comment_fic drabbles for Kings
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Drabbles range from PG13 to light R.
Kings, Jack/David, change
Revelations of his father's influence over him, does not change him (it never influenced him he slowly realizes).
He does not change when his father's body is cold in the ground, nor when he silently mourns the death in the arms of someone he'd once detested; the golden hero (better than him).
He does not change (doesn't realize he does), his heart does not thaw from it's icy grave; he does not want to change...but he does.
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Kings, Jack/David, bearer of bad news
His teeth are ragged against flesh carved in the lines of war (the smell of blood so thick in the air, he's stopped breathing); his breath is slowing down.
Long since thrown down the confines of being a prince (a liar), his lips drag across lips as dry, cracked as his own (he slips down into hell, he's sure of it).
His breath is slow and his skin is cold (his heart slowsslowsdownsoquicklythereisnolife), with a tight grimace; he looks at the grim reaper before him (shining blond hair and earnest blue eyes...lips redder than the blood dripping from him).
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Kings, author's choice, She Broke My Heart So I Broke His Jaw
He's angry, so fucking angry; he could scream it to the heavens and never be finished. They've never been close, close on the outside at least. But he feels her pain, knows her better than anyone else.
Knows how she cries at night, every night because she can never be free again. Once prized princess, the family's black sheep for nine months. He could beat his fists bloody against the icon's face.
Bruise that face until his blood stained the floor, he's furious. Bites his lip and blood spews in his mouth, chokes him (gags him).
"I didn't know, she never told me."
The solider blames someone else (Jack should have let him die with lies). His fist hits the future King's face, something cracks (inside him).
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Kings, Jack/David/Michelle, behind closed doors
A princess does not gasp under the harsh touches of a twin (does not look at him with darkening eyes).
The solider does not bend to the will of his superiors, he bends them. A gentle man turned controlling, demanding lover with the click of a lock. He grasps slender wrists in his hands, powers over her, whispers things for only them to hear.
Prince ashamed of his desires (desires so long hidden) gives into his nature. He battles for control, bruises pale flesh beneath his body, swallows their moans.
They lay together after, legs twisted (it's difficult to tell where a pair ends and another begins). Only Michelle fills the air with mindless chatter, long practiced speeches to be aired before her father.
The door opens and they quickly go their own way with lingering glances and fading bruises.
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Kings, Jack/David/Michelle, crawling in the dark
Jack is rescued during the night when he dreams of the dead, dreams a dream of people who once were. The glorified (damned) prince is roused from his slumber with quick shakes that send the soldier in him scrambling to fight.
He kisses the blond tresses (the man who would be King) with a yearning long forgotten in his body, tries to silence the sobs (he was slowly dying; a breath of fresh air). They escape through the open door, iron strong in the air; hand warm clasped around his own.
Michelle is not a lowly princess anymore. Her prison is the damnation of a born bastard, a son so quickly taken from her, she does not remember the sound of his cries. She sits in the darkest of corners, in the darkest of moods. Michelle is rescued as strong arms lift her up and shield her eyes from what she must hear. Screams echo through the halls, the sound of a knife silently slitting a throat.
They crawl away in the dark and entwine as the sun rises above them, coated with filth of what the kingdom has become.
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Kings, Jack/David, pawn
Next in line, and he is the knight on the chessboard of life; a severely underused piece.
The pawn does not bend under his touch, does not fall, does not cower in the shadows as he should; the pawn bends the knight backwards and lips smash together painfully.
He's forgotten what other emotions feel like completely, so used to controlling everything(one) around him until he's imposing like the sun in the sky (he bends).
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Drabbles range from PG13 to light R.
Kings, Jack/David, change
Revelations of his father's influence over him, does not change him (it never influenced him he slowly realizes).
He does not change when his father's body is cold in the ground, nor when he silently mourns the death in the arms of someone he'd once detested; the golden hero (better than him).
He does not change (doesn't realize he does), his heart does not thaw from it's icy grave; he does not want to change...but he does.
---------------------
Kings, Jack/David, bearer of bad news
His teeth are ragged against flesh carved in the lines of war (the smell of blood so thick in the air, he's stopped breathing); his breath is slowing down.
Long since thrown down the confines of being a prince (a liar), his lips drag across lips as dry, cracked as his own (he slips down into hell, he's sure of it).
His breath is slow and his skin is cold (his heart slowsslowsdownsoquicklythereisnolife), with a tight grimace; he looks at the grim reaper before him (shining blond hair and earnest blue eyes...lips redder than the blood dripping from him).
----------------------
Kings, author's choice, She Broke My Heart So I Broke His Jaw
He's angry, so fucking angry; he could scream it to the heavens and never be finished. They've never been close, close on the outside at least. But he feels her pain, knows her better than anyone else.
Knows how she cries at night, every night because she can never be free again. Once prized princess, the family's black sheep for nine months. He could beat his fists bloody against the icon's face.
Bruise that face until his blood stained the floor, he's furious. Bites his lip and blood spews in his mouth, chokes him (gags him).
"I didn't know, she never told me."
The solider blames someone else (Jack should have let him die with lies). His fist hits the future King's face, something cracks (inside him).
--------------------
Kings, Jack/David/Michelle, behind closed doors
A princess does not gasp under the harsh touches of a twin (does not look at him with darkening eyes).
The solider does not bend to the will of his superiors, he bends them. A gentle man turned controlling, demanding lover with the click of a lock. He grasps slender wrists in his hands, powers over her, whispers things for only them to hear.
Prince ashamed of his desires (desires so long hidden) gives into his nature. He battles for control, bruises pale flesh beneath his body, swallows their moans.
They lay together after, legs twisted (it's difficult to tell where a pair ends and another begins). Only Michelle fills the air with mindless chatter, long practiced speeches to be aired before her father.
The door opens and they quickly go their own way with lingering glances and fading bruises.
----------------------
Kings, Jack/David/Michelle, crawling in the dark
Jack is rescued during the night when he dreams of the dead, dreams a dream of people who once were. The glorified (damned) prince is roused from his slumber with quick shakes that send the soldier in him scrambling to fight.
He kisses the blond tresses (the man who would be King) with a yearning long forgotten in his body, tries to silence the sobs (he was slowly dying; a breath of fresh air). They escape through the open door, iron strong in the air; hand warm clasped around his own.
Michelle is not a lowly princess anymore. Her prison is the damnation of a born bastard, a son so quickly taken from her, she does not remember the sound of his cries. She sits in the darkest of corners, in the darkest of moods. Michelle is rescued as strong arms lift her up and shield her eyes from what she must hear. Screams echo through the halls, the sound of a knife silently slitting a throat.
They crawl away in the dark and entwine as the sun rises above them, coated with filth of what the kingdom has become.
-----------------------
Kings, Jack/David, pawn
Next in line, and he is the knight on the chessboard of life; a severely underused piece.
The pawn does not bend under his touch, does not fall, does not cower in the shadows as he should; the pawn bends the knight backwards and lips smash together painfully.
He's forgotten what other emotions feel like completely, so used to controlling everything(one) around him until he's imposing like the sun in the sky (he bends).
------------------------