#I TOLD YOU ROYAL AUS ARE MY ABSOLUTE BABY

[emry-stars-art]

tell us about the royals au!!! (im on my knees. please.)

Ohhhhh my friend you have started me on a RANT I hope you’re ready!!!

I don’t know that I’ll ever actually write it so I’m not too worried about spoilers, and the wonderful people in my dms (which are still open btw) bouncing ideas with me are always going to come up with great ideas so I’m putting WIP in big red letters, things are subject to change! But for now, some ideas. Most of what I have will be under the cut, but if you want to know more about a specific part/have any questions please I’d love to chat :D will link to the art/posts I have so far!

(In this au I’ve been referring to Neil as Nathaniel at first and then Abram (hello names as a plot device), and everyone else right now is some version of their name)

Kevin and Nathaniel were raised at Evermore castle, Kevin to be in direct competition to Riko/see which of them might claim the throne (not thought out yet), and Nathaniel as the Moriyama’s attack dog, born and raised to take his father’s place as such. The two never met in person, but Nathaniel knows and recognizes Day because of course he does, and Day knows the name Wesninski means a very, very dangerous person. Essentially the top assassin on the continent.

But as we do, Day decides he can’t/won’t handle the treatment anymore, whatever the last straw may be, and runs off to Palmetto in a kind of desperate chase of the stories his mother used to tell him when he was little. He knew she loved that kingdom. Somehow he finds Wymack - the twin’s royal advisor - or Wymack finds him, and once Wymack realizes who this kid is and has reason to believe he’s not here on Evermore business, he puts Day’s incredible talent and training as a tactician/commander to work as his pupil.

Meanwhile Nathaniel is still at Evermore, mistreated and learning from his own failures and mistakes until he’s nearly as good as his father at the family business.

I don’t know how long Nathaniel plans it, but he either plays the part for long enough or his skill is so undeniable that when the Moriyamas have plans for the Palmetto Kingdom, they send him and one other accomplished fighter to kill the king. Nathaniel goes quietly and decides he’s not coming back if he can help it.

So instead of killing the young king, Nathaniel’s panic has him turn on his partner at the very last second, stopping them just before they can get to the king. He takes them somewhere far away and does what he does best, leaving no one to report back to the Moriyamas. From then on it’s a waiting game to see how long the family will wait before they send someone after him.

Day’s followed them, and Nathaniel turns around from the body and sees this man he hasn’t seen in years, alive and safe away from Evermore. It’s as elating as it is crushing - because Day heard his partner call him by name, and there is no way Day will ever let a Wesninski walk away alive. Not if he knows what’s good for all of them.

Except Day doesn’t kill him, even when Nathaniel asks him to. (Better Day than Riko, Nathaniel knew that even when they were all stuck at Evermore). Instead, he takes Nathaniel back to the twins/Wymack, gives him a little bread, and they sit until he can pry out an explanation. (See the comic of this first meeting here.)

Day and Nathaniel spend most of their time together because Day refuses to let Nathaniel out of his or Wymack’s sight until he proves not a threat to the royal family, which proves an issue because between Andrew’s rotation of personal guards (he never gets along with them well enough that they stay/aren’t fired) Day is Andrew’s guard, which sometimes means Nathaniel is stuck a lot closer than Day would like. But after a long, long time, Day and Wymack decide Nathaniel was serious about the whole “runaway” thing and isn’t playing spy (maybe there’s some dramatic event/Nathaniel protecting a twin that convinces them or maybe it’s just a lot of little things over time). Andrew, after a rough spat with the latest guard, is again in need of a new one. Finally Day just asks “is there ANYONE you could possibly pretend to get along with that can do the job” and Andrew knows Nathaniel is dangerous he just doesn’t know exactly how or why (but oh he is curious) so maybe he just straight up says. “Wesninski.” And Day has to go “…. Fine.”

So boom. They knew each other superficially before, but now Andrew and Nathaniel are spending most of their time together and miraculously - no arguments. No spats. Day thanks the gods there’s no physical altercations (that’s probably what got the last guard fired so quick). Nathaniel is just a mystery with shady ability to tell the truth and Andrew can’t help his curiosity. Good old fashioned andreil :D

From here the timeline becomes essentially nonexistent, I have no idea when these things happen in relation to each other but so far they’re all things I like and want to include!

1) there’s plenty of games and competitions at Palmetto, we love a good tussle, and Nathaniel usually does quite well - he’s not good at playing fair, but his underhanded methods are not technically illegal and usually he can use his preferred weapon - dagger rather than sword. He does well except for the one time an opponent accidentally says/does something that was constantly said or done to Nathaniel while “training” at Evermore, and he comes back to Andrew and the tent he watched from in the beginning of a panic attack. Andrew doesn’t know anything about Nathaniel’s past at this point, but he knows a panic attack when he sees one. In trying to talk him through it, Andrew realizes that yes Nathaniel is scared of being hurt, but he’s more afraid of hurting others. Nathaniel won’t let Andrew call him by name, he flinches every time Andrew says it. After, Andrew asks what he should call him instead, and Nathaniel finally asks to be called Abram.

2) Balls! Masquerades! Abram doesn’t have many outfits, he wears the regular issued uniform to every event. Andrew will not stand for this. Abram always wears clothes that cover him fully, which is fine, Andrew can work with that. He’s still seen Abram in a tight shirt or two. So he commissions one of the most knowledgeable people in the court (we’re thinking it might be Allison, she’s a noble but she’s great with textiles/embroidery/etc) and gets Abram a new outfit. It still covers him, its still protective material, but it looks better. (Find Abram in a corset here). Andrew handles it totally normal and rational in his head when he sees Abram actually wearing it of course.

3) Day probably assumes for a little while that Andrew and Abram have got a more or less normal guard/charge relationship, even thinking it’s slightly antagonistic considering this is Andrew we’re talking about. (This doesn’t fit the timeline, but here’s a mini comic of one of Day’s misunderstandings hehe)

4) king Aaron! He became king at 18/20/whatever age we decide this universe deems old enough because he is in fact the elder twin here. I imagine their parents have both been dead and gone for at least a few years at this point. Dan is Aaron’s guard and she and Abram hit it off great as coworkers and friends. More on the uncertainty of the twins backstory later. (Drawings of Aaron and his queen Katelyn here!)

5) the angst. The Moriyamas should have heard from the Wesninski boy months ago - something somewhere went wrong. So, naturally, they go to collect their property. If they get away with it, we can imagine how it goes. What I don’t know is if the twins, Day, and Wymack know for sure he was kidnapped or if they have a little nagging in the back of their head that wonders if he’s only run away from the castle or if he’s run back to Evermore with everything he’s learned.

When he’s recovered, Day doesn’t let Andrew too close too often for a while. If Abram forgets where is for even a second too long - waking up from a nightmare, having a flashback - it’s long enough for it to be fatal to whoever might get too close to Abram. It’s already almost proved fatal for Andrew, after Abram played normal so well that Andrew let it slip - he forgot Abram was taken back to Evermore for them to finish making him into a thoughtless weapon, and they’d nearly succeed. He wakes Abram too quickly and ends up extremely lucky Abram recognizes both his voice and the way Andrew didn’t call him ‘Nathaniel’ or ‘Wesninski’. There’s really a huge amount to possibly be covered about this point so I won’t go into detail here - but if you like hurt/comfort you know where to find me 👀

6) the biggest thing we haven’t figured out is Andrew. Either he was kidnapped at a young age and only recovered in his teens, or the elder King Minyard didn’t much care for his second son. Though I’ve always liked the idea of Mr. Minyard being a good man who died shortly before the twins’ birth and their mother just couldn’t handle the grief or knowing that the twins look like him. Anyway a lot of the twins’ issues after both of their parents are dead are the advisors or other people around them that try to take advantage of their youth and inexperience for their own gain, without realizing that both Aaron and Andrew have had to grow up much too fast, each for their own reasons. They can usually see right past the tricks. It’s why they both trust Wymack so much - he’s one of the few adults that are truly there to help them, and not make decisions for them.

Im sure there’s more I missed, but this is long enough as it is lol. People have asked about the Trojans/Jean in this au, and I’d love to include them! My brain’s instinctive response is that Jeremy is some sort of high end noble/royal of a faraway kingdom, and Jean (always last to leave the nest, im so sorry baby) somehow gets over there, but I don’t have an idea of his or anyone else’s roles yet. Renee could even still have a hand in him getting there if we really want.

So I’m still writing snippets and drawing over here lol but i promise I don’t bite if you want to talk :D

[salty-ironstrange-shipper]

Hi. I saw this post asking for a fic that changed one's brain chemistry. Now there are a lot of fics I like; over 2000 bookmarked on ao3. And a lot of fics I love; I have 400+ of those fics tagged 'fave'. Of those 400, there are only around two dozen I would say legitimately changed me as a person. 1% changed the way I saw relationships and the world, changed the way I read and write. And I couldn't narrow it down to one - or ten - and didn't want to dump in OP's tags. So have this list of fics that permanently changed who I am as a person.

Warning: I love long fics, and some of these are the same specific tropes that I love or that really affect me personally (ex. arranged marriage). Expect angst, and especially angst with a happy ending. That said these fics are all objectively amazing.

(sorry to people who don't like long fics, but we are simply not the same. and that's OK.)

listed in order of fandom, then length.

Banshee In A Well - 43k, complete, DC, Tim Drake. Childhood trauma, childhood trauma, came back wrong/can't stop coming back! Tim is a little FREAK and I luv him.

straight on 'til morning - 102k, complete, DC, timkon/Kon-El. This is within the niche genre that for some reason appeals to me specifically, of characters having a LOT of feelings about sex and dealing with it poorly.

variations on a theme - 5k, complete, MCU, ironstrange. This is one of the fics that made me truly love ironstrange. Stephen sees through millions of possibilities and in doing so, falls in love with Tony. Evocative, beautiful, succinct.

The Art of Losing - 33k, complete, Red White and Royal Blue, firstprince. This fic made me cry. This fic BROKE MY HEART. And I WENT BACK TO IT. Multiple times! This is a breakup fic that breaks you down then puts you back together. You will come out different, and only you can say if it's for the worse or the better.

With so much of my heart (that none is left to protest) - 65k, complete, Red White and Royal Blue, firstprince. There are so many firstprince fics that essentially translate the events of the book into a different setting. And I love all of them. (My own fic, then fucking have me, also does this, self plug self plug self plug). I had to narrow this selection down to just one, and this is probably my absolute favorite.

You Don't Have To (Say Yes) - 192k, complete, Star Trek, spirk/Jim Kirk. This is within the niche genre that for some reason appeals to me specifically, of characters having a LOT of feelings about sex and dealing with it poorly (yeah, again).

THE MARRIAGE OF TRUE MINDS - 262k, complete, Star Trek, spirk. Star Trek arranged marriage epistolary fic. I read this 4 years ago, and I STILL think of a line from this fic constantly (we're aligned, we're aligned, we're aligned). If you don't read anything else for the rest of your life, read this.

DON'T THE WAVES PULL THE SAND? DON'T THE MOON PULL THE TIDES? - 58k, complete, Star Wars, finnpoe. I don't even go here. And yet. And yet. This is within the niche genre that for some reason appeals to me specifically, of characters having a LOT of feelings about sex and dealing with it poorly (yeah, AGAIN).

Not Part of the Plan - SERIES, 8 works, 337k, complete. Supernatural, destiel. This is an arranged marriage fic au series, that started with a oneshot pwp, and somehow grew into a sprawling, world and character building EPIC. And that to me is always a marker of quality. You KNOW it's good if the author couldn't stop themselves.

wander your own land - 379k, incomplete, Yellowjackets, shaunajackie and others. I told you I like long fics. Girl survival situationships, cannibalism, jealousy, cabin fever, hallucinations, trying to keep a fucking baby alive in some of the worst possible circumstances.

Infinite Variations of a Summer Day - 76k, complete, X-Men, Pietro Maximoff. I love Pietro, he is one of my favorite characters of all time, and this is such a great character fic. See Pietro slowly driven insane in a time loop that examines his relationships with himself, his team, his family, and his powers.

drop your own recs in the notes. and if you have any suggestions for griddlehark/the locked tomb, pLEA- *gunshots*

[qunaricatnip]

Hiiiii it's me the person who reblogged your post about the Cousland x Loghain marriage (this is my main blog but 99% of my tumblr activity is through my side blog queenmelisende sorry for the confusion lol). Lets talk about Ferelden nobility. Their marriage would be an insanely good political alliance -- the two teyrnirs of Ferelden uniting? Cailan should be quaking in his boots. You said she would eat him alive??? I am desperate for more elaboration.

hi!! this is a sideblog too so no worries! but yeah cailan absolutely should be worried but the best part is, at least in my little au, he’s like…. 12 when all this is happening so all he really knows is that uncle loghain is leaving him (and anora) and it’s gonna be a while before they can see each other again :( it’s really maric that should be worried (and is) because he had to make a lot of concessions to the couslands for bryce and eleanor to be okay letting their baby girl go clean up maric’s mess (even if she really wanted it for spite reasons).

Tl;dr siobhan cousland was planning a coup from jump because she was raised to be queen and got told no and then maric dropped the perfect opportunity in her lap with a bow and his blessing, loghain was both collateral and a prize

siobhan in this au was born before the occupation technically ended and so her parents, still in the rebellion mindset of “ferelden first” was sort of groomed to believe that she’d one day be queen of ferelden because she’s the only noble girl within marrying age of cailan right up until anora is born and maric and/or rowan lose their minds. the couslands are Important, second to only the royal family and that shows in siobhan’s upbringing- she’s very politically minded, everything is duty/responsibility/optics with her and that’s something that (imo) would and should drive loghain crazy.

Politically on paper, her and loghain are an amazing match after celia dies right up until we remember that a) the couslands have already married their son and heir to a well known/regarded antivan trading family creating ties to a foreign, unallied country without the crowns express permission right after a war and b) loghain for all his accomplishments is not a man made for politics in any capacity that man is a Follower, he’s the type of person that need to be wholly devoted to a person/cause and c) uniting the only two surviving teyrnir’s is actually a recipe for disaster because oh my god why would you even think that maric that’s giving your subjects too much power and influence even with ferelden’s weird political structure

and siobhan knows this!! she knows that the people of gwaren don’t feel safe or supported by their teyrn and abandoned by their king and she’s also been personally slighted by the crown twice now!! so she graciously concedes to step in and throw the weight of her name around to build gwaren back up to the prominence it once had before the occupation gutted the city all while subtly reminding people that it was the couslands that actually care about the people of ferelden, its cousland gold bolstering the economy, its cousland trading partners bringing ships back into port without even saying anything because she’s a mac tir now after all that would just be gauche to rely on her maiden family name. its siobhan that runs the show and every single person in gwaren knows it, loghain is just insurance in the beginning (before whoops they’re actually in love your honor)

[kanos-blorbos-archive]

Hello I'm back on my 6.30 am train delirium this night I dreamt about Ghastly so you're getting fantasy au Ghastly today

Christ I love her so much fr, she's always her arrogant violent authority-disobeying woman but this time she's a paladin, not just A paladin actually but The Paladin, so I mean the Major Paladin of the human kingdom, if y'all are asking Kano wtf r you talking about what does it mean, basically let's start from the beginning paladins are both political/military and religious figures in all kingdoms, they took an oath to protect first their fellow faithfuls and secondly their citizens, a minor paladin is one that took an oath and is serving the god and most probably also in the army while the Major Paladin is most likely a minor paladin who, for their qualities, has been chosen directly from their god to be their champion, in fact Major Paladins are also called Champions, there can be only one Champion at a time btw

Anyway so Ghastly became Atoq's Champion (Atoq being the god of sun and also the most important god of the human kingdom btw) almost by accident because, aside from her strength and bravery, she has none of the qualities you'd seen in earlier Sun Major Paladins, and while Atoq is aware of it, it's best to have her as a champion than to let anyone else have her as their champion, anyway she became the Major Paladin by accident, she took the oath in first place because of a loophole, basically you need to be 18 to join the army, but also the army by law has to allow anyone who took an oath of one of the main kingdom gods, with few exceptions, so, since she wanted to join the army, but was still 16, she took the oath and basically speedran the required feats to actually be blessed as such, and not too many years later the Major Paladin died, and so she was chosen as the new Major Paladin

That at first had a little backlash because the Sun Major Paladin is also the head of the royal guard and in case of war, holy or not, is the first person with the right to lead the entire army, and Ghastly clearly won't do any good in that position, she's still the head of the royal guard, but another person has been chosen as the leader of the army in case of war, plus her right to speak for the king has been revoked, because she's very foul mouthed and can't keep her cool

Ough this is being a very long post but i cannot not mention that another reason of backlash was her son, well, adopted son at least, once on a scouting mission, she found a baby demon that was abandoned, and decided to raise it as her own, baby Endrake is safe but not from the trauma of the war crimes he saw Ghastly commit, the problem with this though is that the human kingdom has been at war with the demon kingdom for ages and people are generally somewhat wary of demons and saw Ghastly as somewhat of a traitor, this of course before her war crimes against certain races, demons included, were told and made public, just to reassure the public that Endrake is literally just a child and Ghastly absolutely hates demons

Ok theres a lot more on her but this post is being incredibly long so until next time, byeeeee

[softly-savage-mint-yoongi]

Smoke & Mirrors

Pairing: Changbin x f.reader Genre: Supernatural AU Prologue Date: February 3rd, 2023 WC: 4957. Warnings: cursing, conflict.

Well, fuck. “Maximum effort,” I say aloud, kicking a minuscule pebble from the walkway in front of me. I’ve been alive for nearly a thousand years, but I’ve never fucked up as royally as this. Not that I regret it! I think as a scowl settles on my brow. I did what had to be done, consequences be damned. I’m a man of principle after all, and I was protecting everyone. Doing my job to protect my home and my brothers. Yeah, I may have accidentally made a mess of things, but I shudder to think what catastrophic shitstorm would be occurring right now had I not taken the shot. It’s my own mess to clean up. Besides, I’ve still got my powers. Just before Chan was forced to banish me, he told me what to do. It makes my stomach flip uncomfortably to recall his face, just hours ago. The tears welling in his eyes and the way he scrunched his blood-covered nose and gnashed his razor sharp teeth to get the words out. “Changbin… brother,” he cursed under his staggered breath, “I hereby, banish you to the mortal realm.” I tried not to react much, aware it was probably coming, but it didn’t hurt any fucking less to hear it. My face tensed with a disappointed sneer, and I blinked away the wetness in my eyes. Chan looked at me with panic, “The only way you can return is to find a human born at exactly midnight on the first day of the year, and sacrifice them under the light of a full moon. You must do this to regain your place.” “The fuck does that have to do with anything?” I angrily snorted, entirely puzzled at his seemingly random words of wisdom, in a frenzied whisper as they may be. Chan closed his eyes, grinning just slightly one more time at my snarky attitude, “They are the purest souls.” I guess he had a point. In the here and now I close my eyes, and wonder if he can hear my silent message. It’s not his fault, he shouldn’t beat himself up over it, and I will fix this. No matter what it takes. With my shoulders squared, I start wandering. I’ve got no idea where I am, but the busy world around me and language I hear gives me a clue. Perks of being Numen, we know every language, so getting around shouldn’t be too hard. Now, I just gotta find the purest soul I can so I can get back home. At least that stunt I pulled didn’t let the worst of Evil out. __________ It takes minutes to find a nearby hospital, and I waltz and see a board with every doctor’s picture and name on it. There’s a man’s picture with ‘Labor and Delivery’ written under his name. Perfect. Finding the nearest restroom, I do a quick switch-er-oo and give myself an impressed thumbs up in the mirror. Easy-peasy, although I prefer my natural good looks. I try to take this whole mess in stride, and look on the bright side that I get to flex my powers a little more than I usually do at home. Sitting in my obsidian throne for damn near all eternity gets pretty boring. I follow the signs towards the ‘Labor and Delivery’ wing, but a tall woman in scrubs approaches me on quick feet with a stern glint in her eyes. “Where in the seven hells have you been?” she grits out, taking me by the arm. “There are eight, actually,” I mutter under my breath, but let her drag me along regardless. Gotta keep my cool. Briskly, she leads me through a set of double doors and I can feel the cold sterility of the walls creeping into my skin. A baby cries from somewhere down the hall and I realize I’m suddenly being shoved into a room with a human woman’s privates in my face. Holy shit, they expect me to deliver a baby. This is not the labor and delivery I thought it was. Something runs through me and I want to assume the feeling is terror as I look up at the nurse standing beside me. Where the fuck is Felix when I need him, or even Hyunjin. Two hours later I am absolutely exhausted. My powers are good for nothing in a delivery room, and I’m a little intimidated by the absolute power of human women. I’d have passed out like the man at her bedside did. The nurse gently shoves me into a chair and serves me a cold stare as she continues to move about the hall. For the first time since I came here, I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s my cue to ditch the hospital, too worried I’m going to get roped into more mortal shenanigans if I skulk around looking for the archives. I’ve seen enough for one day, thank you. I’ll just have to stick to the shadows instead. _____________________________ Two months pass similarly, although I am now completely terrified of anything and everything hospital doctors do. My search has been pretty shitty, too. I’ve searched hospitals all over the world and yet, nothing. It’s frustrating, but with a bit of luck- thank you Jeongin- the new year is only a few days away. So I wait at one of the hospitals, hidden in the shadows to see if any babies are born as the clock strikes twelve. None are, although a set of twins comes into the mortal realm two minutes after. I’m tempted to take one in that moment, considering it an offering that the mother was blessed with two babes. If I kill one, she would still have the other. I’ve warred with myself for the last two days, sticking to the corners of the mothers dark hospital room like a nightmare. Waiting for the right moment, reeling myself back into the shadows a moment later because killing one of these babies isn’t going to fix this. That is, until one of the masked nurses comes in to adjust the mother’s bed and sit with her since there seems to be no other family around. “They’re so beautiful, you did so well,” the nurse coos at the mother, who smiles in return. “You know, I am also a new year baby,” says the nurse, wiping down the mother’s forehead with a damp towel. “My grandmother always told me it meant I was lucky, and protected by good spirits.” I don’t realize I’m holding my breath as I listen to her. She was born on new years day, too. Could she…? “Thank you,” the mother sighs, looking towards her newborn babies where they lay swaddled in her arms. The nurse checks the clipboard at the end of the bed, “Since they were born so close to midnight, they’ll be healthy and successful.” “Another one of your grandmother’s beliefs?” the mother grins tiredly at the nurse. She nods her head fondly, “Of course.” The mother smiles again at her, “Were you born close to midnight, then?” Her question makes the nurse chuckle, “Midnight on the dot.” I’m so shocked I almost expose myself and fall out of the shadow I’m hiding in. Shit, fuck. Yes, I can go the fuck home! Okay, okay, I just gotta be cool. I gotta figure out how to do this. I can’t let this woman out of my sight. _______________________

A whole three months. That’s how long it’s been since I found my ticket back home.

Except… I can’t go home yet. I don’t know how to make this work. Although my desperation to be done with it is high, my power isn’t meant to be wielded without purpose. Certainly not to abduct someone in public. That would make me a criminal in their world and mine.

If this woman spends one more frustrating full moon working in the hospital until well after daybreak, I will commit to dragging her out of there. But I have principles, damned as I may be. I take pride in getting my way without trouble.

“Y/N,” another nurse whines at her as she walks out of a patient’s room tonight. “You said you would work for me this weekend. You can still do it, huh? Can’t you?”

My target stops, purses her lips and sighs, “Minji, I told you. I really can’t unless you can take my weekend shift next weekend. I have things I need to do, too.”

Minji whines louder, taking Y/N by the arm as she walks toward the next patient’s room,“I know but I can’t work the weekend! I can take any day shifts you want but not the weekend!”

A tall male nurse exits the room Y/N is standing in front of, passing her the clipboard, “I can work this weekend’s shift for you, Minji. But only if you work my Monday.”

Both women blink at him in surprise, followed by smiles, “Oh, Taejin you would do that?” Minji asks excitedly.

“Yes,” he nods. He makes a fist and gently shakes it towards the pair of women before walking away.

I think on it for a moment, bored of watching the interaction thereafter. The realization spreads across my face in a saccharine smile… there’s a full moon on Sunday. Today is what humans call Monday. That gives me one week to make my preparations and be done with this place.

__________________________

I ignore the anxiety creeping in the back of my mind. I’ve seen remnants of Evil lurking closer and closer, and I can’t help but worry I’m racing a clock before it figures out what I’m up to.

It knows I’m weaker here than in my realm, and I hate feeling like some kind of prey while it waits for the right time to strike. I worry it will take away the one shot I have at getting home.

So much so that here I am for the fifth time tonight, in her home, watching her. She can’t see me of course, and I war with myself over her privacy.

Why do I even care? I’m not human, and I’m going to kill her in less than a week.

She exits the bathroom with a towel spun up on her head, wearing nothing but her bra and panties, and the urge to leave her home and give her space washes over me once more. I pause, pressing up against the wall as she passes me, and catch sight of something interesting.

Scars. Everyone has scars, sure, even me. But hers… look out of place on her smooth skin. One that cuts diagonally across her chest from one side to the other, disappearing with the curvature of her left breast. Another, straight down her ribs from beneath the lace of her bra. There is one more pale marking across her hip, curling towards her back. Her skin is puckered as if there were previously a large hole at the back of her hip.

In the last three months I’ve been watching this woman, I have almost never seen her wearing anything other than the armor of her scrubs.

I’ve watched her go about her routine what feels like a hundred times. I know how she takes her coffee, and what time she takes her vitamins. I know that every Tuesday night she goes out for one single glass of red wine and reads by herself at a piano bar.

I know she has chronic neck pain and keeps a picture of her grandmother in her wallet that she stares at with a wistful smile when she’s having a hard time. I know she loves children, and has many friends at the hospital.

I know she silently lets her tears fall in her car when she’s driving home from a particularly hard day, just for the duration of the drive. And I’ve sat in her living room every night after she locks her door to go to sleep.

I’m not sure at what point I started feeling attached to her, although I don’t know if the attachment I feel is because of my mission or something far more troublesome. An unfamiliar emotion washes over me as I watch her scarred body move into her bedroom. Is it pity? No, that’s not right.

My skin prickles suddenly, and I turn to see the wisps of a presence dissipate into thin air.

Fuck. Guess I’ll have to figure out how to keep Evil from entering her home, too.

There’s a sinking feeling in my gut, and I’m confident it’s onto me. I don’t have a choice anymore, I have to protect her at all costs until the full moon.

_______________________

Throwing myself full tilt into protecting this woman is harder than it looks. For the last several days, I’ve grown to learn more about her than I ever wanted to.

I’ve learned her routine like clockwork, now that I’ve committed to never letting her out of my sight. It’s like I almost know her and I’m coming to find humans incredibly interesting. In just a few months, I now want to experience some of the things she’s experienced in her lifetime.

Even the things that swirl my gut with sympathy or sadness, like the look she sometimes has on her face when she twirls her chopsticks around her jjajangmyeon and looks around the emptiness of her apartment with a frown. She never takes more than two bites of her meal when she has that look.

I’m becoming addicted to these new feelings I’m experiencing, and logically, I can imagine they would only be more intense if I were actually experiencing them firsthand.

Evil has come and gone twice during these three days. I was able to fight it off last night without a problem. I snigger to myself in the corner of her living room, shaking my head at the desperation it’s clearly shown. Even if I’m not as powerful in the human world, I’m still a Numen King, and my powers are strong enough to deflect its advances.

Tonight is no different than the last few. We came back from the hospital, she took a shower, opened and closed her fridge with a sigh, and she bit her lip in contemplation before plopping down gracelessly on the floor in front of her couch with the latest book she’s into.

I silently creep from my shadow in the corner of the room to sit on the armrest of the couch, reading over her shoulder.

Before you have any ideas- shove it. I’m allowed to be curious about it. I’ve never read a book, so it’s a new experience. Besides, I’m invested now- I need to know how it ends. It’ll bug me if I never find out.

Around midnight, she finishes a chapter with a massive cliffhanger. I want to beg her to turn the damn page, but she looks at the clock and frowns. For a moment, she thumbs the corner of the page as if she’s curious to also sate her desire.

“I won’t be able to sleep if I keep thinking about what will happen.” she whispers aloud, with a shrug of her shoulders. Just as she’s about to turn the page, there’s a banging on her front door.

She leaps about three feet in the air- but I’m already pulling a sword from the shadows on my way to the door.

A man stands on the other side. The black holes of his eyes and his crooked smile give him away, and before she can gather the courage to come to the door, I’ve already gone through it and grabbed him by the throat.

We’re ripping through the air immediately, and I’m tearing at Evil with swords as much as it is tearing at me with bloodied claws.

“Give me the girl.” Evil cackles at me. It lunges forward in a plume of black smoke, but I twist out of reach easily and give chase back towards the apartment. The one disadvantage to aerial combat or racing- there are no shadows for me to move freely between.

Instead, I have to rely on other tactics- such as throwing a pair of swords and hoping Evil dodges rather than deflecting even one.

Luck is in my favor tonight, and I thank Jeongin for blessing me with it as the weapons careen past its form. The face of the corpse it’s using looks back at me to laugh, but the last thing it sees is my smirk before I’m gone.

“Made you look!” I shout as I emerge from the shadow cast on one weapon from the other in the moonlight. I grab both swords and swing their familiar weight towards my enemy, feeling the clean slide of them through the corpse. While Evil’s shell falls, I realize I can see Y/N’s apartment from here. I’d rather defend on solid ground where I have the advantage, so I use the distance between us to head back.

It lags behind me by several yards after it recovers, and the moment my boot touches the rail of the rooftop where Y/N’s door is, I reach behind me, manifesting and pulling my favorite sword from my back as I turn around. Just for show, I let about a dozen more blades conjure from my arsenal- and my black cords spring forth from my back just for effect.

I can’t help it- I enjoy watching Evil think twice about fucking with me. It’s not getting through my defenses tonight.

It must have dropped the corpse somewhere along the way, as it formlessly undulates in the air in its natural smoky state. After a few seconds of the standoff, it flies off into the distance.

All of this happened in the span of seconds. Still high on adrenaline, I jump involuntarily at the sound of the door opening behind me. Standing there in her pajamas is Y/N, with a kitchen knife behind her back.

She’s terrified, but brave as she walks out onto the roof, “H-hello?”

My weapons and cords dissipate, and I soften. The urge to reach out and touch her cheek jerks me back to reality. What the fuck is wrong with me?

She tiptoes past me in her house slippers, checking down the steps to the street. When she finds nothing amiss- she relaxes. Confused mumblings spill from her mouth like whispered curses at some drunkard knocking on her door in the middle of the night.

She peers over the railing to see if anyone is below, but finds nothing there either.

Back inside the house, she replaced the knife and returns to the couch, “Definitely can’t sleep now.” She cracks the book open and aggressively turns the page to begin the next chapter.

I’m not as excited about it as I was before, now that Evil ruined our evening of reading. Y/N can’t settle either, rereading the same page three times before she gives up with a huff.

Instead, she moves to the kitchen and pulls out a tin of some dried herbs from the cupboard. She’s making tea.

She puts the kettle on and preps her mug, returning to the couch. The minutes pass quietly while she waits, and I watch her eyes slowly drift closed.

When the kettle starts to whistle lowly, she doesn’t stir. I wait for her to wake and get it on her own, but she’s already deeply asleep, and makes no move to get up when the whistling becomes annoying.

I move to the stove and turn it off, leaving the kettle to cool. I know enough about the superstition of wasted tea- so I pour the dried flakes back into the tin and close the lid.

I can’t do too much, or else she might get suspicious. Gotta do the bare minimum so she doesn’t burn her house down in her sleep or call upon more bad karma- that’s the last thing I need while I’m trying to keep her from dying before Sunday. The thought makes me bite at my lip with some uncomfortable emotion.

Moving back to the couch, I settle on it beside her. She looks peaceful. I lean my elbow on the back cushions, resting my head in my hand as I study her features. Her neck is exposed, elongated as her head rests on the back cushion. Her lashes barely touch at her cheeks and she breathes deeply, evenly.

My mind wanders, curious about her. What kind of life has she lived, where is she from? How many lives has she lived before this one? Has she ever watched someone die?

Her lips pout then, and a murmur slips past them. She shifts in her sleep, suddenly turning toward me unconsciously as she pulls her feet up and snuggles deeper into the cushions.

I hold my breath, ready to bolt if she gets too close. Well, closer than she already is. The proximity is too much, and I can feel her warmth and her breath fanning against my chest, barely an inch from me.

And yet, I cannot make myself move away. If Chan were seeing this he would be scolding me. I ignore the thought, selfishly allowing my curiosity and desire for human experiences cloud my better judgment. If we touch, she’ll be exposed to a world she doesn’t deserve to be part of. She’ll see everything, and she’ll see me.

The heart inside my chest is beating strongly, and I can feel my skin heating- both signs of carnal attraction. I might not be human, but I know enough about some things.

Before I can get too invested in the thought, I force myself away. I take the blanket draped over the armchair in the corner and lay it over her sleeping body. Involuntarily, I smile at her subconscious reaction as she clings to it and curls into an even tighter ball.

Closing the door behind me, the cool night air feels refreshing against my skin. This is nice. Naturally settling on her pyungsang, the stars are impossible to see in the middle of the city. Falling snow would be just as nice to focus on, but I’m looking up at a cloudless January night sky instead.

_________________________

It’s Friday. Finally. I sneer at myself and how… human that sounds. As if I work a mundane job and can’t wait for the weekend.

No, for me it means I get to spend two days outside of my least favorite human place- the hospital.

It’s never easy to tail Y/N at the hospital, either. There are too many people for me to walk comfortably- lest I accidentally bump someone and then poof, my whole existence becomes public.

I can’t go walking around here without a disguise, and I refuse to do that again. There aren’t many shadows to hide in, either, because humans like to keep hospitals insufferably bright.

Think positively, Changbin, I chastise myself in my best fake-Chan voice. Stupid.

Y/N is about to get off work, and hopefully she will stick to routine. The convenience store on the way home from the bus stop for a cold six pack and cup ramyeon, followed by her usual shower and diving head first into her book. We might finish it tonight.

To my pleasure, she does exactly as I predicted. The beer was even on sale tonight, which put her in an exceptional mood. “It’ll taste even better!” she whispered to herself with a laugh, and I’m confused about how the monetary value of a beer can enhance the flavor of it upon a human tongue. I want to try it.

It doesn’t matter in the end, as her cheery mood is infectious, even I am impervious to the magic of her. But my good mood leaves me at the door when we get back to her place. Something isn’t right.

It doesn’t seem to perturb Y/N as she unlocks and pushes her way through the door with casual indifference. She immediately sets the beer in the fridge and leaves her food on the counter, stripping off her layers one by one as she heads for the bathroom.

She screams when she flicks on the lights, and I’m there with black cords at the ready. To my surprise and annoyance, rather than Evil in her bathroom, it’s an arachnid.

I relax a fraction, and she tiptoes off to find something to deal with the tiny creature. A sound comes from the living room, and I turn around in mild confusion, knowing she went into her bedroom.

Her book is on the floor, out of place from where we left it last night. The room is full of a thin haze, similar to what I think is cooking smoke. I see it contorting itself into a thicker mass of darkness. When it’s done, Evil is standing in her living room at the opposite end of the couch.

As we stand off, I can see Y/N go back to the bathroom out of the corner of my eye with a cup and a sheet of paper.

Evil chuckles darkly, curling its sinister tendrils of smoke out from its center. I match each one with a black cord of my own, pulling two small swords from my realm. I have to get Evil outside somehow. Or else Y/N will get involved getting caught in the crossfire.

It moves then, like a whip towards her. Striking hard, but met with the burning ends of my cords for each blow. Angered by my defense, it charges me with a disembodied scream.

It’s going to be tough to fight in such a small space, especially without bumping into the human I’m desperately trying to protect. I can’t risk my cords touching her either- she’d be sliced or burned. I’m going to have to rely on good old fashioned swordsmanship. A pair of Hwando feel most comfortable in my grip, and there’s a nostalgic feeling I get every time I wield them- something from my human years more than a millennia past.

The feeling is short lived as Evil strikes at me again, and I move toward the door, keeping Y/N behind me as she takes the spider outside. My cords leap out the moment the door swings shut behind her, forcing the menace back. The force of it against the wall shakes the apartment.

It doubles its efforts- and a tendril escapes to shove me back against the wall this time. The force of the impact knocks a frying pan from its hook. I’m briefly distracted when Y/N comes back inside- and my cords are once more too risky to use.

She looks at the pan on the floor, and Evil lunges toward her again- but I lunge toward it, and one of its smoky arms knocks a lamp from the side table as we go careening over the coffee table.

Y/N screams, frightened by the disturbances, and she grabs the pan from the floor, shouting to be left alone.

Her voice calls to Evil, and once more it shoves me back into the floor and manages to rip one of my swords from my hand. I sheath the other and manage to pick my head up enough to see the shadow cast from the shade of the overturned lamp- and I’m there.

I leap from it just in time to feel the painful bite of steel through my stomach. In my panic, my hands grasped the one thing I should never have touched.

Suddenly Y/N is standing in front of me and her eyes are filled with surprise and terror as she meets mine for the first time. Her skin is warm beneath my palms where I grip her shoulders, and her mouth sputters to say something until she looks down to see my own sword protruding from my body. Luckily the pan in her hands protected her from the sword, but she drops it to cover the scream that erupts from her mouth.

Evil cackles from behind me, but all I can see is Y/N. The panic in her face, and suddenly the pain is numb. I feel like I’m burning up, and my vigor is renewed as I turn and pull another sword from my realm- slashing at Evil with it as I push Y/N behind me again.

Only this time, the feel of her warm hand in mine and her eyes on my back makes me feel grounded and invincible.

I barely remember what happened after I laid eyes on the horrifying smoke of my enemy.

__________________________________

I awake, feeling like I slept for a thousand, much needed years.

The last thing I remember was being stabbed by Evil with my own fuckin’ sword. What the hell transpired after that…?

Sitting up with some discomfort, I find myself in a bed- specifically a bed I recognize, with a blue comforter and a wooden frame.

I peel back the linens to check the damage and it doesn’t even register that I’m shirtless when I spy the stitches neatly holding my skin closed where the hole used to be. It’s bruised, but I’ll probably heal up completely in a day or two.

The light coming from the open bedroom door is interrupted by a shadow, and then a woman appears in the door frame. She’s wearing leggings and a hooded sweatshirt about three sizes too big for her, and there’s a mug clasped between her hands.

“Y/N…” I mouth out on a dry, hoarse whisper.

Her relaxed posture straightens, and she approaches the bedside, “How do you know my name?”

[sashi-ya]

Chocolate Katakuri x Gn! Reader Day 17: Making Gingerbread Houses ~

tw: a little angsty but sweet. Kata goes through some painful moments of his past.

wc: 880

So, once again dear tumblr won't allow me to answer the ask, so... Dear @werewolfsupersoldier, I'm answering your request this way! So, here it is! It's a little angsty, but sweet so I hope you enjoy! 💖 thank u so much for requesting and happy holidays! 💖✨

The request included:

@werewolfsupersoldier asked: For the Christmas Advent event, may I please request day 17 with chocolate for Katakuri? Modern AU if possible! Thank you so much, and keep up the great work!!

Holidays are pretty fun with Katakuri, but there is something you have never done with him; gingerbread houses. And you don’t know why every time you asked him to, he would say no. He is a sweet man; Kata never says no to you when it comes to doing this type of activity. But you respect him, and this year you chose to make them on your own…

Air pods on, Christmas pop blasting on your ears, you low singing along to Ariana Grande and her “Last Christmas” version. Normally, you would put it on your Bluetooth speaker, but since your boyfriend was sleeping you pop your headphones on and start cooking.

The walls of the little house were already up, some royal icing as the glue maintaining them together and some green sprinkles were acting as the grass. “I have to put up the roof” you mumble, absolutely unaware Kata was right behind you.

You turn around just to go grab the biggest cookies out of the tray that were resting over the counter top when you bump into his belly. “Kata, baby!!” I didn’t know you were here!” you chime, panting because you really got scared. “Good morning, baby. Can I help?” he asks, smiling softly.

You blink a few times, excitement rising in your mouth in the form of a smile. But soon you remember how many times he had said “no” to you. “Are you sure you want to? It’s ok if you don’t want to do it with me! I’m ok!” you chime, hugging him by his waist because he is damn tall. “Yes, I’ve been looking at you doing it and it made me smile… I want to help you” he says, reaching for the batch that has the big parts for the roof of the house.

You can’t help but jump just to kiss him, failing miserably. Kata laughs a little and bends forward so you reach his cheeks allowing you to place a sweet kiss.

And the morning goes by with both of you creating the sweetest gingerbread house of your dreams. You even included a little dog made out of mochi, as he suggested. Some icing ended up on your nose and his clothes as a sudden “fight” started during the decorations. And after all, he was really good at doing this. Kata was having a lot of fun and was enjoying it like a child on Christmas eve.

You wonder why he didn’t want to do it before, so you simply had to ask once the beautiful creation was finished - and thoroughly photographed for Instagram -.

“Baby you seemed to have a lot of fun decorating the gingerbread house with me… why did you want to do it now but never before?” you ask, unsure if you should.

Cranberry eyes fixed on yours tells you with big pain there was something about his past he was hiding. And he decided to speak up about it soon he gathered the right words. You went and sat on his lap, for some reason you thought he would like to have you closer to him.

And you weren’t wrong.

He sighs and finally speaks. “Uhm… do you remember what I told you about my mom?” he asks you. And you know this had to do with how painful his relationship with Lin Lin has always been. The lady pressured him to be the absolute best, the better, the strongest. Even his brothers and sisters wanted that to. Except for Brulee, she is fine.

“Yep…” you tell him, not wanting to say more just in case. “So, when I was young… Brulee and I wanted to make gingerbread houses, you know, like all the kids… and we try making them in secret, cause mamma wouldn’t allow me to” he tells you, looking to the ground with a sad sight and subtly moving his leg up and down as clear a sign that anxiety was kicking in.

“Baby it’s ok…” you mumble, because you don’t want him to keep telling you something if it makes him hurt.

But he continues. “The thing is that one day she found out what we were doing… so he punished me… really hard. And that was the last time I ever did one…”. His eyes were watery, and he had all the right in this world to cry, to be sad. “I’m sorry for insisting you so many times…” you mumble, heartbroken because you know Lin Lin’s punishments and parenting methods were plain abusive. She would always pressure the poor kiddo to be a grown-up man, and never, not even once, protect him from the bullies of his school…

“No, don’t be sorry. As I was watching you, I realized I could do everything with you. Those that I had forbidden, those things I want to… I realized I could smile with you. You are my second chance in life, (Name)” he says, smiling through the pain.

“Baby…” you whisper, wiping his tears.

��~

[scxrlettwxtches]

a crown of thorns | hwang hyunjin

genre: royal au, fluff/angst, fem!reader

warnings: pregnancy, slight violence

description: a few years have passed since your tumultuous beginnings with the enemy king, hwang hyunjin, and to everyone’s astonishment, your marriage flourished with an abundance of love. however, this was not yet a happy ever after, and danger still lurks within every corner of your peaceful kingdom.

word count: 14.0k+

a/n: ack the more i read this, the worse it seems to get haha. but guys!! this is my last fic on this blog!! thank you again for all the love you’ve shown me and my writing. <3 wishing everyone all the best!! 

As he sat on his throne, absently chatting away with foreign envoys, Hwang Hyunjin considered himself rather lucky for a multitude of reasons.

All the princes and the lords sitting around the table, enjoying the tea and pastries, had everything one could want in the world. Endless fountains of wealth, resources, luxury. Whatever they desired, they only needed to snap their fingers, and someone would provide. It was the type of life many in his kingdom could only dream about in their wildest fantasies.

But, underneath the splendor, Hyunjin could see it as bright as day. Beneath the material luxury was discontentment, unease, unhappiness. Many of them were married to people that they did not love, were tied to their own wealth as it was the only sense of stability in their lives. And above all, Hyunjin could sense their loneliness, the invisible--yet deadly--disease that latched onto the heart and knawed at it until it was nothing but a shriveled remain. It was a poison that had no identifiable cure, and its affects only magnified as time went on.

Hyunjin could see it all because, once upon a time, he was just like them. Sitting on the throne, he was merely staring at reflections of his past self, a shell of a boy that was forced into a position of power too soon with too few people he could trust. He saw himself in the young lord that was visiting from across the sea, his eyes alight with ambition and a thirst to prove himself. He saw himself in the crown prince of the neighboring kingdom, the mistrust laced in every sip he took of his tea. He was like that once: scared, angry, betrayed, and alone.

But with a strange twist of fate, his life changed for the better. He found people he could trust. He met the love of his life. Unbelievably, he even married her, slowly earning her respect and eventually, her heart. And now, Hwang Hyunjin was no longer the boy with a crown too heavy and a life too lonely. He had people he cared about deeply, he had people he wanted to protect with his whole being. Especially…

“Papa! Papa!”

Hyunjin’s ears perked up as the large, ornate wooden doors of the hall creaked open ever so slightly, and a pitter patter of frantic footsteps bounded into the throne room. Almost immediately, he felt a smile grace his face, all the tension draining out of his posture as he gazed at the little girl, his darling daughter. 

Even the most stone-hearted envoys and esteemed guests could not hide their smiles as the girl ran excitedly towards her father, “Papa!” She giggled again, clumsily climbing up the steps to the throne.

Hyunjin’s heart fluttered with pride as he watched his daughter clamber up the marble steps, and for a split second, the image of her sitting on the throne as the next queen flashed across his mind. One baby step at a time, he reminded himself, and he stood up, easily picking up the girl as she gripped onto his sleeves.

“Naeun,” he brushed the baby hairs out of her face and smiled at her rosy cheeks. Time and time again, he was reminded of how much his daughter had begun to resemble the both of you. She had his doe eyes, but her smile, that was all you. 

The meeting became completely irrelevant to Hyunjin as he lavished all of his attention on her, “What are you doing here?”

Naeun, who was breathing heavily from all the running she had done, huffed and pouted rather sternly, “Mama said that if you stay in the office all night again, mama will dwag you back to the bedwoom.” 

Hyunjin fought the urge to laugh, utterly charmed by Naeun’s petulant words. How hard had she prepared to relay such a fiery message? He climbed up the remaining steps with the girl in his arms and sat back down comfortably on the throne, gently placing her on his lap.

“Papa is very sorry,” he said solemnly, bringing her little hand to his lips so he could kiss the back of it, making her giggle and squirm, “Did your mama send you here to tell me that?”

“Nope! But mama miss you!” Naeun replied brightly, and by this point, none of the guests were able to hide their endeared smiles and chuckles. Hyunjin felt a strange rush of both protectiveness and pride as he observed how easily Naeun had stolen the spotlight in the room with her joy and her innocence. It must be a father instinct that he was beginning to develop.

“Ah, mama misses me?” Hyunjin didn’t even know his heart was capable of containing such unbridled happiness and love as he smiled at his daughter. Naeun nodded firmly, and Hyunjin rubbed her back as he smoothed down her pretty princess dress, making sure she was comfortable before addressing the guests.

“My apologies for the interruption,” he said with perfect politeness, ever the ideal host. As expected, not many people were even the slightest bit annoyed by the disturbance, and they all waved off his apology, continuing the casual conversations about trade, finances, and commerce.

When it was all over, and Hyunjin was finally able to adjourn with all meetings and any other activities he’d scheduled to entertain his foreign guests, he eagerly walked down the hallways to the royal chambers, with Naeun safely nestled in his arms.

“Papa?”

“Yes, my little one?” He replied, letting her rest her chin on his shoulder.

“What’s fin..finan…” Naeun’s face scrunched up with effort as she tried to put the word back together from her memory. 

Hyunjin smiled fondly; he’d noticed her eagerly listening during the meeting, trying to soak in all the new knowledge that was coming her way. Naeun was good at de-escalating tensions, especially when she did her usual thing of barging into meetings without a care in the world, but Hyunjin also liked to let her stay in meetings because the little toddler seemed genuinely interested. She never seemed like she wanted to be anywhere else, only blinking from person to person with her large doe eyes. 

“Finance?” He supplied helpfully, and Naeun nodded into his shoulder, “It’s grown up stuff.”

“I like grown up stuff,” Naeun said with all the seriousness that a three year old could muster.

Hyunjin laughed, “I know you do, petal,” he hummed, thinking of a good way to explain the concept, “You know when you like to play house with your dolls and Uncle Changbin?”

Naeun immediately brightened at that. She loved playing house with Uncle Changbin! He was always a bit grumpy, a bit reluctant, but they always had a great tea party whenever her mama and papa were busy. 

“Mhm!”

“And you always like to trade certain dolls for the dolls that Changbin brings?” Hyunjin asked. Once again, he felt enormous gratitude to his personal commander, Seo Changbin, for going beyond the responsibilities of duty to take care of Naeun. As much as you and Hyunjin tried however you could to make time for her, with royal duties, parties, meetings, and work, it was just impossible to spend large amounts of time with your lovely daughter.

“Mhm! Uncle Changbin brings pwetty dolls!” Naeun nodded.

Hyunjin felt the smile grow on his face as he held her in his arms. He’d been smiling more often ever since Naeun was born, “Exactly. And you always have to give a few of your old ones to get the new, right? Or choose a few toys to give to Uncle Changbin so he can donate them to the capitol orphanages?”

Naeun only nodded curiously. 

“That, in a way, is finance. Of course, it’s a little more boring than trading dolls, though,” Hyunjin tickled her tummy with his finger, distracting her as she wiggled and squealed. Truth be told, Hyunjin didn’t want Naeun to grow up so quickly, even if that was all she wanted to do. Hyunjin didn’t remember anything from his childhood except textbooks, lectures, and a crushing pressure from his father and mother to live up to their expectations. He would never wish that upon his daughter.

After one more turn around the corner, they finally arrived at the Royal Chambers, with Changbin and Felix standing guard on both sides of the entrance. 

“Hi, Uncle Changbin! Hi, Uncle Lixie!” Despite their attempts to teach Naeun royal protocol about how to address the Kingsguard, she had little regard for it, opting to wave from the safety of her father’s arms. 

Changbin’s normally passive, almost grumpy expression melted ever so slightly as he waved back at her.  Despite his constant statements about not wanting to marry and not wanting to start a family, having Naeun made Hyunjin realize that his commander was surprisingly good with children. But if anyone so much as mentioned it, Changbin would deny any evidence of such allegations. Felix, on the other hand, was absolutely besotted with the little girl and made no attempts to hide it.

“Hi, little princess!” He smiled, opening the doors to the most private section of the palace. Hyunjin chuckled, nodding respectfully to both men before walking in. 

“Now, where’s your mama?” Hyunjin murmured. Of course, you were supposed to be in the bedroom, but Hyunjin knew you better than that. 

Naeun giggled, as if she knew you were breaking some sort of rule, and pointed to the study, “There!” 

“Thank you, petal,” Hyunjin booped her nose fondly before walking into the study, creaking the door open slowly as not to startle you. 

Every time his eyes fell to you, he would be swept with a newfound love that was stronger and more powerful than the time before. Even though your back was turned slightly away, and he could only see the slight curve of your lips and the profile of you from the side, Hyunjin knew without a doubt that you were the most beautiful woman in the world. 

You didn’t seem to notice your family walking in, lost in thought as you stared at the window, a piece of parchment in your hand. Hyunjin smiled, knowing how concentrated you can get when it came to state affairs. He put a finger to his lips, indicating to his daughter to be quiet. Naeun covered her mouth with her little hands, nodding as he very gently placed her on the fluffy carpet so she could play with the toys on the ground.

“I believe the doctor’s orders were for you to stay in bed?” Hyunjin murmured softly as he gently draped a woolen shawl over your shoulders, his arms snaking around you from behind. Maybe you did know he was around, since you didn't seem startled by his presence and only smiled as his hands rested on your tummy.

“We have guests in our palace. How can I stay in bed when there’s so much to do?” You replied, leaning into his arms and physically relaxing against him.

“You can just leave the work to me,” Hyunjin pouted a little, feeling guilty that he wasn’t able to handle the entire burden of royal duties. He couldn’t when you were pregnant with Naeun, and he couldn’t now. His hands rubbed your tummy through the silk nightgown as he gently placed his chin on your shoulder, murmuring, “It’s not good for the baby…”

Every time Hyunjin touched your tummy, it made you airy with disbelief and awe at how fortunate you were to have him. When you were a princess, long long ago, you’d never expected yourself to look forward to starting a family. But with Hyunjin, Naeun brought so much joy in your lives that neither of you could help but want another, and your prayers were answered when you became pregnant again around the time Naeun turned three. 

Part of why you were willing was because it awed you every time you saw how much Hyunjin cared. You knew how kings were, always drowning in their work, their duty, which always led them to crave independence, and then occasionally, turning to other women than their lawful wife. You knew that was the norm. Care, much less love, was something that royal women would be lucky to have.

Yet, Hyunjin gave it to you in the spades. Hyunjin cared, Hyunjin loved so much. You saw it every time he looked at you, you saw it every time he would gingerly place the crown upon your head before formal gatherings. You saw it every time he’d keep you close at parties, made sure everyone knew how much he valued you and your opinion. You saw it every time he looked at Naeun, his eyes sparkling with childlike wonder that could only be reflected in your daughter’s own eyes.

And now, with the two of you expecting another child, you saw it in his fretting, his worrying, his constant attempts to keep you safe and healthy, even if he was a little overbearing.

“The doctor never said a little bit of work would harm the baby,” you pointed out, tilting your head back to look into his eyes as you cupped his cheek, “I’m checking myself, I promise.”

“I’m sure you are,” Hyunjin chuckled, and he could no longer stop himself, his lips pressing against  yours in a gentle kiss as he hugged you. You only hummed happily against his lips, enjoying the moment when you were suddenly interrupted.

“Yuckie!” Naeun squeaked out, causing both of you to pull away with a laugh. The princess was sitting on the ground with a soft plushie in her arms as she looked at her parents with disgust.

You burst into giggles, pulling away from Hyunjin to walk over to her, “Yuckie? It’s yuckie that your parents are in love?” You asked teasingly, pinching her cheek. Naeun giggled, trying to run away as Hyunjin suddenly lifted her up from behind, placing her in his lap.

“Kisses are yuckie!” She squealed, making both of you laugh as Hyunjin tickled her tummy.

Hyunjin smiled, chuckling, “Don’t ever let me catch you kissing someone else,” he warned. In all honesty, the idea of his precious daughter falling in love made his blood boil unreasonably. Especially in the royal realm, it was so hard to determine which ones were good and which ones were only hiding behind the mask of benevolence. Just the thought of Naeun falling in love, Naeun getting her heart broken by some good for nothing prince…

“My love,” Hyunjin’s eyes widened as he felt a gentle hand on his arm. You smiled fondly, almost as you already knew exactly what he was thinking, as you always did, “Baby steps, alright? She’s not at that age yet.”

“Baby steps!” Naeun chorused, although oblivious to the conversation at hand. 

Hyunjin felt himself relax, and he engulfed his daughter in a big hug, letting her snuggle into his chest, “Yes, baby steps,” he murmured as he left a kiss in her hair.

.

“What do you mean, they won’t allow it?” You asked angrily, following Hyunjin into his study as he ran a frantic hand through his hair.

Hyunjin sank into his chair, frustration clear in his face as he glanced up at you, “The letter from the council came back. Apparently, there were some strong voices of protest, and eventually they decided to rule against it. They won’t accept Naeun as the heir.”

“That’s ridiculous!” You snapped, feeling steam practically radiating from your ears, “She’s the eldest child, our first born! They've had three years to observe her, and she's performed well in all subjects. She’s practically a genius!" 

You whirled around, tightening the shawl around your frame as you made up your mind to go to the council yourself when Hyunjin rushed over, intercepting you as he gently grabbed your arms, “Y/N, my darling,” you shook your head, not in the mood for his cajoling and gentle attention.

“I’m going to talk to them. They were relenting a couple months ago! I don’t see why--”

“Hey, hey, breathe,” Hyunjin’s voice was suddenly stern, his hands running up and down your back to soothe you, “Calm down, love. Please. Think of the baby.”

You froze, the fight beginning to drain out of you as you tried to take deep breaths. Hyunjin’s hand trailed to your wrist, subtly taking note of your pulse to ensure that you were still alright. 

“I know you’re angry. So am I,” Hyunjin spoke, stepping closer to you and cupping your face in his gentle hands. Your eyes closed at his touch, feeling his warm embrace as his comforting presence, “But we need to deal with this slowly. There are foreign envoys still here, remember? We can’t go barging around the palace like we normally do, not until they leave.”

You huffed, knowing that Hyunjin was right, but still feeling churlishly angry at the news, “So we just wait?”

“We’ll discuss it once more when the council meeting is held again,” Hyunjin suggested, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, “I’m sure they’ll cave. Naeun is a perfect contender, the perfect candidate for the next heir. She’s just not what they’re used to.”

“And what are they used to? A son?” You said mockingly, your anger fueled by the ridiculous laws that were still in place. Your kingdom had long since done away with such petty things as male only rules, but it seemed like Hyunjin's kingdom was a little more traditional. 

“Yes, and you know how stubborn they are about it” Hyunjin murmured, palming your stomach, “They’re waiting for this little one.”

“They don’t even know if it’s going to be a boy,” you scoffed, but you could feel yourself relaxing in Hyunjin’s arms. The two of you were so alike and yet so different. Hyunjin was the cooling water to your raging firestorm. And you were the spark that light his ice cold heart alight with love for the first time all those years ago.

Hyunjin hummed at your comment, gently nuzzling his nose against your cheek, “I think it will be. Otherwise, I'd be awfully outnumbered in this family,” he said softly, kissing your cheek as he continued, “But no matter. I still want my precious Naeun to be the crown princess. The council just has stick up their ass.”

“Hyunjin!” You slapped his arm, pulling away to walk towards his study, sitting in the chair as you felt the baby kick once again.

The king only laughed at your glare, immediately rushing to your side as he took your hand, “The baby’s bothering you again, huh?” He asked, his eyes filled with wonder as he stared at your tummy. It was a silent, yet rather apparent question to you, asking whether he had permission to touch. It was almost adorable how childishly excited Hyunjin would get at the thought of his own children.

You gently placed his hand over the fabric of your dress, right over where you’d felt a slight kick just before, “It’s not a bother,” you said gently, “How can it be a bother when it reassures me that our child is safe and healthy?”

Hyunjin’s expression was nothing short of entranced as he felt a push against the palm of his hand, “I love you,” he murmured as he glanced at you, and he leaned forward to press his cheek against your tummy, to which you only smiled fondly and ran a hand through his hair.

“I love them, too,” he spoke to your stomach, as he had no doubt that your unborn child would hear it and know just how much their father cared.

The two of you stayed in that position, basking in the monetary relaxation for a moment longer, your hands gently running through his hair as he rested his head on your lap. It was definitely not a position that either of you would want to be caught in, but Hyunjin found himself rather fond of it, being able to let go of his responsibilities and rely on you for comfort without being anxious. 

You sat for a moment longer before a particular piece of parchment on Hyunjin's desk caught your eye, and you quickly reached for it as your husband continued to rest comfortably on your lap.

“There’s a party tomorrow night?” You asked, scanning the contents over as your free hand gently carded through his hair.

“Mhm, the envoys are leaving the morning after, so it has to be grand,” Hyunjin mumbled lazily in return, his eyes shut from mild exhaustion.

You hummed, putting the parchment down as you said softly, “If it’s the final dinner, shouldn’t I be there? I haven’t seen any of our guests except on the first day. It would be impolite if I missed the last event, too.”

“No,” Hyunjin’s grip tightened imperceptibly as he gently held your waist, lifting his head up to meet your eyes, “They understand your situation. It’s only natural that you haven’t been at all the events,” he said firmly, his hand absently moving towards your stomach.

“It’s still impolite. I should probably go,” you said softly, resting your hand over his, “We don’t want our guests to leave with a bad taste in their mouth.” 

Hyunjin looked uncertain, his eyes pleading with you as he pressed his lips to your knuckles, “If something happens…”

“Nothing will happen, my darling,” you cooed, trying to reassure your love as you sensed his fear. Hyunjin, underneath his cold words and powerful gaze, was just as human as any other man.

“It’s just a party. I won’t even dance, alright?” You continued with a cajoling smile, brushing your thumb against his cheek bone, “I just have to be there, Hyunjin. It’s my duty.” 

Hyunjin’s eyes fluttered shut as he melted against your touch, leaning his cheek into your hand and sighing softly, “I know I can’t change your mind,” he said, “You’re just stubborn like that, and I love it more than you know. But it scares me so much.” 

“It scares you?” You repeated his words, waiting patiently for him to elaborate. 

The king nodded, looking so vulnerable in your arms that you were afraid he’d break, “What if something happens? What if, one day, you overestimate yourself and you lose the baby? Or worse,” Hyunjin kissed your palm, holding your wrist in his hand as he gazed upon you with more pain in his eyes than you’ve ever seen.

“What if I lose you, too?”

Your heart shattered at the fear and the sheer amount of unconditional love that glistened in his eyes whenever they met yours, “Oh, Hyunjin,” you sighed, leaning forward to be closer to him, “It won't come to that.”

But Hyunjin couldn't hear reason at this point, frightening himself as he held your hand, “I can't rule this kingdom without you, without your love. You're the first happiness I've ever had in this lifetime.” 

“Hyunjin, you can and you have,” you argued, reaching to lace your fingers with his, “You were ruling wonderfully before we met.”

“It's not the same, darling, and you know it,” Hyunjin answered, kissing the pulse point of your wrist daintily, “You made me a better person and a better king.”

You couldn't help but smile adoringly, reaching your other hand to run your fingers through his soft hair, “I'm glad. You made my life happier than I ever dreamed it could be.”

Hyunjin sighed, melting into your touch. As always, he felt weightless in your arms, free of burden and responsibility. He didn't have to think of anything but you and him.

But alas, there was still a problem at hand. 

“Do you really want to attend the party?” He asked softly into the fabric of your dress, one of the comfortable ones he'd ordered to be specially made for you when the two of you discovered that you were expecting a second time.

“I do, Hyunjin. I think it's best that I take my place beside you, at least once before they leave. It'll quell any rumors about us and about my supposed ill health,” you explained your reasoning, understanding Hyunjin’s doubts but still feeling strongly about going all the same.

Hyunjin’s eyes opened slowly and he nodded in resignation as he stood up, “Alright. I won't stop you. But, my love, at least let me assign Changbin and Felix to you as your guards for the night.”

“Both of them?” You asked, standing up slowly to maintain your balance. Hyunjin didn't leave your side for a moment, holding your arm in case you fell, “Isn't that a bit much?” 

“It would make me less anxious to know you're well guarded,” Hyunjin pleaded with you, fixing the shawl around your shoulders as the two of you walked out of the study. It was already quite late in the evening, with Naeun having been sent to bed long before. 

Your fingers intertwined naturally, and the two of you headed to your chambers, ready for a long night's rest, “Alright, assign both of them to me,” you relented, “I still think it’s a bit overkill.”

“You’d be walking around the town without a single guard if we went with what you thought was overkill,” Hyunjin chuckled, beginning to shed his uniform.

“Not true,” you protested weakly as you climbed into bed, already in your nightgown.

Hyunjin joined you soon after, engulfing you in his arms and his comforting scent as you let out a sigh of contentment, burrowing in his embrace, “Let’s get some rest, alright?” You said, sleepiness laced in your voice as you hummed softly, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, my darling,” Hyunjin murmured his response without a moment of hesitation, as if he’d been waiting all his life to tell you, “so much.”

.

Parties were hectic enough already, even more so when you had a hyperactive toddler to manage on top of the plethora of things that could already go wrong, from the banquet food to the entertainment. 

"Weeee!" Naeun squealed, running around the bedroom like a madman and trying to escape changing into her party dress. 

Before she could slip away, you managed to snag an arm around her waist, lifting her into your arms with a grunt, “Where do you think you're going, little princess?”

Naeun pouted, whining as she wiggled in your grasp, “Want to go play! Want to find papa!” She said with a huff. 

“Papa is busy right now,” you said patiently as you gently plopped her on the bed, trying to help her out of her nightgown while Naeun fussed, obviously not wanting to do as she was told.

“But I want to play with papa!” She protested as she eventually lifted her arms, letting you help her change. 

You sighed as you helped her into the beautiful golden dress, the fabric laced with ruffles and sparkling thread that was fit for any little princess.

“Papa is a little busy, alright?” You spoke gently, trying to make your lecture sound less like a scolding and more of an explanation, “There have been guests in Mama and Papa's home for the last few days, and Papa has been busy taking care of them.”

“B-but...what about me?” Naeun’s lower lip quivered dramatically, and you fought the urge to smile at how utterly adorable she was, “Papa take care of me!”

“You don't think Papa takes care of you?” You asked, raising an eyebrow, “Papa spends all his free time with you, Naeunie. Papa takes caring for you very, very seriously.”

Naeun pouted still, her lip jutting out petulantly, but she let her head fall. Even for a three year old, the little girl was awfully perceptive, and knew when she'd lost an argument. And in her heart of hearts, she knew that her parents really did move heaven and earth to make her their top priority.

“Papa no stop taking care of me?” She asked softly as you buttoned the pearl clasp around her collar.

“No, my little one,” you answered with a gentle smile as you fixed her hair, “Papa and Mama will always take care of you. When this is all over, how about we stay a week at the summer residence? Just you, papa and me, and we'll have all the time in the world to play with you.”

Naeun gasped, bouncing on the bed, “Weally? Just us?”

“If you want, you can drag your Uncle Changbin to come with us, too,” you said slyly as you booped her nose, but instead of scrunching her face playfully as she always did, Naeun suddenly looked ashamed, head tilted downward as if she’d done something naughty and then felt guilty about it after the fact.

You were immediately concerned, “Little one?” You prodded, gently trying to tilt her chin up so she’d look at you, “Little one, what’s happened? You can tell Mama anything.”

Naeun hiccuped slightly, and your heart ached as you realized that she was on the verge of tears, “Mama, ‘m sorry,” she mumbled softly, eyes glittering with unshed tears and you quickly sat on the bed, pulling her into your lap.

“Why are you sorry, Naeunie?” You asked, trying not to sound frantic, worried, or anything that might frighten her more.

“Papa said Mama is tired, and that I shouldn’t bother Mama,” Naeun explained, large droplets beginning to roll down her rosy cheeks as she wailed, “But I’ve been bad bad! I make Mama worry!”

You tried to stifle your incredulous laughter as your daughter clung onto you, wailing dramatically as if the world was about to end. So that was what got her so worked up all of a sudden.

“Silly little thing,” you teased, cradling her in your arms as best you could with the bump of your stomach getting in the way. Still, you nuzzled your nose against her cheek, wiping her tears, “It’s mama’s job to worry. You’re a perfectly good girl, Naeunie. Mama and Papa are so lucky to have a precious girl like you.”

Naeun’s shoulders slowly began to shake as she rubbed her eyes, “Like me?” She repeated, a tinge of innocent hope and adoration laced in her voice that always raised your protective instincts, the instinct to shield her from any harm that this world could throw at her.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as you spoke softly, “Just like you. Mama and Papa love you to the moon and back.” 

“And I love Mama and Papa, too! So so muchie!” Naeun parroted back happily, smiling with all the life and brightness that both you and Hyunjin lacked in your own childhoods. Maybe that was why the two of you were so determined to be there for Naeun in every way possible, to make sure that she knew she was so very loved. Because neither of you received that type of acceptance when you were children.

“Good girl,” you said, kissing her forehead once more before smoothing down her dress, “Are you ready to go?”

“Mm!” She nodded, clambering off the bed and standing tall, “Will Papa be at party, too?”

“Your papa is already there,” you chuckled to yourself, taking your daughter’s little hand and heading out of the bedroom.

Outside, both Felix and Changbin were waiting for you, dressed impeccably for the formal occasion. In normal circumstances, it would only be one of them waiting for you while the other guarded Hyunjin, but the king had not allowed any exceptions. Both of the strongest in the Kingsguard must be by your side for the day.

“Sorry for the wait,” you said to both of them as Naeun slipped away from you, skipping over to her two uncles, going especially for one in particular.

“Uncle Changbin, Uncle Changbin!” The man grunted as he caught her in his arms, shifting so she was eye level with him, her bright smile contrasting with his typical frown.

Felix walked with you as Changbin and Naeun entered their own little world, with the young toddler prattling his ears off and the commander listening with surprising attentiveness, “She plays favorites,” Felix complained playfully, clutching a hand to his heart as he stayed by your side.

“She definitely does,” you agreed with a fond smile, keeping an eye on your daughter as you walked down the halls, a hand resting on your tummy as you glanced at the man beside you, “Hyunjin is at the party, right? How is he doing?”

“When will the two of you ever not worry about one another?” Felix laughed, shaking his head, “Hyunjin caught me on the way up to your bedroom, asking about you as well.”

You shrugged, the sound and clamor of crowds and partying beginning to be apparent as you neared the ballroom, “That’s just married life, Felix. Trying to put the other person before yourself,” you glanced at him, the gaze in your eyes shifting into something more mischievous as you opened your mouth, “And maybe, you--”

“Nope! Not happening!” Felix interrupted you cheerfully, “You and His Majesty have just been on my ass about it, and it’s not happening!”

“Oh, but Lixie,” you laughed with him, taking his arm as you walked down the marble steps, “it’s really not all that bad!”

Felix’s gaze was soft as he gently patted your hand. He’d been assigned to the Kingsguard right around the time you were crowned Queen, and there was a sort of camaraderie that formed between the two of you from trying to navigate the ups and downs of palace life. He was a good confidante, and you very much valued his happiness.

“I’m happy here,” he said gently, looking into your eyes with his bright and genuine ones, “I’m happy looking after people that I care about. And for now, I don’t ever want to lose that.” 

You sighed, a smile gracing your face as you shook your head, “Alright. But if you ever change your mind…”

“You and His Majesty would be the first to know,” Felix promised.

The doors swung open, and the crowd quickly stood at attention as you entered the ballroom. Your gaze hardened ever so slightly, and your posture shifted, taking the persona of the respected queen that you were to the eyes of your people. Before you were a mother, or a wife, you were a symbol, an anchor of virtue.

Even Naeun was on her best behavior as she walked down with Changbin, holding his little pinky as she climbed down the steps. She seemed to sense her own importance, and did her very best not to mess up, making you break character for a moment as you smiled.

Your eyes caught sight of your husband standing near the throne, and his eyes twinkled with adoration when your gazes met. He put down his glass of champagne, quickly gliding through the room to receive you.

“God, he’s whipped for you, Your Majesty,” Felix muttered under his breath, “Does the honeymoon period never end--ow!” A discrete finger jab to the side was enough to shut him up.

Hyunjin’s smile was small and hidden, reserved just for your eyes as you made it to the bottom step, “Don’t you look beautiful, my Queen,” he murmured, chastely kissing the back of your hand before pecking your lips.

“Jinnie, not here,” you scolded lightly, letting him take your hand as Naeun rushed over, the crowd cooing with delight. Naeun had only been present in a handful of engagements before this particular party, and the people were still fully immersed in baby fever, entranced by the little girl.

“Papa!” She jumped at him, your husband bending down and catching her easily.

“Oh, my little petal!” His smile was bright as he held her securely, spinning her around, “Ready for dinner?”

“Mhm!” Naeun nodded, but not before placing a big kiss on her father’s cheek, “Miss you!”

You couldn’t help but giggle, watching as the princess’s actions completely melted the crowed. She was definitely a natural. You remembered what you were like as a three year-old, scared, terrified, and always trying to hide behind your mother’s skirt even as she forced you to be independent. 

Naeun didn’t need that push, and you were grateful.

Hyunjin carried Naeun in one arm and escorted you with the other. Your eyes scanned the room, automatically taking note of certain esteemed guests and nobles. In the edge of the room, you noticed a few council members sitting together at a table, refusing to stand at attention for your entrance. 

"Is everything ready?" You asked as you carefully sat down beside Hyunjin, "The dinner, the entertainment-" 

“It’s all done,” Hyunjin smiled, pecking your lips before he placed Naeun in her chair beside his golden one, making sure she was sitting still, “Nothing to worry about.”

You smiled, grateful that your husband was so accommodating and willing to handle so much of the work while you needed your rest. Gesturing to one of the maids, you waved your hand, requesting her to start ushering the guests to their seats as food was about to be served.

As you continued to observe the room, making sure everything was running smoothly, you felt a gentle hand take yours, rubbing it soothingly.

“I haven’t seen you all day. I missed you,” Hyunjin murmured into your ear, making you blush slightly. Even after all these years, his forwardness always flustered you, made you feel like a giddy young princess rather than an experienced queen.

“Hyunjin, come on...not here,” you whispered back, letting his hand glide to your stomach, hidden from everyone’s view by the table in front of you. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” Hyunjin protested in a playful tone, gently patting your tummy before pulling away and gaining back some of his kingly aura right as the first dishes were served.

The banquet went without much of a hitch, to your relief. The atmosphere was overall genial and it didn’t seem like any of your guests had malicious intentions. Hyunjin, of course, grew a little ruffled when one of the young boys from the envoy’s family, no older than five, asked to dance with Naeun, but you argued that it was rather endearing to see the children stumble around the dance floor.

“Mama, that was really fun!” Naeun reported happily when she was sitting back in her seat, her hair slightly messy from twirling so much, “Want to do it again!”

“Never, not while I’m still alive,” Hyunjin muttered, rubbing his eyes halfheartedly as the memory of his precious little girl dancing with a boy replayed in his head. 

You laughed at the two of them, reaching over to fix Naeun’s hairdo so she didn’t look like an absolute mess for the rest of the evening, “I think your father wouldn’t be very happy with that,” you said teasingly, kissing her forehead just as the crown prince approached your table with a glass of fine wine in his hand.

“Your Majesties,” he spoke respectfully, exuding the perfect mixture of gracefulness and charisma as he bowed, “If I could do the honor of making a toast for the occasion?”

Of course, the request was posed as a question, merely to play to the ego and the pride of the hosts, but a toast was usually not something you could refuse. Doing so meant bad blood, tensions, potential rifts in foreign relations. Besides, the prince didn’t look malicious; you normally had a good sense of intuition about people, and the man standing before you and Hyunjin didn’t raise any red flags.

Hyunjin didn’t seem to sense anything either, and with a courteous smile, he waved his hand in agreement, “The trade deals we’ve made this time around are definitely a reason for celebration,” he said, “Although, I’ll have to drink on behalf of the Queen as well.”

The prince smiled at that, gesturing to one of his servants as they walked towards the table, bringing two gold encrusted wine glasses towards you, “We would never want to leave Her Majesty out. In consideration of her pregnancy, I’ve brought a specialty drink created from a fruit that is grown only in our country. It is harmless to the body, and said to bring good health and longevity to expecting mothers.”

Gasps and noises of approval filled the air as you tilted your head inquisitively, looking at the wine glass being presented to you. You could feel Hyunjin’s hesitancy, and you studied the prince’s expression carefully, but there really didn’t seem to be anything wrong. There wasn’t any point in making a big fuss over nothing.

Delicately, your fingers wrapped around the glass, picking it up and looking at the orange liquid. Hyunjin watched you carefully before doing the same with his glass, which held red wine like everyone else.

The prince smiled, relief obvious in his posture as he held up his own glass. He obviously had worried that you might reject the gift, thinking that it overstepped boundaries. 

“May our kingdoms stay allies through peace and through strife. To friendship!”

The crowd chorused the sentiment as you merely lifted the glass to your mouth, the liquid just about to touch your lips when you froze.

That scent. You remembered it when your physician had warned you against certain plants that were harmful to your body. As the queen of two nations, you were an obvious target, and there was never any telling with when someone with a cruel heart could slip a poison into your food or water. The scent was almost imperceptible, but you knew it was there.

Someone was trying to poison you, and they chose the most opportune time to do so.

Watching as the prince and your husband both downed their glasses, your brain was working a mile a minute, scrambling for a way out. You could you say outright that there was poison in the glass. That would put both your own staff and your guests in a terrible position. You didn’t have any proof that it was actually the prince who was trying to harm you, and making those accusations would all but tear the alliance apart. 

Your heart must’ve been pounding so loudly that the people around you could hear. You kept your face placidly calm as you decided on your course of action, and very subtly tapped your finger against the wine glass three times, a signal that Changbin had taught you in order to alert the Kingsguard of danger.

Both Changbin and Felix saw your movement, and so did Hyunjin out of the corner of his eye. He turned, his expression slowly morphing into shocked anger, something you had not wanted to happen. Thinking quickly, you pretended to choke, coughing up a storm as you managed to put the glass down.

Felix walked forward and was beside you in an instant, catching on to your actions. He handed you a handkerchief, gently patting your back as Changbin was also by your side, a concerned expression crossing his face as he stood guard.

“Are you alright, Your Majesty?” Felix asked, keeping the attention on you as he discreetly slid the glass to the side, letting Changbin collect it and take it away, ensuring that it was as far away from you as possible.

“Y-yes,” you smiled shakily, pressing the handkerchief against your lips, “Just got startled when the baby kicked.”

The people around you, Hyunjin and Felix, instantly saw through your lie, but knew better than to question your words when everyone’s eyes were on you. You finally glanced at your husband, your anxiety spiking when you saw the way he looked at you, eyes filled with uncontrollable fury. 

Someone had really tried to hurt you, really tried to take his happiness right out from his grasp.

You placed a hand on his, and gave it a warning squeeze, “I’m alright, love, there’s no need to fret,” you cooed, putting on a show of calming him down so that his anger might be taken as anxiety instead.

Hyunjin caught onto your cues, and did his best to control the murderous emotions threatening to bubble out of his chest. Luckily enough, there was another distraction that waddled over, effectively putting the whole situation at rest.

“Mama! Are you alright?” Naeun ran over, her expression overly worried as she stood beside you, her little hands grabbing blindly for you and wanting to be held. As she was watching her Uncle Changbin, she’d panicked when he did, automatically thinking that something bad had happened to her mother.

“Oh, my little one, nothing happened. See?” You comforted her, bringing her hands to your cheeks as you smiled, “Mama is fine.”

“My deepest apologies, Your Majesty!” The prince stammered out as you gently placed Naeun in your lap, giving into her cries to be close to you, “I did not mean to cause you harm. Not in the slightest.”

“And you did not,” you spoke gracefully, a hand lightly squeezing your husband’s leg under the table as you took control of the conversation, sensing that the man was no longer thinking rationally. Hyunjin already suspected the prince as the main culprit, and any words that would leave his mouth from here on would be far from pleasant.

You smiled serenely, looking at the prince, “There was no harm done. Pregnancies are always unpredictable.”

The prince nodded, his expression still anxious as he excused himself and took his seat back with his family. Looking at his frazzled expression, the idea that the person who was looking to poison you was less likely to be him.

“Hyunjin, snap that glare off your face. People are beginning to notice,” you hissed in his ear as people began to dance and mingle now that the dinner part of the banquet was done. Naeun was still in your arms, having fallen asleep. It was far past her normal bed time, after all.

But Hyunjin’s fury was just barely contained, “How can I? Someone tried to hurt you, Y/N. Someone tried to do so right before my very eyes, right under the noses of our Kingsguard,” he spoke under his breath, the cold glint in his eyes growing stronger with every moment. The Hwang Hyunjin of old, the ruthless king that ruled without mercy, was returning, and you needed to stop him quickly.

“Making a ruckus will not serve us any good,” you said softly, continuing to bounce Naeun lightly on your lap.

“He needs to know what happens if he hurts a member of the royal family,” Hyunjin’s glare shifted to the prince, who was dancing with his wife amongst the crowd.

“It isn’t him, Hyunjin,” you took his hand, lacing your fingers together, “I’m sure it isn’t.”

“Then who?” He rounded on you, eyes filled with pain and anger as he tried to hide it from nosy onlookers, leaning closer to press a kiss to the crown of your head, “Who would dare hurt the most precious person in my life?”

“I don’t know, Hyunjin. But now isn’t the time to play detective. Let’s get through this party first, alright?” You asked soothingly just as Naeun shifted in your arms, mumbling.

“Papa…”

Hyunjin faltered at that weak cry, and you smiled in relief as you carefully handed Naeun to her father. The king held her in his lap, using her as his anchor. 

"Oh, my little petal," he sighed, letting the girl slump into his chest as she slept soundly, unaware of the turmoil raging through her father's heart. Hyunjin held her close, kissing her hair, and you were able to observe the party absently, letting yourself calm down after a near experience with death.

Who could've done it? The very idea of lacing the queen's drink with poison, and quite possibly starting a war in the process, would scare almost anyone away. It had to be someone with much more to gain from the incident, someone that feels sure enough of their position that they see the act through knowing it could never be traced back to them. 

You sat in relative silence for the rest of the evening, choosing to observe rather than participate as the guests enjoyed the many festivities you'd planned for the evening. One particular man, sitting at the table to your right, who looked suspiciously upset for such a joyous occasion, caught your eye. 

His motives certainly aligned, and he was of high enough status that he probably didn't even have to personally orchestrate any of it to happen. 

Could it be...? There was only one way to quell your suspicions. 

. 

The party ended uneventfully, and soon, many of the guests began to trickle out of the palace gates, ready to retire for the night. One man opted to take a less crowded route back to his estate, cutting through the palace passageways instead of braving the cold and the people. After all, he was no longer in a sociable mood after the events of the night. 

He should've  known it wasn't going to be so easy. The queen was not only royalty, she was an experienced general as well. It shouldn't have been such a surprise that she sniffed out the little surprise so easily. 

Still, even if it was to be expected, it was still a disappointment. If only she wasn't around, things would be so much simpler. He would've been able to further secure his position, maybe even take control of the military. Oh, the possibilities for him were endless if only- 

"General Lee Minho. It's quite late for you to still be here in my palace." 

If only you weren't around to stop him. 

Maintaining his composure, Minto turned around, giving you a perfect bow, "Your Majesty, I didn't mean to impose. I was merely trying to get home-" 

"Why did you do it?" 

Never one to beat around the bush, were you? 

Minho gave you a saccharine smile, his heart still relatively at ease. You had no proof. There was nothing that could connect the act to him. 

"Your Majesty, I don't believe I understand." 

It must've been the wrong thing to say. Your eyebrow raised inquisitively, and you took a step forward, your eyes cold and unwavering. You must've learned a thing or two from your besotted husband.  

"You're a cunning man, General. Our kingdoms profit off your intellect and your strategy," you said, looking straight into his own unflinching gaze.

"In fact, your cunning is the only reason you are still alive." 

The air seemed to grow thinner in an instant, and the pleasantries all but faded from Minho’s expression. You weren't inquiring, you knew it was him. This encounter was merely icing on the cake for you. The general was suddenly aware that the halls were completely empty save for the two of you, and there was not a sound to be heard. Not the sounds of a servant fetching water, or a maid finishing up her errands. Nothing.

Minho pursed his lips, giving you an unreadable gaze, “I wouldn't advise threatening me in your condition,” he commented, eyes falling deliberately to the swell of your stomach.

You couldn't help but smile in amusement at his thinly veiled threat, “I assure you, General, I am perfectly safe.”

“Oh?” Minho raised an eyebrow at your words, “And I suppose one of your two dogs that you call the Kingsguard is hiding just around the corner, waiting for a movement that would put you in danger before cutting me down.”

The silence screamed under the midnight sky, and the candles illuminating the hallway seemed to flicker as your smile turned icy.

“Do you really think I need Felix to intercede in order for me to kill you?”

Your words were barely audible, and could've easily passed as the murmurings of the wind, but for the first time, Minho didn't feel safe. There was something about the glint in your eyes, the way you stood before him like a storm just waiting to tear through him. 

All this time, Minho had not worried about the consequences of his actions. He did not believe that you were in a position to raise a finger at him, especially since the nobles were on his side. You were the former princess of a foreign kingdom, after all. You were the disadvantaged one here. If anything, he was worried what the king might do if his plot was discovered, knowing and having witnessed Hyunjin’s merciless punishments to those that defied him.

But standing before you, alone and without the bravado of his typical entourage, Minho realized. It was you that he should've feared. 

There was not an ounce of humanity, affection, or care in your eyes. The loving queen that had just been cradling her daughter in her arms earlier that night had all but slipped away. Standing before him was a battle-hardened warrior, a woman who had experienced too much suffering to ever go through it again, no matter what it took.

“What do you want from me?” Minho said, his innocent facade fading completely as he finally caved, the hatred seeping into his eyes as he glared at you.

“I want answers, and you will give them to me. If you don't know, which I doubt will be the case, you will direct me to someone who does.”

Minho’s jaw clenched, feeling the growing panic and fury clawing up his chest as he stood before you, with no more cards to play, “Alright.”

“Alright?” You raised an eyebrow, the simplest action laced with an unspoken threat.

“Alright, Your Majesty,” Minho sneered, wanting nothing more than to pull out his hidden blade and run it cleanly through your throat. He knew better though, especially since he was sure Felix had his eyes trained on him, ready to strike.

“Who else is in on this?”

“A few of the lords were vaguely aware that I was plotting something, but they did not actively participate in the act.”

“Were your actions supported?”

Looking down to the side, he muttered, “There were a few people that did not agree on my methods, but still want you removed.”

“Naeun. Is she in danger?” You asked sharply, for the first time, feeling a spike of fear hit you. If there was someone willing to murder your unborn child, you suspected that Naeun would not be safe either.

To your relief, Minho shook his head, “Not that I know of.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. As long as you and your child were relatively safe, you could continue the interrogation more seriously, “You laced my drink with poison, but it was not a large enough dosage to cause death. Why?”

“Your death would effectively sever any alliance between my kingdom and yours,” Minho gritted his teeth as he spoke, as if you were physically pulling out every single word from his mouth, “As much as I despise your kingdom for starting that useless war, I am not arrogant enough to deny that our alliance has benefited both of us greatly.”

“So you wanted my child,” you snarled lowly, your hand unconsciously reaching to touch your stomach as if protecting it, “You wanted me to miscarry.”

Minho smiled, all daggers and fangs as he replied, “If your baby didn't make it, you won't have a male heir. You would most likely have a harder time conceiving, and we'd be able to supply His Majesty with a suitable mistress.”

You stared at Minho, the pieces falling together in your mind as you thought of every moment when the general had tried to undermine you, make your comments less received by actively criticizing them, or scorn you for your status as a foreigner.

“You wanted me to lose favor with Hyunjin,” you concluded, feeling almost disappointed by the turn of events. No matter what kingdom, the power hungry were always the same, tearing down others for their own benefit. Doesn’t the battle for control ever get tiring for them?

Minho barked out a scathing laugh, “Of course I wanted you to lose favor with him. I wanted him to resent you, to hate you, to see you for what you really are, a viper hidden beneath that pretty, pretty face of yours.”

“Why?” You asked, genuinely confused, “Why must you go so far to stop me--to stop him--from being happy?”

“You think he’s happy?” The general scoffed, and against his better judgement, he took a threatening step towards you. The expression on your face barely twitched, but Minho could suddenly feel a murderous aura coming from behind him, and he knew better than to push his luck.

“Do you really think he’s happy?” Minho laughed, “You destroyed him, Your Majesty. You turned him soft. We were going to build the greatest, most ruthless empire the continent has ever known. And suddenly, after he met you, he decided to stop conquering, to take care of his people, to take care of your people after you lost.”

You weren’t expect such a barrage of anger and honesty, but you took the chance while you had it, “And what? You’re upset because you stopped gaining wealth and power in the spades like you used to?”

Minho’s scowl was pure wickedness, and you stared him down, an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object, “I’m upset because you turned our king into a soft, weak little boy. The plan was to wring you and your people dry, taking all the resources before leaving you to fend for yourself. And, suddenly, after he met you, he wanted to do nothing but protect you, a cowardly, foolish princess that was nothing but her parent’s puppet--”

“Careful,” your voice was soft, its edges laced with poison as your eyes flashed with a silent warning, “You are alive still because I have use for you, but you run your mouth like that again, and I’ll have your tongue cut out before I slit your throat.”

The general realized the seriousness of your words, and his eyes narrowed, “You have use...of me,” he repeated your words, already disliking where this was going. 

“Of course I do. If I didn’t, your body would have already been dumped into the river by now,” you said pleasantly, the serene smile back on your face as you pulled at your lace gloves.

Minho raised an eyebrow, “Do you think you’d be able to get away with that, Your Majesty?”

“Oh, my dear General,” you couldn’t help but laugh, amused by his doubtfulness at your capabilities, “unlike you, I am not in the position where every move I make is another desperate grab for power. I am the Queen. The power stems from me and my husband. And do you think Hyunjin would care about the potential murderer of his unborn child if I told him the truth?”

Minho’s jaw clenched so hard, it was painful. He underestimated you. Hyunjin was not the ruthless one. You were.

Like a snake constricting its prey, knowing there was no hope of escape, you smiled, “You are in no position to threaten me, Lee Minho, and unless you want me to strip you of all of your titles or for me to tell Hyunjin about what has just transpired, I’d keep that snippy mouth of yours shut.”

How pathetic. You knew exactly what he valued in life, and didn’t hesitate in brandishing against him like a sharpened blade. All of Minho's actions were to protect his reputation with the king and to hold onto the power he'd already earned, and you were dangling that prize over his head, ready to rip it away from him at a moment's notice.

“What does Her Majesty require of me?” Minho asked through gritted teeth and a clenched smile.

“Stop with the schemes. I'm sick and tired of them,” you said tiredly, giving him a wary glare, “Stop trying to usurp my power and overthrow my position as Queen. It doesn't matter how many mistresses you want to throw at Hyunjin. He will always love me as I will always love him, and even if that doesn't come to be, he will always have respect for me.”

Minho felt his blood boil as he nodded, “Yes...Your Majesty.”

You didn't give him the satisfaction of seeing you smile, moving straight to the most important term.

“You will instate Naeun as the Crown Princess.”

“Are you insane?” Minho snarled, his anger spiking as he spat at you, “The people who supported me in ruling against her will think I've gone mad.”

“Maybe you should've thought twice before deciding on your vote then,” you smiled placidly as you took a step closer towards him.

“You will instate Naeun as the Crown Princess, no conditions, no what ifs. She is the heir. Understood?”

As he gazed into your eyes, each order you have laced with power and unspeakable threat, Minho saw himself in the reflection of your sharp stare. To you, he was nothing but a mere doll for you to manipulate to your own will, a being that could just as easily be discarded as it can be replaced. 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Minho said again, the hatred in his tone more than apparent.

“I expect the good news to be placed on Hyunjin’s desk tomorrow morning.”

Without another word, another acknowledge or even goodbye, you turned around, walking down the hall and leaving Minho to wallow in his own failure, leaving him to forever berate himself for the missteps he made, the miscalculations that had now put his entire career into the hands of the person he despised most in the kingdom.

“Sounded like things were going well, Your Majesty,” Felix commented nonchalantly as you passed him, the young guard having positioned himself in the adjacent hallway, waiting for any inkling of danger to jump in and protect you. You didn’t fail to notice the way he twirled his knife before slipping it back into its sheathe, obviously having pulled it out when Minho had made a poorly concealed threat regarding your condition.

“Yes, it seems like some good has come out of this ridiculous farce,” you sighed, placing your hand gently over your tummy as you felt the slightest kick against your side. With that conversation, you could only hope that the worst of the nobles’ spite towards you and your blood would soon be over. 

Felix eyed you carefully in the silent walk back to the Royal Chambers, noting both your emotional and physical state, “Are you going to keep this from His Majesty?” He asked, afraid of overstepping his boundaries by prodding too much.

“Eventually, the truth will come out whether I want it to or not,” you said as you entered the private section of the palace, exhaustion laced in your words. Truthfully, if Minho had decided to call your bluff and attacked you earlier, it wouldn’t have been as easy as you’d made him believe it to be. You had your reputation as a powerful general back when you were a princess to thank for how successful your negotiations went.

“Still, I think I’ll keep it a secret...just for tonight,” you confided to Felix tiredly, turning to him with a weary smile, “He’s worried enough already, especially after earlier.”

Felix nodded, and you didn’t need to ask additionally to ensure secrecy. Felix was good about those things. He was a good confidante, and once again, you felt immensely grateful for his presence. 

He gave you a bow, practiced ease and gracefulness exuding from even the simplest of movements as he spoke softly, “Take care of yourself, Your Majesty.”

You couldn’t help but smile, reaching over and gently patting his head, a silent gesture of praise for the young knight who’d done so much for you, “I promise. Now go get some sleep. It’s quite late.”

Felix excused himself politely, and you took a deep breath, heading to the bedroom where your lover was probably waiting anxiously for your return.

.

As you’d expected, Hyunjin was almost beside himself when you walked into the room, his hands freezing from where they were pulling at the roots of his dark hair when he gasped, “Y/N, my love!” He rushed towards you, pulling you into his arms and sweeping you into a tight hug.

“Where have you been? I was worried sick! Changbin said that Felix was with you, so I trusted that nothing was wrong, but you were gone for so long and I thought—”

“Shh, my darling,” you cooed, letting his hands touch you fleetingly everywhere he could, your shoulders, your waist, your tummy, anything to let him know that you were once again safe in his arms.

You smiled, cupping his cheeks as you leaned close, “I’m alright. Everything’s alright. I just needed some air after what happened today, so I took a walk in the gardens. Felix was with me every step of the way.”

Hyunjin let out a sigh of both relief and frustration as he held your hand resting on his cheek, looking into your eyes, “Please don’t scare me like that again,” he whispered, “Not after what happened earlier.”

“Nothing happened, Hyunjin,” you said softly, your thumb lightly brushing his face as you comforted him, “I’m here, aren’t I, safe and sound?”

“Things could’ve turned out so much worse,” he pressed a fleeting kiss to your palm as he held your hand, “I had the liquid inspected. At this very moment, you could’ve been unconscious, fighting for your life, our child...gone,” his voice cracked ever so slightly as he palmed your stomach.

“But it didn’t happen like that,” you reassured him, eyes widening as you saw his own eyes glistening with unshed tears, “Oh, Hyunjin.”

Reaching forward, you wrapped your arms around his waist, burrowing in his chest as Hyunjin easily fell into your embrace, burying his face in your hair as he hugged you tightly. The room filled with the comfortable silence, and your conversation continued without the need for words.

I love you. I want you to be safe. Please don’t do anything dangerous. It was all translated through your touch and the warmth you gained from one another.

Hyunjin’s hugs were warm. They felt like hot chocolate on a cold winter day, like a summer breeze that swept you away. You felt safe just being in his arms, and soon, you let out a quiet yawn, nuzzling into his chest.

“Let me coddle you tonight,” he murmured, sensing you slumping forward in his chest as his fingers lightly massaged your scalp, “I know you don’t like it very much, but just for tonight, can I please take care of you?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his request. As much as Hyunjin liked to be cared for, by you in particular, his favorite hobby was to spoil you in any capacity that he knew how. He loved to lavish you with gifts, shower you with love, and to do every little thing to make you comfortable. You weren’t the person that liked to take advantage of this little trait of his, since you were never one for lavish gift giving nor were you ever given such attention before, but seeing how earnest he was, you decided to compromise, especially after all the worrying Hyunjin had probably gone through just waiting for you to return. 

“Of course,” you nodded, pressing a kiss to his lips, “Let’s get ready for bed.”

Hyunjin was carefully meticulous as he  undid the corset of your party dress, pulled out the pins that held your hair up, and delicately slipped the silk nightgown over your form, all the while trailing kisses wherever he could. You did the same for him, helping him out of his uniform as your lips connected with his.

“I was thinking,” you mumbled absently as Hyunjin kissed you with abandon, his hands nimbly undoing the braids in your hair, “We should go away, just us and Naeun.”

“Oh? Do tell me more,” Hyunjin replied with a soft smile, his lips trailing down to your jaw as you tried your hardest to remember what you were trying to say. What a little brat he was being.

You sucked in a gasp as you rolled your eyes, amused by his antics, “Let’s spend a week at the summer estate. Naeun needs space to run around, and both of us need a breather from our royal duties. You especially.”

Hyunjin groaned at your words, “You’re definitely right about that. But can we afford to leave, with all the chaos going around?” He asked, as he began to usher you to the bed, his arms looping around your legs as he ultimately decided to just carry you.

“H-hyunjin!” You squeaked, surprised by the sudden action as your arms wrapped around his neck. Your husband paid you no mind, carrying you to the bed before placing you down delicately. His eyes met yours and you touched his face, “I’m sure we can make time. We can delegate some of the less important work to some of the council members. If not, we can just work extra hard after to make up for lost time. We all need a break.”

“Your wish is my command, my Queen,” Hyunjin leaned forward, pecking your lips before walking around to crawl under the covers from his side of the bed, “I’ll start planning the details of the trip tomorrow. Deal?”

“Deal,” you smiled, snuggling into the covers and scooting closer to your husband as his hand absently shifted to rest on your tummy.

“It would be good for this little one, too. Just to experience what life outside this stuffy palace is like,” Hyunjin mumbled, his eyes already closing. He was no doubt exhausted from hosting the party and all the preparations before hand.

You felt your cheeks heat up as you giggled. Hyunjin always had a way of bringing the conversation back to the baby, “Yes, it'll be good for them, too,” you agreed softly as your eyes began to close as well. The day had been far too eventful for your liking, and you'd like at least one full night of rest before having to tell Hyunjin about your conversation with Minho.

Suddenly, your ears perked up at the sound of the bedroom door creaking open ever so slightly. Hyunjin reacted instantly, pulling you close as he sat up to see who had come in.

“Papa…? Mama…?”

Naeun’s sleepy voice was soft and almost inaudible, but Hyunjin let out a sigh, relaxing as he could make out the little figure of his daughter standing at the door.

“Naeun, what’s wrong?” He asked gently, beckoning her over to his side of the bed, “It’s way past your bedtime.”

“I-i—” The little girl rubbed her heavy eyes as she waddled over to her father as she began to whimper, “I had a bad dweam, P-papa.”

Hyunjin’s heart and yours simultaneously melted as a silent agreement passed between the two of you. The priority was no longer to get a good night's sleep; it was your daughter’s comfort.

“Oh, petal. Was it scary?” Hyunjin cooed, reaching down and easily picking her up, settling her in the large bed. He placed her right in the middle, and you rolled over to your side so you could gently wipe her tears.

Naeun nodded at his words, her lips curled in a trembling pout, “Scawy. C-couldn’t find Mama—a-and people saying that Papa was gone…” Her lip quivered again and she began to cry just from remembering the awful images that passed through her head.

“Shh, shh. Oh, dear,” Hyunjin quickly grabbed a spare handkerchief on the night stand beside his bed as you sat up, murmuring comforting words as you cupped Naeun's cheeks gently. 

“Naeun, my little princess,” you said softly, looking into her sparkling eyes as large crocodile tears rolled down her cheeks, “Mama and Papa are right here. We'll always be here for you, alright? No matter what happens, your Mama and Papa would never, ever abandon you like that.”

The little girl sniffled as Hyunjin wiped away her tears, smiling fondly, “Your mother said it best, petal. No matter what, we'll be here to support you, protect you, and love you until you've grown sick of our coddling.” 

Hyunjin couldn't help but add in a little teasing, booping her nose as he said, “Even after you grow sick of us, we'll still stick annoyingly close.”

Naeun scrunched her nose as she always did when hyunjin messed with her, and she frowned, “I won't ever get sick of Papa and Mama. Never!”

“Oh, one day, you'll take those words back,” you added playfully as you tickled Naeun's little tummy, making her squeal with delight and effectively drawing the nightmare out of her immediate thoughts. Hyunjin joined in, tag teaming your poor daughter until she was too exhausted to keep her eyes open. 

"Love Papa... Love Mama," Naeun mumbled sleepily as she curled into the warm blankets, beginning to fall asleep. You smiled at her words, pressing a kiss to her hair. 

"Mama and Papa love you more than anything else in the whole world," you reassured her, brushing the stray hairs out of her face, "Get some sleep, little one.  Nothing can hurt you here." 

Naeun mumbled in acknowledgment, and her little hands wrapped around Hyunjin’s pinky, making her father’s heart positively melt, “Papa...sing.”

“Sing?” He repeated, slightly flustered as he shifted to a more comfortable position, making sure that Naeun was still able to hold onto his pinky. 

“Mhm, Papa sing,” Naeun nodded as she curled up into a little ball, bringing Hyunjin's hand to her chest as she began to doze off on her own.

You couldn't help but giggle as you burrowed into the covers as well, wrapping a gentle around your daughter as you smiled up at Hyunjin, “Won't you honor a princess’s request?” You teased.

Hyunjin pouted at you, scrunching his nose much like how Naeun had done only minutes before, “But I'm the king,” he said petulantly, making Naeun giggle at his antics, “I can do whatever I want!”

“Well, your Queen is now requesting a song as well,” you said with an air of playful haughtiness as Naeun and you shared a conspiratorial glance.

“Oh dear,” Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair, “then, I believe I don't have a choice if my Queen and my Princess so insist.”

“You don't!” Naeun chirped in, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Hyunjin let out a dramatic sigh before propping himself up against the headboard and pulling Naeun into his chest so she could rest comfortably in his arms. He didn't forget you, of course, and laced his fingers with yours as you decided not to move around as much, resting on your side of the bed as you held his hand.

The sound of soft-spoken singing wafted into your ears like a gentle breeze. Hyunjin, albeit not a professional in any way, always had a nice voice. It was the kind of voice that could lull you into relaxation, the kind of voice that soothed your unsettled heart. Before long, your eyes grew too heavy to keep open, and you drifted off to sleep with your hand wrapped around Hyunjin’s.

Hyunjin gazed down at his family as he slowly stopped singing, noticing that the two of you had fallen asleep. Without the prying eyes of the world boring down on him, he could finally drop his guard and his cold exterior to fully admire the two people he loved, the little girl in his arms that he treasured so dearly and you, the love of his life that showed him what it truly meant to have a soulmate, a person to confide in wholeheartedly. 

It was his little personal heaven, just to see the two of you sleeping safe and sound, to lie in bed with both his daughter and his wife just at arm's reach. He savored it as much as he could, squeezing your hand once more before putting down himself, pulling the warm covers higher over Naeun to keep her healthy. And not for the first time, Hyunjin wistfully dreamed of a life where he was not the king, where he could be a simple man, only tasked to provide and love his family. 

Hyunjin knew he would be asking for too much. He knew what the two of you had promised to those that had put their faith in your hands. You'd promised to protect them, to wear the crown and carry the burdens of your kingdom, no matter how bruised, bloodied or battered the journey made you. 

But as he stared down at your peaceful expression, your lips slightly parted and your eyes fluttered shut, he couldn't help but remember the terror he felt just hours before, the all consuming fear that you would disappear from his life. And for the first time, Hyunjin was at a loss, facing a crossroad that—in the naivety of his youth—he never thought he’d encounter.

If he had to choose between you or his country, what would he do? If he had to protect the integrity of his kingdom and sacrifice Naeun, would he be able to do it? Before you came along, Hyunjin cared about nothing but his work, his duty. But now, he had a family that he'd do anything to protect.

At the party, Hyunjin felt anger like he'd never felt before in his life. It was more than fury, it was pure rage. He would've been willing to lock the doors and interrogate every single person present in the banquet hall if you hadn't calmed him down. He didn't want to become a king like that, he didn't want to become a ruler than put his own needs and his family’s needs before everything else. 

But if he lost you, if he lost Naeun, if he lost his unborn child, his whole world would shatter. It was almost terrifying how much the past five years had changed him. 

“Hyunjin,” his eyes flew open as he suddenly felt your thumb brush against the back of your hand. Turning his head, he realized that you had woken up, your eyes gazing at him with a mixture of sympathy and love that Hyunjin wanted to drown in.

“You're thinking too much again,” you murmured sleepily, playing absently with his fingers without jostling Naeun, “At this point, you'll have wrinkles before you're even middle aged.”

The king couldn't help but chuckle at your little quip, pressing a kiss to your hand, “I'm sorry, my love. Did I wake you?”

“No, I woke up on my own,” you reassured him, “But I'm glad I did. What's wrong, darling?”

Hyunjin bit his lip, hesitating for a moment. He shouldn't bother you with his feelings, not when you already had to worry about yourself on top of the baby you were carrying. 

“Hyunjin,” you murmured his name once more, and he felt his body shudder at how sweet, how loving you sounded, “You can tell me anything.” 

It was the only gentle nudge he needed.

“I'm worried about this,” Hyunjin said softly, “Our family. I can't stop worrying. I didn't know about the poison, even though all the food and drinks were inspected. When will it ever be enough?”

You squeezed his hand, “You're putting too much responsibility on yourself. The family’s safety is not your burden to bear alone, it is for us to share.”

Hyunjin nodded, “I know,” he sighed, running a hand through his midnight hair, “I know, Y/N. But I just wish I could do more.”

“You do more than enough for us, darling,” you reassured him, “You do more than any king would do for their families. It's alright, Hyunjin. You're doing so well.”

“I am?” Hyunjin sucked in a breath, placing your hand on his cheek as he closed his eyes, revelling in your words and your presence. 

“You are.”

These were not honey coated words to soothe a monarch and appease his temper. You meant them more than you could ever express. You knew Hyunjin was trying his best. You knew Hyunjin was most likely protecting you from forces that you weren't even aware of, just like the way you'd dealt with Minho just earlier. 

“I found out who did it, by the way,” you mumbled, figuring that this felt like the right time to tell him in hopes that Hyunjin might sleep better knowing that the problem was dealt with.

There was a moment of deathly silence before Hyunjin uttered a single word, "Who?" 

You sighed. Maybe this wasn't the best idea after all, especially since your daughter was soundly sleeping in the space between the both of you, "Promise that you won't do anything rash right now." 

"You're asking me not to do anything rash when I find out who tried to murder my unborn child and harm my wife?" Hyunjin asked in disbelief. 

“I'm asking you not to overreact now while your daughter is sleeping," you hissed back, "I handled it for the time being." 

Hyunjin let out a frustrated sigh, "Alright, you win. You have my word,” he said, lacing his fingers with yours.

You bit your lip, wondering if it would just be easier to be completely honest or to ease into it gently. After a moment of consideration, you decided on the former. 

“It’s Minho.”

Hyunjin reacted without thinking, feeling the rage run through his veins once again as he began to sit up, “That bastard--”

As he shifted aggressively, Naeun whined in her sleep, beginning to squirm. You wrapped your arm around her body as your other hand grabbed Hyunjin’s sleeve, “You promised!”

Hyunjin’s steeled eyes softened as he looked down at the little girl beside him, and he slumped back on the bed, pressed a kiss to her forehead and rubbing her back, helping soothe her back to a deep sleep, “I should’ve gotten rid of him earlier. I knew he disliked your presence, but I thought--I thought he’d be able to see past the differences.”

“As did I,” you admitted, running your fingers gently through Naeun’s hair as her whimpers stopped and slowly went back to soft breaths, “but it seems like he disappointed both of us.” 

The king sighed tiredly, feeling the rest of his fiery hot anger dissipate as he turned to lie on his side, his eyes trained on Naeun as he made sure she was asleep, “You said you handled it. Let me guess, it was when you ‘went for a walk.’” 

“You know me too well,” Flicking his forehead playfully, you couldn’t help but smile, “Yes, we had a quick conversation as I was walking back to the chambers. I don’t believe he will try it again any time soon.”

“I would ask what you told him, but I almost don’t want to know,” Hyunjin said with a hint of a smile as he closed his eyes, “My wife can be very scary when she wants to be.”

You shrugged, stroking his cheek fondly for a moment longer before pulling your hand away and lying back down, “I’m the same as you, Jinnie. Anything to protect this family we’ve created.”

Hyunjin hummed in agreement, his long arm draping over to wrap around both you and Naeun, “Anything. But for now, let’s sleep. Thank you, Y/N.”

“Whatever for?” You asked curiously, unsure of what Hyunjin was thinking about in that little head of his. 

“For being here. For loving me. For everything you do,” he mumbled, already beginning to fall asleep    as his words began to slur. Your heart felt warm and fluttery as you smiled, patting the back of his hand as you mumbled your sleepy reply.

“I’ll always be here for you, Jinnie. You’re not alone anymore.”

Hyunjin cracked a smile at that, and hugged you and Naeun ever so slightly tighter in his arms. You were right. He wasn’t alone anymore. He had you and Naeun, whom he loved with every fiber of his being. He had Changbin and Felix, who were slowly becoming less like guards and more like their surrogate family. 

And for all those reasons, Hwang Hyunjin fell asleep considering himself quite lucky. 

[inkykeiji]

bright light city gonna set my soul on fire

ace anon said: wanna suggest dabi taking you to a poker game as a good luck charm then betting you on a game and losing...or winning and bragging about it by fucking you on the table

genre: smut + implied crooked secret agent/spy AU set in the late 1950s???

notes: AH ace i loved this idea SO MUCH it ended up sparking an entire fic!! heavily inspired by ian fleming’s 1953 novel casino royale + martin campbell’s 2006 film casino royale. it is set in clari’s version of the 1950s and in no way historically accurate!! think of it as an AU of the 1950s, if that makes sense ehehe | title credit: viva las vegas by elvis | songs mentioned in the fic itself: don’t and i beg of you by elvis, rockin’ robin by bobby day

warnings: 18+, period typical use of the word Daddy (not with dabi), inappropriate use of the word Mister, slight degradation, mentioned somnophilia, slight dacryphilia, minimal prep, night terrors, blood, murder, generally toxic codependant relationship, one implied mention of drug use (morphine), mentions of tense family dynamics

words: 8.5k

synopsis:

Yes, as much as he’d like to deny it, it’s true; Dabi fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you.

Because Dabi saw more than just a pretty little thing when your gazes first met.

He saw the perfect weapon, a diamond in the rough just waiting—begging—to be cleaned and cut and formed into the most brilliant gem, into the most ideal accomplice for him—because, really, what’s more dangerous than a beautiful woman? Especially when she looks like innocence personified?

Sticky pink candy, translucent and gleaming with saliva, clacks against teeth as you roll the heart-shaped lollipop around in your mouth, twirling the stick between your index finger and your thumb.

Legs kick idly as you lean back on your other hand, seated on the edge of Tomura’s massive, pristine mahogany desk, watching as his personal tailor helps Dabi shrug on a navy tuxedo jacket, stitched and sown perfectly to his measurements.

“I dunno,” he’s saying as he pivots his body a little, making a face at himself in the mirror. “I still think the black looks better,”

Ruby eyes roll up towards the ceiling, a frustrated groan spilling from between Tomura’s lips.

“You always think the black looks better. We’re going with the navy, it brings out your eyes,” he gives the back of Dabi’s head a sharp look before strolling towards you, features softening as he observes—the perfect picture of innocence, legs swinging slowly in cute little motions, strawberry lollipop sucked against the roof of your mouth, sparkling eyes floating from your boyfriend’s broad shoulders to his—your—boss’s face as he advances.

“Gimme some,” he demands, large hands finding your knees and halting your movement, using his hipbones to push them wider, making a space for himself between them and sticking his tongue out. With a giggle, you place the now misshapen candy on his tongue, gasping loudly as he snatches the candy from you, movements too quick for you to catch, and jumps away with the grace of a cat.

“Daddy!”

Tomura snickers around the lollipop in his mouth, sucking it into his cheek as he speaks around it. “Aw, come now, don’t pout,” his bottom lip pushes out to mimic your expression, tilting his head in false sympathy. “I’m sure your Mister will buy you another,”

“He better,” you mumble through your pout, eyebrows knitting together as arms cross tightly over your chest, eyes flitting to Dabi.

“I will, dollface, I will,” he vows distractedly, gaze not straying from his fingers reflected in the mirror as they fiddle with his bowtie.

“Promise, Mister?”

“Promise, baby, promise,”

Dabi’s already been briefed on the specifics of this mission—something to do with playing a poker game with a bunch of other crooked hotshots at the Sahara hotel in Las Vegas, but that’s all you know. That’s all you’re authorized to know.

Despite being Dabi’s accomplice and working for Tomura’s underground organization, you’re rarely allowed to be in Tomura’s office while the briefing happens. It’s sensitive information, dollface, and the less you know the better, and don’t misbehave now, sit pretty and quiet like a good little girl until the big boys are finished, and then Daddy and Mister will give you a pretty reward.

But! you had protested with a bottom lip involuntarily jutted out. But maybe, if I know more, I can be of better help—

But Tomura had shut that idea down before it had even finished leaving your lips.

No. Absolutely not. It’s for your own good—your own safety, you little brat—why can’t you understand that? 

You do understand that, you’ve been told a thousand times—your specialty is distractions, used to keep enemies occupied before Dabi splatters their brains on marble floors, or to pry information out of men weak to the smile of a pretty girl.

And, to be fair, Tomura does reward you pretty generously, with glittering evening gowns and designer pumps and all the handbags a gal could ever want.

You turn back to face him, red lips spread into a cunning, mischievous smile, a smile he knows all too well, a smile Dabi loves—because he taught it to you—and Tomura hates—because it means you’re about to get what you want. “So. How much money are you giving me to play with this time, Daddy?”

Tomura’s face screws up, nose scrunching. “None,” he spits, removing the lollipop from his mouth. Tiny hands grab at the air, reaching for it like a child, Tomura swiping it just out of grasp as he continues his scolding. “Last time, you nearly bought the entire shopping complex,”

“Ah, c’mon, boss,” Dabi says around a cigar, still standing in front of the full-length mirror and smoothing down his clothing. “Give the lil lady a lil somethin’, will ya?”

“Yeah, boss, c’mon,” you plead, mimicking your boyfriend, adorning your face with your signature pout and award-winning puppy-dog eyes.

“Absolutely not.” His voice is stern as he speaks, facial features hard in finality and resolution, but his eyes—irises a crimson so brilliant, so beautiful it’s terrifying, almost looks as if it’s glowing—are beginning to waver.

“You know, if you don’t, then I’m sure I’ll get bored in that big city all by myself while Dabi’s working,” you begin in a singsong voice, eyebrows raising. “And you know what happens when I get bored, Daddy,”

“She gets int’a trouble,” Dabi grumbles, eyes catching yours through the mirror, though there’s a smirk forming around the cigar, held between sharp gleaming ivory teeth.

“S’true,” you nod simply, eyelashes fluttering as you gaze at Tomura. “Please, Daddy? Pretty please? I swear I won’t spend too much this time,”

“Jus’ give ‘er your credit card r’somethin’,” Dabi waves a hand in nonchalance before patting down his pockets. “I’ll keep a’eye on ‘er, promise,”

“Take that damn cigar out of your mouth and speak properly,” Tomura spits, and you and Dabi share another look, another smirk, through the mirror. “Fine, alright? Fine,” nimble fingers pull out a sleek leather wallet, flipping it open and searching through the card slots, grumbling to himself. “Christ, the two of you are insufferable, I swear to God,”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you giggle, soft and gentle and innocent, all of the things you weren’t mere moments ago. Platinum plastic gleams in your fingers as you tilt the card in the light, gaze captivated by the way it sparkles and glitters as you speak again. “Promise I’ll bring you back something neat,”

     ✰          ✰          ✰

It’s been a few years now since the two of you met, since the two of you became partners, and Dabi swears to high heaven and back that he had tried his hardest not to fall in love with you, cross his heart, hope to die.

At least, that’s what he likes to tell himself. In actuality, he fell for you the moment he laid eyes on you—it’s as cliché and cheesy as one of those Jimmy Dean flicks, but goddamn it, it’s true all the same.

Doesn’t help that that’s one of the first things you said to him, though.

You look like Jimmy Dean, Mister, you had giggled dainty behind your hand, batting those long, thick eyelashes as you gazed up at him, gracious and polite and all the things a good little girl like you should be. Is supposed to be.

It made him want to fucking ruin you. It sparked a white-hot fire deep in the pit of his stomach, a blaze that grew, and grew, and grew with each of your cute mannerisms. It procured an inferno full of pure desire, heady and intoxicating, that nearly engulfed him in an instant.

“Oh, yeah?” he had asked with a smirk, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest, tongue running along his front teeth as he steadily held your eyes. “‘N why’s that, little miss?”

Those eyes, the sparkling ones that had been so bold only a moment ago, bashfully flitted down to the teal typewriter sitting in front of you on a large oak desk, fiddling a little with your nails against the worn keys.

Baby pink. Cute.

“Oh I—I—” your gaze flashed up to his for a moment, intense cobalt burning into your very skull, before you averted your stare again. “Well, I-I don’t mean to be rude, Mister, it’s just that—your hair,”

Sapphire eyes flicked up, as if to gaze at his forehead, as if he were able to see his own hair from just that motion, eyebrows raising with the action.

“S’all messy like the way he wears his. You know, when he’s not doing a picture and all that,”

And you noticed your mistake immediately, eyes widening, tongue tripping over your words in your haste to correct yourself, to speak properly, like a lady. “I-It’s all messy, s-sorry, excuse me, it’s all messy like the way he wears his,”

A smirk, slow and dangerous, spread across his face as he observed you, tilting his head a little as his eyes travelled down your neck, to your shoulders and the sweetheart neckline of that pretty, pretty dress, and then back up again, narrowing slightly as they did so. It’s in that moment that Dabi first wondered what you’d sound like underneath him while sharp hipbones bruise his name into the tender flesh of your inner thighs, how you’d slur your words together then.

His voice was a touch huskier when he spoke again. “You like Jimmy, miss?”

“I sure do,” you nodded, painted lips morphing into a little melancholic smile as you looked down at the typewriter again. “It’s a real shame he passed,”

“Sure is,” Dabi mimicked your movement, giving a simple nod in agreement. “But thank you for the compliment, doll, I’ll take it,”

Your head snapped back up. “Oh, c’mon, m’not stupid y’know,” you huffed with a roll of your eyes and a light laugh.

“No?”

The traces of amusement that played in his azure eyes had your own narrowing a little in response, sitting up straighter as you rolled your shoulders back.

“No,” you shook your head. “I know who you are,”

“Yeah? And who’s that?”

“Touya.”

And it’s the way you said his birthname, the way your lips curled into a devious little smile around the word, the way one of your perfectly arched eyebrows raised in question, in challenge, that had confirmed it for him, right then and there, in that stupidly luxurious office.  

“Touya Todoroki.”

He was sure he had to have you. He was positive he had to make you his—forever.

“You’ve been compared to Jimmy since he debuted—”

“And you know this because—”

“—because I read Time and Vogue and all those other stupid magazines, just like all the other women in this country. And I’ve seen you,” you paused to point a manicured nail at him. “On or in every single one,”

Oh, and he was sure you had, sure you knew that he was notorious for stealing several of his father’s girlfriends when he was in his early twenties, infamous for fucking them and then selling the Polaroid’s and information to vying tabloids and the like. He always did like to spice up those stories a little, to fluff them and make them a hint more scandalous, glamorous—those ones always sold for more.

Not that he needed the money.

“It’s rude to point, baby,” he winked before he straightened up, pushed himself off the wall and stalked towards your desk, stopping in front of it as large hands splayed out on the wood, and leaned close to your face.

“And I don’t go by that name anymore, sweetheart,” he had told you, voice smooth as scotch over ice, though something dangerous glinted in his eyes as they carefully searched your face, something omnious etched into the sharp smile on his face

A shiver crawled up your spine, frosty and slow, fingers tiptoeing up each vertebra as you nodded your understanding. “Y-Yes, sir,”

The door to your boss’s office had swung open then, Dabi straightening up and spreading his arms out in a grand sweeping movement.

“David!” he greeted as if the two were old friends, large smile stretched too tight across his face as he walked forward and clapped a large hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “How are you doing?”

He murdered your boss that day. You didn’t know, of course, didn’t have a goddamn clue until over a month later, Dabi had made sure of that. But by the time you found out, you were already in too deep; too enamoured by him, wholly captivated by him in every sense of the word, too dependant on him, to care at all.

He had made it quick—quiet and painless and looking as if it was an accident, strolling out of the office only a few moments later and asking you out on a date like nothing had happened, words flowing smoothly from his lips in that drawl that is so distinctly him, almost lazy in a way, glittering lidded sapphire scalding your skin with its intensity.

Yes, as much as he’d like to deny it, it’s true; Dabi fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you.

Because Dabi saw more than just a pretty little thing when your gazes first met.

He saw the perfect weapon, a diamond in the rough just waiting—begging—to be cleaned and cut and formed into the most brilliant gem, into the most ideal accomplice for him—because, really, what’s more dangerous than a beautiful woman? Especially when she looks like innocence personified?

Nothing, that’s what.

Honestly, he did you a favour—he swears he could see it in your eyes, sparkling as they gazed at him like he sculpted the moon himself, pleading for someone—for him—to come along and take care of you, to put you in your place, to keep you in line, absolutely desperate for someone to mold you, shape you, construct and arrange you into his most perfect creation.

Perfect, perfect, perfect, that’s what you are; so good for him, so obedient and compliant, always hanging on his every word and eagerly awaiting his next command, enthusiastic to submit to him, to please him, to receive the praise you crave so badly.

And Tomura had agreed, too, after only fifteen minutes of meeting you, of observing you, of assessing you, that you’d be a flawless addition to their operation.

So Dabi did what he does best.

He started slow, of course, enchanted you with strings of pearls and gorgeous dresses and expensive dinners, fed you tidbits about his mysterious lifestyle, about his family and his job and his past, just enough to keep you coming back for more, until you were practically begging him to let you in, to permit you to join his vocation, to accompany him on the wild ride that is his life.

And that was the best part of all—you didn’t care, you wanted it just as badly as he did; wanted to help him, to serve him, to be his, without ever requiring the full story. You readily gave everything up for him, accepted his orders, his wants and his needs without as much as a single question, never faltering in your honesty, in your pure devotion to your creator.

It’s love in its truest form, you’re both sure of it—possessed by one another, infatuated with one another, dedicated to one another—both consumed by the most potent drug, this love, a force to be reckoned with, the strongest pull either of you have ever felt before.

And, really, what more could you ask for?

     ✰          ✰          ✰

He took you under his wing, crafted you into a master of manipulation, pairing it perfectly with that innocent kitten demeanour you wear so well, and taught you everything he knew: all of the infiltration techniques and self-defence he had learned before he was ostracized from his father’s company—a privatized intelligence agency that works closely with the federal government—the very organization he’s been working so tirelessly to burn to the ground.

You still don’t exactly know what happened. He doesn’t like to talk about it, about where those scars decorating his body came from, about why he’s thrown away his old identity and constructed a new one, trading ivory hair and a high-fashion wardrobe for inky black and weathered Levi jeans with big black motorcycle boots.

But you do know a little.

He had been the favourite son, the chosen son, the one set to inherit the empire his father had built. That was, until he got himself into an accident—one that he still isn’t ready to disclose the full details of, and you never push. But you know it had involved a twelve year old Touya—always devious, crafty, and ever-so intelligent, even as a child—sneaking along on a mission he absolutely shouldn’t have. The silvery burns that adorn his skin, puckered and soft and shimmering like moonlight when they catch in the sun, scars tinged with the slightest hint of baby pink, are from this incident. Whatever had happened after had scarred his soul forever.

Because you’ve never encountered such intense hatred, burning bright blue flames that rage and roar inside of him, the words that are spit from between clenched teeth when he talks about his father, about his baby brother, positively scalding.

But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know the full story, that you aren’t entirely aware of why this vendetta against his family exists. It doesn’t matter that his one goal in life, his only true desire aside from you, is to take down his father. It doesn’t matter that he’s willing to do anything and use everyone to achieve his objective.

Because he is letting you in; slowly, bit by bit and piece by piece, the most fascinating and tragically beautiful jigsaw you’ve ever put together. He may never be ready to tell the full story, and that’s alright with you, because as you’ve reassured him countless times in the dead of night, you’ll always love him anyway—you’ll always be by his side.

That’s when he’s most vulnerable, it seems—in the middle of the night, at two and three and four in the morning, when he wakes trembling and whimpering and soaked with his own sweat.

He never tells you what they’re about, the nightmares. Sometimes, they’re so violent that they wake you first. He doesn’t fuck you immediately on those days, doesn’t say a word as he finds solace in your warm bosom, little fingers pushing back sweaty strands of inky hair from his temples as your other arm wraps around him, holding him close to you as his shaky breathing calms, as his muscles stop quivering. On those nights, he says nothing as he spreads your legs and climbs on top of you, railing you into the mattress like it’s his last day on this earth.

That’s how he likes to be comforted; that’s what calms him down best. It’s standard procedure at this point—not that you mind waking up to his soft sniffles and him shoving himself into your barely prepped cunt, or rousing to feel the tip of his naked cock rubbing against your clit through thin cotton undies as he tells you in that wavering voice to stay sleeping and let your Mister take what he needs. You’re there to serve him—and you do, so perfectly. You just want to help, after all. You’ve always ever just wanted to help. You never know which nights he’ll gift you another little piece of himself, of his soul, for you to try and fit in somewhere in the puzzle that is DABI. You don’t know the triggers—as far as you’re concerned, they don’t seem to exist anywhere outside of the padlocked barricade of his own head, no rhyme or reason to them, more random than anything else. But you’ll readily accept anything and everything he’s willing to give, the very instant he’s willing to give it.

     ✰          ✰          ✰

Sprawled out on the hotel bed with his white t-shirt riding up and exposing your lacy panties, you watch, in an almost trancelike state, as Dabi does his hair in preparation for the game set to begin in an hour or so. He leaves it messy and ungreased when he isn’t working, all tousled and fluffy, a sea of half formed curls that flow into each other, akin to tremulous waves hours before a storm like an inky ocean atop his head. But he cleans up well, when it comes time to get down to business.

“Every little swallow, every chickadee, every little bird in the tall oak tree,”

Standing in front of the mirror clad in a white undershirt and his suit pants, he sings along to Bobby Day’s staticky voice as it flows through the small radio set on the bathroom counter, nimble fingers dipping into a tin of greasy pomade and gathering a generous glob, a responding giggle bubbling up in your chest.

“The wise old owl, the big black crow,” he catches your eye through the mirror, a devilish smile materializing on his face as he continues, lathering his hands together. “Flap-a their wings singin’ ‘go bird go’,”

“Should’a been a singer, I’m telling ya,” you say as you roll onto your stomach, chin resting in your palms and head propped up, eyes glittering. “Could’a rivalled Elvis,”

Huffing out a laugh accompanied by a roll of his eyes, his hands begin to rake through his hair, slathering it with the substance and slicking most of it back from his face, sure to leave a few curls at the start of his hairline untouched. “So sweet you’re gonna rot my teeth, baby,”

“M’serious!” you insist, blinking at him as your eyebrows raise, watching the teeth of the black comb run through the slicked-up strands, his palm following close behind as he smooths it over; crisscross, crisscross, crisscross, fluff, pat, crisscross.

 “Uh-huh, uh-huh,” he shakes his head in disbelief, though there’s the faintest pink tinting his stubbled cheeks. “I think I’m better at this job,”

What? Playing poker with a bunch of criminals and making deals with mafiosos and murdering those who wrong you? you swallow the words, letters stinging and scraping your throat as you force them back down, schooling your face into a neutral expression. “I respectfully disagree,”

“‘Course you do,” he mumbles to himself distractedly, leaning closer to the mirror to complete the look. “Elvis, you say?”

He begins belting out lyrics in an exaggerated deep voice as he adds the finishing touch—your favourite part—slender fingers shining with residual pomade as they twirl and coat the few stray curls left neglected, allowing them to hang artfully in the middle of his forehead. 

“When I feel like this and I want to kiss youuu,” pivoting on his heel, he gazes at you with that shit-eating grin and continues. “Baby, don’t say doooon’t,”

“Oh, God, no, not Don’t!” you groan, flopping onto your back dramatically, face screwed up as if you had just tasted something sour.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he’s chuckling as he advances towards you, a small towel in his hands as he cleans them. “How ‘bout…” trailing off, he hums a little as he thinks.

“Hold my hand and promise,” he begins in a low voice, smooth and sweet like the finest melted chocolate, depositing of the towel and crawling onto the bed.

“That you’ll always love me too,”

Large hands gently pry your legs part, signature crooked smirk spreading across his face when he’s met with zero resistance, rough palms caressing silky skin as they slide up, fingers gripping and grabbing and kneading.

“Make me know you love me,”

The words taper off into a whine, beginning to sound more like begging than singing, as his body settles between your thighs, hipbones digging into the soft flesh while he hovers above you, supporting his weight on his forearms.

“The same way I love you, little girl,”

Lips trail along your jaw, leaving tender kisses in their wake—unhurried, careful, and full of purpose—as he mumbles against your skin.

“You got me at your mercy, now that I'm in love with you,”

Calloused hands begin to ruck up his t-shirt, digits dipping into the lacy waistband of your panties, his voice starting to tremble ever so slightly.

“So please don't take advantage, cause you know my love is true,”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, sapphire eyes gleaming in the golden sunlight and he pauses, blistering gaze searching your face for something, muscles relaxing and head dipping a moment later to finally press his lips against yours, whispering into the kiss. “Darling please, please love me too, I beg of you,”

And despite all the glitz and glamour, all the extravagance and exhilaration, that comes with each mission, this will always be your favourite part—when it’s only you and him, lounging around in some luxurious five star hotel or some dingy roadside motel, exchanging lazy, messy kisses full of stringy shining saliva, goofing around and whispering stupid Elvis lyrics to each other, words that hold more weight than either of you care to admit.

     ✰          ✰          ✰

It was supposed to be a fairly simple operation—minimal violence, Tomura had instructed. No guns or casualties, if it can be avoided, if Dabi can keep his temper in check. It was supposed to be easy, straightforward, safe.

It was supposed to be. But Dabi gets bored easily, likes a little spike of adrenaline with his missions, rolling his broad shoulders and cracking his neck as he joins the rest of the men around the poker table, a sly smirk on his face as they name the bets and the prizes.

“And my little doll,”

It’s hard to resist rolling your eyes as those four words slip from between his lips, slow and smooth in that deep, lazy drawl, trademark smirk painted across his lips as his lidded eyes scan the faces sitting around the table, an eyebrow raised, daring any of them to protest. Several hungry eyes dart towards you for a moment, standing like the reward you are a few feet behind Dabi and leaning on a railing, a shy little smile briefly gracing your lips in greeting, elegant evening gown shimmering under the crystal lights.

This isn’t new—Dabi usually bets you when he plays. Keeps him sharp, he claims. Keeps him on his toes, keeps it fun when there’s something important at stake, something valuable to lose, he says. He plays better that way, he promises.

Except he’s always craved that thrill of danger, has always liked to push further and further simply to see how far he can go before he topples over the edge. It’s a rush, a blast, a high akin to the morphine that so often flows through his veins, and he fucking lives for it.

It’s been over an hour now, since those words were murmured in that velvet voice, floating across the table and cloaking the thoughts of the other men like a lethal haze, most of whom can’t seem to keep their eyes from wandering back to you every so often, leering gazes coating your skin with grime you itch to scrub off.

But that’s the point—or it’s supposed to be, anyway. That’s the whole reason you’re here in the first place. To act as a distraction, Tomura’s words drift through your mind, just whisps of his voice that tickle the walls of your skull.

And what a perfect distraction you are, in a Dior dress that looks like it was made only for you, tapered perfectly to every curve and edge of your body, silk flowing gracefully with every miniscule movement, with every rise and fall of your chest.

But it bores you to tears, this poker game, eyes dry and sticky, sick of staring at the back of your boyfriend’s immaculate, intricate hair as his nimble fingers play with the mountain of chips accumulating in front of him, plastic clacking together as he shuffles through them.

You had begged him to let you go shopping—just for the first half of the game, you swear!—but he refused. I need my good luck charm there with me the entire time, babydoll, he told you, brushing calloused fingers down your cheek then tracing along the line of your jaw, gazing at you with brilliant sapphire that glitters in the late afternoon sun, streaming in through the hotel’s floor-length windows. We can go shopping after the game is finished, he promised.

You regarded him with skepticism.

“And dancing?”

“Of course,” he responded with a playful scoff. “We can dance until our feet are bleeding, pinky promise,”

Keigo comes to join you just before the game passes the two-hour mark, large hands finding purchase on your hips and pulling you back against his chest as his head dips down, soft full lips against your skin.

“Lovely dress you’ve got on,” he murmurs, breath hot against your ear, tickling the shell. “You look stunning—breathtaking—I mean, gosh, look at me, I can barely breathe,” he gasps dramatically, chest heaving against your back as he does so, chuckling when you roll your eyes and giggle at him to shut up, Kei, the vibrations from his laugh a comforting sensation, a familiar sensation, a welcomed sensation, sending warmth spreading through your body. “I’m so happy you’re here,” you whine, leaning further into him and head tilting against his collarbone to gaze up at him. “I’m so bored,”

“Yeah, I bet,” he says, something unusual—unreadable—settling in his topaz eyes as he glances up at the table. “You aren’t used to games lasting this long, are you, baby,”

A little pout settles on your lips and you nod, playing right into his condescending cooing as you snuggle into him, eyes following his stare. Truthfully, you haven’t a clue what’s going on, and, really, you couldn’t care less. You aren’t entirely sure what the significance of this poker game is, or who most of these men are, and you aren’t allowed to. Just sit pretty and perfect like you always do; it’s the thing you do best.

Except tonight—tonight something is different, unsettling, off. It’s no big deal, though, of course—you can almost hear that deep, dark voice drawling the words out in your mind, phantom breath tickling your skin.

Because Dabi’s always been startlingly good at what he does. Because Dabi’s always been able to worm his way out of a difficult situation. Because there’s never really been a reason to worry about it before, anyway. But tonight—well, tonight you’re watching as his Balenciaga clad shoulders are getting tenser, and tenser, as his jaw is clenching tighter, and tighter, as his grip on that singular sparkly chip resting in his palm is becoming stronger, and stronger, thin skin stretching painfully over sharp bony knuckles.

Keigo’s breath is bated, his fingers digging into your hips as he observes the game unfolding in front of the both of you, pulling you closer to him, hushed curses falling from his lips every so often. And Keigo knows what’s happening, of course, but he refuses to tell you, promising you that you wouldn’t understand even if he tried to explain it. Creases form on your forehead as your eyebrows knit, eyes drifting back to the table. Whatever it is, it’s clear that it isn’t good, Keigo’s body tensing against yours as he sucks in a breath and holds it for a moment before blowing it out from his mouth, exasperated.   “Well, I’m positive it’s fine,” you say, trying to wave it off lightly, to whisk away the acrimonious dread that roots deep in the pit of your stomach and begins to spread, thick and dense as it slithers into your surrounding organs, to brush off the impending sense of foreboding that seems to lurk over you, getting heavier and heavier, darker and darker with each second that ticks by—though your voice sounds high to your ears, tinny and false. “Dabi’s never lost a game before, that’s why they send him to these things,” But Keigo doesn’t sound so sure, responding with a nervous breath of a laugh, lithe fingers flexing on your hips, rubbing little lopsided circles into the flesh. “First time for everything, songbird,”

The words send ice piercing through your veins, but you persevere, rolling your shoulders and standing up a little straighter, swallowing past the painful lump that’s lodged itself in your throat. It’s fine. It’s always fine. He’s always found a way to get out of messy, tight situations before. Why should tonight be any different?

It won’t be, it isn’t—you can already see Dabi collapsing on the cream sofa upstairs in your luxurious hotel room, tugging at his bowtie with a sigh as his head falls back, nimble fingers popping the first few buttons on his crisp white dress shirt, and had you scared for a moment there, didn’t I, kitten?

And you’ll playfully slap his shoulder as you crawl into his lap, roll your eyes as you straddle his hips and allow him to tilt the champagne flute to your lips, laugh it off as his hands begin to wander, rucking up your dress and kneading your ass, cock tenting his expensive trousers. Like always. You’re sure of it

It’s just past the three-hour mark when Keigo speaks again, all traces of teasing, of that easygoing lilt that is so distinctly him, gone from his voice. Golden locks stand in all directions, his hair having fallen out of its usual ducktail style, a curtesy of fingers raking through it nervously. His smile is tight as he looks down at you, front teeth nibbling at his cuticles as he speaks, muffled a little by his fingers. “Maybe we should get you out of here, sweetheart—”

“No,” you respond instantly with a firm shake of your head. “I’m not going anywhere,”

“Sunshine, listen—”

“I said, no, Kei,” you pull back a little to look at him, resolution sown into your voice, chest puffing out just a touch. “I won’t leave him,”

Honey eyes hold yours for a moment, and you can almost hear Keigo’s molars as they grind together. He exhales a deep sigh a moment later, shaking his head and tugging his fingers through golden strands again. “Alright, alright,” It finally comes to an end, a few minutes past the four-hour mark. Heavy lids start to lift as commotion begins to stir—soft murmurs among the men and chairs scraping against the floor, plastic chips clacking together and the sharp whisp that travels through the air as cards are shuffled—whining a little as you lean further into Keigo, who is now supporting most of your weight.

“Kei, feet hurt,”

“Shh, I know, songbird,” he hushes you, a large palm stroking your head. “But I need you to wake up, sweetheart,”

Rough, unfamiliar hands are wrapping around your arms only a moment later, yanking you from the warm sanctuary that is Keigo and hauling you against stiff muscle.

“I believe you’re mine now, darling,”

The words are gravelly, uttered in a low voice against the crown of your head. A vicious shiver crawls along your skin, whole body trembling with the force of it, as your lids snap open.

“Wait, what?” frantic eyes search the gaudy room for familiar cobalt, breath beginning to accelerate as you struggle a little in the grasp of a burly man with one eye. His grip tightens in retaliation and a pained yelp hitches in your throat, Dabi’s eye twitching at the sound. “Dabi? D-Dabi!”

Sapphire blazes into your skull, steadily holding your watery gaze as his jaw clenches, swallowing thickly at the sound of your pitiful little whimpers of his name, at the way you squirm and wiggle in your abductor's grasp, desperate to escape, to get back to him.

“H-Hold on, now,” Keigo begins, holding his hands up in surrender, a motion meant to signify peace, to signify that he isn’t a threat—even though you know he’s got the cold metal of his favourite pistol tucked into the waistband of his trousers and pressed against his warm skin. “Let’s talk this through, yeah? Just wait a minute—”

“Nope,” the man cuts Keigo off mid-sentence with a loud, harsh laugh, and you wince at the sound. “No way, a deal’s a deal, friend. I won her fair and square—she’s mine,”

A light chuckle, laced with irritation and dubiety, escapes Keigo’s lips as he shakes his head a little. “Come on, Dabi jokes around like that all the time,” and while his voice seems amicable on the surface, its ridden with cold undertones, phantom threats that are felt, not said. “And this little lady—as pretty as she is—is a person, not a prize. Taking her against her will is, in fact, kidnapping, and I’ll be forced to—”

“Let him go,”

“What?” the word falls from your lips and Keigo’s simultaneously—one incredulous and pitched high with distress, the other breathed out in disbelief, both equally as concerned—gazes snapping to Dabi, who sits quiet and brooding, dim lights casting shadows on the sharp planes of his face.

Azure drifts between your faces, features ridden with terror and alarm—furrowed brows and deep frowns tugging at the corners of lips, one pair of eyes wide with scepticism, the other pair glistening with tears. Dabi’s silent for another moment before he pushes on his knees and stands, squaring his shoulders and clearing his throat, voice ringing out loud and clear, dripping with admonition. “Let him go. He’s right; he won her, fair and square,”

He speaks slowly, annunciating each word with careful precision, sapphire glinting in the dim light has he holds the muscular man’s gaze. It holds something threatening, something menacing, something terrifying deep within the depths of his eyes, and you feel your captor pause for a second, tense, and then shiver.

“Uh, r-right,” he says, voice wavering a little as he nods to himself. “Fair and square,”

Dabi stalks towards you, shiny oxfords echoing against the pristine, freshly waxed marble floor, tutting his tongue and shaking his head, casual and relaxed as ever.

“Don’t struggle, you hear me?” he says, voice softer, gentler, as a calloused thumb swipes across your cheekbone, catching a stray tear. “Be a good girl for him,”

And I’ll see you soon.

The promise doesn’t need to be vocalized—you can see it, shining bright and true in his sapphire eyes, can sense it, in the air surrounding him, can feel it, at the very core of your soul.

A sudden sense of relief floods your body, pathetic little sobs getting caught in your chest as you exhale shakily and deflate in the burly man’s arms, tears finally spilling over your lashline and streaming down your cheeks.

“Okay,” you breathe.

Dabi gives you a simple nod, lips quirking up into a ghost of his signature lopsided smirk. Okay.

And just like that, all of the fear and trepidation and panic vanishes from your body, a serene calm chased by a sense of giddiness replacing it, scorching through your veins.

Because before the door to the man’s hotel room has even swung fully shut, Dabi’s barreling through, crystal handle smashing against the wall and cracking as skilled fingers tangle in short hair, yanking the man’s head back with a sickening crack and dragging the razor-sharp edge of his favourite switchblade across the man’s exposed throat.

He moves like a flash of light, a spark igniting a fire, so fast he’s merely a blur of black and navy and blazing sapphire. Thick crimson begins pouring from the wound immediately, a large splice spanning from one earlobe all the way to the other.

The man hits the shiny hardwood floor with a distinct thump, but you aren’t paying attention to him or the way he’s writhing as he tries to claw at his neck, coughing and gagging as he begins to choke on his own blood.

No, you’re captivated by sapphire, bright and burning as it surges towards you, calloused hands seizing your face roughly as chapped lips find yours, unforgiving and ferocious, bloody knife still in one hand, cool metal pressed against your cheek, smearing streaks of scarlet across your skin as you try to get closer to him, to get more, the stench of copper stinging your nose.

It’s eradicated in an instant though, Dabi’s heady scent—campfire and hickory wood and expensive cologne—filling your lungs, your mind, your entire being as it curls around you in the most intoxicating embrace, familiar and comforting and him, him, him. Stumbling backwards, you just about trip over your own feet as Dabi shoves forward, strong hands wrapped around your biceps keeping you steady. The sharp edge of the small rosewood dining table digs into your lower back, Dabi swallowing your resounding yelp as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs, large hands finding your waist and squeezing before he hoists you onto its surface, using his hipbones to force your thighs open.

You nearly topple over from the power, from the urgency, hands flying out behind you and grappling against the table’s surface to keep you sitting upright as he heaves and pushes and leans against you, motions knocking sparkling crystal glasses and fine porcelain plates off the top.

The sound of shattering glass and cracking china mingles with the gurgling and garbling of the man who lay a few feet away on the floor, suffocating on his own blood. It creates such a beautiful symphony, intertwined with Dabi’s ragged breaths and your broken moans, with the ruffling of clothing and the screech of the table legs against the gleaming hardwood floor. And it’s desperate, and needy, and messy, teeth clashing and clacking together violently, saliva dripping down chins as tongues rub and glide and lick, hands pawing and gripping and tugging and ripping, the delicate material of your silk Dior dress practically turning to ash as his fingers materialize through it, tearing it to shreds.

“Off, off, off, I need this off,” he’s growling against your lips as his hands work, a low whine getting caught in your throat as you nod frenetically.

Yes, yes, yes, you’re whimpering, your own little fingers helping him destroy the silvery fabric, eager and anxious to rid your body of the bothersome garment.

A guttural groan, deep and dark and inducing a fluttering in your tummy rumbles in his chest as his eyes roam over your body, clad in the daintiest white lace.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, y’know that,” he’s mumbling between sharp bites to the flesh of your neck, fingers snapping the clasp of your bra, breaking it in one simple motion. “A fuckin’ angel, that’s what you are, baby. My very own angel,”

Rough palms slide down your torso, slow and purposeful as they trace, feel, knead the dips and curves, planes and contours of your body, slender fingers pausing to play with the elastic of the garter belt adorning your waist, holding up your lace-trimmed thigh-highs which have begun to tear, then hooking in the waistband of your thong.

His cock grinds against your inner thigh, hot and hard and throbbing as it strains against his trousers, digits toying with the lacy elastic, twirling it between his fingers before he lets it snap back against your skin, the harsh slap! echoing throughout the hotel room. 

“Oh, Mister, I want it,” the plead falls from your lips in a shameless moan, high and whiny as your hips press forward in an attempt to grind against him. Slender fingers untangle themselves from the lacy fabric in an instant, gripping your hips to still them, fingertips digging into your flesh. “I need it,”

“Need what, dollface?” his lips brush against your skin as he speaks, teeth sinking into your collarbone a moment later, hard enough to break the skin, a loud cry getting caught in your chest. He sucks on the wound, hard, tongue laving over it in soothing little circles, slowly dragging over the bite.

And it’s a compulsion, a sickness, a fucking disease surging through your veins, infecting your mind with thoughts of him and only him, entire body buzzing with the desperate, pathetic, urgent need for him, for his cock, for his cum.

“Need you, need you,” you’re whimpering out, squirming and struggling a little in his grasp, a warning hiss spit through his teeth as blunt nails nip your skin. “Please, Dabi, please, lemme have it,”

“Have what, baby?” lips curling up into a coy smirk, he pulls back just enough to look at you, finally pushing his hips into yours, a patronizing laugh spilling from his throat as you instantly grind against his cock, impatient and impetuous. “Use your words, Mister wants to hear you say it,”

Scalding heat seeps into your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, a broken whine of complaint sounding in the back of your throat as you shake your head. “Y-You know,” you mumble. “You know,”

“Oh, come on, baby,” he tuts with a disappointed shake of his head, voice overflowing with condescension. “You act like such a little slut, but as soon as I want you to say what you apparently need oh-so-badly, you can’t? You get all shy and bashful like you’re innocent, or something?”

An arrogant chuckle bubbles up in his chest, a rough palm colliding with the flesh of your ass a moment later. Scarred lips graze your ear as he leans back in, speaking low and smooth, words leaving his mouth in a huff of warm, sweet breath. “You’re being bad, y’know that?”

The huskiness in his tone sends chills pebbling across your skin, a delicate shiver dancing up your spine.

“Please,” you whisper, bottom lip beginning to tremble. “Please, Mister, please,”

“Tell me,” he rasps, taking the lobe of your ear between his teeth and sucking, bruising his name into the sensitive skin. “I know you can do it, doll. What is it that you want? Tell me,”

And, God, it’s so embarrassing, vision blurring with the sting of tears, entire body beginning to tremble from the combined humiliation and lust surging through your veins, his clothed cock still rutting against your core, poking and prodding and so close, you’re so close, two tiny words, just say them. “Your—Your cock,” you almost yelp, blinking back the tears in your eyes as you try to gaze levelly at him, teeth digging into your bottom lip to quell its pathetic quivering. “W-Want your cock, please, Mister, I-I need it,”

“Yeah?” he breathes while he rests his forehead against yours, butting forward a little as his glazed eyes rapidly search your face, pupils blown to hell and lips bitten red, shining with spit. “Where, huh? Down here?”

A finger tugs the flimsy soaked lace to the side, another dark chuckle slipping from his lips as he drags a knuckle up your dripping slit.

“Here?” it presses into your cute little hole, your hips eagerly bucking forward in response.

“Yes, yes, there, Mister, there, please,” you keen, head nodding in almost frantic movements, skull knocking against his. “Please, n-no fingers, want your cock, need your cock, stretch me out, fill me up, I need it,”

And it’s your senseless babbling that does it, bratty and needy and incessant in high broken whines, that snaps the final thread of patience holding him back, and a growl rips from his chest, so violent it vibrates through your own.

The heavy buckle of his belt clinks as hasty fingers fiddle with it, shoving his trousers down his thighs just enough to free his cock.

You can’t help the mortifying moan that escapes your throat the moment you see it, velvety and pink and oh-so-pretty, flushed tip glistening with precum and two thick veins snaking around the shaft like vines.

“Christ,” he groans as he pushes into your cunt, burying himself inside of you in one swift thrust, your nails biting into the hard muscles of his shoulder through the thin material of his shirt as your hole stretches around him, both of you exhaling simultaneous sighs of relief.

It burns and it stings and God, you need more, eyes rolling back in your skull as the sharp heels of your stilettos dig into his lower back, little fingers tangling in white cotton as you try to pull him closer, closer, closer.

“Greedy little brat,” he snarls out as his hips begin snapping, the movement sudden, unexpected, welcomed, a choked cry of his name catching in your throat.

And it’s brutal and relentless, primal and desperate, lacking most of his usual finesse as he pounds into you, cockhead slamming against your cervix with every harsh thrust of his hips, hard enough to move the entire table itself, legs scraping against the floor a little more with each pump.

Inky curls cling to his forehead and temples, the white cotton of his dress shirt becoming translucent as it sticks to his damp skin, highlighting the hard planes of defined muscle that flex with each ragged inhale.

Surging forward, his tongue runs along the inside of your teeth before it drags against yours, slow and heavy, depositing his taste and staining it with the flavour of him, fiery cinnamon gum and smoky Marlboros. Gorgeous, needy little whines break in his throat in time with each strong piston of his hips, muffled by your mouth, and you greedily swallow whatever he’ll afford you.

It’s total sensory overload—he’s all you can see, all you can hear, all you can taste, touch, breathe, hijacking all of your receptors and overwhelming you with him.

It’s building inside of you, deep in the pit of your stomach, scorching flames that glow as blue as his eyes as they rage, climbing higher and higher, licking at your insides and expanding further and further until they finally engulf you, consume you, with their blaze, and everything shatters, body convulsing almost violently around his cock as you cum with a strained cry of his name.

“Fill me, Mister,” you’re babbling, begging, swearing you’ll die if he doesn’t, the flames will burn you to ash if you don’t get his cum soon, voice absolutely wrecked. “Fill me, fill me,”

And he obeys, filling your cute little cunt to the brim with thick, hot cum as his cock pulses, a cracked whimper of f-fuck, slipping past his lips.

His chest heaves as he collapses against you, the two of you falling back against the table’s surface with a thump, his cock still buried inside of you. A soft whine sounds in the back of your throat as you carefully unlock your legs from around him, wincing a little at the stiffness in your thighs.

I love you.

The three words are murmured into your shoulder, so soft you barely hear them, so quiet you’re sure you’d have imagined them had you not felt his lips move against your flesh, not felt his hot breath on your skin, not felt the gentle vibrations in his chest as he spoke.

“I love you,” you respond, voice tender as tiny fingers comb through his dishevelled hair. “I love you,”

He’s silent for a moment, your combined pants the only sounds ringing out among the hotel room, and then he nods—once at first; just a quick, sharp motion, and then again a moment later, with more vigour, more purpose, more acceptance.

Little hands smooth down the damp cotton hugging his back and your head lolls to the side, cheek pressed against the cool wood of the table. A certain type of giddiness—a type that’s sick, that’s twisted, that’s stuffed full of love—floods your body as your eyes connect with those of a dead man, laying in a pool sticky crimson, and God, yes, you love him, you love him, you love him—more than anyone else ever could, more than you could ever love anything else.  

[reinerispretty]

almost kings. atla fantasy!AU. (mako x f!reader)

hi everyone!! here is my new baby. it’s a oneshot so pls enjoy :)

SUMMARY: (y/n’s) not quite ready to take on the responsibility of ruling an entire kingdom. perhaps two brothers will be her saving grace. 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, but closed it. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She couldn’t just shove the kingdom into the hands of random people. She had to make sure they were worthy somehow.

“You never think things through,” Korra sighed, and (Y/N) scoffed.

“As if you’re any better!” She snatched the paper back from Korra. “I’m going into town to find them regardless. I just have to see.”

Korra pursed her lips, then nodded. “Fine, but I’m coming with you.”

“Absolutely not, you’ll ruin everything.”

“You wound me, Princess. Someone has to make sure these ruffians don’t kidnap you and I'm the only one I trust.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. There would be no arguing with Korra. She was as stubborn as a mule. “Shouldn’t that say something about your ability to train your men?”

“It says nothing about my ability, and everything about the fact that they are men.”

The castle felt the weight of the king’s passing in every crook, cranny, and crevice. The lanterns had lost their luster. The air felt heavier. Every member of the royal palace from top to bottom had become more solemn in the days after. But still, life continued as best as it could. There was a kingdom to run, after all. 

It had been two months since the funeral service and the princess still remained in black, shrouding her face from view with a veil. The mourning process normally lasted a month at most, but to the public, Princess (Y/N) was taking her father’s death the hardest. She was rarely seen outside the castle walls anymore, nor did she explore the palace as she used to. “Poor girl,” they would whisper, over their cups of tea and mugs of beer. “Losing her father and her mother. Wonder if she’ll ever be ready to serve the kingdom.” 

Her mother had died from a plague that had ransacked the city. (Y/N) had only been six. Now, at the age of twenty-one, she had lost her father to a stupid battle in a senseless war. She was all alone. 

Contrary to what the people might think, she did not spend her time locked in her room, sobbing into her pillow. Instead, she read every book that accounted the history of her family lineage. As soon as her mourning period was over, (Y/N) would be expected to take the throne. She would be the queen of her kingdom, ruling from the highest mountaintops in the east to the shining seas in the west, but (Y/N) could think of nothing more she wanted less than the crown. 

It was her duty. She always knew it would be, but part of her had hoped that somewhere along the line her father would birth a male heir and take the responsibility off of her shoulders. (Y/N) did not believe herself fit to lead troops into battle, nor to discuss diplomatic matters with visiting dukes and duchesses. She could barely get through one ball without wanting to chuck her heel at some handsy prince’s head. So, she read. Somewhere along the line, there had to be someone else who could take the position from her. Someone who would be a great fit for king. 

She finally found her answer late one night, as her eyes were so tired that they had difficulty focusing on the page. There, in a depiction of their family tree, to the left of (Y/N’s) king and great lineage, was a chance. Mako and Bolin, the handwritten letters read. Two brothers who were just about her age, from a line that would have indisputable claim to the throne if (Y/N) rejected it. 

She jumped up from her bed, body thrumming with a newfound energy. She threw open her bedroom door, startling the sleeping guards that stood outside of it. With a bright smile on her face, she said, “Have my carriage ready by morning. We’re going into town!” She shut the door before either could question her. 

(Y/N) exchanged her mourning clothes for her regular ones, choosing a cloth periwinkle dress with an ivory cloak on top, clasped with a broach that was the insignia of her family. Handmaidens pulled her hair back into a ponytail as Y/N informed them that she would be skipping breakfast. She was much too eager to get to town. 

“The Captain of the Royal Guard is here to see you, your highness,” announced the guard at the door. (Y/N) batted the handmaidens away from her head, walking over to the door to open it herself. Captain Korra stood before her, wearing leather pants and a white tunic, with her sword sheathed at her side. 

“It's nice to see you smile again,” Korra said as a greeting. “But what’s got you so overjoyed?” she strode into (Y/N’s) room nonchalantly, no doubt bristling some of the more traditional handmaidens. (Y/N) dismissed them quickly. She and Korra had been friends since they were children. She was instrumental in making her father see Korra’s value as a knight. But although it was Korra's dream to go off and fight for the sake of their kingdom, (Y/N) had been selfishly unwilling to let her go. She could not imagine losing korra as well. 

“I have a plan,” (Y/N) said excitedly, gathering some of the things she would need today. She tore out the page from the book that depicted Mako and Bolin’s claim to the throne, shoving it into the very bottom of her satchel for safe keeping. 

“A plan for what?” (Y/N’s) eyes glanced around the room. Quietly, she began to tell Korra her secret.

“I don’t want to rule the kingdom, so I’m finding someone who will.” 

Korra choked on her own spit. “You’re not being serious, are you?” 

“I'm afraid I'm deadly serious.”

“B-but you’re the princess. No one else can rule but you!” 

“That’s where you’re wrong. Where father was wrong, where everyone was! I’ve been doing research, and there are two boys: Mako and Bolin.” She pulled out the piece of paper to show Korra, who scrutinized it heavily. “They’re the only ones who can take my place if I secede the throne. Which I will.” 

“And if they’re dead?” Korra questioned. “Or they’re horrible people who will hoard all the wealth for themselves and leave the innocent peasants with nothing?” 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to argue, but closed it. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. She couldn’t just shove the kingdom into the hands of random people. She had to make sure they were worthy somehow. 

“You never think things through,” Korra sighed, and (Y/N) scoffed. 

“As if you’re any better!” She snatched the paper back from Korra. “I’m going into town to find them regardless. I just have to see.” 

Korra pursed her lips, then nodded. “Fine, but I’m coming with you.” 

“Absolutely not, you’ll ruin everything.” 

“You wound me, Princess. Someone has to make sure these ruffians don’t kidnap you and I'm the only one I trust.” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. There would be no arguing with Korra. She was as stubborn as a mule. “Shouldn’t that say something about your ability to train your men?” 

“It says nothing about my ability, and everything about the fact that they are men.” 

The carriage ride to the town was short, lengthened only by the throngs of people that gathered outside to gape at her presence. They shouted blessings as she passed by, some throwing flowers and others hurling curses. It was another aspect of being royalty that (Y/N) loathed. the attention was too much sometimes, and while she didn’t expect everyone in the kingdom to be fond of her family, she had difficulty not taking their words to heart. 

She ordered the driver to stop inside the town square. He parked their carriage in front of the fountain and people already started to flock towards them out of curiosity. (Y/N) made a move to step out, but Korra grabbed her by the arm and shook her head. Korra stepped out first, looking both beautiful and formidable as she ordered the people to make way for the princess. 

After a few moments, (Y/N) inhaled a deep breath, and stepped out into the bright sun. It was the first time she had been outside the castle walls in over two months. The sunlight seeped into her bones, warMing every part of her being. She squinted her eyes as they adjusted.

“Your majesty!” The people gasped, bowing and curtsying. (Y/N) smiled gratefully at them. 

“It’s so lovely to see all of you,” (Y/N) told them, and she had meant it. There were a few familiar faces among the crowd and she waved at them, calling out their names to show that she remembered. That she cared. 

Korra stood by her side, pulling her through the crowd. “I hope you’ve come up with a cover for why you’re in town. I don’t think the people will be very excited to hear that you’re giving up the crown.” 

“Some might,” (y/n) noted, and Korra narrowed her eyes. “We’ll say that I’m…buying you a new sword.” 

“I don’t need a new sword.” 

“A dagger, then? Everyone loves a dagger.” She grabbed Korra by the hand and pulled her forward. (Y/N) had visited the town many times since she was little. Her mother had loved to read to the children in the town square, a tradition that had unfortunately fallen out of practice after the queen’s demise. (Y/N) had always meant to pick it back up again, but there was something stopping her. 

She led Korra to the blacksmith, reasoning that if there was anyone who knew everyone in town, it would be them. They stepped through the door, a little bell tingling at their arrival, and were instantly hit with a blast of heat. 

The blacksmith stepped through a curtain from the back, lifting their mask and revealing a beautiful girl with soft green eyes and an even softer smile. She looked far too mild to be a blacksmith, but if (Y/N) had learned anything from being friends with Korra, it was that one should never underestimate someone based on their appearance. 

“Your Majesty,” The blacksmith said as she curtsied, removing her heavy gloves. “It’s an honor to have you in my shop. What brings you here?” 

“My Captain of the Royal Guard is looking for a new dagger,” (Y/N) said, glancing up at Korra. The girl’s bright blue eyes were trained on the blacksmith and hadn’t left since they entered the shop. She looked stunned, her face just a shade pinker. “Isn’t that right, Korra?” 

At the sound of her name, Korra snapped back to reality. “Right! Yes. dagger for captain. I’m the captain. Hi, I'm korra.” (Y/N) had to physically stop herself from wincing at her friend’s rambling.

“Nice to meet you,” the blacksmith said. “I’m Asami. What kind of dagger are you in the market for?” 

(Y/N) knew absolutely nothing about weapons, so she looked at Korra, who seemed to be scrambling her brain for words. “Uh, sharp?” Korra offered. 

Asami furrowed her brows and nodded. “Something sharp, then.” 

“Maybe bronze?” (Y/N) questioned. “It will match the rest of your armor wonderfully.” 

“I think I have a bronze dagger in the back, actually,” Asami said, and with another curtsy, she left them. 

(Y/N) smacked Korra’s arm. “What is wrong with you!” she hissed. 

Korra looked from where Asami had just been standing to (Y/N). “Did you see her? She’s the most beautiful human being I’ve ever seen!” 

“You’re acting so suspicious right now.” 

“I am not.” 

“Yes, you are!” Asami entered the room again, and both (Y/N) and Korra paused their argument to smile at her. 

“One bronze dagger,” she said, leaning over the counter to show it to them. It was truly a beautiful work of art, with a tip so sharp it would certainly be deadly. The handle was worked into the intricate design of dragons breathing fire. 

“You made this?” Korra questioned, her voice full of wonder. “It’s beautiful.” Her eyes locked with Asami’s and (Y/N) noticed both girls blush. 

“I did, thank you. My father taught me everything i know.” 

“You’re the best blacksmith I’ve ever met,” (Y/N) agreed. If the circumstances were different, she might invite Asami to become court blacksmith. But she would hate to invite the girl to the castle only to abandon her. “Do you like it, Korra?”

“Yeah, I like her,” Korra said, but her eyes were still trained on Asami. “The dagger,” she tried to recover. 

“We’ll take it.” Asami smiled gratefully, pulling out her record book to record the sale. “I actually have a question for you, Asami, if you don’t mind humoring me.” 

“Anything for you, your highness,” Asami replied brightly. 

“Is there anyone in town by the names Mako or Bolin?” 

Asami thought for a moment as she took the satchel of gold from (Y/N). 

“I think...oh! the baker’s boys. The baker down the street has two apprentices, I think those are their names.” 

(Y/N) grinned wildly, turning to Korra. Bingo. 

As they left the blacksmith, Korra couldn’t stop turning the dagger over and over in her hands. She hadn’t thanked (Y/N) for her purchase, but she didn’t need to. Their friendship went beyond those kinds of formalities. 

“Shall I up your pay so you can come back to town and visit the pretty blacksmith?” (Y/N) smirked. Korra had rarely had a crush throughout their lives. There was another knight she had once admired, but (Y/N) hadn’t been sure if Korra had wanted to kiss him or beat him in a fight. Or both. 

“I certainly wouldn’t complain,” Korra snorted. 

“I think she liked you too.” 

“You’re making fun of me and it’s not nice.” 

“I’m being serious! You were too dumbfounded to notice. It was like,” (Y/N) made explosion noises with her mouth and gestures with her hands. “Instant sparks.” 

Korra remained silent for a few moments as they walked. “Asami is a pretty name, isn’t it?” 

(Y/N) smiled as she pushed through the door to the bakery. “Absolutely.” 

The smell of baked goods sent their mouths watering. Both girls had skipped breakfast, meaning their stomachs were rumbling excessively. They looked at the display cases, where an assortment of all kinds of goodies were laid out before them. 

“Welcome to Bender Bakery!” said a cheerful voice at the counter. It was a boy, but his back was turned to them. “Care for a free sample?” He turned around and smiled, carrying a tray of mini croissants, but it clattered to the floor as soon as he laid eyes on them. “Oh!” he exclaimed, his green eyes wide. “Your majesty! I’m so sorry, I— should I bow? Should I pick these up? Pema’s going to absolutely throttle me.” 

“It’s alright!” (Y/N) felt horrible for surprising the boy. “How about I pay you for those? And for two raspberry tarts?” 

“Four,” Korra said, her voice low and her arms crossed as she eyed the boy. (Y/N) watched him gulp. 

With a sigh, (Y/N) pulled out more coins. “Four raspberry tarts, please?” 

His gaze returned to the princess and he smiled widely, the dazzle reaching his emerald green eyes. Although he was covered in a mess of flour, he was beautiful, with full cheeks and a rounded nose. His stature was broad, and (Y/N) tried to imagine a crown atop his curly black hair. 

“I’m (Y/N),” she said as he swept the mini croissants up. “What is your name?” 

He looked up at her, a faint blush on his cheeks. “I’m Bolin! Nice to meet you, your highness.” (Y/N) smiled widely. She had done it.

“Likewise. This is my Captain of the Royal Guard, Korra.” Korra said nothing, despite (Y/N’s) elbow digging into her side. “Tell me, Bolin, do you have a brother?” 

Bolin’s thick eyebrows drew together curiously. “Yes, yeah I do. Mako. He’s probably out back.” 

“Could you bring him here, please?” Bolin nodded and darted out of the room. 

“What’s your plan?” Korra questioned as soon as he left. “You still have to make sure they’re not going to be insane.” 

“I don’t think they will. I got a good feeling from Bolin.” 

“Feelings don’t make kings.” (Y/N) tsked, rolling her eyes at Korra.

“Must you always be so negative?” 

“I’m not negative, I’m realistic. A trait that you would do well to have.” 

A loud clatter out front startled them, and the two girls turned around to see the two boys darting down the street, knocking over whatever was in their path. 

(Y/N) and Korra had been friends for so long that it seemed like they shared one mind. Both ran out the door, their polished leather boots stomping against the muddied ground. Unlike the boys, they wove through the crowd of people. If anyone recognized that it was the princess running past them, they gave no indication. Stranger things had happened in their little town. 

“I’m going to cut them off!” (Y/N) shouted to Korra. She skidded to a stop. The boys were headed toward an alleyway that (Y/N) knew well. If she let them get to the end, they would disappear into the sewers and she’d lose them forever. 

She set her foot into the bricks that protruded from the building and started to climb. She had spent many years scaling the side of the castle when it all felt like too much. Lifting herself onto the roof of the building, she darted across and jumped down into the alley, her skirts billowing up into the air as she landed on her feet. 

Bolin let out a surprised shout at (Y/N’s) arrival, just as her ankles were reverberating with the shock of the drop. Past the two boys, Korra stood at the end of the alley, her fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of her sword. 

“Why did you run?” (Y/N) demanded, chest heaving from exerting herself. Both boys turned to her now, and (Y/N) laid eyes on the taller one, who must be Mako. Where Bolin was more broad, Mako was slender, his features sharper. His eyes locked on (Y/N’s), his brows furrowing in a mixture of anger and confusion, while (Y/N) felt a gasp escape her lips. His eyes were a brilliant shade of gold, a color that was rare for her people. 

“Well,” Bolin started, trying to catch his own breath. “When you come in with your captain of the royal guard, it kind of feels like you’re here to arrest us.” 

“Why would I arrest you?” 

“(Y/N), they’re criminals,” Korra snapped, and (Y/N) felt her face heat up from embarrassment. 

“You would be too if you lived in a town like this,” Mako said, his glare fixating on Korra. She unsheathed her sword. 

“Wait!” (Y/N) exclaimed. “Wait, what do you mean?” 

“Of course you wouldn’t know. You’re up there in your castle chugging wine and bathing in gold,” Mako snarled.

“Think of the queen bathing often?” Korra pressed, both of her hands on the hilt of her sword now. 

(Y/N) let out an exasperated sigh. This was not how today was supposed to go. she clenched her fists at her side. She was used to things going perfectly, things going her way. She should give up on these two. 

But Mako’s words were sticking to her uncomfortably, like her dresses did after she applied lotion. Were the people in her town really suffering? Why didn’t she know? Why wasn’t anyone telling her? 

“I didn’t come to arrest you,” The last bit of diplomacy had left (Y/N). She did not feel regal. She was tired and impatient. “I came to talk to you.” 

“What would you want with us?” Bolin asked, his figure noticeably relaxing. 

(Y/N) glanced past them, past Korra and into the street. People’s eyes were glancing inside the alley. There was too much attention here. “It’s...a lot to explain. Come back to the palace with us. I’ll tell you everything there.” 

“As your prisoners?” (Y/N) was growing tired of Mako’s attitude. 

“As guests! by the lion turtle, you’d think you two would’ve gotten that through your thick heads by now. I don’t want to have you arrested regardless of the crimes you’ve committed.” 

“She might not, but I do.” 

“Korra!” (Y/N’s) eyes flashed with anger, and her friend deflated, sheathing her sword. (Y/N) inhaled a deep sigh and closed her eyes. “Come back to the palace with me. I’ll explain everything once we’re there.” 

Mako and Bolin looked at each other, weighing their options. 

“Alright,” Bolin agreed, seeming a lot more excited than his brother. “Alright, we’ll go with you.” 

The carriage was far more cramped with the four of them inside. (Y/N) and Korra sat with their shoulders pressed together. Korra held her sword between her knees, her blue eyes flitting between both brothers. While Bolin looked out the window with wonder, Mako sat slumped, his arms crossed and his eyes downcast. 

“Are you hungry?” (Y/N) asked no one in particular. “I can have the kitchens make something. What’s your favorite?” 

“Do you have rabbit soup?” Bolin asked, but he continued before (Y/N) could answer. “I heard you had a labyrinth in your garden, is that true? Do you have horses? Is the crown you wear really heavy?” 

“Yes, yes, yes, and yes, but your neck gets used to it.” She smiled pleasantly. “You should see my father’s crown, though. That thing is a monstrosity.” 

Korra tensed at (Y/N’s) side. It was the first time she had mentioned her father to anyone else after his passing. (Y/N) was sure that Korra expected her to fall apart, but she had spent the past two months piecing herself back together. 

They walked through the front doors of the palace and a servant immediately took (Y/N’s) cloak and Korra’s jacket. They stared awkwardly at the two boys behind them. (Y/N) dismissed them quickly. 

“Would you like to freshen up a bit before we talk?” Bolin opened his mouth to say something, but Mako cut him off.

“we came here to talk.” 

(Y/N’s) smile dropped from her face. “Alright then. Follow me.” 

She led them to her study, which previously belonged to her father. A giant painting of him, her mother, and a young (Y/N) was hung over the roaring fireplace. (Y/N) leaned against the desk as Korra shut the door behind them, leaning herself against the hardwood to prevent any escape attempts. 

“I know it’s not every day the princess drops on you unannounced,” (Y/N) said. Her nerves shaky, she kept moving her fingers. “But after my father’s death, I spent a lot of time researching my family’s lineage.” She pulled the piece of paper from her bag and unfolded it. She double checked to make sure their names were still there, as if they would magically disappear on her. “You both are from a distant royal branch, completely unrelated to my own.” 

She handed the piece of paper to them, and both boys pored over the paper with their brows drawn together. Mako looked up at her. “So what does this mean?” 

“We’re royalty?” Bolin asked. 

“Yes. Next in line to the throne, actually. After myself.” 

“Oh god,” Bolin paled. “Did you bring us here to kill us so we wouldn’t challenge your claim to the throne?” 

“Does everyone in the kingdom think I’m a monster?” She held up a hand to silence Mako before he could respond. “No, I didn’t bring you here to kill you. I brought you to the palace to...give you both the life that is rightfully yours. Somewhere, many generations ago, your connection to the royal family was severed. I want to restore it.” 

“Why would you want that?” Mako asked, and it was the first thing he said that had no trace of anger. 

“I want to help,” (Y/N) admitted. “I came to town because I wanted to help you two, and then you mentioned that if we lived there, we would be criminals as well. If my people are suffering, I want to do everything in my power to fix it.” 

The brothers still looked wary, so she continued. “You could both stay at the palace, if you wanted. Wherever you worked would be compensated for your absence. You can live here and you’ll be treated well. I’ll let you have most anything you want, within reason.” She stared at them both hopefully. “Of course, if you don’t want that, I understand. A carriage will bring you back to town.” 

She locked eyes with Korra. If this went poorly, it could be the downfall of the kingdom. but (Y/N) needed to risk it. 

“Alright,” Mako said. He seemed to be the one that made the decisions. “We’ll stay, for now.” 

(Y/N) grinned, feeling absolutely elated. All that was left to do now was prove that they were worthy of the throne. 

She left Mako and Bolin to their own devices at first. She instructed Korra and any other servants to report back with how they were doing. So far, there was no suspicious activity, much to Korra’s disappointment. 

“I’m just itching for a reason to kick that Mako in the teeth,” Korra told (Y/N) as they walked to her next meeting. (Y/N) couldn’t hold back her laugh. “Seriously! he needs a huge attitude adjustment.” 

“I’m sure they had it rough, Korra, we need to be patient with them.” 

“I don’t know why you’re fighting for them so much. They’re criminals, they said it themselves.” 

“Maybe they had to be.” Korra rolled her eyes. 

“You’ve got your head in the clouds.” 

At the end of the hall, (Y/N) noticed Mako walking toward them. His dirty clothing had been exchanged for a nice red tunic and dark fitted pants. The servants had scrubbed his face clean and combed back his hair, but (Y/N) had heard that Mako ruffled it as soon as they were done styling it. 

“Good morning, Mako,” (Y/N) called out to him. He paused, his expression still serious as he nodded at them. “Would you like to join Korra and I for this meeting?”

“You can’t be serious,” Korra hissed, but (Y/N) paid her no mind. 

“We’re discussing funding today. I’d love to hear your input about where it should go.” She looked at him expectantly, willing him to say yes. She stared directly into his amber eyes. (Y/N) found that people had a hard time saying no to her if she looked at them directly. 

“Oh, uh,” he cleared his throat. “Alright.” 

They entered the meeting room together, (Y/N) taking her place at the elaborate chair at the head of the table. Korra stood at her side, arms behind her back. Mako looked at the seats, anxiously trying to figure out where to go. The men at the table stared at him warily, frowns on their faces. 

“Sit here,” (Y/N) offered, gesturing to the seat to her left. Tenzin, her treasurer, cleared his throat. 

“Your majesty, forgive me for interrupting, but that is Lord Tahno’s seat.” 

(Y/N) smiled and nodded. “Seeing how lord Tahno is late, I would like Mako to take his seat.” Korra tried to stifle her laughter, but failed miserably. She might not like Mako, but she loathed Tahno. (Y/N) guessed that Korra was eager to see the expression on his face when he finally walked in. (Y/N) was eager to see it as well. She and Korra would have a hearty laugh about it later. 

“Now,” (Y/N) continued. “I’m sure you’re all wondering about our guest. Mako is one of my representatives from town, so I invited him here today to discuss how the budget should be allocated to the people.” 

“Your highness,” said Tarrlok, another one of (Y/N’s) advisors. “I can assure you that the people are doing well. Just the other day, I was walking through the town. Children were laughing and playing, it was wonderful.” 

“Just because children are being children doesn’t mean they aren’t suffering,” (Y/N) said. She tried hard not to lose her temper with these people. They were used to certain lives, certain expectations. She didn’t need them to understand, she just needed them to follow her orders. “Take half of the money from my coronation and put it toward the people.” 

Mako raised an eyebrow at her, while the rest of her advisors began talking amongst themselves. “With all due respect, your majesty,” said Raiko. “Your coronation is of the utmost importance.” 

“How much money should it really require?” (Y/N) questioned. “All you have to do is say a few words and put a crown on my head.” 

The door opened then, revealing Tahno and the smug expression on his face. it immediately fell as soon as he saw that his seat was occupied. He recovered as soon as he saw (Y/N). “Your highness,” he drawled, approaching her chair. “My apologies for being late. There was a young injured fox on my way to the castle. I had to stop to assist it.” 

“Liar,” Korra coughed into her palm, pounding against her chest. “Woo, sorry. allergies, y’know?” Even Mako broke a smile. 

“Sit, Tahno.” Frowning, he sat a few chairs down from the princess, glaring at Mako. (Y/N) was grateful to have Tahno so far away. As soon as she had her first meeting, he had claimed the spot right beside her, trying his best to flirt. (Y/N) was in the middle of the appropriate marrying ages and Tahno made it very clear that he had plans to have her hand. 

“Mako,” (Y/N) said, turning to him. “Is there anywhere in town you could think of that needs funding immediately?” 

“Where do I start?” Mako joked, before he remembered exactly where he was. “Uh, the orphanage, your highness. Or the schools. Or maybe putting the money into the roads or some bath houses?” 

(Y/N) nodded as he listed off each of his ideas. She then turned to her advisors. “Did you get all of that?” 

They all scrambled to write down what the young commoner had been saying. “Let’s put the majority of the funding into the orphanages and the schools. We’ll start there, then work our way to everything else.” 

“I don’t see why we should be helping the peasants if they’re no longer providing anything for the castle.” Tahno leaned back into his seat. 

“It’s winter,” Korra deadpanned. 

“Regardless if they contribute anything to the castle or not, taking care of them is still our responsibility,” (Y/N) told him. 

“I’m just saying—“ 

“Keep thinking like that and you’ll have a revolt on your hands,” Mako interrupted Tahno. “The people know how you all live here. They don’t expect their own fancy castles, but they notice when they’re starving and you’re all throwing feasts.” 

“Tell me,” Tahno said, narrowing his eyes. “What’s your title? Why are you here?” 

“All things you’d know if you arrived to the meeting on time,” (Y/N) snapped. “The orphanages and the schools,” (Y/N) repeated to Tenzin. He nodded at her orders. “I think that’s enough for today. You may all leave.” She didn’t like this, didn’t like the arguments and how people tried to challenge her. She might see their point of view if she was some sort of tyrant that needed to be held back. But all she wanted to do was help people, and sometimes she felt like the best thing she could do for the kingdom was to not be queen. 

As everyone else filtered out of the room, (Y/N)) stood and went to the window. In the cloudy horizon sat their little town, the one that her family had been entrusted to care for. 

“Your majesty, may I have a word with you?” (Y/N) sighed and turned around. Tahno stood just a few feet away from her, blocked by Korra. Mako had remained in his seat. “In private?” 

“I’m actually feeling unwell today,” (Y/N) said softly. “You can request an audience another time. Korra, please escort Lord Tahno out.” 

“Gladly,” Korra said with a smile. Tahno stared at the princess for a few more moments before turning around, Korra following him. 

(Y/N) collapsed back in her seat, slumping down. She glanced over at Mako. “Thank you for coming today. And what you said. Sometimes it feels like they don’t believe anything I say unless it’s coming from a man’s mouth.” 

“It seemed to me like they didn’t want to believe anything I said unless it was coming from a lord’s.” (Y/N) smiled. 

“They’re not so bad. Just a little...traditional.” 

“And you aren’t?” (Y/N) shook her head. 

“There's so much I would change about everything.” 

“Like what?” (Y/N) was surprised at Mako’s sudden interest. His hands were slotted together and folded against his stomach as he leaned back. 

“Well, I don't think the coronation should be that big of a deal. It seems like a party for the rich people, and they have parties all the time. So I'd make it something smaller. Private, maybe. And I’d invite the whole town into the palace for feasts on holidays, so that everyone could get a hot meal. Maybe if people wanted, they could come to the castle if they ever needed a meal. Tahno would say that they’d eat me out of house and home, but I don’t think I’d mind, as long as people were happy.” 

“Tahno seems like a jerk.” 

“He is, but I can't say that or else his family would wage war on mine.” (Y/N) blew hair out of her face. “Everyone expects me to marry him.” 

“Well i don’t see why you wouldn’t want to,” Mako said sarcastically. (Y/N) grinned. 

“I’d also put an end to this horrid war.” 

“You want to end the war?” Mako raised an eyebrow. It stung a little bit, thinking that he would be surprised at her statement. 

“It’s not my war anymore,” She said quietly, glancing at the portrait of her father that said over the fireplace. He looked grand, a ring of shining light painted around his head. “It wasn’t even his. It was started a long time ago by men whose problems are nowhere near mine.” She turned to Mako, the corner of her mouth twitching up sadly. “At this point, I don’t think anyone knows what they’re fighting for anymore. All it does is hurt people.” 

They both knew what she was referring to. Just a few months ago, her father had been wounded on the battlefield for that very war. His death had been slow and painful, and as his only child, (Y/N) had to sit and watch. 

“I think those are great ideas, by the way.” Mako’s voice broke the silence and the sadness that had started to overcome (Y/N).

“Thank you. If only I had the time to implement them.” 

“Don’t you have a whole lifetime as queen?” 

(Y/N) opened her mouth to speak, but clasped it tightly shut. She couldn’t tell him about her plan. Not yet. 

“There’s just a lot of hoops to jump through.” She stood and glanced at the door. “Walk with me to lunch?” 

It wasn’t often that (Y/N) was summoned places. As princess, she did the majority of the summoning. But Tenzin had called her to the great hall for some undisclosed reason and (Y/N) was horribly curious, so she humored him. 

He bowed as she entered the room. “Your majesty. Thank you for making yourself available on such short notice.” 

The door opened behind her once more, revealing a very confused looking Mako and Bolin. Tenzin cleared his throat. “Considering that her royal highness brought you both here, I have taken it upon myself to properly train you as members of the royal court.” 

(Y/N) gasped excitedly, whirling around on the two boys, the large skirt of her dress flowing behind her. Bolin looked at her. “What does that mean?” 

“it means,” (Y/N) said, clasping her hands together. “That you’re getting royalty lessons.” 

“I'm good,” Mako said, moving to walk back out of the room. Tenzin raised his eyebrows at (Y/N), who gave him a confused look in return before she realized what he was trying to convey. 

“Oh! Right. I’m in charge here. Mako, you cannot leave. If you two are to remain in the palace, you have to have some sort of formal training. There are certain expectations that other members of the Court will have. People have started wars over minor offenses. It’s all stupid, but necessary.” Tenzin gasped. 

“The customs of our people are far from stupid!”

Mako looked horribly displeased, but the glimmer in Bolin’s eyes told her that at least he was excited. (Y/N) turned to Tenzin, a grin on her face. “Of course. Take good care of them, Tenzin.” 

“Actually, your majesty, I was thinking that you could also partake in these lessons. A little refresher is never a bad thing. I’ve noticed your elbows have begun making their way onto the table.” 

(Y/N) frowned deeply as bolin and mako snickered behind her. “I think my elbows should do whatever they damn well please.” 

Tenzin sputtered. “Language, your majesty!” And while she was the princess and could certainly refuse, the hopeful and pleading look on Tenzin’s face made her concede. He had been her father’s best friend. With a sigh, she nodded. 

That was how the three of them had ended up with stacks of books on their heads. It had taken (Y/N) a few tries to get the hang of it once more and just as she was feeling confident, Tenzin would add another book. Mako and Bolin, however, were struggling greatly. 

“I think my hair is making the book fall,” Bolin told Tenzin, who rolled his eyes. 

“The purpose is to glide, not walk, across the floor.” 

“What the hell is gliding?” Mako questioned. 

“And watch your tongue!” tenzin insisted. Mako huffed, and (Y/N) giggled as she glided over to him. 

“Just humor him,” she whispered as she walked around Mako. She pulled his shoulders back to straighten them, and with a single finger lifted his chin so that he had to peer down his nose at her. “Try it now.” 

Mako took a few wary steps forward, but the book didn’t fall, not until he turned back around to smile at (Y/N). It slid off his head, knocking into hers before tumbling to the floor. 

“Ow,” (Y/N) grumbled, rubbing her hand against her forehead. Mako stared at her with wide eyes. 

“I'm sorry,” he apologized, but his shocked expression soon faded as he saw the smile playing at her lips. He had to admit, it was rather funny. 

“Uh, (Y/N)?” bolin asked, and then received a swat on the head from Tenzin. 

“You will refer to her as your majesty, your grace, or your highness!” 

“Your grace (Y/N)?” bolin tried to correct, avoiding another swipe from Tenzin. “How’d you get Mako to do that book thing?” 

“Oh! It’s easy, let me help,” and she walked over to Bolin, moving him the same way she had moved Mako just moments before. Bolin took his own steps forward, looking similarly to a baby lamb walking on its legs for the first time. 

“I’m doing it!” He cheered as he walked around the room. “I'm royalty!” 

After their walking lessons was a pretend lunch in which they learned what utensils to use when. (Y/N) was rather disappointed at the lack of food before them. She found herself growing hungry. 

“Now, say you had a soup dish before you. What utensil would you use, your highness?” 

(Y/N) looked down at the array of forks, spoons, and knives, all in a range of different sizes. She pursed her lips as she thought. “Do I go from the outside in?” She wondered aloud, searching Mako and Bolin’s faces for answers. They both gave her a shrug: they were just as lost. “Or do i go from the inside out? You know, tenzin, I’m curious why it matters at all what utensil we use when. As long as the food gets in our mouths, I don’t see an issue.” 

Tenzin sniffed. “I see you’ve been spending time with Korra.” 

“Really, I think different types of utensils should be banned. All we need are forks, knives, and spoons. Perhaps I'll propose it at our next meeting.” 

“I second that,” Mako said as he stared at a big fork and a small fork. 

“Can i vote, too?” Bolin questioned. “Because while I think it’s a great idea, (Y/N) your highness, I think we should keep this little baby fork. It’s quite adorable.” 

(Y/N) hummed, banging the handle of her knife on the table as if it were a gavel. “It’s settled. No different types of utensils, unless it’s a baby fork.” 

Bolin cheered as Tenzin groaned. 

“For your last lesson,” Tenzin began as they left the dining room. “We shall work on dancing.” 

“That’s my cue to leave,” (Y/N) said quickly, gathering the skirts of her dress and darting away. Mako and Bolin exchanged a quick look before darting after her, leaving Tenzin all by himself. 

“I expect to see you all at the same time tomorrow!” 

(Y/N) was surprised as she was walking the grounds to find Bolin wrestling with members of the knighthood. She left her handmaidens and ran over to them immediately, thinking the worst. Maybe one of them had made a comment about Bolin’s upbringing. Maybe Bolin had offended the knight in some way. 

“What is the meaning of this?” (Y/N) demanded, her voice projecting over the cheers of the knights. they died out, falling to one knee and bowing their heads. The two remained wriggling on the ground. “Bolin!” (Y/N) shouted to gain his attention. 

The fighting halted, and her knight, Sir Tonraq, looked up at her and smiled. He was Korra's father and one of their kingdom’s greatest generals. He rose slowly to his feet and bowed at the waist. “Your majesty,” he said calmly. “Bolin asked that I show him a few moves. It was all in good fun, I can assure you.” 

(Y/N) glanced down at Bolin, who was panting but otherwise looked unharmed. He remained on the ground, his face upside down as he grinned up at (Y/N). “Afternoon, princess! lovely day, isn’t it?” 

“You asked Sir Tonraq to wrestle you?” 

“Well uh,” Bolin rose to his feet. “Not in so many words, but I guess. He and the others were training and it looked really cool! Do you think I could get a sword?” He looked between (Y/N) and Tonraq.

“Why don’t you walk with me for a bit, Bolin?” He nodded and joined her, leaving Tonraq and the rest to return to their training. “I'll be frank: is being a knight something that interests you?” 

Bolin nodded eagerly. “Oh yeah, it always has! Ever since I was little, I wanted to be a knight. pops used to tell us his grandfather was a knight and I thought it was the coolest thing ever, but then Mako said that it was all just a story pops made up to get us to go to sleep. But hey, now I’m starting to think Mako was wrong!” He flashed another smile at (Y/N). 

“If you’re a knight, you can’t be a king,” (Y/N) said, her voice very solemn. Bolin raised an eyebrow. 

“Well you’re queen, so—“

“I'm not the queen,” (Y/N) interrupted. “Not until my coronation.” 

“Either way, it’s still you and mako before I can even think about becoming a king. I think I'd make a great knight, though! saving damsels, slaying dragons.” 

(Y/N) giggled. “Dragons have been extinct for years.” 

“Someone never heard the fairytale of the dragon prince!” 

“You'll have to tell me sometime.” They walked past the lakes, where turtle ducks swam and splashed in the water. “If you really want to be a knight, Bolin, we can arrange it. It’s a lot of intense training, but if you think you’re ready—“ 

“I know i’m ready!” 

“Alright,” (Y/N) laughed. “I’ll call for the town blacksmith and you guys can meet and discuss what you want your sword to look like.” 

“Doesn’t the castle have a blacksmith?” 

(Y/N) smirked. “We do, but I've got a plan, dear Bolin.” 

Korra was going to kill her. 

The clanging of metal on metal alerted the two of them to some other sort of commotion. (Y/N) and Bolin walked to the source of the noise, located at the armory. At first, (Y/N) could not discern who was inside, but she soon heard Korra’s familiar grunts and shouts. 

They walked through the armory, passing different swords, daggers, shields, and pieces of armor as they made their way back to the practice area. There, on the sandy ground, stood Korra and Mako. 

(Y/N) hadn’t expected Mako to be a very good swordsman. He had grown up as an orphan, after all, so she looked up at Bolin with one eyebrow raised. The brother smiled brightly as he watched the two fight. “Mako once stole a sword from some rich kid in town. He got pretty good at fighting until the sword got stolen from him.” 

“Hopefully he doesn’t best my Captain of the Royal Guard,” (Y/N) said in a loud voice as she walked over to the railing. “Or else I might need to start holding interviews!” 

“Shut up!” Korra shouted back at her. The distraction gave Mako just enough time to swipe Korra’s feet out from beneath her. Korra was quick, however, and rolled out of the way before he could hold the point of his sword to her chest. She jumped back up to her feet and attacked with such ferocity that it intimidated even (Y/N). 

Korra, like (Y/N), had spent much of her life being underestimated by the men of their kingdom. Where (Y/N) would rather use that to her advantage, it bothered Korra to no end. She spent years training harder than any other knight in their Royal Guard, any other knight in their entire army, until she could best them all. If (Y/N) was Mako, she would be terrified. 

Their swords collided in air, and Korra circled her weapon, wrenching Mako’s from his hand. She caught it by the blade in her other hand, an exhausted smile coming to her face before she thrust the handle of her sword at him. “You’re not horrible.” 

“You’re amazing!” Bolin exclaimed, eyes wide as he stared at Korra. “You were good too, Mako, just not as good as her.” “Gee, thanks, Bo,” Mako said as he wiped sweat from his brow. 

Korra narrowed her eyes at (Y/N). “You were trying to distract me for him.” 

“You’re so dramatic,” (Y/N) said as she rolled her eyes. Korra smiled, her eyes moving between Mako to (Y/N). 

“Bet he couldn’t take you,” Korra said. She always liked to initiate challenges. 

Mako raised an eyebrow at the princess. “You can swordfight?” 

(Y/N) scoffed. “Who do you think was Korra’s practice dummy?” 

“I thought princesses weren’t supposed to learn how to fight,” Bolin wondered aloud. “Wouldn’t Tenzin say it’s unbecoming?” 

(Y/N) nodded. “He certainly would, and he did. Many times.” 

Korra waved a hand. “That old coot wouldn’t know what fun was if it smacked him in the ass.” She offered her sword to (Y/N). “Go on. Fight him.” 

A grin settled on (Y/N’s) lips, her expectant eyes landing as Mako. She hopped over the railing. The skirt of her dress was large, making it a bit difficult, but she had been doing it for years. “What do you say?” 

Mako furrowed his brows. “I don’t want to fight you.” 

“Come on, Mako, I’m in a dress. It should be easy for you to beat me.” (Y/N) tossed the blade between both hands. Mako looked from the princess to Korra and Bolin. Bolin seemed nervous, but Korra leaned against the wooden post of the building with a smile. 

“We shouldn’t,” Mako said, shaking his head. 

(Y/N) lifted her chin and smirked, pointing her blade at Mako. “I order you to.” 

His eyebrow quirked up as his face flushed, the corner of his mouth tilting up just slightly. “As you wish, your majesty,” And (Y/N) felt a shudder travel down her back. 

(Y/N) swung first, knowing that Mako would be too scared to initiate the first move. He blocked, spinning around in an attempt to disarm her. (Y/N) noticed that all of the movements he was making were attempts to knock the sword from her friends, but she held onto it. Her dress made moving quickly difficult, but she could tell that he was restraining himself. 

“If you keep holding back,” (Y/N) said as their swords collided. “I’ll make you spend a night in the cellars.” 

Mako let out a laugh, but his fighting style started to completely change. He was quick and pressing, trying his best to push her into a corner. Their swords hit midair once more and Mako shoved forward. 

(Y/N) lost her balance and fell, landing on her side as she cried out. Mako dropped his sword and ran to her side, kneeling down to his knees as his brows knit together in worry. “Are you alright?” He questioned, searching to see what was hurting her. 

In an instant, (Y/N) lunged and tackled Mako onto his back. She hovered over to him for a split second, their faces only inches away as she smiled down at him. She scrambled back up to her feet, setting one foot on his chest as the tip of her sword pointed at his neck. 

“That’s my girl!” Korra cheered from the sidelines. 

Mako stared up at her, eyes still wide with surprise. Her hair had fallen from its bun, wisps of sweaty locks sticking to her temples and neck. Her chest heaved as they caught her breath, and her eyes sparkled with a wild twinkle that Mako hadn’t seen before. 

“You fight dirty,” Mako said. 

(Y/N) shrugged. “Have to do what you must to win.” She stepped off of his chest and let her sword trail down his stomach before tossing it to the ground. She linked arms with Korra and walked out of the armory, muttering something about desperately needing a bath. 

Mako remained on the ground as he caught his breath. Bolin hopped over to the railing and joined his brother, his eyes widening as he noticed the state he was in. Bolin directed his green eyes elsewhere. “Um, Mako? Do you have a--” 

“Shut up, Bolin.” 

“You—!” Korra said as she burst into the dining room. (Y/N) had a mouthful of bread stuffed in her cheeks. “You wicked woman!” 

Mako and Bolin glanced from Korra to (Y/N). They weren’t sure if Korra’s anger was genuine. On a normal day, if anyone spoke to (Y/N) that way, Korra would have them thrown out. Was there anyone that could throw Korra out?

(Y/N) swallowed and smiled, buttering another piece of bread. “I’m not sure what you mean.” 

Korra crossed her arms and poured her lips, tapping her foot against the marble floor. “You invited the blacksmith here on purpose!” 

“Yes, that purpose was so that she could make Bolin a sword.”

“And that has nothing to do with how I made a fool of myself the last time we saw her?” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “Then you should be thrilled that I invited her so you could make a good second impression.” 

“Am I missing something here?” Bolin asked. 

“No!” Korra snapped, just as (Y/N) whirled on him with a devious grin. 

“Korra’s got a crush on the town blacksmith.” 

“I hate you,” Korra seethed. (Y/N) paid her no mind. If she had a gold piece for every time Korra told her that, she’d be the richest person in the entire world. 

“She’s supposed to be arriving soon. Should we call her into the dining room?” 

“No!” Korra and Mako spoke at the same time. (Y/N) had been expecting that reaction from Korra, but from Mako? 

her playful demeanor dissipated as she saw the troubled expression on mako’s face. “Very well,” she said quietly. “When she arrives, you’ll meet her in the smithy.” Bolin nodded. 

Korra had left to take out her anger on some unsuspecting recruit. The rest of the meal was consumed in silence. 

An uncomfortable feeling settled in (Y/N’s) stomach, like she had done something wrong. She had expected korra to react that way. When it came to her, Korra was all bark and no bite. She would get over it in a few hours, and would undoubtedly be excited at seeing Asami. But the look that had appeared on Mako’s face had startled her. It was like she had hurt him in a way, and she didn’t know how. 

(Y/N) retired to her bedroom, dismissing her handmaidens. She wanted to be completely alone. 

Her room was large, but it was not the biggest bedroom in the castle. That was her father’s, which had remained untouched since he passed away. After her coronation, (Y/N) would be expected to move into it. And she wasn’t sure that she could handle being in a room that reminded her of her father so fully. 

But (Y/N) liked her room. It had grand windows, with a stained glass one at the very center, depicting a colorful image of the two founders of her family line. As the sun shined through, it cast colors all throughout the room. Her bed was large and soft, with four posts and a lovely canopy surrounding it. Books were now scattered across the floor from her research and she had many wardrobes all along the wall, filled to the brim with dresses and gowns. They ranged from poofy and elegant to plain and simple. 

She flopped onto her bed, staring up at the high ceilings. What would happen to her once she was no longer royalty? Perhaps she would take her savings and buy a cottage on the side of a hill. She knew very little about fending for herself, but she would learn. She could buy animals. Or maybe she would settle in a cottage by the sea and fish for herself. She had read a book once that detailed how to make sea salt from the ocean. 

(Y/N) closed her eyes, envisioning the peace that would overcome her once the crown was off of her head.

 She wasn’t sure how long she had slept, but when she awoke her stomach was growling, indicating that she had missed dinner. She sat up, her body feeling stiff from sleeping in her corset. She moved her arms around her back, her fingers trying to pull at the ties that bound her. It was no use without a handmaiden. 

A knock sounded at her door and (Y/N) jumped up, feeling a little dizzy from having just awoken. She went to the door and pulled it open, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

Where she had expected to see a handmaiden, She was surprised to see Mako standing in front of her. “Oh,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Do you need something?”

“You weren’t at dinner,” he explained. “Did I upset you?” (Y/N) liked how straightforward Mako was. He saw things simply. 

“Not at all! I just fell asleep.” She craned her neck to the side to stretch it. 

“Oh. Well, alright.” He seemed to be deciding whether he should leave or say something more. 

“I'm sorry for inviting the blacksmith girl unannounced. If I had realized you had a past with her—“ 

“Who said I had a past with her?” 

(Y/N) snorted. “Well, it was pretty obvious, considering you almost pissed your pants at the idea of seeing her.” 

Mako rolled his eyes. “You can invite whoever you want to invite, you’re the queen.” 

“I’m not,” (Y/N) insisted. “Not until my coronation.” 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, why do you keep putting that off? You’d think that anyone would jump at the opportunity to rule a kingdom.” 

(Y/N) pressed her lips into a line. “I like to take my time.” 

“Seems to me that you enjoy rash decisions.” 

“And you know me so well?” 

Mako shrugged. “I’ve been here almost a month. I like to think that I know a little about you. Jury's still out on the golden baths, though.” 

(Y/N) scrunched her nose. “I don’t care for chugging wine, either.” 

Mako laughed, and (Y/N) realized it was the first time she had actually heard the sound. It was pleasant. Warm. 

“I was with the blacksmith, for a period of time. It didn’t end very well.” 

“for you or for her?” 

“for either of us.” (y/n) nodded, leaning against the door frame.

“Korra’s smitten with her.” 

“Who wouldn’t be? She’s beautiful.” His eyes glistened with a flash of realization that she couldn’t understand, and then he shut his mouth. 

“If Asami wasn’t good for Korra, you’d tell me, wouldn’t you?” 

mako nodded, his face very serious. “Of course.” 

“She’s my best friend,” (Y/N) said quietly, studying mako’s face. “She’s all I have.” 

“That can’t be true.�� 

“It is.” (Y/N) gritted her teeth. The thought of someone hurting Korra made a rage bubble in her belly. “I’ve lost both of my parents. Korra is the only thing keeping me here.” 

“The only thing?” 

(Y/N) felt her face grow hot. she looked down at her feet. “I’m tired of standing. Do you want to come inside?” 

“Inside...your room?” 

“Yes, my room.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and stepped aside so Mako could enter. He looked around at her space as she moved to her wardrobe and pulled out a comfier dress. 

“This entire room is bigger than the house I grew up in.” 

“I’m sorry for that.” (Y/N) moved behind her screen, trying to tug once more at her ties now that she was more awake. 

“It’s not your fault. It was still a nice home.” (Y/N) let out an exasperated sigh. Her arms couldn’t contort in the way she needed them to. “Everything alright back there?” 

(Y/N) poked her head from behind the screen. Mako sat at the edge of her bed. “I need a small favor.” 

“I suppose I can’t refuse the princess.” 

(Y/N) walked over to him and turned around, pulling her hair to the front. “Could you untie these for me? I'd do it by myself, but I can't reach.” 

“Where are your handmaidens?” 

“Obviously not present at the moment so please, mako, if you don’t mind.” 

He stood, and with nimble fingers he untied the silk ribbon of her corset. (Y/N) breathed in deeply and exhaled. she could finally breathe properly. She held the corset to her chest with her arms and turned around. “Thank you,” she told him, before she moved back behind her screen to get changed. “One more thing I'd do as queen is banish uncomfortable dresses.”

Mako chuckled. “The people would throw a festival in your honor.” 

She moved out from the screen once more, this time wearing only her nightgown and a silk robe to cover it. She had pulled the pins from her hair, allowing it to move freely. “Tell me about your parents,” She said. It was rare she got a moment alone with Mako. She wanted to learn as much about him as she could. 

“There’s not much to tell. They were killed by a mugger when we were out walking one night.” 

“‘We?’” (Y/N) repeated. “You were with them?” Mako nodded. “Oh, Mako, i’m so sorry.” 

“It was a long time ago,” Mako said as he swallowed. “But it’s why Bolin and I had to learn to steal. it was the only way we could survive.” 

“The orphanage—“ 

“We went, for a while. A couple wanted to adopt Bolin. I couldn’t let them separate us, so we ran.” Mako shook his head. “You probably think me selfish, for keeping my brother from a chance at a better life.” 

(Y/N) sat beside him on her bed. “When Korra was eighteen, she became a knight. I was happy when she did, it was all that she wanted her entire life. But then I thought about how knights go to war and sometimes they don’t return. So I asked my father to do something to keep Korra here. He assigned her to the royal guard. I know it’s not her dream, but it’s all I could do to keep her safe.” she looked at mako. “What I’m trying to say is, no, I don’t think you’re selfish. I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“If korra’s the only thing keeping you here, why do you want to leave so badly?” 

(Y/N) stiffened, furrowing her brows. “What are you talking about?” 

“It’s plain to see. Refusing your coronation, not even batting an eye at marriage proposals. bringing bolin and I here. I knew you wanted to leave as soon as you brought us here, but I couldn't figure out why.” 

(Y/N) swallowed. “I’m not fit to rule a kingdom.” 

Mako scoffed. “I’d beg to differ. you boss everyone around better than anyone i’ve ever met.” He was trying to joke, but (Y/N) was not in the mood. 

“I don't like meetings or the people I have to spend my time around. You saw it for yourself, some of them are insufferable. I can’t lead an army into battle, but I can’t sit back and watch innocent people die for my sake. I just...my parents were such good people. My mother knew how to ease everyone’s worries. My father knew when to be strong for others. I don't have either of those qualities. I've had Korra to protect me my whole life. The kingdom would be better off if someone else ruled it.” 

She turned to mako. “Which is why I found you and Bolin and brought you back to the palace. I had to make sure you both would be good kings, and you are. I can’t think of anyone more reasonable, or kind and just, or strong as the two of you. I want you to take my throne, Mako. You would be such a great king. You’re in touch with the people.” 

She swallowed, nervous from his silence. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But I truly do believe you’d be wonderful.” 

“And if I say no?” 

(Y/N) furrowed her brows, shocked. “I'll ask bolin.” 

“And if he says no? Will you stay?” (Y/N) was at a loss for words. “Because I know that if I say yes, you will leave. So why would I when it’s the only way you’ll stay?” 

She stared at mako. His golden eyes bore down into hers. She tried to read his expression, but there were too many thoughts bouncing around in her head. “I can't, Mako. Losing both of my parents nearly destroyed me. If something else happened…” She closed her eyes tight. “I know I wouldn’t be a good ruler.” 

“You do not know yourself.” Mako squeezed her hand. 

(Y/N) sniffled. “We could talk circles around each other all night. We won’t change the other’s mind.” 

“I—“ Mako huffed, closing his eyes. “I want to be selfish with you, (Y/N).” He released her hand and stood, walking out of her room without looking back. 

(Y/N) crawled beneath her covers. her stomach rumbled in protest, but she felt too sick to even think about eating. She closed her eyes and fought for sleep. 

When (Y/N) opened her eyes, she was only a little alarmed to see someone sleeping beside her. As her mind came back to life, she recalled Korra coming to check on her. She must have seen the worry etched onto (Y/N’s) face because she had taken off her boots and crawled into (Y/N’s) bed like they used to when they were little. 

(Y/N) turned over and stared at Korra, silently willing her to wake up. Her stomach rose and fell as she breathed easily, but (Y/N) caught the quick upturn of her lips. She moved closer to her friend. 

“You’re so weird for staring at people when they sleep,” Korra said quietly, her voice gravelly from sleep. 

“You’re grumpy in the morning,” (Y/N) replied back. She laid down on her pillow. “Mako visited me last night.” 

“I know. I saw him leaving your room. Part of me thought that maybe you guys had—“ 

“We didn’t, but if you’d like the conversation to go in that direction I’d love to hear how you spent your time with Asami.” 

“I didn’t spend any time with her.” (Y/N) groaned. 

“So now I have to invite her back to the palace just so you can make a move. You’re despicable. Next time I need to be there to make sure you actually do something.” 

Korra chuckled, then opened her eyes and turned over to face (y/n). Her expression was softer. “What happened with Mako?” 

“I told him that I wanted him to be king. and he said no, because it would mean that I left.” 

“Swoon,” Korra sighed. 

“Not swoon. What am I supposed to do now?” 

“You could stay.” Korra's blue eyes locked on hers. “I don’t understand why you’re so eager to leave. You have a good life here, (Y/N).” 

“I know that, but it doesn’t feel like my life. I feel like an imposter whenever I do anything even remotely royal. I was never supposed to be—“ 

“Enough about you not meant to be the heir. Yes, your mother was pregnant when she passed away, but that doesn’t mean she would have had a boy.” 

“The doctors said—“ 

“The doctors are wrong about things all the time. They said you’d be taller than me, and look where we are now.” (Y/N’s) face formed a pout. “You are meant to be the heir, because you’re here.” 

(Y/N) shoved her face into her pillow and screamed. Korra patted her on the back. “Look. If what you really want is to run away and never be heard from again, then I’ll support you. I don’t like it, but I’ll support you.” 

(Y/N) felt a stinging pain in her chest. Korra was a much better person than she was. Braver, stronger, selfless. (Y/N) turned her head to look at her once more. 

“I asked my father to keep you here,” (Y/N) said. “I couldn’t bear the thought of you going out into battle. A monarch shouldn’t behave so selfishly.” 

“(Y/N),” Korra sighed, wrapping her arms around her friend and pulling her into her chest. “I asked your father to keep me here, with you. You’d end up falling down the stairs if it weren’t for me.” 

(Y/N) gave Korra a light punch in the stomach, but smiled and hugged her friend back. “I don’t want to do royal things today.” 

“You don’t have to. Tis the blessing of being the one in charge, hm?” 

“But I have meetings.” 

“Hm, yes.” 

“And Tenzin wanted to talk about my birthday celebration.” 

“Oof, that’ll be a fun conversation.” 

“But maybe if I had a really fantastic friend who knew me very well and would be able to make decisions based on what I would want, then I’d be able to stay in my room all day…” 

“It’s a shame you don’t have one of those.” Korra laughed. “Alright, I’ll be queen for a day. But first I need to make sure you eat. Your stomach was so loud last night, I wanted to kick you.” 

So the princess sat in her bed, munching on fruit. She wasn’t sure what she would do on her day off, so she sat in contemplative thought. She could read, but she always read. Would Korra be upset with her for going outside? She wondered what excuse Korra might have made on her behalf. 

(Y/N) stood and decided to at least get dressed for the day. She chose a simple white tunic and trousers, securing the middle of her shirt with a belt. She slipped on her boots and took a look at herself in the mirror. Sometimes it was nice to not look like a princess. 

A knock at her door made her jump. She opened it, surprised to find bolin standing before her. “Korra said you weren’t feeling well,” Bolin said. his face glistened with sweat. “So I asked Tonraq if I could check on you for a few minutes.” 

(Y/N) smiled. “That’s very kind of you, Bolin, but I’m quite alright. I just needed a day off. Being a princess isn’t all sunshine and rainbows.” 

“What’re you gonna do?” (Y/N) shrugged. 

“I haven’t figured it out yet. What has everyone else been up to?”

“Well, Korra and Mako have been going to all of your meetings.” 

“Mako? Why would he—?”

“He didn’t tell you? Mako decided that he’ll take your throne if you plan on giving it up. Huge weight off my shoulders, honestly. I don't think I'd be a very good king.” 

(Y/N) felt as if the breath had been knocked out of her. What had changed his mind? 

She and Bolin parted ways and (Y/N) sneaked through the castle, hoping to not be seen by any of her advisors or servants. Mako’s advisors and servants. Her brain was muddled. Bolin's news came as a shock to her, considering how Mako had behaved the night before. She tried to press it to the back of her mind. 

Suddenly, an idea popped into her head. She ran into the nearest room, a storage room with dusty boxes, but with a window big enough for her to fit through. She threw it open, inhaling the cool afternoon air. She lifted herself over the ledge and secured her foot to a protruding brick. Slowly, she shimmied down the side of the castle. 

“What are you doing!” a voice shouted, startling (Y/N) so much that she nearly lost her hold on the side of the building. She looked down, glaring at the perpetrator. Mako. He stared up at her, his face etched in worry and concern.

“Are you trying to make me fall?” She called down to him, taking another step. 

“Are you trying to kill yourself?” 

“Just shut up, will you? You’re gonna draw attention to me!” 

“As if scaling down the side of the castle isn’t doing that already.” 

(Y/N) continued climbing down until she was just a few feet off the ground. She landed on her feet, perfectly unharmed. “See?” She gestured to Mako, spreading her arms wide and rotating. “I’m fine.” 

Mako crossed his arms. “Korra said you weren’t feeling well. Something about you throwing up everywhere.” 

(Y/N) should have known better than to trust Korra with creating an excuse. She crossed her own arms. “I needed a day off. Shouldn’t you be in a meeting or something? Bolin said you’d been going to them all morning.” 

“You spoke with bolin?” 

“Why did you change your mind?” she questioned, her eyes narrowing. “You seemed very adamant about not taking the position last night.” 

Mako pressed his lips into a thin line. “I guess you could say I had a change of heart.” 

“Well.” (Y/N) swallowed, casting her eyes to the ground. “Thank you, really. The kingdom will be better off.” 

Mako said nothing for a moment before changing the subject. “Tenzin wanted us to tell you that your birthday celebration will be at the end of the week.” (Y/N) groaned. “What, you hate your birthday now too?” 

“I don’t hate my birthday. They just make a whole ordeal of it. Fancy dresses and customary dances and absolute asses begging for my hand in marriage while also insulting me. It’s a mess.” 

“Sounds like a fun time to me,” Mako said with a smile. (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“It’ll be easy for you. You’ll have women falling in front of your feet to get a chance with you.” 

Mako raised an eyebrow. “And why’s that?” 

(Y/N’s) face flushed hot. “It’s the title,” she said quickly. “The title is what they’re all after, normally.” She looked up at the cloudy sky. “Well, I must be off to do my day off things.” 

“Care for some company?”

“But your meetings?” Mako shrugged. 

“Korra can handle it.” (Y/N) broke out into a grin. 

“She’s going to hate us.” 

(Y/N) wasn’t sure what she wanted to do, so she had to think on her feet. She’d like to go into town, but was far too tired for the social energy that required. So, she decided to take Mako to the ruins. 

The ruins were a forgotten part of their kingdom, ignored by all except (Y/N). She had discovered them once on one of her long walks along the castle grounds. They were the remnants of a great castle, probably even greater than the one she lived in, just a few miles away. She had scoured every book in their library, hoping to have some clue to who the ruins had once belonged, but had no luck. 

“I’ve only told Korra about this place, but she doesn’t like coming here. Says if she wanted to be surrounded by old dusty things, she’d spend time with Tenzin.” Mako let out a laugh at that. 

She led him up the entrance steps and through the threshold. They stood in the foyer, light pouring in through the absent ceiling. Before them stood a great staircase, leading up into each level of the castle that had once been there. “I think it’s beautiful,” (Y/N) continued. “It's like a whole world people forgot about. I used to make up stories about what happened here when I was little. I'm sure they’re still tucked somewhere beneath my bed.” 

“You’ll have to read them to me one day,” Mako said, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants. (Y/N) smiled sadly. 

“Let me show you the best part.” 

She led him up to the tower, the only remaining fully stable part of the castle. Ivy vines curled up the base of the tower, having grown so much that they now started to cover the inside as well. Instead of windows, the tower had complete openings in the brick. It made it very cold, but it held a better view of the kingdom than (Y/N’s) own castle. In the distance were the mountains, the entire town nestled in a little pocket beneath them. Closer was the castle, its entire structure and grounds in complete view. (Y/N) glanced up at Mako, but his eyes were trained on the view before them. she smiled. 

“I hadn’t been expecting to come here,” (Y/N) said, wrapping her arms around herself. “Or else I would've brought a jacket.” 

“It really is exceptional,” Mako agreed. “Thank you for bringing me here.” 

(Y/N) shrugged. “You should know what’s in your kingdom. You’re going to be King Mako, after all.” She smiled brightly up at him. 

Mako’s cheeks flushed a pale pink. (Y/N) couldn’t tell if it was from the wind or from something else. 

She returned to her room, surprised to see Korra sitting on her bed and twiddling with her bronze dagger. “I thought you were going to stay in your room all day.” 

“I got bored, went to the ruins. How was your day?” 

“For the most part, boring. I’m never doing your job ever again. Although you should’ve seen Tahno and Mako today. It was like two starving dogs fighting over a piece of meat.” 

“Really? And what was the meat?” 

“You.” (Y/N) nearly choked on her own air. “Tahno kept insisting that he come to your chambers to make sure you were alright. I would’ve punched him in the face, but Mako was all, ‘I forbid you,’ and Tahno said, ‘Who are you to forbid me?’ And Mako said ‘Your new king.’ It was very dramatic, I wish you could’ve been there. Although now I think everyone is under the impression that you’re going to marry Mako.” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. She would have paid thousands in coins to be able to see that conversation. “I’ve decided I’m leaving after my birthday celebration. One last hurrah, you know?” 

Korra sat up quickly, a frown on her face. “Where will you go?” 

“Somewhere,” (Y/N) shrugged. “Not far away from you, of course. Someone has to keep you in line.” 

“You won’t be my princess anymore. I won’t have to listen to you.” (Y/N) laughed. 

“As if you ever listened to me anyway.” 

(Y/N) had struck a bargain with Tenzin for her birthday celebration. She would go all out, as he wished, as long as the people in town were invited. She wanted to make sure that her last act of being royalty would be good and that it would help people. Begrudgingly, Tenzin agreed. 

A birthday such as this one called for something more than the dresses that were in her closet. She could have paid to have one made, but a better idea had taken root in her head and wouldn’t leave. For the first time in years, (Y/N) walked into her mother’s chambers. 

The room had been well taken care of, as per her father’s orders. No dust shined in the sunlight. It was cleaned every day, each element inspected to ensure that there had been no damage to her mother’s memory. Carefully, (Y/N) stepped through the doorway and to her mother’s wardrobe. 

There had been one dress that her mother had worn that was always her favorite. She found it in the middle of the wardrobe, sticking out just a little more than the others as if it were calling to her. It was a beautiful sage green dress, made of the finest satin. It’s neckline came just below her collarbone, exposing the smooth skin of her shoulders. It’s sleeves reached her elbows, widening out into a bell shape. The dress’s design was simple, but (Y/N) felt that something this beautiful did not need extra frills. 

Once the handmaidens had helped her dress, she looked at herself in the mirror. Her mother stared back at her. “You look just like her,” said Katara, the oldest of the handmaidens. She had been with (Y/N’s) mother since she was a baby, and had been with (Y/N) for nearly the same amount of time. (Y/N) smiled down at her. 

“Thank you.” Katara moved over to the glass cabinet that contained her mother’s jewels. Inside sat the queen’s crown, each diamond polished to the utmost brilliance. (Y/N) bent down so the small woman could place it on her head. 

Korra met (y/n) at the top of the steps, dressed in her royal guard uniform. “You look beautiful,” Korra said, her eyes glistening with tears. This would be the last night the two friends would see each other. 

“So do you,” (Y/N) said with a smile. “You clean up well.” 

“Hush,” Korra said, elbowing (Y/N) in the ribs. (Y/N) giggled before looping her arm through hers. 

“I may or may not have extended a personal invitation to Asami,” (Y/N) said as they walked down the grand staircase. They could hear the voices coming from the ballroom. 

“I know,” Korra said with a smirk. “I may or may not have hand delivered said invitation.” (Y/N’s) eyes widened with excitement. She’d have to try her best to keep her eye on Korra throughout the night. 

Bolin and Mako waited at the bottom of the steps, too engaged in their conversation with each other to notice the girls approaching. Korra cleared her throat as soon as they were right behind them. The brothers turned around. 

Bolin spoke first, a bright smile coming to his face. “Hey! You guys look great!” Bolin wore a deep green suit, paired with a gold cravat. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” (Y/N) beamed down at him. She turned to Mako, whose eyes were trained on her. 

(Y/N) had never held much reverence for the boys that surrounded her as she grew up. They were all stuck up or arrogant, eager to impress the princess so they would have a chance at being king. She ignored them as best as she could. Her life was too busy to focus on anything other than her duties. Whenever she had gotten a free moment, she preferred to spend it with Korra. 

But as she stared at Mako, with his quick eyes and permanent smirk in a deep red suit, she felt something she had never experienced before. A pulling at her chest, deep and fierce at the bottom of her heart, that made her breath catch as soon as he smiled at her. 

(Y/N) had always felt out of place in her royal life, like she was constantly keeping up an act. It made sense, then, that she would have fallen for the boy whose life was completely opposite to hers. 

“You look beautiful,” he said quietly, just loud enough for her to hear. (Y/N) felt her face grow hot. He offered her his hand. “May i?” 

(Y/N) looked back at Korra, who gave her a wink and disappeared into the crowd with bolin. She turned toward mako and nodded, placing her hand in his. 

The first few dances of the night were group dances, the kind where the pairs swapped partners throughout. (Y/N) would be lying if she said she hadn’t completely ignored all of her partners as they tried to talk to her, instead searching the crowd as she spun around until her eyes landed on Mako. Sometimes, it seemed like he had been looking for her too. 

After Tenzin announced her birthday and the crowd erupted into cheers, the music slowed and quieted, playing softly as the guests mingled amongst themselves. It was then that (Y/N) found Mako standing at the edge of the crowd. 

“Where’d you learn to dance like that?” (Y/N) asked as she approached him. Mako smirked. 

“Commoners have parties too, you know.” (Y/N) grinned. 

“I'll have to go to one sometime.” Mako shifted on his feet. He seemed nervous. 

“I didn’t get the chance earlier, but happy birthday (Y/N).” She smiled again. 

“Thank you, Mako.” 

“Could you walk with me? I hate to take you away from your guests, but…” 

“It’s really alright. I told you, I'm not the biggest fan of these sorts of things.” She took Mako’s hand in hers and let him lead the way. 

He took her through the hallways of the castle and to his room, a simple guest bedroom on the floor below hers. “Wait here,” he said, before disappearing inside and shutting the door behind him. (Y/N) raised her eyebrows, confused. whatever she had been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this. 

After a few moments, Mako opened the door, one of his hands behind his back. “Alright, you can come in.” 

Slowly, (Y/N) entered his room. It was simple, but there were elements of it that were so Mako. It was hard to explain why it made (Y/N) feel giddy being in there, or why butterflies had nestled themselves in her stomach. 

“I got you a present,” Mako said. 

“You didn’t have to get me anything,” (Y/N) chided. 

“I know, I wanted to.” He placed a small box on the wooden table between them. (Y/N) reached for it. “Before you open it, I want to say something. I sincerely thank you for bringing my brother and I into your home. for giving us the means to lead a better life. And while I’ve accepted your offer of taking the throne, I just wanted to say…” He paused, chewing on his bottom lip. “I wanted to ask if maybe you would change your mind.” 

“I'm not changing my mind about this, Mako. I don’t want the throne.” 

“Not that, I couldn't care less about the throne. I wanted to ask if you would change your mind about leaving.” 

(Y/N) blinked at him, unsure of what to say. 

“I didn’t accept your offer because I want to be king.” 

“Then why did you?” 

“Because if I don't, if I force you to stay here, I could be preventing you from doing what is best for you. So I agreed to be king because I didn't want you to be trapped here. Which is why I’m begging you now, please stay.” 

“Mako…” 

“You can’t tell me there isn’t a part of you that isn’t unsure about leaving. I saw it that night in your room. You might not want the crown, but you’re not certain that you want to leave.”

“If I give up the crown, there’s no reason for me to stay. I can’t just live in the palace as a commoner. I'd have to leave, it’s the only thing to do.” 

“I want you to lead the life you want. I know your plan is to leave the kingdom tonight. If leaving is what you think is best, I understand.”

(Y/N) stared up at him. She was unsure what would be best. She had no plan, no idea what she wanted to do once she had walked through the castle gates. She anticipated that things would figure themselves out. 

But the man in front of her was throwing a wrench into her plans. He stared at her so honestly that (Y/N) thought he might be staring into her soul. Was leaving what she really wanted? She would leave behind everyone she had ever known. Tenzin, Korra, Bolin. And Mako. 

“If leaving is what you truly want,” Mako continued. “After tonight I will send you away with everything you need. I won’t bother you again. But before you leave, you have to know. I need you to know. That I love you, (Y/N). You are reckless and brave. You once called me kind and selfless, but those are the qualities I see in you. You asked me to take the throne and I did. I’d take on the weight of the world for you if you requested. If you leave, you’ll be taking a piece of me with you.” 

(Y/N) looked up at him, searching his face for a smirk or a trick, but Mako remained serious. Genuine. 

“If you don’t feel the same, I understand. I just needed to tell you before it was too late.” 

(Y/N) swiftly crossed the distance between the two of them, fisting her hands into his dress shirt and pulling him down toward her. Her lips collided with his. In the fairytales she used to read, it always took someone a moment to get used to being kissed by the other, but Mako was quick. His arms wrapped around her frame, pulling her so tightly to him that she felt like she might burst. 

They pulled away a few moments later, Mako leaning his head against hers as they caught their breath. He separated first, reaching back toward the small box that had sat forgotten on the table. mako’s nimble fingers untied the box, guiding one of her hands to it. 

She opened it, revealing a ring. Its band was gold, with a large diamond set in the middle and two smaller diamonds surrounding it. It was simple, but it was the most beautiful ring (Y/N) had ever seen. 

“It was my mother’s,” Mako said quietly. “Even if you leave, I want you to take it with you.” 

Tears streamed down her face. “What’s wrong?” Mako questioned, lifting his hands to her face to wipe away her tears. “Did I upset you?” 

(Y/N) shook her head fiercely, trying to gather her voice. “You’d give me something so precious to you, even if I decided to leave?” 

“You are precious to me,” Mako insisted. “I want you to be happy. No matter what you choose, (Y/N), I won’t hate you.” 

She looked up at him through watery eyes and stood on her toes, kissing him once more. When she pulled away, she laughed. “I tried to convince myself that I didn’t have feelings for you. I thought it would make leaving easier. But every moment I spent with you made me sad, because it meant that I was one step closer to the last.” She lifted her hand to touch his cheek, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. “I never expected for you to have my heart, but it’s yours.”

Mako breathed a sigh of relief, a bright smile coming to his face as he drew (Y/N) into his arms. He spun her around the room, both laughing before he set her back down again. 

He took her right hand and slid the ring on her middle finger. They exchanged a knowing look. Not yet. 

Once (y/n) had composed herself and Mako had sneaked his fair share of kisses, the two left his bedroom and returned to the ball, filtering back into the crowd completely unnoticed. 

A tap on her shoulder startled her, and (Y/N) turned around to find Korra smirking down at her. “Where have you been? Tahno hijacked the ball for a bit. Said he wouldn’t let anyone leave until you accepted his proposal.”

“Did he?” (Y/N) questioned, her grip on Mako’s arm tightening. “I must’ve been distracted. I trust you took care of it, then?” 

“Duh,” Korra smiled. “I enjoyed throwing him through the palace doors.” 

(Y/N) squinted at Korra's face before reaching up and rubbing at the corner of her mouth with her thumb. Lipstick, in a shade strikingly similar to Asami’s. 

“I can explain that,” Korra said quickly, wiping at her face with her sleeve. (Y/N) laughed. 

“You can tell me all about it in the morning.” 

“In the morning?” Korra repeated, her blue eyes going wide. She glanced at Mako, who looked absently elsewhere, but the corners of his lips were turned up just slightly into a smile. 

“See you tomorrow, Captain Korra. Feel free to arrive a bit late.” (Y/N) gave her a wink before pulling Mako further into the crowd to dance.

---

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PERM TAGLIST: 

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[tssidesfics]

TSSides Anti-Fairytale AU

I’m not coming for fairytales. They have their place, but as an aromantic person...I do not feel seen. And then I decided to re-watch Enchanted (pirated, of course, because fuck Disney). And then this idea happened. 

Patton was a child-king who married his best friend when forced to, and then she died in childbirth. He’s given Roman everything he could, but he’s lived his life dictated by the advisors who’ve used him as a puppet king his whole rule. He’s miserable because he doesn’t like how the system functions but he thinks he’s chained to tradition.

Roman copes with his complicated relationship with his father by questing and almost dying, like, every other week. Anxious attachment for days. Boy keeps trying very hard to find a princess and can’t seem to figure out why nothing will stick. To which Patton goes “oh. He got it from me. Oops.”

All I know is Remus is aromantic and aplatonic and exactly as chaotic as he should be.

Roman’s birthday. Ball. The classic. He greets all the noble families and he’s seen those losers a bunch before, but this time, he meets a new “girl” with a family he usually hates who intrigues him. He is not a girl and I will not be misgendering him because ew, but, gist: Virgil, transphobic rich parents forcing him to conform to gender roles, absolutely miserable, in Peak Bitch (gender-neutral) form. Roman mistakenly believes he’s cured and talks Virgil up a lot. Convinces himself he’s fallen madly in love.

Problem is, he tells Patton, who’s shocked he found a “girl” but absolutely is on-board, and then goes to the family to ask for Virgil’s hand and there’s no Virgil.

Thus begins the Mulan ripoff but openly trans where Virgil poses as a boy servant at the castle because his parents can’t get into the castle willy-nilly and it’s the safest place to be. Absolutely loathes Roman’s very existence because that dumb bitch flirted with him while he was a girl and therefore VIrgil thinks he is The WorstTM. Then Roman catches him grouching about and decides to solve this by teaching him sword-play, mostly to give him the excuse to beat on a dummy with a sword-shaped stick. 

Meanwhile Roman is just le sigh I did it again. I connected more with a boy than a girl. Why did she have to run away? Now I’m doomed to be weird.

Well then assassins break into the castle and Ever-Paranoid Virgil immediately susses them out as bad news and uses the remnants of the ball to absolutely wreck them when they try to kill Roman and his father while they’re taking a rare opportunity to chat and bond. Patton decides he is Adopting This Child, fuck you, advisors, he’s as thin as a stick, and Virgil now gets to eat with the royal family. 

It’s the first time Patton has ever actually told his advisors to go fuck themselves. It’s the first step toward a positive turnaround and it happened because Patton’s dad instincts took over and nothing in the world is more valid than that, fight me.

Enter genderqueer icon morally neutral witch, Janus, all pronouns, who’s trying to topple the monarchy to enact lasting change and didn’t want to dirty her hands right away, but honestly people are so unreliable. So he gets onto Patton’s crew as a handmaiden and excuse you who gave the king permission to be actually endearing?

Roman feels slightly weird because Patton’s calling Virgil “kiddo” and he’s not calling him his son but he also treats him very similarly as he does to Roman and Remus, which isn’t great but is significantly better than it could be, but Roman’s got a crush. 

Then Janus finds out Virgil’s trans and reveals this. Virgil thinks he’s about to get blackmailed into murdering the only people who have ever cared about him and then Janus just rolls their eyes like “excuse you I’m evil not psychopathic. I can give you a potion to make your body reflect your mind. You in?”

“Great, so my only cure to stop feeling like frozen trash reheated in a forest fire is to accept the highly dangerous bribe of a definitely evil witch! Thanks! I hate it!”

Yes Virgil memes even in a fantasy world where Tumblr doesn’t exist.

Also Virgil and Roman are bonding. A lot. They’re getting very close and Virgil even lets slip that he loves Roman and then tries to fling himself out a window. Roman gets touched, stops him, and tries to kiss him, but Virgil leans away. Roman expresses confusion.

“I...I love you, but I don’t want to kiss you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t either. But I’ve...never wanted to kiss anyone. For any reason.”

“But...you still love me?”

“I do. I’m sorry.”

Roman...doesn’t feel as rejected as he thinks he maybe should? Honestly, it’s not totally a relief, but it’s just kinda...neutral. It’s not even a disappointment. 

Well, Janus is not evil and actually wants to run a kingdom (instating a committee mixed of educated rich fucks and working class receiving education) a whole lot more than Patton, who thinks she’s just...kinda awesome and very misunderstood. There’s a lot of hissing and grumbling that they’re not misunderstood, they’re evil, they don’t even have a tragic backstory, they just kill people to enact the change they want to see, just because they got ditched in a forest as a baby and was raised by a magic snake means nothing. The snake was a very loving and supportive parent.

Roman talks to Patton and Patton is like “fuck marriage rules. Fuck heteronormativity. Fuck my advisors. My kingdom is a haven for the gays. All the gays. Of every color. Come here and be merry and queer.”

Virgil’s just like “yo no reason but in this new world where it’s okay to love whatever gender is it maybe cool to be a boy when the world says you’re a girl?”

Janus draws a knife and glares at Patton and Patton’s just like “even if my partner wasn’t threatening to kill me I’d say it was fine why?”

“No reason.”

“Virgil.”

“What?”

“Is there something you want to share?”

“No.”

“Is there something you need to share?”

“Fuck you.”

“You’re being defensive again, Storm Grouch.”

Virgil sticks his tongue out. “Fine. People used to think I was a girl and I have a stupid body. Happy?”

And Patton learns from Janus the fine art of Validating The Fuck Out Of Gender.

The advisors stage a coop and lock Janus in an anti-magic cage, and then at the same time Virgil’s biological nightmares track him down and steal a spelled green apple from Janus’ shop they give Virgil. You know the drill. Deep sleep like death, yadda yadda.

Well, they immediately claim the body making a big dramatic deal about how they have to bury “her” and they’ll take “her” home to see her off and it’s so tragic, just as they were reunited, when the reality is they have the antidote back home, they’re just looking for control over his life again.

Except Roman goes off. “He is staying here where he--where he will be buried under the name Virgil dressed properly and if you came anywhere near his body I’ll kill you myself.”

Guess what constitutes a totally platonic, non-kiss related act of queerplatonic true love, bitch? Fighting your transphobic partner’s parents over their dead body.

Kingdom’s retaken, sweeping reform while Patton retires to be a stay at home dad to fix his relationship with his kids. Virgil gets formerly adopted. The stepparent is actually a morally neutral genderqueer witch who runs the kingdom fairly and justly, the central love story is trans and aromantic, and my queer ass is something resembling happy.

Logan is probably one of the advisors and the only one with sense who probably starts knocking off his coworkers after the coop because they’re all deeply, deeply stupid. Remus probably spends half the story making friends with a troll he brings in to save the day in the third act.

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 8.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage

Warnings In This Chapter: Angst

A/N: Always the most gigantic, humongous shoutout to my loves @xjoonchildx​, @ladyartemesia​, @ppersonna​ for rooting me on and making it so easy to write these characters who I have come to adore!

The house was quiet when you first woke up. There's an overwhelming sense of comfort in the air as you step out of your bedroom.

You've been getting into a daily routine here, without it you'd probably feel lost or without a purpose.

You really adored the small waterfall alcove beside your room. The sounds are so peaceful and the koi that swim beneath the glass floor are absolutely gorgeous. Entering here was always the beginning of your daily routine.

You weren't fond of wearing heels and for the first time in a long time you had on sneakers. After feeling sick for a few days you decided on a comfortable hoodie, albeit still expensive but you like it. The leggings you wear hug you closely and it brings you ease.

"Little dove?" you hear from behind as you stare down at the koi fish.

"Morning," you say, turning your head to the CEO as he leans against the doorframe of his bedroom.

His eyes are bleary, his forehead creased from the bright light that bleeds through the stained glass windows.

"Why do you always get up so fucking early? You should be sleeping, the baby needs rest. Does it not?" he asks, scratching at his neck with a yawn.

"I'm used to getting up this early, I did have a job not too long ago," you reply, looking over the waterfall walls.

He puts his head back against the door frame, his fingers combing through his sleepy bed head.

"I shouldn't be speaking to you anyway. It's before your morning coffee," you jeer, sitting down on the marble bench.

"Shut up," he retorts but you can hear the humor in his voice. You notice the corners of his lips flickering upward as he shoves off of the doorway.

"Madam?" you hear from the end of the hall.

Your attention turns to Maya as she bows.

Yoongi watches your face light up, he sees the true joy in you and he snorts gently in response. You're really a blessing to this house.

"Good morning Maya!" you say, standing up from the bench quickly.

"Easy does it, little dove." Yoongi murmurs, folding his arms.

"The neighbor Kim Yoona is here to see you." Tilting your head, you can't begin to register the name.

Yoongi laughs gently as he enters the hallway.

"Get me an Irish coffee, please Maya. I'm going to need it if Yoona is here," you turn to him as he speaks, watching as he rubs hand fists over his eyes.

"Who's Yoona?" you ask softly.

"Namjoon's wife. She's actually really sweet. Which is against my religion... so," he says before putting his hand on your lower back to escort you to the staircase.

You don't pull away from him oddly enough. You let him guide you, it's easier than fighting so early in the morning.

"She went to Sairmount Academy like us, too." he notifies you as you descend the stairs together.

"Huh." you mumble thoughtfully.

There were very few memories of Sairmount Academy you remembered. It's kind of bizarre knowing that Yoongi was around all throughout your schooling.

You didn't care to remember many things from school. It was always the same, you were poor and people were rich. You were bullied, Leena and Jin were the only ones who cared for you.

"Morning Yoona," Yoongi says as you reach the bottom floor.

Turning to you, you take in the woman who stands by the couch. She has light brown hair with dirty blonde highlights. Her body is slim and proportionate adorning light ripped jeans and a cashmere turtleneck. The thing that stands out the most though, is her paddock boots. She must really love her horses. She's clean cut and absolutely gorgeous.

But, as she smiles something seems familiar to you.

"Morning, Yoongles," he grimaces at her nickname, accepting the coffee that is rushed over to him.

"Why are you here?" he asks, leaning against the marble stairwell banister.

"Came to see an old friend." Yoona replies.

Tilting your head, your eyes begin to widen.

If she had black, long hair with small polka dot bows and if she was years younger, she would look exactly like an old friend.

"Bang Yoona?" You ask softly and she points to herself with a comical wink.

"That's me," she cheers happily.

"Oh my God!" you cry out, rushing over to hug her.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow as he watches you both hug. His heart warms at the sight of your pure excitement.

"Small world," he murmurs above the lip of his coffee cup.

"I changed my last name when I got married," she tells you, placing both hands on either side of your face as she pulls away.

You can remember when you were little. Yoona welcomed you quite like Leena. You were happy to spend time with her when you were seven. But, after time went on, she left to Germany with her parents when they accepted different jobs.

You were sad back then having only Leena but then it became a distant memory as you got older.

"You look amazing!" you compliment her as she brushes some hair behind your ear.

"As do you! Once Joon told me that it's you that got pregnant with Yoongi's baby I had to see you!" Yoongi smirks gently as you pull away from one another.

"This is such a pleasant surprise!" you cheer as she slings her arm over your shoulders.

"Come spend the day at my house. Leave Yoongi to his sad self," she winks at you and you giggle in reply.

"Fuck you." Yoongi mumbles. Yoona sticks her tongue out at him before pulling you towards the door.

"I'll show you my horses! They're so beautiful!" she tells you enthusiastically.

"Hey." Yoongi calls to you, whistling loudly for your attention.

You turn to him, a wide smile on your face which makes him smirk.

"Be careful and no riding the horses with the baby inside of you," he says pointedly.

You nod happily before hooking your arm around Yoona's waist.

"Watch out for her!" Yoongi calls to her and she snorts gently as you both walk up the entryway steps.

"Always. I probably know her better than you do," she retorts with a laugh.

Yoongi grimaces at the thought before rolling his eyes.

"Yeah well she's having my baby," he retorts softly.

He watches the front door close as he sips his coffee.

"Maya!" he calls to the empty house as he pushes himself off the stairwell.

"Sir?" he hears in the distance.

"Bring me my yearbooks!" he calls as he begins to ascend the stairs.

You better be careful or he'll raise hell with the Kims.

The walk to Namjoon's house is absolutely breathtaking. You've always stuck around the house, taking walks around the long stoned paths by the garden. But now, walking towards the large mansion in the distance, you can only be in awe of the sights before you.

"I cannot believe what a small world we live in." Yoona says, ripping you out of your trance.

You giggle as she hugs you tightly to her side.

"I know," you reply as you both move out of the way as a car passes by.

The limousine begins to slow down, the window sliding down as well.

Very unfortunate for you, the face of Sera is right in your sights.

"Good morning Yoona! You look ravishing today!" Sera's voice is filled with overly sweet tones.

Your stomach begins to roll at how fake she is.

"Hi." Yoona says briskly, hand gripping beneath your arm tighter.

"See you've taken on a pet project. How gracious of you." Sera says, leaning her body out the window and grimacing in your direction.

Your friend from childhood stops in her tracks. "I think Y/N is delightfully where she should be in life. Unlike you, Sera. If anyone needs a pet project, I'll be sure to have them reach out to you."

You can hear Sera scoff loudly as Yoona tugs you down the road.

"Oh, and Sera?" Yoona calls Yoongi's wife.

You watch the pretty woman angle her head out of the car as if she would be expecting an apology.

"It's 2020, no one drives around in a limousine anymore. It's an embarrassing way to flaunt your money. You should get a Rolls Royce or an Astin Martin. No one wants to see you in a rickety old limo. That shit is for the birds," you put your hand over your mouth, gasping with a laugh as Yoona tugs you down toward her mansion.

"I cannot believe you!" you squeal as she laughs loudly.

Entering Namjoon and Yoona's house you're astounded at how different yet gorgeous it is to where you live now.

The house has an English feel to it, limestone and wooden hardware really bring it all together. The house screams Victorian Gothic and you find it all so wonderful.

"What do you think?" Yoona asks as she passes through the sitting room

"This is beautiful, Yoona. I can't even believe it!" you say in awe. Your eyes glance up, looking at the chandelier before she's tugging you into the next room.

"Namjoon and I are a bit obsessed with old English history. Like this, this is my most prized possession in the whole house," she says stopping in front of a large glass case.

Looking down, your eyes widen so big they could almost fall out of your head.

Gorgeous jewels and diamonds sit nestled in silver and gold. There are crowns, necklaces, earrings and all sorts of other baubles.

"Holy shit!" you whisper out.

Your hands situate behind your back as if you're in a museum.

"All of these belonged to King Henry the Eighth and his many wives! My favorite is Anne Boleyns." Yoona says pointing at a crown that is more grandiose than all of the others.

"Yoona, these are really beautiful," you breathe out.

She wrinkles her nose gently, leaning against the varnished hardwood table.

"Ready to go see my horses?" she asks as her maid brings you both glasses of water.

You nod to her happily as you move away from the royal jewelry.

Stepping out into the backyard of her house, you can't seem to see where the line is drawn between her house and Yoongis. The grass is perfectly cut and a luscious green that makes you feel at peace.

"Just over here." Yoona calls to you as she takes off toward the horse barn.

"Whoa." It feels as if you're almost in a movie.

You can see men walking to and fro with metal buckets filled with water and different foods. They all have on the same uniforms, something akin to what jockeys would wear before a big race.

The horse barn, as you approach, looks just like a home. Something comfortable and clean that could very well have people living inside of it.

"My pride and joy is Rapture. He's won five awards since he's been born and he is the biggest sweetheart," your heart warms at how enthusiastic your childhood friend sounds.

The barn doors open and you feel as if you've been thrust into a fairytale.

There are six horses, all beautifully kept with various colors and sizes on their coats.  Whinies and neighs enrapture your ears as the animals spot Yoona.

"It's like you're the Snow White of horses," you whisper to her as she picks up some carrots by the front door.

"Well, they're my babies," she replies, a motherly smile plastered on her face.

"Jooheon," she calls out.

You watch a man around your age appear. His hair is a light shade of blue and his eyes are soft and doe-like. His cheeks are high and his jaw is sharp like it has been carved by the gods.

He's incredibly tall and muscular, his thick thighs quiver and flex as he walks towards you both.

"Madams," he says, bowing down to you both.

His eyes lock with yours as he stands back up, a smirk on his features as he winks at you.

Finally, Yoongi had brought home his laptop for work. He hasn't really given much thought to why he feels the need to stay home so much these days. He doesn't want to think about it, he just lets things be.

Throwing his feet up on his desk, his eyes falter to the stack of yearbooks that Maya has so kindly brought him.

Seeing Yoona this morning, someone he's always known suddenly knowing you, it made him curious.

How could he have gone throughout all of his Sairmount schooling AND college to never know you?

Sipping his coffee, he opens up the first yearbook.

His eyes narrow at the pages, looking over all the small kids with the same uniforms.

"Y/N. Y/N." he mumbles as his index finger glazes over the children's faces.

His eyebrows crease as he leans back in his desk chair.

You were in none of these pictures, not that he could see anyway.

Flipping through the pages of the book, he passes the newspaper club, the computer club, the chess club before finding solo pictures of each student.

His lips puff out as he skims along the pictures.

"Holy shit," he whispers, setting down his coffee cup.

There you were. Small and cute in front of his eyes.

But, there's something familiar about you as he continues to stare at the picture. You with your small tie and blazer, he feels like he's always known you.

Then it hits him, you were in his class. He fucking remembers you, sitting three seats behind him in History.

Purchasing his hand beneath his chin, he stares at the small pictures in his history textbook. He couldn't be bothered to study for the pop quiz and he knows that he probably failed.

His father was going to be disappointed, as always. His father is never proud of anything he does so why should this matter.

"Sir Min," the teacher, Mrs. Park, calls to him.

With the roll of his eyes, he looks up at his teacher.

"Yeah," he mumbles as Hoseok slides a note beneath the lip of his book.

"Do you realize that I've been calling your name for the past three minutes?" Mrs. Park asks as she leans down on her desk.

Running his fingers through his hair, the tip of his tongue grazes over his teeth. He leans back in his own chair, eyes glazing over the teacher with a bored expression.

"No. I was too busy looking at what underwear people used to wear," he mutters aloud.

He can hear other kids snickering and murmuring at his joke. A sly smirk begins to spread over his face while he fixes his tie.

"You think this is funny? You think failing is funny?" she quips as she holds up the quiz.

He can feel his neck heating up out of embarrassment.

"The future heir of Kisung can't even pass a history quiz? Maybe your parents should get a phone call," she asks him, her legs wading through the multitude of desks before plopping the sheet down on his table.

He takes in all the red lines that are scoured over the paper.

"I bet you can't even tell me when the Mongols invaded the Goryeo dynasty," she says earning a multitude of hushed voices.

He turns his head to the others behind him, his eyes dancing over the kids that sit with their eyes on their desks.

Then they falter to you as you stare at him shamelessly. Your small hands form fists as you look from him to Mrs. Park.

Secretly, you begin to raise your fingers.

One.

Two.

One.

Six.

He clears his throat as your eyes falter to your desk and he turns back to the teacher as she raises her eyebrow.

"The Mongols invade Goryeo in 1216," Yoongi says as he swings his arm over the lip of his chair.

She purses her lips at his answer, eyes narrowing at him.

Maybe your information was wrong.

"Well, if you knew that then why did you fail the quiz?" she asks softly, retreating to her desk at the front of the class.

He breathes a gentle sigh of relief, turning his head to you. He nods to you as Leena pinches your arm. Nodding back, the corner of your lips flicker upwards before pinching your best friend.

Yoongi chuckles to himself as he recalls the memory.

You saved his sorry ass that day, if it wasn't for you he would have had to kneel on rice in a corner for God knows how long.

"Interesting," he whispers to himself as he continues to flicker through the yearbook.

"You have a phone call, Mrs. Kim," someone announces from the entrance to the horse barn.

She hums in reply, running her hand over the soft mane of Rapture.

"I'll just be a minute, why don't you spend time with the horses. They seem to love you," she suggests and you nod happily as Rapture rubs his large face against yours.

Giggling, you hold out an apple slice for him and he takes it without complaint.

"You're so pretty," you tell the horse as he munches happily on the slice.

"Do you know anything about horses?" you hear from behind you.

Turning to the owner of the voice, you smile gently as Jooheon wipes a rag over his sweaty face.

"Unfortunately not. But, they're very beautiful," you reply as Rapture nuzzles the back of your head.

The stableman chuckles as the horse rests his head on your shoulder.

"Rapture always finds it easy to feel comfortable around gorgeous women," you can feel the apples of your cheeks blushing as Jooheon tosses the rag he holds up in the air.

"I'm sure you really like this job," you say, running your hand over the horse's neck.

He nods to your statement, leaning back against one of the wooden doors. "I've always liked animals more than people. When you look into a horse's eyes, you can see so much emotion. You can practically see their souls bare in front of you."

His admission makes you think. You can understand people that love and respect animals more than people.

"That's really sweet," you tell him as he fixes his uniform.

He gives you a smile, one that's enchanting showing off his perfectly white teeth.

"It's just the truth," he replies as Rocket, an all white horse, nuzzles his face.

"I know, girl. Don't get jealous cause I'm talking to a pretty woman," he whispers and this time your ears heat up.

"The Madam was telling everyone that you're an old school friend," he says, patting the horse's face.

You nod, a reminiscent smile on your features. "Yeah. Yoona was a good friend when we were younger."

He takes delight in how you smile, how perfectly shy you are.

"Did you move in around here?"

"Yeah. I'm living with the Min's," you answer as Rapture snorts gently onto your cheek.

"Must be nice to have money," he quips.

You shake your hands quickly. "Oh. I'm not rich."

He hums playfully, looking over your expensive attire with an unsure eye.

"I thought Min Yoongi was married," he counters as he slides his right foot up onto the stable door behind him.

You watch his thighs flex once more before clearing your throat. "He is. I'm just... I'm pregnant with his... y'know... his baby."

Jooheon whistles loudly at the admission. "Interesting. But, you're not dating him, are you?"

The question makes you laugh, feeding another apple slice to Rapture while shaking your head. "No. I am not."

Jooheon nods slowly as he stands up and you can hear the horse barn door opening to your right. "Can I ask you out on a date then?"

Puffing from his cigar, Yoongi leans back into the armchair he sits in. His fingers pull and push at his cards on the green felt.

"I call." Jeongguk mumbles and the CEO tosses some extra chips into the center of the poker table.

Although Jimin was invited to tonight's poker game, Yoongi thought it wise that he didn't accept. The shorter man was hanging on by a hair, the last time he was in this house.

Guk was more than happy to sit in his seat beside Taehyung for the evening.

The classical music swells throughout the room and Yoongi stares down at the chips in hand. Once that memory of you from childhood came flooding back, he can remember smaller ones too.

Ones like when you were being bullied or when the girls tried to steal your lunch. He can remember all the times he heard Leena screaming to protect you, and he finds himself feeling more accepting of her.

"Yoona had a great time with Y/N today. She loves her," Namjoon says, earning everyone's attention.

"Well I think they used to be friends, no? I don't remember much about Y/N but I remember that she was friends with Leena, Yoona and of course Jin," Hoseok says.

"What do you mean 'of course Jin?'" Yoongi finds himself asking, something inside of him growing terse and annoyed.

"Well he was always with them. He was Leena's boyfriend when we were younger too. He was the only boy that used to hang around with them."

He starts to simmer down at his admission. "Oh," Yoongi whispers.

"Read 'em and weep, hyungs," Jeongguk says with a smug grin, flipping over his cards.

Taehyung groans long and low, his hands carding through his hair as Guk shows them a straight flush.

"Goddamn. This kid wins in everything! Whether it's boxing, car racing or cards!" Tae complains as Guk collects his chips.

Yoongi chuckles to himself, lifting his whisky glass to his lips.

"I'm really glad Y/N has a friend around here." Namjoon says and to this the Kisung CEO nods.

He wants you to thrive. He can say this until his face turns blue.

As Maya begins to deal the cards once more, the library door slowly begins to open. The sound draws everyone's attention and they stay silent as you enter.

Your face is buried in a book, your feet slowly shuffling into the big room. The sight of you makes Yoongi smirk, your hand is pressed on your flat stomach as you continue farther into the room.

You look precious. Your hair is slightly wet from a shower not too long ago and your eyes are enraptured with the words you read.

"Beautiful," he whispers under his breath but the sound is swallowed by Namjoon clearing his throat.

You look up quickly, clearly startled by the noise.

"Oh my God, it's Thursday! I'm so sorry!" you cry out as you slam the large book in hand shut.

"No worries, little dove. Come. Get a book," Yoongi calls to you as you try to leave.

"Hey Y/N." Namjoon says with a comforting smile.

Your eyes meet his and the friendly face makes you smile widely. "Hi Joon. Good evening!"

You wink at Maya, scurrying behind her to find a new book to read.

Oh, Joon is it?

Yoongi rolls his eyes as he burns out his cigar. He wafts the smoke away from your direction, picking up his whisky glass.

You had changed your clothes. Now wearing a purple free flowing sundress.

Might be better to not have tight clothes on, if they make you uncomfortable. The father of your child finds himself thinking.

"Y/N. Can you tell Leena to call me, please?" Taehyung whines.

Turning to him, you narrow your eyes playfully.

Why can't Yoongi see you like this? Is it because he's too big of a dick?

He wishes you would be so free with him…

"Tae. I'm told that you're in the dog house," you jeer as you grab a book.

Tae, is it?

Yoongi gulps down the rest of his drink, his throat burning as his gut explodes with alcoholic fire.

"Tell her I'll book the penthouse. I promise," he says, holding out his pinky.

Humming cutely, you step onto the platform beside Maya. Grabbing his pinky, he gives you a wink and it almost sends Yoongi onto the fucking floor.

"Don't you have some reading to do, little dove?" he asks quickly, watching how tightly Taehyung grips at your pinky.

You look over at the CEO before nodding. He gives you a small smile and your heart stutters as you return it.

"I'm Jeongguk! But, you can just call me Guk or Gukkie," the youngest calls to you.

You bow your head to him with a smile. "Nice to meet you."

"That's Hoseok," Namjoon says, pointing his thumb to the left of him.

You give a small wave before looking down at the book you hold.

"Well I'll let you get back to it. I'll just be reading," you say, mostly to Yoongi.

He nods above the lips of his glass, watching you press the book to your flat womb.

You're fucking endearing as all hell.

"Or, you can join us," Joon suggests.

Yoongi grimaces at the idea. Why would he fucking ask you to stay? In a room with all these handsome men? No.

"No. She said she wants to rea-" the father of your child begins to say before you cut him off.

"I might destroy you," you quip and his mouth hangs open at your banter.

Yoongi watches as Maya begins to smile, a proud smirk gracing her features already.

"Poker is about luck," Hoseok jeers.

"Well I did get knocked up on a pass by. Seems like I'm pretty lucky," you joke, making the others laugh.

Yoongi snorts to himself as you share camaraderie with his friends.

"That's my baby you're talking about," he says, pointing his index finger over the lip of his glass to you.

You give him a warm smile, the apples of your cheeks raising as you giggle.

"Here, noona. You can sit in my seat," Guk says and it rubs Yoongi the wrong way almost immediately.

"She can have my seat, you're a guest," he says quickly.

"Oh no, it's fine. Noon-"

"Y/N, come." Yoongi's voice is strict and you roll your eyes at his commanding demeanor.

Setting down the book on the lip of the table, you take his seat. He stands behind you, handing the burnt out cigar and ashtray to Maya.

The smell might make you feel sickly.

"Jeongguk always wins," Hoseok notifies you and you hum curiously.

"We'll see," you reply as you begin to stack Yoongi's poker chips. He can smell your shampoo, violets and vanilla--it smells amazing.

"You know how to play?" He whispers softly in your ear, you shiver at his warm breath, smelling the alcohol on his pallet.

It reminds you of your first night together and you press your thighs into one another at the memory.

"Oh, I know how to play," you reply.

He places his hand on your shoulder as Maya begins to deal.

"Don't spend all of my money, we play with real bucks here," Yoongi says, his thumb grazing over the softness of your skin.

You feel yourself relax as his skin grazes yours. It feels comfortable, it feels kind of right.

Lifting your cards, your thumb skims over the tops and Yoongi holds his breath waiting for what you're going to do.

A diamond ace and a ten of diamonds sits in your hand. Yoongi presses down on your shoulder, almost as if he's proud of you.

"Raise," you mumble as Yoongi slides his thumb over the column of your neck.

You can see all the other billionaires staring at you and you calmly grab three poker chips before throwing them into the middle of the table.

"She's got a good poker face," Hoseok quips as he lifts his glass of brandy.

You feel your heart pick up speed as Yoongi slides his free hand over your other shoulder.

"Good girl." He whispers softly in your ear and your eyes flutter shut at his praise.

What the fuck is going on?

This Yoongi, the one behind you feels so different than the man who you moved in with just a week or so ago.

"Who are you and what have you done with Yoongi?" you quip into his ear softly.

You watch as Maya begins to flip three cards, you snort gently as a king, a queen and a four, of the same suit appear.

"He's gone." Yoongi murmurs, earning widened eyes from you as you focus on your cards.

You watch as the others toss chips into the middle and you throw a few more as Yoongi sips his whisky.

Your stomach begins to coil as he presses his thumbs down into your shoulders with soothing circles. He's fucking massaging you.

You find your body relaxing into his chest and stomach.

Yoongi watches the way your thighs quiver as you cross your legs. He can see the back of your neck flushing and his tongue licks over his bottom lip slowly.

"So, Y/N," Joon says, elbowing Hoseok with a wink. You shy away from the CEO's touch and he feels like he's being rejected all in a quick second.

Yoongi sighs gently, his eyes flutter shut and he loosens his grip on you.

"Yoona tells me you got a date today," you clear your throat uncomfortably as the men look pointedly at you.

Yoongi's eyes widen at the new information. He pulls away from you, making up the excuse in his mind to grab another grab of whisky.

He can feel the rage beginning to burn through him, as if someone has lit the end of a stick of dynamite. His eyes flutter shut and he steadies himself on the lip of the bar.

How fucking dare someone try to ask you out. How dare they?

"Oh well, Jooheon is really kind," he hears how soft your tone is and he can't help the way his hand shakes as he picks up the whisky bottle.

Why does the prospect of you dating drive him almost to the brink of insanity?

"You told him no, right?" he finds himself asking, he stares at his reflection through the mirrored wall. His face is pink with anger, the veins in his neck protruding as he grips tightly onto his glass.

You can't see him, but you can hear how livid he is.

"Well, I-" before you can even reply, he's charging across the room.

His hand grips at your arm and without a second thought he's tugging you to the library door.

You swallow thickly as he kicks the door open with his foot in a moment of blind rage.

"Yoongi!" you complain as he pulls you into the game room next door.

He slams the door shut behind him, his back presses into the cherry wood. Narrowing his eyes at you, he sneers.

"You told him no, right?! You do remember the contract, correct? Or, are your childish feminine hormones making you blind?" he barks out.

Your face begins to set into a scowl as you continue to stare at him. Why not be a brat? It's something you're quite good at when you're upset with him.

"Well if I can't get cock from you, then I'll have to get it elsewhere," your statement drops like a bomb and in a second he's pushing you up against the wall.

"Don't you fucking dare get snarky with me, like that. No cocks are going in this tight little cunt, do you understand me?" he seethes through his teeth.

Your eyes meet his, both sets are glaring and determined.

"Well then, guess you should have accepted my offer to fuck me," you quip.

He chuckles darkly, the sound shaking you to the core. And, for the first time he places his hand over your stomach.

"You couldn't handle this cock in your pregnant pussy, believe me. If I even see you with another man, I'll fuck him up."

"Why, jealous?" you ask as his thumb swipes over your stomach.

The feeling of his hand over your child can only compare to the sun. It feels wonderful.

"What do I have to be jealous of? I have it all. And that includes you. You're mine," he barks out and you hum unsurely, turning your face away from him as his forehead presses to yours.

"Just because I'm having your baby, that doesn't make me yours," you reply, your eyes focus on the pinball machines at the far end of the room.

"Yeah. It really does, little dove," you can hear the agitation in his voice, the annoyance he feels can match yours.

The tip of his nose grazes over your cheekbone as he presses his face closer.

The burning anger in him subsiding as he continues to drift his hand over your stomach.

"Just... don't." It's practically a plea falling from his lips.

Your eyes flutter shut at his now soft tone.

"I told him no," you whisper and you can feel his breath of relief as it rushes over your lips and neck.

"Then why are you pissing me off?" he asks gruffly.

"Because you made me mad," you retort as his hands grip at your sides.

He stays silent for a second before responding.

"I know. I'm getting way too good at that. I'm sorry," he whispers.

You swallow thickly, he's apologizing? He's really not himself today.

"Did you get a concussion?" you ask as he pulls away from you.

He raises an eyebrow as he keeps you at arms length. His fingers comb through his hair, a few odd strands falling back into his eyes.

"A concussion? What?" he replies, confused.

"You're acting weird," you comment as he fixes his blazer.

He begins to smirk as he leans back against the pool table. "I told you, old Yoongi is gone."

Humming unsurely, you intertwine your fingers.

"I'd really like it if you could not give me whiplash every few minutes. Makes it a lot bearable on my neck," you say as you fix your dress.

His eyes falter to your swollen breasts, his tongue licks over his lips while he does his best to calm his breathing.

"I'll be more thoughtful," he whispers and you bite your bottom lip, nodding carefully.

"We should get back," you tell him as you push off of the wall.

He nods gently and he grips at your wrist as you try to walk away from him. You turn to him as his eyes become softer. "No boyfriends, no dates."

You smirk as you look him over. "No boyfriends. No dates," you promise and he cups your cheek gently without even thinking.

"I like the fierce you. Makes my heart feel warm," he comments, leaving you in the game room on your own.

When he touches you, it makes your heart feel warm as well.

Next Chapter --->

Third Wheeling Taglist- @wickizer​​, @imluckybitches​​, @slothykreuger​​, @claireelise19​​, @ggukkieland​​, @rspbrryy​​, @iv-bts​​, @bambuzlee​​, @chanelbts​​, @mxxngxdss​​, @bluewhale52​​, @milesjeon11​​, @diamonddia-mond​​, @vinylphwoar, @yxnxxli​​, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn​​, @bts-7beauts​​, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace​​, @eclectically-esoteric​​, @nikkiordonez12​​, @kaitswrld​​, @skamlover200​​, @sevgilove98​​, @kooeuphoria​​, @jikooksgirl19​​, @hobbledehoy26​​, @singular-itae​​, @dchimminie​​, @lowlifeoeuvre​​, @sugaslittlekookies​​, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth​​, @softysuho​​, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire​​, @betysotelo18​​, @jeonmisha​​, @iwanttohitmyself​​, @ayyyocee​​, @neverthefirstchoice​​, @itsbangtanoclock​​, @little7bitchh​​, @veryuniquenamegoeshere​​, @deathkat657​​, @firstlovesuga-93​​, @namjoonia​​, @paperpurple​​, @muzikabijou​​, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites​​, @kleff03​​, @ruinsofangels​​, @brightwingr5​​, @leekanchol​​, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside​​, @melaninkpops​​, @y00ngisbabygirl​​, @ungodlyjoon​​, @prochnost513​​, @dunixxd​​, @athenakyle​​, @igotnotype​​, @chxmachxps​​, @tinymintyoongi​​, @vangameren-blog​​, @alpaca1612​​, @ohcarolinamin​​, @thegreatestsushi​​, @jooniebugg​​, @eltrain80​​, @btsmylife21​​, @deeepvibes​​, @httpminyg​​, @deliciouslydisturbed365​​​, @rkchmestizangmaldita​​​, @jimin-chu​​​, @pimpnameyannie​​, @preciouschimine​, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet​, @vanillamyg​, @aamxxrii​, @kooafraid​, @ladykadyrova​, @singjisu​, @yazanii​

Some people couldn’t be tagged! I’m sorry about that!

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics that were posted or completed during the month of April. We really hope you enjoy this list. Happy reading!

1) Like Juice | Explicit | 1639 words

Harry has to piss and he wants to do it in Louis' mouth. Neither really care. Louis even says it tastes like juice.

2) Love Is In The Meadow | Mature | 2028 words

Louis and Harry are having a picnic at they're favorite spot, out in the meadow. The sun is setting and it's the perfect time and place to prove how much they love each other.

3) He's Thinking of You (Like All Of Us Do) | Explicit | 2611 words

Louis Tomlinson is getting absolutely railed by a train (Harry Styles's cock) when his best mate tries to FaceTime him. They're close, Zayn's pretty much seen it all, so Louis doesn't think twice about answering.

4) One Sunday in Hell... | Explicit | 2216 words

Pure PWP based on that one drawing of a bunny boy getting destroyed by a demon..... happy easter!

5) Save A Horse | Explicit | 2738 words

Harry starts a silly campaign with friends and believes that no one will see. Louis is a newly graduated veterinarian desperate to get a job, desperate enough to not read anything beyond the title before calling the farmer.

Save a horse, ride a cowboy.

6) Baby Let Me Love You Goodbye | Teen & Up | 2912 words

Zayn comes back from a meeting with management and spends one last night (unbeknownst) with Louis.

7) Doctor Styles | Mature | 4218 words

In wich Louis gets treated by doctor Styles.

8) Love Shouldn’t Burn | Explicit | 8016 words

Louis was something dangerous — not in a way that would physically scar him but they knew — everyone knew he would end up leaving a mark on Harry.

9) Keep You Next To Me | Explicit | 9977 words

Harry has a secret thing for Louis' feet; Louis figures it out.

10) Let's Shack Up | Explicit | 11257 words

In which Louis wants to wake up in Harry’s arms forever. So he makes a list.

11) Lead Me To Paradise | Explicit | 14615 words

No one told Harry that a paramedic could be this pretty.

12) Blind Faith | Mature | 18498 words

“Harry?” Liam prompted.

“I’m blind,” Harry eventually said, trying his best to keep himself from crying.

Liam was silent for a few moments, before responding, “That’s not exactly news, H. You were blind when I met you a year and a half ago. Have you been in denial this whole time or something?”

“No, Liam,” Harry cut in. “This is different. I’m not legally blind like I used to say. It’s not just my night vision. The tunnel from my tunnel vision has closed. I’m fucking blind! I moved halfway around the world in the hope of finding my soulmate and it’s obviously not happening now. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not even a soulmate is going to want to put up with a blind alpha."

13) No I Love You's, No Goodnight's | Mature | 19947 words

Harry and Louis deal with the biggest obstacle of their marriage. They fight using all the fight that’s in them.

14) You Fit In My Poems (Like A Perfect Rhyme) | Explicit | 27598 words

Harry works in an old bookshop and Louis is the pretty stranger that ends up stranded there in the middle of a storm.

15) Not Everything is So Primitive (Oh, But I’m Giving In) | Explicit | 35809 words

The Mr. and Mrs. Smith au where Harry and Louis have been married for five (six) years and are very happy, thank you very much.

16) Take My Hand (My Whole Life Too) | Explicit | 43893 words

A Crazy Rich Asians AU with a royal twist where Harry is a prince, Louis is most definitely not, and there’s a royal wedding to attend.

17) 'Cause All Our Tomorrows Lead The Way | Explicit | 86562 words

So maybe Louis’ in over his head.

He had signed up for the Bachelor on a whim after his second bottle of wine and well, here he is. He’s just been announced as the twenty-sixth Bachelor and his ass is sweating. Like, literally sweating. He’s positive that if he was to turn around, the entirety of Bachelor Nation would get a nice peek of his ass sweat.

18) The Entertainment | Explicit | 94779 words

For Harry's upcoming album release, his team dreams of hiring him a PA to help assist with the burden that comes with a launch. Louis Tomlinson is a highly sought-after PA who's worked with many A-listers.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

[vvienne]

TODOBAKUDEKU FIC RECS

Curse of Baytown by surveycorpsjean

With the last of his hope, Shouto stumbles into a strange town. Be it destiny, or be it fate; his life will change forever.

two whole dicks for a half and half bitch by Ascend

Todoroki stumbles his way into a threesome, Midoriya cries into his pants, and Bakugou gets cockblocked no less than twice, but eventually, they all get laid.

Of Respite and Odyssey, Balm and Halcyon, Rapture and Godot, Lear and Pierrot by JayJEx

Aizawa and All Might’s Forever Squad of Problem Children

(8:47 AM) Midorito: @/everyone this is an official callout post for @/Discount IcyHot Patch, who is returning to musutafu tomorrow and DIDN’T EVEN TELL ANY OF US!!!!! ლ(ಠ益ಠ)ლ

Shouto groans in despair. Predictably, the group chat immediately explodes.

-or-

Todoroki returns to Musutafu after six years away and his tragic inability to keep up with all of the people in his life catches up to him in the worst, most irritating ways possible.

(Though he might at least get a boyfriend or two out of the matter. That’s a plus.)

if it was only a distraction (how come I can't stay away) by Voulezvous_79

He scrolls down and his heart stops - shit, shit, shit, no. Bad Izuku. You are over this. Completely, totally, definitely over any high school crushes that were going nowhere - because it’s the photo.

The one he surreptitiously had as his phone background for his entire first year in America. The one he cried over when he got on the plane. The one he jerked himself off to - once, okay!? It was one time, and he panic-deleted it after he came, and then cried about that, so he’s not proud, okay?

---

Or: Izuku's back in Japan, and he's definitely, totally, 100% coping with his friends' new relationship.

Biology for Assholes by fruiticle

Bakugou, an omega with Pseudo Alpha Syndrome, was content to live with his heatless, smoke-scented, absolutely-not-soft condition.

Really. He wouldn’t change a thing.

JUMP!!! by cxlmberry

Izuku grew up watching Superhero Legend, the iconic, generation-defining anime series featuring the invincible crimefighter All Might. Now, he is ready to become a professional manga author himself, to inspire thousands of people with his own series for decades to come – if only things were that simple.

Weekly Shounen Jump picked up Shouto’s series when he was only sixteen, and since then, he has become one of the most accomplished authors in the magazine. He’s a teenage prodigy. A genius. Jump’s main attraction. Sometimes the stress of it is too much.

Katsuki is talented – extremely, rudely so, and he knows it. An incredible artist and master storyteller, he’s out to become the one and only, undisputed King of Shounen Jump. Now, he only needs to get published.

A story of passions and careers, talent and hard work, second, third and fourth chances, as well as recovery and growth.

---

Alternatively, a budding manga artists AU.

Fire in the Mountains by EllaBesmirched (El_Bell)

“I’ll do it.”

Enji froze, fingers curling into a fist at his side, and didn’t turn around.

Shouto froze too, feeling his own eyes widen in shock at the words that had come out of his mouth, at the fact that he had actually stood up, followed his father out of the room, and dashed after him all just to say… he’d do it? He would do it? Him. Shouto Todoroki. He would--

Enji finally turned around and fixed Shouto with an expression so scathing, Shouto had to fight to keep his chin raised. “You’ll marry the Barbarian King.”

Shouto blinked. “Yes.”

How (Not) to Bribe a Human Sacrifice by maxisnotokay

"You want to kill me?" Katsuki asked, brows raised. He suddenly looked a little less like a king and more like a man, peering at Izuku through the moonlight. "You help me make this cure, and you kill me."

"Those are my conditions," Izuku said. He didn't break his gaze. "A deal's a deal, Kacchan, and I'm trying to be a hero."

+++

[fantasy au. midoriya literally falls from the sky and strikes up a deal with an unlikely candidate. things do not go as planned.]

Guildy Pleasures by Mysecretfanmoments

As the only son of a powerful politician, Todoroki Shouto's life is just one big boring cutscene—except when he logs on to Land of Heroes, where he plays as ShoutO, slaying foes and keeping his fellow guildmates alive. It's enough fun that it almost distracts him from the fact that he's falling for two of those guildmates. Almost. But he's got to stay in stealth mode, because Bakugou and Midoriya are mega-popular streamer duo ZeroDeku… and they're already dating each other.

Shouto has managed to keep his real identity a secret from them all this time, but when he's caught on live television watching one of their streams he ends up not only pulling aggro from the whole country, but catching the attention of ZeroDeku themselves. To his shock, they actually want to meet Shouto, the politician's son—and this time there's no avatar to hide behind.

the universe must have my back, you fell from the sky into my lap by lelex

The picture looks like it was taken in a cafe, Todoroki in a light blue sweater that even from a distance looks wildly soft, seated at a baby grand piano with his short hair effortlessly tousled. It’s one of those photos where it’s obvious Todoroki wasn’t expecting it to be taken—he’s in the middle of looking up at whoever is behind the camera, a smile small on his face but delight evident in the curve of his mouth.

He’s stupidly beautiful. Looking at him for too long makes Izuku kind of sweaty.

They both sit there staring at this one picture for almost three full minutes. In complete silence. Eventually, Kacchan sighs a little bit and tips his head backwards to rest on the couch. Staring up at the ceiling, he murmurs, “Well, shit.”

Izuku can’t stop the lightly hysterical laugh that explodes from his mouth in response.

“We’re fucked.”

*

Izuku, Katsuki, and Shouto fuck up a meet-cute, twice. But everyone wins in the end.

Cinderoki, the Sweaty Prince, and the Furious Fairy by Esselle

"I wish I could go to the royal ball for Prince Izuku," Shouto finally told the fairy.

Katsuki screwed up his face. "That's it?" Shouto nodded. "Why?"

"It seems fun."

"It's not going to be fun." Katsuki scowled. "It's going to be terrible. You have to have a better wish."

"I want that one," Shouto said.

--

Todoroki Shouto is cursed. Since he was five years old, he's been locked away from the rest of the world to keep his out of control magic a secret. He thought he could be content with his storybooks—until an invitation comes from the royal palace, inviting his family to attend a ball for Crown Prince Izuku.

Shouto wants to go; he wants to be normal; he wants to leave his cage. Most of all, he wants to know what it's like to live in a fairy tale, even if it's only for one night. Fortunately, he's about to meet one pissed off fairy named Katsuki, who's been watching Shouto his whole life and waiting to make his wish come true.

Powder Keg by Ajaxthegreat

Bakugou really, really, really didn’t want to be trapped in an elevator with Todoroki and a fireproof dildo.

Sensory Input by Esselle

"Captain," Shouto says, clearing his throat. "You put in a request?"

Midoriya stands in front of the window now, staring out at the endless expanse of stars. He turns when Shouto enters. Like Bakugou, he's dressed casually, in a simple grey shirt that stretches over his chest. His green eyes blink wide as though in surprise, before he smiles. It's sheepish and shy. In front of the window, the vastness of space flung out behind him, he's as stunning as a supernova.

"I did, right," he says. "The, um, the thermostat… seems to be, maybe—"

Bakugou cuts him off with a loud sigh. "Quit wastin' his time and tell him why he's really here."

--

Shouto is a remote crew member of a spaceship—his real body is stationed on a world far away, but his consciousness is housed in a maintenance bot on board the ship. When he manages to attract the attention of the ship's gorgeous captain and fiery first officer, it doesn't take long to discover that the bot's adjustable sensitivity levels have more enjoyable applications than repair work.

[falsegoodnight]

a new header??? it matches better <3 these are the fics I read or reread and enjoyed this month! like last time, i’m separating it into different sections: main list, wips, and non-1d. rereads will be included in the main list and marked with a star (*). 

*note: this list encompasses the fics i’ve read from the 1st to the 28th only

—

main list ~

✰ Don’t Wait Up by reliablyimperfect | NR | 1k

Without Harry’s warmth next to him, he felt the chill of the air creep over his skin. He tugged the blanket down from where Harry kept one draped over the back of the couch for him, grateful. With the blanket, he instantly felt warmer, but it backfired when his eyes began to droop again. Trying to keep his eyes open was impossible, and he was consciously aware of how long his blinks were becoming. They stay closed longer and longer until, eventually, they didn’t open again.

so soft and sweet and lovely! made my heart feel so warm <3 will return to this for some quick comfort in the future!

✰ my ugly mouth kept running by @hadestyles | E | 4k

Sometimes second chances are more important than the first.

rori’s lush writing + abo + exes to lovers = absolute perfection. my fic cameo gives it a bonus too :’) definitely one of my rori favs 

✰ i’ve loved you three summers now honey, i want them all by @softloubabie | M | 4k

The restaurant was small and bright, soft colors filled the walls and tables and fairy lights hung from everywhere. From what Harry had read, the food wasn’t overly expensive but it was still comparable to what you would get at one of the more expensive places. If Harry could he would take Louis to the biggest most expensive and extravagant restaurants to do what he planned to tonight, but this would do.

After being led to their table Harry nervously tapped his jacket pocket, sighing in relief when he felt the small box still there. Tonight was the night. He couldn’t wait till it was time to surprise Louis with all the gifts he got for him. Then finally the big surprise.

so cute and sweet! their kids were so adorable and the proposal so lovely!! they love each other so much <3

✰ love me in between the future and the past by navigator & quitter | E | 11k

Harry's scared of history repeating itself.

this honestly hurt to read but in such a raw and emotional way?? was mad at harry and then sad for him :( this writer duo’s fics never fail to amaze me!

✰ sunshine on my mind by @raspberryoatss | E | 13k

Louis visits Harry in Portland

this was so sweet and lovely! the perfect addition to this wonderful universe! pip’s characterizations and fluff never fails to make my heart feel warm <3

✰ rapture in the dark by @stylinsonsupporter | T | 13k

Harry Styles is a breakout musician who has shed his boyband label in favor of embracing his inner brooding rockstar. His PR team think that his rebrand is the perfect time for Harry to come out of the closet and have devised the perfect plan for doing so. Enter Louis Tomlinson, up and coming (and very openly homosexual) model whose public image as America's Sweetheart is the perfect foil for Harry's new edge. From a PR standpoint, it's a dream come true - a power couple that can slowly coax the public into accepting Harry's altered image. The only problem? They hate each other.

always love a good fake dating au and this is no exception! and model louis >> really enjoyed this!

✰ Maybe, Baby* by thoughtsickles | M | 16k | mpreg

It all feels too easy, too good to be true. It all feels like a scene from Louis' daydreams, the kind of life he'd always imagined he'd have when he was younger and bored at his momma's work, sneaking around the hallways of the maternity ward until the nurses let him in to hold the babies. He'd felt so important being allowed to touch them. He'd told them stories of the lives they were going to have, houses with nice wallpaper that wasn't peeling, yards filled with sunshine and flowers and grass that never went yellow. A hammock to nap in, cuddled up with his husband.

You can't stay here, he tells himself, but Baby doesn't want to listen.

have reread this one quite a bit of times now and it still makes me so happy <3 this Louis and Harry deserve the world <333

✰ Let Me Inside by reliablyimperfect | E | 18k

Louis is Harry’s boss, but Harry is the boss of Louis. 

loved this one! really enjoyed the balance between h&l and how they maintained their dynamic in subtle ways outside of the bedroom while also keeping it separate. very much enjoyed the jealousy as well <3

✰ a scintilla of predilection by @dehydratedpoolfics | T | 20k

There, in the far back of the room, next to the only available seat left, is none other than Harry Styles. Harry, who grew up next door to him, who knew all his secrets as a child and played FIFA with him on Saturday mornings after he would spend the night Friday evenings every week, whose curly hair would tickle his nose as they held each other during bitter cold nights that made his room glow a haunting blue.

love ex-childhood friends with misunderstandings!! louis was so cute and i loved his poetry <3 harry too was so stupid but so smitten and lovely :’) really enjoyed this!

✰ Keeping The Flame Alive by @crazyupsetter​ | E | 20k

Recording with One Direction never felt like this. There’s a couple reasons for that, Harry thinks. One is that they did most of their recording on the road, rushed and in busses and hotel rooms, never in one place long enough to really get an argument going. The other, larger and more important one, is that back then he had the sweetest, meanest little omega around to distract him from all of that frustration.

The first time around, when he’d been recording his debut solo album, it hit him pretty hard. He likes to think he’s better adjusted to it now, but frustration is warring under his skin nonetheless. He doesn’t want to be told what to do most of the time, and he especially doesn’t want to be told what to do when it comes to his music.

What he does want right now is that sweet, mean little omega right in front of him with his mouth on Harry’s cock. Unfortunately, the best he’s got is his own hand and a shared toilet. So. That’s really not going to work.

✰ like it’s a game* by @soldouthaz | E | 32k

There is little Harry hates more than truth or dare.

And Louis.

queen of enemies to lovers! it’s been a while since i’ve reread this but too absolutely no surprise, it’s just as amazing as always <3 sarah never misses!

✰ Too Young To Know by @2tiedships2 | M | 35k

Harry doesn’t present as an alpha… until he does.

really enjoyed this as per usual! exes to lovers is my jam and the added angst of Louis dating someone else at the beginning... love <3

✰ Some Things Take Root* by  navigator & quitter | E | 50k

Louis' ex doesn't get jealous of anyone besides Harry. Harry helps Louis use that to his advantage.

stumbled upon this randomly and decided to reread on a whim... ended up staying up to read it in one sitting! so good!

✰ Safe and Sound (You’ll Always Be) by @all-these-larrythings | E | 58k

When a failed case and a guilty conscience leaves Harry more than a little lost, his boss presents him with a new, less taxing assignment to help him cope. An escape from all the madness is just what Harry needs to get his life back on track. It's just too bad his new client has a grin like the devil, a pair of electric eyes that Harry simply can't get over, and no intention whatsoever of letting him catch a break.

i don’t know how i’ve never read this before??? it was absolutely amazing though! perfect blend of humor and fluff and tension and angst <3

✰ Mind Over Matter (You Under Me) by @youreyesonlarry | E | 74k

It’s dark outside when Harry finishes practice for the day. 

the slow burn in this fic killed me - which is to say, it was perfect! loved how they progressed from working together to being friends to something more and how much they genuinely cared for each other! the hockey was so fun too!

✰ Call Out My Name by frenchkiss | E | 102k

Apparently, it's bad PR to fall in love with the omega you hired to help you through your rut.

Harry Styles begs to differ.

ellen truly knocked it out of the park with this one!! had everything i could ever want: abo, famous/non-famous, fluff, humor, angst, drama, and more! i loved it from beginning to end!

wips ~

✰ ‘cause all our tomorrows lead the way by @loubellies | E | 64k | 7/11

So maybe Louis’ in over his head.

He had signed up for the Bachelor on a whim after his second bottle of wine and well, here he is. He’s just been announced as the twenty-sixth Bachelor and his ass is sweating. Like, literally sweating. He’s positive that if he was to turn around, the entirety of Bachelor Nation would get a nice peek of his ass sweat.

am thoroughly enjoying each chapter!! it’s been a wild ride so far and although things are currently calm, i am still on edge!! but i trust mar with my life <3

✰ Truth Behind Golden Eyes by @lwtisloved | E | 83k | 8/16 

Louis is a royal servant born with magic in a kingdom where his sole existence is outlawed with a war he has no idea he has a part in upon him. Harry is the prince on whom the burden of mending a broken kingdom falls upon and he might be willing to risk it all for a simple servant if only he admitted it to himself.

caught up last night! still really enjoying every chapter and can’t wait to see what happens next!! things are *happening* with h&l and answers are being given!! (love the jealousy too!)

non-1d ~

✰ Keep Me Close (I Need Your Faith) by @princelouisau | E | 23k

Somewhere along the way he had fallen in love and in doing so, had broken the one rule he knew he couldn’t come back from. As quickly as he realised, he decided that he must never dare speak it. He resigned himself to loving Draco in silence.

first foray into reading drarry... and, to no one’s surprise, i loved it! beautiful writing as always and beautiful atmosphere! it’s really not a shock that i fell for these characters and their story when danielle is behind it <3 it had me entranced from beginning to end!!

finally, i myself actually posted a fic this month:

my fics ~

✰ yesterday came suddenly by me | E | 49k | mpreg 

Harry the deadliest member of the NYC assassins’ guild, is forced to face a seemingly impossible task in hopes of finally leaving the underground behind for good, but when ghosts from the past come back to haunt him, escaping the darkness becomes that much harder.

If you read any of these beautiful works of art, remember to leave kudos and comment to show your appreciation!

*if i made any errors, please let me know :)

enjoy!

[marlasomething]

Jonmartin Week 2022 Day 6: Crazy Notions

Hello there!

As said in previous one-shots of this week, I cannot see a "challenge" and let it go so...Jonmartin week 2022 here we are! The idea is "forcing myself" to write piece of under 1K in different universes, let's see how it goes...and today it didn't go (sorry, wish @jonmartinweek don't mind me not holding myself accountable).

This was written for the prompt of day 6: Lost & Found/Found Family and it is set in my general Time-Travel Fix-It fic, but can be read without context (and, if you DO WANT CONTEXT...here it is the whole AU-verse.

Also: I will try to end all one-shots with the line of the finale "One way or another. Together". Only half this time...sorry.

As usual, do please forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes,

Marla

Allons-y!

AO3 edition!

Whole week Masterlist!

There were many things Jon would have never thought could be included in the sentence “Jonathan Sims is…”

Eldritch (half) monster was absolutely one of them; but with a good argumentation, he believed he could have been convinced that was going to be his fate, sooner or later.

Father? That was one he had been certainly would never be after his name (and the proper verb in between, of course).

And yet, here he was.

Here they were.

Married man had also been one term he had refused to even consider a possibility. Even in the most honeymooned moments of his scarce prior relationships he had never seen the so-long-term relationship ever being an unlikely chance in his future.

He smiled to the pair at the other side of the window, as Ellie told something that was making Martin having to bit his lips not to laugh out-loud in the small café nearby the British Museum (though for lazier people it would already be way too far to be considered properly close to the famous edification) where he was to meet them after a not very pleasant evening trying to make a deal with Manuela, so she wouldn’t make the whole city go dark (streets included).

Just wait until next week and you can do that on the Royal Family vacation.

He had tried to sound conciliating, but both knew that, if she refused, the consequences for her people would be…rather unpleasant.

It wasn’t perfect for him either, though. As much as he couldn’t care less about whatever the future of the Royal Family held, he knew there would be innocent people just working for them in their retirement.

However, if he wanted to keep other factions from causing a major mayhem; sacrifices had to be made.

At least, these involved less people blown up that some of Gertrude’s had had.

Cruel; another word he would have never thought could be applied to him.

But not anymore for today; he thought, as he stared at his closest (though not only) family from the street right before entering the local.

Martin and him had definitively not been ready to take care of an infant when they had adopted Ellie, almost six years ago already, but…what else could have they done, when a baby not-so-accidentally marked by The Eye due to her biological parents’ doing had decided she liked them as her real parents?

And it wasn’t as if they hadn’t had more help than they could have ever dreamed of.

Part of an actual family. A small, broken family; but still good.

He opened the door, having to fight with the door for a minute (instead of healing before time, his patron could have allowed him a major strength than the one his tiny body was bound to have).

He saw his husband (fuck, he was; he really was his husband) muttering something to their little girl’s ear, she giggling afterwards.

He reminisced about a time in which Martin would have run to help him the moment he had started trying to force the door; even though he would have treated him afterwards as the most useless bothersome individual in the whole Creation.

He couldn’t be gladder of how things had changed since then.

He got to where his two spectators were sitting and took another chair, ruffling Ellie’s hair and giving a quick kiss to Martin, for the pure dread and horror of a woman behind him, who had just had her very own son come out to her and was doing her worst best to assimilate the news (after properly scolding the young man, of course).

The Archivist saw her and drank in all the little gesture had triggered in her (he could feed in more things beyond The Fear’s proper apparitions, he had learnt); with a coy smile only Martin noticed, giving him a half wink.

Being a monster sometimes had its perks.

As he sat, he complained about the door situation.

“Thanks for not helping, my love. I almost lost against a door.”

“Oh, come on! We both now that evil door was defeated before time, you are too bull-headed for it to go any other way. Also, perhaps previous-Jon would have lied defeated, but you are not like that anymore” he was right, he reckoned.

As much as he was still thin, he was now just constitutional thin, instead of someone-please-give-this-man-a-bloody-plate-of-beans thin, as he had been when they had first met (and worsen over time).

Taking care of yourself; what a concept.

“Were you really tinnier before, papa?”

“Ok, this is now bullying.”

“You don’t allow me to look into your past!”

In good sense; he thought, he didn’t want his daughter to see the things he had gone through…especially the scorned world he had helped creating…

He felt a hand over his.

Martin had learnt to recognise when he started spiralling.

“One day, when you are older” he said.

“I am technically older every day…” she pouted in a way that reminded him quite a lot…to, well, himself.

Nurture winning nature once again.

“You are a bad influence” Martin said, almost reading his thoughts. “So…the Manuela business…done?”

“Yeah, Melanie’s idea might have started as a joke, but, it has worked perfectly fine…”

“You’ll be telling her you had to make some changes, right?!” both men stared at Ellie, who was smirking as she shipped from her hot chocolate. “What? I’ve known Aunt Melanie my whole life! And that is already six years, you two really like each other and also really like to pretend you hate each other…grown-up stuff, I guess. Like when Sasha and Tim use the broomstick room at the Institute…” even Jon’s ears went notoriously red.

“No, not at all like that. Again, once you are old old I will tell you…better, your dad will” Martin gave him a squint look, but shrugged.

Yeah, it will be better for everyone if Martin did The Talk.

Good Lord, was he really planning of having to see himself in that situation?

Had this really all started with him complaining about the unprofessionalism of his predecessor?

“Gotta pee and the other thing!”

“Wash your hands well!” both men almost yelled as the not-so-tiny-already figure headed to the bathroom as if there was a price.

As they were left alone, they silently decided to pretend they hadn’t been together for quite a while (that, with the very fortunate events in their lives, should count as the triple of time), and just be on a very regular early date, soaking at each other eyes, exchanging small silly anecdotes and finally asking each other if they could get closer, almost holding each other.

The rest of world totally gone.

As Ellie came back, showing her hands to be perfectly humid to prove the point of her personal hygiene to be in complete check, Jon felt the smile in his face grow.

There was no other place he would rather be.

He stared as his phone, a text from Daisy shining on the screen, reminding him of the celebration Basira-should-not-know-nothing-about, directly answered with a sassy reply by Tim.

Found, that one maybe surprised him even more than father.

Once, he had been lost, far before the Institute.

Now, he was found and, as he began his conversation again with his partner and kid; he knew that, in any reality they existed, he would always eventually be found.

One way or another.

[lathalea]

Frerin and the Terror from the Deep Mines

I wrote this story as a big thank you for @naryaflame who requested Frerin, fluff, Erebor and a Dwarf-woman OC. If you've read my fic "Springtime at the Lonely Mountain", this story happens in the same AU, quite a few years before the events of the main fic. I hope you'll like it! :)

Relationships: Frerin & Dwarf Female OC

Rating: G

Warnings: none

Tiny Khuzdul Dictionary: Amad - mother Adad - father Sigin’adad - grandfather Sigin’amad - grandmother Irak’adad - uncle Durh'atam - troll-breath Fundanud - tiny elf

* * *

There were three things Frerin absolutely hated: porridge, turnips, and girls. Well, most of them, at least. Baby Dís was an exception. Besides, at this point, she was more of a wailing bundle of anger with chubby hands and feet than anything else.

Anyway, this day was the worst day of Frerin’s life. It all started with breakfast. Porridge, yuck. And what was worse, Amad made sure he ate it whole. Double yuck. Then, while he snuck into the kitchens to snatch some butter cookies, he overheard the Cook discussing the menu for today’s dinner. Turnip stew! Yu-u-u-ck! And if that wasn’t enough, it turned out he wouldn’t go for a pony ride with Adad because it was snowing too much. Stupid weather.

Frerin threw his pillow across the room. It landed on his desk, making a few scrolls fall to the ground. His tutor told him to read a chapter from “Hammers, Chasms and Dwarven Steel. The Fate of Khazad-dûm”. Boooring. The thick tome waited for him on his desk, next to the pillow, mocking him. At least he had it a bit better than Thorin who was supposed to read “The History of the Decline and Fall of the First Elven Empire, volume one”. A whole book! And about elves, no less!

That was it. Frerin wasn’t going to spend a whole day in his room, reading about some very old and very boring kingdoms. Why read about some faraway mines when he could explore the mines of Erebor on his own? It was time for an adventure!

He left his room and snuck out of the royal wing using a secret corridor Thorin showed him once. He reached the oldest part of the mines and managed to get inside without anyone noticing. It wasn’t the first time he did this, and certainly not the last time. No one worked in the Old Mines anymore; the miners he asked about the reason behind it would stare at him for a few moments and then say something about depleted deposits and not wanting to dig too deep. Then they would offer to show him the New Mines instead. Once, he was even shown the place where the Arkenstone was found.

Today, Frerin decided, was a good day to explore that mysterious, half-collapsed tunnel that seemed to lead down towards the deepest parts of the Mountain. He always wanted to know whether it was true what some miners said, that there was an underground lake, as huge as the whole Mirkwood Forest. Others said they saw a red river of lava flowing in the darkness. Whatever the truth was, Frerin wanted to see it for himself.

He lit up his mining lamp, a gift from his sign’adad Thrór, and went into the tunnel. It was easy, at first, and he knew the way quite well. He walked and walked, and then he took a few turns, jumped over a heap of rubble or two… and then he realized he didn’t recognize this part of the Old Mines at all. Darn it! He kicked a stray pebble, sending it into darkness, the clacking disappearing in a distance. He should have turned left, not right, at the last crossing… or was it the one before it? He sighed. The shadows cast by the light of his lamp danced on the green-black walls of the abandoned tunnel. Silence surrounded him. Silence and darkness. Frerin took a closer look at the shadows. Was it his imagination or were they formed like tentacles of a great water monster, crawling towards him? He shook his head. Great water monsters existed only in books! He recalled a drawing he once saw. The monster had twelve tentacles and a maw filled with sharp teeth. He gulped, seeing the shadow tentacles on the wall creeping a bit closer towards him. They were not real tentacles! These were just shadows! Lifting the lamp over his head, he grinned, seeing the shadows disappear. He was an explorer, and he would explore this new part of the mines anyway! It wasn’t like he was afraid of the dark! Not at all! He wasn’t a baby! He was almost quarter battle-age!

He looked around and took a step ahead.

“Are you lost?” a voice echoed somewhere ahead. Frerin froze. No, this was not the voice of a monster. “Show yourself!” he exclaimed bravely. Whatever lurked in the shadows, he’d show them he wasn’t afraid! He heard pebbles clacking against each other, and then a few slow steps ahead. Something very small and very dirty appeared in front of his eyes.

“Hello,” the dirty little creature said, its face and clothes covered with coal dust.

“Hello,” Frerin replied. “Who are you?”

“I’m Dagrún, daughter of Gudrún. And you?” the creature squeaked. “You’re a girl!” his eyes widened in surprise. “Of course I’m a girl!” she rested her fists on her hips. “Who do you think I was? A troll?”

“You’re too short for a troll!” Frerin protested. “And you’re too rude for a dwarf! You still haven’t told me your name!” Dagrún, daughter of Gudrún, stomped her little foot, raising a cloud of stone dust.

“I’m Frerin, son of Thráin,” he folded his arms on his chest, just like his irak’adad Fundin sometimes did. “And you’re as dirty as a war boar!” “Maybe I am, but at least I’m not a liar!” the girl narrowed her eyes. “You’re not prince Frerin! I saw him once from far away, and he wears a brown and golden tunic, and he has a small crown, and he rides a chestnut pony! You are not him!” “My pony is in the stable! And that crown is too big and keeps falling over my eyes!” Frerin gritted his teeth. What did that scrap of a girl know about being a prince!

That scrap of a girl tilted her head and narrowed her eyes, “Whatever. I still don’t believe you! A prince would do some princely stuff now and not walk around the mines with a mess of a hair!” she huffed. “Go away now, I’m busy.” “You go away, I’m much more busy!” he protested, raising his voice. His hair wasn’t a mess! He simply refused to braid it in the morning, and that girl had no right to scold him. He was a prince!

“Yeah? And what are you so busy with?!” she squeaked even louder than before, taking a step towards him. “I’m searching for the Skarr’s treasure room!” Frerin puffed up his chest. Skarr, the Terror from the Deep Mines of Erebor, was the monster he knew everything about. Amad, Adad and Sigin’amad Urtha would tell him tales of this legendary creature many heard of but no one lived to tell the tale. The miners would speak of the signs Skarr left in the mines and of the way he shook the ground, making some tunnels collapse if he was angry with the Dwarves. He was supposed to have big horns, sharp claws, and skin as hard as stone. They said that Skarr could travel through rock and become invisible, and that he would kidnap the pebbles who wouldn’t wash their hands before dinner, but Frerin wasn’t afraid. One of the legends said that somewhere deep under the Mountain, there was a chamber containing the biggest treasure in the whole Middle Earth, guarded by the monster, and Frerin intended to find that place. Maybe if he found it, he’d become famous and wouldn’t have to read those boring history books anymore? The miner who had found the Arkenstone was granted great riches by the king as a reward, and so he didn’t need to work any longer! Frerin wouldn’t mind not having to study any longer.

He looked triumphantly at the annoying little girl in front of him… and saw her throwing her head back in laughter. “Skarr’s treasure room? Everyone knows it’s a fairy tale for pebbles!” she giggled, her laughter echoing in the tunnel.

“It is not!” Frerin frowned and took a step towards her. “It is too!”

“It is not!” “It is too!”

“It is not!”

“It is too, you Durh'atam!” the girl, Dagrún, or whatever her name was, yelled. Frerin growled. She was calling him names! Where did such a small girl like her learn a swear word like this one?

“You are a Durh'atam yourself!” “No-o. I smell nice!”

“But you look like a mine rat!” he pointed at her dirty… everything.

“I don’t! Besides, it’s not my fault! I was searching for a hidden passage to...” suddenly, she covered her mouth with her hand.

This was getting interesting. “A hidden passage to where?” Frerin demanded.

“It’s a secret, and I won’t tell you!” the girl shook her head vigorously, making some of the grey stone dust fall from her hair. In the faint light of his lamp, Frerin noticed several copper-colored strands.

“Then I won’t show you my treasure map!” he said. Irak’adad Gróin, one of the best negotiators in Erebor, would have been proud of him. “What treasure map…?” there was a hint of curiosity in her voice. The girl’s eyes widened. They were as blue as the Lake. And big. But she was an annoying little creature anyway. Besides, she added, “You’re making it all up! You’re not a prince and there is no map!”

“Yeah? Then how do you explain this?” With a big grin, Frerin took out a folded piece of parchment from his pocket. Now she will feel embarrassed, and she will blush like all the other girls, and be amazed by his great finding.

She looked at him and blinked. Then she looked at the parchment in his hand, and blinked again “Let me see!” In a blink of an eye, she grabbed his map, tore it out from his hand, and unfolded it.

“Hey, be careful! It’s very old! I found it in my Sigin’adad’s library!” Frerin started.

“Alright, alright, give me more light, I want to see it all!” she stuck out her tongue from her mouth, clearly trying to decipher the drawings and runes. Frerin groaned. She was supposed to be impressed and not annoyed! But perhaps not everything was lost. Perhaps she will be amazed when she sees…

“Ye... Olde... Trea...sure… Map. Pro… per… ty... of Skarr,” she read slowly. Clearly, putting runes together was not her forte. Frerin smirked as she raised her head to look at him. “Seriously? A map belonging to Skarr? And leading to his treasure? Doesn’t he know where it is? Is he a bit forgetful, like my Great Granny?” Frerin fumed, allowing anger to take better of him. Which was good, especially since he didn’t really know how to reply to this vexing girl, but he didn’t intend to inform her of it. “Skarr isn't forgetful! He is a scary monster and eats little girls like you for breakfast!”

“I’m too fast for him!” she protested, stomping her foot again. “Besides, he eats only naughty pebbles, and I’m a nice young lady! Everyone says so!” “Nice young ladies wear nice dresses and smile!” “That’s what boring young ladies do! I’m an ex… expl… explorer!” Dagrún announced with pride in her squeaky voice. “You aren't! I’m an explorer, and I’ve been here first! It’s my tunnel!” he replied. “If you are an explorer, then tell me what is at the end of this tunnel,” the copper-haired girl narrowed her eyes and pointed into the darkness ahead of him. The darkness where those shadowy tentacles came from. Frerin gulped. “There’s…” he furrowed his brow, trying to think of something. The last thing he wanted was for the girl to realize that he was lost and had no clue what was waiting for them in that darkness at the end of the tunnel. “First you tell me about that secret passage!” Dagrún stared at him for a few moments in a very annoying way, and finally said, “And then you tell me about the tunnel?” He nodded in response. The girl looked around and lowered her voice to a whisper, “So, the secret passage should be somewhere here. And it should lead to the deep forges.” “The deep forges? But we’re not allowed there before reaching half battle-age!” Frerin exclaimed. He remembered his father strictly forbidding him to visit that place. Too dangerous, Adad said. But Thorin, who had already started his apprenticeship as a blacksmith, was there a few times already and he seemed fascinated by the place. The gigantic furnaces, the machinery, the shining new steel objects - Frerin wanted to see it all, too! “Well, if you’re a chicken,” the girl grimaced, “I’ll go to the deep forges alone!” “I’m not a chicken, you… you fundanud!” It was supposed to be an insult, no one liked to be compared to an elf, even a small one, but the girl... she just laughed. “I’m too fat for an elf! And they don’t have sideburns,” she flashed her surprisingly white teeth at him. Frerin groaned, “I’m not even sure you have sideburns, you’re so dirty!” “You can insult me as much as you want, but I know you’re afraid to go to the deep forges with me!”

Frerin swallowed. Searching for that secret passage probably meant going into the scary darkness ahead. And he wasn’t sure he wanted to disobey Adad. But he would never admit it to this little girl who stared at him intently. Somehow, he wanted to show her how brave he was. Even if she was too annoying for her own good. “I’d go there even now, but you don’t know where the secret passage is, fundanud!” “I will know soon enough! I just have to find the right tunnel! Look at the map, Durh'atam! See that red dot? And those walkways?” she pointed at the parchment. “It has to be somewhere nearby,” Frerin admitted reluctantly, focusing all of his attention. Why hadn't he noticed that red dot before?

“That’s why I asked you about the tunnel!” she rolled her eyes. “See here, if there’s a big statue at the end, we’re in the wrong place. But if there’s a crossing…” “Let’s go and check!” He took the parchment from Dagrún’s fingers and stuffed it back into his pocket. “Let’s go!” she agreed with a happy squeal. “You are not going anywhere,” a sonorous voice sounded in the tunnel.

The girl gasped and hid behind Frerin. He lifted his gaze and saw Drengi, one of the members of his Adad’s personal guard. Drat! He was in trouble. “H-hello, Drengi, what are you doing here?” Frerin smiled faintly.

“I’d like to ask you the same question, your highness. Your parents have been searching for you for hours!” the large guardsman replied, furrowing his bushy eyebrows. “Your highness? So… you weren’t lying, were you, Durh'atam?” Dagrún pulled at Frerin’s tunic. “I wasn’t, fundanud,” he shook his head. “And who might you be?” the guardsman focused his attention on the girl who hid back behind Frerin

“I’m Dagrún, daughter of Gudrún,” she mumbled. “And Frerin was helping me find nice rocks for a school project!” “And I’m Drengi, son of Dygvi, at your service,” he made a small bow, making her giggle. “And do your parents know you are here, Dagrún, daughter of Gudrún?” She shook her head and lowered it shyly. If Frerin stood a bit further away, he wouldn’t have noticed the devilish sparks in her eyes, nor the wink she gave him.

“I asked Frerin to come here with me… and then we got lost… Will you please take us home now, Master Drengi?”

And, of course, Drengi did as she asked. Frerin was speechless. He couldn’t believe that a pesky little thing like her could turn into the nicest little girl in the world so quickly. But then again, it looked like she came up with just the right excuse. Drengi didn’t scold him too much, speaking something along the lines of “think first, be chivalrous later”. That fundanud was pesky, yes, but perhaps she was a tiny bit clever, too.

Dagrún was returned to her parents first and as she said her goodbyes to Frerin, the annoying little girl giggled, showed him her tongue, and then signed in Iglishmêk when the grownups weren’t looking, “Tomorrow. Be at the entrance to the Old Mines. Same time. Take the map with you, Durh'atam.”

Maybe this day wasn’t that bad after all… and maybe she wasn’t that bad either. For an average girl. Although he had to correct himself. Dagrún, that annoying, vexing, and irritating fundanud, wasn't an average girl. She was the true Terror from the Deep Mines and Frerin, son of Thráin, was sure that even Skarr would run away from as far as he could. When it came to Frerin, tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

* * *

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