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kyunniebuns · 8 months ago

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˗ˏˋ Jinwoo Drabbles ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 028 ✦ ┆・

‼️[ TW: Implied Yandere Jinwoo, suggestive end <3]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Jealous. Jealous Jealous. ] ¡! ❞

What kind of rage is more terrifying than one that is being displayed in the open like a volcanic eruption?

The type that is silent.

The kind of rage akin to that of a blazing flame that sits beneath calm serene water free of ripples. The kind of fury hidden inside a doll that has been abused and thrown by its own, developing a curse within it’s porcelain glass that is pristine and free of cracks

That was the kind of rage Jinwoo holds beneath his expressionless exterior.

Though his empty grey orbs displayed nothing, there was an undesirable wish to set everything ablaze. To bathe this glorious ballroom in brilliant dancing embers.

Oh but he had to hold back.

He has to.

After all, his beloved is currently attending as a plus-one in this small gathering of hunters and celebrities alike are present. Jinwoo never really thought much of it, he invited you since for one; you are his lover. Two; he wanted to show you off to the world.

Sure, you could say that he’s doing that just to prove to everyone that he loves you more than anything or to perhaps end the rumours that he is secretly dating famous actresses or some rich girl or someone else. But all those things came in second really. His real priority was to see you dressed up pretty.

Of course, you’re always been pretty in Jinwoo’s eyes. Your figure dressed in an outfit that accentuates your beautiful body. Meek but elegant jewellery on your ears and most importantly— Your pretty face gleaming underneath the brilliant lights in this ballroom. The golden glow on your face just made you more endearing.

You are the apple of Jinwoo’s eyes.

But ah… You two aren’t alone in this little gathering.

People kept approaching you. At first, it was merely small talk and greetings. Nothing really wrong with that. But Jinwoo was perceptive. Too perceptive.

He knew how men do their things, he isn’t that stupid since he is one himself.

He could see the way those grimy bastards flashed you their charming smiles. How their hands were twitching to rub their digits over your skin that only he is allowed to ever touch.

Ah… Jinwoo could feel his head about to burst the more he watches the men flock over you for your favour.

He tried to stay calm really, but the more the seconds ticked by, the more he watched them try to woo you over— He wanted to call over his children and maul them over to death.

Jinwoo stayed in his spot, with hazy grey orbs so far gone in the stirring rage brewing within his stiff body.

The moment he spots someone about to land a palm on your lovely waist— Jinwoo charges forward and stops the hand. His hazy grey orbs now glowing with a terrifying hue of purple.

“Well aren’t you having a good time?” Jinwoo says with his low voice, warning and daring the bastard to do something.

The man stiffened, paling at the up-close sight of the shadow monarch that is craving to put an end to his life right then and there. Jinwoo has the look that could kill, even his eyes can be enough to put your 6-feet under.

As Jinwoo roughly let go of the man’s hand before wiping his palms and then extending it towards you.

Of course, you obediently take his palm. The moment he felt your skin, Jinwoo flicked his head to the host and said; “It’s late, my lover is not a fan of staying up late at night. We’ll be on our way now”

Without even batting an eye back to the crowd that froze due to his ministrations.

Jinwoo would have been calm when you both arrived home. But you kept talking about the famous celebrities who were polite to you. The way you smiled was endearing but irritating at the same time because someone else is causing you to make such a pretty expression.

You didn’t even stop even as you both arrived in your bedroom.

Eventually, Jinwoo would lose his patience and there would be a visible shift in his eyes.

Eyes had always been mirrors to the soul, and Jinwoo for one— Had especially expressive ones. His blank face may be devoid of anything but his eyes would always manage to show what he really feels.

The way his grey orbs are sweeping over you right now, it was dominating. It was as if Jinwoo was holding back a destructive dam, threatening to swallow him whole and then bursting.

“So, you find that Mr. Cheong is charming?” Jinwoo cocks up an eyebrow, putting one step in front of the other— Causing you to step back with the sudden overwhelming feel of Jinwoo’s shift in his demeanour. “You seem so entranced by his gentle and witty personality, in contrast to me, who is gloomy and awkward.”

You end up stumbling backwards, sitting down on the chair behind you and Jinwoo leaned forward, his hands resting on either side of the armchairs— Caging you down as he cocks up an eyebrow, teasing you to answer him.

“Hm?” Jinwoo muses, lifting his hand out to touch your hand— Making you all the more flustered and confused at his actions. “Maybe I should start reminding you some stuff, baby. Your memory has gotten a bit… Foggy.”

He mumbles, lifting your hand up to his lips and kissing your palm, then your knuckles, then to each digit before his gaze swept up to you again. Those intense, grey eyes, boring into your very soul— Piercing every cell in your very being. It was hypnotising, as if you were a snake being seduced by the sounds of a wind instrument.

The way he was hovering above your head, those ebony black locks of his falling forward as he hovered right above you— You could feel tingles starting from the very soles of your feet rising to your very heart that was already thumping so madly.

Oh you knew, you knew,.. you’re in for one hell of a marathon with the monarch.

“I won’t promise I’ll be gentle, and neither will I promise this punishment will only take one night”

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

#sung jinwoo #solo leveling #sung jin woo #only i level up #solo leveling headcanons #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jin woo x reader #solo leveling x reader #ore dake level up na ken #sung jinwoo headcanons #‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆— kyunnie's writings

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onlyseokmins · 4 months ago

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ash and cinders • l.s.m.

Pairing: lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), angst, royalty!au, fantasy!au, gods/goddesses!au Warnings: magic, mentions of blood, war, cruelty, tyranny - all that good stuff, mentions of religion (au-specific), violence (i.e. suggestion of murder), (death) threats, and possible gaslighting ��🏻 which just means a minor power play between them at first okay 😬 i promise it's not that bad lmao i'm just paranoid, lots of making out, oral (fem. receiving), lil bit of temp play tbh, little bit of choking, uh I wrote this so long ago and just finished it so lmk if i forgot anything?? it's just basically me attempting to write prettily uwu WC: 4.24k A/N: soooo, this has been rotting in my drafts FOREVER!!! but yeah seokmin is my most darling, favorite boy i've ever stanned anyways ofc i couldn't help but use his elle magazine photos (yes that's how long this has been ROTTING) ahhhhh - ahem anyways this goes hand-in-hand with Mischief Maker so definitely recommend checking that one out too! heheh <3

He only stayed during the night.

When the blanket of darkness covered even the moon with a hazy layer of clouds, leaving tiny twinkling stars for a traveler’s guide. The fire once dancing in the hearth dwindled down to scarlet embers barely emitting enough heat to fill the large quarters.

Not that it mattered.

Even as you lay naked amidst the silken sheets strewn upon the grand bed, the thought of your lover’s return alone was enough to engulf your body in a flame of burning anticipation that settles and simmers between your legs.

He had been gone far too long. A lengthy patrol around the surrounding territories had taken him away from your embrace. Although every morning the sun’s rays tickled your face as a sweet greeting and bathed you in a radiant light through the day, nights without him were by far the worst.

Cold.

Lonely.

Dark.

On usual accounts, it was a grievous crime to keep the queen waiting. But you would forgive him for anything, wouldn’t you? It’s exemplified in the way he bursts through the doors without so much as a courteous knock that even your most trusted servants must abide by, water droplets dripping from his auburn bangs.

Despite the eagerness to see you as soon as possible, he refused to step foot into your chambers when reeking of blood after fierce combat and soiled with dirt from travel. You always protested. The gilded throne you reigned from, the heavy crown upon your head, and even the bed you shared — all were built upon those very foundations. But your lover insisted on only showcasing the glorious side of things to you.

The gold.

The diamonds.

The luxuries.

All which adorned you by day. Glowing, glistening, and shining. Gems and jewels, fabrics woven from the highest quality quickly reduced to layers that only became a hindrance once it came time for his descent upon you. For you were absolutely beautiful clothed — this he very well knew — but when your whole body was bared naked for him and him alone? You were truly the definition of divine.

Those who dared to speak ill of you tried to foster ridiculous claims. Critical of the wealth in your possession. Mocked what they presumed was a lack of ambition. Wailed that you were a witch. A young monarch on an undeniable downfall to tyranny, one that would lead them all to hellfire and ruin.

Anything to validate that you were not worthy of the royal seal emblazoned across the lands in honor of a valiant leader with a royal bloodline still running through your veins.

Hypocrisy at its finest when you were the reason that they were bestowed or able to retain property linked to their names, money in their pockets, and a legacy to live by under your prosperous reign. Arrogant to cast down the very thing that elevated them to their current standing. But their greed would eventually come back to bite them. One day.

Even the religious sect whispered lowly, hidden in the shadows of the grand temples. Doubts that the king actually held a shred of affection for his partner — if the seldom visits seen visiting your chambers only when night falls were of any substantial evidence to go by. That he only lay with you out of duty, shackled and bound to an imposter who was never a faithful servant to the gods like they were.

Because not one of them truly believed that a god could ever favor, let alone love, a human.

You knew you were a savior to as many as you were also an enemy. A hindrance and a threat. A bold refusal to control or be controlled. There was nothing more to do other than lead your people as fairly as you judged.

All the preposterous assumptions infuriated him — your devoted knight, unorthodox husband, and scandalous lover. But he manages to temper his fiery rage out of respect for you. Behind your ruthless, steely intent is a righteous and kind heart that always calls out for him, now fully vocalized and embellished by the sweet voice he's missed hearing dearly.

“Seokmin,” you murmur, grasping his warm hand once he's within reach.

An entity of many epithets with an existence worth a millennium beyond comprehension and full of worship. Yet his favorite phonetic combination he'd ever heard was the one that fell breathlessly from your lips. The closest the human tongue could get to a god’s true name. And his second favorite would be yours, the syllables rumbling in his chest like a song and you smiled in contentment.

He was back, he was home, and he was yours.

Even in the darkness, Seokmin glowed. The ethereal radiance surrounding the broad expanse of sinewy muscles easily proved his lofty status as the great god of the sun. But it was also his eyes, flickering with the unmistakable presence as one of many deities. The kind of power that has managed to refrain from turning you into ash and cinders.

Whether it's attributed to your resilience, a ruler born to stand out and lead, or an entirely different reason — or a mixture of all — Seokmin isn't really sure. He's not the first to appear in a human vessel nor the last, with at least twelve of his known brothers wandering the mortal world for various reasons.

He wonders if he's the first to bow his head willingly, though, holding back his more devious and destructive tendencies. To pay back tenfold the worship he's received since the beginning of time all to you — a mere human — yet nonetheless, his queen.

The event of swearing his undying fealty feels like it was yesterday. For a being that persists forever, it may as well have been that short ago. Every memory he etches and sears into his mind for eternity consists of you, and only you.

How could he forget? How was he supposed to bury away the confident smirk that graced your lovely lips? Would he ever not recall the first time he bent the knee in such desperation? Not for a trick or as a dark seduction that tumbles into a dreadful demise, a conquest for carnage, and an abuse of his powers. But instead for the good of humanity — however short of an era it may be.

And maybe… for more. One that his heart fears to admit, for it does not beat within his chest, but in a plane beyond the reach of mortals.

"Would you kill for me?"

"For you, anything," the god affirms. "I have laid waste to kingdoms, countries, empires, and even continents themselves. There is nothing I'm incapable of."

"And if I asked you to behead the entire entourage that has traveled with you?"

"… If it is what you will, then it is simply my command to follow. For you, I am a lone knight at your disposal."

Silken skirts flare out as does your anger when you turn away from the large windows in the tower's tiny excuse of a throne room — hardly fit for the heir — showcasing a brief flash of the lethal dagger strapped to your thigh. "Do you wish for my downfall before I've even risen to the throne? You expect me to be a tyrant, despised by the people I am meant to save? To lead?"

"Do you think I, a god, care what thoughts others conjure up in their silly little minds? I am to act on your behalf, get my hands dirty in lieu of you. No matter how morbid your desires may be."

Stepping closer, you lift his chin with the tip of a dull sword intended to be ornamental. But it may be even deadlier than the one hung at his side, metaphorically sharpened and honed by a rebel princess's innate rage.

His little show of bowing means little with the way he stares straight at you without a shred of respect in those galaxy-filled irises. However, it is the mighty sun god who is taken aback by the hellfire burning in your gaze, hungry and powerful enough to rival his own as you scoff.

"I will show you what kind of queen this land needs, the methods we will follow, and the morals I wish to uphold. You will learn in order to understand them and enforce my will. Not only to help guide the vision I desire but to keep me accountable lest I stray. A critical misstep such as that is when I'll ask you to cut me down. Will you swear to do that for me?"

"… You dare question a god of what he can do? Your tiny, impudent human mind couldn't fathom a sliver of my capability."

"I dare to question what you can't or won't do."

"I told you, there is not a thing beyond my realm of —"

"Leave."

"… Your Highness?"

Painted lips curl in a snarl at the first address of your proper title since his arrival. "Begone, I said! Return when you feel like acting like the god you are, not simply a tool to be harnessed and used at will. Until then, I have no need for you."

Seokmin's jaw drops as you seat yourself back on the throne with a sneer and flick of your wrist for the guard to usher him out.

A challenge.

He's been abandoned many times. Discarded and tossed to the side once his usefulness has been expended. He's left before betrayal can even be thought of — for no one points a blade at a god's back — but never has he been rejected.

It was only the beginning of how you would become many of his 'firsts' and all of his 'lasts'.

Seokmin is lost deep in the memory even with the feeling of your lips curling in a gentle smile against his — a stark contrast to your initial meeting. A nail grazes his chin, digging lightly into the skin to fully bring the god back to the present.

You'd be offended by the habitual spacing out if he hadn't admitted to only getting lost in thoughts of you. Something he'd picked up during the routine patrols away. Though you strive to bring the god out of dwelling in the past when you're sitting right in front of him — the present — and deepen the kiss.

Yet he pulls away to tilt his head. "Do you remember what you offered to me?"

"Have I not offered you my all, my king?"

Charcoal lying dormant in the hearth flares back to life, emitting playful sparks when he chuckles. "After I returned to pledge my loyalty to you."

"Ah, even though I had you wait outside the gates for five days."

"Unfathomable for a god to hang around at the whim of a meager human, isn't it?"

"Meager?"

"To me? Yes."

His warm exhale of amusement feels just like the breeze that fondly brushes your cheeks every morning despite the eternal humidity. It may very well be him because no matter how far away physically from you he is, Seokmin's essence radiates in every sunray that stretches across the grand skies and below.

He is everywhere and everything all the time. But he is here with you tonight once again, kissing the palm you'd placed on his cheek. With mischief flickering like a teasing flame in his eyes, the god brings your hand to his throat, encouraging you to splay your fingers across his Adam's apple.

You free yourself from his light grasp to run them ticklishly up and down the bumps of his vocal cords. The movements of swallowing ripples beneath the light scratch of your nails until he halts you by replacing a veined hand over yours and murmurs, "Squeeze."

"Ah — but I…"

He repeats it again louder when you fail to do as asked, not even daring to move a muscle. Simply staring in almost awe-filled hesitation until he guides you to tentatively do exactly as he states, "You would have done anything to strangle me back then, what has changed?"

"… You know what."

"Tell me," he says it like it's a command, eyes brightening and swirling with an authoritative amber hue though it's all in jest. "Tell me what it is, my queen."

Never one to be deterred, only Seokmin could render you motionless for so long. You do as you're instructed, the gentle pressure applied by your hand around his throat causes auburn eyelashes to flutter. The slight restriction to an airflow that isn't all that necessary for a god's survival has his eyes rolling back before they re-focus on you, half-hidden by hooded eyelids.

"Love," you murmur. For it is the answer to everything, is it not?

"Love," is echoed with a resounding voice that doesn't fully come from the tongue of the man beneath you, but bellows out from an otherworldly essence that surrounds the entire world and beyond. And at the same time, he speaks it so fondly because ultimately, he's addressing it as a title for you.

The god of the sun, as immortal as he might be, has died before. Mortal vessels manage to persevere for a fixed number of years and a feeble human body can only endure so much wear and tear. Yet Seokmin's soul still shines steadily onwards despite the memory of death over and over again lingering… and he unsurprisingly realizes that he wouldn't mind dying like this — by your hand.

Was that love?

But the amount of power, energy, and time, along with the unpredictable wiles of the creator would never guarantee him returning to you. Preservation of this human shell was of the utmost importance, the first time he's ever handled a vessel with care before.

Perhaps that was love.

Rather than be swept up in unpleasantries, he entertains the amusing thought of how much fragility you exercise with him. Having already released your grip far too quickly and instead, fiddle with the untied laces on his loose shirt.

"Love," he repeats, this time as a call in a raspy drawl of his own voice.

"Hm. Or maybe it was… pity."

An eyebrow raises and the corners of Seokmin's mouth twitch upward. "Only my queen would dare to pity a god."

"It was for what you were. And who you weren't. I despise those uppity, repetitive displays of unwavering loyalty that either party can easily discard."

"Like the former king's imperial court."

"Yes."

Your angered hiss is exactly the same as the first time you informed him of your plans to take down your father and his cult. The disgust and rage have barely ebbed even after all the progress made for a better future and as many years that have passed.

Seokmin scans your expressions. He's always admired your spitfire that could rival his own flames. But in times when it burns long enough to possibly exhaust or hurt you, he worries. You're strong — he knows that — so many times he simply becomes the safe space where you can seethe aloud without interruption.

"Would you rather grow dull and be poisoned because someone is not even worth keeping an eye on or the thrill of unpredictability? A constant sword dance that keeps each other on their toes, never deviating gazes from one another."

He smirks. "That sounds familiar."

You think back to earlier days with him. A stubborn royal and an even more stubborn deity. When did the challenging, pointed glares at one another change to simmering looks of desire?

Instead of your swords tangling together in an angry clash over a small matter, it was your tongues after a heated sparring session. How condescension switched to respect to something more passionate… more primal… more intimate.

"Perhaps so. But look at you now — look at how you shine."

His skin indeed glows a bit brighter as he melts further into the soft touch of your palm returning to his cheek. Thumb tracing constellations between the pair of moles on his cheek while your other finger follows the nearly invisible scar below his eye.

"Little blemishes," he had once told you, "even the body of a god bears its flaws after fighting on a battlefield."

You thought they only made him all the more perfect.

"And look at how I've fallen."

As if to demonstrate his murmured words, Seokmin moves at the speed of light — his normal pace — to lie on his back, umber strands of hair spread out like flames of fire against the grandiose bed's silken sheets.

Somehow, he'd positioned you on top of him. Much accustomed to the tiny displays of omnipotence here and there, you remain unbothered. Affectionately, you brush back his bangs. Fiery wisps of hair that seemingly move on their own accord with the amount of power that ripples through their thin fibers.

He might just be the most powerful among his fellow deities and you could wield all of that as your own because he sits obediently in the palm of your hand. Lays dociley among your silken sheets. What he's trying to prove to you — the hold you have over him — immediately enthralled under your spell as you play with his locks and softly whisper, "You're Seokmin. My Seokmin."

Despite your bare chest quite literally in his face, the god waits. Fully clothed in soft linens where he can feel every tempting pulse thundering in your precious mortal body on top of his.

And still, he waits.

His hands don't even reach out as you unlace his shirt. Though he has wrecked and ruined your body in a thrillingly sensual, blistering, and passionate heat of love-making before, tonight he gives himself over to you. Vulnerable and all yours for the taking, watching with faint amusement as you impatiently urge him to shed the rest of his garments.

"My queen."

"My king."

"There is no rush. We have all of eternity."

"Do we?" you breathe out and look him in the eyes as your fingers dance along his inner thigh. "Or is it only you, divine ruler of the everlasting dawn and never-ending night?"

"My graceful moon," Seokmin sighs and distracts you from grasping his weeping shaft, urging you to straddle his legs. You follow his will despite the object of your desires lying neglected between your bodies, coating your stomach in the molten saltiness that drips from it.

"My stars, my sky, my galaxy, my universe." Each title of affection is seared into your skin with a burning kiss to brand your body. Your cheek, your ear, your neck, your shoulder, and your hand. "Without you in it, the world ceases to exist."

"My sun, my warrior, my knight, my shield, and my sword." You repeat a version of your own display of worship and what he means to you — mimicking the same actions across his lithe body. "My love, it would do you good to live in the present with me. Must you think of a dire future so soon?"

"Each inhale of life thus returns an exhale of death. I dread every moment that brings me closer to your end."

"Such morbid thoughts you carry, my darling. Where is the fearless god that took a poisoned arrow to the heart and pulled it out without so much as a flinch?"

"You think me weak when I'd take the blow of any weapon as long as it does not harm you."

The irony when you'd both been struck by invisible, non-lethal darts fired from the god of love's feathered bow. But the terrifying memory of Seokmin taking the assassination attempt in your place causes a rare, but true, fear twisting in your gut. The flash of life before your eyes changed the trajectory of your tactics and your relationship with the god. And as always he reassures you with what he knows to be the truth — for the most part.

"Nothing can hurt me as long as you're alright."

"Then make me your goddess in return so that I will be invincible enough to protect you from harm's wrath too."

"But that… you know I can't," he whimpers, "no matter how much I long to."

A tear trickles down his cheek, crystallizing when it falls. Like many before and well after, all bodily fluids of the god will be found transformed as various tiny diamonds and gems. Tangled within the bedsheets the following morning as they always are and stored away in the queen's treasury.

Seokmin cries, not just at his frustrations, but at how you gingerly hold his hot and hardened length. Heavy in your palm that rubs and strokes it lovingly before sinking down with practiced ease, having already stretched yourself out earlier while waiting. Undulating your hips in slow, controlled circles that make him dizzy with desire. Your words pierce his chest, paining him like no sword that sliced him open could ever compare.

"If fate will not let it happen, then bury me in the ground so I can thrive beneath your warm rays that whisper sweet nothings. Let me smile up at you after winter passes while I bloom brilliantly through spring and long into the heated days of summer. Weave my soul among the stars so I may greet you in the morning and kiss you goodnight every evening. Scatter my ashes into the windy gusts of the north and down the silver rivers flowing south so I may laugh and dance in the skies alongside your sunbeams."

He sobs at the poignant emotional tug of your words, every poetry waxed by your breathy voice punctuated by a tantalizing undulation of your hips. You reassuringly clench around him, foreheads and bodies pressed together, hands clasped tightly in each other's grasp.

The god's chest heaves and the mountains on the eastern border shift to the left. Sometimes the air cools when this occurs but tonight, it shimmers and glistens as if straining against his commands. A hot wave that threatens to distort the very seam of reality itself.

"I will always be yours," you kiss the corner of his trembling lips, "and you mine, my darling god."

"My sweet goddess, my everything… my love."

Seokmin's hips buck up anxiously and you let him lead the pace. Wild thrusts take over as he chases that high, wanting and needing to take you over that peak with him. Your body lays prone against him, along for the jostling ride as the god seeks his own pleasure through and with you. Praises and worship fall from his lips, never failing to be in awe of how your cunt molds and works his cock like a blacksmith shapes an iron rod yet he can bully it as he wants to fit him. Only him.

You were made for the god of the sun.

Golden ichor thrums through his veins, lighting his skin in flashes like the sparks of embers. He's beautiful. Otherworldly. Your lips capture each glowing pulse of godliness that erupts beneath his flesh with a tender peck. He's all yours.

And he was made for you.

When Seokmin plunges into your welcoming warmth that is his alone to claim before he finally succumbs, it's blinding. On the other side of the earth, the sun shines a little brighter. A harsh glint that already emits a sweltering heat from its fiery nature flares even hotter in the blue sky. A blessed priestess looks up in contemplation, waving away the worried maidens who tend to her every need.

You feel his large hands — one presses in a bruising hold between your shoulders, the other on your lower back. Keeping you flush against him, holding your body to his while you welcome inside the scorching spurts of his seed within your womb that feel like lava. Your walls flutter around him and he basks in the feeling of them pulsating as you jerk your hips

"Come," he begs out. It's loud and resounding. More of an instinctual command if anything and your body almost obeys unwittingly, unaware of his intent before he lifts you up with inhuman strength and clarifies, "Up here," and sits you on your rightful throne — his face, "where you deserve, the queen of queens. My queen. My love. My goddess."

He laps at you like a dehydrated dog. Both cleaning you up and creating an even bigger mess. Your thighs squeeze tightly around the sides of Seokmin's head, one hand tugging harshly at his hair and the other mercilessly wrinkling the silk bed sheets. His moans are sweet songs of praise but muffled as he sucks his release out of your cunt only to push it back inside with his tongue. The addition of globs of spit accompanying the still-hot, smeared mess causes your own sounds to grow much louder, writhing on top of him from the sloppy sensations.

Back and forth he repeats this a couple of times, the firm point of his nose stimulating your sore clit in his efforts. And finally, you come undone — spasming on top of Seokmin's chin and suffocating him just like he likes. Breathing and drowning in your essence, the very elixir of life.

"I shall make you mine," he whispers later, dutifully laying your deliciously aching but clean body onto freshened sheets. Your lover is ever so attentive, rarely nearly needing the same amount of aftercare he showers upon you.

For he is a god from the heavens to bestow blessings upon his desired mortal.

"I am already yours."

"But for all of eternity, it shall be so."

Satiated and content, you reach for him. He lovingly takes your hand and presses a kiss to the tip of each of your fingers. "How?"

"The Mother. She's the closest thing we have to the Creator and might be older than the universe itself. There's nothing she doesn't know so I'm sure she'll have the answers I seek."

"Must you leave so soon?"

Seokmin smiles as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders. "The sun never fails to rise, my dear. I will be back before you know it bringing with me tidings of great news."

"I'll be waiting."

Your shared kiss is soft and gentle. Sweet and full of sentiment. Indeed, you always wait for him and the sun god leaves with a full heart of hope. Little does he know, and little do you suspect, the true one lying in wait was the shadowed figure holding a poisoned dagger beneath their cloak.

And so, with the death of a queen so loved by the god of the sun… the prophecy begins.

onlyseokmins: September 2024 ©

#ez.creates #svthub #svt.smut #dokyeom smut #seokmin smut #dk smut #lee seokmin smut #lee dokyeom smut #smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut

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olenvasynyt · 22 days ago

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Here's some Prythian lesser fae world-building headcanons because I am so bored of human-looking hot guys with semi-pointy ears and literally nothing else.

Spring has several races of lesser fae that have wings like butterflies. They are the main farmers and bouquet makers for the Spring Court but they were targeted by Tamlin's father before his death.

Spring also has a lesser fae race that are a bit like fawns / satyrs but resemble sheep instead of goats or horses. They have fluffy white wool and ram horns for the males

Many lesser fae races migrate between the seasonal courts based on the season. There are the monarch fae, who migrate between Spring, Summer, and Autumn.

There are also the Kontio fae, who are bear-like lesser fae who travel between courts based on the season. They hibernate in Winter during the winter months, travel through Summer and Autumn on the Spring Equinox to settle in the Spring Court, then they travel to Summer and Autumn perspectively until it's time to hibernate again. They are one of the main lesser fae races in my Lucien backstory fic A Court of Embers and Sunlight :)

Sprites are common in all of the courts, but each court has their own unique variety based on the elements / main features of the Court. Spring has sprites that resemple petals and sleep in flowers; Autumn has sprites that glow like embers and hide in the colorful leaves; Summer has wood sprites and water sprites. Winter has snow sprites with frosty skin. Dawn has fae that only come out during the sunrise and camouflage with the clouds. Day has sun sprites that are completely gold and shine in the sun like jewels. And Night has star sprites that hide in the mountains and shoot across the sky like comets.

Winter has ice giants that hide out in the mountains. These became almost extinct after the Human War, and many believe they no longer exist.

Winter also has snow leopard fae with tails, spots on their white skin, and and fluffy ears that peek out from their soft white hair.

Summer has the Áfruvvá fae, which is a mermaid race that lives on the coast

Night has the Aranrot fae, which is a fae race with beautiful silver skin that glows and sparkles like a star. The race is all female, very stern and independent, and live proud sexual lives. Believed a virgin was an independent female who was answerable only unto herself. Associated with the galaxy.

Autumn and Winter have lesser fae that resemble wood lemmings. They are covered in soft fur, and have small paws with a flattened claw as their index finger. They have terrible eyesight but their sense of smell and hearing are 10 times better than the High Fae. They're called Sopuli Fae in my fanfic :)

These are a small precentage of my lesser fae headcanons and it's one of my favorite things to write. Like come on, it's so fun! Give me more, SJM 😩

#sjm critical #acotar headcanons #acotar headcanon #acotar #spring court #summer court #autumn court #winter court #day court #dawn court #night court #lesser fae #a court of embers and sunlight #dana pinterest / headcanons

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maracujatangerine · 1 month ago

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90. Restless Night

CW: institutional slavery, pet whump, dehumanisation, box boy universe, cursing

Coriander was lying curled up in its own bed. The curtains drawn against the deepening night outside.

The pet’s whole body ached with exhaustion, but still, it couldn’t sleep. The bone-deep fatigue awaking memories of old, bad times.

Every time it tried to fall asleep, its body would start violently awake. Each time destroying any and all progress the pet had made on the way to unconsciousness. It was extremely frustrating.

It heard steps outside the door. Then, the gentlest of knocks.

“Cory?” Miss Lydia sounded hesitant, her voice low. “Is there anything you need? Would you perhaps like something to eat?”

The pet knew that if it just uttered the words, Miss Lydia would come and sit by it, as she had so many times before. It could almost feel the dip of the mattress as she would sit down, the comforting warmth of her body next to the pet, the soothing feeling of her hands gently carding through its hair and caressing its back and shoulders. The pet’s tense muscles would relax then, as if bespelled. Her mere presence would work like a sleeping spell, lulling the pet into dreamland.

Coriander longed for it. Miss Lydia’s presence, and sleep, in equal measure. But the pet couldn’t ask for it.

It was still so. fucking. angry.

…and upset… and scared… and not being a good pet… and sad… and ashamed… and regretful… and exhausted… and in pain… and confused… and still, so angry.

The very reason her presence would affect it, was the same reason it had panicked in the hospital. In this dark moment, the pet thought it might be the same reason it did anything at all. They had shaped it, moulded its responses, formed its actions, to be whatever its owner desired.

The pet considered just pretending to be asleep, but when Miss Lydia didn’t leave, Coriander finally replied.

“N-no, Miss Lydia. This pet just wants to sleep.”

She stood still for a moment outside the door, the pet could imagine her laying her hand against its surface.

“All right, Cory. I will be downstairs if you need anything.”

She tried hard to sound like every other night, but the pet knew her too well. It could hear the undertones of worry and sadness in her voice. After another moment of silence, Miss Lydia slowly turned and walked away.

Thank you all for comments, and reblogs, and likes! I really appreciate you all taking the time! 💖

If you are new to this story, the tale of Lydia and Coriander starts here. There’s quite a lot of it, and I hope you’ll enjoy it! ☺️

I also have another, shorter story in the works that focuses on hero vs villain themes. You can find that here.

Tag List Part 1: @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-em @whumpzone @wh-wh-whu @neuro-whump @carnagecardinal @cowboy-anon @whump-me-all-night-long @redwingedwhump @myst-in-the-mirror @haro-whumps @eatyourdamnpears @bloodsweatandpotato @pinkraindropsfell @whumptywhumpdump @theydy-cringeworthy @whump-in-progress @whumpsy-daisy @nicolepascaline @whumpcreations @briars7 @shiningstarofwinter @whumppsychology @alex-ember @miss-kitty-whumptastic @whumpy-writings @in-patient-princess @youtube-fandoms-bands @goblinchildindabog @mazeish @distinctlywhumpthing @inpainandsuffering @canniboylism @icannotweave @incoherent-introspection @kim-poce @broken-typewriter @the-monarch-whumperfly @whumpers-inc @grizzlie70 @lil-whumper @writingbackwards-blog @sunflower1000 @wingedwhump @thecitythatdoesntsleep @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @onlybadendings @rabass @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning

#pet whump #whump fic #box boy universe #box boy multiverse #lydia and coriander #bbu #pet whumpee #conditioned whumpee #writeblr #writers on tumblr #original writing

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coffeebanana · 2 years ago

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This was supposed to be for the Ladrien June prompt "morning", but I didn't feel like waiting another week or so 😂.

Excerpt:

[CW for grief/mourning and recent character death (Gabriel)]

Adrien cleared his throat. "I...ran into Chat Noir outside. He said he had to go, but he told me..." He took a deep breath, continuing in a whisper. "I know my father's dead." It was the first time he'd said it out loud, and the words came out surprisingly clear. It was only afterwards, when they hung in the awkward silence following Ladybug's sharp intake of air, that he felt like they were eating him from the inside out. Ladybug's grip tightened. "I'm sorry, Adrien. I'm so sorry."

Read on Ao3, or under the cut!! 💜

The rising sun hit Adrien's back as he forced his front door open, its light casting an eerie glow over the mansion’s battle-torn foyer. Half the ceiling was caved in. The staircase was all but destroyed. And scraps of metal amongst the wreckage glinted gold, like the dying embers of a fire. Like the end of an era.

It wasn't the victory it should have been.

As the door slipped from his fingers, Adrien squeezed his eyes shut and stopped to take a few steadying breaths—a dangerous idea. Police officers were still on site, gathering evidence amidst the wreckage. One of them could easily notice him, and then he might get stuck answering their questions. He needed to move. He needed to remember the simple instructions he'd outlined for himself before walking back inside.

Sneak into the kitchen. Grab food for Plagg. Get out.

Run.

He could cover his tracks later. It wouldn't be too hard to find an excuse for Ladybug as to why Chat Noir hadn't come back after he allegedly went outside to recharge. It would definitely be easier than facing her as his civilian self—as Monarch's son—right now.

But hesitation had cost him. "Adrien?"

Ladybug.

Unable to reply or to so much as glance in her direction, Adrien stared resolutely at a piece of rubble by his feet—a piece which he thought used to be part of the bannister. Tears burned the corner of his eyes, but he did his best to blink them away.

He tensed when he heard her approach, something he wouldn't have noticed so quickly if it weren't for the debris scattered about. Any other day, her footsteps would have barely made a sound against the marble floors.

Too soon, her feet stopped in front of him. He struggled to keep his breaths even, fighting to remain upright when it felt like the entire world was closing in around him.

"I...I thought you were at Nino's," she said.

Had he told her that? He barely remembered any of the excuses he'd made last night. It was hard to recall much aside from how he'd awoken a few hours earlier to find his father's body splayed unnaturally across the floor, his vacant stare somehow still bearing traces of disappointment.

The ambulance had pulled away maybe an hour ago, with no sirens to accompany its departure.

Adrien only realized Ladybug was probably waiting for a response when she grabbed his hand, pulling him back to the present with a gentle squeeze. His stomach swirled. Couldn't she have reached for his other side?

She deserved better than the hand he'd used to destroy his own father.

When he finally managed to look up, he only felt worse seeing the sympathy in her eyes. He quickly looked back to his feet, panic drowning out any response he tried to cobble together in his head.

"Has anyone told you what happened?" she asked.

Adrien almost said no—which would be the truth, technically. Nobody had told him, unless he counted the clarifications Plagg had provided after the fact, details of what occurred after Ladybug and Chat Noir fell victim to Monarch's Akuma. Part of him wondered how Ladybug would tell the story, which parts would she soften or leave out. He wondered what she really thought.

But maybe it was better not to know.

Adrien cleared his throat. "I...ran into Chat Noir outside. He said he had to go, but he told me..." He took a deep breath, continuing in a whisper. "I know my father's dead."

It was the first time he'd said it out loud, and the words came out surprisingly clear. It was only afterwards, when they hung in the awkward silence following Ladybug's sharp intake of air, that he felt like they were eating him from the inside out.

Ladybug's grip tightened. "I'm sorry, Adrien. I'm so sorry."

His gut coiled tightly with some unbearable emotion. He tried to think up something else to say, lips parting as he raised his head to look at her. But the second he met her eyes—so wide and blue and sad—speaking was a lost cause.

His lips quivered. A sob clawed its way up his throat, tugging another one up behind it before the first had even broken free. Ladybug's hand rubbed up and down his arm, and that was all the encouragement he needed to finally release the tsunami inside him.

Adrien had killed his own father.

For months he'd been suffering. Adrien had assumed, when Monarch reappeared from his brief hiatus, that he was okay. That the Cataclysm hadn't been fatal. Instead he'd had a front row seat to his demise—to all the times he cried out in pain while cooking breakfast, trying to pretend everything was fine whenever Adrien noticed.

But if it weren't for that Cataclysm, if Monarch's health hadn't been weakened, then the world might have ended a few hours ago, torn apart and rebuilt in his father’s image. With his parents and Nathalie still alive.

How was he meant to feel about that?

He didn't even know where he was supposed to sleep tonight.

But at least Ladybug didn't hate him. At least he still had one friend in this crazy, twisted world.

She pulled him into her arms as he broke down in tears, as he crumpled like the ceiling and shattered like the windows. As he was reduced to nothing but a shaky foundation, to the dying embers of who he used to be.

Adrien and his cold, lonely home finally had something in common.

...

"Here you go," Ladybug said, sliding a mug of tea across the kitchen counter as she settled onto the stool beside him.

Adrien wrapped his hands around the mug. The water was still too hot, but it took him a few seconds to notice. By the time he loosened his grip, his fingers already stung.

"Thanks," he croaked, his throat raw from crying. He wasn't really the biggest fan of tea, but it had seemed to make Ladybug feel better having some way to help him.

The least he could do was pretend she'd succeeded.

For a while they sat in silence. Adrien stared blankly at his tea, vaguely aware of how Ladybug kept shifting around like she couldn't get comfortable.

"Do you...have any questions?" she asked eventually.

He shook his head. None of his questions were for the living.

"Well," she said, "if you think of any later...I'd be happy to answer if I can. And if there's anything else I can do..." She reached out slowly to touch his shoulder, and it was all he could do not to shake her off. "Is there anywhere you'd like to go? Someone you'd like to see?"

Adrien fiddled with the string of his tea bag, watching it bob up and down. "Am I even allowed?"

"What do you mean?"

"To leave."

"Why wouldn't you be?" When he shrugged, her hand slipped from his shoulder. She slid her stool closer. "Adrien, you're not in trouble. Nobody thinks you had anything to do with any of this."

Maybe they should.

Adrien swallowed. "But...don't I have to talk to a social worker or something?"

"Oh. I, um...I don't know. I guess so, but there's nobody here right now, so...I don't think anyone would mind if I took you somewhere else to wait."

He nodded slowly, hand moving automatically to his pocket. He shifted to pull out the lucky charm he kept there, wrapping his fingers tightly around it. "Maybe I could go to my girlfriend's house."

"That sounds like a great idea," Ladybug said, jumping to her feet. "Let's go!"

Adrien remained glued in his seat, his stomach swirling. Seeing Marinette probably would make him feel better—at least on the surface. But how long could that last? Hiding his identity hadn't really come between them since they'd gotten together, but this was different. How could he hide the worst thing he'd ever done?

But what if he told her and she never looked at him the same way?

Ladybug's stool scraped against the floor as she sat back down, and she sounded upset when she spoke. "Do you not want to go?"

Adrien set the lucky charm on the table and watched the beads blur behind fresh tears. "I'm...scared."

"Why?"

"Because...what if Marinette sees me differently."

"Do you really believe she would?" Ladybug asked in a small voice.

He thought for a moment. "No? I don't know. Probably not, but...she could."

She grabbed his hand, and when he glanced her way there was an intensity in her eyes he couldn't interpret. "I'm sure she won't."

"You can't know that."

"But I do! I—she loves you, right?"

Adrien's stomach clenched, but he managed a nod as a hot tear rolled down his cheek.

"Exactly!" Ladybug said, gesturing nonsense with her free hand. "So there!"

He mustered a small smile for her enthusiasm, but it was short-lived. "It doesn't matter," he said, wiping his eyes. "Things are different now."

"Sure. But...that doesn't mean everything has to change, right?"

He didn't answer, trying to ignore the feelings swirling inside him by poking at his tea bag again. The water was cool enough now that it didn't hurt when he accidentally dipped his finger in, but the idea of actually taking a sip and swallowing seemed foreign. So he kept staring at it until a sniffle came from beside him. He turned to see Ladybug with one hand covering her mouth, tears trickling down her cheeks.

"My lady?" he said without thinking, reaching over to set a hand on her shoulder. Panic spiked through him when he realized what he'd called her, but she didn't seem to notice.

"I'm sorry!" she cried. "I didn't mean to...I'm f-fine! It's just that you—I just want to help you! But maybe I c-can't. And it's not f-fair, that you're hurting. And..."

Her next words were drowned out by a sob. She slumped down on the table, hiding her face in her arms. All Adrien could do was sit there rubbing her back until she calmed down, at which point she pushed herself up slowly, wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry I let this happen," she said.

"What?" Adrien replayed her words in his head, certain he'd misunderstood. "It wasn't your fault."

"It was my job to stop Monarch from making the wish, and I...failed. Even if he didn't succeed...someone's still paying the price."

"That's ridiculous." It was his fault.

"Adrien, it's fine. You don't have to..." She drew in a shaky breath. "If you're mad at me, I understand."

None of the morning had felt real, but now Adrien was sure he must be caught in some sort of alternate reality.

Maybe the wish had worked. Maybe his mother would walk into the kitchen at any moment.

If only.

"That makes no sense," Adrien said slowly, still trying to wrap his head around things. "If anything, it's Chat Noir's fault."

Ladybug's eyes went wide. "Did he tell you that?"

How was he meant to answer that? "Not...exactly. But he told me about the Cataclysm, and—"

"Please don't blame him for that. I know he feels terrible enough already."

"Because Monarch's dead thanks to him. It's his fault!"

"It's not," Ladybug pleaded. "He was just following my plan, and Monarch caught us off guard, and then..."

"But...but you..." Adrien trailed off, his body shaking.

He didn't know what to say, because technically Ladybug was right. But he didn't blame her at all, and he certainly didn't want her blaming herself.

"It was my fault," he said, knowing it was true. He felt it with every inch of his body, with every useless breath he took.

The guilt consumed him.

"Adrien," Ladybug breathed. "It's absolutely not your fault. How could you even think that?"

Only once he processed her words did he recognize his own misstep. But she hadn't caught on yet. He could still walk this back.

But he wasn't sure he wanted to.

This secret took too energy much to hide.

"It was me,” he said shakily. “It was my..."

He couldn't finish the sentence. He could barely even breathe. But he could see in Ladybug’s eyes that she still didn't understand, so he raised his hand to mimic the motion, stretching out his fingers the way he would if he'd really called on his power. He tried to mouth the word too, but he wasn't really sure his lips obeyed. Slowly, he lowered his hand to the counter, letting it collapse into a fist when he made contact.

Cataclysm.

He watched as realization slowly dawned on her. Then she blinked hard, shaking her head as if trying to dismiss the idea. But her eyes flew to the ring on his hand, widening further.

“Chat Noir?”

"I did this," he said in a broken whisper. "I killed him."

"Oh, Chaton. No." Ladybug stood, wrapping her arms around him. "It was an accident. It's not your fault."

Adrien thought that maybe, if he kept taking breaths so small they barely counted, if he let his mind float away the way it had been threatening to do all morning, then maybe—maybe—he could keep from crying again. But Ladybug rested her head on his shoulder, her warm breath ruffling his T-shirt. And that was all it took for him to come apart again.

...

They ended up on the floor, wedged between both stools. Adrien wasn't sure if he'd fallen off his seat at some point or if Ladybug had carried him here. He didn't care. As long as he could keep lying here with his head in Ladybug's lap and her fingers in his hair, he could somehow keep the guilt at bay. He could stop it from devouring him whole.

But he couldn't stay here forever.

Marinette's lucky charm was clenched in his fist again, and he was afraid to let go.

"Should I tell her?" Adrien asked.

"Hm?"

"Marinette. Should I..." He closed his eyes. "Do you think she'd hate me if I told her the truth?"

Ladybug let out a shaky breath, her fingers freezing in his hair. "She won't hate you. And...yes. I think you should tell her."

"Okay. Maybe I will."

"How about this?" Ladybug said. "If she breaks up with you, I'll date you instead."

Adrien managed some semblance of a laugh. "What about your boyfriend?”

“Mmm." She twisted another strand of hair around her finger. "Somehow I don’t think he’ll mind.”

“All right then. It’s a deal.”

Her offer was a joke—he knew that. But somehow it still felt like a promise.

"Would you...like me to take you to her now?”Ladybug asked. “I still can, if you want."

"Maybe." He thought of the bakery. Of Tom and Sabine's welcoming smiles, the smell of croissants, and being wrapped up in one of Marinette's hugs. It sounded nice. "Give me five more min—" He broke off in a yawn.

Ladybug laughed. "Or you can get some sleep first." Her voice was gentle and steady and safe. "I'll stay with you."

He tried to reply, but his words were engulfed by another yawn. So he settled for mumbling his agreement, squeezing the lucky charm to his chest, and letting his eyes flutter closed.

Maybe in his dreams, the world wouldn't hurt so much.

#miraculous ladybug #coffeebanana fics #ladrien #angst #hurt/comfort #cw grief #cw character death #miraculeakless #adrien agreste #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #long post #season 5 compliant (up to what's aired so far aka episode 20)

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anodesu · 3 months ago

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Next batch of Swordtember swords!

Day 11: Duel

"Only a heathen would bring a gun to a sword fight!" "And only a moron would bring a sword to a gunfight." - Derek Landy

Day 12-13: Fire and Ice

Ember and Hoarfrost: their barely contained elements are so polarizing it is hard to call them sister blades.

Day 14: Poisonous Monarch and Viceroy. In a fun tribute to Batesian Mimicry in nature, the blade of Monarch is coated in a deadly toxin; Viceroy is simply a finely crafted blade that looks similar. You wouldn’t want to risk it either way, right?

Day 15: Liquid

Rain: a bladeless katana that takes from the elements. Very few have the ability to actually have it form a blade— let alone an edge sharp enough to cut.

#swordtember #swordtember 2024 #I'm tapering off now because my dumb cat had to go to the vet #it's okay he's fine now

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ghanjrho · 1 year ago

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A:TLA; how it should have ended.

Recently, I've been on a deep dive into the A:tLA fandom, specifically the Zutara sphere. And that means I've found a lot of long-form meta on the show, it's ending, LoK, script final drafts, you name it. That's all gone in the brain blender, and here's what came out the other side.

Sozin's Comet honestly doesn't change that much; only two real differences.

The magic rock is gone. Instead, we get a flashback to Guru Pathik, and Aang realizes that he has to let go of his attachment to Katara.

The Maiko/Kataang victory laps in the last 5 minutes are gone. Mai and Zuko get a scene where they wish each other well, but acknowledge that they're over. Katara and Aang have a nice moment where they choose friendship. There's love there, but it's Philia, not Eros.

@burst-of-iridescent has a delightful essay series on Zutara, and the part that sticks in my head is that in the run-up to the finale, Aang and Katara are at their least unified. To wit:

In "The Southern Raiders" Aang is preachy, condescending, and more than a little hypocritical about Katara's plan to take vengeance for her mother. The episode ends with Katara explicitly rejecting Aang's belief that Yon Rha was forgiven.

In "The Ember Island Players" Aang is distraught at the idea that EIP!Katara's statements, namely that Aang is like her brother and she's attracted to Zuko, are true. When he questions Real!Katara about this, he responds to her statement that she's confused about her feelings by kissing her. The kiss is not returned. Again, no resolution is had.

Finally, in "Sozin's Comet Part 1" Katara is part of the chorus condemning Aang for refusing to even consider killing Ozai, no matter how many people are at stake. He runs off from the group, and from there disappears into the Spirit World to get Lion-Turtled. Yet again, no resolution, and the two don't reunite until the tea shop.

Now speaking of the Lion Turtles, I'm actually not opposed to them. Yes, they come out of nowhere to deliver an 11th Hour Superpower that handily spares Aang from having to actually make a choice he disagrees with, but at the end of the day it is a kid's show. Nickelodeon was never going to approve a script where Aang killed Ozai. Throw in a little bit of foreshadowing, and I'm good. It's worth noting here that the story of Avatar Wan was supposed to be covered in A:tLA, which would handily cover that requirement.

Now, for the post-canon. We'll start with Fire.

Zuko is NOT left alone in the Fire Nation. Similarly, Iroh does NOT fuck off back to Ba Sing Se.

Toph and Suki stick around. Suki in her canon role as commander of Zuko's Kyoshi Warrior bodyguard, while Toph and Mai use Toph's lie-detection and Mai's insider knowledge to purge threats to the new peace.

Toph eventually goes back to the Earth Kingdom to start a metalbending academy, but first she needs to make sure that her Sparky lives to be the grumpy old man he was born to be.

While Iroh is correct that for political and diplomatic reasons Zuko needs to be Fire Lord, he also bows to the reality that Zuko is plain and simply not ready to be the Fire Lord.

Zuko went from 4th in line to 1st in line basically overnight, and the 5-ish years he spent as Crown Prince were clearly not spent preparing him to succeed Ozai.

So a teenager with a fairly surface-level understanding of "how to monarch" has to self-Reconstruction the Fire Nation, while paying reparations, without having been militarily conquered.

This is how idealists get assassinated. New Plan!

Zuko is crowned Fire Lord. Iroh is his Prince Regent. It's very clear to all involved that Zuko is the one charting the course forward for the Fire Nation, while Iroh is there to convert intent to action, while teaching Zuko how it's done.

It doesn't hurt that Iroh is one of the Fire Nation's most successful military commanders, so the civil war route is a lot riskier for anyone to attempt.

Next, Sokka

Sokka honestly has a pretty good arc in the post-canon. Nothing I really feel the need to correct.

Eventually, Suki is able to hand off her duties in the Fire Nation to someone else and goes home to Kyoshi Island

It’s still home, but it isn’t the same. Or rather, she isn’t the same.

She never leaves the island behind, but it’s usually a stop on the journey from Wolf Cove to Republic City.

Then, Aang

Aang divides his time between Avatar duties and Last Airbender duties.

Avatar duties involve a lot of sitting in on meetings and reminding people that the ultimate goal is peace.

Last Airbender duties involve a lot of teaching Air Acolytes everything he remembers from his childhood. He gets lucky here, though.

The Airbender Genocide wasn't complete. More than a few Air Nomads escaped the Genocide, and hid themselves away. Some in small villages built in remote mountain valleys, others blended into Earth Kingdom settlements.

Plenty of quarter- or eighth-Air Nomad kids running around with airbending potential they never had the knowledge to develop. Think very early Book 1 Katara here.

The result is that a resurgent Air Nation is being formed, with a culture woven from the threads that survived through relics, the refugees, and Aang himself.

Airbenders are still rare, and it's over a decade before another airbender earns their mastery, but it's not his son and his grandkids when Korra comes around.

Finally, Katara

Katara spends a lot of time traveling. She spends time in the South Pole, helping to rebuild and learning Southern Style Waterbending from the released waterbenders. She also travels the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom, doing what she can to solve problems.

There are a lot of problems to solve.

Her travels in the Fire Nation are particularly fruitful; word of the Last Agni Kai has spread, so she is known to be the one that the Fire Lord sacrificed himself for, and who healed his wound.

She and Zuko stay in contact, allowing themselves to have a slow-burn courtship.

After a couple of years she moves to Caldera City and starts getting down to seriously courting Zuko, preparing herself for Fire Ladydom.

The year before Iroh is set to retire as Regent, she and Zuko start thinking about the wedding.

There are a lot of potential traditions to uphold, even just between the Southern Water Tribe and the Fire Nation

This goes double for the daughter of the head chieftain of the Southern Water Tribe, and the Fire Lord himself.

They decide to have fun with it and do everything.

Aang presides over a private ceremony, family/close friends only, that is really just a mutual declaration of love and friendship.

Then come the Southern Water traditions. It's the full gamut, with ice-dodging, sacred hunts and more. In the end, Zuko is an honorary member of the Southern Water Tribe, and he and Katara are wed (again).

There's a diplomatic tour through the Earth Kingdom, stopping at Kyoshi, Gaoling, Omashu, Ba Sing Se, the Foggy Swamp the former Fire Colonies, and ending at the Northern Water Tribe. The language used artfully slides over whether the couple is newly married or about to be married, but overall it works well for the Fire Nation's reputation abroad.

The final act is in the Fire Nation. A full Royal Wedding, a grand affair of state, held at high noon on the day of the summer solstice. When all is said and done, Zuko and Katara now rule alone as Fire Lord and Fire Lady.

Alright, I have more, but I'm tired. Tune in next time for the Fire Nation (extended) Royal Family! featuring Steambabies (Found here)

#atla #zutara #fixit #fire nation politics #all the weddings #zuko definitely has the mark of the too stubborn to die #its not called that #but still #avatar the last airbender

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kradogsrats · 6 months ago

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Prompt from @dragonprincedrabbles: Ezran + Queen Aditi, No Time Like the Present

G, ~1K words

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The night that Queen Janai officially becomes Aunt Janai, Ezran went to bed very, very late. He'd stuffed himself full of spicy Sunfire cuisine and rich Katolian sweets, all of it so delicious that every time he cleared his plate, he couldn't keep from trying just a little more—not to mention that he might have single-handedly put a visible dent in the mountain of jelly tarts Aunt Amaya had insisted on to honor his mom. He'd also danced until he was completely exhausted, whirled around the floor more times than he could count by Aunt Amaya and Aunt Janai, and then by Callum and Rayla, and by a half-dozen others after, and that was only the beginning. By the time he and Soren finally managed to wheedle Corvus into a dance, the party was really in full swing, and he'd dived right back in.

So in the wee hours of the morning, tired and full and—for just one night, even in the face of Aaravos maybe ending the world—happy, Ezran fell asleep.

He didn't know how long he slept before the space behind his eyes began to lighten, as if the sun crept across his sleeping face. He rolled over to escape the intruding light, but it did not dim—instead growing brighter and brighter. He could make out a figure striding toward him, not silhouetted against the brilliant light but made from it, part of it. The light continued to brighten, and for a moment the figure became too bright to look at, forcing Ezran to squeeze his eyes shut and raise a hand to block out the glare.

When he cautiously opened his eyes again, an elf stood before him, dressed in the manner of Sunfire royalty. Her brown skin was a shade darker than his own, and the thick braids of her hair glowed like embers, auburn shifting into gold where light shone through the strands. The golden armor layered over her blood-red tabard shone no less for being battle-worn, cleaned and polished with attentive care. A crown sat on her brow like a sunrise, and a crystal-topped scepter hung from her hand like a ray of light piercing some shadowy place. Something about her face was familiar, in the strong point of her chin and the almond shape of her golden eyes.

"Finally, we are able to meet—I was beginning to think dawn would greet your revels, first." Her lilting voice carried a warm note of humor, and her eyes crinkled slightly when she smiled. Ezran couldn't help but smile back.

"I... apologize for my lateness?" he offered, raising his hands in a sheepish shrug. "I didn't realize I had an appointment."

"I have waited a long time to speak with you, orphan king," she said, still smiling. "Long enough that having waited a few hours more matters little. With my daughter's daughter's daughter and your own blood-kin bound by love in the light of the Sun, I may now greet you properly—as my nephew. I am Queen Aditi."

Aditi. The beloved, long-ago Sunfire queen, a guiding light to elves and dragons alike. So powerful and wise that she was called to divine the true dragon monarch when the throne stood empty—then vanished, just as Aaravos's plans threatened to come to fruition.

"Your Majesty," Ezran said politely, placing his hand over his heart and inclining his head in respect.

She laughed, a low, rich chuckle. "Please, we are family, now—there is no need for such things."

"Would it be 'auntie,' then?" he asked impishly. Despite her imposing appearance, he liked her. "Auntie Aditi?"

"I admit, I like the sound of that." Her smile didn't fade, but a flicker of sadness passed through her golden eyes. "I saw so little of my daughter's life—I would have liked to know her children, and their children."

"Then why not talk with Janai?" Ezran asked. "She leads your people now, and I know she'd welcome your counsel." He winced at his own clumsy words, waving his hands. "Not that I don't! I'm just—why me?"

"Janai may doubt her footsteps, but they are guided by her heart, and that is truer than any counsel I could offer. Given the chance, she will become a great queen—far greater than I." Aditi's expression turned grave. "That she will have that chance is what I am here to ensure."

"I don't understand."

"Your path has been set to cross with with a great darkness. The choices you make in facing it will shape the future of both our peoples."

Ezran swallowed hard. "Aaravos."

"Yes... and no. He is the point on which this age will turn, for good or ill, but you are called from beyond. Yours is the flame that can forge the ruins of a fallen star into the brilliant sun that dawns on a new world. The future must be different than the past, or all will be lost—but you already know that." She tapped his crown lightly with the crystal of her scepter. "Just as you already know a thing or two about forging peace and hope from violence and pain."

Ezran lifted the crown off his head to look at it, running his fingers along the smooth edges of the steel. His father's sword, now his own burden of blood and history to carry—or to release. "Will I make the right choices?"

"I can only tell you this: do not be afraid to show mercy, but defend what you love without regret. Understand the need for sacrifice, but cleave hard to what you know you will not give up. Most of all, what others see by the shadow of Moonlight, you must choose to see in the full light of the Sun—even if it means your eyes no longer meet."

She touched a hand to his cheek, warm and soft. Despite all the regal pride of her appearance, she radiated the affection of a mother and a sister in one. "You are strong, brave, and wise. You will feel all the darkest sorrows of love and all the brightest joys of loss, and your light will not be dimmed. When the time is right, that light will be what leads the whole world."

"How?" he asked. He didn't feel particularly strong, or brave, or wise—just small, and worried, and confused. "When?"

"I have found," she said, her grin blazing so bright that Ezran had to shut his eyes again, "that when it comes to forging the future—there is no time like the present."

He woke to the first fingers of dawn creeping across the floor of his tent, and the ghost of a warm hand on his cheek.

#the dragon prince #aditi #ezran #this was one of my other favs of the intro prompts batch #kradogsfic

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miryum · 2 years ago

Text

Foundling Villa- Chapter 10

Royal!Charles Leclerc x Reader. Princess Y/n is arranged to marry Prince Charles. There will be many ups and downs that the author hasn’t planned out yet, but read along to find out more! (Yes, I know that sounds super cheesy) Warnings per chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

Tag list: @notleclerc @sunsumonner @saturnsrinqs @livster

Warnings: death, funeral

ao3 link next chapter>>

King Hervé’s funeral was elegant. That much you could say. Whether it was what he would’ve wanted, you didn’t know. Even though you didn’t know King Hervé well, from the few encounters you had, he had seemed like a compassionate and gentle man.

Before your wedding, you had read up on the history of Enza, and found that King Hervé had been the one to push Enza into modern times. The economy had grown, the people had prospered, and his family was happy. Suffice to say, the kingdom of Enza had taken a blow with his death.

Even if you didn’t know the person who died, it was still depressing to be around the people who did. The air of death was prominent and it pulled you down with it. You and Charles had returned to Enza’s palace and Charles quickly found his place within the arms of his mother. You were left to float around the palace, unsure of what to do. You were only Enzan by marriage and Charles only a royal spare, so you didn’t need to be involved in the lengthy meetings that were happening around the clock. Maybe if Charles was first in line you would be pulled in, but alas, you were left alone.

King Hervé’s passing had brought other monarchs to Enza to express their sorrow, pay tribute at the funeral, and pledge their allegiance to the new King, Lorenzo. Because of the influx of wealthy people, the rooms of Enza were quickly filled up. You and Charles agreed to share a room so more people could come to mourn his father.

Queen Pascale didn’t tell you that there were more than enough rooms for you and your husband to sleep separately.

You didn’t remember the funeral; it was more like a grey cloud in your mind. What you remembered was Charles standing next to you, head bowed and eyes full of tears. You remembered Queen Pascale’s black dress and veil and the flowers surrounding the casket. But the priest's words were lost on you. You mumbled the prayers in a resounding mass with everyone else, but you didn’t comprehend the words. Later, you felt guilty, as if you personally offended King Hervé by not embracing the prayers. But you knew that his family had likely done the same. You would look over to see Charles as a still statue, eyes fixated on the casket as if he could raise his father from the dead just by wishing hard enough.

Once the funeral ended, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Enza needed a king, and fast. Coronation plans were thrust before Lorenzo and you felt bad for the poor boy. The only reminder of King Hervé’s death was Queen Pascale, wandering the halls in her mourning clothes.

One night, after chatting with Este, you went back to yours and Charles’ shared room. You were surprised to find it pitch black. The curtains, which usually allowed in an inkling of light, were tied tightly shut. The fireplace embers had long since died and you couldn’t help but wonder if they died the same time King Hervé did.

You shuffled towards the windows, intent on opening the curtains. Your eyes hadn’t adjusted yet and you were worried about knocking something over. Just as you reached the window, movement caught your eye.

Charles was wrapped around himself in bed, a mountain of blankets crushing him. It dawned on you that this was his doing; he was the one to shut the curtains and kill the fire. His father’s death was finally catching up to him.

You weren’t sure if you should intervene, but you couldn’t leave him there with his thoughts. Loneliness would only make it worse. "Charles? Can you talk to me? You shouldn't be alone."

The room was dark with the overhang of death in the air. "He can't be gone," you heard Charles mutter. "How can the world keep turning without him?"

"Because there's still more to live for." You sat on the bed and the lump of blankets shifted. Finally, your eyes adjusted to the darkness and you could see Charles gazing up at you, tears blurring his eyes.

"Y/n, I can't." Charles tried to plead with you. The sharp, unbelieving pain had subsided into a deep ache in his gut. It was like sadness consumed him, forcing him to wallow in it forever. The reality that someone could leave you forever had not set in yet. How did people cope? How did people grieve? How could someone go on living while someone else is dead?

"Charles, may I give you a word of advice?"

"Please do. Anything." Charles curled into himself even more, if that was possible.

"A famous poet once said, ‘Not a whit, we defy augury. There is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow. If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to come, it will be now; if it be not now, yet it will come. The readiness is all. Since no man of aught he leaves knows, what is 't to leave betimes? Let be.’” You shifted so you were against the headboard, legs outstretched. Charles lay next to you. He twisted to face you.

“I’m not ready to let be,” he whispered.

“That’s okay.” The majority of you screamed not to, but the tiny side prevailed. You let a hand drift down to his hair and started combing through it, drawing circles on his temples and cheeks.

Charles closed his eyes. “I like it when you call me Charles,” he said.

You exhaled a laugh. “You told me.”

“I just thought I should remind you.”

“Thank you for doing so.”

Charles let himself relax into the bed and your touch. The two of you stayed there for a long time. You felt content, yet terrified. You thought, this shouldn’t feel like home.

As a direct opposite to the King’s funeral, Lorenzo’s coronation was a swirl of colours, laughter, and dancing. True to tradition, all the Leclerc brothers wore a dash of black for their deceased father and Queen Pascale still donned her black gown and robe, but you would’ve thought that the party was one of the liveliest had it not been for those factors.

Your own dress fell elegantly to the floor and Este had brushed aside customs to place you in a deep green gown. Este had said, “so many people in Enzan colours. Ah, you have to stand out!” He had then placed a silver tiara on your head, woven into your hair to insure it didn’t fall.

The feast afterwards, even though it was held in a grand hall, felt suffocating. Dignitaries and royals from all the kingdoms in Formuline joined you that evening. Your own parents stayed far away from you, and for that you were thankful. Charles made sure to always have an eye on you in case anything was to arise.

As the evening was winding down, you found yourself in the company of a knight, Daniel. He made you laugh like no other and even introduced you to other lords and advisors you recognised as Charles’ confidants.

“Princess Leclerc?” An accented voice came from behind you and your insides fluttered at your new surname. You twirled around, expecting to find another friend of Charles’. Instead, your smile faltered when Prince Verstappen came into your view.

“Prince Verstappen.” You lowered your head in an informal bow. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I was wondering if the princess would grace me with a dance?” He held a hand out and the aristocrats around you fell silent. Lord Carlos slipped away to find Charles.

“It would be rude to say no.” You placed your hand in his.

The dance was awkward at first. You were acutely aware of the eyes on you, including the protective ones of Charles who had quickly located you after Lord Carlos whispered the situation to him. Charles couldn’t simply break up the dance- it would be considered militant and pugnacious. He would have to be content to wait and swoop in the moment the dance ended.

“Princess Y/n, I’m sure you’ve guessed that I have an ulterior motive for dancing with you,” Prince Verstappen said. His eyes carefully scanned the room, never once looking down at you.

“Yes, and I would like to know what it is.” Your reply was curt.

“Williams was a close ally to Redull until recent circumstances. My father was always fond of yours, and in turn, I was of you and your siblings. Don’t take this harshly, Princess, but I would… suggest that you take a trip to Aston or Alpine- somewhere far away from Redull and Enza. I encourage you to tell all whom you love to do the same.”

“Prince Verstappen, I’m sorry to say, but I don’t understand.” You shook your head. You wanted to step back and off of the dance floor, but you felt like you had an obligation to hear him out. His words were confusing and worrisome.

“I’m not even supposed to be here,” Prince Verstappen continued. “My father didn’t want anyone from Redull to attend the coronation, much less the pledging.” He was referring to when the other kingdoms pledged allegiance to the new King Lorenzo.

“Oh?”

“But a total surprise isn’t fair to you, nor Enza’s people. You’ll do the best you can to stay out of the cross-fire, yes?” Prince Verstappen glanced down at you. His eyes were stern. At some point in his life, they probably held happiness and hope, but those times had long passed.

Before you could reply, the music swelled to an end and Charles strode towards you. Your husband placed a hand on your lower back and glowered at Prince Verstappen. “Are you alright, Y/n?” he murmured in your ear. You nodded and turned into him. Prince Verstappen bowed and excused himself. You peered after him.

There was something he wasn’t telling you, and it didn’t sound good.

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