with tension and the expectation of tragedy, at least not for a few more years. It was around that time when he took you to his hometown and introduced you to his family; his mother, who shed tears as soon as her son told her his intentions on marrying you, his father, a stern man but who had warm eyes and very pleasant disposition; and his older brother, a high ranking officer in the King’s personal guard. You had spent the week helping his mother with anything she needed, tending to visitors and sharing private smiles with him. Happiness filled you back then.

“You came here to kill me,” answered Crown Prince Uian, bringing you back to a much darker present, “so go ahead and do it. I will not be considered some lesser being and be reduced to begging for my life.”

Upon seeing the older Prince raise his sword you started struggling against the thug keeping you in place. To impede you from reaching the royals, the soldier threw any decency to the wind and, taking advantage of his position, groped you all over. You hardly noticed as Crown Prince Uian straightened his shoulders and faced his brother head-on, for you were trying your hardest to escape the ruffian and get closer to them, perhaps if you could get rid of him and run fast enough you would be able to get in between the sword, avoid more years of chaos and instability. A double assassination could throw the kingdom into war and that could not happen.

“That’s it, you little bitch, you asked for it,” growled the man, and seconds later pain exploded from just below your ribcage, ripping through you until you felt the skin of your back breaking apart. There was a moment of blissful nothing until the sword was hastily jerked from your body and your body broke into violent spasms, your knees giving away and collapsing on the floor with an audible thud.

“NO!” you heard Jookee scream, an agonising growl, almost animalistic, as if it had been ripped from the deepest part of his soul. You heard him from a distance as if your head was submerged in water. The black edges of your vision made it difficult to see through the haze setting in; there was movement and a good amount of noise, of which you couldn’t make any sense, as the room tilted and you felt your temple hit the ground. In comparison with the flaming hot agony you felt around your mid-section, this injury felt ridiculously insignificant.

“Restrain him!” was saying the Fifth Prince, but Jookee was putting up an impressive fight. Not minding the swords at his throat, he rose to his feet and charged forward, swinging his sword at anything on his way to you. Rotten luck his was, as one of the things keeping him away from you was Prince Jeongan, who narrowly missed one of Jookee’s swings by a mere breath, jumping aside and seizing him by the hair at the back of his head. The crazed look on your boy’s face slipped away for a second and you could see the determined captain fighting against his better judgement and thinking if whether or not it would be worth it to raise his sword against the Prince. “You fool,” the Prince droned on, a dangerous glint in his eyes, “do you even know what you could have done? Had you left a scar in my body, I wouldn’t have been able to become king and all these assassinations would have been fruitless! I see you care more about some servant than the people you’re tasked to protect, do you not? If I recall correctly, the punishment for high treason is death.”

If you weren’t already trembling and cold, the ice that covered your heart at the Prince’s threat would have had you an incoherent mess in the floor in seconds. Your throat produced a drawn-out wheezing sound, but no one paid any mind to the agonising woman on the floor, not even your murderer, who had gone back to his position behind Jeongan.

Restrained from moving by the strong hand yanking his head back by the hair, Jookee moved his eyes to look at you and you could see through them how much it was breaking him to see you on the floor, away from him, and not being able, if not to take the pain away, to be next to you. He turned his gaze to the Prince and, with a voice clearer and steadier than you expected, giving that he was trembling out of rage, defied him one last time.

“I won’t protect a King whose throne is cemented over the blood of his own kin,” he said, poised and authoritative, even in this situation.

Not even deigning to give words back, Jeongan took the sword with which the soldier had run you through and impaled Jookee with it. For an instant, your vision cleared through your panicked tears and you could see the placid smile on your Jookee’s face, as a small spring of blood run from the corner of his mouth down his chin.

“If you care so much for this woman, over your own Prince, you might as well die by the same steel that killed her,” said the Fifth Prince before pulling out the sword and pushing Jookee’s head forward by the neck so that he fell on his side, a bit closer to you.

Whatever happened from the moment he collided with the floor onwards was lost to you. The sole focus of your drifting attention was focused on how Jookee was pulling himself by sheer force of will away from the royals, leaving a crimson trail behind him, toward where you lay, tears leaving his eyes from the pain, but certain and determined.

Lifting his head, his eyes locked with you as he grunted and you could see a thousand moments in one second; when the Court Doctor had introduced you to a scrawny lithe fifteen-year-old boy from the provinces, that seemed so long ago and yet you lived it as if it had been that same morning. When the bickering of childhood had turned into a beautiful friendship over the years, with him visiting you every time he was stationed at the palace, going on walks together, patching him up when he got rough with another soldier during training. The day he told you about his feelings it had been raining. Both of you had gone fishing to the river and when the sky broke it rained down with a vengeance. Your clothes soaked through so fast you’d had no time to seek shelter, and so it made no difference if you walked leisurely back to the palace or run your way there. Laughing as his hair stuck to his forehead and got tangled on the hilt of the sword strapped to his back, you didn’t notice how he was looking at you, with the softest smile on his lips, and reached a hand out to grab yours.

“I love how you laugh with your whole body,” he whispered. You shouldn’t have been able to hear him over the thundering rain, but you did. “I was meaning to tell you something as soon as we left the palace, but I just seemed to be missing the right moment.”

Tell me, you had whispered, as he drew you closer by the hand, moving a lock of wet hair away from your cheek with his thumb and leaving his hand there, caressing your face. You felt your heart on your throat and your eyes wandered around Jookee’s face, committing every second, every movement of his face to memory: the little scar under his left eye that he had gotten playing with his brother when they were children, the little dimples that showed on his upper lip when he tried to stop himself from laughing, everything.

“I know I am just a simple soldier and you could do much better than me, but I can’t live another day without telling you how you make my heart beat harder and are there every waking moment, in my mind and in my thoughts,” he said, quick and without drawing breath, giving away his nervousness. “We have grown old together. I can’t exactly tell you when my feelings for you changed, but I can just hope that yours did too and I am not overstepping your boundaries. I very much adore you and would be the happiest man on this earth if you loved me back just half as I love you.”

You couldn’t remember if you said something, or just jump into his arms, yours around his neck, and hugged him for the longest time. By the time you got to the palace, soaked through, you were a giddy happy couple who had planned, in such a short little time, what your life would be like when you got married.

It is incredible what the mind remembers in the most inopportune moments. We have grown old together, he had said and damn destiny, you wouldn’t get to grow any older. He was still painstakingly dragging his body to you, your vision blacker as the seconds went by, his face ashen but set. You knew he would reach you even if it cost him the last breath of life he had in his body. You wanted nothing more than be close to him until the end.

When he did reach you, he manoeuvred his body so that both his arms were encircling you, your face set against his chest which was shaking with shivers as violent as the ones you were suffering. Lifting your head with his bloody hand, he angled his so that you could look him in the eye. There, behind all the pain and the sadness at having both your lives cut short, was your boy, your Jookee, the one who had kissed you under rain and sun, over snow and with joyous passion, now dimmed as his consciousness began to slip away as fast as yours was. His lashes were wet with tears as he smiled at you, his teeth tinted with blood. You wanted to scream at the unfairness of today. What were the chances that you had to be here, the both of you, when a power-hungry Prince and a Princess too ambitious for her own good, decided to go around killing their siblings for the throne? Your life was fantastic, you were to be married to Jookee, a loving, caring and sensitive man, who would, no doubt, make your days beautiful and worth living if only to see the smile on his face when he came home.

“I love you,” he whispered, a tear escaping his eye and running down his temple. Your hand, resting on his chest, felt the erratic thump of his heart, trying to pump the little blood he had left to the rest of his body. Numbness had finally taken a hold of your body and you could feel nothing except from an overpowering sadness and helplessness.

“I don’t want you to die,” you sobbed. The hiccup caused by your cries did no good to your tired lungs, that tried to bring back the air you had expelled but were failing miserably. “Why did you… why would you act… so rashly? You… could have lived! You… have so much… to live for.”

“I have nothing to live for without you,” he whispered back, a wheezing sound leaving his body with every word he spoke, “I have no regrets if we leave together, we’ll die as we wanted to live. Holding each other.”

You could no longer keep your head upright, unable to kiss him one last time as you desperately wanted to do. Looking him straight in the eyes, as you heart broke into a million pieces, you whispered to him as your vision blackened completely. His sparkling eyes were the last thing you ever saw.

“I love you,” you told him, feeling your eyes close.

“If there is a life after this, let me find you again,” he said and those were the last words you heard as his body stopped moving and you slipped into unconsciousness.

You were walking along a river, barefooted. You felt as the warm, dark sand caressed your feet as you trod along, tirelessly. You knew you were looking for something, but couldn’t know what. Your mind was foggy and you couldn’t make sense of the flashes of thought that pierced through the milky white sheet. So, you kept on walking, maybe someday you would reach that place. What place? Days turned into months, or did months turn into days? Each hour passed swiftly and each second seemed to last a millennium. The shadows around the transparent willow trees grew closer to you the brighter the sun shined and the meadows were the most brilliant when the moon made its course across the sky. At some point between arriving at the river and then, you had stopped looking at how the sand engulfed your feet and lifted your head to look upon the thousands upon thousands of multicoloured stars that seemed to go on forever and whose light took residence in the most hidden corners of your soul. Silence surrounded you, incredibly noisy, even your footsteps on the sand were silenced. Weren’t you walking along a river? Shouldn’t the stream make some noise and silence your thoughts? You were meant to be someone else, somewhere else, and this unknown guilt was eating away at you. Yes, the night was silent, until it wasn’t anymore. The sound made you drop your head and you saw. The lonely figure walking along the same riverbank, only in the opposite direction. It was getting closer and closer as the years ticked by and you could almost distinguish the dark hair and the strong complexion that made him unforgettable to who you used to be. He was walking towards a bridge, standing proud atop the calm waters of the stream, red and powerful in a land where the dullest of colours were the brightest and the stars shone purple and green. His eyes and expression were covered in shadows and his gait stood out brilliant against the dark colour of the sand. You spent months walking towards him as he kept his steady pace towards you and, even though he was close enough to touch him, you never stopped walking but never could meet him in the bridge standing between the two of you. You were losing hope of ever this familiar stranger, what with having walked what felt like the longitude of the world twice for centuries. He was surely meant to stay there, the focus of your vision, and yet out of reach. Without knowing why that fact struck you as highly unfair. What had you done while living that the person you wanted to hold the most would forever stay strange to your touch? The stars faced and died and still there you were, walking to him, arms wide open and eyes brimming with tears, whispering over and over strange sounds that seemed to form words. Unknown words to you but familiar to him as he started to run. The seconds seemed to tick as if you were now walking through treacle instead of sand and you reached the bridge. Your body collided with his and intense happiness filled your whole being. Keeping him at arm’s length you were finally able to see his features, similar to the ones you remembered but not quite the same; brilliant eyes that seemed to reflect the galaxy over your heads, the scar was still there, but his hair was shorter, trimmed at the nape of his neck. His smile was still the same, blindingly shiny and unchanged.

“I’ll see you on the other side, my love,” he whispered and everything around you dissolved into nothingness.

Pink Hibiscus Cottage, Dartmoor, England. Spring 1922.

Watering the plants in your little cottage, you waited for the people to arrive. After a couple of quiet days, the cottage was going to be full of people and noise again. It had been so long that you could barely remember a time before your husband and you were the only occupants in the small wood house, close to Plymouth in Devon County.

Putting down the hose with some difficulty, you painstakingly made your way back inside and busied yourself with making tea. Once the kettle was hovering over the fire stove, you set aside two teacups and a little saucer with scones. It wasn’t likely that your husband would have enough appetite to munch on some sugary treat, but you were still trying to convince him to drink some tea. He was so quiet these days, so subdued. Up until a couple of months ago, he had still been his mischievous, playful self. His eyes always smiling at you, even when you bickered over small things; where did you put the stamps again?, he would ask you, exasperated that he seemed to forget all the time or, We should invite the children over more often, Christopher feels intimidated when we are alone and it is incredibly entertaining to watch. Christopher was your youngest son-in-law and your husband still teased him about the first time they met and the poor boy had tried his hand at introducing himself in Korean. His wife, your eldest daughter, had inherited a knack for pranking her husband, back then fiancé, more often than not using elements from her father’s Korean heritage that obviously went over the young man’s understanding.

The kettle whistled and you put everything on a tray to take it to your bedroom. It was a very sunlit room, the most luminous of the cottage, with windows lining the south-east part of the property. The wallpaper was a lively yellow flowery print, worn in certain places from the sun and bright and striking on some others. An armchair was put against the furthest wall, memories of rocking your children to sleep coming to mind the second you saw it, next to a massive oak shelf filled to the brim with books, both in English and Korean. If there was something your husband wouldn’t stand for as your children grew up was them not knowing where they came from and the riches of the country of their ancestors. Only your daughter Areum had been to what used to be the Kingdom of Late Joseon up until ten or so years ago, but even you, having been born in Plymouth, felt somehow part of that distant country. The centre of the room was dominated by a massive bed, the headboard and intricate pattern of forged iron, soft pillows supporting your husband’s body while he rested a few moments. Both of you knew those few moments were getting longer and longer, but no one mentioned it.

“I brought you tea, dear,” you said, leaving the tray on the nightstand and sitting on the bed. You leaned closer to your husband’s prone form, moving a few strands of grey hair away from his forehead. You found it funny, how after so many years, his hair refused to let go of the black colour it used to be, settling in a stubborn dark grey when he was fifty and never changing to white. He had also refused to cut it a while ago, and now it was getting closer and closer to the collar of his shirts. “Wake up a short while, my love. You need to be awake when the children get here.”

Groaning a bit, he opened his eyes and looked at you. As soon as he did, his face turned from a sombre and pained expression to the smile he always greeted you with.

“You know, Y/N,” he said and cleared his throat right away, straightening himself against the headboard, leaving a space for you to sit next to him. “had you not woken me up, I would have continued dreaming about the day we met happily.”

“I’m sorry I disturbed you, love. That was such a long time ago, do you still remember?”

“How can I not? I was the best day of my life.”

My father and I were set to arrive at Plymouth by mid-April, given that we had had to make a little detour to Massachusetts, but we didn’t expect to arrive at the beginning of May. Your father sent a letter telling us not to worry about our arrival, as he lived close to the harbour and would have no problem picking us up whenever he saw our boat beginning to dock. I still remember how nervous I was, coming to England and not speaking anything close to basic English, I was afraid I would be carnage to the old dogs of the docks, no matter what a big merchant my father was. After crossing the Atlantic, we arrived and just from the deck, my father pointed to where you and your father were standing.

You were so short, standing next to your father and not reaching his shoulder yet, and yet you were looking up at the boat, listening intently to how he explained something to you. And then you looked at me. I still don’t know what happened that day but it felt ethereal as if I already knew you and I was already madly, deeply in love with you. I could see your smile from the boat and my father would never stop reminding me in the following years how the first thing I said in English soil was “Have I seen an angel?”. You were so friendly from the first time we spoke to each other and even came to see me to our little room by the harbour with your books and your little sketches. Plymouth became a home to me thanks to you, you made a new country feel just like I felt in Joseon before we left.

“Oh, but I remember that day differently,” quietly, you interrupted him. He smiled tiredly and threaded a hand through your greying hair. You loved the feeling of him being caring and close to you. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you stuttered and were so shy I even thought you disliked me from the beginning.”

He chuckled as he tried to make himself a bit more comfortable in the bed, his back cracking and his lungs overworking themselves from the effort. Even if he was feeling bad, the second he turned to look at you, his eyes regained their spark and he kissed your forehead, allowing your head to rest on his shoulder.

“Why, I thought you were the finest woman I had ever seen. I even heard bells when you kissed my cheek later that week.”

“You Casanova,” you laughed, “I was already madly in love with you back then, I had to show everyone you were mine.”

He turned quiet, remembering those early days of your relationship, how you had been always together, when he would accompany you everywhere, under the pretence that his father had tasked him with keeping you company while the adults worked. You had been keeping correspondence while he studied English back home and him, being the strong-headed man he was, refused to return to England until he could properly talk to you. He would say back then that English didn’t make his native Korean any justice to tell you what he wanted to tell you.

“I proposed to you after that man insulted you for associating with me, remember?” he asked you.

“Kwangsu, please,” you saying his name was something rare. He was so fond using pet names and terms of endearment with you and your children your names were rarely called in the house, only when someone was in trouble or seriousness was needed, were those names called.

“No, I know you don’t like to talk about this because you think it upsets me, but I want to tell you, once again, how proud I was that day of calling you my friend. If I had any doubt that you were the bravest woman I knew, it was obliterated that day. I knew marrying you was the best decision I would ever make, and I am still amazed to this day.”

You had been waiting for Kwangsu to arrive back to your house from the harbour. Your father had been overjoyed when you told him your intentions of starting a courtship with him and so had been mister Yi. The two of you had been closer than blood since you had met two years prior and no one could doubt how strongly you felt for one another.

Someone had knocked at your door shortly after noon and thinking it was Kwangsu, you had run down the stairs and was unpleasantly surprised when Jack Richmond walked through the door, cane and walking coat in perfect condition and blond hair slicked back. He used to be your friend back when you were children until he had developed an attitude not many could stand. He seemed to think that only because his father owned the biggest training company in the city everything was his and everyone in town owed him respect. This attitude translated into his uncomfortable obsession with you, not so much unpleasant as it was unwelcomed. He would drop by unannounced, demand that you accompany him on one of his many strolls through Hoe Park, take you back to his immense house for tea with his mother and many other things that were not entirely tiresome if they weren’t coming from Richmond. Today, of all days, his presence was particularly tiresome and you itched with the want to run out of the door and go find Kwangsu. As soon as you saw Jack’s face, though, your every thought dissolved into weariness. He seemed angry and unsettled, twisting his neck in every direction, in search of something that obviously wasn’t there. If you hadn’t been starting to worry, you would have laughed at the perfect ostrich impression he was gifting you with.

“Where is that yellow friend of yours?” he asked, foregoing all courtesy and jumping straight to the reason for his impromptu visit. Which made you incredibly angry.

“What did you just say?” you demanded, livid on behalf of Kwangsu. How dare he, from his high and fragile pedestal, to speak such ill words of the person you held most dear?

“Ah!” he ignored you, looking over your head as the sound of the main door closing reached you across the parlour. “It seems I needn’t had worried, your shadow just arrived! It’s my lucky day!”

He brushed past you, making you lose your footing and grab for dear life at the bannister ascending to the second floor for balance. Jack was tall, slim and sharp and yet, he didn’t reach Kwangsu’s jaw when he tried to face him head-on. He was at an obvious disadvantage and he didn’t seem pleased when he realised it was so, his nostrils flaring and his brow creasing past the point of possibility. His shoulders straightened and his breathing became shorter and swallow.

Kwangsu, on the contrary, was calm and collected. He didn’t seem faced at all, his posture relaxed as he took on the other man’s stand. His feet moved a mere millimetre, slightly separated and firmly planted on the floor, making you remember that time he had told you how he had been taught martial arts since he could walk. In the event that a fight broke out, you were sure which of the two would end up fairing worse.

“What, you think you can just arrive from wherever you crawled out and take our women?” Jack was livid without reason. What did he care what the relationship between Kwangsu and you was? Apart from it being none of his business, he had managed to anger you past the point of reason.

You marched and walked in between the two men, your back to Kwangsu’s chest. If you stepped on Jack’s foot with excessive impetus, you would never recognise it.

“And according to you, whose property am I?” you asked, leaning back into Kwangsu and glaring at Jack through your lashes. If he thought he had the right to barge into your house and through ridiculous accusations left and right and lay a claim to you, he was sorely mistaken. “I must have lost the telegram telling me we were engaged to be married, Jack. Or is it that you are a long-lost member of my family to have a say in who I spend time with?”

His mouth turned into a deep frown and he screwed up his face in disgust. You could see the cogs inside of his head turning to figure out an appropriate comeback and coming back empty-handed.

“You are a good Englishwoman, Y/N,” he finally said, nothing better to voice. “I don’t know why you are wasting your time with this – this foreigner when you could be making connections for a good marriage.”

“Shove that good marriage of yours where the sun doesn’t shine, for all I care!” you retorted, as you saw your parents descend the staircase down to the parlour, surprised faces showing their confusion, but still they frowned and shot suspicious looks at Jack when they felt the tense atmosphere in the room. “Kwangsu is a thousand times the man that you are and if you insist to continue spewing your disrespectful propaganda, I am in the obligation of telling you that our association has finished today.”

Kwangsu took one of your hands in his and squeezed as your father shoed the dandy out of the door and your mother hugged you. None of you had ever cared highly for the Richmonds and thanks to what you did that day, you wouldn’t be forced to stand their company anymore.

“I didn’t last the week without asking you to marry me, did I?” said now your husband, hugging you tight to his chest.

“Oh no, you didn’t. and if you had I would have done something very indecorous and proposed myself,” you answered back with the same retort you did whenever you talked about that time. He loved how you weren’t the type to sit back and let things happen to them, much preferring to take the reins and make those things happen.

You lapsed into silence again as the shadows flickered around the room, highlighting parts of the wallpaper with brighter patches of light. Little by little the both of you drifted off to sleep and dreamed of the life you’d had. He woke you up with a coughing fit a couple of hours later and you painstakingly cleaned the beads of sweat from his forehead. He then asked you to help him change his sleeping shirt and trousers so that he could hug your grandchildren when they arrived. With a little too much effort on your part, he changed and settled back into the pillows, looking at you with guilty eyes. He had always been a very independent and dependable man, who would rather take care of everyone around him than being taken care of. As fate had it, he was destined to depend on you now.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you admonished him sweetly. “For every time you’ve depended on me, you’ve taken care of me a thousand.”

“I just find it difficult to make you worry so much,” he whispered, taking an iron hold of your hand. His eyes shone with unshed tears. “Guilt is eating away at me because I am leaving you behind, my love. I swore a long time ago that we would be forever.”

With a tired smile, you got closer to him and kiss his forehead. You had never had this conversation before, but you had known it was coming. He started looking at you with that guilty look the second the doctor had said there was nothing else to do except wait for the inevitable. He had been set on being as careful around you as he could be, not wanting you to exert yourself on his behalf.

“We both know forever is just a fancy young people tell each other, Kwangsu,” you smiled. If these were to be your husband’s last memories of you, you would make sure he remembered you smiling, if not happy. “We’ve had a great life together. Three wonderful children and so much love. I don’t regret anything.”

“Still,” he stubbornly retorted. It would be easier to sway a mountain than this man’s will. “I don’t like leaving you here in this house alone. We built it together and I thought we would have more time to share it. Why must I leave you when I would like to share a thousand more years with you?”

“Do you remember what I told you the day Soyeon was born? If you don’t remember that is the day in both our lives I depended the most on you.”

Frowning he nodded. You knew he remembered. As the years passed, he may have forgotten many things, but never that day.

“I nearly lost you both. I don’t think I’ll be able to forget it.” His face had turned ashen as the memories flooded him and it made you feel a little guilty at having provoked such reaction. Your intention was giving him fond memories to distract him while your children got to the cottage, but his mood had changed so suddenly you hadn’t thought it through.

“That day we got our Soyeonie, we became a family Kwangsu. I had never seen you so happy as the moment I woke up and you were holding her.” His eyes were now looking at you but he was very far away, maybe that day forty years ago when you had welcomed your first child into your hearts. “I still remember clearly how terrified you were when she fell off the tree in the garden one summer and she came back skipping, her mouth bleeding and her baby tooth held proudly on her fist.”

“That one was a calamity!” he said, letting go a strong laugh, his eyes wrinkling at the corners. “It is one of the biggest mysteries of humanity how we survived her childhood. She was always bleeding and giving us a heart arrest after another.”

“Yun wasn’t so bad, he was just happy following her around,” you remembered, seeing in your mind a pair of small children. A dark-haired girl with a sweet pink dress stained with mud and her hair going in every direction, and a baby boy waddling behind her, trying to keep up and getting dirt all over his short trousers in the process.”

“Yet neither of them gave us as many headaches as Areum did fifteen years ago,” he sighed, even if those days were a fond memory now, at the time it had seemed terrible and dangerous. “To fall in love with Yun’s friend and go back to Joseon when the situation was as bad as it was.”

Your youngest daughter, Areum was eighteen when she met Hongjoong, your son’s friend. He had been living in Joseon up until he turned sixteen and was sent by his father to help manage the branch of their trading company in England. Yun and Hongjoong had hit it off instantly and Areum had been captivated the second she saw the young boy. She would be found sighing in corners, looking out of windows when the boys arrived at the cottage from Plymouth in summer. The young man was bound to notice and it happened the year he decided to go back to his home country and help his father with their boat company seeing the Japanese threat getting closer and closer. In a fit of what she labelled courage and you labelled stupidity, Areum had left with him without telling you and had married when they arrived at Joseon. After that little stunt had followed many letters, getting scarcer and more worrisome as the years went by. It was early 1910 when they had arrived out of nowhere, with their son on tow, telling the news of how the Japanese had taken over and they had decided that returning to you was the best option for their family.

“Grandpa!” screamed a little voice, followed by the slam of a door and many adult voices admonishing the younger ones.

A huge smile illuminated your husband’s face and he sat upright in the bed with more energy than he had displayed in the last months. He was brimming with happiness at the mere laughter of your youngest grandson who, at six, was the biggest calamity the walls of the cottage had seen. Knowing how much you’d had to deal with his mother and her siblings, you weren’t really in agreement with how much Kwangsu validated the child, but you wouldn’t say anything. The door to the bedroom opened and in poured many dark heads and some slightly lighter. Your grandchildren all approached the bed and smothered their grandfather in love while your children stayed standing by the door, shocked to see their father is such a state. They must have remembered him as the energetic, happy and generous father they had last seen at Christmas, not this weathered and tired old man, laying on the bed, his face ashen and his bones noticeable through his skin.

Your eldest daughter, Soyeon, approached you, setting a hand on your shoulder and smiling wearingly at you. That gesture was enough to tell you how much they had missed you both and how much they were hurting too.

“Mother wants me to study so much!” was saying Yun’s daughter. At fifteen, she was an exact copy of her aunt Soyeon, a little explosive body and a personality to match. If it were up to her, she would be out of the house exploring everything she could find, including the harbour and the docks, which was no place for a young lady her age, according to her mother.

“Your mother wants you to be a learned young lady, don’t you want to be able to outwit your cousins?” asked Kwangsu, knowing exactly what needed to be said, as always. She was your only granddaughter and she would do anything to get ahead of her cousins and prove to them “what a girl could do”. Usually what a girl could do included swimming, playing polo and any other sporting activity they told her she couldn’t participate in, but it seemed that now that would also include studying, judging from the determinate frown on her face.

The hours after the arrival of your children passed happily. All your grandchildren had something to tell you, their parents complaining about their choice of spouse in the case of the older ones as your husband had done with your sons-in-law when he had been in their place. At some point, between laughter and witty remarks, the younger ones had drifted off to the garden to catch insects while their parents and older siblings went around bringing out chairs to take the evening tea in the sunlight. Kwangsu had asked you to open the curtains a bit wider so he could see your family enjoying themselves in the garden and you had, joining him on the bed again after and laying against the headboard while he settled against the pillows.

“I know now what you meant before,” his whispered, his eyes looking at you, reflecting the young boy you met in the docks all those years ago. “They make everything worth it. I have no regrets.”

His eyes gave a last determinate glint, memorising every corner of your face and he kissed the hand caressing his cheek. He relaxed, his body a dull weight against your side and the both of you listened to the laughter of your family as the shadows were growing and the light turned dimer.

“I love you,” he whispered and when you looked down his chest had stopped moving.

Keeping the tears at bay and through the unbearable knot on your chest, you tried to breathe in deeply and that air escaped your lungs in a strangled sob. His face was relaxed and he looked at peace. How were you going to live your life without him?

“Wait for me,” you whispered back and stood up to search for your children.

He had been waiting for a while, sitting at the bottom of the imposing bridge. He didn’t remember much but the place was oddly familiar and he just knew he mustn’t cross the bridge. He had seen how the trees moved to the soundless music of the river, how the dark sand had been covered by snow and turned even warmer. He had tried to see his reflection in the waters of the river but had never gotten close enough. There was always something that caught his fancy and took his attention away from the water. One day, the stars had started a dance overhead that kept him mesmerised for what only looked like a second. He had dropped his head after and realised the trees had withered. Or was it only an illusion, for it seemed that nothing withered in this land. Time was also a strange concept. He felt like he had been walking for an eternity when he reached the bridge and the time he had been here having passed fleeting and short. The days and nights succeeded each other faster than they should have, had he been still living. Even if the red construction promised oblivion and a cease of this boredom, he still sat upon the wooden steps. It was night, and the stars shined brighter than the brightest sun in multicoloured patterns, so close to him he could feel their coldness in his whole being. And then, in between the stars appeared another figure, clear and almost ethereal. Her hair flying around her body in swift breaths and he stood up. He knew her, he had been waiting for her. No words were needed, he wasn’t even sure if words were possible here. He just hugged her to him with the strength of all those centuries he had spent without her. And together, they crossed the bridge.

to be continued x

#bangtanarmynet #mabel-k3 #jeon jungkook #jungkook reincarnation #bts reincarnation #bts reincarnation fic #bts fic #jungkook #requests open #open requests #jiah:r.txt #dreamcatcherjiah

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astraeagreengrass · 5 years

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The Queen’s Husband [1/?]

When her reign is threatened, the Queen of Ergona must find a husband to secure her throne.

Pairing: King!Steve x reader AU

Word Count: 2.875

Warnings: Minor descriptions of violence. No smut - but there will be in later chapters. English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

A/N: This was originally my submission for a writing challenge that never came to be. My prompt was “Elizabeth”, the original score composed by David Hirschfelder for the 1998 movie starring the incredible Cate Blanchett. I thought it was the perfect opportunity to try and sate my King Steve obsession - which I blame entirely on @invisibleanonymousmonsters‘s Heart of Steel and @shreddedparchment‘s Pseudo Princess (two masterpieces written by incredible authors whom I look up to so much!).

Series mastelist

The air smelled like salt water, blood and smoke.

Your face was damp from the sea spray or your tears, you weren’t sure. Wiping your eyes furiously you stood still, staring straight ahead at the burning fleet of Zerbolian warships.

Their soldiers were still screaming.

Closer to the cliffside, Ergona’s armada stood in defense position. Over one hundred ships at the Queen's command, making it the most powerful and feared navy in the world. The Zerbolian king had been a fool to think that, out of all ways, he would win this war at sea.

He hadn't believed his advisors, choosing instead to put his faith on the assumption that he could never be bested by a woman, and a young one at that. His mistake, you pondered, hadn't been to think that Ergona would bend to his will as it had during your father's reign, but to think that you would.

You, however, were not your father. And tomorrow you'll ride into the capital city of Albeon like he never did, celebrated by your people as the ruler who put an end to the Zerbolian threat.

But today you would mourn.

It didn't matter that most casualties had been on the enemy's side. Death was still death. Across the Muir Sea women would cry for the men they had violently lost at the hands of Y/N of Ergona. Women such as yourself, albeit none of them had to carry the heavy crown of their kingdom, and for that they were better than you were.

The sound of hooves broke through the howling of the wind. Looking back you saw a beautiful black stallion making its way to you. His rider was a blonde man you could tell from afar, whether from his distinct shield or from the sheer strength of his presence.

“Your Grace” he said, moving his horse to stand next to yours.

You cleared your throat, trying to disguise your choked voice.

“Captain Rogers” you answered, sounding as stoic as you possibly could. “I thought you were at sea.”

“I was. But I noticed your horse standing at the edge of the cliff so I sailed ashore.”

“Isn’t it reckless to sail ashore while the enemy’s fleet is still burning?” you retorted.

He let out a dry laugh.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but this is far from the most reckless thing I’ve ever done.”

You didn’t answer. Captain Steven Rogers indeed hadn’t made his fame by being careful. The son of a wealthy Duke, he had traded the comforts of a life at Court for a military career. He had yet to reach his third decade of age, but his accomplishments on the battlefield were well known in all of Ergona, earning him the respect of powerful men much older than him.

For the five years you had been queen he had stood by you. A man of unquestionable loyalty and honor, Captain Rogers not only managed to unify the army, but to restore the naval forces to their glory in an incredibly short time. You owed him the defeat of Zerbolia, as well as your safety in the face of the assassinations attempts he managed to uncover.

Twice now you had questioned him about his future aspirations during small council meetings and twice he's given the same answer:

"My duty is to Y/N of Ergona. As long as my queen judges me fit to fight for her and her kingdom, then so I will."

His words unsettled you. Your experience taught you that no man could be that virtuous. They always wanted more. And Captain Rogers, with his prestige and influence, could very well be coveting your crown.

"I hope I'm not being too forward" the man himself said, as if he knew you were thinking of him. "But are you alright, Your Grace?"

His concern surprised you.

"I suppose it is odd for someone to cry for their enemy's loss" you answered.

"Not odd, just surprising. But I shouldn't have expect less from you."

You turned to him, brows furrowed.

"Whatever do you mean?"

Under your questioning gaze, Steve blushed, his cheeks turning a subtle shade of light pink.

"Pardon me, Your Grace. I didn't mean to offend you" he quickly apologized. "But, in my eyes, crying for those poor dead soldiers doesn't make you weak or odd. It only showcases you humanity. And maybe it is unwise for you to show yourself like this - God knows you have enough criticism as it is. It is strange this world we live in where humanity is seen as a vulnerability, but, in my eyes, it just makes you greater queen."

Smiling, he added:

"Not that I ever doubted your greatness."

The screams were gone now. Only the strong wind remained, bringing ashore the distinct smell of burning flesh. And although you were starting to feel nauseated, you couldn't take your eyes off Captain Rogers.

"Do you think we did well by crushing the Zerbolian fleet the way we just did?" you finally inquired him.

"I think our worst decisions are made during war. But yes, I doubt we'll have any more conflicts with Zerbolia after today."

"I don't want to be a warmonger queen. I don't want my greatness to come from the blood of my enemies or the tears of my people" you continued.

Captain Rogers was silent but his eyes were filled with an affection you can't place.

"You are repairing your father's mistakes and they were many. There will be blood to pay, but ultimately, Ergonia will rejoice. It already is. The people call you The Golden Queen - the one who brings glory back to the land", he said.

You are lost for words. Your most basic instincts, the ones who recalled the way your father mistreated your mother and the everyday hardships of negotiating with men who didn't take you seriously, willed you not to fall for his kindness. But another part of you - young and carefree on the fields of Foghar - found solace in the hope his words brought you.

Before you could answer another rider arrived, bearing a red flag with the dragon sigil, your House motifs.

"Your Grace. Captain Rogers" he greeted, bowing while still astride his horse. "Lord Stark calls for you, Your Grace. He wishes to ride back to Albeon as soon as possible."

You nodded.

"Thank you, Mister..."

"Peter Parker, Your Grace".

"Thank you, Mr. Parker. Please tell my uncle Captain Rogers will escort me back to camp."

"Yes, Your Grace", the boy bowed once again, before returning the way he had come from.

Turning to Captain Rogers you realized the moment was gone. Whatever talk you had shared today would stay here, atop the Gaothach Cliffs, only the restless sea as your witness.

"Thank you for your company, Captain Rogers" you said and your voice was back to the detatched tone you usually spoke in.

Steve glanced at the last remains of the enemy's ships, before pulling the reins of his horse.

"Anything for you, Your Grace."

A fortnight after the events at the Gaothach Cliffs you sat in the council room surrounded by your advisors.

"A letter arrived today from the King of Zerbolia" Lord Fury, the master of warfare, announced. "He wishes to sign a peace treaty, putting an end to the conflict between our nation and his."

The corner of your lips lifted slightly, in a discreet but satisfied half-smile.

"And what do you propose we do, Lord Fury?" you asked from the head of the table.

"The peace treaty is what we coveted, but it may be a trap. I suggest we send a diplomatic party to the Isle of Solas, which is neutral ground, and celebrate the treaty there. Furthermore, to protect Your Majesty's well-being, I suggest that you send someone to sign it, rather than going yourself."

"Very well" you said. "You'll be responsible for organizing the diplomatic party and the signing of the treaty for as soon as possible. And when the day comes you'll sign it as the queen's representative."

Lord Fury bowed. His face, usually an inscrutable front adorned only by his eye patch failed to hide his surprise. He expected you to oppose him, instead going on to sign the treaty yourself. And to deny what you felt was an obligation as a ruler was another blow to your pride - a king would have braved any threats on his life to ensure his country's peace. But a queen such as yourself - young, unmarried and childless - was expected to sit still.

You'd had a small victory when the council agreed on you going to the shore to accompany the army as it faced Zerbolia. You suppose you could grant them this concession.

"Lady Natasha, what news do you bring?" you turned your attention to a beautiful redheaded woman standing on your left, Natasha Romanoff, the master of whispers.

"Your Grace" she begun in an uneasy timbre you hardly ever heard. Natasha was anything but meek. Whatever one of her spies had discovered was not good. "Earlier this morning your cousin, Queen Margaret of Beathan, gave birth to her first child."

Lord Fury coughed on his wine. It would have been comic if the news weren’t dreadful. Natasha’s heavy words rung in your ears, distorted, as if your body had been been dunked underwater and the pressure kept you from doing anything other than allow the current to plunge your body deeper.

Lord Stark, master of coin, finally broke the silence.

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"It is a boy" Lady Natasha answered. "Heir to the throne of Beathan… And Ergona."

Lord Stark cursed. Lord Strange, master of trade, stood and began pacing the room.

"Are you positive that this child has a claim to the throne?" he said.

"Of course he has" Lord Fury cut in, face red from all the coughing. "Your Grace has yet to bear children, therefore she has no heir. And Queen Margaret is her closest living relative. If Queen Y/N dies before securing her lineage, then the throne goes to Margaret. And since Margaret is already queen the crown falls upon her son, who would unify the kingdoms of Beathan and Ergona."

Queen Margaret was your cousin on your father's side - the royal side. Her mother, your aunt, had married the King of Beathan and Margaret was their oldest child, thus becoming queen upon his death. Since you had no siblings, Margaret was next in line to the throne of Ergona which was always a very remote possibility considering she had her own kingdom to rule. But the birth of a son changed things immensely.

Under the table, Natasha squeezed your hand.

"My Lords" you faintly rose your voice, silencing the debate between your male advisors. "What shall we do about this matter?"

They were dumbfounded, each one not-so-subtly staring at the other wondering who’d be brave enough to answer. Sighing, Lord Strange spoke:

"Your Grace, there is only one way for us to end this threat. You must marry and produce an heir."

“Once you have an heir, then he or she will be the next in the succession, guaranteeing the future of you House" he completed.

"No, Lord Strange. Only a son will guarantee the future of my House. A daughter will be just like me - as prepared as any man, as educated as any man, but in the end she'll still need a husband to secure her reign. It happened to Margaret and apparently it is what will befall me: queens, it appears, are only means to an end. It looks to me that we're not meant to rule with our hearts, but with our wombs".

Lord Strange slumped on his chair, embarrassed. But his words were true: you had tried, day and night for the past five years to establish yourself as a strong ruler. You ended wars and initiated policies which benefitted commoners and royals alike. The taxes were controlled, the public coffers were full and the military thrived. Ergona had established itself as a key player in international trade routes. However all your accomplishments failed to quell public demands for your marriage. Your gender threatened to topple everything you've built.

You weren't oppose to marriage, per se. Lord Stark and his wife had a long, happy marriage and so did Lord Strange and others you knew. Your anxiety came from having to share your crown and the responsibility that came with it. As queen you had a wide variety of suitors, Ergonans and foreigners alike, but anyone could fake their intentions in order to secure power. The wrong husband could mean a hellish life to you and your people.

Lord Fury, never one to be subtle, landed the final blow:

“There has been much talk about your lack of commitment to marriage, Your Grace. I know you’re aware of it. And they will only get worse with the news of Margaret’s son. Your father weakened the kingdom, but you’ll never restore it to its full glory on your own. Fight as many battles as you want but in the world we live in a queen can’t rule without a king.”

"I am well aware of the world we live in, Lord Fury" you replied. "More so, I am well aware that my position demands sacrifices."

For the second time that morning, he was visibly surprised.

"I only ask that you be very careful as you chose my betrothed. Not only for the safety of the kingdom, but for my well being as well."

"Your Grace?" Natasha asked in a whisper but you didn't answer. There would be time for you to confide in her privately.

Lord Stark cleared his throat. His eyes were filled with unshed tears.

"Your Grace" he said. "My beautiful niece Y/N. I have raised you as my own since you were nine years old. My sister's spirit lives in your words and deeds and in the way you rule this country with all of your heart. I protected you with everything I had until that fateful morning when you were forced to abandon your youth to carry this heavy crown and since then I've felt that my everything is no longer enough to spare you from suffering."

"Right now, not as your advisor, or as the Duke of Foghar, but as a man who loves you like a father, I ask that you please consider Captain Steven Rogers to be your husband. He is the best man I know and the only one I trust to treat you as you deserve."

Surprisingly, Natasha agreed.

"It is not a bad idea" she turned to you with a gentle gaze. "He is related to the Asgardian royal family. His late mother was Queen Frigga’s sister and his father is the Duke of Arvenia, who was one of your father’s closest advisors."

“Well that brings me no comfort” you muttered dryly. “We are all well aware of how costly my father’s and his advisors' actions have been to the kingdom.”

"The Duke of Arvenia was indeed a terrible advisor" Lord Fury said. "However he wasn't chosen as an advisor for his expertise, but because whoever controls Arvenia controls the West. It was how your father managed a stable relationship with that part of Ergona, a relationship that is now at risk without a strong western representative at Court."

He continued:

"You have secured good support in the East because of Lord Stark and your mother's family. Besides, your House is traditionally an eastern house. Be that as it may, the western lords never fully accepted your House's ascension to the throne, which lead to seven rebellions in less than five hundred years. That is a lot. The Duke of Arvenia is rich and powerful on his land and if his son becomes king then we’ll no longer have to worry about the West rebelling."

Ergona was traditionally divided in two provinces – Arvenia do the West and Foghar to the East. Once two separate countries, they were unified by your ancestors after a bloody war centuries ago, in a move that established Ergona and it’s capital, Albeon, a fortified city strategically located between the two regions.

History made dealing with the West a tricky matter. When it’s lords weren’t blatantly questioning your House’s authority, they were either demanding more representation at Court or fomenting new conflicts which resulted solely in dead soldiers.

A Western king could shift this dinamic positively.

“Your heir - the son of an Eastern mother and a Western father. Ergonia united. You'll secure your crown and the safety of the kingdom" Lord Strange professed.

You squeezed Natasha's hand under the table for the third time. Your grip was so strong your knuckles had to be white. Your gaze landed on Lord Stark - Uncle Tony - and he gave you a reassuring smile, tears now streaming freely.

He knew this day would come, when you, much like your mother, would mary out of duty instead of out of love. He could only hope you’d have better luck than she did.

Taking a deep breath, you said:

"Please summon Captain Rogers to Court. I will speak with him myself. This council is dismissed."

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