#I’ll start prisoner’s throne tomorrow

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

finished Stolen Heir and idk why people were saying it’s boring, I’m guessing it’s because it doesn’t follow Jude and Cardan?? but honestly I liked getting to know Suren and Oak as adults, the story was good, the pacing was nice, loved the characters!! also I felt this book was so much more mature than the original Cruel Prince series, like there was some stuff in there that was genuinely horrifying 😭

[colettebronte]

Day 16: Roleplay 6: The Queen and the General: Punishment Prologue

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Bridgerton Masterlist

Lord Bridgerton's List: A Series for Kinktober Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Pairing: Modern!Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: Your 16th evening with your client. Day 16 for Kinktober. The prompt is Punishment.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: 18+ Contains nothing really kinky, but I’ll keep the rating. There’s some drama and angst but it’s all set-up for tomorrow night. Minors DNI. I will eventually get this up on AO3 so please do not repost my work elsewhere.

Author’s Note: Sooooo, the Exposition Fairy came to visit my google docs. In the interest of NOT putting out a 3k plus fic, I decided to split it up and make tonight the prologue to tomorrow’s “Main Event” as it were. Angst and drama used to be my writing wheelhouse, so I hope you enjoy this. I promise you tomorrow night will go pretty hard so I hope it makes up for the lack of anything sexy in this one.

Tonight finds you in your informal reception room, absolutely livid. You have spent the past week trying to quell your anger, and you thought you had managed it. Until tonight, when he was brought before you after a week spent in solitude in the dungeon. 

Staring at him as he stands before you, nude, arms outstretched over his head, chained to the pillars on either side of the room, your anger reignites as the events from a week ago replay in your mind, as clear as if it had just happened.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It’s early afternoon and you are in the throne room holding court, listening to your advisors as they make proposals. Antonius is among them, occasionally coming to you with something to eat or drink if you have gone too long without. You’ve come to enjoy his attention so you allow him the impertinence of approaching you in public.

At the moment the trouble begins, he is sitting at your side, you running your fingers over his collar, visible under his robe, twining the fingers of your free hand, with one of his. Suddenly a pair of guards rush in.

“My Queen, a thousand apologies but it seems one of the prisoners has escaped!”

The other advisors begin to shout. Antonius goes deadly still beside you. You raise a hand and the shouting ceases. Standing, you go to the guards, Antonius on your heels. You look between the two men.

“Which prisoner?”

One of the guards straightens up and staring straight ahead in respect says, “The queen who was recently defeated, Your Highness.”

Your advisors murmur behind you as you scowl. “Do you know when and how it happened?”

The guards look between each other before one says, “We cannot be certain of the time, My Queen. We know she was there when we brought her breakfast but she was missing just now when we did our afternoon checks.” You step back from them, puzzled as the other guard continues their report.

“It is our belief, My Queen, that she did not escape on her own. The dungeons are highly secured. The only way she could have gotten out is if someone inside the palace helped her.” You frown and notice Antonius clenching his fists nervously at his sides.

And in that instant, you know. Antonius, your War Prize, the man whom you had started to care for, had betrayed you in favor of his supposed former queen. So many questions swirl in your head, so many emotions, but you push them down. You would not show your hand just yet.

Turning, you spare him a small glance, his face giving away nothing. You sit back down on your throne, all eyes silently watching, awaiting your next move, You look to the two guards.

“I place no fault with you. If this was indeed an inside job, I shall root out the traitor and deal with them accordingly. I trust no other prisoners have escaped?”

The guards look relieved at your words.“None, Your Highness,” one says.

You inspect one of your gold-painted fingernails. “Good. Double the guard down there to keep it that way.” Eyes still focused on your nails, you call out, “All of you are dismissed for the rest of the day. I expect you all to have strategies to recommend to me at our morning meeting!”

Your advisors murmur their goodbyes as they swiftly depart, all except Antonius, who remains in the center of the room. He holds himself stiffly, posture straight, hands clasped behind his back. He knows you know. Good.

Leaving the throne you come to stand before him. His gaze remains straight ahead, suddenly so formal. You stare up at him, a part of you wanting to brush the curtain of dark hair falling into his eyes aside, another part of you wanting to slap him. You try to summon your fury, but all you can muster is hurt and sadness at his betrayal. You know there is but one question to start with.

“Why?”

He glances down at you briefly, no emotion showing, before returning to stare behind you. “She is my queen.”

You step back from him, as if physically punched. “So all this time, you were pretending to be loyal to me?” You hate that you can hear the hurt in your voice.

He clenches his jaw, still refusing to look at you. “Yes.”

You wait for him to elaborate, but he does not. He just continues to stare straight ahead, as if you are no longer worth his time. But you are a queen and you still have questions.

“So you helped her escape. You knew I would know. Tell me, what do you expect to happen next?”

He finally glances down at you. For a moment there is genuine regret in his eyes before his face shutters. “I expect that you’ll have me executed for treason. Or at the very least that I shall spend the rest of my days in the dungeon.”

Neither of those options appeal to you, but he’s right, what choice has he left you? And because you are weak, at least at the moment, you have one last thing to ask. “Was any of it real to you, or was it all a deception?”

He swallows, closing his eyes. “No, none of it was real. I feel nothing for you.”

First, there is an unpleasant cracking feeling in your chest traveling all the way down to the pit of your stomach. And then, there it is at last, the anger you wanted so badly to feel. Turning from him, you yell out for your guards.

He opens his eyes but remains still. A small cadre of guards rush in and you point to Antonius. “Our traitor is here,” you snarl and they seize him. Two of them take his arms. Another pulls out shackles, a forth guard produces a set of leg irons. All the while he stands still, head held up high and proud.

Before they can secure him with the chains you step in front of him and undo his robe. You reach for his collar and he finally looks down at you. You reach behind him and undo the gold around his neck and shoulders, glancing down to watch the collar and harness fall to the stone floor with a satisfying clatter. He stares down at them for a moment before bringing his eyes up to you. He mouths, I’m sorry. 

Narrowing your eyes, you step back and let the guards do their job. They make quick work of removing his robe and then securing him in chains. You return to your throne as they lead him from the room to bring him to the dungeon.

And then you’re left alone in the throne room. You go to where his golden collar and harness lay in the middle of the floor and let yourself cry.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

And now, you’ve had a week to ruminate on all that occurred between you both. A week to think about what he did. Now it’s time to render your final judgment.

The chains holding him rattle as he raises his head to look at you. There is no pride shining in his eyes, just a sad sort of resignation, as he waits.

Was it to be death or a lifetime in prison? 

Glancing down, you tap black-painted fingernails against the pair of solid gold-handled floggers in your lap. Across your hip, on the end of a chain, hangs a key to a golden cock cage.

Perhaps his punishment was to be something else altogether.

2023 Writer's Commentary

[jimblejamblewritings]

not a soldat | part 19.

Summary: Y/N L/N is not a superhero. No serums, no agencies. Just a civilian from a long line of family that’s served in the military. Y/N’s a history buff and bit of a spy in her own special way. This somehow lands her in trouble she never saw coming and straight into the hands of Falcon, Captain America, and Black Widow… if she doesn’t get caught in the unbreakable grasp of the Winter Soldier first.

Warning for the Series: violence, angst, slow burn

Pairing: Bucky x black!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

“My Queen, we’ve gotten the attackers at the border… they’re Americans mainly and a few others,” Okoye said to Ramonda.

After T’Challa and Shuri were dusted, Wakanda asked for Ramonda to step up and lead. No one dared challenge, even after she almost begged. But she pushed through her own grief to lead her people.

“Take them to Sergeant Barnes for questioning.”

“The White Wolf is still on his mission, Your Highness.”

~~

Bucky threw the smugglers into the back of the giant armored van and got back into the passenger’s seat. W’Kabi started up the van and they drove back to Wakanda. After checking that the prisoners were all locked up, Bucky headed back with W’Kabi to the palace to report to Okoye and Queen Ramonda.

“I’ll get to the attackers on Friday. They’re probably working for someone else.”

“Thank you, James,” Ramona said. “Will you be okay tomorrow?”

The three native Wakandans looked at him. Bucky swallowed and shifted in his spot, it would be the anniversary of the dusting. Five years and it was well known that the former Winter Soldier never took it too well. The only thing he wanted to do was drink himself into forgetfulness when the day came around and getting drunk was the one thing he couldn’t do. He usually went to the outskirts of town and returned early in the morning to do his job, acting like nothing occurred the night before.

“I will be, I think I’m going to stay at home actually.”

“That seems like a good idea, we’ll leave you to it.”

Bucky nodded and proceeded to walk out of the throne room before Okoye stopped him. “W’Kabi and I are having a simple dinner tomorrow. Would you like to join us?”

“I don’t… maybe I should. Okay, that sounds nice, thank you.”

The apartment was too empty when he returned. Bucky knew it was unhealthy to stay but he couldn’t bring himself to move apartments. All of your stuff he kept in the master bedroom and he moved into the smaller guest room. Bucky washed off and sunk into the small bed.

He looked over at the clock. 4 a.m. The sheets were wracked with sweat from his nightmare. He sat up and looked around the dark room. Grabbing his phone, Bucky opened to his messages and searched for a text he hadn’t played since getting on a quinjet to Wakanda.

“Bucky, I want you to know that you’ve become an amazing person. Do you hear me, James? I care about you, okay. I care about you so much, James Bar—”

The tears rolled down his face and Bucky clutched his phone in his right hand. The only reason he wasn’t throwing it was because it held your last voice message. He got up slowly, everything felt numb. After getting out the shower and changing the sheets, Bucky let his eyes wander to the door he’s kept closed for five years.

He approached it carefully and slowly as if there was a feral tiger behind the door. The dust that was gathered flew up before resettling as Bucky entered the room. His fingers dusted across every surface, stopping at a picture frame. Sam had taken it— you and Bucky, asleep on the couch. His dog tags, that you had stopped constantly tucking in, caught a flash on the camera.

Bucky set down the picture and kept looking around. It was all your stuff or things he had bought you yet it felt so foreign somehow. Your phone laid dead on the nightstand along with your family’s tags. Aside from occasional calls and visits to Steve and Natasha, Bucky didn’t really see the rest of the team. However your family, what was left, he made sure to always call. Cookouts were way more somber and he knew it when Ella sat next to him two years ago and started asking about you and him in a casual, almost friendly way.

Your mom and dad were both still alive. The third cookout when Bucky showed up again, the entire family knew what was up even if he didn’t. Bucky was in deep. And he knew it when at the fourth cookout, your mom and dad gave Bucky their rings. It was a symbolic gesture since he’d never be able to give you one but Bucky wore them like he used to wear his tags, always and tucked under his shirt.

Finally his eyes landed on your journal that he had set on the bed. Bucky sat down on the bed and picked it up gingerly. The same way you never looked at Bucky’s personal notebooks, he never looked at yours. But just this once, he opened the pages. The book almost flew from his hands when the first page showed your drawing of the Infinity Stones. The reason they were in this damn mess. But Bucky persisted and kept thumbing through, reading the pages just to look at your handwriting. His phone rang and he was brought out of his trance, taking your notebook with him to go answer it.

“Steve… Do you know what day it is? If you’re fucking playing with me I swear… okay, I’ll be there soon.”

~~

“Alright. We’ve got the how, now we just have to figure out the when and where. We have limited particles to retrieve the stones. This has to be perfect,” Steve said.

Tony paced back and forth. The team was pulling up a hologram to try and place the stones when Bucky walked in. He noticed them before they saw him.

“2012. You’re looking for three of them in 2012,” he said, causing the team to jump and look at him.

He walked over and opened your journal to a page where you traced timelines. Everyone looked and followed your handwriting.

“She knew,” Tony said as he started copying down the timeline onto the large screen. “The minute Thanos landed, she knew what could happen.”

“Yeah, and wrote it all down in case she got dusted,” Bucky said, tense. “What are we going to do about the Soul Stone?”

“What about it? She said it’s on Vormir, 2014.”

Bucky flipped back to the earlier pages with the descriptions. “To get the stone, you have to kill for the stone.”

“What?”

Tony grabbed the notebook and turned it towards him. If it wasn’t a life or death mission, Bucky could’ve wrung his throat for handling your notebook so harshly.

“Not just anyone. It’s a sacrifice of someone you care about.”

“I’ll do it,” a woman who Bucky had never seen before said.

Nat reached for her arm. “Yelena.”

“It’s fine, Nat. I’ve finally made peace with myself. Let’s do this one last thing for the good of everyone… Natasha and I will go to Vormir,” Yelena said with determination.

Bucky was quickly taught by Tony how to run the machine. His metal arm, especially a vibranium one, was too noticeable and valuable to risk him being seen in the past if they couldn’t get out smoothly. Bucky sat at the controls as everyone came out, suited up.

“Alright, everyone meet back in a minute.” Steve adjusted his time travel suit. “You find the stones and come back safe. Encounter any problems, don’t have them. Don’t stop fighting till you’re dead. Get killed, walk it off.”

“Hell of a speech, Stevie. See you guys soon,” Bucky said as he started up the machine.

“It was nice meeting all of you,” Yelena said. “Give him hell for me.”

~~

Everyone stood around the lab as Tony, Rocket, and Bruce finished setting the stones in the new glove.

“Alright, glove’s finished,” Rocket said. “Now the question is, who’s going to snap their fingers?”

Thor jumped up, only to be stopped by basically everybody. He was still hurting, it was understandable why he would want to do it.

“Just wait,” Steve said. “We should at least discuss it.”

“Look. Sitting here and standing about isn’t going to bring everybody back. I’m the strongest Avenger, okay? So let me,” Thor started.

“I’m telling you, you’re in no condition,” Tony said.

“Do you know what is coursing through my veins?”

“Cheese Whiz?” Rhodey retorted.

“Lightning. We need to do it… do something good, something right, do…”

“It’s not that simple, buddy. That glove holds enough energy to light up a continent,” Tony said.

“I’ll do it,” Bruce said. “I’ve spent months in the gamma lab. I’m the closest here to Thanos’ composition and I should be able to withstand it.”

“You sure, Bruce?” Natasha asked.

“You saw what those stones did to Thanos. They almost killed him. It’s up to me.”

Everyone looked at each other. Bruce was right.

“Alright,” Tony said. “Remember, bring back everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago. Don’t touch the now.”

“Got it.”

They all suited up to protect themselves from the potential blast of the stones. If it went wrong, there was a possibility that nothing would happen or that they would all die… and they were hoping that if failure occurred, it would be the former problem not the latter. The glove stretched around Bruce’s hand. He suddenly kneeled under the power of the stones. Thor yelled for him to take it off but Bruce assured everyone that he was fine. The glove smoked until Bruce snapped. Nothing happened.  But they weren’t concerned about that. Bruce, whose arm was charred and smoking, was the main focus. He was groaning as he lied on the floor.

“Don’t move him,” Tony said as Steve approached.

Tony blasted something from the Iron Man suit to ease the pain.

“Did it work?” Bruce asked.

“We’re not sure, are you okay?” Thor asked as he knelt next to his friend.

They slowly sat Bruce up and assessed the damage. Not too bad once the smoke had settled, just a wicked radiation burn that could’ve looked worse if it wasn’t for the fact Bruce was right. The gamma from Hulk made it look more like a burn from fire. Scott stared out the window when they all heard it. Birds. They all smiled, it actually worked. Bucky’s phone started ringing.

“I missed you, James.”

“(Y/N), darlin’, I—”

The team stopped and looked at him. With shaky hands, he put the phone on speaker so they could all hear you but no one interrupted or spoke over him.

“(Y/N), I’m at the compound but I’ll come get you soon. Alright, printesa? I’ll be right there. I promise you, I’ll be right there. I swear.”

“Breathe, Bucky. Honey, breathe before you pass out please. I’ll be waiting here at the apartment. Have guys put Steve on ice like I wrote?”

“Steve?”

“Um, hi (Y/N). I’m right here,” Steve spoke up.

“Steve? Steven Grant Rogers, why are you not getting iced right now! There’s bound to be radiation left from the glove, what are—”

“(Y/N). I didn’t use the glove, Bruce did. Well, Hulk did.”

“Bruce?! What the hell is wrong with all of you? Did you read my notebook at all?”

They could hear your pacing around the apartment— small and confined to the length of the charger cord. Bruce stuck out a hand and Bucky gently placed his phone in Bruce’s palm as if the phone was the only thing proving you were alive and he wasn’t going to risk dropping it.

“Yeah we got the timeline notes. You saved us a lot of trouble.”

“Did you only read the timeline pages?”

“And the stone notes, the Soul Stone would—”

“Did you even flip to the back?! I said Steve should snap.”

“Hulk was the best for the gamma. We didn’t even let Thor—”

“Yeah, yeah. Strongest Avenger whatever… why did you spend so much time in a gamma lab Bruce? You were all trying to recreate the super soldier serum. One that Steve was blasted with radiation to create and he survived it perfectly… does no one read Erskine’s notes!”

“How could we they were all water stained or hidden, we thought it was just the serum and a heating container.”

“Yeah, a heating container of radiation! Jesus, Steve would’ve been just fine… are you okay, Bruce?”

“A little hurt but I’m fine.”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be yelling, it’s over now anyway, doesn’t matter…”

The team heard gunshots go off and then a small scream from you.

“(Y/N)!”

“Who the hell are you?” They heard you ask.

“Ma’am, I need you to calm down. I’m Doctor Stephen Strange.”

Bruce quickly spoke up, “(Y/N), we know him. You can trust him.”

“I’m going to need you to hang up the phone now,” Strange said, giving you a look that it was something important.

“James?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“I’ll see you later okay?”

You said your byes to Bucky and hung up the phone. You set it down and turned all your attention to the weird man who portaled into your apartment.

“I think you and I know there are two ways out of this, we need to talk.”

~~

You were on pins and needles as you waited for Strange’s signal. Strange in the middle of battle was antsy, talking to you was a potential risk. Normally saying what happened meant that it wouldn’t happen but normally people didn’t know the plan. You did though, because you had spent so much time trying to figure it out like him and you got lucky that you got the outcome randomly on your third assessment because Strange had to look through the thousands of scenarios. So he talked with you and came up with a plan, one that wouldn’t get Tony killed. What Strange didn’t discuss with you is how they should be glad Hulk did the first snap.

Strange’s signal was hard to miss. It was a portal in your living room super small that let you see the scene unfolding in front of you. You picked up the phone and dialed the number on the comms, pressing the number 1 to make it a private line.

“Steve? Don’t let them do something stupid.”

“(Y—”

You cut him off knowing that his comm was still connected to the others.

“Don’t talk, I made my end private with you. Just hurry up and don’t let Tony be stupid. That’s all I can say. Roger that, Captain?”

The line cut out before Steve could switch his comm to a private line. He had no clue what had just happened. Steve looked over to Bucky who was fighting with a vengeance and then to everyone else. No one else had stopped like him, you did make the line private and he wasn’t sure why. Steve looked around again just as Thanos knocked Tony back. Thor hit him before Thanos could grab the gauntlet. He held the axe to Thanos’ neck and that sprung Steve and Bucky into action.

They ran behind Thanos to hold him. The axe almost cut him before Thanos threw his head back to knock Steve and Bucky off and then slammed forward into Thor to knock him off again. Thanos slipped the gauntlet on. Carol blasted beams at him while Sam tried to swoop in and grab the stones. Carol grappled with the gauntlet, keeping Thanos’ fingers spread far apart. Thanos grabbed the power stone from the gauntlet and used it in his other hand, to knock Sam away. Steve looked around and saw Tony who wasn’t looking at him but Strange, holding up one finger. Tony nodded and your words rang in Steve’s head. Don’t let Tony be stupid. And then he remembered you yelling at Bucky and Bruce over the phone. What the hell is wrong with you? I said Steve should snap.

Steve threw his shield at Tony and ran as fast as he could to the gauntlet, grabbing the stones when Thanos looked confused at Tony suddenly flying away from him. Everyone watched in horror as he held the hand with the gauntlet up.

“I told you, I am inevitable. This universe can’t avoid me.”

Thanos snapped and everyone braced themselves but when the snap rang out and they opened their eyes, it was Thanos’ side that was fading to dust. They all looked around in wonder until they heard Steve groaning. He dropped the stones and Bucky raced over to his friend who seemed relatively okay, minus half of his suit was burnt as well as his arm being scarred up. Steve plopped most of his weight onto Bucky as his friend helped him sit on a pile of rubble.

“I see why (Y/N) said I needed the ice. Shit, that hurt.”

“Crazy. You and printesa are both batshit crazy,” Bucky chuckled.

~~

Strange opened a portal for you to Tony’s cabin where he had moved most of the team since the compound was absolutely trashed. Apparently the cabin was still in New York just far from the city and had enough space to set up the time machine again so they could return the stones. You ran through the portal and jumped straight onto your boyfriend’s back. Bucky set you down and immediately turned around, his arms pulling you into the tightest hug imaginable.

“(Y/N),” he breathed out.

Bucky pulled back and you almost jumped with how quickly his lips were on you. He held your waist tightly. Despite the fact that the team was in Tony’s backyard, Bucky kissed you like there was no tomorrow. You gently pulled his bottom lip between your teeth causing him to bring you closer to him if possible. You two finally pulled away after what felt like an eternity when you needed a breath. Bucky rested his forehead against yours.

“Five years, printesa, five years and I’ve seen no one but you.”

You gasped and the team turned around, focusing on you two instead of the stones. Bucky was down on one knee. He took the necklace from around his neck and you could see rings dangling there, your mother’s ring easily recognizable. Bucky removed one of the rings from the necklace and held it up. He hadn’t even said anything yet but Bucky was already smiling as he watched your little head nods and the happy tears in the corner of your eyes.

“I don’t want to see anybody but you. You’re the end of the line for me, will you let me be yours? I don’t just care about you. I also love you, will you marry me?”

“Yes! Absolutely yes.”

Bucky stood up and slipped the ring on your finger. As sweet as the moment was, it soon turned silly as Sam and Steve began to argue over who would be the best man. You stepped aside to let Bruce start up the machine to return the stones. Bucky had you up against the entire time as you waited for the others. His arms snaked around your middle and you tapped on his hands.

You and Bucky weren’t the only shock of the day. Steve handed Sam his shield. He was done with the Avengers life, his arm and part of his face were still scarred. Both Stark Industries and Wakanda’s Science Department offered him technology for his arm since he lost a lot of feeling in it and couldn’t use it to fight, only perform basic tasks.

But Steve old-fashioned Rogers refused and said it was right that he just stepped down and handed it to someone else who deserved the mantle. Since you’ve known him, you knew Sam was the second embodiment of freedom and righteousness— arguably a little funnier than Steve. You were proud of him for becoming the new bearer of the iconic shield. Steve came over to you and Bucky while Sam talked with Sharon about how his new position would work. You gently punched Steve’s arm.

“Welcome to the HouseWives’ Club.”

He chuckled. “Are there membership perks?”

“Constant worrying about your Avengers partner, lots of nights with empty beds, and Tony’s money.”

“I plan on racking up a bill.”

“Hey, Cap!” Sam called out, bringing you all to his attention. “Does this mean I get the title of America’s ass too? Cause I’m just saying, look back at it!”

He turned around making you all bust out in laughter. The day was good. The world was saved, most of the team was choosing to stay in New York, damn near everyone was alive and uninjured, you just got engaged. You turned in Bucky’s arms and kissed him again, trying to make up for five years missed.

(end)...

[spidernerdsblog]

Match made in Hell : Prologue

A/N : Well this series will be hella angsty. Hope you like this. Feedbacks and suggestions are always welcome.

Pairing : Mob! Tom Holland x Reader

Summary : you always wanted a simple life but to be born as the daughter of a dangerous mobster turned out to be a curse for you. Everything changes when your father gets your lover killed and forcefully marries you off to another mobster as a part of a deal. You hate your father and your husband the only thing you seek is now revenge. Will you ever be able to fall in love again or this burning hatred inside you will consume you?

Warnings : 18+,mentions of blood, murder, death, misogyny, implied sexual theme.

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s the middle of the night as you sneak out from the backside of the dingy motel you and Ethan chose to hide for two days before catching a bus to Virginia. You were headed to the NY port bus terminus as you cautiously walked through the dimly lit alleyway. Both of you carrying a duffel bag in your hand as you briskly walk down to the main street.

"Ethan come on'' you whisper yell looking back to your boyfriend who was walking right behind you with whom you have planned to elope and start a new life away from your father's clutches who happens to be the mafia king of Northeast United States and wants to forcefully marry you off to another mobster of Europe to expand his territory and grab hold on their turf.

"Y/N are you sure your dad will not find us trying to flee right under his nose?" Ethan asks nervously. You smile softly as you put down your bag. Your hands reach up to his face cupping it gently.

"Don't you worry honey. I have a friend over there who has made all the necessary arrangements. In a few hours we will be in our paradise far from all of this. Just you and me, baby."

"But what if your dad already knows about us and sent his men to kill me."

"By the time daddy will come to know about us running away he will have nothing to do. He has no power in the southern states so we will be safe." You press your forehead on to his before stepping away from him and are about to turn around to resume walking but then the inevitable happens.

BANG! a gunshot was fired from a near distance.

You flinched at the deafening sound and felt something graze past you as some viscous liquid splattered on your face. You run your hand through your face to find blood stains and look at Ethan with horror in your eyes, a bullet has punched it's way right through his chest causing a hole in its wake as blood oozed out, his white shirt slowly turning scarlet red.

"Ethan!! oh my god!!" you gasped and rushed to him. Ethan felt dizzy, his vision going blurry as his body began to collapse. You quickly hold on to his weight slowly crouching down to kneel on the pavement placing his head on your lap.

"No! No! No, This can't happen!" You didn’t know what to do as you franctically pressed your hands together on the wound on his chest trying to stop the bleeding, tears running down your cheeks.

"Mija" your throat went dry at the deep voice. You turned your head to find your father standing all tall and powerful, face expressionless with his hands stuffed inside his pockets and right by his side is your step brother Julian. In no time his hunch men surrounded the area.

"Daddy he's dying do something please." you sobbed.

"You shouldn't have tried to run away Mija or else poor Ethan would have been alive to see tomorrow's daylight."

"C'mon now get up." He reached out his hand to you.

"What? No! Daddy please help him. He'll die. I'll do whatever you say, marry whoever you want but please save him." You begged him as fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

"It's too late for that Mija. You should have known well that after your engagement you are just a safe-keeping of the Holland's for us. Son-in-law is really upset with your behavior. He is the one who helped us track you down."

"Jules at least you try to understand." You turned to your step brother in despair.

"Enough sister we have to go, we don't want the whole NYPD chasing us for a petty collateral damage." he says sternly.

"You already are a big disgrace to the family. Thankfully my step brother-in-law is very generous to accept you even after all this."

"No I'm not going with you anywhere, either you shoot me like him or else I'll do it myself." You scrambled up back on your feet and with a swift move snatched the gun from the holster of one of his men standing near you. You pointed the gun to  your head holding onto the trigger.

"Y/N Martinez enough is enough! Drop the gun now!" your father commands agitated.

"No!" you shakily press the trigger a little more as tears pricked your eyes.

"You'll not do that Y/N." your father warns again.

"Oh hell I'll do if I don't get to live with the love of my life then you will not get what you want." you spat trembling in rage.

"Y/N no.. No" Ethan croaked in pain, the angry demeanor you had softened at his voice.

"Ethan, honey.. " you dropped to your feet kneeling beside his weak body.

"if you die then I die too." You sniffled. Ethan threaded his fingers to yours.

"No, Y/N you - you have to live. For me. Promise me."

"No" you whimper.

"Promise me Y/N, this-this is my last wish" He took large gulps of air while he spoke. You screwed your eyes shut feeling helpless at the given moment.

"I-I promise Ethan." Your voice quivered.

"I love you Y/N.." he smiled weakly as his voice trailed off as it was becoming difficult for him to breathe.

"I love you too baby." You sniffled. Ethan's eyes were droopy as he struggled to stay awake. He was barely breathing.

"No, no Ethan, stay with me please." you clutched onto his hand desperately. He swallowed his last breath of air before succumbing to eternal sleep in your arms.

"Ethan?" you shake his lifeless body. "Ethan wake up!!" all was in vain as Ethan's limp body lay on the pavement.

"Ethaaan!!!" you wail.

"Take care of the body. I need to handle my ever rebellious daughter." your father ordered.

"Okay boss." one of his capos obliged.

"Now c'mon and let's get you prepared for your husband." your father grabbed on to your arm.

"No,no,no" you try to grasp onto Ethan's lifeless body. Your father ripped you apart from his body forcing you to stand up on your feet.

"It's your last week with us anyway, spend some time with your mother, make some happy memories, she will miss her only daughter the most."

"Happy memories?! You took every ounce of happiness from my life, you are a monster! You all are! I hate you!" you screamed struggling hard to free yourself from your father's firm grip.

"One day you'll know everything your daddy did was for your own good. So stop fighting and do as you are told like a good girl" Your father and brother Julian dragged you to the car. You were a walking dead when you reached your home which seemed a prison to you now. Your mother came rushing to you.

"Oh sweetie you're safe. Thank god I was so worried." she wrapped her arms around you in a hug.

"Mom.. Ethan.. He's gone." You broke down in her arms.

"It's ok sweetie. Don't worry everything will be fine. You are my strong girl I know you will get through this" she cradled your face pecking your forehead trying to console you.

"Ask your daughter to stop acting like a brat and learn how to be a good wife to her future husband and tend to his needs. Don't want the Holland's point fingers at us saying we didn't raise our daughter right."

"Why did you do this Victor?"

"After so many years are you questioning your husband Rosette?"

"No, I'm questioning a father and how could he do this to his only daughter?"

"She brought it upon herself." your mother was about to say something but was cut off by your father.

"No! I don't want to hear anything more about this. Just do what I said." he says sternly.

******

"The Martínez's will arrive in a week, start making all the necessary arrangements."

"Once the deal is done you will be taking over our family business son are you ready to sit on this throne?" The senior Holland asks his eldest son Tom in the presence of his younger twin sons Harry and Sam and Tom’s future consigliere and best friend Harrison as he stood in the middle of the spacious conference room patting on the big leather chair placed right in the middle of the wooden round table from where he has been running this empire all these years commanding men to do all his dirty work and sealing fate of people who didn’t comply by his wishes.

"Always ready dad." Tom stood tall.

"I know you are, my son. This is the day I have been waiting for all my life."

"Okay now enjoy your last few days of freedom of a bachelor before you are a married man." he pats his shoulder proudly and was about to leave the room but turned to him again.

"One more thing you need to keep a tighter hold on your woman from now on Tom. Her carefree days are over, she needs to be made aware of her responsibilities including giving the family an heir."

"Yes dad."

As his father leaves with the twins Tom slumps down on one of the chairs with Harrison beside him. He lets out a long sigh taking out his phone.

The first thing he does is open your Instagram page and go through your pictures which has turned out to be a habit for him for the last three years. Harrison was sitting beside him as he saw your pictures too. Some were with your college friends, some you attending one of your dad's galas in the prettiest designer dresses and some bikini clad sunkissed aesthetic pictures of you on vacation on some exotic island. Tom thought you looked unearthly in every picture but his mood would go sour seeing the comments below of several guys objectifying your body. He felt like hunting them down and chopping off their fingers with which they typed such lewd comments.

Though he himself wasn’t a man of high morals either drinking, gambling, bringing in girls every night in spite of being engaged to you though each night he wished it was you on his bed, not some random hooker he picked up from the bar. He is well aware that you don’t like him and despise this whole marriage. But he has nothing to worry anymore now because in a few days you are going to be his for lifetime. And he is confident that he will win you over eventually.

"I see why you are hell bent to marry her, she's a siren." Harrison remarked snarkly, breaking Tom from his thoughts.

"Hopefully she sounds like one too" Tom chuckles.

"But you really want to spend the rest of your life with her? She doesn't seem to be the one to follow rules."

"She's always been a wild horse since childhood that is why I like her even more and trust me wild horses are more fun to tame Haz. I can assure you in no time she'll be roaming around like a puppy around me."

"And how do you know you'll be able to tame a headstrong girl like her?"

"That will not be an issue because once I make sure that my child is inside her she will have nothing to do." He smirks. "Motherly instincts, you know how that works. After all, she's a woman. How much ever she hates me she will never separate her child from his father."

"And once I will have her father removed from the picture and taken over their empire she will have nowhere to go."

"You know she'll hate you more than she already does after you kill her father."

"Her father is no less than a monster. I will be doing her a favor actually." Tom once again glances at a portrait picture of you.

"Princess your kingdom eagerly awaits your arrival." he mutters to himself with a smug grin on his face.

.................................................................................

Taglist in bio or just send an ask or dm I’ll add you

[speechlessxx]

Bring Him Light - x (King!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Chapter Summary: The truth finally comes out.

Warnings: brief mention of sex, mentions of death, really shitty writing tbh, dialogue driven. (NOTE: when concerning the flashbacks, he’s actually explaining to the reader what happened)

Word Count: 2.5k

Note: Feel free to send me any questions because I know this is a really crappy chapter. (of course, I’m not going to reveal the rest of the plot)

<- Last Part -=+=- Next Part ->

You could still taste the salt from the sea on your lips. The memories of what happened aboard that ship still fresh like a wound that you’d carry forever. You stared at your hands that were conjoined with your husband’s. The wedding bands glistened in the dimmed room.

“Will you believe me if I told you everything?” Steven asked. His thumb drew soothing circles on the back of your hand. His grip tight as if he were afraid you’d disappear again.

“Everyone’s lied to me.” You whispered. You looked towards Wanda’s body, still covered with the bloodstained tarp. “What would make you any different?”

“This is the truth,” he promised. “The complete truth.”

When Steven was young, his mother doted on him because he was a sickly child. He grew up to have her compassion, optimism, and idealism. He was sixteen when his father unexpectedly died, and he was hailed King of Brooken. He wanted to carry his mother’s ideals into a new age for Brooken, but he underestimated what it meant to have a crown on his head.

The sacrifices he’d have to make, the betrayals he’d have to face, the blood he’d have to spill. He’s told more lies that he could count – all in the name of protecting his reputation and his power. A cruel king is respected after all. The lies were like storm clouds that poured hard. He drowned in them and got lost in the darkness those clouds brought. The lies burdened him more than anyone would ever know.

You squeezed hand, breaking him away from his thoughts. “Steve?” Your tone was soft, coaxing him back into reality. He welcomed the calm you brought. It eased the storm inside of him. You were ready for the truth – perhaps, you’ve always been ready. “Unburden yourself, my love.”

“I don’t know where to start.” He said, honestly. It was true. There was so much to the story. He wasn’t quite sure where it began.

“Start with Margaret, perhaps?” You suggested.

“I was young,” he began. “Twenty-one years old. Five years on the throne. They told me I needed a wife.”

“They?”

“Pierce and the old council.” He answered. “Brock’s father had just died, so he took the vacant seat. At first, I thought having my cousin on the council would alleviate the tension. The lords on the council were nearly twice my age, if not more. They saw things differently than I did. They wanted different things. Sometimes I felt as if I were their puppet. I was young when I took the throne. Sixteen. I didn’t know what to expect, so I leaned on their counsel. I depended on them,” he scoffed, remembering his earlier years on the throne. “They told me I needed to continue the line succession. Thanos was beginning to make a name for himself by this time. He had lovers and spawned two daughters. His line was growing, and the Rogers’s wasn’t. So, I asked them to find me a match. Pierce brought in Lady Margaret of House Carter. I was smitten when I first laid eyes on her.”

Steven sat tall upon his throne. The room was empty. Brooken had a tradition that detailed that those in royal betrothals must meet for the first time in private. He was giddy with excitement. Lady Margaret’s portraits were presented to him a month ago. She was easily one of the most beautiful creatures he’d ever seen. Lord Pierce made the arrangements and they were to marry within a week. “House Carter is a respected house in the Old World,” Pierce advertised.

The doors opened wide and a young woman walked through. Her hair was dark as night. Her lips painted a bright red. She smiled at him and bowed. “Your grace,” she greeted. “I am humbled to make your acquaintance and, of course, honored to be your betrothed.”

“I didn’t know her, truly. I didn’t realize how manipulative she was from the beginning. She charmed and enchanted me to do her bidding. We were married for nearly a decade. No children. She didn’t want children. I didn’t want to lose her, so I agreed.

“She had many faces. A face she’d show the people that made them love her. A face she showed me that hypnotized me. And the face she’d show my allies, which were her foes. She fought with James incessantly – even tried to make me banish him. I refused. He was my oldest friend. I promised the moment I took the throne, my riches, my blessings were his to share. She was trying to isolate me. She banished my allies from court. James warned me she was a devil. I refused to listen. I thought her a gift from the gods themselves. Until I caught her poisoning my mother.”

“What?” You gasped.

Steven nodded. The haunting memory pained him still.

He woke up alone after a long night of making love to his queen. It was early in the morning; the sun had barely risen. Orange streaks painted the sky. He searched for Margaret, wanting to jest her for allowing him to wake up alone. He found her whispering to his sick, elderly mother who was bedridden due to a broke hip.

“You won’t get away with it. My son will find out,” his mother croaked.

“Not from you,” Margaret gave her a wicked smile as she slathered arsenic-riddled paint on his mother’s toast. The thick substance looked like jam, but Steve knew better. She force-fed the queen mother the poisoned bread.

“What are you doing!” Steve boomed into the room, pushing his wife aside as his mother choked. “Guards! Get a physician!”

“She died later that evening.” Steven shook his head. It was your turn to console him. You released one of your hands from his grip and rubbed his arm. He took a shaky breath. “I stabbed Margaret in the heart in front of Rumlow, Pierce, James, and Sam’s father. I didn’t know, yet, that her betrayals were much deeper than the murdering my mother.”

“Enter Sharon?” You asked.

“I was widowed for a year. Pierce brought her in. The younger cousin of Margaret.” He continued. “Married two days after her arrival in Brooken.” He chuckled humorlessly at his naivete. “I should’ve never marry a stranger.”

“We married in two weeks.” You noted. “We were practically strangers, too.”

Steven shook his head in disagreement. He didn’t feel that way. In the two weeks he grew to know you, he learned the innerworkings of your mind, your soul. He knew he was in love with you, truly, even before he wrapped the cloak around your shoulders during the wedding ceremony.

“We weren’t strangers.” He said. “Far from it. Sharon was distant. Defiant. We never consummated our marriage, not that anyone would know. She refused to sleep in my chambers, refused to be held, or anything, really. It felt as if I had married a ghost that everyone could see. I couldn’t touch her, but she still haunted these halls.”

“You beheaded her.” You said. Steven bit his lip as he nodded. “Pierce said you beheaded her out of spite.”

Steven cocked his head to the side, brows raising, as if he entertained the idea. “Well, she was spiteful.”

“The men in the prisons… They preferred her over you and you imprisoned them, correct?”

Steven sighed. He was disappointed that you were so quick to believe rumors and lies about him, but he blamed himself for not being completely honest from the start. “Sharon plotted a coup on behalf of the Mad King.”

“How can you be certain?” You asked.

“She admitted it when she was caught.”

Steven stared down at the blonde. Her eyes wide as he finished reading her encrypted letter. “You’re not subtle. You’re not discreet.” He spat at her, crumpling the paper and throwing it at her feet. “You work for the Mad King. You’re here to topple me. Rip the crown from my head and give it to him. The game’s over, Sharon. You’ve lost. Your followers all caught and imprisoned. I will get a confession and you will die for treason.”

She recomposed herself, rolling back her shoulders with confidence. “You think you can just kill off another queen? What will people think of you, Steven.”

“I am pulling the weeds from my kingdom.” He snapped. “You Carters are all the same. Traitors. Liars.”

“Margaret was good.” Sharon complimented. “She had you wrapped around her finger for a decade. If she hadn’t been caught killing your mother, then she would’ve convinced you to ally yourself with Thanos.” She turned her head to the side and gave him a smirk. “Then, she would’ve killed you along with your mother. Such a shame, she was caught.”

“You admit. You’re a traitor.”

“Of course, I admit it. But mind you, your grace, your enemies are all over Brooken. You cut me down today, someone else will cut you down tomorrow.”

“I beheaded her for treason.”

“You didn’t tell people that your queens were committed treason. You allowed rumors to spread about your cruelty to your wives.” You frowned.

“As I told you before, a cruel king is respected.” Steven muttered. “But I never wanted you to be afraid of me.”

“Isn’t it odd?” You asked. “Both queens chosen by Pierce were traitors.”

Steven nodded. “They pushed me to get married once more, but I told them, this time I’ll choose my bride.”

“Me.”

“It’s three years after the War between the North. Tony and I were close before. I fought alongside your father when York was invaded ages ago.”

“You fought over a disagreement over land.”

“More than land. He wanted James dead. James’s father killed your grandfather. Since James’s father had died long before, your father asked for my friend’s head. I refused. So, a war erupted.”

“You traded blows with my father on the battlefield.” You recalled. You remembered your mother’s cries and pleads with the gods, asking for them to protect your father’s life. “He returned to my mother bloodied. You cut through his armor. But you looked him in the eyes and called the war off.”

“No one won.”

“No one.” You agreed. “Three years later, you ask my father for a wife.”

“I needed a wife I could trust. Although we had our differences, I trust your father with my life. I know Tony’s blood. I know how you would’ve been raised to be loyal. You took after your father and your mother.” Steven explained. “I didn’t trust Pierce to find me a wife that could slit my throat in the night.”

“You trust me?” You asked.

“The moment I stared into your eyes and saw fear… I knew you knew the rumors. I knew you thought of me as cruel – our first encounter made that clear.” He smiled at you softly. His fingers lightly traced the scars of your wrist. He brought your wrist to his lips and pressed a light kiss onto the skin. “But, truthfully, my trust in you waned when I saw you with Brock and Pierce leaving the dungeon. I began to think you were conspiring with them.”

“I – I – I wasn’t.”

“I know that now.” He said. “I realized you were afraid of disappointing me because you didn’t … you weren’t –“

“Pregnant.” Your voice wavered, immediately brought back to the painful memory of losing your baby alone on the boat. “I should’ve told you I was, though. But I was afraid. I thought you were going to kill me. You struck me.”

“I’m terribly sorry.” Steven shook his head. No amount of apologizes could ever make up to the faded scar on your cheek.

“I was afraid for my life and the child’s. They manipulated me because of my fears. They prayed upon it and convinced me to trust them. And I did. In turn, I – I lost my best friend and my baby.”

Steve pulled you to him. Your head rested in the junction between his neck and shoulder as you cried softly into him. He rubbed your arm, comfortingly.

“They tried to turn you against me.” Steven whispered. “They tried to weaken me by trying to kill you on that boat. I thank the gods that you’re safe now.”

“Thank you for telling me the truth.” You muttered.

Steven nodded and kissed the top of your head. His arm around you tightened a bit. “You should sleep. Get some rest. You need it after what you’ve endured.”

You agreed. Steven untangled himself from you before he leaned down to press a kiss to the scar on your cheek and a kiss on your lips. He began to walk away when you felt panic begin to settle. Your hand shot out and grabbed onto his arm, preventing him from taking another step.

“Please stay.” You begged. “I… I don’t want to be alone.”

He gave you a soft smile and nodded. You scooted over the cot to make room for your husband. The positioning was a bit awkward considering his massive build, but you immediately felt safer once his arms wrapped around you once again.

»»————-　⚜　————-««

You woke up alone in Steven’s bedchamber. The sun had already set, the full moon up in the sky. The pain had subsided after nearly a day of rest. The truth settling in inside your mind.

At least now you knew everything.

The doors opened suddenly to reveal your husband. He smiled at you as you sat up on the bed. “You’re awake.”

“You left me alone.”

Steven’s smile faltered. He couldn’t register if there was sadness in your voice or not as he walked over. “I – I hadn’t meant to upset you.”

You shook your head. “I understand. You’re a king. Your duty is to the people, not to me.”

“I am your husband, first.” Steve argued. “My duty will always be to you, my love.” He took your hand in his and helped you off the bed. “Come. There’s something I must show you.”

He led you to the balcony doors, opening it and allowing the air rush into the room. You breathed it in. The mixed scents from the gardens below overtook your senses, washing out the pained sea salt smell that still haunted you.

Steven guided you out onto the terrace and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in front of him. You gasped as you looked up to the sky. Along with the bright moon and the stars were lanterns that floated into the air and painted the dark sky.

“For years, I stumbled alone in the darkness. Feigned love with false queens who sought to destroy me. And here you are. The true gift the gods bestowed upon me. I truly believe you were crafted to be my soulmate, (Y/N).” He murmured in your ear. “I wish I could take away the pain you’ve endured, but I cannot. I can only tell you whatever comes next, we will face it together as husband and wife.” Tears swelled in your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks as you stared up into the bright sky. “I love you, my light, my love.”

You smiled and turned to him, cupping his bearded cheeks in your hands. “I love you, Steve.”

[miss-choco-chips]

Drink and make merry, my friend (you'll be gone come morning)

Day four: historical- pirates // sci-fi- space

There are three pirates chilling in the dungeons. None seem overly concerned about the fact that they’ll be hanged come morning.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Bartholomew H. Allen. Bart for the friends. ‘The red nuisance’ for everyone else. Wasn’t the first time he’d been inside this very same prison cell; probably won’t be the last. The guards stationed in front of his door were the quickest on their feet, so maybe they’d have a minimum chance of catching the fucker should he escape again. Probably not, but the Arch Duke had been particularly displeased the last time he’d weaseled his way out of their prison, so they had to at least pretend to try.

He’d been unconcernedly chewing on dried meat for hours now. How did he manage to smuggle it into the cell, no one knows, but after he bit the first few hands that tried to take his treasure away, the general consensus was to let him be.

Similarly, anyone who held any notions of spending a fun afternoon with the only woman among the sea bandits was quick to be corrected, either by a broken hand or a kick that stole the air from their lungs like it was gold from a ship’s treasury.

Her name? Cassandra Sandsmark. She did not fuck around, and really, considering she would be dead by that time the next night, it was’t worth it to punish her for ‘prisoner misconduct’. That was why they left her be. Not because she scared their balls back into their bodies. The fact that she was Princess Diana’s wayward niece and, death row or not, the noble Lady would murder them all for even breathing in her direction, was a notable plus.

The last pirate, well… He’d chosen to spend his last night on earth doing push ups. It was probably better to leave him to his own devices.

Conner Kent. Whether or not he had any relation to Crown Prince Kal was anyone’s guess, but they did look startlingly similar; something the younger man had taken advantage of to avoid capture multiple times in the past.

To catch any of them wasn’t an easy task. The fact that they were all there thanks to the same man was beyond amazing.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

An auburn haired boy ran through busy port streets, his form almost a blur between passerbys. Jumping over crates, avoiding street vendors, sliding over banisters and landing at the very last step of any stair in his way, the youngster made a truly astounding escape.

Tough luck his opponent had accounted for that.

Just as he was rounding that last corner separating him from the port (and his freedom), a foot struck out. Quick thinking saved him from face planting on the disgustingly dirty streets, but his surprise and momentum cost him precious seconds of stumbling.

The swords pointing him from every direction when he straightened weren’t as threatening as the lone young man standing behind the National Guard, unarmed but from the cutting edge on his glare. Without breaking eye contact, the runner threw both hands up in surrender.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The guards barely even glanced up when the servant girl let herself in, softly pushing the trolley. They did, however, when the scent of food caught their attention.

“That for us, pretty lady?”

Blushing, the girl looked at both men from under her brown fringe.

“The… the prisoners…”

Elbowing each other, they smiled, sharks smelling blood in the water as they eyed the delicacies on display.

“It’d be a waste to let people who are gonna be fish food by this time tomorrow eat such an amazing feast.”

The girl hesitated again, her duty to feed the prisoners at war with the populace general unwillingness to disobey their military enforcers.

“Come on, pretty lady”, the other one edged on. “Who’s gonna tell the higher ups?”

Something flashed behind her beautiful blue eyes, and she nodded, gently pushing the trolley in their direction.

From within their cells, the three pirates watched in silence.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

If anyone were to ask, he’d been minding his own damn business when shit went down.

He had only wanted a beer. Really, life just wasn’t fair to wanted criminals.

It was just his luck that his crew chose this particular tavern to drink and make merry. Though, Kon supposes, it wasn’t their fault either. How would they know that the Lavender Throne pirates favored the same establishment?

He’d only been a member of the Renegades’ crew for about two months now, but he already knew how this fight would turn out. He was easily their best fighter, and the Lavenders were all about the same level of well trained; so here he was, alone in a circle of enemies, fist held high and feet doing their best not to trip over fallen crewmates.

Or maybe not so alone. A smaller back pressed against his, and he could see from the corner of his eye how the men trying to get his blind spot fell like flies. Not one to doubt his blessings, he doubled his efforts.

When things died down, Kon relaxed, marveling at the fact that just two of them were enough to deal with a full tavern of enemies. The bar maidens started to rise from under the tables they chose to hide behind, and Conner was about to turn around and thank his surprise saviour, when the feeling of cold metal against his neck stopped him in his tracks.

Uniformed men started bleeding into the room, dragging unconscious pirates away. When one approached him and his mysterious capturer, he almost felt the man behind him shaking his head.

“This one is high risk. I’ll take him myself.”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

“Are you sure? There’s plenty enough for all of us”, asked Dumb Guard Number one again, words almost unrecognizeable under his chewing.

The girl, sitting primly in the chair they oh so gentlemanly had offered for her to wait on until they finished their impromptu dinner, shook her head.

Dumb Guard Number two didn’t need to be told twice and snagged the last piece of bread.

“Is it just you two for the night?”, she asked, apropos of nothing.

The more sharing of the two nodded. “Yeah, until the morning shift guys come and take them away to the plaza for their sentence.”

She whistled softly.

“Seems kind of mean, having only you two to guard three of the most wanted pirates of the last few years.”

The second one smiled a bit. “Nah, we got dealt a nice hand. We get to eat and laze around, and as good as they are, they can’t weasel their way between those bars. No excitement here. The day guards are the unlucky ones here.”

“How so? Aren’t them, like, a lot more? Seems like it’d be easier, sharing the weight of it.”

“Yeah, but Lieutenant Drake will be with them, ‘s going to personally oversee the executions. Can’t exactly slack off with the favored son of Archduke Wayne breathing over your shoulder, now can you?”

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

“Cassandra!”

“Go! I’ll hold them off!”

The older woman, holding desperately to the other’s hand, made a sound of profound distress.

“But-!”

“Donna, just go! If they catch you- just how much do you think Diana is going to suffer?”

“It’s the same with you! We can run together, there’s space in the spare boat”

They were running out of time. She knew convincing her older sister figure to leave her behind was not going to end well or happen quickly, so the blonde pirate shot a look to vice captain Artemis. They both knew Donna was just too important to risk like this, her relationship to Diana recognizable enough to use her as leverage against their Princess. Cassandra, as beloved as she was by the women who took her in, had spent the better half of her childhood hiding her real identity and running amok where few would be able to point her out as Princess Diana’s protegeè.

Ignoring her mistress’s screams, Vice captain Artemis’s arms went around her waist, lifting her clear off her feet and dragging her away, her strength forcing Donna’s hand free of Cassandra’s arm.

Soon, Cassie stood alone in an empty ship, sword in hand as she watched the sun setting over the horizon, the distant figure of dozens of escape boats a mere shadow in the distance.

When the sound of boards and then feet hitting the deck reached her, her hand tightened on the sword’s hilt, but she didn’t turn to see.

“It was a bold move. Brave, though.”

The words made her startle, spoken so closely to her ear, the approaching presence absolutely unnoticed until that exact second.

Breathing in deeply, Cassandra spun on her feet, sword raised. Her enemy was already a few feet away, safe from her board attack. His cold stare clashed with her feral growl, an ice prince facing off against an amazon fighter.

No other soldier dared approach them, as the sound of their clashing swords echoed in the quiet of the night as thunder.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Just as a distant clock was about to point both arms to its highest point, both guards fell asleep. Literally fell, face planting in the dirty prison ground.

Sighing tiredly, the young serving girl rose to her feet. Walking towards Dumn Guard Numer 2 (stopping only barely on her way to nudge Dumb Guard Numer one to the side, so he wouldn’t drown in the puddle his face had landed on), she crouched down and took the keys from his belt.

When she stood again, all three pirates were on their feet near their doors, waiting.

“Who’s first this time?” asked the youngest, voice vibrating in his excitement, smile bright.

“Me, for sure”, crowed Conner, hands on his hips.

“What are you talking about? I made him fight for it. Drew blood, even.” Cassandra, proud smile and raise hand, threw back in challenge.

To all their surprises, the maiden went straight for Allen’s door.

“What? Me?”

“What the fuck?”

“Are you seriously telling us IMP is the one who gave you the most trouble this time?”

The girl shrugged, but a small smile could be spotted under her calm facade if one cared enough to look for it (which they all did).

“I had to chase him all through Star Port city. I was tired afterwards. The two of you made me fight, but it wasn’t nearly as exhausting.”

The boy jumped out of his cell as soon as the door was opened, fist raised in victory.

“Yessss! Free booze!”

“It’s a stupid bet”, the girl shrugged at the other two’s upset frowns. “None of you are an actual challenge, after all.”

“Oh, shut up, asshole. Get us out of here before those dumbasses wake up.”

Before long, all three pirates and the young castle maid were running through empty streets towards the port.

“The ship is ready for you to take. I made it look like you stole it from a very drunk, very unsuspecting crew of beginners.” As they all ran, she… he, took his hand to his head, snatching away the brown wig. Hair, black like a raven’s wings, fell over his icy blue eyes.

Cassandra, keeping pace with him, accepted the disguise. “Where to, after?”

“There’s instructions on your next mission already written down on the back of the map, on the captain’s cabin. I left the key to the cellar as a paperweight over it, so there’s no way you’ll miss it.”

Behind them, the other two boys crowed in delight. Bart even makes a small little jump, never slowing their pace.

“Is it fully stoked?”

Turning to look at the bigger man over his shoulder, the maid-turned-criminal rolled his eyes.

“Half. I do need you all lucid enough to do your chores. But whatever you find along your way that doesn’t slow your progress on the mission, you can loot for yourselves. There’s an empty treasury on the right side of the ship just for that.”

Another jump, this time from the other pirate. The two running ahead shared an exasperated, though fond, look.

They reached the promised ship before long. It sat there, beautifully tilting this way and that thanks to the gentle waves reaching shore.

They stopped there for a second, the three pirates facing their rescuer.

“Will you be alright? Won’t anyone suspect?”

He shook his head, hands demurely raising his dress a slight inch from the ground in a small courtesy.

“Caroline Hill has a perfectly solid cover, and there are lots of people who’ll vouch for her if she’s ever suspected for tonight. Also, the guards chosen for the night shift are known for slacking off in their duty. Falling asleep close enough to the cells for one of you to snatch the keys and free themselves won’t be too much of a stretch for anyone to imagine.”

They smiled back at him.

“Do try to catch some sleep before going back there as Lieutenant Drake. You’ll need your beauty rest to give a convincing ‘I left those criminals in your care and you LOST THEM?!’ show.”

“The laughable state of the kingdom’s military is perpetually infuriating to me. Don’t worry, I’ll be believable. And I can use this as an excuse to fire the most incompetent guards in the history of ever.”

“Do you ever do anything without at least two different reasons and multiple plans banking on it?”

“Why would I, that just sounds like a waste of my time. Now go, run off, before someone sees four people hanging by the port and gets curious enough to remember faces.”

“When will we see you again?”, asks Conner, hand catching his friend’s shoulder before the man in the dress can turn around and leave.

“This mission should last a month or so, and after you hid the objective in the safe place I designated for it for me to pick up later, you’ll need to scatter. I’ll catch you again soo after that, so in total… maybe two months? Three if any of you give me an actual challenge, but I’m not holding my breath for that one.”

“Bastard. See you soon.”

“Make sure to take us drinking next time, Tim. We barely see you now that you have to play good lawful boy with your dad.”

“Only if you idiots take good care of the ship. The Red Bird is a delicate lady and I’ll hang you myself if there’s even a scratch on her beautiful shell.”

“It’s almost as if you care more about a bunch of wood and metal than us.���

“Because I do. Now fuck off.”

[In which Tim is a privateer (Basically a pirate with papers. As the name suggests, privateers were private individuals commissioned by governments to carry out quasi-military activities; in this case, Tim does illegal things for the greater good. As a military agent, he’s hiring himself lol) and the other three are pirates working for and with him, because they like to help him do good things and they also get a chance at fighting people, drinking and looting treasure outside their missions. Tim catching and then freeing them is how they exchange information or he gives them his orders.]

[talas-starlight]

Scarred Spirit - Zuko x fem! reader (pt.3)

SUMMARY: this takes place around the end of book 1 - but uhhhh I deadass don’t know how to give a summary for this without giving anything away soooo enjoy!

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

WARNINGS: mentions of death and suicide. Scars. Swearing. Non- sexual nudity. Nightmares. Panic attack ish.  mention of torture.

KEY: italics = internal thoughts & *** = flashback

OTHER PARTS:  pt1   /   pt2 /  pt4   /   pt5   /   pt6

MASTERLIST: Here!

You’d been walking in the back streets of the capital with your face turned to the sun for the past two hours. The black mask shielding the bottom half of your face hid the sigh that left your lips as you finally approached the palace.

Fucking finally.

Even though you were a Fire bender, it didn’t make it any less annoying as the sun blistered down of the completely black outfit you were wearing. It covered every piece of your skin from your neck, down to your feet. Even your scarred fingertips were hidden from the world.

As you neared the gates, they immediately began to open, inviting you in with open arms. This made you one of the few people, apart from the royal family, that didn’t need to prove their identity to get in. All the guards knew who you were and what you did for the Fire Lord, promoting you from being a prisoner to one of the most well looked after people in the entire Nation. Technically, they were never instructed to provide you with immediate access. Yet, as rumours spread throughout the palaces’ echoing halls, their fear of you doing what you did to all those people when out on missions, seemed to override those basic routines.

Normally you’d scoff at how silly it all was, the fact that they feared a 16-year-old girl almost made you feel sorry for them. As guards of the Nation they should stand with pride and confidence. You suppose that’s what happens when even though they don’t see it, they have nothing to be prideful about considering who their current ruler is. Regardless, today you appreciated their diligence, storming through the gates, and making your way straight to the throne room. You didn’t even give anyone an initial glance. You were pissed. This had been the fourth mission in a row where you were sent to take out some random high position person from some other nation. All this travelling back and forth began to get on your nerves.

Maybe it was from the heightened stress of the most recent task. This one, in particular, set you off because of the minimal information you had to take them out. All you were provided with was that they were from the Water Tribe, and had been at sea in a fleet for multiple years, taking down Fire Nation units.

Gee thanks! Give me a few weeks, and I’ll track down this mysterious person you don’t even know the name of and be on my way! Hmmm, now my first plan of action will be to flip a gold piece to decide if I should swim to the Northern or the Southern tribe to gather intel! Just you wait Ozai. I’ll take that stupid, pathetic, floppy thing you call a beard and drag you into the fire in front of your throne you piece of-

Abruptly cutting off your internal rant, you walked past the guards who immediately opened the doors to the throne room as they saw you approaching; noticing the long braid down your back alit in your raged fire. Reaching the middle of the throne room you didn’t even bother to bow, throwing a Water Tribe necklace splattered in blood to the ground. “It’s done.”

The guard closest to you hastily picked it up and climbed the stairs to hand it to Ozai for an inspection. Eyeing the tribal necklace in the guards’ hand, he made no move to take it away from him physically. Ironic how he has slaughtered so many yet refuses to get real blood on his hands.

“Prove yourself.”

You instantly provided him with the report you memorised on how you conducted the mission with details on an weekly basis. This ensured you actually went through with the assassination- you suggested that you could bring back their head two years ago, but apparently that was too gruesome to be in the presence of the great Fire Lord. There were no pauses or stutters as you rehearsed it on your journey back to the capital.

“Present the details of the savage.”

You held back a sigh, this was always your least favourite part. “The person you sent out for went by the name of Hakoda. He was of the Southern Water Tribe and Chief to one of its smaller villages. During my time undercover in the tribe, I acquired knowledge that his wife was disposed of under the assumption that she was the last Waterbender of the Southern Water Tribe and had two children. It is also to my knowledge that his children are currently travelling with the Avatar. Through making connections with the villagers, I set out to sea in search for him and managed to gain access and trust upon the main ship when they were docked in an isolated part of the Earth Kingdom for supplies. I went under an alias of a homeless non-bending orphan from the Northern Water Tribe wanting revenge on the Fire Nation for slaughtering my parents. When it came time to dispose of him, I did so in the middle of the night after faking a nightmare, seeking him out as a father figure for comfort. I used his own weapon against him as he held me, speaking words of comfort, expressing that I was safe and how I was like a daughter to him. A daughter who would have been a great older sister to his children. During this moment of emotional weakness for him, I assassinated him before he could have even registered that I would have been an awful sister. Leaving before dawn, I made the scene look like a suicide with a letter expressing in detail how being away from his children was too much to bear.”

Ozai looked up from the necklace, satisfied with the briefing. “Hmmm, well-done y/n. Tell me, what do you know of his children?”

“Nothing of great importance other than knowledge of them travelling with the Avatar.”

“Very well, you may have a day’s rest and will be informed of your next task tomorrow evening. Your payment for your services is already in your quarters.”

You bowed knowing you were lucky he let it slide when you walked in. “Thank you, my Fire Lord.”

Exiting the throne room, you made your way to your living quarters, looking forward to the sensation of washed hair, clean clothes, and your bed.

When you finally made it back to your room, you let out a sigh of relief immediately ripping off your mask. As the years went by, nothing seemed to get easier, and nothing seemed to stop. You cherished the moments of silence, the brief period of time where the universe aligned in such a way that you were able to pretend this wasn’t your life. One mission after another, constantly lying to do what needed to be done, amid all the alias’ you made up, you wondered which one really demonstrated who you were as a person. The idea of having to settle with the Fire Lord’s personal assassin didn’t necessarily make you giddy with pride.

You made your way to the bathtub that awaited you in the adjoining room, peeling off the once breathable fabric, off your body as you went. The tub was already full as the servants went to prepare it when they heard the word of your return. You finally unravelled the braid holding your hair together, yet another symbol of the job you committed yourself to. On the first day of training, you were told that if you were caught, your affiliation with the Fire Nation should be buried with you.  

Your skin shuddered as you entered the chilled water, easing your mind that warm water would never satisfy in this Nation’s climate. You leant back with a small wince as your scarred back made contact with the tub. Growing up, it wasn’t uncommon for other assassins to have some form of physical scarring whether that be from training, a mission gone wrong, or punishment from their supervisor. In some unusual way, you were never insecure about it, only annoyed that you had to sleep in odd positions because of the sensitivity.

You began to drift, succumbing to the cool, soothing water around you. Between the stress of returning to the capital, and the stress that awaited you on your next task, you allowed yourself to let go. Free yourself of any thoughts. In your current state, you weren’t scarred. You weren’t trapped in what seemed like a never-ending cycle of duty. You weren’t anyone to anything.

As the moon began to shine through the windows into the bathroom, you woke up with a start, water splashing onto the tiles around you, your heart racing and sweat soaking the unsubmerged parts of your body. Running your hand through your hair, you fought the urge to let out an overwhelmed sob. Nightmares were a common occurrence for you, but this one settled under your skin like a scratch you would never be able to itch.

Air seemed to close in on your lungs, no matter how much you tried to calm yourself down, all you could focus on was the fact you couldn’t breathe. Hastily fumbling, and tripping as you got out of the tub, you forced yourself to reach for the first clean robe you could get your hands on. As your thoughts mixed into on jumbled heap, you desperately tried to get it together.

He believed you.

They all did, you knew it in the way that the guards struggled to hide back their expressions of discomfort as you described how you oh so easily manipulated a grown man, warrior, and chief, only to kill him.

It was a lie. All of it. Yet why did I dream of them finding out now?

You’ve never assassinated anyone since that general three years ago, and you most certainly never killed Hakoda. From the very moment you accepted the offer, you knew you’d never go through with the commissions. During the brief period when you trained and got back onto a healthy diet was when you mentally formulated how you would conduct each “killing”. It was simple, you’d carry out the mission as you normally would, but in the time you were supposed to spend working out how to dispose of them, you helped them create a new life for themselves. You didn’t bother trying to shield the truth from them, knew the Fire Lord wanted them dead. While it sent them into a panic, in the long run, it made everything a whole lot easier. They could never go by who they once were, and needed to move far, far, away from wherever they lived. The lives they once knew erased, cutting off all ties.

Idiot. Why did I have to make an exception now?

Instantly dismissing the question that wriggled its way into your head, you began to journey to the kitchens in desperate need for a distraction. You knew why you made the exception.

***

Three weeks ago, when you were on the ship with Hakoda, you did actually have a nightmare, prompting you to go out onto the deck to clear your mind. The air was crisp, eliciting goosebumps across your skin. Quickly letting out a breath of fire, you began to regulate your body temperature as you noticed Hakoda already looking out to the never-ending expanse of the ocean. As an experienced warrior, he heard you approach.

“Y/n? The moon has been out for a long time now, you should be asleep.”

Sighing, you stood next to him, joining him in looking out to the sea. “Nightmares.”

He nodded in understanding. “Do you want to talk about it?”

There was no fear in your voice as you recounted the altered memories of your torture, he already knew who you were, where you were from… what you did. All things considered; he took everything pretty well, barely holding it against you. To him, you were just a kid who was sucked into this life, making the best with what you had.

Finishing your poor recount of the nightmare, you turned to face him. “I have to go back soon. I’ve been pushing it by staying for an extra month. We need to make a plan for you to leave. You need to start a new life.”

He knew this conversation was coming ever since he managed to persuade you to help them out for a while. After all, he seemed to look straight past the wall you put up to know that you wanted Ozai’s reign to end. Despite respecting your boundaries, when you took off your mask in front everyone on board, the scar on your neck that travelled beneath your long sleeve shirt as it encompassed your hand, was enough to know that you suffered just like everyone else.

“Y/n, you know I can’t do that. My children, Sokka and Katara, they’re travelling with the Avatar right now, and I haven’t seen them since they were young. I can’t just leave and have you fake my death like that, Bato told me how much hope that knowing I’m alive brings to them! If I go and word gets out that you ‘assassinated’ me… it will crush them. Their close relationship with the worlds only hope is too much of a risk. I need them to be strong. The world needs them to be strong. I’m sorry y/n, but I can’t.”

You stared at him processing his words. Ultimately you knew he was right, but you couldn’t go back after such a long time just to say you failed. The Fire Lord would destroy you. “I understand where you are coming from. I do, but you can’t seriously expect me to go back with nothing! What do you expect me to do?! Oh, sorry Fire Brain I couldn’t kill him because something suddenly possessed me to feel bad about how his children might feel! Don’t worry, though, I didn’t care every other time I knew about other targets’ children! Unless you have some genius plan, I’m sorry, but Sokka and Katara are just going to have to suck it up. Let’s be realistic, yes, this MAY damage them and their duty to support the Avatar, but at least you can go back to them when this war is over!”

He ran his hand over his face, clearly trying to stay calm and collected. “I know, y/n. That’s why I’ve been up all night making a plan, but you’re not going to like it.”

You crossed your arms, scoffing at him. “The fact you’re suggesting something other than what I have ALREADY planned makes me not like it… but let’s hear it.”

He attempted to start with the parts of the plan he knew you’d agree on, which didn’t last long. “Well, we can incorporate some of your plans into it, that being we fake my death taking by tribal necklace back to the Fire Nation splattered in the animal’s blood. Yet everything else? We’re scrapping it.”

Biting on your tongue, you fought the urge to scream at how stupid this was sounding.

Relieved you didn’t bite back, he continued. “I’ll stay with the crew and then-“

That was enough for you to lose control. “Okay, I’m sorry did you just say you want to stay with the crew?! I am supposed to be taking out the LEADER OF THIS FLEET! If you stay with them and continue to attack vulnerable units, they will know, and they’ll have my head!”

“I know y/n! Which is why, when you’re gone, Batu will temporarily take over as captain until further notice. I, on the other hand, will only help plan the attacks stay in the background until it’s safe. Now, as for my kids, we’ll send them a letter letting them know I’m safe and hopefully a location so I can reunite with them.”

“But what if-“

“The letter gets intercepted? It’s just going to have to be a small risk.”

Taking a deep breath, he tried to bring the conversation to a less hostile level. “More often than not, there is no perfect plan. You should know that, by faking all of your assassinations since working for the Fire Lord. Which might I add, is the biggest risk you could possibly take. It will all work out in the end; trust me. But, this is your playing field, if you truly think me disappearing is the only way, then we can go ahead with the original plan.”

Sucking in a breath, you stared at Hakoda as if he grew two heads.

Did he just give me an option?

“W-what do you mean what I think?! You literally just said that you CAN’T leave your children! You gave me an alternative plan, and now you’re saying that if I disagree you’ll do as I say? That doesn’t make any sense.”

He let out a laugh, amused by your concerns. “Y/n, you have been trained in this area and executing the fake assassinations all on your own for over two years. No one knows the ins and outs of how the Fire Nation plans things like you do. If you think my plan is severely flawed and both of us are bound to get caught, I will trust your judgement in which is the best to conduct. Yes, I said that we should be thinking of my kids and the Avatar, his destiny is bigger than any of this, but everyone should be allowed to choose what they want to do, I am just allowing you to expand your options.”

With a final breath, he truly looked at you with sincerity, “I trust you y/n.”

It all seemed too much. All your life it felt like there was only one obvious pathway; do what it takes to survive. Everything he said was right, and it dawned on you that for once the decision you were about to make had two genuinely good choices. Hakoda gifted you with that privilege. Either way, you would save his life and yours. Yet you knew that the new pathway presented to you would lead you something bigger, just like he said. You couldn’t take one of the few good things away from his kids.

Overcome with emotion, you hugged him. “Thank you. We’ll do it. You need to stay.”

He hugged you back as you began to cry.

***

After spending the remainder of the night stuffing your face in the kitchens, you didn’t go back to sleep and started to train with whoever was willing until it was time to hear of your next target. By no means were you looking forward to it, but you were ready to distance yourself from the last mission as it regularly filled your mind.

I wonder if he actually put Bato in charge and stood down? Stop thinking about it y/n. It doesn’t matter anymore; you’ll never have to see him again.

As the sun started to disappear into the Fire Nations skyline, you headed for the throne room knowing you shouldn’t keep Ozai waiting.

I can’t wait to see the show he has prepared for me. I wonder how dark he tried to make the lighting this time. Ooo! Maybe if I’m lucky I’ll get 20-foot flames! Then I won’t have to see his ugly beard.

Entering the room and bowing before him, you fought back a snicker as it truly felt like the room seemed darker than usual.

“Y/n, you have come a long way from being a traitor and prisoner to the Nation to one of the most valuable assets. Your next task will be the ultimate test of your loyalty to me. I have trusted and sent my daughter Azula on a mission to bring back my traitor of a brother, and my failure of a son.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Azula was no stranger to riling you up whenever you crossed paths over her brother, and you were well aware of the encounters he had with the Avatar. But not once were you brought into the dysfunctions of their family. Now all of a sudden you were formally addressed by Ozai who was mentioning these events to you? It made you hyper-aware of the scars that stretched along your left side. The only personal connection you had with Zuko.

“While she undoubtedly has my complete trust, and I do not doubt her abilities, she lacks experience. Azula does not have the knowledge of the world, and fighting styles from the other nations like you do. For that, I am entrusting you to take care of the collateral damage. If things are to go wrong, if she is faced with a circumstance hindering her ability to do her task, it is your job to finish it. Even if that means harm must come to her, the mission is the utmost priority. Should you fail, do not underestimate the consequences you’ll face if you ever step back into the Nation.”

In your best attempt to keep your composure, you replied in a cool but firm tone. “Of course, my Fire Lord.”

“Good. You leave at dawn and do not return until my daughter succeeds.”

Bowing in acknowledgement, you began to leave. But you quickly halt your movements as you hear his voice again.

“One last thing y/n. Azula is not to know that you are tracking her at any stage during her mission. You are to distance yourself, only intervening when there is no other option.”

You bow for the last time. “You have my word.”

Making your way to prepare supplies for your journey, you fight the urge to curse out the entire royal family throughout the halls.

Babysitting duty. I was tortured for eight fucking months. Trained to boredom by Zemin’s brother, Piandao, for one month, and some knock-off fire bending master for a week because he didn’t know how to control me, and went gallivanting across the nations to fake assassinations. Not only that but also assist them in making new lives for themselves, FOR BABYSITTING DUTY! ALL BECAUSE HIS SPOILED, SOCIOPATHIC DAUGHTER WITH AN SUPERIORITY COMPLEX ISN’T EXPERIENCED ENOUGH?!

In your silent rage, you make it back to your room trying to reason with yourself that you shouldn’t kill Azula the second you both cross the Fire Nation boarders.

A/N: so…. Did I have y’all in the first half? LMAO AHAHHA.

Also I really thought I was going to have the gaang in this one #fool (oopsies) I really didn’t think the hakoda portion would consume so much of the chapter :/ BUT!! They’re definitely in the next one

Thanks for reading though! On the bright side I’m (finally) on my mid-semester break!!! Woohoo! I’m so excited to wrap up this semester wowies (uni has been kicking my butt),, but this does mean I’ll have more time to write so you guys might get a chapter earlier than normal 😊 Anyway, as normal feel free to message me or leave a comment!

TAGLIST:

@slythergirlimagines​​ @mangoberry43​​ @eridanuswave​​ @whiskeywinter89​

@kaylove12​​ @simplyfandomish​​ @khaleesi-of-assassins​ @callums-keith​

@ilovespideyyy​ @calciumcow​ @blackhood5sos​

[jingabitch]

A Deal with the Devil

SUMMARY: You’re not sure whether the demon in front of you is real or a hallucination, but you don’t really care.

RATING: Explicit

PAIRINGS: Hoseok x reader

WARNINGS: smut | loss of virginity | demon!hobi | kinda dark stuff | talk about death and execution | potentially offensive religious references

WORD COUNT: 6.6k

A/N: For the demon!au prompt for the BTS Ghostie bingo challenge.

Thank you to the lovely betas who looked over this @lunarlxve and @sungiesangel, and to @jkeuphoriadreamland for listening to me whine about the backstory!! 

This room – damp, smelling like mold, cold. It was all you knew. All you’d ever known. Tomorrow would be your first and last time leaving, to be publicly executed in front of the entire city.

The unfairness made you want to scream. Instead, you sat by the window and sobbed. You didn’t understand; you’d never understood. The people who’d come to give you food and water had just said that you were here for the protection of yourself and the kingdom, but you didn’t understand why it had to be you who got locked up and then butchered like an animal.

The sound of the heavy door scraping against the ground as it opened made you turn around hopefully. For what though, you didn’t know. Maybe for the father, you’d always been told you needed to be here to save, to take his turn saving you?

“Oh, it’s just you,” you said dismissively to the new entrant, turning back to rest your chin on the windowsill. You weren’t exactly in the mood for company today.

Hoseok tsked at you. “That’s no way to greet someone.”

You didn’t bother to respond. Surely you could be forgiven for your lack of manners on the eve of your death. Besides, it was just Hobi. He was your best (and only) friend, and you were sure he would understand, given the circumstances. You didn’t quite know where he came from, but he’d been around since you were a child, probably just a couple of years older than you.

Hearing you sniffle miserably, he drew closer cautiously. “Hey,” he said tentatively. “You okay?”

“What do you think, Hobi?” you snapped.

“Someone’s in a mood,” he said lightly.

“Well, someone is going to be burned at the stake tomorrow, so unless you have something that can help, save it,” you snarled.

“It seems like today is your lucky day, then,” he almost sang.

“What are you talking ab—” you started, turning to face him, before screaming at the sight you saw in front of you. In the time that you had looked away from him, he’d somehow sprouted horns and wings. Massive, black leathery wings now bracketed his body, taking up almost all the space in the small room.

Your eyes, panicked, shot up to his, discovering that his warm brown eyes had changed. He now gazed back at you with eyes a deep emerald green, with black slit pupils. Panicked, you fell onto your knees sobbing, not even feeling the pain of the impact reverberating through the joints.

“Please,” you begged. “Please, spare my soul, demon.” Your hands were clasped in front of you as tears slid down your face.

“Y/n, please stop screaming.” Hoseok – or the demon wearing Hoseok’s face – held his hands out placatingly, coming towards you. He was speaking to you the way one might an injured animal, but far from being soothed, the sight of the demon coming towards you terrified you further, and you scrabbled backward until your back hit the wall, cowering away from him.

Realizing that this wasn’t working, Hoseok folded his wings behind him and got on his knees to be on your level. “Y/n, please, please stop. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You’d stopped screaming, but you were still terrified, pressing your shoulders back into the wall so hard that you could feel the indents of the rough stone wall almost cutting into your skin. Still, Hoseok recognized this as progress.

“I’m just Hobi, okay?” he said, using your childish nickname for him. You’d given it to him the first time you met him when you were five, and he was (you’d thought) seven because you couldn’t pronounce his name properly, and it had stuck.

“Who—” you paused to swallow hard, then tried again. “What are you?” Your voice trembled, as did your hands, fisted in your skirt.

He grinned. “Can’t you tell?” he asked, opening his wings slightly with a flourish. Startled, you jerked back and hit your head on the wall. Realising that this wasn’t really the time for jokes, he folded them back against his back contritely. “Sorry,” he apologized, shuffling closer on his knees. “Are you okay?” He reached for you, wanting to cradle the back of your head and check that you were okay, but your eyes flared in terror at his outstretched hands, and he dropped them by his side.

“Okay,” he said, sitting on the ground cross-legged. “I’ll just stay here, okay? Will you please listen to me now?”

Pressing your lips together, you managed the tiniest of nods.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he started. “In fact, it’s the opposite. I want to save you from the stake.”

“But—why? And how?” You were losing your mind, you were sure of it. “And, are you really Hobi?”

“Yes,” he confirmed.

You blinked. “But Hobi was a little boy when I met him.” That tiny detail was the only thing your frazzled mind could hold on to.

“I came to you as a child and manipulated my appearance, so it looked like we were growing up together.” He shrugged.

“Oh, right, just like that,” you said in a mocking tone, laughing sarcastically.

Instead of answering you, he transformed in front of you, a puff of smoke dissipating into the air to reveal the boy you remembered from your childhood. “Do you believe me now?” he asked in a high-pitched, childlike voice, blinking up at you.

“Why are you telling me all this now?” you asked faintly.

“I told you, Y/n-ie. To save you.” He transformed back into his original appearance and shook his wings out.

You pulled a skeptical face. “Why does a demon care what happens to me?” You’d never left this room, but one of the few books you had access to was the Bible, and you knew that demons were evil, manipulative creatures.

“Y/n, come on. I’ve been your friend all your life. Is it so difficult to believe that I want to help you?”

“Well, I don’t even know why you were hanging around me all this time, so yes,” you said, folding your arms across your chest.

Hoseok huffed. Where had you gotten all this attitude? You’d been stuck here all your life. You truly were your father’s daughter. “Fine. If I explain everything, will you let me help you?”

Standing, you brushed the dirt off your clothes. “Fine,” you sniffed, walking past him to the one chair you had in the sparsely decorated room. “But only because it’s not like I have anywhere to be.”

Even in the face of everything going on in your life, you found it in you to sass him. He wanted to kiss you as much as he wanted to slap you silly, and thankfully, if everything went according to plan, he’d get to do both. Standing, he turned to face you, perched on your chair with your back straight and chin up. He could see the princess in you, and imagine you seated on an ornate throne, dressed in the most lavish of gowns rather than the slightly frayed linens you wore now.

In another life, that would be your fate. But in this one, you were his. He knew he had you in his grasp, he had spent a lifetime (well, your lifetime) getting to know you. You were backed into a corner now, and as much as you tried to pretend, he knew you had nothing.

“I was sent to you,” he started.

The laughter bubbled out of your chest. “Wow, my guardian demon!” you mocked.

“If you’ll let me finish,” he gritted, annoyed. He knew you were hiding your fear behind bravado, but it was still irritating as hell. He heard your father had been the same way, though, laughing in the face of the enemy who had vanquished him, telling him he would never amount to anything, that he would damn the kingdom. He’d turned out to be right, but still.

You subsided, sulking. The Hoseok you knew had always been so jovial, constantly smiling, and laughing. This demon standing in front of you could not be more different.

“God and Lucifer had a bet,” he explained, “over whether or not the humans would put you to death. God thought that people would be good and kind, not treat people as a means to an end, all that good stuff. Lucifer… has a very different take on humanity,” he said dryly. “I was sent to make sure you were delivered to your execution.”

“And yet you are offering to save me from the clutches of death?” In your distress, your tone turned snippy, reverting back to the formal language that you so rarely had the need for, cloaking yourself in your royal lineage.

“Yes, my lady.” Two could play at this game. He would indulge you for as long as you wanted.

“You would disobey your master? Why?”

He stepped closer, forcing you to crane your neck to look up at him. "I have acquired a certain fondness for you over the past fifteen years, my lady.”

“Is that so?” you murmured.

“Of course, my lady. How could I not, after watching you blossom into such a beautiful woman?” His rakish grin as he ran his hand through his hair would be your downfall, you just knew it.

Instead of answering, however, you redirected the conversation, although the colour that appeared high on your cheeks showed your discomfiture. “And what will happen if I am not at tomorrow’s execution?”

“Lucifer will lose,” Hoseok replied simply.

Your sharp gaze let him know that you were not amused by his non-answer. “The kingdom will be turned upside down to find you. As long as you remain missing, the rule of the king will not be secure.” His second attempt was far more informative.

“So civil war, then.” Your voice trembled as you said it. You knew that the kingdom had just emerged from decades of internal conflict. Your disappearance would throw it back into disarray. Could your conscience handle it? Wasn’t the death of one prisoner girl a just price to save thousands of innocent lives?

Hoseok could see the hesitation in the way your hands clenched anxiously into fists, wrinkling the linens you wore. As respectable as your altruism was, it was wholly unnecessary in this case.

“Y/n, do you know why you were locked up here? Why do you have to be killed publicly tomorrow by burning?”

Your gaze snapped to his. “Of course,” you replied immediately. That had been the question on your mind ever since you were aware of your surroundings when you’d wanted to go out and play, and the servants and guards had told you no. You parroted their words now to the demon standing in front of you. “It’s for my protection and the protection of the kingdom.”

“Yes, but why?” he pressed. “Why you? How does you being here accomplish that?”

It felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room. He was pressuring you, voicing aloud the questions that had tormented you, kept you awake at night, staring deep into your soul and forcing free all the secrets you didn’t dare acknowledge for fear of what it would cost you.

“Stop it,” you hissed, attempting to remain composed, to show him that you weren’t affected by his sinful words. But despite your royal blood, you were untrained in the art of decorum, and your distress was visible in every inch of your body, from the clench of your jaw to the set of your shoulders and the tears that you couldn’t force back.

“Your father,” he continued, undeterred, “was the king. He was overthrown and given a traitor’s execution by the man who usurped him, the current king.”

“Stop it!” you cried, abandoning all pretense of nonchalance as you threw yourself from your chair, pressing your hands against your ears. “Stop it, stop it, stop it,” you sobbed. “I don’t want to hear any more.”

“Y/n, I understand that it’s difficult, but you must know all of this. If you choose to die a martyr for your people tomorrow at dawn, that is your decision. But you should know why.” He bent to you, placing his hand on your shoulder as he sought your gaze.

You glared at him with teary eyes. “Why?” you demanded. “Why do I have to know? What am I supposed to do with this information? I’ve been locked in this room my whole life, for God’s sake!” you screamed. Hoseok sat on the ground in front of you, holding you close to his chest and rocking you back and forth.

“Shh,” he consoled you as you wept, letting you cling to him as you had so many times before. No matter what it was – a scraped knee, a scolding from a guard when you’d gotten too curious about the outside world – he’d been the one who was there for you. As he was now. The familiar embrace was comforting, reminding you of the years you’d spent together when his words failed.

“Okay,” you finally said, sniffling as you raised your head off his chest to look up at him. “Tell me.” With your jaw clenched and your chin determinedly raised, your birthright shone through your face.

Nodding his assent, Hoseok took a moment to sort through his thoughts before he spoke again. “You are the daughter of the old king, and any son you bear will have a claim to the throne stronger than the king’s own heir. This is why you have been trapped here.”

In a softer voice, he continued, “This is why you are to die a traitor and a heretic.”

“A traitor?” you repeated in a tremulous tone. “A heretic?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“They would drag my name through the mud for having been born?” Your voice rose, but he met your gaze unflinchingly.

“Yes, my lady.”

“And what if I do not do as they will?” you asked.

“There will be civil unrest here, my lady. And… the bet will remain undecided.”

“What does that mean?”

“The devil will not win, because you were not executed.”

“So by leaving, I will be saving the people?” you asked, raising your brow.

“Not exactly, my lady. The devil will not win, and control over the kingdom will not be transferred to him. But…” he paused for dramatic effect.

“But what?” you prompted impatiently. Now was not the time for theatrics, you thought.

“The people will have shown, even if you are not executed, that they will not follow His will. He will no longer watch over them.”

“The kingdom will be forsaken,” you murmured, the cogs in your mind spinning rapidly. At least if control was transferred over to Lucifer, there might be some form of guidance.

“Yes,” he confirmed with a nod.

“I—I have to think about it,” you said, lurching to your feet as you backed away from him. You paced the entire length of the room restlessly, your hand resting against your forehead. Hoseok watched you, sitting on the ground like the little boy you could still remember him as. His lanky frame looked borderline ridiculous sprawled out on the ground like that.

Although he looked like he was watching you lazily, without a care in the world, Hoseok was actually paying close attention to you. After so many years by your side, he could basically read your mind, and he knew just what to say to sway you.

“Are you really thinking about sacrificing yourself?” he asked, propping his chin on his hand as his catlike eyes followed you around the room.

“No… maybe… yes?” Your tone grew increasingly confused, trailing off quietly.

“Haven’t you done enough for them?” he wondered in a deceptively light tone, sounding like he was just musing to himself instead of trying to convince you. He didn’t want to scare you off, after all.

“What?” He knew you would hear him and was satisfied when you refocused your attention onto him, your eyes wide.

He shrugged, looking embarrassed that he’d been overheard. “I mean, you lived your whole life for them stuck in the tower. Do you want to die for them too? When they’ve done nothing but hate and curse you all your life?”

Your chin wobbled. “They cursed me?” All this time, you’d believed that you were a hero for sacrificing your freedom for the protection of the people.

Hoseok’s green demon eyes filled with sorrow for you. “Y/n… you had to have known. What were they supposed to say about the bastard daughter of the old king?”

“If I’m a bastard, why am I here? My children wouldn’t have a claim to the throne anyway.” Your brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Your parents’ marriage was annulled after your father was executed. They said the marriage was made under false pretenses.”

Shocked, you sank down on your bed, your hand blindly reaching for the mattress before you lowered your body heavily down onto it. “They took everything from me,” you murmured. Your birthright, your freedom, and, tomorrow, your life.

“They don’t have to,” Hoseok said, watching you carefully. Would you fall into his clutches now?

“What’s your plan?” you asked quietly, looking up at him. Your expression was open now, trusting and curious, and he felt the triumph of victory curling in his stomach.

“I’ll take you away, of course.” It sounded simple, because it was. There was just one catch.

“And then what?” That wasn’t it, though.

“The world is huge, Y/n,” he said, spreading his arms wide for emphasis. “We can travel around the world. No one will ever find us,” he promised with a wink.

“Really?” Your eyes filled with hope, your back straightening slightly. He could see your mind filling with dreams now of seeing all the places that you’d only read about in books.

He nodded, smiling tenderly at you. Demon he might be, but your childlike wonder soothed his damned soul.

“Wow,” you marveled. He was promising you everything you’d ever wanted, tempting you with your deepest secret desires. Just like the snake in the Bible. As you remembered that, your mood plummeted. There was definitely a price to pay for all of this.

“What’s the catch?” you asked cautiously.

The sweet smile turned into a sinister smirk. You’d always been a smart cookie, he thought. Of course you would realise that none of this came for free.

(You forced yourself to ignore how sexy that expression was on him.)

“The devil will probably look for you,” Hoseok admitted. “He only wins if you’re actually executed so he’ll want to deliver you back here.”

“For fuck’s sake, Hobi, you should have started with that!” you snapped. “How can we run from the devil himself?!”

“No, I have a plan, trust me!” His eyes widened earnestly, the picture of innocence. You glared at him. How many times had he said that right before he got you into trouble? He’d always disappeared right before anyone came in and caught what looked like you alone in the middle of a mess.

Come to think of it, was any of this real? Was it all just a giant hallucination dreamt up by your desperate mind? The guards and servants had never acknowledged Hoseok’s existence, instead indulgently smiling at you and calling you an adorable child when you told them about your adventures with him.

“How do I know this is real?” Your voice trembled. What if you were just crazy, the isolation having driven you mad?

“I don’t know how to convince you,” Hoseok admitted. “But does it matter?”

Your gaze shot up to him. Of course it matters, you wanted to snap. But really, did it? If it wasn’t real, you’d be slaughtered tomorrow, a pawn in a game you’d never even known about. But if you believed, you’d have one more night of peace. Of hope.

Your shoulders slumped as you sighed, your face buried in your hands. Why did you have to be the one caught in this situation?

“Fine,” you conceded, mumbling the words into your palms. “What’s your plan?” The words were said without enthusiasm.

“The devil is… lazy and distracted,” Hoseok said, trying to put it delicately. In truth, Lucifer was so preoccupied with chasing his erratic impulses and desires that he barely concentrated on anything too difficult, preferring to let his minions (like Hoseok) take care of it. “It’ll be easy for him to find you as you are because your soul is so pure, it kind of glows.” You were basically a beacon for the devil.

“And I suppose you know how to stop it from doing that?” you asked dryly.

“Of course.” His eyes glinted. “We just have to tar your soul.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Your brow arched. “You don’t have a lot of time.”

Standing, he stalked with purpose towards you. His pupils narrowed into slits, unsettling demon eyes focusing on you like a predator on its prey. Coming to a halt right in front of you, he bent down, bracing his hands against the mattress on either side of where you were sitting. You swallowed and looked away, leaning back slightly. Unfazed, he followed you, his forehead almost touching yours as he stared straight into your eyes.

“I don’t need a lot of time,” he breathed, the warm air falling on your lips.

You exhaled shakily, clenching and unclenching your fists in your linens. “Hobi…” Your voice was weak and unsure, fading like the light streaming in through the window as night descended upon the kingdom. “What are you doing?” He’d never taken such liberties with you before.

“You know what I’m doing,” Hoseok asserted. His voice wasn’t loud, but it didn’t need to be. He knew he was right, could hear it in the quickening of your breath. You might be innocent, having been stuck here all your life, but your body knew and reacted.

This would be easy.

“Is this—” you paused to gulp “—part of your plan?”

His right hand lifted off the mattress and slid along your bare calf, right under the hem of your linens. “What better way to ruin your innocence than bedding a demon?” he asked, one side of his mouth quirking up in a half-smirk. His hand went up, up, past your knee, to the side of your thigh. “What do you say, my lady? Will you run away with me?”

Your decision took only a split second to make. “Fuck it,” you decided, before leaning forward the fraction of an inch that was necessary to press your lips to his. Your hands settled around his waist, but you quickly realized that for all your bravado, you had no idea what you were doing. Just as you were about to pull back in embarrassment, however, Hoseok made his move, the hand that wasn’t caressing your leg reaching up to cradle your jaw as he tilted your head upwards to make it easier to deepen the kiss.

“Good girl,” he growled against your lips, the hand holding your chin travelling down to your neck. Gripping it tight, he pushed you back so that you fell on the mattress, crawling onto the bed and hovering over you.

“Hobi,” you gasped as he started trailing kisses over your jawline, sucking a livid bruise into the sensitive patch right under it. Your hands scrabbled helplessly at his sides, not sure what to do.

“What is it, love?” he muttered against your skin.

“Hobi, I don’t know what to do,” you confessed.

He stopped, lifting his head to stare down at you. “Don’t worry,” he told you, his tone full of dark promise. “I’ll show you.” He drew his hand up from your thigh to your hip, taking the hem of your linens with it. Your lips opened as you drew in a shuddering gasp and he grinned down at you before crushing his lips back onto yours.

Another time, probably, he would kiss you deeply and savagely, all teeth and tongues and raw need, but for now, he held himself back, reining in his beastly urges out of consideration for your inexperience. The slow, gentle kisses he traded with you instead, running his tongue along your bottom lip and feeling you shiver underneath him, were fun in a different way.

He was a demon, after all. He loved stealing your innocence.

His fingertips ghosted across your lower belly, down to your core. You closed your eyes tight and bit your lip as he stroked his fingers across your slit, gathering up the fluid that had leaked from you, but couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped you as you felt the pad of his finger brush over your clit.

“Y/n… open your eyes for me,” he compelled. You obeyed helplessly, watching, transfixed as he knelt astride you, sucking the fingers coated in your essence off. “You taste so good, love.” The sheer enjoyment in his expression as he tasted you made you clench involuntarily.

“Good girl,” he praised you. He shucked his shirt quickly and then started unlacing his breeches, while you watched with wide eyes. You lifted your hands to his abdomen, then paused right before you made contact, unsure if you were allowed to.

Hoseok quirked his eyebrow at you, his hands pausing their work. “You know, the whole point of this is that you’re allowed to touch,” he commented dryly.

You flushed, your hands drawing back slightly in your embarrassment. Rolling his eyes at you fondly, he took your hands in his and guided them to his abs. “Don’t be shy,” he encouraged in a softer tone as your eyes widened.

“Wow,” you breathed, trailing your fingers down his abs. You’d never felt a man before, so warm and solid, all hard edges and ridges. Soon, you reached the edge of his breeches, and you took over his previous task of undoing the laces as he smirked down at you. While he’d been fast and purposeful in his movements, you took a leisurely, unhurried pace, happy to take your time uncovering the mysteries of his body.

When you were finally done, you raised your gaze to meet his, and he stared back at you, silently asking what you were going to do next. Emboldened by what you perceived to be a challenge, you hooked your fingers in his waistband and pulled his breeches halfway down his thighs. His length sprang free, and you stared at it in wonder before looking up at Hoseok again, this time unsurely.

“Go ahead,” he said, nodding, as he tried to hold back his laughter. Virgins were so cute, and you were the sweetest one, because you were his, all his, because you knew him and wanted him, instead of as a result of some trickery. He sucked in a breath as you brushed the backs of your fingers gently across it, then took it in your hand hesitantly. The surface was smooth, but hot and hard in your grasp, and you were instantly entranced.

He nodded encouragingly at you and, emboldened, you started stroking him lightly. “You can go harder, love, it won’t break,” he said, startling you slightly.

When you did as he asked, he let out a low groan, throwing his head back. “You’re a natural, love,” he said in a low, raspy voice, making heat pool in your core. He wrapped his hands around your wrists gently, pulling you away from him, before tugging your linens over your head. You looked away and swallowed, embarrassed by your nudity, and Hoseok tutted, gently holding your jaw and turning you back to face him.

“Don’t look away from me, love. You’re beautiful,” he told you before kissing you again, one hand bracing his weight above you while the other slid down your body to your core. With his leg, he nudged yours apart, exposing your intimate flesh to his touch. He circled his thumb over your clit while slowly pushing one finger into you.

“Shh,” he soothed against your lips when you started to cry out in discomfort. “I know it hurts, love, but I have to prepare you, okay?” You’d never heard Hoseok speak to you this gently before, and you settled your hands around his hips, holding on tight for comfort.

He slowly stretched you out, with one finger, then two, his thumb never ceasing its ministrations on your clit. Slowly, the discomfort was replaced with pleasure, tightening in your lower belly. You brought your knees up to bracket his body and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Hobi, please,” you whimpered, holding on for dear life. It felt like you were building up to something, but it was too big and new and a little scary, if you were being honest.

“It’s all right, love, you’re doing so well,” he said, pressing kisses to your lips, your jaw, your neck, paying special attention to the spot where he’d left his mark. You threw your head back, your hips following the rhythm of his hand as you bit your lip to hold back the gasps and whispered moans. His erection felt like a brand against your hip, and you could feel him squirming slightly, his body impatient despite the honeyed words he whispered.

The slick sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of you echoed throughout the room, reaching a crescendo as you approached your climax. “Good girl, so good for me, you’re going to cum all over my fingers and then on my cock, aren’t you, love,” he encouraged, keeping up a filthy litany that was endlessly titillating to you, until with a shaky moan, you came, clenching down hard on his fingers as you shuddered under him.

He patiently worked you through your orgasm, only withdrawing his hand when you slumped back onto the bed, breathing hard as sweat beaded on your brow. With the hand covered in your essence, he reached for his own hard length, stroking himself to take some of the edge off as he regarded you. So beautiful, delicate and vulnerable under him, and his, all his.

Hooking his arms under your legs, he pulled them further apart before releasing them. You knew to stay in the position he’d manhandled you into, your arms still locked around his neck. “I’m going to fuck you now, my sweet princess,” he whispered against your lips as he positioned himself. “I’m going to fill you up and stain your beautiful, pure soul. Would you like that?”

“Yes, yes, Hobi, please,” you begged in a breathy voice. You meant it, too. What good was purity and goodness when the God you’d been taught to worship had made a bet on your life, thinking you so insignificant and unimportant that it was a game to him? You wanted to stick it to him, and to everyone else who’d betrayed you before you were even born, punishing you for the sin of existing. Hoseok had offered you an outlet for all your hatred and anger, but it was you, all you, who’d harboured those feelings for years, who’d silently cursed those who imprisoned you when you’d done nothing wrong.

“Please fuck me, Hobi,” you whined before pressing your lips to his in a kiss, something you’d picked up remarkably quickly – but then, like your parents, you’d always been intelligent. He smiled against your lips as he slowly started pushing into you, taking his time and letting you get used to it. He’d prepared you with his fingers, but he was longer and thicker than even three of them together, and there was some discomfort as you were breached for the first time.

You whimpered, blinking back tears as he shushed you with soothing touches and soft kisses, keeping himself under rigid control as you rippled and flexed around him while you tried to adjust to the intrusion. “You’re doing so well, love, just a little more,” he cooed, rocking his hips gently as he brushed some hair off your face.

Eventually, he was fully seated inside you, and he paused to let you catch your breath. “That’s all of me, love, you did so well taking it all in.” He kissed you gently, biting back the urge to thrust, although he couldn’t quite keep himself from grinding his hips slightly for some delicious friction. “You feel so good, so hot and tight around me, so perfect,” he whispered, panting slightly. His breath came out in puffs against your temple, tickling you.

“Hobi…” you groaned, your hands raking down his back until you couldn’t anymore, having reached the point where his wings extended from his body.

“Fuck,” he panted, rearing back slightly to thrust into you. That was a sensitive spot for him, and you’d found it without even knowing. As he pushed his way into you again, his pelvis bumped your clit, causing you to moan as your legs wrapped around him.

“Hobi, that feels good,” you whined. In response, he did it again, and again, building up a gentle rhythm. The sound of his skin slapping against yours filled the room together with your combined moans and pants, a dirty, beautiful, sinful symphony.

“Y/n, you’re so good, shit,” Hoseok swore, his nails digging into his palms as he clenched his fists. He was skating too close to the edge, and he knew, even without asking, that you weren’t there yet. He was thousands of years old and had bedded countless women; he would not be unmanned by a human, and a virgin at that.

“Hobi,” you moaned in response, your fingers brushing across the base of his wings again. You opened your eyes and marveled at the sight of your only friend and now lover, his jaw clenched and teeth gritted as he concentrated. His wings had spread open over the both of you, blocking your view of the rest of the room. It felt like there was only you and him, and nothing else in the world. And, in this moment, that may well have been the case.

“Fuck, you need to cum soon, Y/n,” he said in a strained voice as he reached down to rub at your clit with his fingers. He was less gentle now, forcefully bucking into you like he couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t even noticed the change in his tempo, but you had, and you loved it.

“Hobi, harder,” you begged, your hips rising to meet his.

His teeth bared in a snarl in response. “Yeah?” he panted in a voice gritty with need as he did as you asked, never letting up on your clit. “If you want me to fuck you harder, my lady, you need only ask.” The sound of the barren wooden headboard hitting the stone wall joined the sounds of your fucking.

“Are you close, love?” he asked, dipping his head back down for another kiss.

“Yes, Hobi, yes, yes,” you cried, tightening your arms and legs around him as you hurtled towards your climax.

“Cum for me, love,” he commanded, and almost on cue, you did, your mouth opening in a silent cry as your back arched. Your expression as you were stuck in the throes of your climax was beautiful to him, and so were the sounds of your helpless breaths and choked moans that streamed from you.

The feeling of your core tightening around him, squeezing his length, drew his own orgasm out, and he shuddered over you, his head dropping so that his forehead rested on your shoulder as he came inside you, filling you up with hot ropes of his seed. You stroked the back of his head as he groaned through it, your eyes half-lidded with contentment.

When he was done, he slumped over you, his wings falling to the bed like every part of him was exhausted as his softening length slipped slowly out of you. He tended to you with soft kisses and whispered nothings until you both caught your breath before rolling onto your side.

“So,” he prompted, causing you to turn your body so you were facing him. “Do you have any regrets?”

You giggled. “Why would I have regrets?”

“You know,” he said, shrugging one shoulder. “You’ve ‘damned your soul’ and all that.” He didn’t do air quotes with his fingers, but you heard it in his tone.

“My soul was already damned.” It was true, you knew. Even the powers that be had decided your life was unimportant enough to risk on a gamble, and you were condemned on this earth for the crime of being born to a deposed king. “My birth was a mistake.”

“No,” Hoseok said firmly, cradling your face as he leaned in to kiss you. “You were not a mistake. The politics that takes place outside the walls of this tower have nothing to do with you. The civil war was not your fault, and your imprisonment is yet another sin committed by the imposter king.”

“Okay,” you accepted, snuggling close to him. You acted nonchalant now, since you were high on endorphins and sleepy from your physical exertion, but he knew that it would take you time to truly understand what he was telling you. It didn’t matter – he would be there with you every step of the way.

“So what’s the plan, Hobi?” you asked, your words distorted slightly by the jaw-cracking yawn you couldn’t hold back.

Hoseok leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead. You really were too cute. “Well, we’re going to take a nap for a little while,” he said, hugging you close. “Then you’re going to get dressed in the robes they had prepared for you to die in, and we’re going to scare the shit out of your father’s murderer.” After a lifetime dressed in what amounted, basically, to undergarments, the clothes that had been prepared for your execution were the only clothes that suited a lady of your rank, and you weren’t leaving without them.

“Okay,” you said, your voice dipping slightly towards the end as you slowly succumbed to sleep.

“Then, we can go anywhere you want, love. Travel the world, see the great wonders, eat all sorts of delicious things.” Tenderly, he brushed your hair behind your ear.

You drifted off to sleep easily – perhaps too easily, for someone who had just damned the kingdom to civil war and caused them to be cast adrift from the embrace and protection of God. Yet you didn’t feel bad. After all, who was truly evil? Was it the demon come to steal a virgin from the tower? The harlot who was in bed with a demon, who’d chosen her own selfish desire to live a free life over the protection and safety of the people – people who, in a different life, would have been hers? Or was it the man willing to sacrifice an innocent child for his own power? The people willing to turn a blind eye to justice for stability and riches? The God so detached from the lives of those who worshipped him that he was willing to turn a blind eye on the suffering of innocents?

For the first time in your life, you truly didn’t care.

If you liked it, please leave a comment and/or reblog. It goes a lot further than a like. Thank you!

[a-libra-writes]

Trouble - Tywin x Wife!Reader

this was requested by the dear @girlonfireice. per usual, I went a little nuts with it 😅

So real quick!! There’s this super awesome Chrome extension I’ve discovered, made by @interactivefics​! It allows you to replace “Y/N” with whatever name you desire, it also works for things like “E/C” and “H/C”. I can’t figure out how to insert it into my fics so here’s the link! 

Summary: Tywin takes a second wife for a purely political alliance, and ends up with far more than he expected.

This would’ve been much easier if she were a fool. 

It would have been more irritating, yes, and Lord Tywin’s patience would have stretched thin. He could deal with that, silencing fools and distracting silly women was easy, if not necessary. As distasteful as he found the idea of a second wife, a new Lady of Casterly Rock, she was sorely needed - not just to run the keep, but to provide another heir. 

Such was the life of a second wife. Usefulness and obedience was expected of her. 

Lady Y/N gladly disregarded such things. She was a defiant woman, he should have seen it the day their marriage was agreed upon. He made his disdain for her House known, considering their loyalties to the Starks, but they were still exceptionally wealthy and held influence over the North. Tywin didn’t believe for a moment that they were truly loyal to the Iron Throne, or even the new Warden of the North. Her family was a threat to the stability he installed.

Even if she was essentially a hostage, Lady Y/N arrived at Casterly Rock with a tilt of her chin. She regarded the soldiers escorting her with just as much disinterest, as though they were her own guards. When she met him at the entrance of the old keep, she tilted her head. Long hair draped over her shoulder as she tilted her head. The wild style of the North, free of any Southern braids and accessories. He should have known not just from that curious little gesture, but the way she met his gaze and held it as she spoke.

“A fine afternoon, Lord Tywin,” She said. “Thank you for coming to see me.” 

He played into her courtesies.  “Your possessions will be brought to your room once the handmaidens attend to you. The ceremony will be tomorrow.”

“So soon?” Y/N said, but there was no distress in the question. “All the better, I suppose. My father and brothers would surely drink the whole cellar.”

Tywin didn’t humor that with a response. The ceremony was a minimal affair, in spite of the grand wedding gown her family sent. The majority of the guests were the extended Lannister family that resided in Casterly Rock, some neighboring lords and Y/N’s oldest brother. The man glowered at Tywin the whole time, but said nothing, nor did Y/N spare him a glance. 

Effectively, he was handing a prisoner over, and he begrudgingly left the next morning. Y/N watched him for only a minute before turning to Tywin. “I’ll be in the parlor if you have need of me, dear husband.”

Dear husband. She was fond of that one. Y/N said it prettily, with all the manners she was taught, but her eyes held a challenge that he didn’t miss. Y/N was quick in many things, he began to realize. She familiarized herself with the servants, the castellan and maester, even the servants who scurried here and there. 

“Dear husband,” She’d start, lounging on a chaise lounge in the parlor she liked so much. It had a grand bay window that overlooked the sea, bringing in fresh salty air and the distant sound of gulls when she left it open. It quickly became her favorite spot, and was steadily being rearranged with furniture and books more to her taste. “I understand Lord Marbrand wishes to dine with us in a fortnight. I’ve made the arrangements with the steward.” 

Tywin studied her. His immediate lack of answer didn’t bother her in the slightest. She returned to her book, letting her fine dress splay over the lounge. Perhaps a woman of less decorum would be considered lazy if she did the same, but Y/N was a contradicting mix of proper and relaxed. Perhaps the right comparison would be a cat flicking its tail. 

At the dinner table with the Marbrands, she was all charm and smiles, a proper hostess who watched what she drank while allowing her guest’s cups to flow. It was like that with anyone who came to dine in Casterly Rock, and more than once he’d begun to hear the court whisper about The Lady of Lannister. It had  been so long, after all. They were eager to lap up her smiles and courtesies, hoping it put them in her husband’s better graces. Tywin felt he was the only one who noticed the devilishness in her eyes. 

“You’ve kept yourself busy,” He said to her one evening. “Most ladies would be content with their needlework and gossip.”

She was facing the mirror, but he could see her smile in the reflection. Y/N ran her brush through her hair one last time, feeling for any tangles left. He could see some of her bare back when she brushed, as her nightgown did little to hide it. “You know as well as I that I’d become bored, and you should know I’m troublesome when I’m bored.”

Tywin stepped forward and brushed her hair over her shoulder, letting its softness run through his fingers. It was the only thing softer than her skin, and he watched the slightest blush creep on her cheeks. The candlelight could’ve been playing tricks on his eyes, but then she shivered when his fingers ran down the bareness of her back.

“You’ve already proven yourself troublesome enough,” Tywin said, murmuring close to her ear. From here, he could see her slender neck, and the marks he’d left on it before. The jewelry she wore today covered most of it. 

“What a thing to say.” Y/N turned to him, the candlelight only highlighting her bright eyes. He wasn’t so senseless as to deny himself her beauty, or how much she pleased him, and he was certain she enjoyed herself just as much. It wasn’t the sort of thing he’d expect from a practical arrangement, a glorified alliance, but he couldn’t be too careful.

She had a positively devilish smirk, the one she only showed when they were alone. All the guests and servants saw was her sweetness. Tywin turned her around and brought her close, not missing the soft gasp that came from Y/N’s lips. 

Her hands touched his chest and she leaned in. They hadn’t kissed often, but he took her lips eagerly this time. He could smell the oils in her skin and the soaps in her hair. His hands slipped to her waist and he could feel how warm she was under the cold silk of the nightgown.

She met his eyes directly, like she did at dinner and when they stood together in the great hall. Y/N never showed fear around him. Tywin touched her chin, and he knew her pretty lips could twist into a smirk at any time. Her eyes could go back to that mischievous glint whenever she pleased, but for now, both were regarding him warmly.

Y/N balanced on one foot and sat herself up on the desk. It took a little bit of undignified scooting before she was comfortable. Well, as comfortable as she could be with a hard desk under her thighs and a tied up ankle. She sighed as she looked at her foot hanging unladylike from under her chiffon skirts. Wearing her usual stiff shoes would be out of the question for the next week. 

The guard who was kind enough to carry her to the Maester and then to her husband’s office had left her on the settee, but it was uncomfortable. Y/N pulled her dress back and lifted the ankle higher, trying to relax it as best she could. The maester had wrapped it tight, maybe a little too tight, but she didn’t want to undo the bindings.

She glanced about the desk, noting how tidy the papers were and how not even a quill looked out of place. She closed her eyes, taking in the scent of the office, mostly sandalwood and patchouli, but with some old leather because of the vast number of books. It was strange how it was almost soothing to her, how she liked to come in here to talk with him and even pester him. She loved the way those green eyes would fall on her, a subtle warning, because she still seemed to surprise him.

Y/N frowned at her thoughts suddenly. Not love. That would be …

Foolish, wouldn’t it? And she wasn’t a foolish woman. Y/N touched her abdomen absently. That was the purpose of this marriage, and she shouldn’t forget it. It had to be soon, not that he was an impatient man, but there would be trouble if there were no results in a year.

Y/N sighed and leaned back on her hands. Results. I hate that word. What happens will happen, and not a day sooner. 

Finally, there were footsteps on the stairs and the door was turning. Y/N felt silly for sitting up in anticipation. Her husband entered, no longer surprised to see her making herself comfortable on his desk, but he did glance down at her ankle. In spite of his age, he still had the broad shoulders from his youth, and she liked the doublet he was wearing. It was one she had made for him, and the black suited him well. 

Y/N dangled her ankle a little, not shy about the way her skirt danced around her calves. “There’s my dear husband. Come see what I’ve managed to do to myself.”

“You ought to be more careful,” Tywin said, his voice steely to anyone who would have walked in, but Y/N recognized this tone. He was only lightly scolding her, and was more occupied with the letters he was now sorting through. “Especially if you’re with child. Did the maester tend to you properly?”

“He’s always been helpful. This was no different.”

Tywin didn’t respond right away as he walked to the other side of the desk, facing Y/N as he touched her ankle. He gently held it up and watched her face as he touched it. “What were you doing?”

“I lost my balance on the stairs. It was the shoes more than anything.” 

“Did you walk to the maester?” Tywin frowned.

“No, no. One of the guards heard me, and he carried me there, then I had him carry me here. I wanted to tell you I wouldn’t make it to supper, I can’t have the whole of Casterly Rock seeing me limp about like this.” 

She smiled, then tilted her head at the way Tywin tensed his shoulders. “My lord?”

“Who carried you?” Tywin asked.

Even when his green eyes had such a cold look, she liked them. Y/N was not afraid of him, in fact, she was curious by this reaction. “I believe his name is Ser … Harys. Hallard? Yes, Ser Harys.”

Her husband had a distinct look of displeasure, and Y/N leaned in. She held his shoulders and brought him closer so he stood between her legs. 

Tywin’s lips pressed to her ear and she tried to suppress her shiver, but likely failed. “You had another man carry you to my chambers?”

“A lady doesn’t crawl,” Y/N said easily. She pulled some of her hair aside, and predictably, he kissed there, giving her another involuntary shiver. Damned if she couldn’t control it, but he figured out her weak spots fairly quickly. “You wouldn’t want me to do such a thing, would you, my lord?”

He responded with a firm kiss to her neck, gently pulling aside a necklace that was attempting to cover a lovebite. It was still tender, and Y/N let a satisfied noise escape her lips as he not so gently bit it. She slid her hands up his arms, still firm and strong, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. 

Tywin’s bright green eyes met her’s, and Y/N felt she froze a little. He set her necklace back into place. “If Ser Harys touches you again, I’ll have him guard the fish docks.”

Y/N smiled and tried not to chuckle. It may have escaped anyway. “You’re upset, dear husband.”

Tywin shot her a warning look, but as usual, she didn’t heed it. She loved irritating the great Tywin Lannister, giving him the feelings of petty jealousy that were usually reserved for young men. She relished in the way his words bit as he said, “A guard who bought his knighthood and can’t even properly strap his sword to his waist should not be handling the Lady of Casterly Rock.”

Y/N leaned in, pulling him closer and nuzzling against him, like he had just done to her. “You’re jealous.”

She gasped and a pot of ink rattled. Y/N glanced to the side, watching the ink settle before turning to Tywin hovering over her. She curled a leg around his waist and kept it there. 

“I see you’re still full of cheek,” Tywin said, that scolding voice replaced with something far more heated. Y/N took in a breath, relishing in the strength and warmth he was using to hold her down. 

“Next time, I’ll call for you, Tywin,” She said, all sweet coolness in contrast to his rough, burning eyes. “I’ll ask for my dear husband to take me to my room.”

She gasped again, sighing in delight as his hand slipped under her dress and grasped her thighs. Y/N’s ruby necklace fell off to the side and he made quick work of teasing her bruise again. “Tywin!”

“You really are a troublesome little wife,” He said as he pressed his fingers up her thighs and squeezed her where she liked. He felt her moan when he kissed her throat, and her leg as it snaked around his waist. 

Y/N smiled to herself, full of contentment, forgetting all her earlier worries and doubts, as she often did when he wrapped her up. Even the aching of her ankle was far away as her dress was pushed up and bites were trailed down her chest. 

Practicality. Results. The words didn’t even occur to Y/N afterward, when he smoothed out her dress and carried her to her room, not missing a step in spite of his age, carrying her steadily enough that she felt comfortable enough to rest her head on his shoulder. 

She quickly glanced in the direction of a suit of armor, using its dull reflection to check her hair. It was a bit pointless, considering the age of the thing, but she’d forgotten to do a final once-over back in her room. She was running late as it was.

Y/N lifted her dress a few inches and threw caution to the wind, scurrying to her husband’s chambers. They shared their sleeping chambers now, but he still had a separate room that he would do business in, or simply give her space as she had a small army of handmaidens descend on her hair and dress. They had to leave now if they were to attend the gala on time. 

Normally he was an incredibly punctual man, but he had an exceptional dislike for being distracted from important work, and lately he’d been busy with business involving the mines. Y/N entered the chambers and blinked in surprise.

A serving boy startled from the noise she made. He almost knocked over an empty goblet. “M-My lady, my apologies.”

“I did not realize my husband was taking dinner here,” Y/N said. Sometimes she ate before a gala, not wanting to stuff herself during and feel sick during the dancing. She didn’t recall seeing Tywin do such a thing in their year and a half of marriage.

The boy bowed deeply, his face red with embarrassment. “I was told to bring it here, Lady Lannister.”

“Very well, you may go.” Y/N stepped aside, and the boy flushed all over again, anxious that she held the door open for him. He scampered away like a spooked mouse. 

Y/N watched the boy go for a few moments, noting his messy chesnut hair. He didn’t seem familiar, but she didn’t know all of the young servants. They were usually not so young, nor so scruffy, and typically kept to the shadows. 

She sat in the comfortable chaise-lounge and sighed deeply, feeling too warm in her tight dress and the intricate braids pulling on her head. She always got a headache from these things, but it was Southern fashion. She glanced at the flagon full of wine and poured herself a cup. 

Hearing footsteps in the other room, she called, “My lord?”

“Making yourself comfortable?” Tywin emerged as she expected, wearing a fine crimson and gold doublet that matched her own fancifully embroidered gown. He glanced with amusement at how cozy Y/N made herself in a room that he occupied far more often than she did.

“I try. Dear husband, isn’t it a little early for wine this strong?” Y/N made a face, but she kept sipping on it. It wasn’t a terrible taste, but there was too much sweetness. It wasn’t Dornish, she knew that much, nor was it what he often drank.

Tywin set down a bundle of papers and a map on the table beside Y/N. There was a rare humor in his voice as he said, “No one told you to help yourself to it.” 

“Hmm.” Y/N’s lips and head were already feeling fuzzy, so now was a good time to stop. She should’ve started with the food first. Y/N picked a few plump grapes off the plate and ate one, noting how she couldn’t taste them as well as she should have.

She didn’t notice Tywin’s careful gaze on her. “Did you bring this in?”

“No, I thought you called for it.” Y/N set the rest of the grapes down. “A little  mean, isn’t it, eating dinner without your wife?” 

Tywin frowned at the plate of food. Y/N stood and smoothed out the doublet, admiring the fine embroidery. She gave a kiss on his jaw, and he tilted his head to give her a proper kiss in return. 

“We’ll be late,” Y/N started, but the words were difficult to say. She glanced toward the sweet wine that she could still taste on her numbing tongue. The fingers she pressed on the gold embroidery were tingling. She let out a heavy breath, air that took too much effort to exhale, and she tasted the wine again. 

The room began to go sideways and Y/N felt fingers digging into her arms, pulling at her. She felt the jewels fall from her hair and tangle in the braids. She heard the sound of something falling to the floor - one of her hairpins? - and she could smell the sweetness, overwhelming now. It was disgusting, and she wished she had the energy to get away from it.

Y/N could only rest against something warm as she was jostled, the room still spinning and the halls and doorways beginning to merge together. 

His fingers ran over her soft hair as he carefully pushed it aside, keeping it out of her face. Her complexion was unlike he’d ever seen, clammy and too pale by far. His thoughts were distant and he recalled the past few hours, the awful charcoal and ginger concoction that the maester mixed to force down your throat. He could still smell the ginger wafting in the air long after the maester had removed the bucket from the room. 

Y/N’s breath was shallow and her eyebrows were still drawn, but it was better than the sudden unconsciousness and the sickly way her head rolled when Tywin picked her up. The maester had re-entered the room, and he was talking in that meandering way that these old men often did. 

It was all platitudes, his voice a drone until it finally reached Lord Tywin. 

“... It is fortunate, my lord, that --”

His sharp green eyes turned to ice as he looked at the maester. “What part of this is fortunate?”

“W-well, the fact that - she drank so little, and it was - well, the dose was not - whoever mixed this concoction, the dose was improper, my lord.” The maester stumbled. “I will have to watch her for the next few days to be sure -”

“You’ll do nothing but that, do you understand? If she so much as breathes differently, I want to know.” 

The maester nodded fearfully, but Tywin was already turning his attention back to Y/N. He heard her stir, and she pressed her face against the pillow, sighing deeply as her brow furrowed. Her eyelids fluttered and she glanced around the room. 

His hand touched her back and gently stroked it. “Y/N.” 

“Tywin?” Y/N was talking, that was good, at least. She relaxed into the pillow as his hand went back to petting her hair. The maester tried to reach for her as well, but Tywin glared him into submission.

“Be still,” He said, low enough that the castellan and maester had difficulty catching his words. The relief was already washing over as Y/N recognized him. He touched her face, and she rested against his cold hand. 

“Where...?” 

“With the maester. I’ll move you to our chambers shortly.” He kissed her brow, pausing for a moment to murmur, “I won’t leave you alone.”

Contented with that, Y/N nodded, resting back and curling up to her side. She already looked far better than she did before. Some color was returning to her cheeks.

With great difficulty, Tywin pulled himself from Y/N’s bedside. He nodded toward his castellan, the senior knight of his guard. “I’ll oversee her being moved to her bedroom, but after I speak with all of her handmaidens and the servants.” 

The castellan spoke brusquely. “They’ve been gathered in the cells, my lord, and are awaiting your questioning.” 

Lord Tywin took one last glance at his wife, uneasily nestled under the covers. He touched her shoulder and gritted his teeth, his careful touch contrasting with the burning thoughts crossing his mind. He leaned in, brushing a kiss on her brow. When he straightened up, the castellan stepped aside as his lord harshly brushed past him.

[stealingpotatoes]

because you’re mine

Ao3 link

Summary: In a quiet moment at the Hound Pits Pub, Emily asks Corvo who her father is. Corvo knows he has to tell her.

n/b: I wrote a fluffy Emily-accidentally-finds-out-about-Corvojess fic a while back, and while I LOVE that idea, I also love the idea of Corvo telling her after the whole assassination thing (and I think that that might be more canon compliant, considering this). So yeah… here’s that!

---

Corvo hated waiting between missions. 

Taking Lady Boyle out at her own party was a smart idea. There would be so many other masked men there that Corvo could slip right in, remove her from play, and slip out with no worry about the guards. It’d be a nice change from having to skulk past and knock out every City watchman in order to not be seen. Though the idea of going to one of those noble parties he hated so much wasn’t as nice a change. But he could do it. He’d probably been to more than a hundred of those. He could make it through one more. 

You’ve never been to one without Jess, an unwelcome voice in his mind reminded him. He pressed his lips to a thin line. He could make it through one more party, even without her. He had to do it. He had to for her, to cut Burrows’ funding and get one step closer to ending his reign of tyranny. To get her justice.

But the real issue was waiting . He had to wait until the night of the party. It was so very soon -- only tomorrow evening -- but it felt too far away. There was too much time to think about things he didn’t want to think about, too much empty space. The waiting between missions was the worst part about them. 

He thought it should have been missions themselves; pushing himself like that after six months of prison and pain should have been a bad thing. But on missions, he could distract himself from everything by focusing on the objective and nothing else. Finally not feeling useless and weak, finally feeling like he was doing something to fix things. To make up for his failure that day, and everything that had happened afterwards. 

In times like this, in between, the feelings of restless uselessness crept back in. He’d had plenty of quiet moments to think in Coldridge; he didn’t need any more. He was doing nothing to help. Nothing to get justice, nothing to get Emily back home and on her rightful throne. Right now, he was sitting on his bed in the Hound Pits and sharpening his sword. He hardly used it on missions, but maintaining his weapons and training himself was a good way to pass the time. It was the best thing he could do to try and abate the useless feeling. Preparing himself for the mission ahead, making sure he would succeed. If he did want to use his sword, he couldn’t have it being blunt or failing to open. He couldn’t leave anything to chance. 

His thoughts were interrupted by quiet and familiar footsteps coming from the stairwell. Corvo allowed himself a small smile. He knew those steps almost as well as he knew his own. 

Knowing Emily, she was trying to move as quietly as she could -- trying to copy his own near-silent footsteps. She’d spent hours trying to perfect it back home, and was always annoyed when he could still hear her small footsteps coming, and when he could still sneak up on her. 

The tread got closer and stopped where his room began. “Hi Corvo.” 

Corvo glanced behind him, pretending to have only just noticed her in the doorway, holding some paper and pens in her small hands, and smiled at her, “Hey Em.”

She smiled back. “Can I come in here and draw?” 

“Are you done with your lessons?” Corvo asked, despite knowing they would be by now. He had to remind her that her lessons were important, even if now they seemed like a silly thing to be concerned with. 

Emily dropped her shoulders dramatically, “Yes. They were so boring.” She walked further into the room and plopped herself on the floor, evidently taking his question as a yes. She knew by now he would never deny her his company. 

Corvo folded his sword in one practiced motion, not wanting weapons out when Emily was in the room, and caught her interested look at the blade. Swords and fighting -- particularly him fighting -- had always interested her. Certainly more than her lessons with Callista did. He wouldn’t have been surprised to find that Emily had tried to ask Piero for her own version, though Emily wasn’t going to be fighting with anything but wooden sticks for a long time. Hopefully she would never have to touch a blade, despite how much he knew she wanted to be a fighter like him. He didn’t want her to be like him. Anything like him. 

“I just had history.” Emily laid out the paper and crayons on the wooden floor in between her and Corvo’s feet. “Callista was teaching me about some of the past Emperors and Empresses and dynasties.”  

Corvo placed his sword hilt down by his side and leaned forward, “Anyone not boring?” 

Emily kept looking down at her paper, and brushed a finger over her crayons, trying to pick the right colour to start with. “Some interesting ones. Some really not .”

Corvo gave Emily a slight huff and a smile. 

Emily perked up and looked at Corvo, “I did learn about my grandfather, Emperor Euhorn.”

Did you learn he was a bit of an asshole? Corvo thought, but luckily didn’t say out loud. “What’d you learn about him?” 

“Um… that he was the first of the Kaldwin rulers and he became Emperor in 1803, after a regency that started in 1801,” Emily turned back to her pens and picked a blue one. She set to drawing, “A bit like me. I’ll be Empress after a regency too.” 

“Mm,” Corvo agreed, his mouth a thin line. It seemed strange to compare the two events. Then, he’d been a boy of just five, playing in the streets of Karnaca. Dunwall and everything that happened there had seemed so far away and inconsequential to him. If only he’d known. Now… now its events were practically carved onto his skin... 

Corvo shook his head slightly, not ready to let himself go down that line of thought. To distract himself, he tried to get a better look at Emily’s paper. He couldn’t quite see what Emily was drawing yet. It looked like the beginnings of a building, perhaps. He loved her drawings. He just about preferred them to the perfect portraits hung around the Tower… though he might have been a little biased. Ok, he was definitely biased. 

Emily suddenly stopped drawing. She set her pen down, but didn’t look up from the floor, and she sighed in a way that made her sound a decade older than she was. “Learning about my grandfather made me think… Mother always said she would tell me about my father when I was older. But… she’s gone now and she… can’t tell me,” Emily’s gaze remained blank on the floor.  

As Emily spoke, Corvo’s heart felt like it shattered into a million pieces. An uncomfortably familiar feeling now, it seemed. He could ignore how everything made him feel, but any time Emily said something about it all that happened, the flood of emotions threatened to break through the dam of control he’d built. 

She can’t tell me. Corvo thought of the Heart, that continuous echoing beat in the back of his mind. Her voice, but not her. Emily wouldn’t be able to hear or see it anyway. Only the Void-touched could. People like him. People like the assassins. She can’t tell me.

“Corvo, do you know who my father is?” Emily looked up from the floor finally, up at him, “Because you were always with Mother… so maybe you… know .”

Her question caught Corvo completely off guard. 

He had been asked that near same question -- you’re almost always by Her Majesty’s side, you must know who the princess’ father is -- many times before, by prying nobles and gossips who thought he might share the secret when his Empress wouldn’t. But he never did. He usually insisted he didn’t know, though sometimes he would simply say he was sworn to secrecy, just to annoy people with the idea that he knew something they didn’t. 

But he couldn’t lie to Emily. He couldn’t deny her this. Not now. Not when she’d lost her mother; Corvo couldn’t let her believe she was an orphan, couldn’t let her believe that the secret had died with her mother. She needed her father. She needed… she needed Corvo . 

Just tell her. Tell her. 

He couldn’t silence the voice in his head that was telling him that Emily deserved a better father than him. It was true; she did. She deserved a man who could openly be her father, not a lowborn Serkonan like him. She deserved someone who could have saved her mother, not the ex-Royal Protector who had failed in the worst way imaginable. 

But he was what she had. He couldn’t change that. He didn’t want to change that. He loved Emily with every fibre of his being, and she… she was his daughter. Void, he could barely think the words; how was he meant to say them aloud to tell Emily? 

This was hardly how he’d imagined telling her. He’d thought it would be when she was a little older, he thought it would be in Dunwall Tower, he thought it would be him and Jess telling her. Maybe he could wait. The latter was impossible, but the first two -- he could wait until they’d reclaimed Dunwall Tower and everything was as okay as it could be to tell her. Or he could tell her now. Or--

“You do know…” Emily said slowly and quietly, furrowing her brow. Corvo realised he’d hesitated too long to make the choice. She was a smart girl, she knew he knew. 

Tell her. “Yes… I do.” 

Emily’s brown eyes widened. Jessamine had always said Emily’s eyes were just like his own. It would have been a comfort, something nice to see in his daughter, if he hadn’t always been so stressed about someone finding out about him and Jessamine because of them. “Please tell me. Please, Corvo.”

Corvo moved his hand behind his back so Emily wouldn’t see the glow of the Mark and activated Dark Vision, glancing at the door and the room through it. Nobody was there to hear the secret. He wanted to think he could trust the Loyalists not to listen in on him -- or even trust the Loyalists full stop -- but something was off about them, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. He hoped it was just his own paranoia born from Burrows’ betrayal, but he wasn’t going to let his guard down too far. 

Corvo deactivated Dark Vision, letting the world shift back to its normal colours and gave Emily a sure look, “It still has to be a secret.”

Emily sat up straighter, so very eager to learn the truth. “Yes. I promise. I promise I’ll keep it a secret.” 

Corvo nodded. Maybe there wasn’t any point in keeping it a secret anymore, but old habits died very hard, and the anxiety was still pooling in his stomach.

Emily continued to look up at him hopefully, waiting. Say it . Tell her. She needs to know.

“I-” the words didn’t want to leave his mouth. He took a quick breath in- “It’s me. I’m your father.”

“What?” Emily’s mouth was open in shock. She was expecting someone better than you, Corvo thought. But then her expression spread into a grin, and the thought melted away, “Really?!”

“Really.”

“You’re actually my father?” Emily said, the grin still wide on her face. It hit Corvo that she wanted it to be him. She was happy that it was him. Despite everything.  

“Mm. And you’re actually my daughter,” Corvo couldn’t help stop himself from smiling as he spoke. 

Emily was up off the floor and hugging him in the blink of an eye, her arms tight around his shoulders and her face half-shoved into his coat collar. Corvo closed his arms around her small body and shut his eyes, focusing on the feel of Emily -- his daughter -- safe and sound in his arms. 

They pulled away from each other after a few seconds and Emily continued to beam up at him. Corvo didn’t think he deserved that smile, but he would easily die a hundred times over for it.  

“I knew it. I knew it was you.” 

Corvo thought of all the times Emily had tried to convince him and Jess to get together, and didn’t completely think she was lying.  

“This whole time… you were...” Emily glanced down. “You’re my father,” she repeated with a grin at Corvo. 

Corvo’s chest ached with love. He couldn’t stop smiling back at her. “Yeah, I am.” And I’m the luckiest man alive to have you as my daughter. 

It almost seemed like Emily smiled more  after he confirmed it again.

Corvo quickly tried to look more serious, “But remember, you can’t tell the others. Including Callista.”

Emily nodded, then shut her mouth and squished her lips together to illustrate ‘my lips are sealed’ . 

Corvo gave her an affirmative half-smile. I love you so much.

Emily glanced to the side and paused for a short second. “I know it’s a secret, but could I call you father when it’s just us?” She looked up at him with pleading eyes, “Please?” 

The ache of love in his chest grew stronger. Corvo hesitated for a moment. He nodded, not sure he could actually form words through his emotions to say yes. 

Emily grinned. “Father,” she all but whispered, trying it out. Then she went in for another surprisingly strong hug. “I love you, father.”

Corvo hoped his daughter couldn’t tell how close he was to crying. “I love you too, Emily.” 

[yespolkadotkitty]

Pero Tovar x mixed race OFC, Isla Han

Thank you @heatherbel for the beta!

Welcome to my next crazy adventure, a Romancing the Stone/Kate and Leopold mash-up. Big love to the really excellent @fleetwoodmactshirts for the original idea and planting the seed for the romanting the stone twist.

There might be quite a lot of British humour in this? Just know that Manuel is a character from the cult classic Fawlty Towers.

Chapter One

Present Day

ISLA: C’mon Lau. Put me out of my misery. Just tell me he won’t be at my office this year.

LAURA: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

ISLA: Don’t pick now to start being modest. At least get someone actually Spanish this time. Last year’s effort was way more Manuel than Antonio Banderas. Just saying. 

LAURA: And yet you insist that you weren’t into that…?

ISLA: He was dedicated, I’ll give you that much. My editor wasn’t impressed when he started to strip in full view of the conference room, though.

LAURA: He was worth the money, all right. Should’ve got someone to record it for Youtube.

I snorted and tossed my phone on the sofa. My birthday was tomorrow. Which meant, just like every year since I’d started my bestselling series of novels, I’d get a visit from a guy all trussed up like my swarthy Spanish mercenary, Alejandro.

It had been five years and my friends - Laura was the ringleader - never failed to embarrass me. All the guys they hired were complete bollocks. Dressed in cheap party-shop chainmail and leathers. 

Some of them tried a Spanish accent (always terrible). 

Others stripped (even worse). 

Last year, poor Manuel had done both, exceeding my expectations, and tripped over the chainmail around his legs on his way out, yelping loudly as he fell face first into a waste paper basket.

At least everyone else had been entertained.

I closed my eyes and leaned back on the sofa. It hadn’t escaped my notice that I’d managed to write the man of my dreams into books that had sold well all over the world, and yet I couldn’t find an actual man who held my interest much longer than the time it took for them to say “what you drinking tonight, love?”

It was probably just as well. I’d rather live in my delicious fictional world of Alejandro and his warrior Princess bride as they traversed the globe, saving others in need and having sex on any surface that stayed still for longer than five minutes.

I heard footsteps on the stairs and opened my eyes. My gaze caught on the poster of the cover of my first novel, The Spaniard. I’d had the image blown up to A1 and framed after it had sold a million copies and the artist’s rendition of Alejandro had stolen my breath. He looked the perfect combination of menacing and beautiful, his full lower lip creased in the centre, like the angel who made him had pressed a thumb there to mark a job well done. His inky hair curled, tousled, over his forehead and his chestnut eyes, one marked with a long, wicked scar, blazed out from the page. Little wonder people had been compelled by him and his broad-shouldered form in the layers of chainmail and leathers.

The footsteps came closer and my brother Paul poked his head around the door. “I’m off out. Want anything from Tesco’s?”

“No, thanks.” I did in fact, want some milk, but when Paul said he was going out he could be gone for ten minutes or five hours. God knew what he did when he went on these little sojourns.

“Okay, text me if you change your mind. See you later.”

“See you.”

I listened to him clatter back down the stairs of our shared townhouse and a minute later, the front door slammed shut.

My parents would be appalled if they knew I essentially let Paul sponge off me. But I was lucky; I could afford it. And Paul had been my rock in our early years, when our Dad had several nervous breakdowns and was sectioned. I’d have been lost without him.

Besides, I didn’t like rattling around this big house by myself. There was only so much TV I could watch, and the bright lights of London held limited appeal after a few years.

LAURA: So... will you record the next guy? I mean, not that I’ve hired anyone.

LAURA: Yet.

LAURA: Please?

I laughed, decided not to reply, and instead got up off the sofa and climbed the stairs to my office to continue work on my edits.

*****

London, 1269

“I should have known bringing her here was a mistake,” William Garin groused as he and a fellow mercenary, Pero Tovar, crouched outside their somewhat ramshackle lodgings, waiting for a man to exit.

Pero snorted. “Bringing a woman into any situation is playing with fire, no? Someone always gets burned.”

William sighed, shifting position behind the large hay bales. “Not my sister. I brought her here to protect her from the kind of gobshites we have in Ireland. Not to have her catch the eye of another.”

Pero drew out a strip of dried meat from his belt pouch, offered it to William. The Irishman shook his head.

“Suit yourself, amigo.”

“He’ll be coming out any minute, and you’re eating?”

Pero scoffed. “I can eat and fight at the same time, cabrón.” He finished the dried meat, and took out another strip.

William shook his head, but he was smiling. “Do all Spaniards eat this much?”

“They do when their Irish comrades starve them, and make them sit for hours behind stinking bales of hay to protect their virgin sister, si?” 

William clapped him over the head. “I - look alive, Tovar.”

The door to the small, two-storey thatched house opened. Catriona, William’s sister, a comely redhead, peeked outside, then ducked back in.

A tall man, pale-skinned, thick dark hair with a closely trimmed beard, exited, then briefly doubled back to kiss a smiling Catriona.

“Bastard,” William gritted out.

“Patience, amigo,” Pero cautioned. “We see where he goes, and then we plan.” He shoved William’s head down behind the hay bale, letting him up when it was safe. “And now we follow.”

“Eejit.” But William followed Pero’s steady lead.

They tracked the man through the dirty London streets, narrowly avoiding a fishwife emptying a chamber pot out of a high window. Two girls half Pero’s height wheeled a cart of freshly baked pies down the narrow alley opposite, the scents mingling with the more unpleasant stink of everyday life.

The stranger turned, and Pero yanked William behind a rickety butcher’s cart, crouching and ignoring the stocky man’s “oi!”

“He’s stopped looking,” William confirmed, and they tracked him down nearer the big river that snaked through the dogpile of the city. 

Pero’s attention was briefly snagged by an enterprising young pickpocket, currently targeting a well to do merchant admiring trinkets with what was likely his mistress. The boy caught his eye, hesitated. Pero winked. Who was he to cut the boy off in his prime?

The stranger disappeared into the mouth of what looked to be an abandoned hovel, and William and Pero darted after him on feet made silent by years of training.

The hovel was dark inside, dank. A light blinked on in the gloom; like no light Pero had ever seen the like of.

“What is this witchcraft?” He muttered.

“Don’t dally, man!” William tugged Pero after him, rushing to grab their quarry.

The Irishman tripped, caught the surprised stranger by the collar - and then everything went black.

******

“Tovar! Tovar!”

Pero opened his eyes, groggy. He lay on a smooth, flat surface. Not unlike the floors of the fine throne rooms of kings he’d served during his years as a sellsword. He smoothed a hand over the unblemished ground, blinked.

“Snap out of it, man!” William grabbed him, shaking roughly. “Follow the bastard!”

A terrible banging, drums perhaps, assaulted Pero’s ears from somewhere outside their strange, smooth grey prison. A pile of rubble was stacked in one corner. Crude art littered the walls; also the same luxurious smoothness there.

“William - where are we, amigo?”

But the Irishman was preoccupied. “Do you not see he’s getting away?”

Pero climbed to his feet, his head aching. Mierda, it was so bright here.

William was already giving chase, so Pero followed his friend as best he could with his head spinning from wherever they’d followed the stranger to - the stranger woo-ing Catriona. Sweet Catriona, who he’d seen grow from a child.

William shoved a rickety door open, and all at once a pillar of light hit them. William stumbled, falling back on to Tovar, who hit the ground with a grunt.

“Ay, cabrón!”

“What in Heaven’s name-?”

They gaped through the doorway. A huge metal pole grew from the earth, a bright light at its apex, streaming down on the ground. Some feet away sat what looked to be a small fort on wheels. But wheels unlike any Pero had ever seen before. The unholy, piercingly bright light shone into the wheeled fort, illuminating a chair inside. 

Used for torture, perhaps.

“Where are we, amigo?” he whispered again, to William.

“We’ll make enquiries later. For now, the bastard’s getting away. Come on!”

“Of course, amigo, where you go, I follow,” Pero muttered. 

But what other choice did he have?

They ran out of the door, towards the wheeled fort of torture, and into the unknown.

Tagging the Pedro pals: @thirstworldproblemss @jaime1110 @chews-erotically @songsformonkeys @alwaysbethewest @beccaplaying @nelba @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @gamingaquarius @buckstaposition @pedropascallion @soldade @agirllovespasta @pajamasecrets @thegreenkid @cryptkeepersoul @kindablackenedsuperhero @littlemissthistle @alienprincesspoop @keeper0fthestars @f0rever15elf @mrsparknuts @abuttoncalledsmalls @mrschiltoncat @thempiregroovy @dornish-queen  @mourningbirds1 @a-seeker-of-imagination​ @knittingqueen13​ @ mstgsmy​  @roxypeanut​ @poenariuniverse​

[withgirl-sq]

I posted 107 times in 2021

63 posts created (59%)

44 posts reblogged (41%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 0.7 posts.

I added 274 tags in 2021

#azutara - 45 posts

#azula - 42 posts

#avatar the last airbender - 41 posts

#katara - 38 posts

#azulara - 35 posts

#avatar azula - 28 posts

#breznick - 15 posts

#morgan reznick - 10 posts

#avalance - 10 posts

#claire browne - 10 posts

Longest Tag: 30 characters

#claire browne x morgan reznick

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Just a quick poll

I have too many fics right now so can’t decide what to work on, just wanted to see what people are most hoping to have an update for if you have read them. Because I have a serious problem, they are mostly from different fandoms so I’ll include those in the list lol-

- Searching for the Lyon - SwanQueen (Once Upon a Time)

- Why Do You Care? - Breznick (The Good Doctor)

- The Last Avatar - Azutara (Avatar The Last Airbender)

- Imagine Me and You - Avalance (Legends of Tomorrow)

On the off the chance that anyone has read my other stuff, please feel free to suggest any of my other unfinished fics which you can find here:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witchgirl1234

22 notes • Posted 2021-12-05 15:09:46 GMT

#4

Avatar Azula AU- question

So I’ve started an Avatar Azula AU and I was just hoping to gauge how people would feel about an idea I had because I’ve really been on the fence about it 

The idea basically is around the fact that I would need someone to take Azula’s role in book 2 and 3 for a lot of the plot and I was wondering what people would think if this person was Lu Ten

This would be an AU where he was taken as a prisoner at Ba Sing Se and Iroh believed he was dead and by the time he returned to the Fire Nation, Iroh had already left with Zuko so he doesn’t know that he is alive and Ozai could send him after Azula as a way to regain his right to the throne

Obviously this would be an OCC Lu Ten and I may have to make him a bit younger, but I just think it could be an interesting dilemma for Iroh to deal with while he is also trying to balance helping Zuko/Azula? 

I was just hoping to see if people would find this as interesting as I have (even as a very underdeveloped idea since I’m a long way from Book 2)?

[I should also mention that I’m not one for angsty endings for characters I like so he would likely get help from Iroh by the end if I ever get that far with the idea]

24 notes • Posted 2021-04-13 20:42:57 GMT

#3

What's your favorite azutara headcanon?

Thank you for the ask!

So I love the idea that Azula absolutely hates the cold (like the extreme cold of the Water Tribes) but everyone thinks that it doesn't bother her because she's a firebender. Katara (and possibly Kanna?) is the only one that notices how much it bothers her and makes it her mission to give her the warmest clothes she can because she knows that Azula loves everything else about the tribe

I also like the idea that Azula is a great artist and that she uses it as one of her therapy techniques after the war and that Katara loves seeing whatever she drew/painted. She particularly loves drawing things from the Southern Water Tribe because it's so different from the Fire Nation.

Also, not exactly Azutara, but I'm obsessed with a Azula and Sokka friendship. Like they would start of reluctantly agreeing to get along for Katara and then one day they would realise that they're actually best friends lol

Can't think of any more at the moment because most of my mind is usually occupied with head canons for my Avatar Azula AU (mostly for book 3/reuniting with Ursa) and I'm not sure if they're what you're looking for here! haha

25 notes • Posted 2021-11-25 20:14:40 GMT

#2

Azutara prompt: katara and azula have a daughter (kya) and they both have to go to attend some political affair but their daughter is pretty clingy and thinks her mommies are leaving her (kya is around 2 or 4)

Thank you for the prompt really enjoyed writing it!

Hope it was what you were looking for :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33835339

27 notes • Posted 2021-09-12 11:37:56 GMT

#1

Looking for ideas for an Azutara Halloween one shot so any suggestions would be appreciated 🙏

In a modern High School Au, what would these characters wear to a Halloween party?

Sokka

Suki

Toph

Zuko

Azula

Mai

Ty Lee

34 notes • Posted 2021-09-06 10:40:57 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[odissey061]

Kinktober, day 18

Fandom: Tian Guan Ci Fu

(Note: I still miss four or five fics to complete the list and it's already december, but I swear I will finish them soon. Forgive my laziness, I'm so much ashamed T-T)

Mind breaking

Xie Lian was a beautiful angel, held captive by the King of demons as a war prize. He could be free only if he managed to make the devil bleed and only God knew how many times he tried to stab him with a blade, but he always failed. No matter how quick Xie Lian was, the King was faster to stop his attacks.

One day, the devil asked him:”Why are you trying so hard to break free? Wouldn’t you stay better here? Everyday I make you delicious meals, so tasteful that anyone would kill for them, you sleep on the softest mattress with the warmest blanket. You are wrong if you think that I treat in this way every prisoner”.

True, for some reason that devil treated him like an esteemed guest instead of a prisoner, but that prideful angel didn’t want that: he wanted to go back to Heaven, where his friends were. When he answered in that way, the King gazed at him:”You want to return in a place where your own friends despize you? They don’t give a fuck about you. Have you ever wondered why nobody came here to save you? You deserve more than a bunch of filthy ungrateful people”.

Xie Lian creved to not believe him, but he dreadful feeling that the devil was right slithered in his mind. His companions had stopped seeing him as such since when he fell in love with a human. When his secret was found out, the human disappeared from the Earth and Xie Lian became an emarginate.

That night, the angel dreamed of Heaven and his old friends. They were around a table, their expressions were deadly serious. "We are not going to save him. We are lucky that the Demon King was satisfied with only Xie Lian as a hostage, we won't rescue him! Heaven won't risk another war for… For a scum like him!" Mu Qing's face was twisted by rage, "I'm sure he's enjoying his time there: he's well fed and treated. Probably he's spreading his legs to the Demon King to receive this kind of treatment" he continued. Shi Qingxuan protested:"You are lying, he wouldn't do such a thing!". An angel showed a picture of Xie Lian lying in a comfortable bed, the sheets made of silk, covered his body, but everybody could see that his complexion was healthier. Shi Qingxuan couldn't believe his eyes. In the first war against the Demon King, thirty three angels were captured and many people told they heard their screams from Hell. Hua Cheng was ruthless, he didn't know what mercy was. How did Xie Lian manage to receive such a luxurious treatment? "How can you explain this?" Feng Xin rhetorically asked and Shi Qingxuan couldn't find the words to defend his friend.

Xie Lian woke up, the tears rolled down his cheeks. He knew that the chances of being saved were really low, but he could hope. Now, that even that hope was shattered, there was nothing left to cling to. He took the blade in his hand, determined to win the challenges.

The King was sleeping on the throne. His defences were utterly lowered and the angel knew that another opportunity as perfect as that, it wouldn't show up anytime soon. In his naiveness, he didn't consider that it could have been a trap.

He threw himself in a frontal attack, convinced that it would be enough, but the blade was stopped a few inches from the chest and the Devil had his eyes opened. Hua Cheng's hand was firm, holding the knife with bare fingers. Of course, it was a trap. Xie Lian should have considered that possibility sooner! Now it was too late: his only weapon was useless -held in a firm grip, Xie Lian couldn't move it- and he was sitting on the Devil's leg. If the King wanted to stab him, the angel didn’t have any way to defend himself.

But Hua Cheng didn't have any intention of harming his guest. He twisted a lock of the angel’s hair around a finger:“That's a shame, you were so close this time. I didn’t know you were so bold to sit on my lap:"That's a shame, you were so close this time. I didn’t know you were so bold to sit on my lap so casually". The demon's hand left the blade, arriving on the thin wrist. "Let go the blade, little angel, today you lost, you can always retry tomorrow" he said, but the angel opposed:"I'll do it when you'll release my wrist".

The grip became more tight and painful, the bones creaked and the angel let out a stiffened groan of pain. "I can easily break your bones, don't force me: let go the blade. It would be easier for you if you followed my directions” the Demon King cooed with a seductive voice. He meant more than than, suggesting Xie Lian to forsake any reluctance to yield to

Hua Cheng, so that he could receive anything the King wanted to give him. But the angel didn’t understand it and he refused to surrender.

If the King tightened his grip, Xie Lian’s wrist would break. Hua Cheng didn’t want to hurt him in any way, but if the angel refused to listen to him, he had no other choice. In the room echoed the sound of a bone breaking and just then the angel let the knife go.

Hua Cheng kissed him on the lips, encircling the angel’s neck with his arms, and Xie Lian bit his lips, making them bleed. The King chuckled, amused by his resistance, but he soon became serious again. “Why are you so fierce with me? The last time I touched you, you were so enthusiastic in your surrender to me” he said and Xie Lian protested:”Don’t speak no sense! I have never had such a deep relationship with you!”.

Then Hua Cheng whispered:”Are you sure, Dianxia?”. As soon as the angel heard that name, he froze“San Lan? Are you San Lan? I thought they killed you, you disappeared without a trace and… and…”. Xie Lian didn’t know what to say: how many centuries had passed since he heard his lover’s name. He almost forgot how his voice sounded.

“Yes, it’s me” San Lang smiled genuinely and Xie Lian was charmed. Before he could notice, Hua Cheng’s hand slipped inside the angel’s clothes and Xie Lian gasped surprised, shivering. It had been so long from the last time the angel was touched in this way. This time, when Xie Lian leaned in, the angel accepted the kiss, responding enthusiastically. Hua Cheng undid Xie Lian’s vest, already half torn, and the angel passed the fingers on his chest to have something to cling on when cold fingers grabbed his buttocks. The white cloth had many holes, so it was easy for Hua Cheng.

“San Lan” the angel moaned when the Demon King started to knead the soft flesh, “let’s take these activities to the bedroom” he continued. The King smiled: no matter how many time passed since their last reunion, because his lover was always the same. Shy, gracious and composed. A true angel. “Don’t fear, Dianxia: if someone breaks in during our reunion, I won’t let him survive” Hua Cheng said.

This time, when Xie Lian leaned in, the angel accepted the kiss, responding enthusiastically. Hua Cheng undid Xie Lian’s vest, already half torn, and the angel passed the fingers on his chest to have something to cling on when cold fingers grabbed his buttocks. The white cloth had many holes, so it was easy for Hua Cheng.

Hua Cheng stimulated the nub until they were swollen and perky. A small friction was all it took for Xie Lian to moan softly, trembling in his arms. For how much angels exuded chastity and purity, they couldn’t do anything against the carnal pleasure. Xie Lian was so beautiful; his chest and abdomen were marked by red signs, his nipples were wet and erect and Xie Lian’s eyes gleamed from the unshed tears. Everything about him screamed that he was Hua Cheng’s possession and the demon was really pleased. The angel’s mind couldn’t think straight, yet the demon wanted to see Xie Lian more lost in pleasure.

Hua Cheng lapped a finger and it grazed the soft skin close to Xie Lian’s hole. The angel squirmed, feeling a little uncomfortable:”San Lang, it has been many time since the last time and…”, but the demon silenced him with a phrase:”Dianxia, do you remember how good you were feeling when I was inside you”.

He distracted the angel with a kiss and he pushed the finger up to the second knuckle, then he stopped when Xie Lian tensed. So many time had passed since the last time they did it, tha Hua Cheng treated Xie Lian as if it was their first time together. After all, he was sure that Xie Lian didn’t touch himself, he was too shy, and if even he had tried to, Hua Cheng trained the angel’s body so that it responded only to his stimulations and none else.

When he was sure that the angel’s tight ass was ready to receive more, the King continued, until it was fully inside. He began to move his finger in and out slowly, dragging it against the sensitive walls.

Xie Lian was trembling against him and, as soon as he felt one finger was going smoothly, Hua Cheng began to press another inside. The angel moaned sinfully as the demon spread them inside him.

The king wanted to kiss him, but a bigger part of him wanted that all the inhabitants of the castle could hear Xie Lian’s loud groans, so that everybody knew how sweetly the angel surrendered himself to the demon’s caresses.

He crooked his fingers, knowing what to do to make his angel scream and his actions were rewarded with the sounds of pleasure coming from Xie Lian’s throat. “AH!” Xie Lian cried, “It’s okay. Did that feel good?”. Of course the angel would have screamed when the demon touched the prostate. He was so beautiful: Xie Lian’s cheeks were flushed and around his waist laid pieces of white clothes, last vestiges of his tainted purity. Making an angel fall never looked so beautiful

Hua Cheng moved his fingers in and out, trying to hit that spot again and his lover was whimpering. Xie Lian’s breath hitched when he started to press a third finger against his hole. Then he started to move, in a contained way at the beginning, but then he increased the speed, recognizing Xie Lian’s loosened hole.

Each thrust was firm and each new movement was more profound than the last, and soon Xie Lian had became a feverish mess on his arms. The angel’s body was trembling so much and then a particular thrust sent him over the edge. The angel lost the total and complete notion of everything that wasn’t Hua Cheng.

“You did so well, my angel” the King praised him. Hua Cheng knew that after this Xie Lian would have fallen as an angel and that he was not going to be accepted in Heaven, but it wasn't assured that he would have stayed with him. The demon gazed at the bleeding hand, the one who grabbed the blade. No, he had to completely break the angel’s mind, so that he could only think about him. He knew what to do.

“You took my fingers so well Dianxia” he whispered hoarsely close to the ear, “You moved so well that I was tempted to use my dick. I can only imagine how beautiful you’d look as you ride my cock”. He wanted to add that the way Xie Lian moved was the same as a slut, but he restrained himself: his purpose was to break the angel’s mind, not destroy him. Eventually he would have completely depended on Hua Cheng, but it was a gradual and slow process.

He telepathically called one of his retainers, ordering him to come into the throne room. After a few seconds he was there and the King continued with his plan. He removed the fingers from the angel’s body and the other whined loudly. The retainer’s face was red due to the embarrassment, yet he didn’t tear the gaze away.

Of course, his lover was so beautiful that it was impossible to not look at him. “San Lang, is someone inside?” the angel looked half panicated at the demon when he saw that Hua Cheng wasn’t looking at him. But the King held his head in the hands, so that he couldn’t turn over.

He kissed him, kneading the cheeks of Xie Lian's ass, pleased with the groans that escaped from his throat. Now the head of Hua Cheng’s cock was pressing lightly against his hole and he entered in a swift thrust. The angel gasped, searching for hair. The feeling was completely different.

Hua Cheng groaned feeling how tight Xie Lian was. “So good” he whispered and when he gazed at the angel on his lap, he noticed how he was already lost in pleasure. He understood that he was close to his purpose when his lover pushed his tongue into Hua Cheng’s mouth in a passionate kiss.

He was clutching at Xie Lian’s waist, sure of leaving marks on his skin. His lover tried to roll his hips and the demon’s dick became bigger. Xie Lian moaned loudly at the feeling and the King pushed up until he impaled his lover in one quick movement. They cried out together.

Xie Lian screamed in pleasure and Hua Cheng knew he must have found his prostate again and he tried to thrust up and aim for that spot. “San Lang! Please, please, please!” the angel begged, fully captured.

Hua Cheng pushed up as hard as he could and Xie Lian shouted in pleasure. “You’re so gorgeous, so tight. You take me so well” he whispered and the angel let out a strangled moan. The king set up a quick pace as he fucked him. Pleasure was building inside them and they clenched their eyes shut as they moaned.

The angel pleaded:”San Lang, come inside me!”. And the devil smirked: the moment he had waited had finally come. Now Xie Lian couldn’t have a coherent thought: the demon could say everything he wanted and he would have accepted everything he told him. Hua Cheng was still so amazed: Xie Lian was like this, pleasured and begging to be fucked, because of him.

“If you want to come, you have to answer to my questions first” the King warned and the angel nodded. Probably Xie Lian’s only thought was focused on coming and Hua Cheng was going to take advantage of that. “Who do you belong to?” was the first question and he purposely slowed down, “I belong to you, San Lan. I love you, you are my everything” the angel cried out. The demon rewarded him with a thrust on the prostate as Xie Lian continued:”You are everything that I have, please, don’t leave me. I can’t survive without you”. “Yes, I’m everything you have. I won’t leave you. Are you enjoying this?” Hua Cheng nodded, the angel screamed:”Yes, I am. I love everything you do to me”.

“Mn, your insides are taking my dick so well. If someone’d see you right now, they wouldn’t believe you are an angel. In truth, your body reacts so well to mine. A-ha! You are made to take my dick inside you, you are my lover, I won’t leave you to anyone” he said and the angel screamed in affirmation.

He began to thrust as hard as he could into that perfect body. He chanted Xie Lian’s name and the angel cried out, clenching around him so tightly. Hua Cheng groaned as he thrust in one last time, releasing deep inside the angel, marking him his. His lover collapsed heavily on his chest and the king leaned forward to press a kiss against Xie Lian’s sweaty forehead.

Hua Cheng didn’t wait and he pushed one more time his dick into Xie Lian’s ass and the angel groaned for the excessive stimulation. “San… San Lang, it hurts” he moaned, but the devil, adapting a gentler pace, reassured him:”Soon the pain will disappear, don’t fear Dianxia. I’m not finished yet”.

Then they both heard a third moan in the room and Xie Lian turned his head. In front of him there was a demon that watched them, his hand was massaging his cock and from his reddened face, the angel deduced he already came. How long did he stand there?

He tried to cover himself, but Hue Cheng turned his whole body, so that the retainer could see everything. “San Lang, do something. You said that…” he started to complain, but his voice was cut off by a groan of pleasure. The King started to move once again.

He talked directly to the angel’s ear, ignoring his voice:”Do you see that man, Dianxia? He has been there since the start of our performance. You know what it means, right? He heard you moan like a slut for my cock and he saw how eagerly you took me inside of you”.

A wave of shame overwhelmed the angel, who cried:”But you said that nobody could enter here. If you knew he was there, why didn’t you send him away?” and the demon chuckled darkly:”Because it was I who was the one who called him, Dianxia. I wanted him to see that you are made to take me inside you, like a slut. Do you see his red cheeks? Seeing you as you pleasured yourself on me aroused him. Look how you make people feel”.

Xie Liang felt betrayed and the only thing he wanted to do was curl up and hide himself, but he did what Hua Cheng asked. The demon in front of them was still massaging the cock with his hand, a white liquid dirtied his clothes. The angel was embarrassed, yuet he couldn’t tear away the gaze.

“Do you like what you see?” the King talked directly to his retainer and the lower demon answered:”Yes, I really like it. His highness is so beautiful”. “Do you like to be at my place” he wondered and the other answered:”Yes, I’d really like it”. The retainer recognized his mistake too late and in the next second he exploded.

The angel widened his eyes in shock, but he couldn’t focus on the corpse, not when the demon pounched the sensitive spot inside of him. He was seeing the stars and soon the pleasure clouded his mind. “I told you: if someone would have seen you like this, I wouldn’t let him survive. You are mine. Mine to reclaim, mine to worship, mine to kiss” Hua Cheng growled.

Xie Lian felt better as soon as the voyeur died, but he still wanted to scream to the King's face. He wanted to run away, but whereto? He had no place to go. The only person who loved him was in front of his eyes. A second thought passed in his mind. Why did he want to leave San Lang? In the brief time he spent in Hell, he was treated like a princess, even Hua Cheng said: you just have to surrender to my love, focus only on me. I can give you everything you want.

The King knew he won when Xie Lian turned his head to kiss him. “I love you, San Lang. Make me yours. Turn me in whatever you want, I don’t care if I can stay to your side” he groaned as he felt his orgasm closer. The King murmured:”I love you too, Dianxia. Seeing you so enthusiastic to stay here makes me so happy”. And with a last thrust he came another time and Xie Lian followed him.

Hours after, Hua Cheng was caressing the hair of his lover as he slept on his lap. He was so tired after the multiple rounds that he started to cry and only then the demon let him rest. Having more stamina, he wanted to continue, but he decided to stop: there would be time to quench his thirst. Finally, after so many centuries, they were together once again. Hua Cheng would not have allowed anyone to take his lover away from him. Since that moment he would have started to shape Xie Lian’s personality and behavior until he was a pampered and cherished doll, unable to do anything on his own.

[btsslowburnfic]

Chthonic Love Chapter 3

Series Summary: Greek AU Yoongi/Hades x You/Persephone.  The Olympic Lord, Namjoon kidnaps you as a "gift" for his brother, ruler of the Underworld. Lord of Death: Yoongi.

Previous Chapter: Chapter 2

“Dear Hoseok,

I am sure you are quite worried about me and so I firstly want you to know that, all things considered, I am ok. Zeus brought me to the Underworld and Lord Yoongi has been a very gracious host. I’ve heard you lost a bet? I need to know what in Olympus happened so I can disentangle myself from any terms you have entered me into. Maybe now you’ll listen to me when I tell you to stop messing with the Olympians.

--Persephone”

You folded the letter and looked around for an envelope. You didn’t see any on the desk so you left and walked over to the door. You opened it and poked your head out to see if Yoongi was out there, but he wasn't. Feeling disappointed and not really wanting to go back to your cold, boring chamber, you turned back into the office. It was much warmer there than the rest of the castle. You appraised the room once more; you tried to remember what all you had heard about Lord Yoongi before today and you realized: not a whole lot. He seemed nice enough, just lightly annoyed that you were here. But if someone had dropped a person off in your house unexpectedly you would also be irritated.

You walked along one of the many bookcases and pulled out a few different books, perusing their covers. Some seem to be journals and you put those back, not wanting to be rude. A few of them have musical notes written in them, you turned your head towards the back of the office, noticing the Lyre and Harpsicord one again. Yoongi must play at least one of them. You continue to browse the shelves, finally finding a small book labeled, “Underworld Compendium.” You take it over to the pile of furs you had made earlier and settle in for some reading.

In the beginning there was Darkness. Before the brothers were Kings of the Realm, they were slaves to their father: Cronus. Cronus, not wanting to share any of his power, swallowed each of his sons, keeping them in interminable darkness and pain. Finally, their mother was able to spare a child: Zeus. Zeus led the charge against Cronus and the other Titans, and in his surprise, the enslaved children were accidentally released. The Titan Wars were waged for decades: Olympians versus Titans. Finally, Cronus was destroyed. The realms were divided amongst those sons who fought in the Titan Wars. Namjoon, who the mortals worship as Zeus, wanted Olympus and ascended to his throne with great fanfare and a feast that lasted for 40 days and 40 nights. Jin, Poseidon, enjoyed splashing in the waves and playing with the animals of the sea. Yoongi, Hades, traveled down from Olympus, through the Earth, Through the sea, and arrived at the Underworld.

GEOGRAPHY

The Underworld is comprised of many subsections. At the center of it lies the Obsidian Palace. Hewn into the very core of the Underworld, it is a sight to behold, visible from Erebos all the way to Oceanus. Surrounding the Obsidian Palace is the Desert of Sorrow, bordered by the Stygian Sea to the South….

You yawned and sat the book facedown on the furs. You found the book interesting, you really did, but between the warm fire and the crying earlier, your eyelids grew heavy. You decided to lay down for just a moment and before you knew it, Hypnos was proverbially knocking on your door.

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

Yoongi had left you to write your letter in private. He’d deliver it to Charon either tonight or tomorrow. To his surprise, he wasn’t as annoyed by your presence as he thought he would be. He started to wonder when the last time he had talked to a person? He occasionally would speak to Penthos, but considering every day was the same, there wasn’t really much to say.

He walked down the hallway and heard voices speaking in a hushed tone.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure she’ll be leaving soon. She seems so nice. I don’t know what your problem is.” It was Lethe.

“She just walks in and acts like she owns the damned place,” Yoongi heard Penthos harshly retort.

Lethe laughed, “She’s a Goddess. The fact she didn’t disembowel you for speaking to her without being spoken to is really something. It’s clear you've never served in any other courts before. While Lord Yoongi is a quiet God, he’s a million times better than most of them.”

Penthos sighed, “I suppose you’re right about that. I’ll see you later.”

Yoongi waited a few seconds and then rounded the corner, he put his hands on his hips, “Lethe, Just the person I wanted to see.”

Lethe froze at first, clearly surprised. After a few seconds, she turned around, bowing slightly, “Yes, my Lord?”

“What room did you end up taking Lady Persephone to?”

“Uh…” she faltered for a moment, wringing her hands.

“I know you didn’t actually put her out in the furthest corner of the palace. It’s fine.”

She let out a deep breath, “She’s staying in the room with the quicksilver door. And I’m sorry she wandered around the castle. I didn’t know if she was supposed to stay in her room or if I was supposed to lock her up. Even though I don’t have a key. I really should have asked first but I didn’t,” Lethe rambled.

“Lethe, it's OK . She’s not a prisoner here, it’s fine.” Yoongi gave a rare smile to reassure her.

“Ok, thank you sir.” she visibly relaxed. “Do you need anything?”

“Just make sure Lady Persephone is comfortable while she is staying here. I’m not sure how long she will be staying, but consider yourself her attendant while she is here.”

Lethe was visibly surprised, “Yes, m’lord.”

This is what I get for complaining that things were too boring. He thought to himself.I’m just glad she’s calmed down. Crying women terrify me. Yoongi continued down the hallway to the furthest wing of the castle. He approached a large set of Enchanted doors. He raised his hands to the sigils and unlocked them. You can’t be too careful. He crossed the antechamber, twisting through another hallway, and finally down a staircase he hadn’t used in decades. He conjured a blue flame to light his path. The air had turned heavy and acrid in the absence of any fresh air. He continued until he arrived at the bottom of the staircase where the floor was dirt. He took a few steps into the small room which connected to the catacombs through various tunnels. He waited several moments before he heard the scratching sound begin against the wall. The sound came closer, accompanied by a clicking noise.

A voice that sounded like something being stretched uncomfortably over a wringer called out in the darkness. “Lord Yoongi. It’s been so long. What does the Lord of the Underworld require?”

Yoongi looked almost bored as the creature climbed closer; its hundreds of black eyes reflected his blue flame.

“Hello Arachne. How are the catacombs?”

“Such a kind Lord. Asking Arachne about the catacombs. This is why you’re my favorite.”

“The catacombs?”

“Fine my Lord. You know we keep the others down here. Its is our privilege to serve the Underworld.” she replies in her raspy voice. Dozens of smaller spiders have started to enter the chamber. Arachne’s children crawl over the walls, eager to catch a rare glimpse of the ruler of the underworld.

Yoongi turned his gaze back to Arachne’s eyes, “Clothes, Arachne. I need dresses. Nice ones, suitable for a Lady.”

The creature let out a cacophonous sound like gnashing teeth. “Oh? Is there a Lady of the Underworld now? I haven’t sewn a wedding dress in centuries.”

Yoongi sighed. He hated dealing with Arachne. Being a gossip is what caused Athena to turn her into a spider in the first place. “No Arachne. Just a visiting Lady who didn’t pack enough. A few normal dresses. No wedding dresses.”

He heard a small wailing sound and watched her pincers quiver, “But I want to make beautiful clothes again. The Underworld needs a Lady for me to dress, and then children to dress. I’ve taught my children to sew, did you know that?” Arachne sounds almost human again as she becomes increasingly excited.

“No. No.” he holds his hand up, glad the darkness is hiding his red cheeks, a mixture of embarrassment and anger coloring his face. He’s becoming sick of others telling him he needs a companion. “Just normal dresses. That’s all”

He heard a collective whining sound from all the spiders, “Very well Lord Yoongi, what colors should they be.”

Yoongi was already turning around and walking towards the door, “You’re the stylist not me. Nice normal dresses Arachne!” He went back up the stairs and straightened his jacket once he arrived on the other side of the locked doors. Arachne would have those clothes done in no time. The poor Spider-Woman had nothing else to do, just decorating the Underworld’s cave system with things people would never see. Yoongi had invited her to come up to the main part of the palace when she first arrived, but she had balked saying it was “too bright” and that “nobody wanted to see a monster.”

He wondered what you were up to. He imagined you had probably finished your letter and were poking your head around the castle some more. He found himself smiling as he walked up the staircase to his office. He opened the door and saw you fast asleep in front of the fireplace. He brought his hand to his mouth and entered the room as quietly as possible, not wanting this moment to end. He tried to decide if he should stay or leave. Instead he found himself just staring at you. You were very pretty. Not in an unnatural way like the other Goddesses he had met, just pretty. He walked across the room and saw You were clutching a book. He knelt down to see what book you had ended up with. Yoongi gently removed it from beneath your arm and ran a finger down the spine. “Underworld Compendium.” A good book. He should know, he wrote it. He grabbed a scrap of paper and marked where you had it open and sat it down next to you.

He walked over to his desk and saw the letter you had written your brother. He imagines that it said “Please come rescue me, I’m being forced to stay with a monster and pretend to be nice to him.” He really wanted to look but knew he shouldn’t. He heard you stir a little and watched you throw an arm over your eyes. Yoongi raised a hand towards the flames, dimming the lights in the room. He looked at the letter again and decided to read it. He took a breath and flipped it open. He read it quickly. It’s a very short letter. He propped his elbows on his desk and held his head in his hands for a moment. He was also eager to see what your brother’s response would be. He thought about writing his own letter but somehow “you fucked up and now I own your sister,” seemed like a bad idea. His nose twitched. He smelled a faint floral scent and looked up. Flowers had started to bloom in a bowl on his desk.

“What the hell is this?” he asked. He heard a faint moaning come from in front of the fireplace, another flower bud appeared. Yoongi felt his face grow warm. He tapped on his Hourglass, watching the sand swirl.

He pulled out one of his journals and began to write in it. He became lost in his own thoughts for a while, the crackling of the fireplace and your light breathing the only sounds. It was soothing in a way he had never felt before.

When he looked up again his desk was covered in flowers. He laughed lightly and heard you start to awaken.

You stretched your arms above your head. Where were you again? You felt the warm fire on your back and slowly opened your eyes. You saw Lord Yoongi sitting at his desk. His eyes flicked over towards you and you suddenly felt very embarrassed. “Sorry. I meant to just rest my eyes,” you said as you sat up. “I hope I didn’t snore too much.”

To your shock he laughs, his deep voice echoing. “Just a little bit. You did make quite the garden here though,” he gestures to his desk which is covered in chrysanthemums.

You blush “Sorry, it happens sometimes. My powers sometimes do their own thing when I'm sleeping or sick. Fortunately, other than making people sneeze, it’s not that bad.” He clearly doesn’t know the meaning behind flowers and you hope he doesn’t look it up any time soon.

You stood up, rubbing your hands up and down your arms at the loss of direct heat from the fireplace.

"it's fine I uh," he runs his tongue along his lower lip, "just didn't know flowers could bloom in the underworld. I've never seen them here."

You laugh a little, "Well apparently they can when the Goddess of Spring is here. Speaking of, when is the next time Charon will be arriving?"

Yoongi moved the hourglass on his desk and looked into it. To you it appeared as though nothing was happening, the sand suspended in between the top and bottom, but he appraised it carefully as though he was reading it.

"Soon," he stood up, pulling his shirt down straight. He pulled an envelope out of the desk drawer and placed your letter inside.

You walked over to the desk to gather the flowers. “Sorry, I’ll just--”

"No. Leave them." he said

You thought maybe he would say more about it but he doesn't. He walked to the back corner of the room and grabbed a cloak.

"Can I come with you?" you asked him

"You don't trust me to deliver it?" he responded harshly.

You feel sad that that's what he thought, your gaze traveled to the floor, "No. I just saw the sea earlier and it looked pretty. And I really don't want to be alone in this giant Palace."

His features immediately softened. "Oh. Ok. Hmm. Hold on." he walks over to you with his cloak and puts it around you, carefully fastening it below your neck. "Here. It's colder out there than it looks."

"Won't you be cold?" you asked in disbelief at how quickly his moods could change.

He shrugged and picked up your letter. "I'm used to it. Don't worry about me."

"I can just stay here…"

"No, let's go." he said and opened the door, motioning for you to go through it. 

 NEXT  CHAPTER

[btxtreads]

whispers || min yoongi (4)

CHAPTER FOUR

➳ Fate is such a fickle thing. So easy to tamper with.

↳ Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Based off of the Daechwita MV)

↳ word count: 2.4k words

↳ rating: PG-13

↳ genre: fluff, angst, historical AU

↳ Warnings: Swords, Death, A gun, Battle Scenes, Forced Engagement, Failed Execution, Assassination

↳Trigger warning note: PLEASE BE CAREFUL IN READING THIS FIC. IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY THE THINGS LISTED ABOVE–PLEASE DO NOT PROCEED UNDER THE KEEP READING SIGN.

↳Note: It’s a prank, here’s the LAST CHAPTER!

“My, my. What a big surprise.”

Yoongi raised his head from the ground, a harsh glare on the man standing in front of him.

The man in front of him was decked out in a silky black hanbok with gold details and a malicious grin.

Yoongi frowned and glared at the mad emperor who possessed the same face as him.

“Well, hello there.”

Guards entered his cells and roughly sat him up to shove him towards the emperor, who only sneered down at him.

“Yunki.” Yoongi hissed out, pain from his bruised ribs and maybe one or two broken bones getting the best of him.

“Don’t you look dashing.”

“I… look exactly like… you.”

“Exactly.” Yunki laughed and lightly jabbed his foot onto Yoongi’s broken ribs.

“Narci…sisstic… bastard…”

“It was called for—We are handsome, don’t you agree?” Yunki laughed, leaning down to grasp his face. “Now, let’s do this quick. I have to talk to my bride.”

“Bride?”

“Y/N of Baekje, my new bride. It’ll be a beautiful wedding.” Yunki assured and smirked. “Not that you’ll live long enough to see it.”

Yoongi let out a small growl.

“Very well, enough chatter,” Yunki shook his head as he gripped Yoongi’s face tightly. “You tried to kill me, you killed the Gongju of Baekje. Tell me—who do you work for?”

“I’m… not… saying shit…”

“Who,” Yunki hissed levelling his face onto the man, who only glowered back. “do you work for?”

Yoongi spit directly onto the emperor’s face, causing Yunki to punch him.

On the floor, Yoongi groaned out. “Fuck... you…”

Yunki rolled his eyes and stood as a guard stepped forward and offered a cloth, to which Yunki used to wipe his face.

“What a waste to ruin such a beautiful face.” Yunki ticked his tounge as he shook his head and left the cell. “Lock him in the cell. We’ll do the beheading ritual first thing tomorrow.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

Then Yoongi was alone, sitting in front of a small window in a cell—waiting to die the next morning.

It was after a few hours into the dead of night before someone opened the door once more and soft footsteps approached his cell.

Yoongi lifted his head, gaping as Y/N appeared.

“Y/N,”

“Yoongi,” she gasped, holding a hand to her mouth. “I-I met the king for the first time and… he looks exactly like you. Then, I heard a prisoner in the dungeons looked exactly like him… It’s you.”

Yoongi smiled as the girl panicked. “Hi,”

Y/N pursed her lips and approached the cell. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I think.” Yoongi replied, standing up and walking closer.

“Are you?” She whispered, a hand reaching inside the cells to cradle his face—moonlight her only source of light to guide her. “What did he do?”

“Just a couple of bruises, nothing I can’t handle.” Yoongi whispered, smiling as she pressed herself to the cell.

The gaps were big enough for her head to pass through.

“You’re hurt,” She whispered, running a finger on his cheek. “I don’t like seeing you hurt.”

Yoongi, having no reply, only leaned his head forward to land a kiss on her lips and his hand secure on her waist.

Y/N tightened her grip on his face as she responded to the kiss, pulling away with a soft sigh. “Better than his.”

“Did he kiss you, too?” Yoongi asked, tucking her hair behind her ear. “He told me—about how you were going to marry him, I mean.”

Y/N only smiled sadly at him. “I didn’t really find out until he told me earlier.”

Yoongi sighed and kissed her forehead before leaning back to admire her once more.

“Yoongi, tell me one thing.” Y/N started, her hand reaching up to clutch his on her cheek. “Who exactly are you?”

Yoongi frowned, staying silent.

“It’s just… you never told me. I don’t know where you came from, what culture you know, what kind of things you’re used to,” Y/N frowned, turning to place a kiss on his palm. “I want to know,”

Yoongi only sighed, releasing the girl and turning away.

He threw his head back. “This wasn’t supposed to happen, you know,”

“What do you mean, Yoongi?”

“I was always in and out—I never even talked to anyone until I needed to.”

Y/N scrunched her eyebrows in confusion, pulling away.

Yoongi gulped and took her hand. “Y/N… I’m… We call ourselves the whispers.”

“Whisper?”

“We… We go through time and fix fate. I-I came here to kill Yunki—that’s why you kept seeing me around.”

Y/N pursed her lips as Yoongi reached over and grasped her hand, continuing. “I was sent here because Yunki should not have been emperor—he should have died at a young age. Sun should have married Yunki’s father instead and gave birth to the new Goguryeo emperor. You should have been the empress of Baekje, and became the wife of Jimin and gave birth to the new Baekje emperor but…”

Y/N’s mind ran a mile a minute before she shuddered out a breath. “You-You came here to fix destiny?”

“Yes.”

“That’s not possible—I…”

“It is, love.”

Y/N stayed silent before shaking her head.

“Then-then… You ruined my family?” Y/N gasped, ripping her hand from Yoongi’s grasp. “Yunki would have married Sun, and she would have been happy. Father would still be alive—”

“The pillage would have happened without me here,” Yoongi shook his head, reaching out to hold her hand once more. “Y/N, please.”

“Who else are you here to kill?” Y/N asked after a beat.

“Just Yunki.”

“Kill Yunki and ruin the country?” Y/N continued.

“I’m saving history.” Yoongi explained, kissing her hand.

“What happens after that?”

“I don’t know.” Yoongi said sadly.

“I-I have to go.”

Yoongi tried to place another kiss on her hand but she pulled away.

“I need some time; I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Then, Y/N left too.

He sat down and leaned back on the floor, sighing as his head hit the wall.

He’ll be dead by dawn.

“Y/N, wake up!”

Y/N shot awake in surprise as her eyes adjusted to the moonlight streaming from the gap in the window.

“Jimin?”

“You have to wake up, come on.”

“Why?”

“The prisoner you went to, the one who looked like the king that you wanted to talk to last night?” Jimin rushed Y/N. “He’s getting beheaded today.”

“He’s getting behea—"

“Yes! Now, stop talking and get ready!” Jimin hissed as Y/N pulled on her footwear and grabbed an outer coat. “I saw him bound and headed for the courtyard. Namjoon told me to get you out.”

The pair rushed out of her room, but before Jimin can escort her out, Y/N dashed over to the courtyard and skidded to a stop behind Yunki’s throne.

“Y/N!” Jimin hissed as he stopped, gaping at the scene.

Y/N let out a gasp as she saw Yoongi on his knees, blindfolded in the courtyard in front of an executioner.

“Y/N!” Jimin hissed as he stopped, gaping at the scene.

At this, Yunki turned to see the two people behind him.

“Y/N, my princess,” Yunki drawled from his throne in the balcony. “you should still be asleep.”

Yoongi’s head snapped to the sound of his voice. “Y/N?”

The executioner turned, his face familiar.

“Namjoon!” Y/N screamed. “Please!”

Namjoon lowered his head and turned back to Yoongi.

Yunki raised his eyebrow as Y/N shook in her place.

“Y-Yunki,” she mumbled in fear. “You-You can’t behead him!”

“You need not concern yourself with tedious affairs such as these—”

“You can’t kill him!” Y/N replied, her eyes darting back and for the between the kneeling form of her lover and her tyrannical husband-to-be.

“Why not?” Yunki asked, tilting his head. “He tried to kill me, he killed your sister.”

“He didn’t kill my sister!” Y/N spat angrily. “A Silla Soldier did! Yoongi saved me from the same fate.”

“Fate, what a fickle thing. So easy to tamper with.” Yunki scoffed.

“Is it?” Jimin said, his hand tightly grasping Y/N’s arms.

“I defied fate years ago, just like you did a few days back, princess. This boy did not save you, you saved yourself.” Yunki replied.

“No, Yoongi’s here to fix things.” Y/N gasped in horror.

Y/N whimpered as Jimin started to pull her away from the king.

“Y/N, we have to go.”

“No, I can’t—I can’t leave him.”

“Y/N,”

“He’s the only thing I have left—please. I-I love him. Please!”

“Do it now.” Yunki’s harsh voice sounded, a glare in directed in Y/N’s direction.

“No, please! Namjoon, You can’t do this! I love him! Please!” Y/N thrashed. “Namjoon, stop! Yoongi!”

Jimin started to pull her in the building when she heard Namjoon’s sword swoop in the air and a body thud on the ground.

Y/N pulled herself out of Jimin’s grasp and ran back out, collapsing on the floor.

Jimin ran forward and, harshly dragged her away from the scene just as Yoongi pushed himself off the floor.

As they reached the courtyard, Jimin calmed the girl. “We just needed to get away,”

“What?”

Yoongi huffed, frowning as he pulled off his blindfold and glared at the king.

Namjoon, still in front of him, pulled out a big red box.

He pulled out Yoongi’s green coat—the one Y/N left in her room.

Y/N gasped as Namjoon smiled at her, handing it back to Yoongi.

“What is this?” Yunki hissed, standing up. “Treachery! This is treachery.”

Y/N opened her mouth as Yoongi pulled out his hand gun from the coat.

“Heads off to all five of you—including the gongju!”

Unbothered, Yoongi walked forward and aimed.

Yunki took his sword. “I will cut your heads off mys—”

Yoongi pulled the trigger—and the blonde man crumpled to the floor with a bullet on his forehead.

Y/N gasped at the loud sound of the gun—so did Jimin and Namjoon.

Yoongi set his gun aside and nodded at the men. “Thank you for all your help, Jimin and Namjoon.”

Y/N’s eyes welled up with tears as she shot forward to engulf the man in an embrace. “Yoongi!”

Yoongi set his gun down and opened his arms, engulfing the girl in his arms. “Y/N,”

“You’re not dead,” she sobbed, burying her face in his chest.

He chuckled. “No, I’m not dead.”

“You still have a head.”

“It’s a pretty head, don’t you think?”

Y/N laughed through her tears, leaning forward and kissing him.

Yoongi breathed out, his hands tightly clutching hers as he responded passionately.

Y/N pulled away, smiling as Yoongi brushed her tears away.

“Hello,”

“Hey,” Yoongi chuckled once more as Y/N brushed her lips against his.

“What now?” she whispers against him. “He’s dead.”

“You marry Jimin. That’s what history said.”

“I don’t want to.” Y/N whispered, looking back at Jimin and Namjoon who were arguing on what to do with Yunki’s body and the kingdom.

“I don’t want you to, either. You’re mine.” Yoongi replied, tucking her hair back.

Y/N smiled and kissed him again.

Yoongi pulled away, revealing his gummy smile. “Come with me.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Maybe Yunki’s right. We can defy fate.” Yoongi said.

“Yunki just died.” Y/N replied.

“Yes, I know. I killed him.”

“So, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, let’s leave together.” Yoongi explained. “Let Namjoon rule Goguryeo, let Jimin rule Baekje. They can and they will—then, come with me.”

Y/N turned to Yoongi.

“Yoongi, they’ll come after us. Whispers, like you.”

“I don’t care.”

Y/N nodded and held his hand.

She turned to the two royal guards, who stood next to the throne.

Yoongi was right.

“Okay,”

Everything was perfect.

Hobi sighed and ran a hand through his hair—his leather jacket out of place in the heat.

“Presenting, the newly crowned Emperor Jimin of Baekje and Emperor Namjoon of Goguryeo!”

Hobi snapped into attention, his hand setting on his gun as he heard the first notes of the Daechwita.

As he started to step towards the sound, his breath was knocked over by a tall, muscled boy who collided with him.

“Prince Jungkook!”

“Can you not call me that, Prince Jin-hyung?” The boy who was on the floor next to Hobi replied with a groan.

“Then don’t call me that!” A frantic voice replied.

“When Emperor Jimin told us that Gongju Y/N acted like Jungkook, was this what she meant?” A gentle voice questioned. “She didn’t seem ill-tempered when we met her.”

“Maybe it’s because both Gongju Y/N and Prince Jungkook doesn’t have self-preservation.” ‘Jin-hyung’ replied.

“Watch where you’re going.” The gentle voice quipped.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Taehyungie-hyung.” The boy quipped before turning over to the man on the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Hobi raised an eyebrow at the muscled boy in front of him—decked in the royal garb of the crown prince.

Oh.

This was Jeon Jungkook, Kim Taehyung and Kim Seokjin—Emperor Namjoon’s adoptive brothers and princes of the new Goguryeo royal line.

Hobi’s mission was to find and eliminate the traitor: Min Yoongi, and fix fate by bringing Empress Y/N back to her proper place in time as the Empress of Baekje.

His eyes darted over to the castle that housed Emperor Jimin and Emperor Namjoon—both of whom last saw the queen and the traitor before they vanished.

Hobi smiled, squaring his shoulders and tilting his head. “It’s no bother.”

“He really doesn’t look in front of him when he’s walking—”

“Hey!”

“He’s all brains and no muscle, so we’re sorry.” Jin continued, ignoring Jungkook.

“That’s alright. It’s nice to meet you, though. I’m Hobi.” Hobi smiled, introducing himself. “Yoongi and Y/N sent me here to tell you guys something.”

Just another mission.

The Missing Baekje Princess

It was said that after her sister and father died, Ongju Y/N was set to marry Emperor Yunki to unite the kingdoms. However, after witnessing King Yunki’s murder, the princess was kidnapped and never to be seen again. Some stories say that she left willingly with her captor. Some sources say that she was taken by an unknown entity that seemed to have taken shape of a man that looked exactly like the deceased king—others would say that she was seduced by a demon. Without anybody in the original bloodline left to rule, Emperor Kim Namjoon ascended to the Goguryeo throne and Emperor Jimin took the throne of the Baekje Kingdom. Up until this day, stories say that the ongju can be seen roaming around with her captor in different parts of the world—a smile in her face before she disappears. She was said to have been wearing the clothes appropriate for her time—with a staple green jacket. Click here to see the list of the latest alleged sightings of the ongju and her captor.

Taglist: @grandqueen1533​

[swanky-batman]

For Narnia! Part 7

Peter Pevensie x Female Reader, Edmund Pevensie x Female Reader

After running away, Y/N is content with being a wildling- but what is Edmund going to do after finding her?

Masterlist  || Ko-Fi

Beginning- Previous- Next

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You stayed with your defenses up, even though there weren't any guards you could spot straight on and he let you have your scarf back up around your head in the back table of this inn.

“How have you been?” He asked, picking up his drink and shifting his eyes over you to assess damage. 

“Free.”

“Ouch. I guess I deserve that. Even if it was Peter’s idea alone.”

“You’re telling me you would have handled things differently?” You smirked, reaching around your cup for his, pushing your cup towards him.

He met your eyes and held them, his face a little hurt. “I thought we got along better than this. You think I’d drug your drink and… what? Drag you back?”

“Who knows what you Pevensies are capable of.” You stated softly, shooting him a hurt look of your own, still taking his cup-downing a large gulp of the beer.

“You have no idea how hard Lucy and Susan, Reep and even Caspian asked Peter to loosen up. That there had to be a mistake.”

You looked at him, searching his face and it softened even more.

“Myself even more. He had to post guards outside of my door to make sure I wouldn’t let you out- or at least see you.” His eyes never left yours. 

You furrowed your brows, looking down at your plate of food and picking at it before taking another drink. “So what happens now? You pretend to let me go and then follow me and get my location to Peter?”

“No. If you really want to run, you can run. I think I have a better proposition for you though.”

You paused, taking another sip. “And what could distract a wildling like me from the wild?”

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“High King Peter-” A guard knocked at his door. As he entered, he began his report, “King Edmund does not seem to be on the grounds. King Caspian has finished with the King. He asks if he should speak with the Prince?”

He rubbed his hand over his chin, “No, I’ll speak with him myself.” He decided, moving from his seat and moving onto the holding cells.

He had him moved to another room, sitting across from him as he was in handcuffs.

“Those won’t be necessary.” Peter nodded towards them, his guard giving him a questioning look but proceeding.

The Prince rubbed his wrists, giving Peter a glance. “So which political secrets would you like to break from me?”

“Tell me of Princess Y/N.” Peter asked softly after a moment.

The Prince’s eyes narrowed, “I will not give you information on her. She has done nothing in this.”

“I am looking to find her.” Peter looked at him, his look a bit more pleading than he would like.

The Prince shook his head, as if deciding whether to speak or not. “I cannot believe my father would put her in danger. I can’t believe he left her with strangers. Political gains through that wonderful-” He cleared his throat. “Through my cousin.”

“From what I hear he wasn’t very fond of her.” Peter offered.

“He thought she was going to take his line up for the throne.” He started, cracking a small grin, “She didn’t want it though. Much to her father’s dismay and my father’s happiness. She said she wouldn’t fit and didn’t know where to start.”

“Carefree wildling.” Peter muttered, breaking into a smile himself.

They both sat, thinking for a few minutes. 

This was not where Peter wanted this conversation to go, “Do you have any ideas which route she would be taking?”

“Even if I did-why would I help the people who kept her captive?” He scoffed.

Peter breathed, he didn’t wish to share his little moment of her. But if he had to share this to see her again, he would. He pulled out his letter from her, slowly pushing it over towards him.

Peter watched his face after he picked it up, apparently recognizing the writing. He seemed to read it and reread it again. “You may not believe me but I care for your cousin. Very deeply.” Peter chose his words carefully.

The Prince put the letter down slowly, clearly thinking about the information he was given.

Peter leaned forward, “Why would your father bring attention to Princess Y/N for traitorous actions?”

He watched as the Prince sat there, breathing and looking a little far off. “The only possible explanation I could think of would be if he was worried about her taking over the Kingdom.” He shook his head, “But I am telling you, my cousin made it quite clear that she wanted no part of politics. She seemed distant in the beginning when I first met her- after all she had been through and just losing her mother I could understand why. Then she fell into… herself.” He grinned to himself, Peter getting flustered. 

He stood up, pacing for a moment, “If you think of anything that would help locate her and you’re willing to share the information, we would appreciate it.” He paused, looking the Prince in the eyes, “I would appreciate it.” He nodded towards him before turning to leave the room.

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Getting back to his room after a long afternoon of commanding search radiuses for parties, there was a knock. “Enter,” Peter turned to find a messenger, seeming to have come from Calormen, escorted by one of his guards.

“My apologies of disturbing your highness but I come with information.”

Peter’s eyes narrowed, “What information?”

--

“She’s what?!” Stormed the King of Calormen, locked away but thrashing.

“You heard the High King,” Caspian boomed, making him still for a moment.

“You have had your fun, you’ve had the King of Calormen in your despicable dungeons for an afternoon. Now release me, before I decide to wage war in all it’s vengeance on Narnia.” He straightened and turned to Peter.

Peter scoffed and turned, “Sounds like you won’t be in charge for long.” Before proceeding to walk out of the room. He stopped at his son’s room next, a more gentle tone coming over him. “Excuse me, Prince Henry-”

“Is there news?” The Prince looked over Peter’s features and sensed something was different.

“It seems that a messenger has been sent to the royal palace and in the absence of the King was read by his highest advisor… Princess Y/N has sent claim for her to be the clear ruler, and legal heir of the previous King, your uncle.”

The Prince’s face dropped, clearly surprised by the information. “And we’re sure it was her?”

“It does seem to be written in her hand.” Peter held up the letter from the messenger, with the letter from the advisor and the original letter attached.

“What is she planning?” He slowly smiled, looking far off for a moment before bowing to Peter, “Thank you for the information, your highness.”

“You are taking this surprisingly well for someone who might lose who he is.” Peter crossed his arms.

“Y/N deserves to stop running. I doubt she has any idea the kind of pressure that would come with the title but… if it were to make her happy, then so be it.” The prince sat, clearly more calm than earlier this afternoon.

“I’m sending out another search party this evening. I am still worried about her safety, now more than before if she is trying for the crown.”

The prince nodded, still in thought. Peter bowed and left the room, still processing the news himself. Arriving for dinner, he was the second to last there.

“Where is Ed?” Peter asked, sitting down at his spot.

“He hasn’t been here-” Started Susan.

“Sorry to arrive late.” Edmund spoke, striding into the room, appearing to have just gotten back.

“Were you riding all day?” Caspian asked, looking him over.

Edmund nodded his head, diving into his food, seemingly ravenous. “I plan to leave tomorrow morning early again.”

“That won’t be necessary- Calormen has received word of Princess Y/N.”

Edmund almost choked on his food, looking at Peter, “And?”

Peter’s eyes narrowed, searching over his brother’s features. “She is claiming to be the rightful heir.”

Edmund’s mouth slowly stretched into a smile, as he seemed to process this, “So she isn’t going to run after all.” He leaned back, before shoving more food into his mouth. “You are correct brother, I won’t leave tomorrow. I’ll leave tonight.”

“Ed!” Lucy stood, “You’ve been out all day you need to rest!”

“She is going to be hunted by agents, soldiers, thieves and who knows what else.” Ed stood, Caspian and Peter standing with him.

“I’ll come with you,” Peter looked at his brother.

“You must remain here, King Peter- the king and crown prince of Calormen remain our prisoners. I will join in the search.”

Peter stopped himself from frowning before tightly nodding. He left after they walked from the room and went back to his study, slamming his fist on the desk once he was inside. “I’m sorry, Princess.” He sighed, staring out of the window as clouds made the small amount of light fade in and out.

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You woke with a start as a small noise came from the door. You quietly peaked through the eye hole in the door, slowly opening the door a crack.

It was Edmund, he was soaked. You gasped and quickly pulled him inside, quietly setting him closer to the fire. You went to turn and grab a blanket and he grabbed your wrist.

You met his eyes and his face turned into a giant grin, “Well, it looks like you put some faith in me after all.”

You blushed and ducked your head a bit, “You didn’t have to ride to your death in the cold rain to shove it in face.” You smirked as you teased him, telling him to shrug out of his coat and boots at the very least to set them closer to the fire that you built up a little more. 

“If Peter only knew my advisor.” You mumbled, grabbing a stack of papers off the table to go over with Ed. You sat down and pulled your chair closer to him.

“Peter would probably know more about some of this,” Ed sighed, “Now I have to remember all of the things I was ignoring.” He chuckled.

You looked over at him, “I look forward to learning more things from you. Now dry off!” You laughed, throwing a towel at him. You weren’t sure how much of the next few weeks in particular were going to be trying, tough, and a whole different universe- but you knew you were doing it for the best reasons you could, even if some of those were personal.

-------------------------- End of Part 7

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