#yes this is kingdom hearts related

[royalberryriku]

I made a whole ass language, script and alphabet for my kingdom hearts fanfic just on impulse oopsie.

[ok4ru]

I know he is a theater kid and a cats person‼️‼️

[aequitaes]

.

[noxtivagus]

thinking about if ever i go to one of those final fantasy orchestras i will Cry

[giamee]

🧩 ᯓ★୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔!

STARRING. ノ geto ✦ gojo ✦ choso

summary. ノ as a princess, you need a knight to keep both your body and heart safe from harm. luckily, he's got that covered.

word count. ノ 6.6k

contains. ノ royalty!au, princess!reader x knight, some suggestive content but nothing explicit, fem coded reader bc princess

gia's notes. ノ this draft has been sitting at the VERY bottom of my notes but i've finally dug it up and blown the dust off of it hehe. i have more ideas for this premise so if anyone asks i'll do a part two. eagerly.

GETO SUGURU ⌇ despite his politeness, there's more to him that lies below the surface

when you first met geto suguru, the most prominent thought in your mind was just how surprisingly pretty he was to be a mere knight. his delicate features and unblemished face seemed more fitting to be that of a nobleman's, and when he kneeled to you to swear his loyalty, his every movement was dictated with a gracefulness that suggested he was born royal.

always smiling, always alert, always vigilant, geto now accompanied you in your daily life like a second shadow. and while there had been... admittedly few attempts on your life, you chalked that up to his talent rather than a lack of conspiracy.

you had asked him one night when you had sneaked too much drink during a feast and you were too loose-lipped on your way back to your chambers, why his face was so handsome if he was just a knight.

he had merely laughed at your drunken question, readjusting his grip on you as he half-carried, half-guided you back.

"i'm handsome because nobody's been able to lay a finger on me."

you were quite fond of him, beyond his ability to keep you safe. you may be naive but you weren't stupid- you knew how others looked at the pair of you, how scandalous it was for the princess and her handsome knight to be so close with each other, in public at that.

it was incredibly apparent at balls and other royal events- ever so cumbersome, but still a requirement- that you always made sure to drag geto along to, no matter the security detail. and if you had personally ensured that he wears clothing befitting of a royal, and more importantly matched your gown every time, who wouldn't jump to conclusions?

in all honesty, you liked the attention it drew to the pair of you. you revelled in the glances shot your way, zeroed in on your hand looped around his arm or the way his encircled your waist, looking more like a courtier than a bodyguard.

you liked how the other women of the court looked at you with not just disgust, but with jealousy, because you knew that they certainly knew that geto suguru is a very handsome man. and no matter how much they stare, the fact that he was firmly attached to you would never change.

and if they hated you, let them come. geto would keep you safe, anyway.

whilst you were more than happy to live life as you were (the same as always with no real responsibility), the world continued its course, and you found yourself being suddenly thrust into something that you never imagined would happen this soon- a removal of your freedom.

that wasn't its official title, of course. a marriage proposal is what it had been presented to you as. to some poncey prince from a neighbouring kingdom in the name of keeping peace and good relations with neighbours- it was enough to make you feel sick.

you remembered ranting about it to geto that night in your bedchambers- yes, he was in them whether it was permissible or not- him merely chuckling at your rage while leaning against one of the walls, watching as you paced the room, waving your arms fervently to accentuate your frustration.

"relax, your highness. you'll still have me, after all." his words have an effect on you, admittedly, and it's comforting to find some constancy in him.

on nights where you let your imagination take over, it's quite easy to imagine him as a prince, one who courts you and you fall for and eventually marry- a mere fantasy to escape from this world.

despite your wishes, despite the rumours, the royal engagement continues. you haven't even met your fiancé, yet the marriage is due to happen this spring- symbolising the fresh beginnings of this joyous union.

geto had been gracious enough to accompany you on your newly-developed habit of taking long walks around the castle in favour of sleeping. you might as well memorise every nook and cranny before you'd be forced out of here- kicking and screaming, no doubt.

despite geto's best efforts, the joy you once found from life in the castle was quickly draining, merely fluff to pad the days leading up to the inevitable date.

an arrangement to meet this prince in person was very quickly procured out of nowhere- you couldn't remember his name for the life of you- and you found yourself going through the motions of being even more dolled up for a special ball with little to no enthusiasm. there was once a time where you would be bursting with delight at the beauty looking back at you in the mirror, though now it felt like you were being trussed up in the same sense the cooks were preparing the roasted animals on golden platters for everyone to feast on.

you were just meant to look as appetising as possible. you felt like a prize cow. anything in the name of peace.

you heard someone clear their throat from behind you- your eyes flicked up to your mirror to see geto stood behind you, his gaze particularly soft. you smiled at his outfit, equally exquisite in its brocade and material as yours. a perfect pair.

"i know i say this every time i see you, but you look especially radiant tonight, your highness." and just like that, you're glad to be so dressed up.

"thank you, sir geto." his lips twitch at the official title, but he extends his arm out for you to take nonetheless. "you look very handsome yourself." his cheeks go a shade darker, barely noticeable. you see it, though.

"how could i manage without you?"

the ballroom was decorated even more lavishly in commemoration of tonight- a decadent gold being the setting for this glorious occasion. you hoped that the prince would live up to the grandeur. or at the very least, not be completely hideous to look at. he'd never look as good as geto.

there were a lot of formal introductions. you always had hated curtsying, but the practice you were forced to endure paid off- you were nothing less than perfectly gracious as you met the officials of the neighbouring kingdom, and then, finally, the prince. he winked at you before kissing your hand and asking you to dance. you would rather dance with someone else.

at least the prince wasn't ugly. with the way he looked at you, though, you had to try not to let your nose wrinkle in disgust as you read the lechery in his eyes. was this really who you would be bound to 'til death do you part?

he stank of wine as the two of you danced. you were surprised that he wasn't toppling over, with the way that his words were already slurring. you tried your best to smile and nod along, though you couldn't help your eyes from wandering over his shoulder, settling on the figure of geto stood on the edge of the dancefloor.

you longed for him to be the one before you, and judging by the look on his face, it's what he would have wanted too. even jealousy looked good on him, his narrowed eyes and set jaw infinitely more handsome than the prince's leering one that you barely avoided as he lurched towards you, a little too close for this courtly dance.

geto jerked forwards at this, hands automatically settling on his sword. his eyes met yours, a silent plea to let it go exchanged before he begrudgingly relinquished his defensive stance. his little action still sent a thrill running through you nonetheless, something to cling to as an affirmation that he cared in more than a professional sense.

you let your thoughts wander as you danced, and you didn't do much to try and reel them back in. would it really be so bad to become wedded to a knight? it was unheard of, but there was a first time for everything, you supposed. you wouldn't mind no longer being a princess, as long as you were with him.

that realisation snapped you back to reality, just as the ending notes of the song played. your mandatory dance was over, and you curtsied to the prince before excusing yourself, weaving your way through the crowd of nobles until you reached the outskirts of the ballroom. your whole world felt like it had been tipped on its axis with this revelation, and even then you couldn't help but seek him out.

it was like an invisible force drew you together as you all but crashed into geto, him steadying you and immediately taking in the no doubt frenzied look in your eyes.

"are you alright, your highness?"

"i'm alright, just need to get some air."

geto nods dutifully, keeping hold of one of your arms as he navigates the crowd, slipping the both of you out of a side exit, the noise of the ballroom immediately drowning out as the door shut behind you.

"is that better, your highness?" your heart warmed at the genuine concern written over his face, and you nodded gratefully.

"much better."

the pair of you walk in silence for a few minutes, retracing the same routes of the castle that you had both become so accustomed to recently. it was comfortable to be with him, no matter the occasion.

"you know, i wish i could dance with you." it wasn't quite a confession, but it would do for now. geto paused for a second, and you saw him turn to look at you in the corner of your eye.

"there may be no music playing right now, but it would be an honour to have this dance, your highness." he bows down low, a mockery of etiquette, and you giggle before slipping your hand into his outstretched one. he's smiling as he straightens back up, his other hand curling around your waist with a gracefulness that would put the entire royal court to shame.

the dimly lit corridors became your private ballroom, and geto led you down them nimbly. another giddy laugh escaped you as he raised his arm, letting you twirl freely before bringing you close to him again.

it's a back and forth that you enjoy being led through, wondering to yourself just where he learnt to dance like this but not finding the heart to complain about it. it was a sweet moment amidst the growing realisation that this would most likely be ripped from you as you are forced to move to a different kingdom, away from everything that you've ever known. well, almost everything.

one particular turn has you stumbling ever so slightly, the questionable gap left between you and geto fully closing as your head collides with his chest. his arms instinctively protect you, effectively encasing you against him, leaving you to merely stare up at his face with a dumbfounded look on your face.

"your highness?"

he looked so much more handsome up close, and the torchlight cast shadows that only accentuated his features. you could count his eyelashes from here, feel the slight rise and fall of his chest against your own as you both leaned in ever so slightly- just a few more inches and your faces would be-

a noise from the end of the hallway distracts you, and your focus slips from the man before you to whatever lay behind him

you're horrified by what you see before you. it's that very prince, your fiancé, nestled in one of the darker corners castle, and he wasn't alone. your brain took a little longer to comprehend what was happening, but with the way the woman he was with was pressed up against the wall, caged in by his arms, and the little moans that echoed against the stony walls, it didn't take a genius to figure it out.

"let's go." you sounded so robotic, a ringing in your ears making your voice sound a thousand miles away as you began to retrace your steps, taking you further away from the transgression you just saw. you were vaguely aware of geto talking to you, but your thoughts were too overpowering to properly process anything other than the rising tide of emotion quickly consuming you.

you could barely turn the next corner before you felt yourself start to break down, tears that you fought so hard to contain tracking down your face. even with your back to him, geto read you like a book, placing a hand on your shoulder in some sort of attempt to comfort you.

you took it as an invitation to turn around, burying your face in his chest and letting yourself properly cry as his arms wrapped around you, one rubbing circles on your back and the other petting your hair.

"i wish you were a prince, geto," you sobbed into his tunic. your knight merely chuckled, continuing to stroke your hair as he let you stain the expensive clothing with your tears.

"i do too, your highness." his tone is light, but you still detect the underlying sincerity. it doesn't do much to stop your tears, though, until you feel one of his hands cup your face. these hold more evidence of him being a knight, with rough callouses marring his otherwise flawless hands. his fingers brush back the strands of hair that have come loose from your elegant updo, lingering a moment too long.

"besides, why cry, your highness? you and i both know that your heart does not belong to him." his hand's still on your face, fingers now hooking underneath your chin, raising your gaze to meet his. his smile's coy, and you both can read between the lines of what he's saying. it had been rather obvious for a while now.

that your heart lay a lot closer to home. that maybe the rumours were right.

"you'll always have me."

GOJO SATORU ⌇ he's two whole years younger than you

officially, the title of royal knight carries a certain air of poise, of authority and grace that forces your spine a little straighter whenever you cross paths with them. but never did you think that this man would be the one entrusted with your life and safety in general.

you were more mature than him, and that's saying something. and despite his insistence on being one of the strongest, in your eyes he certainly didn't act like it. but if he was appointed as your personal bodyguard, then that must mean that he did something worthy enough to fulfil the role, right?

despite your slight doubts, you didn't actually have anything against him. on the contrary, you rather enjoyed his presence. he wasn't afraid to make himself known, and you much preferred the thought of him as an animate person than some silent looming shadow that mirrored your every step.

besides, he wasn't half bad to look at.

you especially liked it when he was in the mood to humour you and your questions, opening up a little about his life before becoming a knight- of the small village he used to live in, the beauty of life beyond the castle walls, and his stories intrigued you, invoking a childlike wonder that hadn't been piqued in years.

satoru had told you of one particular festival- a lantern ceremony to celebrate a bountiful autumn's harvest. it was one you had heard of, had seen always from a distance, the faint lights of hundreds of paper lanterns floating into the sky mere pinpricks that blend into the stars from your vantage point of the castle window.

he has a knack for storytelling, too- for better or worse. he spins gold with his tongue, painting a picture so lovely and vibrant that you are compelled to see it in person- whether it is as wondrous as the knight claims it to be.

and gojo has always been up for a challenge.

"satoru."

"princess y/n." he's amused, already knowing what your proposition will be before you utter another word.

"how good are you at keeping me safe?"

"incredibly, why?"

"i'd like you to take me to see this festival in person."

he had to decline at first- he had a duty to fulfil, after all- but you demand, you implore, you even beg in order to get him on board.

he was willing to do so the very first time you mention it, the gleam in his eye giving his true intentions away, but he plays along, getting a kick out of the desperation in your voice. you whine about how you are the princess and it's his job to do what you ask- and he laughs, throwing his hands up in mock defeat with an obliging "as you wish, your highness."

and thus begins your daring expedition to sneak out of the castle and back in completely undetected.

it's an operation carried out under the guise of night, the pair of you in cloaks and dressed inconspicuously. it's a simple plan, too. the gardens below your bedchamber's window is not a commonly patrolled area, and it's laughably easy for gojo to slip out of the window first and jump down the few metres until he lands on grass. he lands like it's nothing, smiling back up at you and motioning for you to join him.

it's a leap of faith, the crossing of a boundary as you swing your leg over the windowsill, feeling the fear kick in as you see just how high up you are. but you see gojo, too, his bright hair and eyes looking up at you encouragingly, and you swallow that fear.

"i'll catch you," he promises.

and he does. it's a soft landing, all things considered, as you land in his arms that are deceptively solid beneath you. you yelp as you fall- it couldn't be helped- but it's short-lived as you find yourself face to face with satoru.

he seems as equally stunned as you at the proximity of your faces, but the moment passes quickly for him, his signature practised grin coming back on to his face as he gently touches your feet to the ground.

"good to go, princess?" you nod, still reeling. he offers you an arm, half-joking, and you take it with a pleased smile.

gojo knows the castle grounds like the back of his hand- leading you to a concealed door in the outer wall, slipping through it like a shadow with you in tow. it wasn't until now that you saw him in his element, not sitting around like a lazy cat like he so often did in your presence.

he's more alert, alive, lithe body moving with purpose. it's nice to see him like this, without all of the bulky armour and constraints of the castle walls. the tension leaves him, his gait changing, and you feel the adrenaline course through your veins as the two of you officially make it outside of the castle.

you try to memorise every step you take, the way the ground feels against your shoes, the feeling of the breeze rushing unfiltered against your face. it's surreal, this taste of freedom, and you feel the urge to laugh like a maniac.

your hand slips from its grasp of gojo's bicep, letting you drift away from your knight in favour of pausing to squat down and inspect the brightly coloured flowers that grew on the path.

it was a mere tulip- nothing that you had ever seen before, the castle favouring more exotic species to showcase than some simple thing that you could pluck from the ground. but it was beautiful, all the same.

you felt gojo pause, letting you have your moment uninterrupted before you stand, beaming up at him.

"the outside world is very beautiful."

"indeed it is, princess. just wait until you see the lanterns up close."

it wasn't too far to reach his hometown, so he said. it was a comfortable walk, the terrain not too demanding. and finally, with the last stretch of land, you saw it.

"oh, wow."

if anything, satoru didn't do it justice in his stories. there's another element that you had never anticipated, of the music coursing throughout the town, breathing life into the people. everything was so much more colourful, more beautiful up close.

the closer you approach it, the more it comes into focus, and you don't try to hide your awe as you take in the surroundings. you don't turn your head to see the way your knight is smiling down at you, a soft look in his eyes.

and while it may make his job a pain sometimes, satoru's thankful that you're so oblivious to his surroundings and the ways he pines after you gone unnoticed. he had never exposed this part of himself before, the small nostalgic part of him that treasured unblemished memories of his childhood, now walking arm in arm with a princess and pointing out each little nook and cranny that he used to play in.

the pair of you finally make it to the inner part of the festivities, where there are countless stalls set up with all kinds of goods being sold. satoru stands back, letting you pour over each individual item, oohing and aahing as the vendors explain what they are.

you do this for... quite some time, until you settle upon a small jewellery stand. it was nothing like you had ever seen worn by nobles, fashioned out of colourful stones and leather cord instead of the gold and silver inlaid with precious gems. it intrigued you, the beautiful polished stone somehow being the most elegant thing you had ever laid eyes upon. and like a bloodhound, the lady running the stall sidled up to you and satoru.

"and for the beautiful couple, what can i interest you in?"

"oh, we-" you laugh, all pitchy as you get flustered, but satoru takes this in stride, simply wrapping his waist around you and pulling you closer together. he always had been one to toe the line.

"i think that my darling here had her eye on that necklace." he nods towards the very one that had caught your attention, you glancing at him in surprise, unaware that he even noticed such details. he merely winked in return as the lady beamed, taking it off its hook and holding it out to you.

"a fine choice, indeed! the rose quartz is said to bring luck to you in all romantic endeavours." you blush as you accept the necklace, satoru paying for it before you could get a single word in. he waved off any protests, merely taking the necklace from your hands before lifting it to fit around your neck.

his fingers brush against the soft skin at your nape, a little shiver rippling from it as he moved your hair onto one of your shoulders, out of the way of the cord.

"it looks beautiful on you." you try not to read into the sincerity emanating from his gaze, bowing your head graciously from the compliment before looping an arm around his, letting satoru guide you through the rest of the village.

you ended up in the main square, watching as some officials released the lanterns, how each one floated upwards until they became pinpricks in the sky. your gaze drifted towards the castle looming, and you felt some heaviness return to your heart.

the night had to come to an end, after all.

satoru sensed your shift in mood, offering a sympathetic smile before the pair of you trudged back, retracing your steps to return to your chambers without getting caught.

for a few minutes, before you properly laid down to rest, you caught yourself toying with the necklace, unable to stop the grin that spread across your face as you thought of the magical night with satoru, and his unseen side.

and as you woke up the next morning, the events of the past few hours were hard to see as more than a dream. but as you rise, you gaze at your reflection in the vanity next to your bed again, and you see the cord of the necklace still peeking out past the neckline of your nightgown.

there's a knock on your door, too, and you see your knight's face peek from around the corner.

"good morning, satoru."

"good morning, princess. did you sleep well?" there's a practised formality in his tone, but you don't miss his expression, the smile that threatens to slip onto his face.

it'll be a secret between just the two of you.

CHOSO KAMO ⌇ there wasn't a single doubt in your mind that this man wouldn't put his life on the line for you

however, it wasn't so certain from the start. when you were first introduced to choso, he was polite. he looked you in the eyes, kneeled to you, pledged his allegiance, but what struck you most was the anger that his gaze met you with.

it was like being scalded, making you shrink back from the sheer intensity. you couldn't get a read off of him apart from that cool anger, one that you weren't even sure was directed at you or not.

it was only through gossip overheard by the maidservants that you learnt of his prospects before being appointed as your bodyguard.

the most promising of his rank, on course to become the youngest commander in the military in the past century. he would have been set for life, the salary enough to support his entire family- yet he's now responsible for babysitting a spoilt princess.

it's what they had said, after all.

and the more you thought about it, the more awful you felt. you understand now why he looked at you like that, that pointed gaze with all its burning intensity. why he looked like he would rather be anywhere else within the castle than at your side.

it's improper to assume responsibility for anything as a member of the royal family, but you do so anyway and apologise to him one night- borderline tearful, your emotions besting you as you finally cave in and tell him about how you think he hates you.

and he stops you mid-sentence, confusion written across all of his features.

"milady... i'm afraid you've got it all wrong."

it was an awkward conversation, to say the least. you had never really been exposed to someone like him before- to have such a rigid sense of duty and seriousness that it translated as hatred was unheard of, even for the castle.

and despite this revelation, choso's stiff upper lip did not waver. his intertwined sense of duty was a tricky thing to peel away from him.

but it's a task that you were willing to commit to. you'd be spending a lot more time with him, after all, and you'd much rather get to know choso as a person if that was the case.

and so began your futile efforts of breaking down choso's barriers. you felt like a petulant child, always asking him questions that he would either blank or answer with an occasional grunt.

you were glad that news travels fast within the castle- any gossip about the princess' handsome new knight was a snippet of information that you hung onto eagerly.

it appears that you weren't alone in harbouring an interest in the young knight- if the excited chattering of maidservants and the way that they squealed over every interaction with him was any indicator.

for some reason, hearing them gush over the way his muscles looked when he was practising swordfighting in the barracks, or how strong he was when he helped carry in heavy sacks of grain rubbed you the wrong way. it lit a fire underneath you that made you all the more eager to get to know him well and truly before anybody else did.

you seemed to have struck gold about sir choso when you overheard one maidservant admit to having grown up in the same village as him- how she remembered that his family used to own a horse that him and his brothers loved more than anything else when growing up.

amidst the oohs and aahs of this revelation, a plan started to hatch in your mind. one that came into fruition the very next day as choso accompanied you on your morning walk around the royal gardens.

"say, choso, have you ever ridden a horse before?"

out of all of the questions and hints about him that you've posed, you've never seen such a reaction from him before. he starts, and out of the corner of your eye you see him almost puff up with excitement, and your ears strain, eager to hear what he has to say before you see him school his features once again, and the moment is bitterly over.

"it was part of my training to become a knight, milady. why do you ask?"

it was no matter if he didn't want to open up yet, you can be patient. and spend a little longer playing dumb about just how much you know about him.

"well, i was thinking of doing something slightly different today." he raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue. "i wanted to go horse-riding." he pauses for a good few seconds, ever so stoic, before nodding his head in acknowledgement.

"as you wish, milady."

you clap your hands togeher excitedly, beaming up at him.

"perfect!"

you set off in the direction of the stables, your knight following closely behind you, and dare you say with a slightest improvement in the upbeat of his gait. despite all of his professionalism, he still had his tells.

the smell of fresh hay and the less pleasant odour of manure reaches your nostrils before you can properly see the horses, but you let your nose wrinkle in displeasure and resolutely keep marching onwards to the stable entrance. you had a purpose to fulfil by being here, after all.

now, as a princess, it was imperative that you had acquired several different skills as part of your royal upbringing. how to eat properly, how to speak properly, act properly, including when riding a horse.

but, try as you might, you just couldn't quite manage to get a proper grasp on that last part. but, if it meant getting to know choso, you'd simply grin and bear it and hope to god that it didn't buck you off directly into a patch of mud.

the horses can smell your fear, you had been told as a child. even the stubbiest pony accustomed to your eight-year-old self's stature still towered above you, nostrils flared and rubbery lips dripping with saliva, making you hide behind the legs of your tutors as you cowered away from such a ferocious beast.

such childlike fears seemed to resurface now, as the snort of a nearby horse makes you twitch, visibly enough that it doesn't go unnoticed.

"are you alright, milady?" he's eyeing you sideways now, having caught up with your stride with his much longer one. you wonder just how eager he must be to ride a horse that it would warrant him breaking his usual pattern of tracing your footsteps and now meeting them with his own as the pair of you walk.

the thought brings a pang of guilt to accompany it, so you plaster on a smile and nod at him brightly.

"of course i am! it just caught me off guard, is all. not to worry, i'll have two horses be arranged for us."

you look at the nearest stable hand expectantly, and the young boy seems to comprehend your message as he dashes off to affix saddles and leashes to two fine stallions, befitting of royalty, to ride. you don't miss the doubtful look choso still gives you out of the corner of your eye.

it's better than focusing on the huffs and snorts of the beast before you as it's brought forwards, close enough for its putrid breath to curl in warm tendrils against your face. you feel your skin shrivel at the sensation.

but being a princess means putting on a brave face, and to never crumble in the face of adversity.

you march over to see the stirrup, level with your chest, inviting you to step up and onto the horse's back. it's funny, all these years later you would have dwarfed that little pony, so now they've brought an even larger horse to maintain order.

you can feel your heart hammering in your chest as you approach it, and you think that the horse can feel it too, because it snorts, twisting its head, the stable hand sounding panicked as the rope is prised from his grasp by the powerful strain from the stallion.

and then there's those painstaking moments, of the horse bucking and neighing, free now, and you really regret not providing more foresight into this plan.

how exactly will you get to know choso more if you've been trampled to death before he opens his mouth again?

you think this is the end of your short and silly life, if not for the hand that shoots out, grabbing the reins, another smoothing over the horse's snout. you watch in awe as your knight, your personal bodyguard, does just that and saves you from what would have been an imminent and painful death.

and like some horse whisperer, the stallion was now rendered meek and docile, following where it was led as choso turned to you, expression impassive as always.

"are you scared of horses milady?"

how foolish of you to think you wouldn't be all these years later. there's no use lying, and you dejectedly nod at his question. a beat of silence, before confusion graces his features.

"then why decide to go riding today?"

"because i heard that you like horses..."

it sounds so truly pathetic coming out of your mouth, but your heart still skips a beat as you see an entirely new expression on his face. a smile, one that he bites back as he looks off to the side, shaking his head in disbelief.

and then he looks back at you, really looks at you, with that coldness in his eyes parting like clouds to give way to something softer, warmer.

"allow me to help you then, your highness."

you give him a shy little nod at his proposition, and choso turns to the tearfully apologetic stable hand, signalling to him to return the other horse. you're confused as he approaches you, horse in tow, and you eye the animal with suspicion as it meets you face to face.

"the first thing about any animal is to establish a connection with it, milady." choso speaks so softly, voice barely above a whisper, and you watch in amazement as the horse's ears prick up, as if hanging on every word that he says alongside yourself.

"you've got to talk to it, introduce yourself." he motions for you to try, and your eyes flick back to the horse.

"hello, horse," you whisper to it. you feel like an idiot, but choso's nod of encouragement and second rare smile convince you to keep going. "it's nice to meet you."

it seems to have turned its attention towards you now, its nose snuffling at you, and you rear back a little.

"it's okay, milady, he just wants to smell you."

you look at choso again, expression doubtful, and he holds his hand outstretched, prompting you to place your palm in his.

he's warm, deliciously so, a decisive strength resting behind each finger as he guides your dainty hand towards the maw of the beast. its nostrils flare, snuffling against your hand, and you giggle girlishly at the odd sensation. choso's smiling now, no charade as he lets his joy shine through, matching yours.

"see? he likes you, your highness."

the pair of you stay like that for a few minutes, tentatively stroking the horse, until you feel comfortable enough to suggest riding them. choso nods, a flicker of responsibilty taking over his expressions as he guides you towards the saddle.

you're uncertain all over again, for different reasons now, as the distance required to get your foot in the stirrup seemed a little too high to achieve. and then choso's behind you, a hushed "may i?" whispered into your ear as his fingers curl at your waist.

you're flustered now, nodding all the same, gasping at how easily he lifts you until your feet dangle adjacent to the sturrup, and you let yourself slip a foot into it and swing the rest of yourself up and over to be seated on the horse.

you peer down at choso, desperately trying to ignore the fact that his head was directly next to your lap. it was absurd- you were the one riding atop a horse as he remained on the ground, you were the one of royal descent- yet in this very moment you were entirely at his mercy.

you clear your throat, nodding to him.

"if there aren't any more horses, how are you going to ride one?" and now he smirks at you, as if it's the most obvious answer in the world.

"well, if you're so scared of horses, i thought that i'd continue to help you get over that fear."

the penny doesn't drop until he places his foot in the very same stirrup that you had used to hoist yourself up, doing the same in an admittedly much more fluid motion, and positing himself flush against your back.

if it weren't for the light armour he wore, you were certain that he would be able to feel the way your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

you look down to your lap, watching as his arms reach forwards, practically embracing you, before his hands take a willful grip of the leather reins.

"how does that sound, milady?" he's practically purring into your ear, and he must know the effect he's having on you, if not before then definitely now as you sharply inhale, feeling the hairs on the back of your neck prickle at the slight sensation of his breath.

you don't even trust yourself to speak eloquently without making a fool of yourself, so you nod instead. the message is not lost on choso, and he chuckles right into your ear before starting to guide the horse as easily as breathing.

the animal lurched forwards, and your hands shot out, instinctively latching onto the nearest solid thing. whether they were your knight's hands or not wasn't important. but choso took this in stride, guiding your hands to take hold of the reins, and then encapsulating them with his own.

it sent a little thrill jolting through your spine, especially as he shuffles even closer to you, just to make sure that he could see properly.

your plan was working brilliantly after all.

and for all the trouble it took to situate yourself on the horse, your initial fears melted away in the presence of choso, as he spurred the horse to start a slow walk out of the stables, and onto the vast grounds surrounding the palace.

and as you gaze back to catch a glimpse of your knight, catching the way he smiles down at you so freely, faces a breadth apart, you realise that your fates are well and truly intertwined together.

➤ IF YOU LIKED THIS, TRY ... there's no release, i feel you in my dreams

(i don't have any other jjk fics FOR NOW ㅜㅡㅜ) best friend!aventurine x reader

➤ alternatively, you can find my jjk masterlist here!

[bruhstation]

steam team's seniors during their baby years

A friend group so weird and toxic to people they dislike it could rival It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia’s. They're not immune to the "I came to Sodor to avoid my problems and wanted a fresh start" trope many Sudrians also follow

Edward Pettigrew

Age: 31 as of 1984

A kind, friendly NWR railwayman who didn’t mind a lot of things and was popular amongst younger folks for his looks and demeanor. He likes showing newbies the ropes of the NWR and Sodor as a whole because he just loves infodumping. Despite being made fun of by some railwaymen for his “weirdness”, Edward worked hard and was known as the jack-of-all-trades by his peers, usually treating younger and newer railwaymen to drinks after work to get them accustomed to Sodor (he did this to Henry, then Gordon, then James). Originally from the village of Pezë in Tirana, Albania, 1940s. Due to his beginnings in a small rural village and the Albanian government’s censorship of outside influences and heavy restriction of traveling outside the country, Edward’s hunger for knowledge about the world grew more and more. His family had connections to the Lëvizja Nacional-Çlirimtare and Edward’s particularly bright and good at talking, so he became a diplomat to travel outside Albania – a step into his plans of learning more about the world. After landing himself in the United Kingdom and studying everything he wanted, he believes it’s still not enough. He found out about an island infamous for its supernatural occurrences and cases of people missing just off the coast of the UK – Sodor. Being the curious man he is, he discarded everything that’s needed for the LNÇ to locate him and landed on Sodor, gorging himself with every mystery the island has to offer. Impulsive? Yes. But for the first time, Edward felt true freedom. However, Edward got too curious and nosy and became a casualty in an accident fueled by supernatural hysteria related to Lady of the Legend and was transported around 40 years into the future, landing in 1983 with his memories all over the place. Despite losing his sense of self and having no idea what he is, his thirst for knowledge still lives on inside his head. His cheerfulness, amicability, and kindness are extensions he formed to make up for the hole inside his heart. Edward does love his friends, but he believes that if he can withhold information from them and make them all live in blissful ignorance, they can be truly happy – this all stems from his fear of exceeding his limits and being discarded (which he later copes by being a typical wise friendly old man in 1999). He often sees visages of Lady in his dreams.

Gordon J. Gresley

Age: 26 as of 1984

Joined after Henry. Looked like he was fresh out of a funeral. A young hotshot who was more polite, quiet, and reserved compared to his 1999 counterpart. Gordon started out as an apprentice fireman for the Wild Nor’Wester’s previous driver. He treated his arrival on Sodor as a desperate last resort to escape his issues and grief and pitifully believed he was “lumped with the social pariahs in the boonies”, but he’s gotten better and believed that this is where he can truly outshine everyone, much to the annoyance and chagrin of his seniors. Gordon acts like he knows what he’s doing in order to build up his image as someone who’s dependable and strong and revels in small basks of limelight. However, he was constantly uncomfortable with how Edward treated accidents as normal due to their survivors being in tip-top shape the next day and how Henry is so distrustful of and odd about everything and everyone and sweats 24/7, but he’s been masking and convincing himself that he’s not like the rest of them. He’s normal. He’s normal! Let’s all hold hands. Don’t be fooled by his sad face. Young Gordon can be arrogant and think he knows everything for being a youngin.

Henry Stanier

Age: 27 as of 1984

Joined after Edward, so he’s quite close to him. Gordon’s “senior” by 6 months. He’s always, ALWAYS scared endlessly about anything “out of the ordinary” and beats himself up over it, much to his own disgust. Henry had a deep rooted hatred and jealousy towards his peers for pitying him after a coworker revealed to other railwaymen that he’s narcoleptic without his permission. He’s been masking his disabilities despite it being detrimental for his well-being, but as long as people treated him “normally”, Henry would endure (dreadfully). He did this especially with Gordon, the newest addition to the Northwestern Railway at the time, because he didn’t want anyone else to treat him differently when they find out about his health issues. As an extention, Henry developed a vitriol towards Gordon too – he’s particularly jealous about how he’s so “ungrateful” of everything’s given to him like his fair looks, clothes, and position as the to-be face of the Wild Nor’Wester. They did become friends though despite the process not being easy. It’s okay. They became besties that were mean to old nosy folks. Initially wanted to pursue arts, but due to circumstances from his past related to his health and paranoia fueled by his past failures and “jinxes”, he came to Sodor as a half-hearted last resort to get a job. He wasn’t hopeful of having anyone respect him for who he is, but things do get better, much to his surprise.

James A. Hughes

Age: 25 as of 1989

Joined the NWR 5 years after Edward did. At that point, Gordon already discarded his GNR Green look and went for the blue attire (minus the big coat). Flaunts his beauty almost at any given time, especially when someone mildly complimented him. He’s more of a nerd (word used loosely because he acts like a know-it-all when he actually has no idea what he’s doing) compared to his canon, 1999 counterpart. James came to Sodor for a fresh start and believed he deserves more than what he’s given. He thinks he’s so tough and hard as nails – in fact it became his source of hubris because he gets into accidents and was scolded by his seniors for being so vain and stubborn. He doesn’t want to get dirty, he doesn’t want to shovel coal, he doesn’t want to get wet from the washdown suds – he only wants the good out of the work and doesn’t want to accept the “bad” sides as well, so James was branded as the “problem kid” of the NWR by older folks. James, who can’t handle harsh criticism and labels well, grow even more distant with them. He primarily hangs out with the RWS trio because they seem to understand his situation and the feeling of being “outcasted” (despite Gordon’s annoyance at his boastfulness). 

[the-muppet-joker]

could you elaborate on your choices for the 4 horsemen for the ponies? i’m deeply curious about your wisdom and insight

Very well.

Famine = Luna

Both are black horses

When Nightmare Moon takes over, there is no sun. Crops cannot grow under these conditions. Her reign is a reign of famine and no harvest.

Additionally, in the episode Cutie Re-Mark, it is shown that under Nightmare Moon's domain, Timberwolves roam free. While they are not directly tied to famine, they have symbolism regarding Harvest as they are known to howl at the first zap apple and attack those who try to harvest them if they are nearby, hindering people's ability to gather fruit.

War = Cadance

Naturally, a pony red with the blood of those slain in war is generally not marketable to little girls, who are unfamiliar with bloodlust and afraid of violence. They settled for a close second: pink.

She is the princess of love. Are you familiar with the phrase "all is fair in love and war?" Wars are acts of passion and bloodshed. Passion? Blood? Both symbolically related to the Heart. And what is her cutie mark as well as the sacred object that gives power to her kingdom? The Crystal Heart.

The Crystal Kingdom, Cadance's kingdom, is frequently under threat of was throughout the series. Queen Crysalis and the Changelings. Sombra. Again, in the episode Cutie Re-Mark, we see a timeline im which Sombra had won. And what is the state of Equestria? A mirror fucking image of how other countries in real life are affected by war. We literally have soldiers Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash and we see Apple Jack working tirelessly to ship out apple mush to feed soldiers for the war effort. This parallel is so clear and frankly I could go on.

Conquest = Celestia

Yes I know the image says strife. I wanted the pictures to be in a consistant style and they used the word strife but it says conquest in the Bible. Anyways, they are both white horses.

I mean. Do I need to spell it out? Celestia is an imperialist. She spreads her and her nation's influence and ideology as far as she is able. Cadance is installed as the leader of the Crystal Empire under her direction. They have conflict with the changelings, so they promote a leader more sympathetic to their nation. The school of friendship? Teaching other species the way to act and behave? Are non-ponies unfamiliar with friendship? Propoganda. And she is the Princess of the Sun. THE SUN. NEVER. SETS. ON. EQUESTRIA'S. EMPIRE. Sound familiar?

Do not make an enemy of Celestia or you will be punished and then brainwashed into submission. Luna? The moon. Discord? Stone. Sombra? Tirek? The list goes on. Again, I feel this is a clear parallel that needs little explanation.

Death = Twilight Sparkle

Indeed this is the most subtle connection. After all, she is not even close to the right color. She is purple! No relation to death whatsoever........ right? WRONG. In the Catholic faith, the calandar is divided into different seasons with associated colors. Purple is the color of death and mourning; priests will exclusively wear purple robes for mass during Lent to symbolize Christ's suffering and death on the cross.

Twilight has a very important role as she and her friends are the bearers of the elements of harmony, with Twilight in the lead. The power of this clearly escalates throughout the series, as the mane six progress from turning Discord to stone to completely destroying Sombra after he is initially resurrected. We watch them become a force that could take away anyone's life force, Twilight especially. And let's not forget the form the elements later take. The tree of harmony. Reminiscent of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, from which humanity committed its first sin and thus were kicked out of Eden, gaining the ability to die.

Twilight will outlive all of her friends. As an allicorn, she is immortal. We see in the last episode that she is in her prime while all of her friends are elderly. How can one be a Princess of Friendship if she sees all her friends to the ends of their lives like a benevolent Reaper? After so many years of standing at the deathbeds of loved ones, she will feel detatched from others. A Princess of Death.

And yes Flurryheart is the fifth Princess but she is a clear allagory for the Antichrist so I did not include her

[discopaddock]

LIAR - FELIX CATTON

PAIRING: felix catton x fem!reader

GENRE: angst, pure angst

WORDS: 1,3k

WARNINGS: death (only mentioned), heartbroken reader, abuse, alcoholism, lies, felix is stupid, toxic relationship, ENGLISH ISN'T MY FIRST LANGUAGE SO SORRY FOR ABY MISTAKES.

Felix never understood why she never said anything about her father. He asked about him many times, but she always found a way to change a topic or acted like she didn't hear his question.

“I just don't wanna talk about it, Felix” she said as they were driving to her family house.

The girl saw that something was odd with her best friend, since he came back with Oliver from Liverpool the previous day.

“Why?” he pushed, but didn't answer for a longer moment.

“Ask my mum about it” she said finally, when he parked at the driveway. The girl didn't wait for him and left the car to open the door and step in. Felix locked the car and ran after her to see her hugging a woman, whom she looked alike.

“Hello” he said awkwardly standing in front of them.

“Ah, mama! This is Felix, been telling you about him” she announced and grabbed him by hand, so he stepped close to them.

“Nice to meet you, young man, I've heard plenty of stories about you” the woman said, smiling at him.

“Nice to meet you too” he replied and grabbed her for a hug.

“Go to the living room, kids, I'll make the tea” her mother announced and the girl took Felix to the room.

“Is that you?” he asked, pointing at the photo on the shelf, next to the books.

“Oh, yeah, it's little her” the woman said, as she entered the room. “This was taken at her first music competition” she added, making her daughter red. “She won it, I'm still so proud of her.”

“You didn't tell me you were taking part in competitions?” Felix turned around to his friend.

“You never asked,” she answered and stood up from the couch. “Then we were karting with girls” she said, while showing the photo of her at the karting track next to a kart.

“Oh, and this one is from the Grand Prix two years ago, when you were a marshall,” her mother cooed, pointing at another photo.

“I told you about that,” the girl reminded Felix, making him laugh. Yes, she had told him about it one time. “Come on, I'll show you around” she said and grabbed him by hand and took him upstairs.

“Your room?” he asked, watching her open the door.

“Yeah, welcome to my kingdom” she said and let him in.

“Yeah, it's definitely your room,” Felix laughed. He could see that she was the owner of it. The books that she's been telling him about, the film posters she told him she had watched, the Formula 1 related things - everything that was in that room was her.

“What happened yesterday?” the girl asked, when they were lying on her bed for a while. The bed was small, 90x200 centimeters and his legs were sticking out of it. He found this funny and was laughing until she asked.

“He's a, um” he started, not sure if he wanted her to know that. But she never lied to him, right? She wouldn't do that like Oliver did. She would never. “He lied to me. To all of us” he said finally.

The girl looked at Felix, not understanding what he meant. She saw how they were treating each other the previous day, but she didn't ask since he came to her room and started kissing her, banning her and himself from talking till breakfast.

“What has he done?” she asked and raised her head. She was worried about him. He was her best friend, her other half and she was really jealous of Oliver for the whole time, which Farleigh found hilarious and was making jokes about it to Felix when she wasn't around. And Farleigh liked her more, if he had to choose between her and Oliver who was better for his cousin, he would choose her without hesitation. She was normal in his opinion, not a liar like Oliver.

The girl loved Felix. She gave him her whole heart. But he didn't see it. His heart didn't belong to her, but her heart belonged to him. And it hurt her a lot.

She tried to leave him, for her own good, but she couldn't. He was so magnetic, so majestic that she just couldn't leave him.

Farleigh and her own friends saw how she felt and how Felix was blind about it. Farleigh tried, he really tried to do something but his cousin was as if he didn't have eyes and couldn't see anything about her.

Farleigh told her he felt sorry for her and that she should really leave him for her own good and that he knew it was hard, but she still couldn't. And Farleigh saw it.

Gosh, she spent the whole vacation with him and Venetia because Felix was always with Oliver and he seemed like she wasn't there until yesterday. She was his second choice and she knew it.

So she decided that it would be her last try to cut contact with him. For her own good.

“Felix, I'm not coming back to Saltburn with you” she announced, when he stopped talking about that liar.

He was shocked. Why would she say that? What has gone wrong?

“What? No, no, no, you're coming back” he replied, feeling betrayed.

“Mama said that the great-grandma is feeling worse and worse, Felix, I can't be not around her” she said the half of the truth. This was one of the two reasons she wanted to stay at home. “I can't do that to her,” she mumbled, tears forming in her eyes.

He would understand, right?

“I can drive you at any time here, I promise, just come back with me” he assured her and grabbed her face in his hands gently. “You can just leave me,” he said, looking into her eyes.

“Felix, you don't understand” she shook her head, as he made everything about himself. “I can't leave her now, I don't know how much time she has left,” she added. “You should stay for tonight and go back home tomorrow, it's getting dark” she said and he only agreed.

He didn't want to leave her, especially now.

During the night, Felix was walking through the house and looking for the water. He stood in the kitchen and saw his friend’s mother looking for something in the cabinet.

“Good evening” he mumbled and she answered. He got the water and stood for a moment. He had a battle inside if he should ask about that. And his curiosity won, so he asked: “I'm sorry for being rude, but anytime I asked your daughter about the father she never answered and recently she told me to ask you about him, so could you tell me something?”

“Oh, he was, let's say, not a good person” the woman started and sat on the chair. “I completely understand why she doesn't want to talk about him. She has some kind of trauma and she used to go to therapy, when she was younger” at these words he furrowed his brow. “He was an alcoholic and violent towards us, so you know” she stopped talking, not knowing what to add more. “Oh, and when he died it really hit her, even though she didn't talk with him for years.”

“I'm so sorry you had to go through this,” he said and wanted to hug the woman. He would never have thought that something like this happened to his best friend.

“It's okay now, young man, don't worry” she said and hugged him. “She's doing great,” she assured him.

He felt so stupid. He was such a dick for her sometimes.

Now he wanted only to make it up to her.

So when he was leaving he promised the girl that he was going to do everything for her, because she deserved it.

But he broke the promise. He never had done that, because he died and left her alone, without making anything up to her.

He was such a liar.

masterlist

[calisources]

𝐑𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐋, 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐒.

All sentences on this meme have been taking from different media and sources. They all touch on the topics of romance, difficult and forbidden love, mostly setting in the political schemes of war and peace and royal court. Change names, locations and nouns and you see fit. Some lines might have foul language.

Sometimes we hurt the ones we love, but hurting ourselves to avoid it doesn’t make it better.

Could someone treat you badly and still love you? 

Even so, in the midst of this complicated love, there is a holy union.

Love is complicated. It’s sticky. It’s bliss and it’s a mix of emotions. It’s not easy.

I hated him now because I has loved him then.

 I'm not like you. I can't afford to be reckless.

When have I ever, since the first instant I touched you, pretended to be anything less than in love with you?

Are you so fucking self-absorbed as to think this is about you and whether or not I love you, rather than the fact I'm an heir to the fucking throne? 

You at least have the option to not choose a public life eventually, but I will live and die in these palaces and in this family.

She wears a crown that never should’ve been hers.

Your wish is my command, my queen.

You can always leave my service.

Don’t you see, Diana? If I did that, I’d break not one but two hearts. For I know you love me, though you haven’t said it yet.

You do know me. I love you so much, it sometimes terrifies me.

You are going to regret that, Your Magical Regalness.

Just because I am  a prince doesn’t make my life a fairy tale.

So kiss the others for all I care, but don’t hold back with me.

You are enough to drive a saint to madness or a king to his knees.

He didn't marry you to become king. He became king because he wanted to marry you.

I know I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king.

 I believe we are what we make ourselves, and as such, you, Crown Princess, are nothing.

You, what are you? The brat of lucky parents who were related to a childless king.

Rule with the heart of a servant. Serve with the heart of a king.

There’s a fine line between gossip and history, when one is talking about kings.

You can't treat royalty like people with normal perverted desires.

We kings do develop a certain ability to recognize objects under our noses.

...alone is such a nebulous state when one is queen.

I respect you as my king, and I respect you as my father, but I do not respect you as a man.

You're the most important person I've ever met.  And I should have never met you at all.

Desires are what can most easily ruin us, lovely.

I find that happiness can always be recollected in tranquillity, Ma’am.

It's almost impossible for those who have had an intimate relationship to return to a formal one.

I question if within you is any magic.

You’re my princess, right? You were always going to be my princess, no matter what you were born.

The king is a saint and cannot rule, and his son is a devil and should not.

For kings, the world is extremely simplified: All men are subjects.

A king deserves reverence when being addressed.

Yes, she had abused her title and station before, but for minor stuff, not to steal a warship.

You are a king worthy of their allegiance . . . with a queen full of fire and promise.

When God calls you into His Kingdom, your way of life will reflect royalty if you serve Him with loyalty.

My royal status is both a shield that protects me and a sword that impales my heart.

You know, for a pampered princess, you have a certain gift for violence.

I have to be seen to be believed.

Kings needn’t raise their voices to be heard.

That is your very own myth. The idea that how you are born or the name you are given dictate the sort of person you really are.

I know that names have power. That is why I cannot let her forget hers. 

You’ll have to face it, Princess. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon enough. And you can’t be this scared when the time comes.

A bad king revels in his importance. A good one hates his office. 

Crowns belong to those that serve.

She was their witch queen, and they adored her.

Beatrice is going to be queen someday.

Kings are only kings because one ancestor was quicker than another to place a crown on his own head.

Queen, do not allow a commoner to dethrone you. Own that throne. You are royalty.

A throne won in blood will soon be drenched in it.

My mother once told me that everything is fuelled by either money or sex, because both lead to power.

Even when she's dethroned by hardship, she still wears the sun as a crown.

She holds a nation’s fate within her shaking hands. She wears a crown that never should’ve been hers.

My reign has been anything but traditional. Let’s not start now, shall we?

Oh honey, someday a real man is going to make you see stars and you won't even be looking at the sky.

Every girl thinks about growing up in a palace. Few ever ponder living in a cage.

Climb up the family tree of any of them high enough and you’ll find a commoner who dared to take a chance.

Am I forbidden to do what all may do?

My arrival saved the kingdom, while his only reiterated that his blood would fill the throne one day.

Slow down there, princess. How do you know what kind of first impression you gave me?

So none of the young men we encountered during our season gave you hot pants for them?

If stubborness were all that was needed to be a good queen, I'd rule the world.

I’d decided that I was going to stop dressing like a princess and start dressing like a queen.

Don’t touch me. Don’t tell me how beautiful my eyes are, how soft my hair is, how you love to hear my voice. Don’t. Don’t pretend you are falling in love with me. 

I know you are lying, and every word you say hurts even more. 

Before the wedding, and the bedding, when I will have to take you as my lord and husband?

I may not be a king or a queen, but I'll be damned if I'm not treated like royalty.

He is fragile, like a prince of ice, of glass.

It is natural that men are going to gather round me, hoping for a smile.

Men only treat women like princesses when they want to use them like prostitutes.

You can smile when your heart is breaking because you're a woman.

I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't do anything but think about him.

Anyone can attract a man. The trick is to keep him.

To save my son, I would plot with the devil himself.

Only fools wait when their enemies are coming, to see if they may prove to be friends.

When a man wants a mystery, it is generally better to leave him mystified. Nobody loves a clever woman.

I wanted the heat and the sweat and the passion of a man that I could love and trust.

I am a fool to own it, but I am in a fever for your touch.

And you are the sort of mistress a man doesn't bother to marry. Sons or no sons.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Underworld Insomnia || 1 - B.Barnes

Character : Bucky × Psychiatrist Female!Reader

Summary: As a ruthless contract killer, Bucky is feared in the underworld of criminals. His opponents freeze when they see him, as he is feared among them. However, they don't know that he could be warm to only one person: his pshychiatrist. The only person who could make him fall asleep.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 ,-

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I'd love to hear your feedback. Thank you once again.

In the world of secret societies for underground criminals, there's a secret place for criminals to stay, a shop for criminals to buy their weapons, basically, criminals live like normal people but they can only go to places that are built for criminals.

That's the rule.

There's also a particular psychiatrist for criminals only. Since many of the criminals have demons in their minds.

For this job, Dr. Ben is the only person the criminals could go to and ask for advice and medicine so they could go to sleep. Most of them can sleep.

But the only person who has trouble is Bucky Barnes.

His name is enough to make everyone in the underworld shiver. His eyes are enough to make his opponents freeze.

Bucky is their answer if anyone wants a job done without any mistakes.

With the money from the job he finished, he could have a comfortable life for generations. But he doesn't need it because all he wants right now is to sleep.

"I tried what you told me. Work out until I'm tired, learn something new, clean all my weapons, upgrade my car, renovate my house with bulletproofing, sex," Bucky said while he lay on the couch, looking at the ceiling.

Dr. Ben kept writing while listening to his patient.

"I even went to pottery class, baking class, painting class, and sex," Bucky counted on his fingers.

"Still. Nothing works. I still can't sleep. It's been 7 years," Bucky said.

Dr. Ben, who kept writing, replied, "Yeah, you have mentioned sex multiple times."

"White noise, pink noise. In the end, I smashed the Bluetooth speaker. None of your methods work," Bucky said as he sat up and glared at Dr. Ben.

Dr. Ben adjusted his reading glasses. He remained calm, probably one of the few people not afraid even though Bucky was angry.

He clicked his pen and put the report on the table.

"Do you want to try reading fairy tale books?" Dr. Ben asked.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you joking with me?"

Dr. Ben replied, "Most of you people have a shitty childhood. Have shitty parents. Perhaps deep down, your kind wants something related to fulfilling your inner child."

Bucky exclaimed, "Woah, doctor, calm down. You're brutally honest here." He sighed, because he knew this method will failed like the rest. "Fine. I'll try." Then he lay back on the couch and closed his eyes.

Dr. Ben picked a children's book and started to read, he flipped through the pages, and began to read aloud, "Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a brave little mouse named Timothy."

"Timothy was no ordinary mouse," Dr. Ben continued, "for he possessed a heart as courageous as a lion and a determination that could move mountains."

"Stop. Stop. It's so weird listening to you. Get someone else," Bucky interrupted, feeling uncomfortable.

Dr. Ben closed the book. "I'll get my apprentice."

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "You've got a new one?" He knew that none of Dr. Ben's employees stayed that long, given the fear of criminals who kept coming for therapy.

Dr. Ben adjusted his glasses. "She could tame Bruce Banner; I think she could do the same to you."

Bucky rolled his eyes. "Fine."

Dr. Ben got up from his seat and opened his office door. "Y/N, help me for a bit," he called out.

Bucky heard a melodious voice respond, "Yes?"

The door swung open, revealing a woman with a confident stride and a calm demeanor. She had striking eyes that seemed to hold a depth of understanding, framed by a cascade of dark hair that fell gracefully around her shoulders.

Her posture exuded poise and assurance, hinting at a quiet strength within. She carried herself in professional attire with an air of authority, yet there was warmth in her expression as she met Bucky's gaze.

As you approach your boss, he suddenly puts a children's book in your hand.

You look at him, puzzled. "Huh?"

Dr. Ben pointed at Bucky and explained, "This person can't sleep for years. So I want to see if reading a children's story could make him fall asleep."

Bucky huffs in frustration. As a top assassin in the underworld, it's humiliating if he can only fall asleep with a children's book. "Just do it."

You flinch, knowing the man in front of you is dangerous.

Dr. Ben pats your shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, he's just cranky. I'll be here too. I need to see if it's working or not."

"Okay," you respond, then sit in the chair near Bucky's couch.

Before opening the book, you can't help but notice the tattoos on his neck and hands.

"Are you done staring?" Bucky asks, irritation evident in his voice.

"Oh, right, I'm sorry," you apologize quickly. "I'll start reading. Once upon a time, in a faraway kingdom, there lived a brave little mouse named Timothy. Timothy was no ordinary mouse, for he possessed a heart as courageous as a lion and a determination that could move mountains."

As you continue reading, Bucky listens intently, his eyes focused on the ceiling as he tries to relax.

"Despite his small size," you continue, "Timothy dreamed of embarking on great adventures and proving himself to be the bravest mouse in all the land."

Bucky's tense expression begins to soften slightly as he listens to the soothing cadence of your voice.

"One day," you narrate, "a fierce dragon threatened the kingdom, causing panic among the inhabitants. But Timothy, undeterred by the danger, volunteered to confront the dragon and save his home."

Bucky's breathing starts to slow down as he gets engrossed in the tale, his earlier restlessness fading away.

"With unwavering courage," you go on, "Timothy faced the dragon, armed only with his wits and determination. And through his bravery and quick thinking, he managed to outsmart the fearsome beast and bring peace back to the kingdom."

As you reach the end of the story, Bucky's eyes grow heavy, and he finally begins to drift off to sleep, a sense of calm settling over him.

Dr. Ben watches silently, nodding in approval as he sees the story's effect on Bucky. It seems that, perhaps, there is power in the simplest of tales to soothe even the most troubled minds.

Bucky's eyes felt heavy. The childish story and your calm voice made him feel relaxed. Your voice seemed more effective than white noise in soothing his troubled mind. As he listened, the tension in his muscles gradually melted away, replaced by a sense of peace and tranquility.

Then Bucky opened his eyes, only to realize he wasn't in the same place in Dr. Ben's office anymore. He found himself on a bed inside an unknown room. Panic surged through him.

Had he been kidnapped?

It would bring shame to his name as the feared killer if true.

As he processed his surroundings, Bucky's hand instinctively went for his knife, ready to defend himself. But soon, he recognized the familiar surroundings of Dr. Ben's building. Relief washed over him, though he remained on edge.

A door creaked open, causing Bucky to tense, his grip tightening on the knife. But to his surprise, it was just Dr. Ben.

"Did you have a good sleep?" Dr. Ben asked calmly.

Bucky clicked his tongue in annoyance and massaged his shoulder. "No. Your methods didn't work. I'm still tired."

"Well, that's natural since you've been asleep for three days," Dr. Ben replied matter-of-factly.

Three days?!

He can't believe it, since he has only been able to sleep for one hour each night for the past seven years. Bucky's eyes widened in disbelief as he checked his phone, seeing the date and numerous missed calls and unread messages.

"It worked?" he muttered, incredulous. He had been able to sleep and hadn't even realized it.

Bucky's amazement lingered as he realized that he had slept for three whole days without even being aware of it. It was a stark contrast to the years of insomnia he had endured, struggling to find even a moment of rest.

The tension that had plagued his body for so long began to ebb away, replaced by a newfound sense of calmness and clarity. He couldn't deny the relief that washed over him, knowing that perhaps, just perhaps, there was hope for him yet.

Then, there was a knock on the door. It was you.

"How is he, doctor? Is he still asleep?" you asked, but you gasped when Bucky's intense gaze met yours.

Was he angry? Did he blame you for making him sleep for three days?

"Y/N, is it?" Bucky inquired.

You responded groggily, "Yes?"

Bucky got on his knees, his right hand resting on his left chest and his left hand reaching for you. He looked at you earnestly and asked, "Will you work for me?"

You were taken aback, as was Dr. Ben. Bucky's unexpected gesture felt like it could lead to a significant misunderstanding, resembling a proposal rather than a job offer.

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Author Note:

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[star-rie]

a long rambling/idea/rant of how i want bbc merlin plot to go

Season 1

General: stays the same (light-hearted season) but merlin starts to question gaius and kilgharrah, empathizes with morgana. Elyan is introduced somewhere between episodes. Gwen father didn’t die. Mordred ISN’T introduced yet. Morgana is gaslighted by merlin + gaius (not forever i swear guys)

Finale: merlin vs nimueh (epic battle this time), merlin is almost close to loosing but gaius helps him, however nimueh survives

Season 2

General: introduction of mordred on the second ep (merlin hates him), ep 1 is abt balinor (mentor figure for merlin + should meet with hunnith), arthur finds out abt ygraine (and yes merlin lied abt it) + starts questioning uther, we got more arthur’s pov when merlin is at the ‘tavern’ (episodes where merlin is not there and focuses on arthur instead), morgana finds out abt her magic. Freya + gwen romance plotline happened. Percival + Gwaine introduction, merthur kiss but they never acknowledge it (yep they’re in denial)

Finale: kilgharrah lost hope of merlin so he turns to nimueh (in a hidden scene nimueh told arthur the truth abt his birth), nimueh + uther battle (but nimueh lost NOO), balinor DIES, merlin stops kilgharrah, glimpse of morgause (at the ep end). Morgana made a decision to kill uther

Season 3

General: aithusa is born (morgana + kilgharrah + merlin really likes her), morgana villain arc (she finds out that merlin is gatekeeping magic from her + merlin trying to kill mordred lmao), either morgwen romance or gwencelot (i can’t choose), gwen’s father died, this season = gwen’s arc

Finale: magic reveal, uther’s death, morgouse + morgana attacked the castle, morgana and morgouse fighting + breaking of to their own path (morgana realizes morgause is kind of twisted evil)

Season 4

General: arthur banning merlin from camelot (merlin runaway arc), arthur + gwen + the knights running the kingdom, morgana redemption arc, morgouse + aggravaine becomes main villain, political shit in camelot (like other kingdom who also despises sorcery/power manipulation, an in-depth look of other kingdoms), GAIUS DIES, hunnith + aithusa + kilgharrah scenes, mordred + merlin + morgana bonding, ygraine scenes, arthur trying to forget merlin but CANT, oh and aggravaine is also a villain here but he actually has personality and pure evil, arthur getting excalibur, arthur is really struggling to find himself here (to be like his father or follows his heart). Btw merlin is there and it shows every time magic related enemies attacks camelot/everytime arthur is about to die really but he’s literally in the shadows now and arthur pretends not to notice

Finale: morgause + aggravaine attacking the kingdom, arthur accepts + forgiving merlin + morgana back and assign them as court sorceress + court physician, hunnith scenes, arthur tolerating magic, adopting mordred (apology for killing his father lol), probably adopting aithusa

Season 5

General: arthur lifts the ban against magic, marrying merlin, cendred is a villain here (however he is introduced in s4), merlin GETTING A STAFF (also introduced in previous seasons but he’s worthy of it here, arthur made it btw and it’s a power up for melrin)

Finale: morgause + cendred finale attack, a few deaths (they won thoe cuz this is the good ending)

End:

Camelot brings a new era (symbolizing change)

Arthur: King

Merlin: consort/court dragonlord with titles like “king arthur’s shadow”

Gwen: Court Advisor/head of the house

Morgana: Court Sorceress

Aithusa: Court Dragon

Why i think merthur should be canon:

1) they’re gay

2) real reason: so i think its good for the plot too since magic is a euphemism for gay, relates to the theme of arthur bringing change to camelot but other than marrying a servant, he marries a MALE servant who has magic ☺️🫶😘🙏

Series ends with everyone at the roundtable, gathering for a meeting

Okay that’s it let me know what you want to change 🥰

[hyperactively-me]

king!ghost x reader -- the wedding

You hated your wedding dress.

As you stood there in front of the mirror, your heart sank at the sight of yourself drowning in ornate and thick fabric, embroidery, and jewelry.

The veil was long and thin yet adorned with embroidery, slightly obscuring your vision. The corset was too constricting against your figure. The train of the dress seemed to stretch for miles, making movement a cumbersome ordeal. A dainty tiara sits atop your head. It would soon be replaced by a bigger tiara, one more fit for a queen. Ghost’s queen.

You sit still as the maids apply make-up to your face and style your hair, leaving yourself to your thoughts. At this moment, there was no possible alternative for you but to face him at the altar. You had to utter falsehoods about your affection for him, til death do you part. You had to slip wedding rings onto each other’s fingers, symbols of connection and eternal love. Of course, the public had no idea of your true feelings towards their king. You had to hide behind this facade, this act, that you truly liked this man. You internally roll your eyes as the maids straighten out your dress and veil, adding final touches to your wedding outfit.

A quick knock rapped against the door and the head maid, who introduced herself, came in to help you slip on your shoes.

“It’s time to go out there. Do you have your vows ready?”

Unfortunately is what you really wanted to say, but you bite your tongue.

“Yes.”

“Good. Guests are arriving. Your family is here, your highness.”

You perk up a little at that statement, but you pretend not to care. You still hadn’t forgiven your parents, but you would be overjoyed to see your siblings.

“Diplomats and royalty from other kingdoms will be present,” the head maid continues. “They’re here to bear witness to his majesty’s wedding. They want to show their support of your union. It’s a great thing, your kingdom and Kastron creating peaceful relations. It provides more…stability and protection.”

You nod your head knowingly. You weren’t completely clueless. You knew Kastron has a history of starting battles and wars. You knew they always won. And you knew other territories, kingdoms, and rogue militias who tried to pick fights with Kastron always ended up defeated. Kastron also tended to fight unnecessary wars, burning down villages with no remorse. You supposed you had to keep track of all this, now that you were about to become the queen of Kastron. More recently, you had been thinking about asking Ghost for political lessons…

Which, speaking of, your thoughts begin to drift towards him. Where is he? What is he doing right now? What is he thinking? What is he wearing? Is he dreading this as much as I am?

You would find out soon enough.

Each passing minute brought you closer to the life with him that you didn’t want.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a gentle voice beckoning you. “It’s time to go, your highness.”

You nod, taking one last look at yourself in the mirror. You don’t recognize yourself. Yes, you look beautiful, but it’s not…you, per se. The wedding dress is just a facade, a wall of innocence to hide the fact that you’re marrying a murderer.

You turn, the motion causing the heavy fabric of your dress to brush against the floor. The head maid reaches behind your head, moving the veil in front of your face. She takes your hand, helping you move down the imposing wooden doors in front of you. Everyone from Kastron was in there, royalty from far away lands were in there, your family was in there, he was in there. All waiting for the blushing bride to be married to a killer.

The head maid quickly shoves your bouquet in your hands, and you grip onto the flowers like it’s a lifeline.

This was your reality.

On cue, the doors swing open, heads turn, and the orchestra plays the wedding march. It sounds like a death march to you. (speak now by taylor swift, anyone?)

You fix your gaze on the man you detested, waiting for you at the top of the altar. He was still wearing a stupid mask, his face covered. His body was adorned in the same black regalia he had worn when asking your parents for your hand in marriage. His cape flowed down his back, pooling at the stairs. An anxiety you’ve never experienced before swallowed you whole as you dragged your feet down the aisle, hundreds of eyes picking you apart.

Ghost was looking straight at you, his form unmoving as you approached him.

You had to force yourself to keep going, this time a little faster. You wanted to get this over with. The grip you held on your bouquet made the flowers quiver. God, the feeling of hundreds of scrutinizing eyes on your back made you want to throw up.

You were almost there. Almost there. You look down at the steps in front of you, climbing up to the altar, making sure not to trip on your trailing dress.

You wondered what he thought of you at this very moment. You wondered if he understood how truly scared you were to marry him, a killer, a creator of wars and bloodshed. You hoped you made him feel guilty.

You come to a stop on the top of the stairs, turning to face him. The music stops.

The wedding officiant starts speaking, talking about love, and this and that. It bores you half to death. Every last word he says is a drag.

“Now, for the vows.”

Oh God, the fun part.

You look down at his feet, trying to tune Ghost out as he talks about “steadfast loyalty,” “honor,” “privilege,” and “responsibility.” You want to scream at him to stop.

When he’s done, he looks at you expectantly. You just know that there’s a smirk under that stupid mask of his. You clear your throat, and begin to speak lies.

Meaningless, empty vows of how you would be “patient,” “honest,” “poised,” and “loyal.” The image of a perfect wife. The moment you concluded your words, your vows ceased to exist.

The officiate turned to grab the pillow holding your wedding rings, presenting them to you. He motions for you to grab Ghost’s wedding band. Your fingers tremble as you pick it up.

“I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness, and as I place it on your hand, I commit my very heart and soul to you,” you practically spit out, sliding the ring on his calloused hand.

You watch as Ghost grabs your ring, a rather large diamond sitting on the band. He grasps your hand gently in his own, and he repeats the same: “I give you this ring as a symbol of my love and faithfulness, and as I place it on your hand, I commit my very heart and soul to you,” slipping the ring onto your finger. He squeezes your hand gently before pulling away.

You had nearly forgotten about this part. The kiss. The final nail on the coffin.

He reaches towards your face, pulling your veil up and over your head gently. He stepped close to you, closer than ever before. You reach up to his own mask, pushing up the top to reveal his lips. He lets you, watching you intently. You wanted to rip the mask off his face, but something deep within you stopped yourself.

His hand comes around to the small of your back, pulling you right up against him. He angles his back to the crowd, allowing only you to see, suddenly pulling his mask higher and higher, until it completely slipped off his face.

God, he’s gorgeous.

He bends down to your height, breath tickling your skin. You try to memorize his face before he eventually covers it back up. He pulls you impossibly closer, his other hand coming up to press against your cheek as he kisses you deeply.

The breath is knocked from your lungs as his lips press against yours, hard.

He slowly pulls away after another beat, and surprisingly you find yourself not wanting it to end. He methodically pulls his mask back down, concealing his face once more. He turns back to face the crowd, hand not leaving the small of your back, now cheering loudly for the happy couple. His hand gently pushes you towards the crowd, beckoning you to move. You turn, putting on a shaky smile as you spot your family in the crowd.

Ghost pulls his hand from your back, extending the crook of his arm out for you to take. You clutch onto his arm like it’s a lifeline, wrapping your hand around his bicep.

The orchestra is deafening as you both make your way down the aisle as a couple. The double doors open and shut quickly behind you two, and you let out a shuddered gasp, pulling your hand away from his arm.

This is your life.

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[fairyhaos]

❍ the 2k event: junhui + castle

vote for this fic in the poll!

alternative title: you are my kingdom

pairing: crown prince!junhui x royalty!gn!reader

genre: historical royalty au, arranged marriage, strangers to lovers

word count: 1167

warnings: none

event taglist (send ask to be added): @slytherinshua @rubywonu @pepperonijem @amxlia-stars @weird-bookworm @hannyoontify @my-moarmy-heart @suminsfav @minhui896 @haocovr @lockburn-castle @sweet-like-caramel @horanghae8 @graybaeismytae @karionice @hopetiger10 @shuabby1994

The wind whistles through the castle, seeping in through under the heavy wooden doors, in through the windows that aren't quite sealed enough to keep away the small squeals of air. You hold your breath, trying to not make a sound, curling up even tighter in your spot in the wardrobe. 

"Y/N?" A voice singsongs, and you stiffen at the sound of footsteps echoing on the stone floor outside of the room. "Where are you?"

The door to the room you're in creaks open, and you try to pretend that you're not there.

It doesn't work, though, because not even two seconds later, the wardrobe door swings open and a man grins down at you, dark eyes glittering. 

"Aha! I found you!" Junhui declares, bright and happy, and you groan. He offers out a hand to help you to your feet, and you accept it, brushing off your clothes as you step out of the wardrobe. "Why are you even hiding in these rooms, anyway? You're never gonna need to come to the visitor's wing."

"Hey. We're playing hide and seek for me, you know. Because I don't know the layout if your castle. You never gave me boundaries!" you point out as Junhui leads you out of the room. "I wouldn't have known the boundaries, anyway. Because again. I don't know the layout of your castle."

Junhui laughs. "That's true. Well, anyway, now you know. These are the visitor wings, where we place the visiting royals or Lords who are coming to make relations with the King."

"Your father," you correct. 

"The King," Junhui says again, smiling. "They don't come say hi to my father just because he's my dad, do they? They come because he's the King."

You shrug. "Fair enough."

"Do you wanna play another round of hide and seek?" Junhui asks. "We have some time before some duties we need to carry out. And then Father wants us to eat with him for dinner."

"Yes! Let's play another round!" you say, clasping your hands together. "I think I almost have down the important parts of the castle."

Junhui grins, and takes your hand. "Okay, let's go back outside! I'll count to one hundred again."

As Junhui drags you through his castle, laughing as you stumble over uneven cobblestones and barrel past surprised servants, you can't help but marvel at how different he is from any other Crown Prince you've ever met. 

You can't help but marvel at how you're married to him. 

It hadn't been a love marriage, but rather an arranged one, as most marriages between kingdoms' royal children were. You had little say in who you were going to marry, and Crown Prince Junhui had been chosen for you purely because your father had wanted to maintain peace with a newly emerged kingdom that showed potential to one day be powerful. 

You were a pawn in the grand scheme of petty politics, to say the least. And you had hated it. 

You had done your utmost to sabotage the engagement, refused all of Junhui's courting gifts, fiercely denied meeting him right up until the day of your marriage, insisting that if your freedom to choose who you were going to marry was being taken from you, then you were going to fight for every other little bit of freedom that you could. 

The marriage had been a whistlestop affair, feeling more like a treaty signing with mildly more fanfare than the wedding it was meant to be, and that had infuriated you even more. 

You'd vowed to despise Prince Junhui and his kingdom forever, especially when you'd been whisked away from your home to go live in his castle with him. 

That is, until the day you walked in on Junhui in tears. 

It had been an accident, with you still unaware of the castle layout having only been there a week, and your maidservant was little help, a snooty young lady who seemed to despise the fact that their "attractive young prince was marrying a person who could hold no candle to his beauty". 

You were trying to search for the stables and had gotten hopelessly lost, wandering around the edges of the castle until you accidentally stumbled upon Junhui, hidden in the long grass in a dip in the stones where a turret met the straight walls, wiping his eyes. 

It had startled you, to see him look so sad and lost, and in that moment it struck you that Junhui was in the same position as you, that he was stuck in a loveless marriage just like you, and here you were, snapping at him and avoiding him and being utterly horrible when his life surely wasn't looking any nicer than yours. 

Silently, so as not to be noticed, you had stepped backwards and left him alone. And three days later, you sought him out in his chambers, hand outstretched and tentative smile on your face, asking for a truce. 

And that leads you to where you are now, many months later. Running through the castle. Playing hide and seek to help you understand the layout of how your new home works. 

"Your Highnesses!" the Head Knight yelps, practically throwing himself into the wall as the Crown Prince runs past, with you in tow. "Please be careful!"

"Sorry, Cheol!" Junhui yells back. "You're getting slow in your old age, though!" he adds, and you laugh. 

There's something so youthfully beautiful about Junhui's face when he smiles like that, you think, as he rounds the corner and throws open the doors that lead outside into the courtyard. 

He's so beautiful. 

"Oh my God," you gasp, leaning against the wall, panting. "I think I'm getting slow in my old age."

Junhui laughs again, dark eyes twinkling. "Nonsense. You're young and fit and beautiful, nothing at all like the old hag that is Seungcheol."

You stifle a grin, trying not to focus on how his words make your heart thump oddly in your chest. "Sure, sure. I bet he could still run you through in the blink of an eye, though."

"Oh, definitely," Junhui says instantly, and you laugh at the promptness of his answer. "But our Court Physician? Wow, Jeonghan is even more of a hag, I swear. He never leaves his room."

You tilt your head. "Jeonghan?"

Junhui's eyes widen. "I haven't taken you to meet Jeonghan, have I? Don't worry, we'll do that first thing tomorrow."

It makes your heart warm, really, the amount of effort Junhui is putting in to make you feel comfortable in his kingdom. Ever since that incident those several months ago, he's been the one friendly face you've found comfort in within this new place. He's been your friend. 

But as he beams at you before turning to face the wall, rambling on about how's he's going to count to 100 really slowly to allow you to choose the best hiding spot ever in this castle, a realisation hits you in the chest so hard that your eyes widen. 

Oh, no. 

"Junhui."

Junhui turns around, his face open, and he looks so beautiful that your heart thumps even harder and you're blurting out what you're thinking without even stopping to reconsider. 

"I think I'm in love with you."

[hisui-dreamer]

some more taisho jade thoughts!

in relation to this post!

notes: reader has a supernatural ability to grow any plant and make them thrive no matter the conditions, plant and fungi are kinda loped together here sorry biology people i know they're different kingdoms ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠⊙⁠_⁠ʖ⁠⊙⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

jade is super intimidating when you first meet him, you were tending to your flowers when his shadow loomed over you

when you look up, he has a closed-eye smile on his face, but you don't feel any warmth from it at all

you soon learn, after he basically hurled you up into your new life as his gardening assistant, that the young master is rarely seen showing genuine emotion, always wearing that same plastered smile on his face

and if he's not smiling politely, then he's smirking in sadistic glee

it can't be because he's a merchant, since his twin brother is all about wearing his feelings on his sleeve, so you just decided your new master was weird

i mean, what sane merchant would provide housing, food, and pay to a random florist??

but your view of him changes when you successfully propagate a new fungi that he bought in

turns out he's been struggling with propogating and germinating a lot of his purchases, so he's a bit lost as to what he's doing wrong

he's almost given up on them thinking the climate just isn't right for them to grow

but when you show him how the fungi has propogated, there's a childlike glee on his face unlike anything you've seen before, his cheeks are flushed, his eyes are sparkling with joy, he's dancing around the pot all giddy and excited, and it catches you off guard

huh, so he can make a face like that too

you find yourself more at ease with him from then on, knowing deep down he's just really passionate about his greenhouse and kind of a dork about it

as you start taking care of more and more plants, you learn so much more about the medical capabilities that the plants have

yes, that ugly root over there has insane healing properties that can restrengthen someone's immune system

when you voice your desire to tap into the medical field and help people who are suffering from health issues, jade is a bit sad but immensely proud

you were just a little flower when he met you, small but delicate, immensely pleasing to look at, and all for him to admire

but now you've grown and bloomed so beautifully that he'll have to share you with the rest of the world

nonetheless, jade is a man of weakness when it comes to making you smile, and he very quickly arranged for the leech family to open a medical department with herbal experts and doctors

the experts dry and prepare the herbs so yo won't have to worry about the processing part

it's not very businessman of him, but he makes sure the prices are reasonable and accessible to the public as per your wishes

you're grateful to the core of your heart that you met jade

after all, your special ability has finally been put to use in a way that helps a lot of people, while also keeping you relatively safe from anyone who'd take advantage of you

so you off-handedly mention to jade one day that you're incredibly grateful that you're born with your green thumb, since you met him because of it

you were too focused on trimming the plant in your hands, but if you looked up, you would have seen jade leech, the merchant that so many business partners would still get chills from with just a glance, was flushed pink completely, and not even his gloved hand covering his face could hide the sight

the very next day, he gives you an intricate hairpin, saying it reminded him of you :)

Masterlist

[the-heartlines]

bittersweet

rhaegon | {e. 3.5k}

~post-dance & the only survivors~

“look at what has become of us? both of us have lost everything. and now all that’s left of us…is our pain, our grief. you and me.” rhaenyra chokes back a sob, looking at her half-brother. all that is left of her family. her blood.

aegon gazes back at her, not with disdain or rage, but exhaustion, sadness, defeat. with the same dark circles, the same exact look of madness mirrored in her own violet eyes.

he could be mine own twin, she thinks almost laughing at the realization of how much they are alike. the same shade of silver blonde hair, unkempt and wild. she wishes he would say something, anything to stop her mind from racing, stop the madness from spreading through her like poison.

she longs to hear her brother speak, even though she should hate him, want to tear him apart with own bare hands. spill his blood all over the realm, sacrifice him—like her own son’s were sacrificed.

but she cannot seem to hate him any longer, wish to see him dead, his pretty head on a spike. because aegon ii targaryen, her brother, is all that’s left of her on this earth, keeping her tethered to her, tied to her fleshly vessel. and as long as he lives, breathes, is bound to her, she is chained to him as well.

“you and me?” he scoffs sadly, bitterly, pushing salt into the gaping wounds that are still bleeding, that have yet to scab over. 

“yes, aegon,” she says his name softly, trying to use her words as a binding tourniquet, stave the bleeding of the gashes, the cuts, that run deep, with her tongue. she has always been braver than him, never willing to let failure rule her life again.  “we started this mess and we must fix it, or lest—we let it consume us, destroy us. kill us.”

“i do not care, sister. and neither should you. i’ll hand you the dagger myself, while you drink the poison. we can both die together.” aegon retorts, firing back at her with his words, but she sees tears swimming in his eyes, unshed, and it makes her heart seize. her brother has never truly known true unconditional love and affection that one can have for the other. that a mother can have for a son. a sister for a brother. 

she can’t help herself, for she was a mother, is his sister. 

“aegon, do you not think that we have both drank enough of the poison fed to us since we were born? and i will not spill anymore of our blood, it is far too precious now, more than a bloody throne. or valyrian steel.” rhaenyra walks towards him gracefully, as a queen would towards their king, and gently grips her brother’s pallid cold cheeks in her hands, longing to bring warmth, rosiness back to them. 

the siblings have never been this close to one another. this kind of intimate proximity unbidden to them, forbidden by otto hightower’s garbled poison fed to alicent, the same way she undermined, poisoned her first born son with.

aegon looks up at her, his dark glassy violet eyes, still full of unshed tears. he looks haunted, so haunted, older than the young man he is. he reminds rhaenyra of their father, a king of the seven kingdoms, with all the unwanted weight, the burden laden upon him. since he was pushed from his mother’s womb. brought into this world with only this purpose, to be her challenge, her opponent, her enemy.

“we are family, aegon. you are my brother.” she strokes over the divot in his chin with her thumb, eyes drinking in every scar, mark, freckle, every indication that they are related, of the same bloodline.

“half.” 

it’s all he says, spitting the word out like a curse, a reminder of the past, but rhaenyra ignores it presently, taking aegon’s hand in hers and pressing it against her beating heart, right above her full breast, towards his future. she swallows, heart rattling like a drum, not realizing how much she’s missed being touched so intimately in a year.

“feel my heart, brother,” she accentuates the word, hoping each syllable rings true deep inside him; in his spirit. she bites her lip, suppressing a slight moan, when aegon’s hand flexes, nearly brushing her hardened nipple. and she wishes he would. she desires for him to be bold, to be the wrathful dragon, plundering and pillaging, taking and taking, burning her, until there is nothing left. 

but instead his hand remains motionless, stiff, refusing to mold to her flesh like molten fire. “aegon, please, feel my heart beating. the blood flowing through my veins is as much mine as it is yours, dear brother.” rhaenyra guides his hand upwards towards her warm skin, dipping his fingers beneath her gown, letting him feel the heat from her breast. the burning flesh, feverish with want, with desperation.

rhaenyra gazes deep into his eyes, seeing something alight, a spark starting to spread and it emboldens her, so she presses his hand more firmly against her heart, his calloused fingers deeper into the top of her gown, until his rough fingertips touch her hardened nipple, making them both gasp.

“sister,” aegon’s breath hitches and she can feel him shivering from their shared warmth, the closeness they should have had all along. but it’s not yet too late...fate now giving them both another chance to make things right.

“yes, brother,” rhaenyra moans, feeling his fingers curl around her sensitive nipple, no longer able to hold back the desire, the lust that swirls through her like a hurricane, overwhelming and over entrenching. “more.” she says, knowing that word is enough to push him to the point of no return. pushing them beyond containment because they will both lose control in the other. for they are two sides of the same coin of madness. and only they can complete one another now.

and rhaenyra is the key to unlocking everything unbidden in her brother, unleashing it all.

aegon’s lips are on hers before she can meet him halfway, kiss him first. and she understands he needs this, mayhaps, even more than she does. for in this moment, he’s a dragon starved, feasting, devouring on her flesh, his mouth inhaling her in like the sweetest aphrodisiac. her divine taste— a cure, unlike dreamwine or milk of the poppy, for all ailments he’s suffering. more potent and powerful, all consuming, all encompassing. 

and so rhaenyra opens her mouth to him, lets him twist her tongue with his, in another dance of the dragons. aegon clutches the front of her chest with both hands now, tearing her gown downwards to release her heavy teats to his gluttonous, greedy gaze, groping the meat of her tender breasts in his hands.

“oh, fuck,” rhaenyra groans, unable to help the curse, the hiss, that escapes her throat, his fingers prodding and pulling on her pink peaked tips.

“rhaenyra,” her brother growls her name so brazenly, so beautifully. and every syllable reverberates down her spinal cord, through her veins, straight to her core. towards her cunt that is dripping and drenched, desperate to be full and filled, only by him.

“please,” rhaenyra closes her eyes, pleading against aegon’s lips unabashedly, her hands groping the front of her brother’s hardness unashamedly, trying to mold his cock into submission with her hand. “i need you, aegon. i need to be fucked, brother, to be full of you.” she squeezes his cock a little too harshly in her hand, biting down into his bottom lip, pricking and piercing the skin, drawing his blood with her teeth for the first time. the bittersweet coppery twang of it streams into her mouth, coating her mouth. 

it makes them both ravenous, insatiable for one another.

“more.” aegon grinds his groin into the palm of her hand, digging his jagged nails into her nipples, begging rhaenyra for more of her pointed teeth upon him. begging for her to be the dagger, the sharp valyrian steel, that spills his blood. that only she has permission to. for his flesh, the fire in his blood, belongs to her solely now. and it feeds her volatility, the violence beneath her bones that rattles and resonates with both brother and sister. 

she sucks on his bottom lip, soothing it with her tongue, before her hands unlace his breeches frantically, freeing his weeping cock, gripping its girth close in her fist. “fuck, rhaenyra.” aegon jerks up into her embrace, so she closes her fingers tighter around him, tongue dipping into the mark on his chin, before her mouth moves downwards, towards the underside of his jaw. his stubble scratches her smooth skin and it feels sumptuous along her forlorn flesh, long forsaken by the fevered flesh of another. 

“tell me you need me, aegon,” she murmurs into the crook of his neck, his cock perfectly molded and shaped in her small enclosed hand; shielded and sheltered, held steady by her. “tell me you wantme.” her teeth graze over his throat and he swallows, breathing labored, nostrils flared, eyes closed, heart beating erratically, unevenly. her younger brother, lost to every sensation, every sensuous and serpentine slithering of her inexorably entrenching herself into his very soul and spirit. the elder sister taking root in his body, in the very veins, bones, and muscles that twist and tangle her in their intricacy. 

a queen capturing and conquering the king, caged within her motherly wings, her pointed claws, her maw clutching onto him forever. and so rhaenyra bites her dragon again, but harder, harsher, vulgarly gnawing on his wounded skin, his blood flowing into her, flooding her mouth. a primal roar emits low in her throat, and she clings to his jugular, wanting to drain him of every drop. 

“fuck!” aegon yelps, whining, and rhaenyra yanks his head backwards by his hair, running her fist along his manhood, demanding his compliance, commanding his body, his bones to bend, to sway and swing towards her like the branches and limbs of a tree. but not to break him because she needs him whole, sturdy and standing, rooted to her, not rotting from the inside out.

but first she must have his seed, milk it from his lithe body, have it take root deep inside the rot, bringing forth new life; a rebirth.

rhaenyra reluctantly relinquishes her damning hold on him, and aegon whimpers, her hold forever intertwined, interwoven into every crevice and crack, mending, sewing him back together with the scarlet string that links them together, unbent, unbroken.

“brother, sit,” she says hotly, his blood thick and red like pomegranate juice upon her plush lips, pushing him backwards into their father’s seat, with fiery fervor, but not rage, nor hate. running and raking her nails, her gaze, along her brother’s handsome body, she eyes his cock, standing proudly, flushed an angry shade of crimson, weeping, straining, matching the blood staining his neck, his pale chest, his now rosy cheeks. 

and then rhaenyra’s eyes are on his wide, hungry eyes, seeing the beginning of hope, the flowering of spring; lilac staring into deep violet, blooming under a new rising sun. 

she keeps her orbs locked with aegon’s, mesmerizing him, memorizing every fleck of gold that shines brighter in them when she reveals more of her hidden skin to him, tearing the black gown from her curves wholly.

he stares up at her in awe, mouth agape, the sunlight filtering through, haloing her silver hair, encircling her in a golden crown of the most glorious sun rays. a crown to echo the one rhaenyra lost everything for. lost everything to gain this. for she is his now. his savior. his sister. his goddess, his queen, with his fire and blood dripping deliciously from her mouth.

she steps closer towards his shadow, letting the sun touch it, bathe her brother in its luminous light, letting it blind him and bind him to her.

“kiss me,” rhaenyra demands and aegon is ferocious, feral, pulling her towards him, sealing his lips to hers, licking up the blood she extracted from him so exquisitely, so effortlessly. 

“nyra,” he growls, gutturally, his teeth gnawing onto her own lip, desperately trying to puncture it with as much perseverance, persistent on gorging and getting drunk off of her sweetness and blood.

“yes, aegon. yes.” rhaenyra extols, giving him permission, and so aegon does, rupturing through his sister’s pink flesh with his teeth lecherously, extracting her blood, tasting it alongside his. 

“brother, my sweet brother.” she praises, both exchanging breaths, sharing the air in their lungs, the blood of one another, with each other. and rhaenyra descends herself downward, sinking her supple, slick cunt onto her brother’s stiff manhood, engulfing and suffocating him with her heat.

 “sister!” he cries, his head falling back against the cushion, her voluptuous plump body beginning to bounce against his, contouring against his leaner one. 

“oh, gods,” rhaenyra moans, biting her bloodied lip raw, beginning to ride him viciously and wickedly, his cock penetrating her deeply. 

she watches aegon, with his eyes  closed tightly, fists clenched around the arms of their father’s chair. a chair that their father as king occupied daily, commanding the realm, serving his realm,  while rhaenyra kept quiet, bit her tongue, and served her king and his men. 

and now she rides his son—another king upon it. while each submits their body in servitude towards one another, a slave to each other’s insatiable pleasure.

rhaenyra’s peak is nigh, crescendoing inside her like the waves of a volatile sea, rising inside her, the higher the sun sets on the horizon, illuminating both dragons in its golden light.

“finish inside me,” rhaenyra orders, thrusting and rotating her hips into his, hearing him hiss before he latches onto her throat in the exact place she marked him; reclaiming what should have been his since the moment he was born. what should have been hers as much as the realm, the crown, and the throne.

“give me your seed.” she groans, feeling aegon’s hot searing tongue upon her tender and torn throat, licking her wounds. before the waves of pleasure crash inside her, drowning her in a mixture of salt and sea, as tears stream down her face. “give me your son, aegon.” 

this time aegon kisses her softly, with yearning, but hungrily, the curve of his lips sculpted by the gods, shaped to fit against hers faultlessly, immaculately. rhaenyra tastes the iron, the bitterness of her blood, interlaced with the sweetness of him—her brother.

the burning beneath his flesh, his very soul that scorches her, burns brighter and more incandescent than any star or sun. and she’s his silver moon mirroring that luminosity, brilliantly lighting the way towards both of their salvation. 

for targaryens were always meant to burn together—one body, one soul, one heart, one spirit.

she cups aegon’s face in her hands, thrusting her body languidly, longingly, not wanting him to ever leave her.

“i love you, brother.” rhaenyra confesses against her brother’s lips, telling him those three words for the first time, for she means every single word. and the storm breaks, lightning cracking, catapulting both siblings towards the highest and thunderous peak of their lives.

“sister!” aegon’s piercing cry rings out, as the sun sets and shadows engulf them, but they are together this time, tangled and tethered, closer than ever, eclipsing one another. he holds tight to her, hugging her to him, his mouth latching onto her breast, clinging to every piece of her he can clutch.

rhaenyra’s velvet and vice tight cunt selfishly milks his cock, every drop into the warmth of her womb, welcoming him, her king. and aegon selflessly offers himself up, willingly, worshiping his own goddess, his queen. 

and as king and queen, brother and sister, they shall begin anew, as husband and wife.

—

"don't worry, my son. just because your sister is older, doesn't mean you matter any less." aegon laughed, his smile lighting his face up is the most exquisitely, ethereal way.

"valarr." he let his son's name roll of his lips as venerated as a prayer, cupping their babe's silver haired head in his hands with such tenderness, it made rhaenyra's heart swell. "

"a fine name for a prince. one of valor, if i must say, my husband." rhaenyra teases, lightly trailing her fingers over the inside of aegon's wrist, affectionately, causing goose pimples to rise along his flesh.

"yes, wife," aegon breathes deeply, eyeing their other silver haired babe at her breast, nursing contentedly, nearly asleep. “a brave brother for his older sister.” 

rhaenyra laughs, rolling her eyes, “only by a mere minute, aegon.” 

“and they shall be closer than we ever we’re growing up..thank the gods.” aegon places valarr in the cradle next to their bed, then takes their sleeping daughter away from rhaenyra’s breast, placing her next to her twin.

”viserra,” he presses his lips to her forehead, “my sweet viserra. every bit her mother’s daughter.” aegon chants, sighing against her skin, his violet eyes catching rhaenyra’s.

and his beautiful gaze is full of light, of hope, of love.

rhaenyra tries to speak, tries to say her brother’s name, but her throat is thick with emotion, so she extends her hand to him, beckoning him towards her.

and he holds it, intertwining and interlacing their fingers together, gripping her tightly.

”i love you, rhaenyra,” he confesses for the first time out loud, for her to hear, with his own lips. and it’s the most holy words he’s ever said, that she’s ever heard; the sweetest and heavenliest honeyed wine dripping from his tongue.

she pulls him towards her, kissing him to reassure that’s she knows, has always known—luring her sun to her with her moonlight that seeps into every crack and crevice of his soul, healing every wound, sealing every internal cut, a soothing balm for each scar.

“i know, brother.” she cups his face and tears fall freely down her face and rhaenyra welcomes them, for they are ones of happiness, of the utmost joy. 

“sister,” her brother groans into her mouth, glancing down towards her chest, where her rosy tips are leaking onto the her husband’s naked chest. rhaenyra sighs when he cups her swollen teats in his hands, molding his hands with their shape, before he’s moving his lips once more.

“please, mother.” he seeks her permission and rhaenyra relents graciously yanking aegon by the roots of his hair and pushing her dripping, hardened nipples into his waiting mouth.

”yesss, my sweet brother,” she hisses, his mouth moaning, latching hungrily, drinking, needing to desperately drown his lungs in her mother’s milk, just as he has with her blood—their blood. 

his fingers snake between her sore cunt, finding the hidden aching pearl that brings the most exquisite pleasure. for his mouth and fingers know her body, how to expertly draw out her peak in mere moments. and aegon does it hastily, afraid he’ll lose her forever. and so she climaxes fast, hearing him suck her teats fiercely, his fingers furiously dragging another peak from her body.

”no more, please. she begs quietly, trying not to wake the twins, before he does it once more, determined to ruin her extravagantly. and this time rhaenyra bites her lip to keep from moaning her brother’s name aloud. she’s eager for him wholly, wanting him to fill her womb once more, but she knows she must wait, be patient. but nonetheless her body trembles effortlessly, exhaustively, her cunt soaks his fingers and he drains her of her milk, before he finally finishes.

“gods, wife. i will never tire of your sweetness.” aegon collapses next to her, panting and breathless, licking his lips and rhaenyra seals her lips to his, stealing the sweetness from his tongue, wanting to share in the nourishment that feeds their babes.

”well, husband,” rhaenyra yawns, nestling her backside into her brother’s very hard and leaking cock, rubbing her ass against it. “i am exhausted and must sleep.”

”rhaenyra!” aegon hisses, feeling his wife’s hand reach around and encircle around his girth, gripping it tightly. 

“goodnight, brother.” rhaenyra squeezes his head, petting it, patting it, then leaving him without her touch, teasing him. and aegon groans frustratedly, while she smirks knowingly.

because they both know she won’t leave him wanting long, waiting for her, not like she has in the past.

because as brother and sister they belong to one another, like a body belongs to a soul, connected by veins, arteries, a heart. and rhaenyra is the very heart of aegon. and her blood makes his heart beat, with fire, fervency. 

free from the shackles of the bitterness, made whole by the blossoming sweetness; with the burning bond that’s unbreakable between them.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

── THE GLASS PRINCESS // TWELVE

Series Synopsis: You wake up in a strange room with no memories, broken glass at your bedside, and a prince named Zuko as your only chance at figuring out who you really are.

Chapter Synopsis: The Tales of Ba Sing Se: The Tale of Princess Y/N

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Zuko x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.1k

Content Warnings: complicated relationships (strangers to friends to lovers to enemies to strangers to lovers to enemies to lovers), amnesia, alternate universe, lots of secrets and lying and mystery

A/N: going to say it right here right now…this chapter is 75% crack and goofy nonsense shenanigans LMAOAO. mostly because zuko and y/n’s relationship is so i see the light from tangled across the stars from star wars etc etc but the main man of this chapter & y/n are just the subway surfers theme song personified

“I’m very confused,” you said, sitting on Quynh’s front paw and gazing up at her beseechingly. “I need your help, Quynh.”

“I was questioning why you stayed here with me instead of running off to that tea shop you love so much,” she said, inclining her nose towards you. “What is the matter?”

“It’s about the tea shop,” you said. “Or, specifically, a certain employee.”

“That boy you met? Lee?” she said. Her muzzle wrinkled, though it was with concern, not anger. “Has he done something wrong to you?”

“No, not at all,” you said. “Well. Maybe a little bit, but he’s not quite aware that he’s done anything. And then there’s the whole problem with the Blue Spirit…”

“Your mysterious savior? What is his relation to the situation?” she said. “Dearest Y/N, you must explain at once before I am irreversibly angered.”

“Lee makes me feel bizarre!” you said, throwing your hands in the air. Quynh blinked at you.

“Makes you feel bizarre?” she said.

“Yes,” you said. “Incredibly so.”

There was really no other adjective for what it was. It was unprecedented, the kind of emotion you had never felt before, not for anyone – bar the Blue Spirit, but it was different even then. Of the same foundation, but taking a different form.

“You’ll have to explain a little more,” she said.

“It’s like my stomach is in knots,” you said. “And as if my heart has turned to a bird and is fluttering its wings about! What is this power that he has, that he can send my body into fits? But, for all that, I still want to be around him. It matters not what we are doing; as long as he is there, I am happy. Yet how can I be happy? He is driving me to failure! Why, for all I know, he really might bring about my death!”

For a moment, Quynh was silent, and then her body began to rumble. You were vindicated for a bit, thinking that she was growling with protective instinct, but your temporary satisfaction immediately vanished when you realized she was laughing.

“For a girl who spends so much time reading about so many different topics, you know so little of the world,” she said. “Though then again, this is the kind of thing that you have to experience to understand.”

“What are you talking about?” you said.

“He doesn’t have any special powers, and you aren’t going to die,” she said. “If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say you like him.”

Your mind blanked. The thought of you liking Lee was utterly preposterous. Lee, the snarky tea server? Lee, the passionate super-fan of The Mask of the Blue Spirit? Lee, who’d just as soon say something rude as he would something kind? If Quynh was to be believed, then that Lee was someone you liked, but that just wasn’t right.

“No way!” you said. “I can’t have feelings for Lee.”

“Why not?” Quynh said.

“He’s Lee!” you said helplessly. “It’s just — it’s just not how things are supposed to go.”

“Then how are things supposed to go?” she said. “Why is there a certain way that it must all happen? Things are rarely if ever set in stone, even in a kingdom made up of Earthbenders.”

“The Blue Spirit,” you said. “It’s supposed to be him. He’s the one who’s saved me, the one who knows the truth of my bending and my identity. He’s the one I’m meant to like.”

“You told him you’re a bender?” Quynh said. “That’s a new development. I thought you didn’t want to tell anyone.”

“It’s that there was no one I could trust to tell,” you said. “Until him. If a man has saved your life twice, then you can expect that he will do so a third time as well, right? So I did not feel afraid in revealing that part of me to him. I’d reveal anything to him if he asked.”

“Then there is a conundrum,” Quynh said.

“Exactly. That’s why I can’t like Lee,” you said. “It’s the Blue Spirit. There is no doubt in my mind that he is the person you foresaw me finding.”

“Hm,” Quynh said. “Do you think so?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “Lee reminds me that I am more than just a princess. I can live a different kind of life when I am with him — a happier kind. But the fact is that I am a princess, and the Blue Spirit shows me what that genuinely means. The reality of the world beyond the palace walls…if it were not for him, I’d still be blind to it all.”

Quynh sighed. “It’s not like you know who the Blue Spirit is.”

“No matter who he is underneath the mask, he’ll always be the Blue Spirit. He’ll always be the person who saved me,” you said, and then you slapped your hand over your mouth. “Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh?” Quynh parroted. “Why are you saying that?”

“I just — I just accidentally quoted Jin!” you said. Quynh, who, being a bear spirit, was not exactly well-read, huffed at you.

“Am I meant to know who Jin is?” she said.

“She’s a character in The Mask of the Blue Spirit,” you said.

“Okay,” she said.

“That line is a part of the ending I detest! Have I become such a shallow person that I bear a resemblance to her of all characters? What will Lee think? It’s our greatest point of contention, that we do not agree on the ending, but if I’ve gone and adopted her worldview, then that means I do subconsciously like it!” you wailed.

Once more, Quynh began to laugh, nudging you and knocking you over, though she caught you in her other paw before you could hit the ground. Putting you back in your comfortable spot nestled against her fur, she continued to chuckle as she spoke.

“Quoting a single line does not mean you agree with everything a character has done,” she said. “And what does it matter to you what Lee thinks?”

“It just does,” you said. “It really matters to me.”

“Princess, I think that your dilemma is not a dilemma at all,” she said.

“Huh? Yes, it is!” you said.

“It’s not,” she said. “If you search within yourself, you will know the truth. Even in just this conversation, even without seeking it out, I have found it. And no one can know your heart better than you, so there is no reason that you cannot do the same.”

“I’ve been searching! But no answer has made itself apparent,” you said.

“Keep looking,” she said. “One day, it will. Until then, you needn’t decide anything. No one is forcing your hand.”

That was true. It wasn’t as if you were being threatened into a decision, into an acknowledgment. If your feelings really were the kind that Quynh was suggesting, then things would be spoiled, so you vowed to push them aside for now and focus on other, more pressing matters.

“That’s not the only subject that I have been mulling over recently. Quynh, do you think I would have made a better queen than Kuei is king?” you said. Her ears pricked, and her voice took on an alarmed cast when she responded.

“I know you don’t mean to be seditious, but the implication is there,” she said.

“Maybe it is seditious, but I still want your answer. The Earth Kingdom was built on your back; you’ve witnessed every monarch’s reign, every king’s rise and fall, every war and each bloody moment in the land’s history. No one would know better than you if I made the right decision all of those years ago,” you said.

“It’s not so simple,” she said. “Every king has inherited a different world than their predecessors. Some anre easier times than others, but all have their variances. Kuei is not a bad king, believe it or not. He is an uneducated one, an ignorant one, perhaps even an inept one, but he is not a bad one. He was one born to rule over a world at peace, one born to mature slowly and reign in old age, and he was given none of those considerations.”

“What about me?” you said.

“You are a princess who wants to love her people very much,” she said. “There’s always a place for that kind of royalty. However, there’s no saying what kind of ruler you would’ve been; the likelihood is that you would’ve been the same as your brother. Children are not meant to rule, dear girl. Remember it well; a boy should not be king any more than a crook should.”

You swallowed. “If only our father were still here. Things would be better.”

The father who you had never met, yet whose absence you mourned daily anew. If he were still alive, then would Ba Sing Se be as troubled as it had become under your brother’s command? You tried to imagine what kind of a man he would be. The 51st Earth King…you had read the stories and the songs until you had memorized them, but they were flimsy replacements for knowing him, for loving him.

You envied Kuei in that sense. He had met your parents. He had loved your parents and been loved by them in return. Neither of them had even known you long enough to love you. Were it not for Quynh and Kuei, you wouldn’t have been loved by anyone at all.

“They would be,” Quynh said. “But your father is gone, Y/N, and you cannot change the past. For better or for worse, your brother is the king.”

“Ba Sing Se is falling apart,” you said. “The great capital that you and Shan built is crumbling under Kuei’s control. The worst part is that he does not even know it, and he would not believe me if I told him! Isn’t it a sad twist? That I am the one with the knowledge but not the power, and he is the one who knows nothing yet has everything!”

“You are still a princess,” Quynh said. “Not a king nor a queen, but you are still the second-most powerful person in this kingdom. You are not as helpless as you are determined to believe yourself.”

“What can I do?” you said.

She angled her paw so that you slid off of it and onto your feet, and then she curled back up in her usual position. A door opened, one that must’ve led to Ba Sing Se, and she let out a gravelly exhale.

“If there is a problem, then you must understand it,” she said. “Only then can you begin to fix it. Do you understand what is happening in the city at present? In your own palace?”

“Not really,” you said. “Do you?”

“I do, but I also do not,” she said. “It’s an internal knowledge that I cannot explain to anyone else, but I am aware of it. Like an itch on my back which I cannot reach.”

“Spirit nonsense,” you said. “No matter. You’re right; even if Lee cannot tell me, there must be some way I can suss things out.”

“It’s a large city,” Quynh agreed. “There will be someone willing to help you. You only need to find them. As you found the Blue Spirit. As you found Lee.”

“Do you think I can?” you said.

“I think you can do a lot more than you are aware of,” she said. “You remind me of someone else. Someone I knew a very long time ago.”

“One of my ancestors?” you said.

“My own brother,” she said. “It has been ages upon ages since I saw him last. I thought that I could not quite recall his face anymore, but then I saw yours, and I knew that it had to be the same. I knew that he had come to be at my side again, however briefly.”

Her brother — Shan. The founder of the Earth Kingdom, who had against all odds taken a continent at war and turned it into a single nation that was united and powerful beyond even the wildest dreams of his contemporaries. What kind of equivalency was that? Who would think to compare you with the legendary first king?

You thought that Quynh’s passageway would lead you to the tea shop, as it usually did, but instead it spit you out in front of a building far too elegant to be in the Lower Ring. That meant you must’ve been in the Upper Ring, where the wealthier residents of Ba Sing Se stayed.

“Why am I here?” you muttered. Reading the sign hung above the door, you saw that the building was a girls’ poetry house. When you strained your ears, you heard the dulcet tones of recited haikus being whispered back and forth, though an unexpected addition made you pause. “That’s an awfully masculine sounding girl…”

All of a sudden, the door slammed open, and a man in a security uniform tossed out a boy clad in blue. Your eyes widened as he came flying at you, knocking you to the floor beneath him with the force of the guard’s throw.

“Aw, man,” the boy groaned. “I was just trying to show my appreciation for poetry — woah! When did you get here?”

His eyes were a bright, clear blue, though it was not the dark shade of the Blue Spirit’s mask, but rather a luminous, glittering color that pierced straight through you. For a moment, you thought that he must’ve known your every secret and intimacy — such was the depth of his gaze. But it only lasted for a moment, after which you remembered that there was no way he could’ve come to know it all just by looking at you.

“I was just passing by, and then that boorish security threw you at me!” you said. The boy leapt to his feet and offered you his hand, pulling you up when you took it and giving you a wide grin in return.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said, shaking the hand he had already captured in his own vigorously. “I’m Sokka!”

“Y/N,” you said. He narrowed his eyes at you, leaning closer and scrutinizing you, an ordeal for which you stayed entirely still. Only when he was finally satisfied did he straighten, though he was still frowning slightly.

“That name is mighty familiar,” he said. “Have we met or something? I feel like I know you.”

“I…used to be in the circus?” you said, silently apologizing to Lee and Mushi for stealing their personal backgrounds for your cover story. “A very well-regarded one. I was, um, famous. For my acrobatics. That’s probably where you recognize me from.”

You hoped Mushi wouldn’t be upset that you had just appropriated his identity. It was the only one you could think of without the time to prepare in advance, and even then only because it was on your mind due to how absurd you had found it when Lee had mentioned it.

“We haven’t visited any circuses on our trip,” Sokka said. “So that can’t be it.”

“I’m a household name!” you said. “The main attractions tend to be, you know. Everyone across the Earth Kingdom knows who I am.”

This was actually not a lie. It would be difficult to find a single family who had not at least heard of you, but it wasn’t because of your nonexistent acrobatic prowess. Either way, it must have been convincing enough, as Sokka just shrugged it off.

“If you say so,” he said. “Can you do a cartwheel?”

“Not in a dress, I can’t,” you said. “Don’t be foolish. How would I possibly maneuver my limbs in that way with all of this fabric obstructing me?”

“Aw, I was really hoping you could show me how it’s done! I’ve always wanted to learn how to cartwheel,” Sokka said as the two of you began to walk away from the poetry house. He swung his arms by his sides as he walked, with a lackadaisical looseness you had never observed so closely before. Even Lee, Mushi, and the Blue Spirit had neat, contained manners to their gaits, each movement done with purpose, but Sokka was haphazard and almost unwieldy in his grace.

“If I were wearing pants, I might be able to demonstrate, but as it is, you’ll have to find another teacher,” you said.

“Wait! I have the best idea ever!” Sokka said. “You’re going to love this.”

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when he said that, but whatever it had been, it was not this. It did not come as a surprise that you did not love it; in fact, you were more befuddled than anything.

Sokka’s clothes did not by any means fit you properly, and the same could be said for your dress on his frame. He did not seem to mind, though, giving you a double-thumbs-up when he emerged from behind the wall where he had changed.

“You look great!” he said.

“I don’t know that I can say the same about you, but in the interest of being polite, I should like to tell you that you appear radiant at the moment,” you said.

“Why’re you speaking like you’re about to give a speech or something? Seriously, you Upper Ring folk are so weird,” he said.

“Aren’t you also one of the Upper Ring folk?” you said. “Considering I’ve met you here, you must be.”

“Nah, I’m just a visitor,” he said.

“But a very important one. Not everyone is lodged in the Upper Ring,” you said. Sokka blushed and waved you off.

“I know a guy or two,” he said. “No biggie, just another day in the life. But enough talking! Let’s get to cartwheeling. This is a moment I’ve dreamed of for a long time!”

“I hope you’ve been dreaming of being disappointed for equally as long,” you said.

“What’d you say?” he said.

“Nothing,” you said.

“Then what are we waiting for?” he said. “Show me how it’s done!”

There was a problem: you had no idea how to do a cartwheel. If only it were Mushi in your place! According to Lee, he was supremely flexible, and he had his circus training. As well, his patient and kind demeanor meant that he would be uniquely suited to being Sokka’s cartwheeling mentor. At any rate, he’d be better than you at the job, though that wasn’t really a high bar.

“Here goes nothing,” you said, taking a deep breath and raising your arms over your head. Trying to emulate what you had heard about the movement, you took a step forward and tried to push off with your back leg.

Somehow, it happened that your slipper came flying off, smacking Sokka in the face as you lost your balance and landed in a heap on the cobblestones of the street. Sokka shrieked as he, too, was knocked over, though through the dim awareness you had of the situation, you could not quite discern how a mere shoe had been enough to warrant that much of a reaction.

“I think you’re bad luck,” he said, rubbing his head. “No wonder you left the circus. I can’t believe they kept you around for as long as they did!”

“I’m out of practice,” you said, accepting the shoe he passed you and putting it back on. “Could I have my clothes back, perhaps? Or have you taken a liking to them? Because I do not think you wear green as well as I do.”

“Hey!”

Once you and he were back in your regular clothes, you readied yourself to wish Sokka farewell. You weren’t really sure what he was doing or why he was in the Upper Ring, but you thought it was safe to say that he was not the person Quynh was talking about, the one who would be willing to help you in solving the problems of your kingdom.

“I still can’t shake the feeling that you remind me of someone,” Sokka said.

“Do you have any siblings?” you said.

“A younger sister,” he said.

“It’s probably her. I’m a younger sister, too,” you said. “If you’re not an avid circus-goer, then that’s the only other option I can come up with.”

“That’s another thing! I’ve never heard of circus performers speaking so fancily,” he said.

“You said it yourself that you haven’t visited any circuses on your trip, so how would you know?” you said. “It’s a shame that you have these stereotypes in your head. You should do some introspection about where they originate from.”

“What — no, I’m not — that’s not what I meant! There’s just something about you that I’m this close to figuring out!” he said, holding up his thumb and pointer finger, pressing them together for effect.

“You’re not getting paid for it, so why waste the effort?” you said.

“I’m just a curious — duck!” he said.

“Duck? Do you mean a turtleduck? That’s an interesting way to describe yourself — oh!” you said as he pulled you to the ground and out of the way of an incoming boulder.

“Whose bad side did you get on, huh?” Sokka said, motioning for you to run along with him. It was nothing like when you and the Blue Spirit had fled from the assassin’s previous attack; you didn’t have that implicit trust in Sokka to protect you, and for his part, Sokka was just as panicked as you were, so all told it was a much less graceful exit as you charged through the streets of the Upper Ring.

“A bunch of assassins!” you said. “They’ve been chasing me on and off for weeks now.”

“Assassins?” Sokka wheezed out as you increased your pace. “Just what kind of acrobat were you?”

“One that made a lot of enemies — look out!” you said, jumping into the air to avoid the stone gloves that reached for your ankles. Missing their target, they slammed into the wall and burst into smithereens.

“We’re almost at our guest house!” Sokka said. “The others should be able to help us if we haven’t lost these freaks by then. We just have to reach there before getting, y’know, crushed!”

“That’d be ideal!” you said, covering your head with your hands as you rounded a corner. Sokka kicked the door to a luxurious villa down, shoving you in and then slamming it shut behind him, pressing his back to it as the three occupants of the home gave you both alarmed looks.

“Assassins — rocks — cartwheel instructor!” Sokka said, heaving for breath and pointing at you. You waved at the trio, who must’ve been the friends that Sokka was visiting Ba Sing Se with.

One was a beautiful girl who bore an uncanny resemblance to Sokka — indubitably, this was his sister, though unlike Sokka, her eyes swirled with something lively and unsettled, as if they were twin seas set in her sweet face. Beside her was another girl, this one with fine features like a lady but a rough aura like a wrestler, and on her right was a boy with the blue arrows of an Airbending master running along his body.

“You’re going to have to repeat that,” Sokka’s sister said. “What’s going on? Who is this?”

“My cartwheeling instructor,” Sokka said.

“In a manner of speaking,” you said. “I didn’t really teach him much.”

“You know how to cartwheel? I love cartwheeling!” the Airbender said.

“Why didn’t Sokka ask you to teach him, then?” you said. The boy shrugged.

“Dunno,” he said.

“We were in the middle of a lesson—” Sokka began.

“As I recall, we were about to part ways,” you interrupted. Sokka shushed you impatiently.

“Like I was saying, we were in the middle of a lesson when, out of nowhere, pow! There was a boulder flying at our heads, and then boom! We almost died from it!” he said. You decided to just be quiet and let him tell the story; he had a flair for dramatics that you could not hope to match.

“What? Why?” his sister said.

“No idea! She said that she’s been being chased by those assassins for a while now!” Sokka said.

“Did you bring a criminal into our house?” his sister said, arching a brow at you. “Are you a criminal?”

“Not as far as I know,” you said. “I suppose I’m not really meant to be out here, but it’s not against any significant law for me to be. It’s just a family rule I’ve broken.”

“You said that they’re assassins?” the younger of the two girls said. “There’s no way. I didn’t sense anyone coming near us except for you two and some of the Dai Li agents.”

“They must be super sneaky!” Sokka said. “Right, Y/N?”

“Hm, it might be,” you said, lost in thought at this suggestion. Though you had no idea what she meant when she said she had sensed the Dai Li’s presence, you also had no reason to think that the girl was lying. There were two things that that could mean if what she said was correct, and neither of them were options you wanted to be true.

“Sokka,” his sister said. It was then that you realized that she, the Airbender, and the other girl were staring at you. “What did you just call your new friend?”

“You’re right! I can’t believe I forgot to do introductions! Y/N, this is Aang, Toph, and my sister Katara. Everyone, this is Y/N,” Sokka said, pointing at everyone as he said their names.

“Hello,” you said. “It’s lovely to meet you all.”

“Sokka!” Katara said. “You dumb, idiotic genius! We’ve been trying to talk to the king for ages, and you just happened to meet his sister while out and about!”

“That’s where I knew your name from!” Sokka said. “Princess Y/N, duh. Wait! You’re Princess Y/N!”

“Um,” you said, swearing internally at the fact that you had not thought to come up with a new name to go along with your alter ego as an acrobat. “No, I’m not.”

“She’s lying,” Toph said. “I have seismic sense, so you can forget about trying to make things up, princess. I’ll be able to tell in an instant.”

“You don’t know how good it is to meet you!” Aang said. “We’ve been trying to talk to your brother for a while now, but it’s not been going well.”

“Why would you want to talk to Kuei?” you said before you could stop yourself, rolling your eyes at the mere thought of anyone actually desiring to speak with him. “He’s not the most stimulating conversationalist.”

“You’re Princess Y/N!” Sokka said again. “You’re the princess of the Earth Kingdom, and I made you wear my clothes and do cartwheels!”

“When you put it like that, it does sound like a grave offense,” you said. “Shall I have you executed for it?”

“No!” he said, falling to his knees and bowing. “Oh esteemed, valued, generous, kind, benevolent princess, please spare my life! Please please please please please please—”

“I was only joking,” you informed him.

“We have to speak to the Earth King,” Aang said. “Do you think you could get us an audience? It’s urgent. If it helps, tell him the Avatar is the one making the request.”

“You’re the Avatar?” you said. Aang nodded at you, his expression grave and at odds with his youthful countenance. “For some reason, I thought you’d be older.”

“He’s technically 112 years old,” Sokka piped up from where he was now supine on the floor by your feet. “So there’s that.”

“I see,” you said. “You look good for your age, then. My apologies for making assumptions.”

“It’s complicated,” Aang said. “Do you think you can help us, though?”

“We’re kind of at our wits’ ends,” Katara added.

“Those Earth Palace dolts are the next level of stupid,” Toph said. “It’s all a bunch of bureaucracy and rules. Blech.”

“I can’t guarantee it,” you said. “I’m sorry. I’m not even allowed to be here right now. You see, I’m forbidden to leave my chambers. It’s only through the power of a spirit named Quynh that I may enter and exit without detection — though, I’m beginning to doubt how true that part is, but that’s an issue for me to work through on my own time. I’ll do my best to help you all while I’m at it, but for the most part, my hands are tied.”

“Okay,” Katara said when it became obvious that the others were too disappointed to come up with a response. “There’s nothing more we can ask of you. Just — it’s really urgent. You have to mean it when you say you’ll do your best.”

“I do mean it,” you said. “But in case, is there any other message you’d like me to pass along?”

“There is a war,” Aang said. “He has to ignore everything that he’s been told and realize that. There’s a war going on, and without his support, we’re going to lose it.”

A war. Of course. It made so much sense. The refugees. The injuries. The state of Ba Sing Se. It all pointed towards a distant yet rapidly encroaching conflict. That was the problem. That was what you needed to understand, or at least begin with understanding — there were other things that the Avatar and his friends had accidentally or purposefully revealed, smaller details that you would pick at and dissect until their natural conclusions, but this was the main point.

Not yet, though. These were things best done in the harsh, inescapable brightness of day, and tonight’s twilight was already waning. Soon, it would be time for the daily lighting of the Firelight Fountain’s lanterns, and there was something else you wanted to do before that.

Blending into crowds when you could, creeping past checkpoints and keeping your head lowered to avoid detection, you snuck into the Lower Ring, making your way towards a certain place, Quynh’s words coming to mind all of a sudden.

He would be starting his evening shift soon. You could picture him putting his apron on, rolling up his sleeves and complaining to his uncle about how much he hated his job and how they deserved to be somewhere else — the circus, perhaps? You weren’t sure, for he never really elaborated, but that was because the alternative location was not as important as the dissatisfaction he felt.

Despite your best efforts to quash it for fear of looking like a fool — what normal person was so excited by the prospect of apologizing to the dourest boy born to humanity? — a smile formed on your face as you began to walk faster, towards the tea shop where you knew Lee would be waiting.

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