#If I did please add them to the bloodbath

[rosallora]

RE: METAVAULTS

Discuss

@ktbofficial @ips-northstar-official @horizoncollective @harrison-armory-official @horus-unofficial

[agoodflyting]

Why Aziraphale is completely ridiculous in the Bastille scene (and I love him so much for it)

A while ago I posted a comparison of Aziraphale and Crowley's costumes in the 1793 flashback in Good Omens and I wanted to add these little tidbits. (Because they haunt me.)

I feel like most people know this but IF YOU DON'T, Paris in 1793 is right in the middle of something called La Terreur.

HISTORY LESSON If you didn't learn this in school the French Revolution was when, after years of escalating social tension, a coalition representing the working classes of France revolted against the monarchy, violently overthrew King Louis XVI, and declared France to be a republic.

The new National Convention governing France ruled that King Louis XVI and his wife Marie Antoinette were traitors to the people of France because of how they had spent ridiculous amounts of money on luxuries for themselves while vast numbers of the lower classes were literally starving to death. (keep the bold in mind - wealth and class disparities were one of the key causes of the whole-ass revolution)

In 1793 (year of the flashback) both the King and Queen were executed by guillotine for their crimes.

This kicks of something called The Reign of Terror (La Terreur if you want to be French about it). A multi-year-long period in which the National Convention goes on a bloody witch hunt for any and every member of the middle or upper classes who could even possibly be considered a traitor by those same standards.

If you A) had money or privilege, and B) had ever used your money or privilege to treat yourself, you were getting executed. Over 25,000 people died during the Reign of Terror, half of them by guillotine. In fact, the iconic guillotine was used because it was physically impossible to keep up with the sheer number of people they were executing in Paris every single day.

Some things that could get you killed (actually and completely seriously) during the Reign of Terror:

Implying in any way you were sympathetic to the monarchy

Having a noble title

Having expensive things

Wearing expensive, luxurious clothes (*cough* AZIRAPHALE)

helping or sympathizing with anyone who did any of the above

a working-class person saying you were mean to them once

And then there's this bitch...

I AM NOBILITY PLEASE KILL ME So we have established that Paris in 1793 is in the middle of a frenzied, state-sanctioned bloodbath in which the working classes are massacring everyone even remotely nobility-adjacent. And in the middle of this frenzy, Aziraphale proceeds to roll up in Paris in this outfit:

How will this outfit get him killed? Let me count the ways...

First off- at this point everyone with even the tiniest shred of self- preservation is hiding the fact that they are in any way associated with the monarchy. The wealthy are straight-up abandoning mansions. The middle-class are plastering over decorations to make their house look 'poor'. The only people dressed remotely decent are the guys leading the National Convention and that's just because nobody can stop them. Everyone else is in 24/7 peasant cosplay or else they are covering themselves in cockades and sashes on to show they're pro-Republic.

Aziraphale is basically a giant shiny white sign saying I AM NOBILITY PLEASE KILL ME.

First off the lace jabot and lace cuffs are both associated with the old-school wealthy in the 1790's.

His coat is also decorated in gold braid and silver buttons, which are both marks of wealth and luxury.

He basically looks like he works for Louis XIV - not just rich, but old school rich.

We know it's his natural hair color, but hair powdering (with clay and starch) had been a big trend with the rich all throughout the 18th century to get that clean white venerable look . To someone who doesn't know it's natural, it would very much look like he's wearing hair powder.

He's wearing shades of cream and white, which are very hard to keep clean and clearly states that the wearer is rich and can afford the upkeep necessary to keep an outfit like that stain-free.

He's wearing white knee-breeches and stockings, also called culottes. See above about laundry and how rich you had to be to wear white, but also working-class men wore long pants like this:

A large faction involved in the Revolution were the Sans-Culottes (no-culottes aka we wear long pants LIKE GOOD OLD WORKING MEN). Culottes are specifically associated with everything the revolution hated. That's right - Aziraphale is literally wearing The Fanciest of Fancy Pants in a city where a group called The Men Against Fancy Pants are running around murdering people.

And then there are his shoes.

Oh god his shoes

I could do a whole post about Aziraphale's blessed little white satin pumps and how ridiculous they are.

Actually I might just do that because this is getting so long and I still have to talk about the brioche.

So I can't remember if it's in the script book or if it's from Neil Gaiman's tumblr, but it's apparently canon (?) that Aziraphale was going around in that outfit asking people where he could get crepes and brioche when he was arrested.

The Affair of the Brioches

So... uh... we've all heard the line attributed to Marie Antoinette- how when she was told that her people were starving because there was no bread left in Paris, she famously said...

It's morphed into 'let them eat cake', but the line is first recorded as, "Then let them eat brioches."

While it's unlikely she ever actually said it, the important thing is that... people in 1793 would have thought she said it. It was used as political smear to show how arrogant and out of touch the monarchy was. Marie Antoinette in particular was reviled by the people of France, who thought she was the main cause of their economic problems. That's why she was executed too.

Bread and brioche and the lines between poverty and privilege were a big thing in Revolutionary France. There was a lot of political connotation to what you ate. The French Revolution came about because of decades of suffering among the lower classes of France. It wasn't something that some dudes just decided to do. The people of Paris have been through years of the absolute worst, most oppressive poverty and starvation you can imagine, all while watching the rich throw money around crazy.

So let us recap.

Aziraphale is dressed so ridiculously posh that he looks like a joke parody of a nobleman... and he is bumbling around Paris during the Reign of Terror. Asking people. For brioche. How I imagine everyone looked at him:

It is so astoundingly tone deaf and tactless. He is basically cosplaying as Marie Antoinette and then going around asking the poor for cake.

I just.... Aziraphale. babygirl. no. oh no. You're lucky they even bothered to take you to prison. I am amazed Crowley ever let him live that down.

I have no conclusion other than this. Aziraphale is ridiculous and I love him so much.

YES YOU REALLY SHOULD SIR.

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

With Me

Click here for my masterlist.

Click here to add yourself to my taglist.

Request - Please do cross with 2 from your prompt list ❤️

Prompt - "I didn't know where else to go."

Things had been bad for a while. 

You’d noticed things within the Order had started turning, noticed the Master’s had started turning a blind eye to things they usually would never have let pass. The war had dragged on for years, everyone was tired, everyone felt older than their age. 

You knew things were bad, knew supplies must have been stretched thin, when you were sent on your own mission. You were still only a Padawan, granted you probably should have transitioned into Knighthood by now but with the war that was the last thing on anybody’s mind, but you were still a Padawan. 

You shouldn’t have been leading a battalion. 

It was bad enough being entrusted with the lives of all these men, each of them looking to you for answers you didn’t have. You couldn’t contact your own Master, he was far away on another planet leading his own men. 

You were on your own. 

The battle was bad. It was a bloodbath. You had barely come out of it with your life, four days fighting non stop only to come out without a victory and with the lives of many men on your shoulders. 

The only reason you had come out alive is because you called so strongly upon the Force you were certain you’d touched the Dark Side. You could still feel it thick in your veins but by the end of four days you were too tired to care. 

You sat on your bunk on the way back to Coruscant, feeling numb. There were no words to make it better, nothing you said could comfort the remaining men on the ship. You’d already been called to the meeting room, expected to fill the Council in once you arrived.

You weren’t exactly thrilled to be going before the Council. You could still feel the dirt on your clothes, the blood on your face, aches spread throughout your whole body and you were pretty sure you needed to see a medic but you were so numb to everything that it didn’t matter. 

Eventually the ship landed, you stayed on your bunk for a long time before you managed to pull your tired body up, somehow forcing one foot in front of the other until you found yourself in the middle of the Council room. 

Master Yoda had been talking for some time, filling the other members in on your mission and informing them that he felt a disturbance in the Force. 

“The Dark Side, did you touch?” Master Yoda finally addressed you. 

It took you a moment longer than it should have to realise the attention was fully on you and you managed to shake yourself back to reality, looking around the room to see the majority of the Master’s looking at you with mistrust and disgust. You couldn’t help the stinging in your eyes when you saw your Master’s seat was empty. 

“Yes.” You forced the word out, too exhausted to care anymore. 

Master Yoda started talking again but you drowned him and the other Master’s out as they began to discuss your fate. You wanted to care what became of you, any other time you’d have fought hard to be heard but the war had drained you, you hadn’t seen your Master in so long, hadn’t trained properly in years, there was no community among the Jedi any more, your friends were scattered across the galaxy and you hardly had anyone to confide in anymore. 

You couldn’t help but smile, a weak, barely there tug of the lip as you thought about the few people you did truly have in the galaxy. 

Clone Force 99. 

They had been brought in on plenty of your Master’s missions and you had been excited to meet them, back before the war had drained everything from you. Wrecker had been the easiest to get along with, especially once he saw your knack for blowing things up. Wrecker was the best to go to when you needed cheering up, when you needed someone to shoulder the weight on your back with you. 

Hunter and you worked well together. It might have taken him a second to warm up to you, to welcome you as one of his but once he had, stars help anyone who tried to hurt you. You gravitated toward Hunter when you needed advice, when you needed to vent, when you needed someone to ground you. Hunter felt like everything your Master used to be, back when you were a child, back before the war became the only thing that mattered. 

Tech had taken the longest to warm up to you. You hadn’t minded though, you understood that their whole lives had been just them, the regs didn’t exactly treat them well. Letting somebody else in for somebody like Tech was a big step. You’d manage to earn his trust though, letting him ramble on about things you didn’t understand, brushing away the others when they told Tech to calm down. You’d let Tech teach you about the ship, about the blasters, about your lightsaber and slowly he let you in, seeking you out on his own and the good thing about Tech was he didn’t expect anything from you. He was content for you to sit and watch him tinker away whilst he filled the silence without needing a reply. 

You loved them, some days they were the only thing that stopped you from going rouge, from leaving the war behind. 

It was Crosshair that kept you going though. Whilst Hunter and Wrecker had warmed up to you easily enough, Crosshair had kept his distance. He’d look at you from across the room with a scowl on his face, he’d grunt at you instead of giving you an actual response and he just about drove you crazy. 

You loved him anyway. 

It had taken you nearly dying for him to admit he didn’t hate you as you’d originally thought, he just hadn’t wanted to like you as much as he did. Crosshair was used to what he had, much like Tech was. He didn’t want to care about somebody else and yet you made it impossible for him not to. 

Once Crosshair finally let himself admit that he liked you it was like something in the galaxy itself shifted. Clone Force 99 was brought onto more and more of your missions and you found yourself staying in the Marauder more than your own quarters. You and Crosshair worked like you’d been working together your whole lives, you didn’t need to talk, able to communicate through looks and work your way through whatever obstacles stood between you and your goal like it was nothing. 

It was only a matter of time before you felt yourself falling from the sniper. 

At first it terrified you, sure you’d looked at people before, could appreciate that they were attractive but you’d never wanted to act on it. Never had to force your eyes away from their lips, fixated on how Crosshair fiddled with the toothpick in his mouth. Never had to snap yourself back into a conversation so much because you were too focused on his hands as he cleaned his weapon. 

Everything about Crosshair was intoxicating, it was consuming. Most days it felt so easy to lay your head on his shoulder, to forget that outside the walls of the Marauder there was a war happening. Most days you could sit at his side, listening to the sound of his voice as you let him lull you to sleep. 

Everything about Crosshair was everything the Jedi Code forbade. 

“Dismissed you are, from the Jedi Order.” Master Yoda’s voice had you flinching out of your thoughts, mouth falling open to protest the sentence only to snap back shut again. 

Did you care enough to fight the punishment? 

What would you do? 

You didn’t argue, didn’t say a word. Some of the Jedi looked sympathetic as you bowed your head before turning from the room, leaving silently. 

You made your way through the Temple, no real destination in mind as you stared ahead. You felt more than realised you were outside when the fresh air hit your face, it was dark out now, you’d been standing before the Council for hours. 

What would you do? 

You didn’t know. You let your feet carry you, not sure where you were heading but knowing you had to get away from the Temple. 

You couldn’t say how long you’d been walking aimlessly for, only that at some point the rain had come flooding down and your feet ached.

Eventually you came to a stop, not even really realising you had for a moment until you blinked back to reality and felt a choked sob escape you at the sight before you, surprised you hadn’t ended up here earlier. You couldn’t blame yourself though, your thoughts weren’t there clearest right now. 

Apparently seeing a familiar sight was enough to send you over the edge, bringing the floodgates down and sending tears down your face. You let yourself stand there, letting your tears mix with the rain still falling heavily from the dark clouds above, just staring at the Marauder and feeling a sense of relief, a sense of finally being home. 

Eventually you forced your fist to knock at the door. 

Crosshair frowned at the sound of a knock, barely audible over the sound of the rain coming down. The others were asleep by now, readying themselves for an early start on yet another mission. 

He waited a moment but curiosity got the better of him and he forced himself up. When the door opened his heart ached at the sight of you, soaked through your clothes and silent sobs wracking your body. 

“I didn’t know where else to go.” You choked out before Crosshair had the chance to ask what had happened. 

He didn’t waste any time stepping out into the rain and wrapping his arm around you, pulling you into the warmth and safety of the Marauder. More sobs escaped you as you entered, being encompassed by the only home you had left. 

“I’ll be back, wait there darling.” Crosshair instructed as he sat you down and you could only nod, watching as he busied himself with making a hot pot of caff before leaving the room.  

Crosshair made his way over to Tech’s things, you were more his size than Crosshair’s but he did stop to grab his own blanket before making his way back to you, snatching a towel from Hunter’s things as he passed. 

“Let’s get you dry.” He murmured, kneeling down next to you and helping you out of your soaked clothes. 

Any other time he would have savoured the feeling of peeling your clothes off but now he was only methodical, trying them to the side and drying your body with the towel before he helped you into Tech’s blacks and wrapped the blanket around you. 

Crosshair stood up, ready to make you a hot cup of caff when he was stopped by your hand gripping his. He looked down at you, hating the lost look on your face.

“What happened?” Crosshair asked, his voice low as he knelt back down in between your knees, taking your other hand in his and looking into your eyes. The question of who did he have to hurt was heard clearly, even if it wasn’t said out loud. 

“They kicked me out of the Order.” You told him quietly, playing with his long fingers as you spoke. “It doesn’t matter, I’m not even upset about it.”

Crosshair gave you a doubtful look and you couldn’t help but laugh, though it sounded more like a sob.  

“I know it doesn’t look that way but…the Order, it’s all I’ve ever known. I don’t know what I am without it. That’s the scary part. I don’t know where I belong.” You confessed, looking away from Crosshair and down at your joined hands. 

“With me.” Crosshair said before he could stop himself but even when the words registered he didn’t take them back. “You belong here. You belong with me.”

///

Crosshair Taglist /

@ughhhhfoff , @bobaprint, @starstruckfluff,

[star-my]

born as a tiger

Pairing: Min Yoongi (Mad King) x OFC (Lee Hoyeon)

Rating: T | WC: 5.8k | Ao3 | My Fics Masterlist | Masterlist |

AU: Daechwita AU, Arranged Marriage AU, Historical AU, Royal AU

CW: implied unhealthy/abusive parental relationship, OFC has Trust Issues & implied C-PTSD, Yoongi & Yoonji star in this fic, Namjoon cameo, Jackson Wang shows up (does not throw a party but is cause for one), Jackson goes by Gayi, empty threats of violence but as a love language, sword fighting but friendly, I think that's it, lmk if I should update this

Summary:

Lee Hoyeon trembled at all the thoughts flashing through her head as her carriage pulled up in front of the infamous Changdeokgung palace. Peering out through the window, she was unsettled to see how clean the stone courtyard was, the cool taupe a far cry from the dripping red she’d half-expected after tormenting herself with thoughts of her fiance’s atrocities. All the gossip she’d heard from the maids and guards back home in Dongjak Kingdom was now front and centre in her mind.  The carriage slowed to a gentle stop and the door opened, courtesy of the footman. Hoyeon took his hand, hoping hers wasn’t trembling too noticeably, and took her first step on the grounds she would be empress of in three weeks.

A/N: - this idea lay dormant for a year and a half and suddenly resurrected in the middle of reading a webtoon at 10 pm so here I am answering the author’s call of nature 😭 (*spongebob voice* fOuR mOnThS lAtEr: bless the ATZ hyperfixation for me wanting to get something out of my brain to make more room for the ot8 brainrot and this WIP was the sacrifice it chose)

I did some research for this fic, such as the Changdeokgung palace truly existing (of which I used in my moodboard), the chrysanthemum tea vs plum tea debate, and Yoongi’s sword apparently being called a hwando, etc. Any inaccuracies are mine and I apologize. Please feel free to point them out :)

There was supposed to be some smut but the muses refused. I may add it in the future or post it in a second chapter.

Thanks to the lovely @lunarelles for betaing! Any remaining mistakes are my own <3 Enjoy! 

D-22

Emperor Min Yoongi of the Dalseogu Empire was a force to be reckoned with. His subjects trembled in fear when he was whispered about–even his fellow rulers kept a wide berth around him when they met at diplomatic events. He’s a monster, they said. His reign was written with the blood of his subjects. He was nicknamed the Mad King for a reason–not that anyone would say his unofficial title to his face.

The day after the seventh emperor of the Dalseogu empire was crowned, he killed half of his court. Only a select few officials remained unscathed from the Mad King’s bloodbath. Even the families of the officials he killed were not all exempt – wives, concubines, and children being wiped out by his sword. The Dowager Empress and the Second, Third, and Fourth Prince had all died that day, making it the second most bloody day the Empire had seen since its inception.

Lee Hoyeon trembled at all the thoughts flashing through her head as her carriage pulled up in front of the infamous Changdeokgung palace. Peering out through the window, she was unsettled to see how clean the stone courtyard was, the cool taupe a far cry from the dripping red she’d half-expected after tormenting herself with thoughts of her fiance’s atrocities.

All the gossip she’d heard from the maids and guards back home in Dongjak Kingdom was now front and centre in her mind. 

The carriage slowed to a gentle stop and the door opened, courtesy of the footman. Hoyeon took his hand, hoping hers wasn’t trembling too noticeably, and took her first step on the grounds she would be empress of in three weeks. 

A contingency of guards marched out from the front gates of Changdeokgung, a swish of brightly-coloured silk in their midst. Bowing to Hoyeon, they stepped aside, revealing the silk as the crown princess, the Mad King’s twin sister, Min Yoonji.

“I’m glad you made it here safely, Princess Hoyeon,” greeted Crown Princess Yoonji familiarly, as if this was their hundredth meeting and not their first. “The emperor was out often the past couple weeks ensuring the bandits would not attack the carriages. I imagine you’re rather thirsty and tired. Would you like some tea?”

“Tea would be lovely, thank you, Crown Princess.”

“Please, call me unnie, we are to be sisters in a few weeks.”

“As you wish, Crown Princess.” Hoyeon followed the princess to the quarters prepared for her stay before she wed the emperor. 

This whole situation was most bizarre. The crown princess had been rumoured to be a fierce warrior–much like her brother, the maids had gasped as Hoyeon eavesdropped. Yet here she was, dressed in silks like any other respectable lady of the court and pouring the fragrant tea with a natural elegance Hoyeon had practiced for days to attain.

“So, are you excited for the wedding?” asked Yoonji, refilling their cups with the most delicious blend of tea Hoyeon had ever drunk.

Hoyeon nibbled on her lip, debating how much would be prudent to tell the crown princess. She was lovely and welcoming, but she was also the emperor’s sister. How was she supposed to say she was scared out of her wits and had been for the past several days, since her father had announced her engagement to the Mad King at a state dinner with no warning whatsoever. That she’d tried to learn what she could about her new empire and husband-to-be, but all she had gleaned was that she would be lucky to survive six months as the empress? What could she say, I almost looked forward to this when my father first announced this, so that I had a chance to finally be free from his tyranny, but now I wish I was back with the devil I know?

Deciding the last train of thought had the most truth she could pluck from and spin into a plausible half-truth, she replied, “I was surprised when my father mentioned the alliance to me, but I am pleased to be able to support my kingdom in this way. I will do my best to be a good empress to Dalseogu. I noticed the absolutely beautiful scenery as I made my way here, and it is a lovely empire.” Just ruled by not-so-lovely people, she thought, then ignored the stab of guilt at the mental insult to Yoonji, who’d been rather good so far at calming her nerves.

Yoonji smiled at the compliment to her empire. “I’m so glad you think so! I know it can be a bit…sparse, to some, but I think there’s a wild beauty to the land.”

One of her maids stepped forward to whisper in her ear. Yoonji looked at Hoyeon apologetically. 

“Duty calls, I’m afraid. I’ll leave you to rest now. I know my brother was looking forward to greeting you, but something came up that he couldn’t ignore. He’d like you to join him for tea tomorrow afternoon.”

“Of course, I will be there. Thank you, Crown Princess…unnie.”

Yoonji’s glare softened at the casual honorific. “Lovely! Rest well, Princess Hoyeon.”

The crown princess and her entourage left, leaving only Hoyeon and her maid, Jina. 

“That seemed to go well, Miss,” offered Jina as she began to unpack and brush out Hoyeon’s nightclothes.

Hoyeon groaned, collapsing onto her bed with her hand flung over her eyes. “Appearances can be deceiving, Jina. I can’t afford to trust anyone here, no matter how nice they are–especially the emperor’s sister!”

“I hope she can be a true friend to you here, Miss.”

“Thank you, Jina.”

D-21

“It’s a pleasure to serve you, Princess Hoyeon,” bowed the maid provided by the palace, named Sora. 

“Thank you. I’m sure Jina will appreciate your help in navigating the palace until she becomes accustomed to our new accommodations.”

“I’ll do my best, Princess.”

Sora and Jina chattered away, becoming fast friends, as Hoyeon chewed anxiously on her thumbnail in the corner. 

She learned that Sora had a younger sister, Soha, whom she was very proud of for having recently become a full-fledged palace maid. The head maid was tough but caring once a maid proved herself, and Sora was sure Jina would win her over in no time. There were a couple guards who were insufferable flirts, but they were still respectful. Jina’s best course of action would be to ignore any flirtations and not respond to the provocations. 

Hoyeon finally jumped up from her seat, startling the maids from their conversation. “What time should I be prepared to go for tea with the emperor?”

“If we start now, you should arrive just after the emperor’s meeting finishes, Princess,” replied Sora. 

The maids did their best to dress Hoyeon up in her favourite hanbok, pinning her hair with a gold hairpin the emperor had gifted her via her father, and using cosmetics to accentuate her features.

“You’re a little pale,” commented Jina as she patted some pink onto Hoyeon’s cheeks. 

“Do you blame me?” she retorted. “Sora, is there anything I need to be aware of when I greet the emperor?”

Sora paused from folding a discarded robe. “I don’t think so. Emperor Min doesn’t insist on many formalities if it’s not a formal event. I believe Soha will be serving the tea, so if you need anything, you can ask her to find me, Princess.”

“Thank you, Sora.”

Jina and Sora fell in behind her, Sora quietly directing her through the maze of corridors to the room the emperor was waiting in for her.

She smiled at the guards outside the doors. “Is the emperor available?”

“Unnie!”

Hoyeon turned to see a girl bearing a tea tray. She bowed to her before turning to Sora.

“Unnie, the emperor is still occupied.”

“Do you think he will be long?”

“I don’t think you will wait long,” reported the girl, who Hoyeon assumed was Soha. “Princess,” she bowed again before entering the room.

A loud voice escaped the open door, followed by the distinctive sound of a slap.

A minute later she ran out, tears flowing down her face as she passed Hoyeon and her maids.

Hoyeon stared in trepidation at the girl. What had happened to make the emperor slap her? She’d barely had time to do anything. This didn’t bode well for her.

“Show Princess Lee in,” called a voice. The guards opened the door.

Hoyeon took a deep breath and stepped forward, keeping her eyes on the next step she was taking.

She paused when she reached a low tea table, droplets of tea scattered across its surface. She could see the emperor’s robes across from her and a tea set shattered on the floor to her right.

So that was why Soha had run out. Why was it broken?

“Your Majesty,” she bowed, hoping it was low enough.

“Your Highness,” he greeted in response. “You may stand.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Her eyes flicked up to his face quickly, then back down to hide her surprise.

He had a scar across his right eye, from his eyebrow to his cheek. She’d thought the rumours were just that–rumours. Who had ever heard of a king with a scar?

She supposed with a reputation like his, he didn’t have to worry about naysayers attempting to depose him.

She’d been so surprised at the scar and hadn’t wanted to be caught staring that she barely remembered his other features.

She chanced another glance and found him staring at her.

“You can look at me, Princess Hoyeon.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” She peeked up under her lashes.

Was it possible for a scar to heighten his appeal? He had shockingly blond hair pulled back into the typical sangtu, thick brows, a nose that she couldn’t believe the first adjective she thought of was ‘cute’, and pouty lips. Overall, he was rather attractive. 

The benefit to marrying a young emperor was that he was surprisingly handsome, but it also meant he was less likely to die soon. In all honesty, Hoyeon expected him to outlive her.  

She hadn’t met his eyes–his look had been far too calculating. If there was one thing she knew about court politics, it was to never show your fear when someone was around. 

“You arrived much quicker than I expected, Princess Hoyeon. I hope your travels were smooth.”

“Yes, thank you. We had no trouble at all. My father said it was better to arrive sooner lest we be waylaid and made late.” He was just thrilled he could finally get some use out of his useless only child.

“Crown Princess Yoonji said that you were an interesting companion at her tea yesterday.”

I knew she’d tell him about me.

“As was she, Your Majesty. I look forward to getting to know her–and you–better.”

“Good,” said the emperor, clearly pleased. “The crown princess is pleased to be able to help you become accustomed to the Dalseogu Empire. I will be busy with all the things that must be finished before the wedding, so I imagine you will be seeing her often.”

“I’m pleased to hear that, Your Majesty. May I ask you a question?” Better to find out now how lenient he will be towards my impertinence.

“Go ahead.”

“Why did you approach the Dongjak kingdom for an alliance?” Why me?

“It is advantageous for both our lands to have the trade deals this alliance will forge. Dongjak and Dalseogu have not always been at peace, so this was a good way to cement it.”

Slightly surprised that the emperor had actually given her an answer, she nodded. She hadn’t had the slightest shred of hope that he would give her some secretly romantic explanation, such as he’d seen her at some event and been so taken by her that he had to have her. All she was good for was strengthening her kingdom’s ties as one of its most important representatives. 

The guards opened the door and let in Sora, carrying the replacement tea set.

She poured the tea quietly and served their cups to them, then retreated to the side, assuming an at-ease position.

“Please sit,” directed the emperor, settling himself on his cushion. Hoyeon followed his example, making herself as comfortable as she could sitting opposite an unknown volatile man no one could rebuke.

The tea was delicious, stronger than what she was used to back in Dongjak, but she found its tart flavour pleasant. 

“This is exquisite tea, Your Majesty.”

He inclined his head. “It is plum tea. I believe Dongjak more commonly uses the chrysanthemum flowers for their tea.”

“You are correct, Your Majesty.”

Tea with the emperor went fairly well, although Hoyeon caught his considering gaze upon her several times. It unnerved her, wondering why he was taking so much interest in his political bride. 

She didn’t like it.

D-20

Hoyeon giggled, finally somewhat relaxed around the crown princess as the older girl spilled stories about her maids’ and guards’ dramatic dynamics and relationships. 

“Don’t tell the head maid I told you this,” Yoonji leaned forward, finger to her lips. 

Hoyeon’s eyes widened as she bit her lower lip, nodding quickly in agreement. She knew that the maids were one of the biggest and best ally teams she could have on her side in the palace, and she wouldn’t dare do anything to harm her chances of gaining connections.

“So, what do you think of my brother, after your tea with him yesterday?” Yoonji relaxed onto her cushion, pouring herself another cup of what Hoyeon wasn’t completely convinced was just plum tea. 

Her teeth dug further into her lip as she considered how to answer. The siblings appeared fairly close for being possible throne rivals–especially considering that Yoonji had survived the Mad King’s bloody beginning–and she couldn’t speak freely. The princess was a skilled politician, however, and would surely catch on if she lied and began praising the man.

“I find His Majesty…intimidating,” she said slowly, gauging how Yoonji took that ambivalent opening.

Yoonji nodded, motioning to continue with her finger. “He certainly knows how to make himself understood.”

Understatement of the dynasty, thought Hoyeon. 

“He’s…rather good looking. I was surprised,” she mused. Realising Yoonji had raised her eyebrow at her, she went on hastily. “Just that I hadn’t heard anyone speak about that when they discussed the emperor! I had very little information on His Majesty to go off of. I suppose the men that met the emperor were more focused on his character than his countenance,” she snorted, a little self-deprecatingly, glancing up to see if Yoonji would take the bait and either consider her a little simple and romantically-minded or expound upon her open-ended question to know more about her fiance’s personality. 

“Well, I suppose I agree that my brother is rather good-looking,” Yoonji mused, sipping her tea. “I’ve been told often that we appear quite similar.”

“Indeed, that was one of the first things I noticed. You’re both attractive and there’s certainly a family resemblance between you two. By the way, is there anyone you think is good-looking, unnie?” she asked curiously, hoping she wasn’t overstepping.

Yoonji shook her head. “There are several tolerably handsome ministers and princes around, but their personalit-”

A knock sounded at the door to the crown princess’s tea room. Yoonji nodded at Hoyeon in apology, excusing herself to speak quietly with the maid waiting at the door, bringing a message from the emperor. 

Yoonji’s brow furrowed slightly, then smoothed as she turned back to Hoyeon. “The emperor has requested an audience with me, and he wishes to see you after my visit. Would you like to come with me now?”

Hoyeon nodded, setting her tea down and getting to her feet. She still wasn’t entirely sure she had the palace layout memorised, and Jina was currently being interviewed by the head maid, leaving Hoyeon friendless and ally-less if Yoonji also left her behind. 

“I’d be honoured to join you, Your Highness.”

The two young women headed as briskly as nobles could to the emperor’s throne room, where he remained after a meeting with his ministers earlier. 

The guards saw the duo’s approach and opened the tall doors in anticipation of Yoonji’s entrance. Hoyeon chose to remain outside, though the doors remained open, giving the siblings privacy and taking advantage of the moment to prepare her nerves to see her fiance again. She’d relaxed in Yoonji’s quiet company, but reverted to her stiff princess behaviour on their walk here. 

Shaking her head at her rapid closeness with the princess, she straightened her skirts anxiously. For all she knew, the siblings were in there right now discussing her pathetic surface-level attraction to the Mad King and how quickly she’d come to confide in the princess.

Shifting on her feet, she cursed her father once again for removing anyone who’d appeared close to her, making her a prime target for spilling her innermost thoughts when she met someone who appeared to listen. Reminding herself it had only been two days and Yoonji had not yet proved if it was safe to trust her, Hoyeon twisted the jade ring on her finger as she waited.

A loud cry came from Yoonji, giving her deja vu. With an inner sigh, she inched forward, straining her ear to make out what the siblings were arguing about. 

Silently, she watched Yoonji, who appeared unafraid to talk back to the emperor. Was it because she was his sister? He wouldn’t retaliate? Something else? She needed to know everything she could.

“I’m getting married?!” cried Yoonji, clearly. “In two weeks?! Without you telling me first?!”

Hoyeon froze. Her newest ally and possible future friend would be leaving the palace? Was it because they were becoming close? Had Yoonji done something warranting being sent away? No, it was probably just another business transaction, like her marriage was to be. 

Calming her anxious thoughts, Hoyeon shuffled a little closer, wondering who the groom was.

“No, you are leaving Dalseogu in two weeks. You are getting married in a week to Emperor Wang Gayi.”

“You arranged a marriage for me? With the Wang Emperor?!”

“Yes, I did, and you will marry him. That’s an emperor’s order, Min Yoonji.”

“You gave me no choice? I’m so mad that you interfered with my relationships,” Yoonji said flatly, turning and exiting via the hall behind the throne area. 

“Your groom will be here by tomorrow morning,” the emperor informed her, barely raising his voice. Facing forward once again, he motioned Hoyeon to approach him. 

“Good afternoon, Princess.”

She bowed. “Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”

“Good afternoon, Your Highness. Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you. I just came from having some with the crown princess. I suppose she will be busy now with her wedding preparations, so I am grateful that I could have these past few days to get to know my sister-in-law.”

“I apologize if you feel that my sister’s wedding takes precedence over ours,” the emperor said, surprising Hoyeon. “I wished her to wed soon and thought that now would be best since most of the preparations for ours are already complete and can transfer to theirs. Emperor Wang has to return to Kowloon soon and I wanted him to take Yoonji with him.”

“I am not slighted at all, Your Majesty. I wish the royal couple all happiness and longevity. May I ask why you requested to see me after the crown princess, Your Majesty?”

He stretched languidly, rising to his feet and sauntering down the steps to his throne. “Am I not allowed to wish to see my fiancee?” he asked, approaching Hoyeon. 

“Y-you are, Your Majesty.” Biting her lip, she forced herself to remain standing tall and not move back.

He paused two arm lengths away from her. “I would like to see you every day before our wedding, if you are available.”

“I believe I will be, if that is what you wish.”

He tilted his head, scanning her head to toe. She lowered her gaze to his feet, hoping she hadn’t mussed her clothing since Jina left her at Yoonji’s tea room. 

“You seem rather nervous.”

Who wouldn’t be, being the focus of one of the continent’s most dangerous men?! Hoyeon shrieked internally. Well, it appeared the emperor was more perceptive than her father, so lying was off the table. “I suppose I am. We have only met once, and I am unchaperoned. I do not wish to cause any damage to either of your kingdoms if there were negative repercussions from this event, Your Majesty.”

He hummed, taking a step back so that his black-clad feet were no longer in her vision. “The doors are open and there are plenty of guards and other staff around, Princess. But, if it would make you feel better–Chief Advisor Kim!”

Barely repressing the flinch at his sudden shout, Hoyeon turned to see who the emperor had just summoned. A tall, handsome man rushed in, arms full of scrolls and books, a pair of spectacles sliding down his nose. He pushed them up, a scroll fluttering from its precarious spot under his elbow. 

Hoyeon stooped without thinking, catching the runaway parchment and handing it back to the man, who flashed a thankful smile at her, dimples appearing in his cheeks. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

“Princess Hoyeon, this is my most trusted advisor, Kim Namjoon. He will be our chaperone,” the emperor said shortly. 

“I’m honoured to meet you, Princess. Congratulations on the wedding.”

“Thank you,” she nodded at him and turned back to her fiance, not wanting to spend his patience with her over another man. Still, his behaviour was unlike anything she was used to. The Mad King was her enigma, and she only hoped it wouldn’t take too long to figure him out. 

D-17

The sound of metal hitting metal drew Hoyeon’s attention from the flowery bushes she was admiring, turning towards the walled courtyard ahead of her.

Jina stopped by her side, both somewhat behind one of the pillars by the entrance, watching the two men in front of them slash at each other, silver swords glinting in the sunlight.

The emperor’s distinctive blond hair gave his identity away, and Hoyeon watched his graceful power with an open mouth, seeing first-hand her fiance’s prowess with a blade.

The other man was about the same height, with short brown hair and a slimmer sword than Yoongi’s. He held it with a careless ease that belied years of training, evenly matched with his opponent. 

Their blades clashed, sun rays reflecting off their entwined blades and blinding Hoyeon. She sneezed unexpectedly, interrupting the men’s moment. They bowed to each other, sheathing their blades and walking in different directions–Yoongi towards her and the other man towards Yoonji, whom Hoyeon just noticed was standing at the other side. 

Hoyeon bowed, greeting the emperor. He nodded back at her, taking the damp cloth his attendant held out to him and wiping his face and neck down. The neckline of his black robe gaped a little, affording Hoyeon a glimpse of smooth pale skin and subtly defined musculature. She blushed red, glancing away quickly to watch Yoonji, who had attained her own sword. 

The emperor followed her gaze, leaning his hand carelessly on his hwando pommel. “That’s Emperor Wang,” he confirmed her suspicion carelessly. “Would you like to make a bet with me?”

“A bet, Your Majesty?” Hoyeon flicked her gaze to him in confusion.

He nodded towards the couple. “On who will win their spar, Yoonji or Gayi.”

“They will spar?” Crown princess versus emperor, fiancee versus fiance?

The two moved towards the now-open sparring area in the middle of the yard, raising their blades to the opening position. 

“They have both trained for years. I’m curious myself about the outcome. So, what do you say, Princess?” The emperor leaned towards her, breath brushing her cheek. “Will you bet with me?”

“Very well, Your Majesty. What are your terms?”

He leaned back, studying her in mild surprise. “Hm…you must answer three questions I ask of you fully and truthfully, when I wish.”

That’s all? Like I could lie to you anyways. “Alright. I will hold the same terms, for the sake of fairness. I bet that the emperor will win.”

Hoyeon felt the weight of his gaze on her. “Not my sister?”

She shook her head. “I saw some of the emperor’s prowess when you two were fighting. I have not seen the princess fight, and the emperor surely has more experience, being on the battlefield.”

“But he will be tired since we were fighting before this,” Yoongi pointed out. “And I have fought with the princess. So, our bet. We each bet three complete, truthful answers about any topic we are asked about by the other if they win–you if Emperor Gayi wins, myself if Crown Princess Yoonji wins.”

“I agree to your terms.” Hoyeon shook the emperor’s hand, feeling his long fingers and calloused palms against her bare skin for the first time. He was warmer than she had expected; somehow she’d anticipated a cold-blooded, rigid man. 

He let go of her hand and she swiftly tucked her hands into her sleeves, feeling the ghost of his palm against hers. Focusing on the duo facing off in front of her, she did her best to ignore the warm presence brushing against her side. 

Yoonji was better than Hoyeon had expected, never having seen a female warrior before. Some of her moves looked similar to the emperor’s, but some were distinctively hers. She seemed to be having fun, however, a large gummy smile forming on her face as she parried the emperor’s strikes and danced into his space, making it more difficult for him to evade her attacks. 

Her opponent also seemed to be having fun, a smile growing on his face as they sparred. 

Hoyeon was glad the two were getting along, albeit in a more violent way than she was used to. Given what she knew of the crown princess’s personality, she was curious how the couple’s relationship would progress.

“The princess is quite good,” she said without thinking.

The emperor hummed in agreement. “I trained with her often. She is one of my best generals.”

Hoyeon whipped around in surprise. “The crown princess is your general?”

He nodded, dragging his eyes from the fight to her face. 

“Then why–” Hoyeon bit her lip, realizing her curiosity could be taken as insolence.

“Continue,” the emperor prompted her curiously. 

“Then why are you marrying your general off to the Kowloon Empire?” she asked quietly. He still appeared to have heard her, as he replied.

“The emperor and my sister have been in love for a while now. I will be saddened by my best general, advisor, and companion’s absence, but it is beyond time for her to have her happiness.”

Hoyeon blinked. Was the emperor…sentimental? And what was that about the marriage argument the other day?

“But…I understood the princess was against the marriage?”

“Not at all, she was being sarcastic. ‘How dare you marry me to the love of my life? Alas, I am ordered to spend time with the only man who makes me happy.’ Like that.”

“Oh.”

“Are you slandering me behind my back, Your Majesty?” Yoonji approached the two, her fiance behind her, carrying their swords.

“Is it slander if it’s true?” he retorted. “It seems my bride has not yet grown accustomed to your strange sense of humour. Now tell me, who won? I have a bet on the line, here.”

Realizing she’d been too distracted by the emperor to see who won, Hoyeon looked to Yoonji, who had what she now realised was a faux-betrayed look on her face. 

“You had better have bet on me, brother.”

“Of course I did,” he replied smugly. “So, I won the bet?”

Yoonji’s fiance spoke up. “No, your lovely fiancee did. Congratulations, Princess.”

“Damn, I should have bet on Gayi.”

Yoonji smacked her brother’s arm for his comment. “You are lucky I’m leaving the palace, Your Majesty.”

Hoyeon watched the siblings banter with wide eyes. The emperor was so relaxed and unlike his Mad King persona today. Which was the real one?

“It’s okay, Princess,” commiserated Emperor Gayi. “No one understands these two’s strange relationship, either.”

“I can behead you, you know,” threatened Yoongi. 

“You better give me his empire if you do,” Yoonji poked his stomach.

“Not if you keep touching me, I won’t!”

“OR,” interrupted Gayi, “you can not behead me and Yoonji can begin her reign over my empire peacefully as my empress!”

“But then I’d still have to hear you talk about my sister,” pointed out Yoongi. “It would be a lot quieter if your head was removed from your shoulders.”

“Say something!” Gayi looked at Yoonji, who sighed.

“Yoongi, don’t kill my fiance. It wouldn’t be a lot quieter because you’d then have to hear your sister talk about how much she missed her dead fiance instead…and your fiancee wouldn’t like you to kill her new ally, I guess.”

Yoongi looked at the bewildered Hoyeon. “Hm. It’s better to remove two nuisances at once, I suppose. I shall endure this next week for the princess’s sake, I suppose, since she won our bet.”

“How generous, Your Majesty,” Gayi and Yoonji bowed formally after the emperor, who left with an eye roll at their antics. 

Yoonji straightened once he was gone and turned to Hoyeon with a smile. “Do you want me to show you to the archery range?”

D-13

The wedding of the Emperor of Kowloon and the Crown Princess of Dalseogu went off without a hitch, which relieved some of Hoyeon’s worries. It was exactly the same as it would be for her and Yoongi, so she had a chance to mentally prepare. There wasn’t too much that could go wrong, thankfully, so as long as she didn’t faint next week, she should be in the clear.

Spending time with her fiance the past week and a half, as well as with his sister and her fiance, helped relax Hoyeon. He was courteous, surprisingly soft-spoken in private, and less menacing than she had been prepared for. Slowly, she began to wonder if the rumours had been exaggerated, as royal rumours tended to be, and if she might in fact be safe in the Dalseogu empire. 

Then came the day of her wedding, and all Hoyeon’s nerves returned full-force. Yoonji had left for Kowloon with Gayi, unable to stay for the wedding, and only Jina was there as someone she could rely on.

Her father had sent a witness to his only child’s wedding, too concerned over possible attacks to come himself. Hoyeon snorted as she read the letter his delegate had handed to her, dropping the paper to the table carelessly.

So he could send his daughter to live in the empire, but couldn’t come in person to celebrate her nuptials, the entire reason he would be safe visiting? Well, it wasn’t like she’d expected anything from him, but it still pinched in her heart. 

Jina brushed her robes out smoothly, stepping back and giving her a reassuring nod. “It’s time, Your Highness.”

D-Day

The entire ceremony was a blur, Hoyeon too focused on not making a mistake to take in anything else. She had the vague sense that the atmosphere was overcast, but nothing more than that.

The celebration feast was similarly unfocused, for slightly differing reasons. Yoongi, her new husband (what a strange thought), was right beside her at the head table, paying rather unnerving attention to her. 

Small bites were all she could choke down under his scrutiny, though he did his best to keep her dishes full. Hoyeon was a little confused when he kept adding delicious-smelling dishes to her immediate reach. Any other day, she’d be happy to try the new and intriguing dishes, but with the nerves in her stomach and the eyes on her chopsticks, she couldn’t choke down more than a few bites, something she bemoaned.

Toasts and cheers were continually offered by the celebrating ministers and nobles filling the hall, gallons of alcohol flowing freely. 

Hoyeon grabbed her goblet, draining the dregs in a couple gulps, coughing a little at the afterburn. Yoongi’s scrutiny became heavier, his warmth overwhelming her as he leaned even closer to whisper in her ear. “Are you alright, Your Majesty?”

Hoyeon hiccuped. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you for your concern, Your Majesty. Just thirsty.”

His expression told her he didn’t fully believe her, but he leaned back, letting her breathe easily again. She turned away, patting her burning cheeks with the back of her hand. 

It really should be illegal for someone to look that handsome up close. She considered her previous fears that he would behead her within six months and revised it to worry that she’d be overcome by his beauty within six months instead. 

A sudden weight on her hand made her look down from picking up individual grains of rice with her chopsticks.

Yoongi’s hand rested on hers, his thumb caressing her pulse point. Her heart skipped a beat at the simple touch. He didn’t look at her anymore, thankfully, but his hand stayed on hers the rest of the feast.

Her eyes darted between his profile and her chopsticks several times. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad being his empress. 

General taglist (open): @bangtanwritershq @kayleefriedchicken @otome-wandering + (@moni-logues you seemed intrigued when we sprinted so I hope this is okay :] )

Divider by @bunnysrph | Moodboard photos from Pinterest/Google, edit is mine :]

[loco-bird]

Oh gosh the moment of the death of the baby 😭😭😭

Man I love how you write poor Odysseus, he had to go forward, yet now that he sees all this suffering he is barely keeping it together... The way he can't take how his men do such cruel acts, how they massacre the king searching for sanctuary in the altar, and he's now seeing their true rage being spilled into these people and rulers and it burns him as well....

Neoptolemus is quite a character, gosh I like how you wrote Odysseus so perturbed at how much such a youth, and a child he brought with him to this war, is enjoying the bloodbath so much and is letting his rage take over! They exchange words like pure poison and knifes! The way you wrote the tension is intense, especially when he reminds him of the man Odysseus let to drown, and Odysseus knowing he both didn't but did kill that man at the same time, because he also did nothing to help him.

And gosh saying that the royal family line of Troy should be cut really went back to haunt Odysseus... He knew there was gonna be death and blood, but to actually see it and to see his men actually enjoying it is another level for him, he was even hoping for some to be spared if they surrendered gosh...

But the peak of it all is definitely when baby Astyanax is brought so roughly and so terrified 😢 It's so touching how Odysseus is doing the best he can to spare the poor child, he did not want to kill a baby like this... It's heartbreaking the way he is even attempting to buy the baby some more time so he at least can come up with some plan to save him, but Neoptolemus simply doesn't let him... I really like how you went with the version of Neoptolemus being the one to kill the poor baby, it fits well with the way you wrote Odysseus, and gosh his absolute shock and distress when he sees him dropping him 😢😢 also it's just so heartbreaking how baby Astyanax confuses Neoptolemus with his father 😭😭 it makes it all so much raw and tragic! Poor little one so terribly young to even understand what was happening! And the way they keep chanting "Sacker of cities" which adds so many more needles into Odysseus heart and soul, you really showed his broken heart and rage so well and how it connects to his name, especially when Neoptolemus praises him in their victory to mock him and to call him the true killer here in such an arrogant way...

The image of the burnt broken city, the slaves, the burnt dead and more surely sound like a hellscape! And Odysseus too exhausted physically and mentally covered in dried blood... Man the scene with Adromache adds even more weight to the heartache... The way she walks full of dignity even tho her whole home and loved ones burn all around her, yet she loses complete composure upon seeing the one who she blames for all that happened! I love how Odysseus doesn't want to face her knowing the part he took on all of this... And how he tried to deny that he killed her baby but can't continue talking!

The way she completely breaks down when she notices her dead baby being carried 😭😭 and the way Odysseus orders them to let her mourn... You can capture emotions so well in your writing and you definitely captured the gut wrenching pain of a mother wailing and screaming for her lost baby, and it definitely hits Odysseus hard too! It's so fitting how his mind immediately goes to his own son that he remembers as a baby because of her words similar to his wife screaming for their own baby!

Oh boy I remember you telling me about this! Such a savage scene Palamedes really went with the lowest move there gosh, someone please arrest him on the spot! 😂 Poor Odysseus was trying so hard to keep his insanity plan but just couldn't help it when his baby was put in harm's way like that! It's so touching the way he immediately stops and checks for his son's safety like that, and his own insanity cover blown but him not caring in his anger, and asking if Palamedes is the one who is insane instead hahaha poor child! Oh man and him telling him not to forget as a challenge!

Oh gosh and Adromache uncovering the fabrics and seeing her baby mangled like that 😢😢 that was such a dark and fitting detail to add to the gravity of it all the way you described how the poor little one's remains were looking like 😰😢 enough to make any mother go insane... And poor Odysseus actually tried to prevent her from doing it... And his mind actually pinched his heart and guilt more by making him picture his own son in such a way...

Him finally wanting to help her get up to keep her dignity and her spitting on his face was definitely the ultimate burn for him... I love how she returns from grief to anger so quickly with just his act to approach her, she doesn't want anything for the one she considers responsible for this 😢

And Odysseus drowns in such guilt but tries so hard... he knows it would only make everything worse for himself to show weakness so he makes the others take her away like that... And she returns to her Queen stance again, tho it's still so heartbreaking that she does not want to get separated from her son's body 😢

Oh man Meriones asking that "Are you alright" hits different with your writing describing the turmoil and storm of emotions going on through Odysseus head all throughout this story 😢 and the way he winces and realizes he must unclench his fist speaks so much louder than his reply 😢

This shows the heaviness and the true ugliness of war even to the victorious side... How the trauma remains for everyone 💔

Fantastic work as always girl, your use of words and emotions are always amazing through the narrative and characters, their humanity is always so natural ❤️❤️❤️✨✨✨👏👏

Thank you for the mention ❤️

Continuing from Part 1;

Guilt (P2)

"And no, that was what you feared...not what you knew. There was no way you would know the magnitude of it...you gave them the city just like you promised. What theh did with it was their responsibility"

If only it were that simple, Odysseus thought

Odysseus could feel his head buzzing all the time. He was feeling tired of killing that night. As he had promised they had plundered Troy in just one fateful night. Odysseus had lost counting at how many lives had fallen under his sword. The palace of Troy had fallen. Troy was burning. As he cut his way through with with sword he remembered bodies falling down; armed or not; soldiers who barely had time to rouse themselves from sleep to come to save their city and yet they rushed at him bravely. Odysseus couldn't decide if he admired them or felt sorry for them.

"Odysseus!" The voice of a soldier brought him back to the present

"What is it?"

"Priam is dead!"

"Dead?!"

That piece of information he feared but he hoped he could prevent.

"Where?"

The man bringing the news was way too nervous for comfort.

"Where!" Odysseus demanded again

"T-To the altar of Zeus...he was slain upon the altar!"

Odysseus nearly dropped his sword! Had they stooped so low, then, in anger and hate?

"Who!" Odysseus demanded, "who did such a blasphemous act?!"

"N-Neoptolemous..."

Odysseus could hardly remember rushing to the scene. Perhaps he remembered the hall drenched in blood and there he saw the dead body of the king; neck gushed open and blood all over the floor. The haunting image of the expression of horror to the old man's face as well as the stain of blood upon the altar were a blurry mess in his brain. All he knew was that he saw that child he had brought to this war, with his face smeared with blood, having a self-complacent smirk on his face. He almost seemed possessed. That damn armor seemed to be one with his skin.

"HAVE YOU LOST YOUR GODDAMN MIND?!" Odysseus bellowed, "How could you do that?! Have you so little respect for the laws of humans that you've stooped to the level of beasts?!"

The way that Neoptolemus looked at him was pure mockery and arrogance gained from victory.

"Now come on, Sacker of Cities...don't pretend that you would have left that man live! He was the king of Troy...just his existence would be a threat. You would have him executed anyways".

Odysseus couldn't remember grabbing the boy by the throat but he was beyond himself. His eyes were two bottomless pools of blackness.

"Do you want to end up like Thersites?!" He threatened in a dangerous whisper, "Do not challenge me, boy!"

"Or what?" Neoptolemus challenged back, "Will you do to me what you did to Palamedes?"

Odysseus was so shocked he could hardly speak. He felt like he had been punched in the stomach. The shock was enough to make him release the threat of the youth and take a few steps back.

"I have no idea what you're talking about" he said

Neoptolemus laughed.

"You are a liar, Odysseus! But then again you always were, weren't you?"

"Palamedes drowned in the sea! It was an accident!"

For a moment the image of ruffling waters had passed through his mind. Palamedes struggling under the surface... Odysseus remembered being frozen. He never tried to jump after him even jf he were an excellent swimmer. He was cold and motionless like a statue. The voice of the arrogant son of Achilles brought him back to reality.

"Yeah, how convenient indeed that he had that small... 'accident' when you and Diomedes were at the same boat with him during that fishing expedition! How convenient indeed!"

"This isn't about me!" Odysseus snapped at him, "This has to do with the hubris you performed here! We do NOT kill those who seek the sanctuary of the gods!"

"Times have changed, old man! You said so yourself! Besides wasn't you the one who implied that the line of the royal family of Troy should be cut? Priam shouldn't live anyways!"

Yes, Odysseus thought,he had said that and by that time he believed jt, however the old man had sought sanctuary. If they waited for him to get exhausted maybe... He could have surrendered. Murder upon sacred place was definitely NOT the way to do it. They could have offered him a nobler death than that! Odysseus didn't have time to reply. He heard a baby cry. He turned around to see in horror a man bringing baby Astyanax and handing him to Neoptolemus. The infant, barely one year of age, was crying woefully as he was handled not at all gently by Neoptolemus, who seemed untouched by the cries. Id anything he seemed to enjoy it

"What about the heir of Troy, Odysseus? What shall happen to him?"

"You can't be serious! It's just a baby!"

"A baby that is almost at the age of walking! Soon at the age of fighting. Will you let him live, Odysseus? You were the one who convinced the council, remember? You said we should all uproot the family of Priam from this earth!".

Yes, once again Odysseus had said that,however he had absolutely forgotten in the heat od the moment how old the heir actually was. The child was barely one. He could hardly speak yet alone walknand fight. Only now had he realized in horror what that promise he partially made would mean. He didn't expect to be brought before the consequences so fast!

"Weren't you the one who persuaded all the Greeks to uproot Priam's long family out of Troy?"

"Yes, but-..."

"So you take your word back? Decide!"

"Decide what?!"

"How he shall die, of course! You can't expect us to raise the son of king Hector, do you? Which will be? Sword or fall?"

The baby...the infant; no older than 1 year of age, was not much older than Telemachus... it was an innocent creature! He watched in terror as Neoptolemus held the baby to the edge of the wall.

"Choose, Odysseus!" Neoptolemus challenged, " or are you taking your words back?"

"This is madness!"

"You said to the council the other night that you would throw all of Priam's line outside these walls!" Neoptolemus insisted, "I believe the phrase you strategically used was 'we can throw them all out of the city of Troy!" I believe everyone agreed with such a sensible idea"

"Odysseus?"

It was the voice of Talthybius. Of course it would be that sleek worm! Odysseus cursed under his teeth. He was supposed to be their messenger and yet he found hik way too compassionate on the Trojan matter. Perhaps he should have gotten rid of him off his position a long time ago!

"Did you really tell the kings to kill this infant? Drag him out of his mother's bosom when she sought sanctuary in her husband's tomb and kill him in such a manner?"

Odysseus pointed his blood-stained sword at the scared messenger.

"Shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you!" He threatened, eyes set aflame

He didn't need any more of those throwing accusations at him and he had enough of this for one night! One madman before him was enough; he didn't need a Troy-friendly coward as wellm

"Stay back! This is none of your concern!"

As Talthybius took some steps back, alarmed at this sudden attack from the furious king of Ithaca, Neoptolemus seemed to enjoy this scene more than the idea of throwing the baby off the walls or stabbing him to death.

"Decide, old man!" He urged again, "Do you take your word back? Every person in that hall heard you and agreed with you! Shown in this pilgrim of the night that you have SOME sense of honor!"

Odysseus was frozen in place. His own words that he didn't mean that way were now twisted in such a horrendous manner before him and bound him like chains. He could not take that word back. His brain was also stuck and his usual eloquent tongue could not find an excuse not to do it now...

"So be it..." he said defeated, "But let us choose a more humane method! Not this, Neoptolemus! Not this!"

He needed to buy himself some time. He needed to think of any reason, ANY excuse to keep this baby alive. Neoptolemus, though, being a true son of his father's, wouldn't let him do that either.

"Not on your life, son of Laërtes! This is the child of the man who thought he could kill my father! His bloody uncle actually succeeded! His filthy kin DARED to harm a man whose mother was a goddess! He needs to die and he shall now!"

At that moment he dragged the toddler almost effortlessly with one hand; strength given only by wrath and hatred, he let him hanging on the wall. The child was crying woefully and then Odysseus thought he heard him speak;

"PAPA!"

He froze. In some terrible realization he figured the horrendous truth. Neoptolemousbhad inherited the golden locks of his father's and his light yes that included the sea and sky. He, Odysseus, was dark of hair, black of eyes, lightly olive tanned white skin...he was similar to HIM...to Hector of Troy. The infant was calling HIM to save him! Panic took over him and he forgot all logic, all his attempts to find excuses. Now the child...the baby...someone's SON (Telemachus!)needed HIS assistance.

"Neoptolemus no! It's just a baby! Let the poor creature go!"

"Very poor choice of words, Odysseus!"

And Neoptolemus did exactly what he was told...he let go! The baby fell out of the palace walls, leaving gravity take the body rapidly down.

"NOOOOOOO!" Odysseus yelled helplessly but that's all he could do.

He ran at the edge only to see a tiny bloody dot at the bass kd the wall. The haunting cries had stopped...forever.

"NEOPTOLEMUS!" Odysseus bellowed furiously, "you killed him! You killed an infant!"

"No, Odysseus!" Neoptolemus replied, "You did. Your plan, your advise, your sin."

Odysseus felt dizzy...his stomach twisted dangerously but he did herculean effort to hold himself back. There was so much he wanted to say...so much he wanted to scream but he found it impossible to utter a single sound.

"TROY HAS FALLEN!" the happy cry from the inside of the castle drew them out of this, "WAR IS OVER! HOORAY! HOORAY FOR THE SACKER OF CITIES!"

Odysseus felt like losing strength off his legs. He didn't even know how to feel. However he knew one thing. He was feeling ENRAGED. It was as if the name that was given to him by his grandfather now suddenly made sense! He glared daggers yo Neoptolemus but the arrogant boy only smiled self-complacently...

"Looks like you were right, old man... You DID take the city in one night..."

Odysseus looked beyond the walls. If was true. The sun was rising...although his light was now duller in his eyes; the fires were stronger...

*

The walls of Troy had fallen and the real damage was apparent the next morning following the massacre. The houses had burnt almost to the ground and only the strongest walls were still standing upright; sad reminder of their previous glory. Odysseus was standing there with some of his men, watching the march of wounded or future slaves coming out of the city in chains or ropes. The ways were known. They would be distributed to some of the kings among them and the rest would be given by luck to the rest of the people. After that thy should gather and burn the dead before they would be good to go... Odysseus looked aged almost ten years more. He had dark circles under his eyes and he still didn't have time to wash himself from the blood. The thick liquid had formed a crust upon him by that moment. Helen was secured and brought out of the city to safety by Menelaus. So everything seemed to be in place. Then, why would he feel as if he had to use all his will to endure it and keep a stone calm face? His attention was drawn to the part of the procession. It was Andromache, the queen and widow of Hector. Odysseus grimaced. He had hoped he wouldn't face that woman. She was walking upright with the dignity even the greatest of Queens would be jealous of, as if she were the mighty Hera. Even if she was in chains she was still holding her head high. Odysseus learnt that she was to be given to Neoptolemous. He watched the queen marching to be given to the man that murdered her son... The man they now called Sacker of Cities didn't know which was sadder for her. He had tried to persuade Neoptolemous to take another but all his pleas or even manipulation fell on deaf ears. In the end he wondered if it mattered... At that moment his onyx eyes locked with the eyes of the queen. And then he saw her face transform from purr dignity to pure hatred in a matter of seconds!

"ODYSSEUS!" she yelled at him, pulling the chains with all her strength, "YOU SPAWN OF THIEVES AND RAGGED SCHEMER! THIS IS ALL YOUR DOING! GODS SHALL THROW THEIR RAGE UPON YOU!"

Odysseus didn't have time to defend himself.

"It was all your idea! Your plan! You scheming bastard could not fight with honor! But how could you! HOW COULD YOU!"

Her rage gave her strength anew as she managed to crawl closer. Even Odysseus took half a step back.

"HE WAS JUST ONE YEAR OLD ODYSSEUS!DO YOU HAVE NO HEART?!"

The king of Ithaca froze. He had no idea how she had found out about it but then it hit him. Talthybius! Of course! He must have talked to her.

"HE WAS JUST A BABY! HOW COULD YOU!"

"I didn't..." he whispered more to himself than anything else

"CURSE UPON YOU!" she drew her chains again and even the soldier needed to pull back, "I knew they wouldn't let him live! But this?! THIS?! HE WAS JUST ONE YEAR OLD ODYSSEUS! Just one year-..."

And then there was a heart-wrenching cry. Suddenly her anger turned into outpost pain. Odysseus turned his head and realized the reason. The small wrapped up ball could be nothing else but the remains of her son. One of the Greeks was transferring them to the pyre for the funeral. Odysseus cursed everything he believed in. He had hoped they would be spared at least of that! Both her and him. Andromache fell on her knees trying to release herself and get closer to the wrapped up package.

"MY BOY!" she cried, "AH! MY BOY!"

The soldier was ready to take the package away but Odysseus stopped him.

"No! Let her mourn!"

Unwillingly the man placed the child on the ground as she crawled over it, hands still tied up, not allowing her to wrap her arms around the remains of her son or even scratch her cheeks to mourn... Odysseus watched her kneel almost like an animal mourning her calf, leaning her forehead against the bloodied cloth

"MY BEAUTIFUL BOY!" Andromache's voice rose in an inhuman tone of cries and woe

The king of Ithaca felt his heart pinch. Yes, he has heard that cry before. It was an eternity ago in Ithaca...when Palamedes had come to pick him up...

*

Odysseus was plowing the field, singing an incoherent song. He was moving his head to an unmatched rhythm. He had tied one donkey and one cow to the plow, plowing in a totally messy way. He seemed to pay no mind. Odysseus was very keen upon his disguise as a madman. Palamedes was watching the scene with Penelope from afar as his beloved queen was playing with their son in her arms.

"He has been doing that all day..." Penelope said in her melodious voice, "He listens to no one when they tell him that this is not right. My husband insists that this is the best way to plow the field."

Penelope knew her part very well. They had agreed upon it after all. Part of it was her idea too. She didn't want him to go to war and he didn't want either. Not now that they had their son to take care of. Palamedes looked suspiciously at the scene.

"I find it hard to believe the mighty Odysseus losing his mind like this...it is so fast and so sad to be true..."

He approached closer.

"Come on, Odysseus, son of Laërtes! We have work to do, we have to get ready for the war!"

Odysseus didn't reply and continued his work. Penelope approached.

"My lord, as you see, my husband is a very sick man. He cannot help you in this war. I am afraid you must find someone else..."

Palamedes looked at her sideways before turning his gaze back at Odysseus.

"Such a shame though..." he whispered as if to himself, "Such a brilliant mind...be condemned in such a way... Seems such a waste..."

He eyed Penelope and something inside her heart flattered. She didn't like that look.

"But perhaps..." Palamedes started, "I might have a cure for his...illness..."

Penelope raised a brow.

"My lord?"

No sooner had she voiced that word and Palamedes yanked Telemachus out of her arms.

"NO!" Penelope cried out surprised, "What are you doing?! Stop!"

Telemachus screeched and cried as Palamedes ran towards the field.

"NO! MY BOY!" Penelope cried out

Odysseus barely had time to see with the corner of his eye Palamedes throw his infant son to the front of the two giant animals plowing! His mind did not think twice.

"WOOO BOY! WOO! WOO!" his mighty hands pulled the reigns stopping the plow barely a few inches away from the crying baby

Rushing to the spot he picked up his precious son to his hands, he raised him to his head, he inspected those little limbs and that soft head... He sighed in relief when he found no major injuries to that little body.

"Shh..sh sh...my boy..." he cooed at his son, "It's okay...it's okay..."

His gaze was fiery as he looked up to Palamedes.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR DAMNED MIND?!" he bellowed, "You nearly killed my son!"

Palamedes seemed uninterested at that coy as he smirked.

"Welcome back to the world of sanity, Odysseus. So now I believe we can talk about the preparations of the war, according to the oath you gave. Let us cut this charade and be men..."

Ashamed, humbled but above all ENRAGED, Odysseus looked up from his kneeling position, still cooing his son, trying to calm him.

"That was a low blow, even for you!" He growled at him

"You are the one to talk, son of Laërtes!" Palamedes retorted, "you are the one who always schemes to avoid his responsibilities!"

"Yes but I don't use innocent infants for it! I shall not forget this Palamedes!"

"I seriously hope you won't" Palamedes retorted, "So that we won't add 'oathbreaker' to your list of titles!"

*

Oh how enraged he had been! And yet now he remembered that moment for a totally different reason! Now he was seeing that woman who used to be a mighty queen screaming and crying over that small ball that used to be her son. She was doubling over and over, crying.

"MY BOY! NO NO NO! NO! MY SON!"

At some point she managed to grasp the cloth

"No! Don't-...!"

The cloth revealed a ball of flesh that the face and the little bones were no more recognizable. Odysseus shut his eyes closed for one secondm

"Telemachus!" He thought, "No! Not him...that's not him..."

Andromache screeched in woe as she doubled over at that small ball of flesh that used to play around a few days ago, hitting her chest with the last bits of her hands, pulling on her chains maniacally. Odysseus could take no more. He went close to her. She was a queen, she had to pull it together.

"Get up..." he whispered huskily, "please get up...for your son..."

Andromache shot her head up and spat straight on his face. The saliva from her mouth burnt his cheek like fire; like the fire that now existed in her eyes. Her woe had stopped, apart from those tears that turned her eyes red. Hatred returned...and it was all directed to him... The Man of Many Ways felt his heart turn into marble; hard and cold. He stood up to his full height wiping his cheek with his hand. He felt the dirt and blood smearing in combination with the spit. All of Troy's massacre had fallen upon him...

"Take her out of here!" He ordered in a low, cold voice

If I show weakness...I'm lost...

Andromache struggled only for one minute and that would be so that she wouldn't be separated from her son (the son that now a soldier was picking up again, sparing everyone from the unpleasant task seeing the child). She then followed her captures. She was a queen again. The only thing you could hear was some low cry.

"Odysseus..." Meriones approached him, "Are you alright?"

Odysseus winced in pain. He hadn't realized that he had clenched his fist so hard that it hurt him. He unclenched it.

"Yes..." he whispered, "Yes, I'm fine"

*

Sooo Part 2! Soon the closure will come! Dedication to some hood friends such as @aaronofithaca05 @simugeuge @prompted-wordsmith @loco-bird @jarondont

[bakuvantea]

HEY BESTIE I HOPE YOUR HAVING AN AMAZING DAY

CAN I GET SOME GENERAL HEADCANONS WITH SUNG JIN-WOO WITH A FEMALE S/O

FEEL FREE TO IGNORE BUT REMEMBER TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF

>:)

general relationship headcanons of sung jin-woo with his beloved s/o

- warnings: none! just a tad bit of nsfw implications

- audience: I made this gender neutral, i do hope that’s okay!!

- a/n: hello >:) anonnn (may i call u that? lmao-) here’s your request love!! thank you for your kind words <33 stay heathy, stay hydrated, and always rest up okay? hope you have an amazing day ahead too!!

also idk who jacob is-

-•-

: pre-awakened jin-woo (before entering the carthenon temple)

> he was always cautious, he didn't want [you] to hear the whispers going around about how you could've chosen someone better, about how you could've loved someone that was not him. thus, he was very shy and timid, always on edge when he feels the piercing stares from his batchmates -most especially when you try to initiate physical contact with him in your school or in public, you'd see him uncomfortable and so you'd immediately stop (because you respect him, ily). behind closed doors though he would always go above and beyond in pleasing you and making you feel loved, although he always doubts himself so you always make sure to give him praises and assure him that he is the one you love (not that jerk jacob from the class next door).

> he always wears spare hair ties or hair pins around his wrists in case you forget or lose yours. in fact when its weekends -and when he's not out infiltrating dungeons and positively offering his life on a silver platter- he always tries to study new hairdos and hairstyles so he can have more variations and choices when he ties or pins your hair for you. he'd always kiss the top of your head after and you'd feel his smile as he nuzzles your hair, smelling your shampoo. since his hair is also long, you'd also return the favor and tie his hair for him. his favorite would have to be the classic apple look with a pointy lock of hair erect in the middle -he really looks like a shih tzu, adorable-

> he.blushes.so.easily !!! he is very weak to praises and your lil kisses that pepper his face. you can see him glow and you even see his smile evidently becoming wider despite him shying away from you, looking downwards to avoid your loving gaze.

> he may be sht but he is also very playful towards you, teasing you and throwing pillows at you when you’re in his room, what a baby.

> often during dates he'd always need to leave early because he really needs to earn money and g to the dungeons. although you try to offer him some of your savings or your help during the dungeon raids, he'd always reject your offer, thinking of how it may burden you or the dungeon raids may possibly hurt you. you don't listen to him though, you give some of your savings to his sister when you cross paths in your school, and you'd always register after him in raids or call up someone you know to have you join in.

"(name) why are you here?!"

"angel face, i can handle myself just fine. it's my choice to help you and whether you like it or not, i've also been called for this raid. come love, we're going in."

> you'd always take his blue hoodie and wear it. he gets so shy when you smell it.

he gets frantic when you take his hoodie and start sniffing it, exclaiming; "stop! i smell weird."

you raise an eyebrow at him, "woo, you smell fine. i like it."

he tries to stutter a remark but was silenced by your smile.

> you always try to visit his mother with him and his sister, jinah. you always talk to their mother out loud and you'd see jinah smile gently at you and jin-woo trying to stop sniffles from escaping his lips by biting them and covering his face with his hoodie.

jinah: u simp

jin-woo: shut it

> he loved cuddles! but he really likes kissing your cheeks. he loves how soft they are and he loves feeling your cheeks move when you smile or laugh at his cute antics.

> he loves you so so dear

: post-awakened jin-woo (after the events of the carthenon temple)

> oh, dear it's the monarch-

> you weren't with him when he raided the "d-rank" dungeon that then turned out to be,, well pretty much a bloodbath, so you were very worried when you heard word of the news. you and jinah basically ran to the hospital and when you caught sight of him you almost fell down from relief and pure shock in seeing the state he's in. well, not long after though suddenly he's all buff and you were really trying to make sense of what's happening.

you: hello there good sir, what in the name of fck are you doing in my boyfriend’s room all sweaty and half-naked😀

jin-woo: (name) it’s me

you: haha yes, sir ‘it’s me’ that’s a pretty weird name but i don't judge, anyways my baby boy is not here uhm haha please get out of my boyfriend’s room

jin-woo: (name) it’s really me!

you: no sir, my woo radiates baby energy, you on the other hand radiates big dilf energy, haha i do not like what i am sensing so please for the life of me leave-

(jinah had to convince you that it is indeed jin-woo, you had her stop you from trying to hold his tiddies)

> you were very happy in seeing how confident he’s become, and you were even more proud with how he still says so humble despite his new accomplishments and title.

> it was obvious that he has become distant with others and have set a boundary between him and other hunters, you accept that part of him though since you know just how much he has gone through. he may act aloof towards others but he’s still very playful and comfortable with you.

> you have also noticed another thing though, he has become a bit possessive or much protective over you and jinah. he’d always have you bring a shadow with you to guard you when he can’t be with you. also, when someone stares at you for far too long, he’d step in and go, “hey there pal” and oh gosh was that enough to get the guy running (pretty damn hot)

> you still visit his mom with him, he doesn’t cry now though.

> when he trains, you’d insist on lying down below him when he does push-ups. you’d kiss him every time he swoops down and you’d hear him laugh which then makes you giggle as you hold his cheeks between your hands

> jinah is sick of the two you, always screaming about how on earth did her brother get an s/o before her, the audacity!

> his shadows adore you, of they’d always try to impress you or get head pats when you tell jin-woo to summon them for you. you live them to bits and always thanks them for a job well done in helping jin-woo with his raids. on the first time you accompanied him for a raid -you had to bribe him with more cuddles- and you were shocked with how his sweet adorable shadows turned a full 180, becoming ruthless towards the enemies. quite a show you’d say. after though, they’re back to flocking over you, even dismissing jin-woo lmao

jin-woo, watching you give each shadows head pats: i hate it here

you: get in line then

> it may be due to his newly acquired talents and his current mental and physical prowess but he has become more perceptive towards you. he can always read you and know just what your mood is and he always tries to make you feel better by giving his whole attention to you.

> of but of course, since dear jin-woo has become quite the looker, you also notice how girls flock over to him. and especially miss hae-in (she’s very sweet yes, but hey that’s your man so like—). the moment you discovered that she left her guild to join jin-woo’s, and then confessed (well basically she did) to your man, well you were upset but really who could blame her? instead of taking your frustrations out on her and your boyfriend, you decided to just talk it out with jin-woo and ask him about how it went. the two of you cleared it out and you got kisses and maybe even more after that ;))

> you and jin-ho are menaces to society when you are together, he hates how endearing and annoying you two can be. i mean, does he really hate it? nope, he absolutely loves seeing you two interact, although his head always throbs when you two start screaming to britney, gaga, and doja.

> a tease, he has become the master of being a tease, you hate it and love it at the same time. he’d trail kisses down your neck to your thighs and leave some marks then he’d suddenly walk away while asking you what take-out you want. rude, that’s what he is. ofc he always finished what he starts tho oop-

> he always randomly bites you now, you don’t know why but it’s really cute when he starts nibbling so you let him be.

> so extra when he tells you that he loves you. he professes it in such weird but adorable ways. one time he had printed out ‘i love you so much’ on a big-ass tarpaulin and had his shadows hold it for him while he’s kneeling down smoldering at you. you hate him so much (you don’t-). or that one time he bought a bouquet basket and had a ring tied to one of the flowers, you had to take the bouquet apart since the damn ring fell to the very bottom.

> sometimes when he gets back to the agency after his dungeon raids you and jin-ho would see him all grumpy and you immediately know that either he wasn’t able to make the enemy his soldier or his coat got ruined.

jin-woo: *sad noises*

jin-ho: that’s okay, you can kill and slaughter the others and take their souls next time

you: jin-ho couldn’t you have worded that better-

over-all, he’s the bestest boyfriend, such a sweet and handsome pretty boy much strong and reliable we love him<333

-•-

- a/n: i can add more to this if you’d like!! just hit me up again lmao it’s too long now so-

[5bi5]

Some grammar/writing tips:

- Two complete sentences with a comma in between them is a comma splice. Either use a period or a semicolon instead of a comma, add a conjoining word like and or but, or drop the subject after the comma.

Incorrect: He took a deep breath, he was nervous about the interview.

Correct: He took a deep breath; he was nervous about the interview. / He took a deep breath. He was nervous about the interview. / He took a deep breath, nervous about the interview.

- This one seems kind of basic, but please check if you're using the correct form of your/you're, there/their/they're, were/we're, well/we'll, etc. Sometimes even if you know the difference this will get messed up because of autocorrect. Just edit your work before you publish it/hand it in, and google the definition or ask somebody else to proofread it if you're not sure if you're using the correct form.

- Separate your work into paragraphs if it's more than about five sentences long. Big chunks of text don't look good and they're harder to read. Start a new paragraph for a new idea, or when a new character is speaking.

- If one piece of dialogue goes over two paragraphs, you don't need the closing quotation mark until they finish talking, just an opening quotation mark for each paragraph.

Incorrect: "I went to a hockey game once." Harold said. "It was alright, but the beer was really expensive. Plus, the ref didn't make half the calls he should have, and the game turned into a bloodbath halfway through. I hate seeing people fight in sports. If I wanted to watch guys punch each other, I'd have gone to a boxing match."

"Now, tennis, on the other hand, that's a civilized sport. I've never seen a bloodbath at a tennis game. The players do the thing they came to do, and the audience sees the thing they came to watch. I'd watch tennis over hockey any day."

Correct: "I went to a hockey game once." Harold said. "It was alright, but the beer was really expensive. Plus, the ref didn't make half the calls he should have, and the game turned into a bloodbath halfway through. I hate seeing people fight in sports. If I wanted to watch guys punch each other, I'd have gone to a boxing match.

"Now, tennis, on the other hand, that's a civilized sport. I've never seen a bloodbath at a tennis game. The players do the thing they came to do, and the audience sees the thing they came to watch. I'd watch tennis over hockey any day."

- This is more a matter of personal preference than a hard and fast rule, but don't overuse epithets. Epithets should be used to communicate something new about the character; you don't need to use them every other sentence. Just call them by their name or their pronouns. So many fanfics in particular refer to characters as "the younger man", "the taller man", "the sly woman", "the raven-haired girl", constantly throughout the story. Please, I'm begging you, just say the characters' names.

- The possessive its doesn't have an apostrophe. It's means it is. Its means belonging to it. A lot of people seem to struggle with this one because it's not all that intuitive.

Incorrect: She hung up her new velvet dress, running a hand along it's sleeve as she did so.

Correct: She hung up her new velvet dress, running a hand along its sleeve as she did so.

- Generally, a full sentences requires a subject, a verb, and usually an object. There are exceptions to this, such as exclamations, and it can be ignored for stylistic reasons. However, most sentences should contain at least a subject and a verb, and probably a subject, a verb, and an object. The subject is the person or thing that is doing the verb. The object is the person or thing the verb is being done to. In the sentence "she sells seashells", she is the subject, sells is the verb, and seashells is the object.

- Be consistent about what tense you're using. A common mistake is to switch back and forth between past and present tense in the middle of a story. It's easy to miss when you're writing, but can be jarring for the reader. Make sure to check for this when you're editing.

[k-llama-llama]

Bloodbath

Stray Kids AU: 9th member

Tori x Stray Kids 

A mishap during their second Kingdom performance causes some complications.

A/N: Please check out my PATREON (patreon.com/kllamallama) for exclusive posts you can’t get anywhere else, as well as lots of other cool benefits!

Requests are OPEN and your feedback is still greatly appreciated!

Masterlist and other Follow Me links in bio!

“If someone comes at me with a giant magnet, it’s game over.” Tori chuckled.

Chan rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who said you wanted to be sparkly.”

“Yeah, sparkly. Not add ten pounds in jewelry.”

They were moments away from their second performance on Kingdom, and Tori was still trying to get used to her outfit. They had rehearsed in their outfits earlier, but Tori had had a bunch of jewelry added right before filming started. Now, in addition to her nose ring and multitudes of earrings, she also had a bunch of rings and a chain around her waist.

“You look pretty, Noona.” Jeongin offered.

“Thanks.” She shook her hands out, trying to get used to the weight on her hands. “Are we about ready?”

“Just a few more minutes.” Someone replied.

Tori bounced on her heels for a few more minutes, before taking her place for the start of Side Effects.

The performances for Kingdom were fun because they could move around and really interact with the camera. Without Hyunjin there, they were working harder to make sure that their choreographies would be good not only for the viewers, but for the professional panel of judges.

Side Effects started off without a hitch, and Tori moved into place for her first solo shot. They’d rehearsed this section of the choreography what felt like a hundred times, but when she dragged her hands up her stomach like she’d been practicing, she felt her hand snag on her new jewelry.

She didn’t let the panic show on her face. The next move required her to swipe a hand across her face in time with Felix, and it was a point move.

So without thinking, Tori ripped her hand free and continued with the dance. As she moved her hand across her face, she felt a warm liquid coat her skin. When the camera moved away for a moment, she looked down, but couldn’t make out anything beyond a dark stain spreading down her white sleeve.

She’d cut herself, she realized. She didn’t have time to check how badly, but from what she could see in the dim light, it wasn’t good. There was no pain, but she doubted she’d be able to feel any of it over her pounding heartbeat.

There would be time to deal with this later. Right now, she had a performance to finish.

As they struck their ending poses, Tori breathed heavily, forcing herself to appear composed for the camera. A light went off signaling the switch from the performance cameras to the show cameras, and they all stood up as the lights turned on.

“Tori.” Chan grabbed her elbow. “Are you alright?”

Adrenaline still pounding in her ears, Tori just shook her head. “We can deal with this when we’re back in the room.”

“You’re bleeding on the floor.” He hissed, worry clear in his voice. “Where did you cut yourself?”

He started to lead her off stage, following the others to their dressing room.

“My hand.” She whispered. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“It will.”

Tori let herself look down at her hand. Chan was keeping it elevated with his grip on her elbow, but it was a lot more gruesome than she’d thought. Her sleeve was stained bright red and sticking to her skin. Now that she focused on it, she could feel a twinge on the outside of her hand, but she couldn’t see the cut.

“Is it bad?” She asked quietly.

“We’ll just get a medic to look at it.” Chan reassured. “Jeongin, run ahead!”

Tori wanted to shout at the maknae to come back. There were still cameras on them and they had to walk right by the other groups’ rooms. Having him run by in a panic would only draw attention to the issue. She could already envision how this would look on TV, with her arm blurred out and the group in a panic.

The world tilted sideways.

“Minho!” Chan snapped, catching Tori against his side.

“I’m fine. I’m fine.” She repeated as Minho looped his arm around her waist.

“You really don’t look fine.” Minho helped Chan walk her forward.

“I’m getting blood on you.” She mumbled.

“It’s fine, Tor.” Chan promised. “I think you’re in shock.”

 “That seems likely.” She agreed. She didn’t feel ill, but there was a growing pain in her hand and the world seemed to be  bit fuzzy around the edges.

“That was amazing guys!” San’s voice exclaimed as they moved by.

“Thanks, we gotta go.” Felix said quickly. Clearly all of the boys were aware of her injury, and anxious to get her into the dressing room where she could be looked after.

“Tori, that bit with the blood was so cool! You should – “ Seonghwa appeared in her line of vision, leaning out of doorway. “Woah, what’s wrong?”

“It wasn’t a blood bit, and we’ve got to go.” Chan shouldered past them, and together he and Minho lowered her onto a chair in the dressing room.

“That was rude.��� Tori scolded.

“You were getting blood everywhere.” Minho kept his hand on her shoulder. “We didn’t really have time to chat.”

One of the medical staff appeared in front of them, and Tori turned her attention to the woman. A towel was spread out on the ground, and then she started pouring water on Tori’s hand to try and get a better look at the wound.

When it was finally visible, Tori thought she might be sick.

“That’s disgusting.” Changbin recoiled.

“How did you keep dancing?” Seungmin exclaimed.

“Adrenaline, I guess.” Tori turned her face away from the jagged cut on her hand. “How bad is it?”

“Stitches, for sure.” The staff member gave her a sympathetic smile. “We’ll wrap it up and take you to the hospital.”

Tori caught her reflection in the mirror. She had blood smeared across her forehead and down her cheek, and she looked a few shades paler than was normal. “I look like a murder victim.”

“Here.” Jisung perched himself on the dressing table counter, a wet wipe in hand. “I’ve got it.”

Tori tried not to wince as the staff member wrapped her hand, letting Jisung clean all of the blood off her face.

“Your clothes still look gruesome.” He noted.

“I wasn’t a fan of the all-white anyways.” Tori sighed, turning to Chan. “Are they going to have to tell everyone?”

“I think they already are. You’re going to be absent for the rest of filming today.” He smoothed back her hair, before grimacing. “You have blood in your hair.”

“Gross.” Tori sighed. “Did I at least look cool during the performance?”

“Apparently you looked like a badass. But now everyone is freaking out because they’re mopping your blood off of the floor.”

“I hope it doesn’t delay filming too much.” Tori’s eyes widened.

“It’ll be fine, Tor. Just worry about yourself.” Minho smiled.

“On the bright side, I think a certain someone is very worried about you.” Felix looked back from where he was leaning out the door.

“A certain someone?” Chan asked.

Tori flushed. “Shut up, Felix.”

“What’s he talking about?” Chan looked down at her.

“Nothing.” She shook her head quickly. “He just knows I hate being the center of attention.”

“You picked the wrong job then.” Jisung hauled her to her feet.

“Let’s get you to the hospital.” The medical staff, grabbed her elbow. She didn’t feel dizzy anymore, but she knew that they had to be careful.

“Have fun filming.” She waved weakly with her good hand, not even glancing at the ball of gauze that was her other hand.

“We won’t have too much fun, Noona.” Jeongin promised.

She gave them a weak smile, following the staff out of the room.

The hallway was mostly deserted, except for the door of Ateez’s dressing room. Seonghwa was standing there, arms crossed and arguing with their manager.

“Tori!” He exclaimed when he saw her. “Are you okay?”

She pointed at her bandaged hand. “Off to get stitches.”

“Seriously?” He gasped. “You cut yourself that badly?”

“Looks that way.” She nodded. “On my jewelry during the performance.”

“Well…” He shook his head, looking for the right words. “This is probably weird to say because you’re hurt, but it looked freaking awesome during the performance.”

“That’s something at least.” She smiled. “I need to go get my hand put back together, but I’ll talk to you later?”

“For sure.” He grinned. “I hope you guys win.”

“I hope you guys win too.” She teased.

[khneltea]

FRIENDLY REMINDER TO ALL IN THE MARIBAT FANDOM

edit (22.03.09): thanks @izanae for mentioning that this ALSO APPLIES TO AO3

please, when tagging your creations and works, do not use #(insert first name) wayne, #marinette dupain cheng, #miraculous ladybug #dc comics/universe #(insert dc/miraculous ladybug character) solely without the implication of a crossover because this is what gets maribat onto feed recommendations of antis and we don't want fighting. here is a list of acceptable tags to use, examples of such, and some implications of these. my tags are going to feature some of the acceptable tags to use

# maribat(insert character name)

# maribatdamian wayne

# maribatmarinettedupaincheng

# maribatjasontodd

# maribatlukacouffaine

edit: thanks @legends-live-in-memories for the tip and heads up! so updated version because tumblr has shitty search engines and tagging stuff, it's better for any mention of characters to have no space because if they have spaces, it includes keywords instead of solely the tag so yeah. this also applies with character x character, do it like characterxcharacter

# maribat

# maribat (whatever)

# maribat quotes

# maribat prompts

# maribat headcanon

# incorrect maribat

# incorrect maribat quotes

# maribat recs

# maribat recommendations

# dc comics x miraculous / miraculous ladybug

# dcxml

# mlxdc

# mlbxdc

# dcxmlb

# dc crossover

# ml crossover

# (crossover* ship names)

# daminette

# jasonette

# shutterbug

*note the word crossover in this statement. any other word or phrase that is in italics also applies this note. while you are still using the correct ship names and pairings, the whole point of using these specific tags is to avoid and have decent respect for people who genuinely do not enjoy this ship (which they are entitled to). when you are mentioning ships that are only related to one specific fandom (e.g. adrienette, djwifi, damijon, nightfire), either add 'maribat' before or after the ship name

# (character) x (character)*

# damianwaynexmarinettedupaincheng

# jasonxmarinette

# timxchloe

# maribatadrienxmarinette

# (insert ramble about maribat or your concept/idea/ff/drabble/hc)

# who the hell asked for timari # actually no one did i just really wanted to write about it # y'all can fight me meet me in the mosh pit # platonic daminette isn't written about nearly enough without them being siblings # daminette can be platonic too stfu

to be honest, i just inserted this because i love looking at the tags some people write underneath their actual fic

# (insert vague tag in relation to this fic)

# romance

# coffee

# soulmate au

# salt

ok look now i know i said that the point was to stay out of the way of the antis and everything by using specific tags to not bother them but this one is public property. if they try to imply that we maribat content creators and fandom cannot use these types of tags without saying maribat then i guess they'll have to take it up with every. single. fucking. fandom. there. fucking. is.

hope this was helpful and please for the love of all things fandom follow this because i don't want another tumblr bloodbath

if you are a person in the maribat community, please spread this. if you are an anti, please spread this (look, mr/ms/mx anti, if you spread this post, people who follow you and are in the maribat fandom will hopefully stop posting this stuff on your feed so win for you, win for us). if you are a person in the dc universe fandom or the mlb universe fandom who just doesn't give a damn, please spread this. tag the people you know who are even remotely related to any of the topics i have just raised. get the word out so that we don't step on each other's toes.

also:

[subtle-edge-of-rot]

Hey. I wanna ask you this for Michael Myers mainly, but you can wrote for the other slashers too but how do you think he'd be as a vampire? Bc I may or may not have an idea in my head atm.

I feel as though he'd be extremely cocky, smug and arrogant, as well as terrifying. The thirst would annoy him, but it'd also give him another reason to kill people. Idk that's just me.

Ayyy I am all about this request, because I am hyper fixated on Mikey right now. I actually agree with a lot of your ideas as well, so I’ve incorporated some of them. I hope you enjoy, @el-los-world !

Remember, my requests are open!

🧛‍♂️Vampire!Michael🧛‍♂️

Always thirsty—legit always. It makes his throat burn, and his stomach clench uncomfortably around emptiness. So as a result, he’s nearly constantly out on the prowl, using humans as Capri Sun pouches.

He has upper and lower fangs. The upper ones are larger than the lower ones, and quite long. If he spoke, they would likely affect his speech—maybe a slight lisp.

Blood red eyes that have a glowing affect, just like nocturnal animals.

His hunting habits are a bit on the unpredictable side. One day he’ll stalk and attack, another day he’ll just go on a bloodbath rampage, leaving drained bodies in his wake until he’s satisfied his bloodlust.

He usually plays with his food before eating it (unless he’s on a desperate rampage). He’ll drag his beloved blade lightly across the skin, lapping up any rivulets or droplets of blood with his tongue—it’s almost like an appetizer for him.

The mask is on when he’s out hunting, for the fear factor. He modified it a bit so that his mouth is visible—it makes feeding easier and when he bares his teeth, it just increases the terror.

He doesn’t bother to hide his tracks because he’s cocky—even if the police did find him, what could they do to stop him? Their bullets won’t do anything. Tear gas wouldn’t do shit. He’s indestructible and untouchable.

Very messy eater—blood dribbles out the sides of his mouth and down over his chin. He wipes it up with his fingers and sucks the blood off of them like Cheeto dust.

He loves to prey on members of the clergy. They assume that demons and other creatures of the night can’t enter because they’re damned…but he can waltz right in whenever he pleases. Their god has no power over him so it adds to the power trip.

He can and will use his natural vampire allure to seduce a victim before he drains them, so he’s able to meet all of his carnal needs.

[chemicalpink]

대취타 (DAECHWITA) | EMPEROR!YOONGI X READER | FINAL

Pairing: Emperor!Yoongi x Assassin!Reader

Words: 3.5k

Genre: Emperor AU, Historical AU (kinda), smut, angsty

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of historical public execution, oral sex (male receiving), lowkey breath play, unprotected sex

A/N: FINALLY IT’S HERE. I hope you enjoy, I had a hard time trying to make this not seem lame so here it is! please let me know what you think!

Summary: You used to be an assassin, got caught and works at the palace as a servant up until you are escorted to the main palace, either to meet your inevitable destiny or for a change of plans. 

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Forehead resting against your own as you found yourselves panting, him sliding out as your spasming cunt dripped with both of your releases onto the floor, placing one more soft kiss on your lips with his eyes closed “Marry me”

 You almost sat up with a start. Suddenly the world was bright and hazy. Yoongi had opened his eyes and they were digging like daggers into yours, an unusual look on him. You looked at the emperor apologetically before turning your gaze to the end of the room where there was a pile of books, silently detangling yourself from him.

The silence was deafening.

Then again, who in their right mind proposed marriage while having their cock buried deep inside some assassin turned royal slave. All the same, Min Yoongi wasn’t exactly known for having a right mind. But it wasn’t just the fact that he had proposed seemingly out of the blue, more than it was everything that came with it. The words seemed to tangle themselves inside your brain as you hear him say them over and over again. That he couldn’t think of himself marrying some woman that was inferior to him in mind and spirit. That he had wanted to marry to someone he loved. To think that Min Yoongi had proposed you marriage not in the heat of the moment but fully conscious of his actions would not only mean that he was in it for the great sexual escaped you two regularly went on, but because due to some fucked up mindset the royal had, he believed he could love you. 

Yoongi reached for your hand in an attempt to get your attention, face soft with post orgasmic bliss as he repeated the ill fated words “Marry me, Y/N”

You  snapped out of his hold. “Yoongi I don’t think you understand the situation”

“What is it then, please do enlighten me, Y/N cause from what I understand is me asking for your hand in marriage, twice now” he blinks a few times, looking at you expectantly, crossing his arms like a petulant child

“FUCKING READ THE ROOM MIN YOONGI ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND”

“Well I’m not, but you seem to be”

“I’m a fucking assassin, my hands? they will forever be tainted red” you look down at your hands and the blond man comes near to hold both of them inside his 

“Y/N I couldn’t care less about that, it’s not like I’m a saint either”

“You just don’t understand”

“Then help me out” somehow his ever consistent and aloof tone gave you more chills thana you could’ve imagined if he were to raise his voice at you “Y/N I’m serious with my proposal, the sex is amazing, but you’ve proven to be an excellent addition not only to my court, but to my life”

You are shaking, voice trembling and just above a mere whisper “I was the one that killed your mother on that freezing December night”

He freezes in place.

He seemed oddly composed for someone who had just been told the responsible of his mother's death was none other than the woman he thought he wanted to marry

You remember how a few years ago, he had gone on a killing rampage, exposing heads outside his palace as if they were homemade decorations, swearing to find the person responsible for his mother’s death and get revenge. It had been months of bloodbath. Some had considered the emperor’s son to have gone completely out of his mind. 

You storm off. Not before accepting the responsibility of your actions, perhaps Yoongi had also been a good addition to your life “I’m fine with you deciding to execute me for my crimes, I understand whatever sentence is best fitted for me, your majesty” for the first time since you had arrived at the palace, you don’t dare to look him in the ye, opting to follow court protocol and bow deeply before taking your leave, attempting to detangle yourself from your messed up robes and even more messed up string of thoughts.

The following days to that conversation were a blur and for the most part, uneventful, the emperor had opted not to gravitate your way unless strictly necessary, oddly enough, the air wasn’t awkward at all, it was as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you in the first place. Yoongi had retreated to being an aloof ruler, along with regular trips to meet his once very occupied and spoiled rotten concubines, all the while you were kept apart from. Sometimes, you would receive jobs outside the palace and were expected to fulfill them according to instructions. More times than not, you were left wondering if you would make it back to the palace or if it was one hell of an excuse to execute you.

Hearing approaching footsteps, you couldn’t help but hide the best that you could behind one of the hostel’s walls. Hooded and well muffled with the cape, as you did your best to camouflage yourself into the shadows and become a mere wisp of darkness. A maid from the hostel trudged to the open window and closed it, grumbling. Lightning illuminated the landing. You took a deep breath and reviewed the plans that you had so painstakingly memorized throughout the three days you had been guarding that building on the outskirts of the kingdom. Five doors on each side. The target’s bedroom was behind the third one on the left.

Stealthy as a specter, you walked down the landing. You pushed the target's bedroom door, which opened with an almost imperceptible squeak; waiting for another thunder to rumble to close it carefully. A second flash of lightning illuminated the two figures sleeping on the canopy bed. Young Hee must not have been over thirty-five. His son, small and beautiful, slept soundly in his arms.

“I’m not murdering a poor kid’s mother”

“So you’ve gone soft”

“No I haven’t gone soft” “What could a poor merchant woman have done to you for her to deserve such an end to her life”

He sits down on his throne “You didn’t even hesitate when killing my mother, though”

“Yoongi I-” he turns his head to you, a sharp gaze following your every move, as if he was a predator waiting for the precise moment his prey took a wrong turn to jump on them. You turn your gaze to the floor immediately “Your Majesty”

“Listen Y/N- I’m a very busy man, so I’ll make it easier for you” he stood up from where he was sitting, and although you weren’t looking directly at him, you could hear him move around the room until you were able to see him stop right in front of you, a hand you were so familiar with once caresses your cheek as he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him face to face “It’s either her life, or your life. Easy choice, Y/N”

You can feel your heart wanting to burst out of your ribcage at that exact moment, finally understanding the importance behind such a horrifying task, the mirroring in the situation. And the choice was as simple as it could get. “Kill me instead”

You could see the rage inside his eyes, even as he stood still for a few second, steady as ever, unfaltering as he called over one of the palace’s servants to get him the royal seal, the infamous red ink that decorated the skin of those in line to be executed by the royal himself, an utmost sign of rage, of personally wronging the monarch. A sense of longing crossed his gaze for half a second as he locked eyes with you before he took your wrist in his hand and stamped the cold ink on it; you couldn’t keep your body from reacting to the action, whether it was having him touching you again, the almost imperceptible stuttering of his movements when he did so, or the knowledge that you’d have to face an execution, making you shake lightly as adrenaline filled your veins. 

Preparations were something the emperor certainly didn’t scattered in, back when he became known as the cold hearted borderline psychopath he had a vaste fame of, ikt was mostly do to the whole antiques that surrounded his personal executions, the way that they seemed to mimic a kingdom’s festivity was almost breathtaking, were it not for the fact that the main entertainment of the day would be having you publicly executed.  You had been waiting for that night for a whole week. Sitting in the wooden corridor nestled to one side of the golden dome of Min Yoongi’s personal library, remembering how the last time you had been there, things were so different from how they were now, where the emperor had asked you to marry you in the worst way possible and you had confessed the greatest murder of the dynasty; you let yourself be carried away by the music that rose through the amphitheater. With your legs dangling under the railing, you leaned forward and rested your cheek on your crossed arms. One could almost swear the palace was preparing for a wedding, if the way you were constantly dressed up and down during the week, the way the palace’s servants were constantly bustling around the building to ensure the greatest quality for the evening, the greatest night for the kingdom. The execution of the Empress’ murderer. 

“You seem oddly calm for someone who's about to be executed” Jungkook mentions as he approaches where you were currently hanging out, a few minutes to spare before a small group of designated maids were to call you to get you ready for the night.

You look up at him tiredly, without separating your head from where it was laying, catching him taking a seat by your side in the most infantile way you had ever seen the royal guard do, shrugging to no one in particular, you add “You know, accountability and stuff”

“Oh and she grew a moral compass during her time here” if he was expecting a bickering comeback, the way you used to do back when he was designated to look after you, he was certainly not getting anything other than be met by an extended silence that seemed to rise the tension and seriousness of the whole interaction between the two “Why are you letting this happen to you?”

“What are you talking about” this time, you do turn to face him, confused as to where he was expecting the conversation to go.

“You didn’t kill his mother”

“I did”

He huffed out air, sounding a bit exasperated at your response; you could have even sworn you saw him roll his eyes faintly “No you didn’t, you were a mere 15 year old” there was a bit of laughter behind his sentence before he regained his composure and went back to his former self from a few minutes ago, looking at your face quizzically as if there was something hidden in there that held the answer to his question  “So why are you doing this”

You try and miserably fail to convey a nonchalant look on your face as memories of your time with the emperor fill your mind, not just the carnal ones, but those where you would watch him work for his place in the royal hierarchy, the soft sides around the rough edges that were publicly hidden on purpose, turning away from the guard you say softly “Yoongi’s a great man”

“Okay sure, he could do with a more...tame temperament, but what does that have anything to do with you chopping your own head off”

You try your best to ignore the way your heart seems to physically ache at the thought behind the answer; you almost don’t get enough strength from within to mutter “I’m hoping to get him some closure, be an even better ruler”

“That’s- definitely not how it’s supposed to work Y/N” Jungkook says incredulously 

 “I was technically part of the killing so, it’s all the same”

He huffs before going to stand up, dusting off his uniform and already facing away from you, before you can hear him call for you one last time “Yoongi’s in his room, you know, he was looking for you a few hours ago, in case that information helps in any way”

So perhaps you were naive for thinking that he would answer his door, he would have no reason to do so, especially given the circumstances, if it were you, opening the door to the person that had confessed of murdering your mother, and having them come up at your room, you wouldn’t even need to think it once to decide not to further interact with them, but Jungkook had said Yoongi had been looking for you before, so the chance of him wanting to see you alive one last time were there. Unless you were reading it all wrong. You turned your back on the huge wooden door you had come to know as the emperor’s bedroom a few months back, resigned, when you heard the creaking of a door opening and a calm steady voice.

“So you’re going to just knock on my door and run away the same way you entered my life and are now leaving it forever?” his frozen tone still having an effect on your body as you turned to face him properly for the first time in what seemed like an eternity “Came to discuss a bargain for your life?”

“Not at all” you lock eyes with him when approaching him, until you were practically inside the room, his judgemental gaze still on you “I wanted to say my goodbyes properly, your majesty”

“Then don’t waste my time and come in already, Y/N” 

The royal wasted no time in cornering you against the door, face so close to yours you could feel his breath on your skin, the tip of his nose nuzzling the side of your face and you knew him enough to know he had his eyes closed to keep his composure as he talked “I’m going to miss you like a fucking mad man” 

It felt like falling back into routine, the way he kissed you, down to your neck up to your collarbone, pushing past the robes that covered your skin, in preparation for the ritual, his hands roaming freely in a familiar way, grabbing all the right places as he draws little sounds from your throat, all while he worked the both of you to where his bed was placed, although he was giving your body and pleasure a decent amount of attention, you couldn’t brush off the fact that he irradiated an angry aura, words left unspoken as he got his anger out by pleasuring both of you. Maybe himself more than you, as he removes himself from caressing your body as he usually did and positioned himself above you, his member laying flat on your already expecting tongue,as soon as you realised what his intentions were when he started undressing himself, his hips thrusting a few times in an experimental manner, soon enough finding a  pace at the same time as you bobbed your head up to capture as much of his length as you could inside your mouth, your hands captured under Yoongi’s weight, unable to help you work him further, the way you’d done before. 

You feel him start to thrust further into your throat at one particular kitten lick of yours to the tip of his cock, your head starting to hang from the edge of the mattress you two were on as he picked up the pace, his cock filling you up all the way until it hit the back of your throat a few times, you trying to whine around him, only further encouraging him to take a handful of your hair and push you further against him, your gag reflex taking the best of you as he held you there, nose close to his navel, deep grunts ripped from his lips, the air leaving your lungs and becoming slightly light headed after a few seconds of you tapping his thigh in a motion to let him know to let you breathe, at which Yoongi locked eyes with you, a mix of anger and longing in his yes as he  thrusts a few more times as saliva started dripping from your mouth, tears decorating your pink stained cheeks before he removed himself from you, giving you a few seconds to gain air before he repositioned both of you. A deafening silence taking over both of you, as you were still catching your breath and he positioned his cock at your entrance, his tip, wet with your saliva, playing with your folds for a few seconds, as you take a sharp intake of air when he enters you and immediately sets a slow deep pace. You can feel his member filling you up perfectly, mind racing with flashbacks to all those other nights before where the emperor and you shared endless nights all over the palace. 

The knowledge that this would be the last time creeping up in the back of your mind. You feel an unfamiliar wetness hit your neck where Yoongi was kissing your skin, rolling down as you identified it as tears, as he was still passionately thrusting into you. 

“I don’t want to lose you” his voice barely above a whisper, trying to conceal the way his chest was tightened with sadness 

“You have to let me go, Yoongi” one of your hands comes up to caress his locks as he pushes up to stare at your face, anger long gone and replaced with utter sadness before one last thrust has him filling you up with his seed, warmth enveloping you, a soft whimper leaving your lips as his cock leaves your cunt, a briskly wind coming from the window causing your body to shiver for a second at the loss of body heat on top of you.

“I guess this was it then” his cold and unnerved facade was on again, making the cold shivers in your body that much worse as you watched him adjust his clothes and walk out of the room, leaving you to dress yourself and ultimately face your fated destiny at the end of the day.

The palace’s front plaza is filled to the brim with spectators as the news got out that the Emperor was finally getting revenge for his mother’s killing, people from the kingdom and even some people from neighbouring ones all lined up in the outer sides of the fire marks that decorated the space to illuminate the middle path where you were placed in the end of it to walk your way up, two unknown guards on each side of you as each grabbed your elbows to push you forward, the rope certainly leaving marks on your skin as it was wrapped tightly around your wrists.  

You could only catch a glimpse of Yoongi’s blond hair, wrapped in his infamous black and golden hanbok, drums roaring in unison, people screaming as you watched him take the sword from the swordsman that had prepared the ritual beforehand, as someone wrapped a cloth around your eyes and you were promptly pushed forward, legs buckling every few seconds as you came to realise what you were about to face, it hadn’t been clear before, mere seconds away, finally falling to your knees, head bowed down in resignation as you could barely hear the sharp sword cutting the air around you, gasps from the crowd filling the air along with the constant sound of the drums around you. You could only hope your death would bring much needed peace to the monarch and his kingdom. Your heart seemed to want to burst out of your chest, if anything, Yoongi was known for being an espectacular swordsman, which hopefully made the whole execution that much easier. You could hear cheers and a metal cutting the air before your body fell limp to the ground.

But your consciousness never left, the drums couldn’t be heard anymore, cheers were replaced with confusion as a pair of hands helped you up to your knees, fumbling with the cloth around your eyes to come face to face with Min Yoongi kneeling before you, a subtle smile on his face as one of his hands caressed your cheek before helping you up beside him.

“I’m sure you all must be confused right now” he announced to his subjects “This woman right here, has got more courage in her than anyone that has ever worked for me, any of us, for that matter. Which is why I’m asking once again, publicly, for the first time, for her hand in marriage” he turned to face you, as you were still dazed by the whole ordeal, his hand in yours being the only thing holding you down “Marry me, Y/N”

[stolen-pen-name23]

Oooooh, you're taking angst prompts??!! How about #2 for Obi-Wan and Mace?

Hi Siri!! Thank you for the prompt (and sorry about the delay!)

Prompts now closed.

Here ya go!

---

Outside, the snow quiets the world, but within the temple walls, the hum of so many Force presences living together in sweet harmony acts as white noise.

Through the windows, Mace can see snow swirl around and blanket everything in a white sheet. It is unusual, but not unheard of at this time of year for snow to fall on Coruscant.

Mace pulls his attention from the weather and returns it to the masters and padawans in the temple. Those who are not currently locked into a mission or campaign have effectively locked themselves in the temple. Everyone is inside, embracing the comfort of their fellow Jedi and the warmth within solid walls.

Everyone except one.

His presence is not difficult to miss. At least not to Mace, who has known that presence for three decades now. The soft glow of it always seems to stifle a quiet intensity — like a cat with retractable claws.

No, not difficult to miss at all. That is how Mace knows he is not here.

Mace delves into the Force and searches. He lets the Force guide his path — as he always does. It leads him down the winding halls and corridors and all the way to the back gardens. He steps outside and lets the biting winds nip at his skin.

The gardens, always a beautiful sight, take on a new kind of beauty in the snow — a beauty more crystalline and abstract. Shrubs and trees droop under the weight of the icy layer. Bootprints reveal stubborn blades of grass fighting for their lives. Mace follows the bootprints until he finds their owner sitting on a bench beside a frozen pond looking like the saddest Jedi in the order.

Maybe he is.

“Good evening, Obi-Wan,” Mace says gently.

Obi-Wan raises his eyes to look up at Mace. They appear bloodshot and irritated while his cheeks are rosy, though Mace suspects it is not entirely due to the cold.

“What are you doing out here?” Mace asks cautiously. “It’s freezing out here.”

“I’m sorry, Mace,” Obi-Wan says, and Mace has not the faintest what he could be apologizing for this time.

Mace gives Obi-Wan another once over. A thin cloak is the only protection he seems to have from the frigid air. “Obi-Wan, please come inside. You’re going to freeze out here.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Now, what are you doing out here?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of it?” Obi-Wan asks, ignoring the question altogether.

Mace senses he needs to tread carefully. “Tired of what?”

“The war. The fighting. The death. Losing everything all the time.”

Mace’s breath catches in his throat. “Of course I do, Obi-Wan,” he says slowly.

Mace takes a step closer. Garnering no reaction from Obi-Wan, he sits beside him on the bench. Obi-Wan doesn’t look at him, instead choosing to gaze at the frozen pond.

“Why can’t we stop it Mace? We’re supposed to stop it and it just keeps going. Endless as the galaxy, it just keeps going.”

Obi-Wan has begun shivering beside him. Mace takes off his thick outer coat and wraps it around Obi-Wan’s shoulders. He doesn’t even seem to notice.

Mace sighs. “If the Force wills it, we will stop it.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“Then it doesn’t.”

Obi-Wan shudders.

“Though,” Mace adds, “I do believe it is the will of the Force that we will see this through, one way or another.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t offer him a reaction.

“Why don’t you come inside with me, Obi-Wan?”

“I just want to be alone right now,” Obi-Wan says, turning away from Mace.

“Well,” Mace says. “I’ll let you be alone, but not out here.”

Obi-Wan’s nostrils flare and Mace senses the retractable claws fighting to be released. He almost wishes they would.

But as he always does, Obi-Wan calms himself and he locks his shields up tight. Mace stands up and stares Obi-Wan down until the younger Jedi relents. Snow crunches under their boots as they head back to the temple. At Mace’s command, the exterior doors slide open for them, welcoming them with a balm of warm air.

“Come on, I’ll make us some tea,” Mace says, knowing Obi-Wan never passes up a cup of warm tea, especially on a cold day.

“I thought you said you would let me be alone if I came inside,” Obi-Wan argues, even as he follows closely behind Mace.

“I lied.”

“I can’t believe they made you Master of the Order,” Obi-Wan says.

In the warmth of the temple, Mace sees some of Obi-Wan’s old spark come back. He smiles at that. If there was one thing he knew about Obi-Wan, it was that he was never knocked down for long.

Once they arrive at his quarters, Mace heads for the kitchen while the younger Jedi hovers awkwardly in the foyer, like he isn’t quite sure what to do with himself.

“Have a seat, Obi-Wan,” Mace says.

“I can help with—”

“I said, have a seat, Obi-Wan.” There is no room left for argument, and Obi-Wan does as he is told.

Mace sets some water to boil and busies himself in the kitchen. Obi-Wan remains silent, staring at his hands. He doesn’t speak and Mace doesn’t try to make him.

Minutes pass until the kettle wails its high-pitched cry. Obi-Wan jumps at the sudden outburst.

“You’re on edge, Kenobi,” Mace says.

“Very observant,” he replies dryly.

Mace chooses to ignore Obi-Wan’s particular brand of sarcasm for now.

“I’m worried about you.”

“I apologize. I did not mean to worry you. There’s no need for it.”

Mace tries not to huff in frustration. Instead, he responds diplomatically with “I will always worry about my friends.”

Obi-Wan’s throat bobs up and down as if fighting back tears. Mace’s heart breaks for him.

“May I ask what has brought all this on?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes darken. “My men… I—” Obi-Wan starts with a shaky voice. “I lost… I lost a lot of men this week. A lot. And Cody, he… they’re his brothers and he has to bury them. And you didn’t see… You didn’t see the look on his face or the… the dead. There were so many dead.”

Ah yes. Mace had read the reports of Obi-Wan’s ill-fated campaign in the outer rim. If the reports were accurate, and Obi-Wan’s reports were always accurate, it was a bloodbath, though Mace had found that the written word could hardly convey the horrors of war.

The campaign ended days ago, but time is only relative after tragedy.

“I failed them, Mace.”

“Maybe,” Mace says, and he does not miss the way Obi-Wan flinches. “Maybe you failed them. Maybe your orders led to their deaths and it’s truly all your fault.”

Obi-Wan nods in resignation.

“Or,” Mace begins, “maybe, just maybe, you and your men walked into a trap. I read the reports, Kenobi. There was no way you could have known about the minefield. The intelligence you were given was not accurate. Maybe you did the best you could with the information you had.”

“I should have seen it coming.”

“We are gifted, yes, but we are not omnipotent,” Mace says. “To think as much is arrogance. We must accept our mistakes for what they are and move on from them.”

Obi-Wan nods, even as he shrinks into himself.

“It’s not your fault, Obi-Wan.” Mace squeezes his shoulder and he can feel some of the tension loosen.

Obi-Wan takes a shuddering breath. “All right.”

Mace isn’t sure if he’s convinced him or if Obi-Wan is simply appeasing him. He worries it is the latter.

“I know it’s cold comfort, but if you ever want to talk about it, or anything else, my door is always open.”

“We’re talking now,” Obi-Wan says.

“Nothing has ever gotten past you, Kenobi.”

In spite of himself, Obi-Wan smiles behind the brim of his cup.

Good.

Obi-Wan is not so broken after all.

[littlesniggy]

Princess Part Three

Anon: Hello! I think it’s about time I request princess part 3 🧎‍♀️. I would love to read more if u have any more ideas floating around. (If u can’t think of anything to add disregard this. I love u tho 😉)

Thank you for your request, Anon! I hope it was okay for me to write a third part since it was @pure-kirarin requests originally. I hope you like it!

Warning: 18+, nsfw, degradation, name calling

Pairing: Kid x female reader

Word count: 3.8k

Part One Part Two

It was mere coincidence that she met him again but the moment she saw his ship from afar her heart started racing like crazy in her chest. Why was he here? Memories from two years ago rushed back to her mind, every dirty thing he did with her, every word of praise he uttered to her – everything was instantly present.

“Everything alright, dear?” her husband asked, studying here flushed face with a slightly concerned expression. “Do you have a fever?” she laughed awkwardly and shook her head. “No, everything’s fine. Don’t worry.” She uttered, trying to get her heartbeat under control. The ship disappeared behind a hill, probably rounding the island in search for a good anchoring spot. Nobody else seemed to have noticed the pirate ship which had her filled with slight relief, internally not wanting to them to get caught.

“Are you ready for the meeting, dear?” he asked, holding out his arm for her to take. She smiled back at him, looking confident on the outside but totally distraught on the inside. Would the event from back then repeat itself? Would they come to the castle, her new home and raid it like they did two years ago? Would they kill innocent people? Questions over questions flooded her mind but she had to remind herself to stay focused. She was a queen by now, her husband’s parents passed away last summer on sea on their way to a foreign kingdom. Pirates, most likely.

They walked through long corridors, passing countless doors until they stopped in front of a huge wooden double door. “Let’s hope everything goes smoothly.” He whispered, kissing her cheek before letting go of her arm. The doors opened and he walked in, her following a little behind.

The people in the room stood up, bowing down a little. Her husband nodded as a sign of greeting, she dropped a curtsey and took a seat by his side, hands folded on her lap. He was the one talking. Not because he thought it wasn’t a woman’s job but because he simply knew politics better than her. She attended every meeting, learning each time something new. He wanted her to ‘know the business’ as he liked to call it as well as him. She didn’t complain.

The meeting dragged on forever and she caught herself drifting away with her thoughts countless times, thinking about a certain pirate. It took all her willpower not to start rubbing her thighs together every time she had to think about sucking his dick, him taking her on her huge bed and making her moan in complete bliss.

When it was finally over, hands were shaken, smiles on everyone’s faces. The deal with the other kingdom was a complete success and she was proud of her husband’s negotiation skills. “You did great.” She whispered once everyone was out of ear shot and he smiled at her, giving him a short kiss on the lips. “Everything thanks to you. You’re my good luck charm.” He said, making her blush a little.

The dinner afterwards was a little more pleasant than the meeting, not as tense and a lot of alcohol was emptied by the men. She held small talk with everyone, knowing how to converse with people and how to keep it interesting and not let awkward pauses take over a conversation.

Later that night, when the two were in bed together, her husband already asleep, she was wide awake. She hadn’t heard anything about pirates landing on their island and she felt relief. On the other hand was she a little worried. Concerns about an ambush, looting and whatnot made her mind go crazy. She knew what Kid was capable of and that most encounters with the Kid pirates ended in a bloodbath. So, she made a decision.

Quietly, as not to wake her husband, she got out of bed and hurried into the dressing room, putting on some pants and a hoodie, not making the same mistake as last time and just leaving in her night gown. She exited the room and walked towards the entrance of the castle. The guards looked at her confused when they saw her.

“I’m just going for a walk.” She informed them. “Would your majesty want someone to accompany her?” one of them asked but she declined. She didn’t want anyone knowing where she was headed. “I’ll be back soon.”

When she was outside, the cold air hit her right in the face and she wrapped her arms around herself. Why didn’t she think of taking a jacket with her? Now it was too late and she better hurried to where she suspected their ship anchored.

It took her longer than expected to get to the spot where she imagined them to be. It was secluded, no citizens around and out of side from anyone. Her guts proved to be right when she saw the huge ship and loud laughter from afar. Her heart skipped a beat when she got closer and saw the silhouette of Eustass Kid, sitting by the fire place, surrounded by his crew.

But the closer she got the more doubt filled her body. What, if he didn’t recognize her? What, if killed her? And why did she come here in the fist place? Scenes from back then came back. It was all so familiar, her approaching the crew, not knowing what to expect, not knowing why she left the castle.

Before she knew she was standing there, in plain sight for everyone to see. Heat was the first one to notice her. He raised a hand and pointed at her. The crew fell silent and Kid slowly turned around. She couldn’t see his face, the light of the fire coming from behind him only illuminating his silhouette but she could see his confused eyes. “Who’s there?” he demanded to know. Taking one step after the other she slowly stepped into the light, her hands clutching at her hoodie. Her heart was racing, her mind telling her how stupid she was for mindlessly approaching them. But it was too late now.

“Who’re you?” Kid asked. She could now make out his irritated expression, no recognition on his part to who she was. Her heart sunk at the realization and she made a step back, her body demanding her to run away but she just couldn’t move. “I asked you a question!” Kid got up from his seat, stomping over to her, a hand on his gun, the other one – his metal arm – pointing at her. When did this happen? What did he do to lose his arm?

“You deaf? Answer me, woman.” He stopped right in front of her, his crew not far behind him. She had a lump in her throat, needing a few attempts to finally being able to speak up. “I-I’m…” his intense stare was boring right into her soul and she had to start over again. “I’m Y/n.” she whispered intimidated, her whole body shaking. How was it that he was even more intimidating than two years ago? Last time, she was scared, yes, but this time she was mortified being so close to him, especially since he didn’t remember who she was. For him, she was an intruder, probably with bad intentions. How could she be so foolish?

Kid looked her up and down, a scowl on his face. “Why are you here?” he asked. “I….I wanted to…see you.” Kid had to concentrate to hear her, barking at his crew to ‘shit the fuck up’ when they laughed at her pathetic form. Killer showed up right next to his captain. She felt his eyes look her up and down before he looked at Kid.

“I think I know her. She was the princess from that country we raided.” Kid looked at him confused, obviously not knowing which of the many countries he was talking about. But then it clicked and a huge grin replaced the scowl. He turned his head back to her, realization reflecting in his eyes.

“Oh, it’s the little princess, right?” he let go of his gun and took her chin between his index finger and thumb, eying her face curiously. “How comes you’re here? Have you missed me that much?” her cheeks flushed bright red and she averted her gaze, unable to answer his question.

“Why are you so shy, all of a sudden? If I remember correctly you were pretty damn loud the last time I saw you, Princess.” He chuckled; his thumb swept across her bottom lip. The men around them laughed, one of them whistled.

“Do you live on this island now? It’s a pretty island. Probably a lot of wealthy people here.” He withdrew his hand, leaving her longing for more of his touch.

The realization of his words hit her shortly after and she looked at him in shock. “What? No! Please, don’t do this again!” as good as he had made her feel back then, the trauma of your country, your home being invaded, your people being killed still haunted her dreams. Those were the nights she wished to forget but knew she never could.

Kid started laughing at her reaction, stepping a step back, his hand on his hip. “Why not? Who will stop us? You, Princess?” he teased, leaning down to her, a mad glint in his eyes. “Please….I’m…I’m begging you! Leave this country alone.” Tears started forming in her eyes. Now she knew why she came here. She wanted to confirm what she already knew. She came here to hear him say that they would repeat what they had done two years ago and she needed to stop him!

The captain chuckled amused, straightening his back again and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Usually, people go in their knees when they beg someone.” His voice was cutting through her like a knife. “C’mon, princess. I think I’ve taught you before how to kneel in front of someone, haven’t I?” knowing laughter echoed through the cold air. Embarrassment was written all over her face at the mention of how she knelt in front of him, everyone around them knowing exactly what their captain was talking about.

Hesitantly, she got down on her knees and bowed her head down to the cold ground, her forehead touching the dirt. “Please…..” she whispered, tears running down her cheeks. “Please what?” Kid insisted, making her repeat herself. “Please, leave my country alone.” “Your country?” He asked, smirking at her kneeling form. “Oh right, you were about to get married! How’s the life as a wife? Making your man as happy as you made me?” he crouched down in front of her, his warm hand patting her head before grabbing her hair and pulling it up, making her yelp in pain in the process.

“Did you learn any new tricks while I was gone?” his voice was low and heavy with suggestion, making her stomach twist at his words. She stayed silent, not wanting to answer this humiliating question. “I bet you did…mind if you show me?” Her eyes were staring back at his but out of the corners she saw the outlines of his dick pressing against his pants. She swallowed thickly, already made up her mind.

She didn’t need to answer to his question. He let go of her hair and got up, not bothering to help her up as well and just walking away, expecting her to follow. “I’ll be back soon!” he informed his crew with a cocky smirk, disappearing into the darkness. She had to hurry as to not lose him, the laughter of his crew following her with every step.

She followed his huge form through the small forest until they stood right in front of his ship. It was huge up close and her mouth was agape in awe. She had never seen a pirate ship up close but it was so exciting. Kid was already on the bridge, waiting for her to follow him. Quickly, she boarded the ship after him, looking around curiously. She kind of felt like a puppy following its master the way she was following him but she couldn’t help it. She was simply drawn to him. No matter how scared she was of him, how moody he could be, the excited feeling took over almost always, throwing all concerns over board.

“Pretty cool, huh? You said you wanted to become a pirate. I guess this is the closest you’ll ever get to become one.” He teased, knowing she would never leave her country. She just wasn’t cut to be a pirate. “Come.” He said, opening a door leading to as small hallway before he opened another door, giving way to his personal quarters.

She stepped inside and he closed the door behind her, not locking it this time. And why should he? She came here on her own accord, he wasn’t forcing her to follow him like last time. His dick was still hard but not as painful as before after having some time cooling down a little on the way here. But the moment he laid his eyes on her the blood rushed right back into his nether region.

She was standing in front of his bed, her front facing him and her hands had already removed the hoodie, leaving her in a thin, almost see-through top, her nipples visible under the fabric. “Fuck, princess.” He purred, taking two steps to stand right in front of her, admiring the perky little nubs.

“Not as shy as I remember but I like it!” he praised, his hand moving under her top, up her stomach to her breasts, fondling one roughly. She moaned, closing her eyes at his touch. Her hands moved over his muscular chest, scratching her nails over his skin. His grin widened and he removed the top, exposing her naked upper body. He licked his lips at the sight, leaning down to bite at the sensitive flesh with his teeth. Another moan filled the room and she opened the two belts he was wearing before opening his pants, letting them glide to the floor.

“Someone’s eager. I like it.” He purred, opening her pants as well and almost ripping them off her body, her panties following right after. “Kid…!” she panted, getting rid of the rest of his clothes until they both were completely naked. He pushed her onto the bed, taking a quick look at her open legs before she closed them and kneeled in front of him on his bed, eye-level with his dick.

Kid swept her hair out of her face, resting his hand on the back of her head. “Such a nice view. C’mon, princess. Show me how you blow your little king.” He purred, making her blush deeply. But she didn’t protest. Instead, she took his heavy dick into her hand, stroking it a couple of times before kissing the flushed tip. She tasted the first dops of his pre-cum, licking it up with her tongue. Kid watched her in amazement. She had changed so much. She was almost like a professional but with better hygiene and more wealth to her name.

“What a good, slutty princess, licking my dick like a lollipop.” At his praise she rubbed her legs together creating some friction. But she didn’t pay it any further mind and instead concentrated on the task at hand.

She closed her soft lips around his head, taking him in more and more. Her hand was stroking the part her mouth couldn’t reach, following the movements of her mouth. Kid groaned at the sight, guiding her head a little with his hand, his hips thrusting lazily against her face.

“Look at me, princess.” She opened her eyes at his demand, looking up at his, a wave of heat instantly rushing down to her core. Kid chuckled and began moving her head a little faster and deeper. Shameless, throaty moans filled the room. Her hand came up and started fondling his balls, squeezing them lightly while he face fucked her, his mushroom head bumping against the back if her throat. A few choked noises left her body but nothing too major. Saliva ran down her chin and just the sight of that could’ve made him cum at once but he held himself back. It would’ve been a waste to cum already, no matter how fucking lewd and sexy she was looking right now.

“You’ve trained quite a lot. Do you only suck your king’s dick or do you go around practice with the guards as well? Either way, he should be proud of his little whore.” Even if she could have she probably wouldn’t have retorted anything simply she didn’t know what. But his words had her pussy clench around nothing. Something about him calling her a whore had her whole body tingle in excitement.

“Good princess.” He praised, his eyes not leaving hers. He just glanced up once, seeing her hips wiggle, showing him how horny she was. “You want me fuck you, princess?” he asked when he looked back at her face. A small, muffled moan was his answer and he pushed her off his dick.

“Get in all four, princess.” He demanded but she hesitated. Irritated, he raised an eyebrow at her. “I said get in all four!” he repeated himself. The princess bit her lip, looking up at him shyly. “Can…can I ride you?” she asked with a weak voice. Kid was surprised to hear her make this request. Usually, the women just followed his orders. This was new. And he liked it. With a huge grin he let himself fall on his bed with his back, crossing his arms behinf his head. “Take a seat.” He invited her, watching her climb over his body, back turned to him. He looked her back up and down, grin even wider when he saw her ass. “What a nice view…”

She took his dick into her hand, the other one braced herself on his thick thigh for support. She raised her body, her core hovering over his dick and she slowly let herself sink on him. It hurt; of course it did. Neither she not he prepared her sex for his dick but over the last couple of years she found out that this made her even hotter. She liked the pain in the beginning, even though it was almost a little bit too painful.

Kid groaned when he felt her heat around him, instinctively thrusting upwards to meet her halfway. She yelped when he filled her out, clenching around him at the feeling. He was bigger than her husband. She could feel his prominent vein that was running over his shaft. She let her head hang low for a moment, letting her pussy adjust to his size before she started moving.

He watched as his dick slowly glided out of her core before she let herself fall back onto hi with a loud moan. “Fuck.” He hissed, closing his eyes at the feeling. His hand came back from under his head, grabbing the juncture between hip and thigh, digging his nails into her skin. “Move those fucking hips, princess.” He groaned. She let him sink in and glide out with each move, watching the show like Kid and feeling her stomach tingle.

It was so much different form her husband, so much more exciting that she picked up her pace soon, wanting to feel him deeper and deeper inside of her. Kid’s hand moved up, grabbing her tit in his big hand, fondling it roughly, playing with the sensitive tissues. She leaned back on him, her hands now bracing herself on his muscular chest for support, moving her hips up and down while the pirate thrusted his hips upwards in tandem.

Soon, Kid’s metal arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her back onto his chest, securing her body with said arm and thrusting up into her at an almost abnormal speed, making her see stars. His other hand glided between her legs, finding the swollen nub and circling it almost forcefully. She screamed in pleasure, pressing her back against his torso, feeling his hard muscles work under her and his ragged breathing tickling her skin.

“Kid….Kid I can’t hold it in any longer…!” she moaned, feeling the familiar feeling coil inside her stomach. Kid’s grip tightened and she could feel his grin behind her. “Already?” he taunted her, picking up his speed again, making her form incoherent sentences. “Guess it can’t be helped, princess.” He pressed his thumb down hard on her clit making her scream in bliss. She arched her body as she came with his name on her lips around his cock, tightening around him oh so good.

Kid didn’t stop, his grip got even tighter as he fucked into her sensitive cunt, seeking his own relief. Her whole body was trembling due to overstimulation, her pussy sore and begging for him to stop but soon enough it was replaced by pleasure once more.

“Fuck…princess! You enjoy this way too much!” he laughed to her moans. With a swift move he turned around with her, his weight pressing her into the mattress. He started fucking her from behind, reaching even deeper parts of her body. He grabbed her hair with his hand, making her turn her head to give him access to her neck. His lips started sucking on the think skin, ready to leave dark marks. “N-no! My husband!” she moaned but it was too late.

“You have time to think about your husband at a time like this? I think I need to fuck you even harder, princess.” He purred into her ear, before getting up, grabbing her hips in his hands and slamming his hips against her ass, filling her out in all the right ways. “Shit…Kid! Just like that!” she moaned, moving against his hard thrusts. Kid moaned as well, throwing his head back and enjoying the feeling.

It didn’t take long for her to reach her second orgasm, screaming his name and clenching so hard around him, forcing him to cum as well. He was smart enough to withdraw the last second, coating her back instead with his sticky semen. With a grin he stroked every last bit of his cum out, smearing it over her body.

She was lying there, panting heavily, with heavy eyes, ready to fall asleep.

“Don’t you dare fall asleep here. You go right back to your husband. Maybe you can show him what a mess a real man can make.” He purred, already climbing off his bed to go to the bathroom. “Get dressed and fuck off, princess. I don’t need your king becoming suspicious cause you’re gone for so long. We’re gonna leave tomorrow so no worries.” He came back, leaning against the door frame. “We weren’t planning on raiding your cute little country in the first place. But your begging was really good. Hope to see it again someday.”

[icycoolslushie]

THG Thomastair AU

“I wish we could find sanctuary,” Thomas said. “You know, with shelter and such.”

“But Thomas,” Alastair said, “you are my sanctuary.”

TW/CW: If you're reading this, you've probably read The Hunger Games books or watched the movies so this has the same stuff as in them!

Idea // OG post // Ask

Disclaimers: This has headcanons along with snippets. Hopefully it's not OOC. Any Persian is what my Iranian friend told me. I like to headcanon that all the districts have their own language. Warning: The plot might be non-existent. Also, if you see any kind of mistakes (grammar, spelling, etc.) please let me know! Kinda long :)

Thomas is from District 7

Alastair is from District 11

The president is Josiah Wayland

The Head Gamemaker is Maurice Bridgestock

Eugenia is part of a group to overthrow the Capitol

Barbara and Oliver died in a previous Hunger Games

It was like it was in the books

Alastair used to be in a relationship with Charles Fairchild, son of the mayor of District 11, Charlotte Fairchild

Risa is Sona’s sister so Alastair’s aunt

Alastair volunteers for Cordelia

Cordelia struggles with him and finally says in “I love you” in Persian (dooset daram) before Alastair goes on the train

Cordelia is like Prim

Alastair’s mentor is Ragnor Fell

They be sassy together

Thomas’s mentor is Charlotte

Alastair’s stylist tells him Alastair should dye his hair back to black

In the opening ceremony, Thomas dresses as a tree and Alastair thinks how Thomas makes “a boring costume look beautiful”

Alastair has a suit on with leaves embroidered on it which Thomas later tells him “it was like nature blessed you”

Jem may or may not be an Avox Jem is Alastair’s Avox

Thomas Tanner is Thomas’s Avox

For training Alastair throws spears and pulls a 8

Thomas uses a broadsword in training and pulls an 8 as well

Thomas gets a compass rose tattoo from his stylist for the interview

The arena has a structure that looks like the Eiffel Tower at one end

The arena is covered in forests, except for the Cornucopia

When the canon sounds, Alastair runs toward the Cornucopia and escapes with a dagger to the forest

Thomas runs straight (ha!) into the forest

9 children die in the initial bloodbath

Alastair and Thomas both spend the night in trees about ten minutes away from each other

In the morning, Alastair hears rustling and eventually confronts Thomas

They first try to kill each other, but then they hear someone else and work together to fight the District 9 male tribute

Alastair puts his dagger at the tribute’s throat and stabs him there

Alastair doesn’t want to partner up and vice versa

“Alastair—I think you’d be a great person to team up with, but I . . . I don’t want to team up with you. I don’t want to team up with anyone. We—we might survive till the end, and then—” “No, Thomas, I understand. We’ll pretend this never happened. We’ll go our separate ways.” Thomas nodded, a sinking feeling in his stomach. Part of him had been hoping Alastair would disagree with him, even when it was reasonable. He ignored it and set about laying the food they’d gathered.

But they gather food and decide they’ll have a meal together and then go their separate ways

They make a meal of some fruits they find on trees and on the ground

Thomas just cannot eat the celery

They part ways

By the second night, fourteen people in total are dead

Thomas goes to the Eiffel Tower structure the next day

He climbs onto the first level and greets Alastair

Alastair’s leg is wounded

Alastair explains that the Careers fought him

The Careers include Augustus Pounceby and Clive Cartwright

“Tell me. Tell me who hurt you. I’ll kill them.” Alastair had never seen anyone so angry on his behalf that it unnerved him. “It doesn’t matter, it was the Capitol—” “Don’t,” Thomas said quietly. “Don’t try to downplay it. I want to make them pay.” Alastair paused. After a minute he said, “It was the Careers. The District 1 and 2 tribute. Augustus and Clive. They climbed onto here and started fighting me. I gave Augustus a good cut on the arm and Clive a nice scar on his cheek but they overpowered me. Augustus stabbed my leg. They left laughing.” “They didn’t finish you off?” Alastair shook his head. “I think they . . . wanted me to suffer. It isn’t like I can go anywhere, and I have no allies, so probably wanted to come back tomorrow and then finish me off. But it’s not like I’m going to last that long.” The last sentence caught Thomas off guard. “What?” “Aren’t you going to kill me?” Thomas thought about the District 1 tribute, Augustus, who had been saying that Barbara was weak before the Opening Ceremony. That Barbara, who had gotten him out of a scuffle with a Peacekeeper, was weak. That Barbara, who had volunteered for her cousin in the Reaping, was weak. He thought about the hate he had felt for the Career. Then he thought about graceful, elegant, bleeding Alastair in front of him, the way he had hugged his sister, the way he guarded himself, and decided. “No,” he said. “I’m not going to kill you.”

Thomas bandages Alastair’s wound

“Alastair, you’re hurt. Please let me wrap your leg in leaves and vines.” “Thomas, you don’t understand. I’ve always bandaged my own wounds. It’s not going to change now.” “Sometimes,” Thomas said, “it’s better to let others take care of you. They do a better job than you realize. Alastair, please. You’re bleeding. Let me help.” Alastair saw something in Thomas’s eyes: truth. He thought back to how many people would want to help him: his father, his mother, his aunt Risa . . . when he was young. As he grew up, all of them faced the same cruel system and all of them were expected to take care of their own wounds. Now, here was someone willing to help him when he should be killing him. It gave Alastair such a feeling of care and belonging that he nodded. It wouldn’t hurt to let someone take care of him for once.

They eventually decide to team up

Thomas makes a meal out of things he finds in the forest

He and Alastair eat it

Alastair heals from his wound

By that night, nineteen people are dead

Augustus, Clive, and the District 8 female tribute are still alive along with them

Alastair takes first watch during the night, Thomas takes the second

Alastair gently moved his fingers across the compass rose tattoo that Thomas had gotten from his stylist. He felt Thomas’s pulse. He promised himself that that pulse would go on even when his own didn’t.

The next day Alastair and Thomas set off (Alastair’s leg is healed)

Augustus and Clive are waiting for them

Thomas kills Augustus, attacking with A LOT of force

Clive gets a good hit on Thomas with a sword on his left arm

Alastair and Clive fight, Clive flees finally while he’s bleeding from a dozen cuts

Alastair bandages Thomas’s wound with leaves and vines

��I love it when you say my name. Say it again.” “Thomas—Thomas, you’ve lost too much blood. You’re going delirious.” Thomas sighed softly. “I would go delirious if that meant I could hear you say my name one more time.”

They get a sponsor gift: a whole meal of steak and sides, which they finish that day

When Alastair bites into an apple, Thomas wants to kiss him

Both of them fall asleep at night

When they wake up, they’re in a prison; a Capitol prison

They were in prison. But even if they were in hell, Alastair wouldn’t have minded. They were together.

They lie in each other’s arms, seeking warmth

“Why are we in prison? What did we do?” Alastair demanded, getting up as Josiah Wayland stuck his ugly face in front of the bars. President Wayland’s lip curled. “It isn’t you that did something, it’s your family.” Thomas gasped sharply. “Eugenia.” The president smiled cruelly. “So you do know her crime.” Thomas swallowed. Alastair put his hand in Thomas’s. “What did my family do?” Alastair asked, trying to change the topic. “Why, your sister did the same thing,” Josiah Wayland said. This time Alastair gave a sharp gasp. Thomas squeezed his hand, and Alastair drew a bit of comfort from him. But his mind was on Cordelia, his little sister, what would happen to her— Wayland, the monster he was, smiled wider as he saw Alastair and Thomas despairing their sisters’ fate.

Cordelia joined the same rebel group Eugenia was in

“But why are we here? What did they do that you had to take us out of the Games?” Thomas demanded when he had finally calmed down. It seemed that all the Lightwood siblings would all die in their youth. “As soon as they are in our custody, they will be executed. In front of you two. Everyone thinks the two of you killed each other. After they’re dead, both of you will be executed.” Thomas swallowed. “Why? Why will you execute us?” “Your sisters should have thought about your safety before they did what they did. At least you’ll be able to tell them goodbye. If the executioners give you the chance,” President Wayland added before he gave another cruel smile and left.

Thomas and Alastair despair over their and their sisters’ fates

“We’ll fight them. I don’t care. We’ll fight the Capitol. We’ll make them pay for what they did to Barbara and Oliver and Jem and Will and Tessa and my mom and every single person they hurt. We’ll make them pay, Alastair.”

Thomas sighed. “If only we had hope.” “I don’t think about hope, Thomas. I think about you. You’re my hope.” And now I’m going to lose you, Alastair wanted to add, but he didn’t. And then I won’t have any hope left.

“The odds were never in our favour, Thomas,” Alastair whispered, closing his eyes. Then he added softly, “And they never will be.”

Letter addressed to Alastair Carstairs, District 11 male tribute of the 56th Hunger Games, from Charles Fairchild, son of the mayor of District 11, found crumpled in a trash bin of the Training Center floor 11

Taglist: @della-vacker-supremacy @themadhatter999 @writeforjordelia @theenchanteddreamer Also tagging @jurdan-my-beloved who originally requested the headcanons and @youngreckless Lmk if you wanna be added or removed!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Seconding the 'mob guys watching over Chris for Paul's suggestion!

CW: References to murder/mob organization stuff, references to parental death, grief, referenced past whump of a minor

Every Tuesday at 9 am, just like clockwork, Sean Malley lumbers into a coffeeshop nestled into the corner of a flat featureless strip mall. Contrasting to the pale concrete nothingness of its surrounding, the little coffeeshop is painted  a warm, rich brown along the exterior, with heavy platers spilling over with purple and yellow flowers every few feet until Sean reaches the door.

It’s a welcome bit of individuality along this ring of small strip malls and larger big-box stores kept out of the city proper by a pile of zoning laws too draconian to fight. He’s been coming here for ten years now, more or less, and has seen the little coffeshop through its earliest days struggling for business right to now, where he feels reasonably certain he’ll be dead long before they close this place for good. 

He moves inside, the light immediately warm and slightly dimmed. The scent in the air of freshly roasted coffee beans and baked goods. The cannolis they sell came from him, Sean’s proud of that - his wife had a favorite recipe and he’d given it to them after she passed, hoping for one batch for the service. They’d just kept making them, having one ready for him when he popped in, and... well, they’ve sold them ever since. Even call them Christa’s Cannolis, handwritten in cursive on a little placard. She’d have been tickled pink, he thinks sometimes, to see it. 

One of his knees comes and goes as it pleases these days, giving his step a bit of a shuffle-scrape. He’s smiling, though, and humming as he goes.

Life is good for Sean Malley, all things considered. 

Truth be told, he hadn't actually expected to live this long. Keeping close to Conor and his family had paid off in the early days - just as his instincts had kept him safe when the Garden erupted in in-fighting, too. When the Clean-Up happened, during the Garden’s most vicious in-fighting, Sean had seen half the men he’d watched start as snot-nosed dumbasses taken out one by one, clearing the way for Conor’s fucking grandson to make his play for power.

Those kids who’d run lookout gigs and then moved on to guard duty or work with the cargo coming in... one by one those kids-turned-adults, with families of their own, had been removed from the picture. Fifteen, all told, a bloodbath stretched out over six months - sixteen, of course, if you count how Paul’s murder went all wrong. 

The one comfort had been watching Conor’s grandson lay the groundwork for his own comeuppance the whole time - promising favors for loyalty and then killing the ones he’d promised those favors to. That’s no way to start yourself as leader, and... well.

Trash had been taken out, in the end. Riley Higgs had gotten rid of the poison - and the poison’s friends - and his crew’s a damn sight better than Conor’s grandson’s people had been. 

Riley, for one thing, understands that an organization like the Garden works, in the end, on trust. On being a family.

Don’t kill your family without a good damn reason, now do you? 

Now Riley... he had a good reason. And Sean had made sure Riley Higgs knew a few very important facts that kept him on the man’s good side, and very much alive when the dust settled.

Even if he had did have to live with a bum knee. And back. And his hip’s started twinging every time it rains...

"Morning, Mr. Malley!" His favorite barista calls out, giving him a wave from behind the counter. She's a pretty thing, just cute as a button. Probably in her late twenties but when you’re as old as Sean is, everyone looks like a child playing pretend. 

Still, it always brings a bit of sun in the old man's day to see her bright pink hair before he ever takes his seat. He always tells her she should move on from here, do something with her life other than serve old men their coffee and watch them while away the hours.

But I like it here, Melody always replies, giving a little shrug of her shoulders. I like our regulars, too. Besides, this place pays better than the job I’d get with my actual degree. 

"G'morning to you, Melody!" He calls back, moving to have a seat in his usual spot, sinking gratefully into the plush armchair by the bookshelf in the corner. His favorite coffee table book, a heavy thing full of photos of World War II, is already laid out on the side table next to it, bookmarked where he’d left off last week. "Busy day, today?"

Melody is already heading his way, coffee in hand just how he likes it, one of Christa’s Cannolis on a small plate in the other. Sean’s doctor has been on him about cutting out sugar, and he’s done it just about everywhere else, but he still has his cannoli on Tuesdays. Christa had been so proud of herself when she’d mastered that recipe... 

"Not really,” Melody says with a shrug, breaking into his thoughts. “Just the usual morning rush and a couple college kids, wandered outside but they left their drinks, I figure they’ll come back. One of 'em looks like he got mauled by a real weak bear."

Sean feigns surprise. "Oh, does he now?" He takes a sip of his coffee and sighs happily. "Not too hot. You had it out already, didn't you?"

"I saw your car pull into the lot," Melody says, giving a little it's nothing gesture. “I knew you’d be in, so I kept an eye out for you.”

"You're a doll, Melody, and this place would be lost without you." He presses the twenty-dollar bill into her hand, and when she protests, he shakes his head, adds another ten, and closes her hand firmly around the cash. "Take it, take it. I'm an old man on my own, who've I got to spend it on, huh?"

"You're not that old, Mr. Malley," Melody sighs, an old song and dance between them. “You’ve got grandkids who could use it, too, you know.”

"Ha! Trust that my grandkids never want for anything, Melody. Besides, live the life I've lived, and sixty feels like eighty-two. Go on, then. Cilly'll be along in a bit."

He sits back to drink his coffee as she heads back behind the counter, watching through the front window the cars that pass along the highway, the scattering of people getting in and out of their own vehicles in the parking lot. It's a perfect, and perfectly normal, Tuesday morning. Just like any other.

A perfectly normal Tuesday where one creature of habit makes it a point to get a quick look at another. 

A flash of red catches his eye, and he frowns, watching a bright red Northern cardinal alight on the bench placed outside the shop, preening one wing briefly and then seeming to look towards the lot.

Sean follows its gaze, silently chastising himself for being so utterly taken by a simple bird, but... Northern cardinals are more or less unheard of around here, especially in the city. This one seems to cock its head in his direction. 

"Someone," He mutters to himself, "is a bit lost."

There's a peal of laughter, as the door opens, the little bell on top chiming to announce them, and there they are.

Two young people walking inside, heads tilted together. One of them has thick, wavy black hair, one of those haircuts the younger people like so much now, shaved on the sides but long on top. The younger guys in the Family wear their hair like that now and then. 

Sean thinks he liked it better when everyone kept things neat and tidy, but times change, and the Garden can't stagnate just because an old timer's got opinions. Riley’s take is he’d rather is people look like they could be anybody anywhere, and Sean has to admit the kind of haircut he’d like to see would stick out like a sore thumb.

Both of them are wearing all black head to toe, the black-haired one in a tank top and baggy pants, a large yellow lightning bolt on a cord settled just below their collarbone. Honestly, if he gets past the hair thing, they’re cute as a button, too.

Really, though, he’s not here because of them.

He’s here to get a good look at the young man walking in beside them. 

It’s funny - it’s been nine - ten? - years since he last saw Paul Higgs alive, the day before he and his sweet Ronnie were gunned down in their own home in the night... but tears still prick at the corners of Sean’s eyes when he see the ghost of Paul in his son’s narrow face.

There’d been a joke when the little one first came into the world, that somehow Paul and Ronnie had put together a child where her genetics simply skipped out entirely. He’d been a little clone of Paulie from the start, and he’s different as a man than he’d been as a child lining toy cars up at their feet in the warehouse on Saturdays when Ronnie needed a break.

Sean pulls his phone out, idly scrolling - his daughter had helped him to get Facebook and a couple other things besides, including some kind of app that had his favorite card games. He pretends now to be fascinated by something he sees, but in truth he pulls his camera up and starts recording.

“It, it, it could change everything,” Paulie’s boy is saying, breathlessly excited, hands moving through the air in a blend of gesture and general happiness. “You see? Everything! Make it, it, it-it safer, make... make things better.”

“I know, I know,” The other one replies, deep voice warm and thick with love, and Sean sighs, missing his Christa now more than ever. He consoles himself with a bite of cannoli. “I already told you I’m in, Chris, okay? I’m going to help you. You don’t have to sell me on it.”

Tristan ducks his head with a shy smile, and boy if he isn’t Paul’s spitting image in that, too. Paulie hadn’t smiled much, not like his kid does - maybe that’s what he got from Ronnie - but in a smile like that, well... you could see where he got it from. If you’d known Paul, of course.

Which the kid didn’t, not anymore.

“It could, um, be dangerous though.” They’re barely audible now as they go back to where they left their still-steaming drinks, sitting down on a nearby couch. “Nat’s worried. And, and, and you know Jake-”

“Chris, you could walk across a crosswalk when the light starts blinking and Jake would still worry about you,” The other one teases. Sean knows their name, but right now it won’t quite come to mind, lingering on the tip of is tongue, never quite landing. “It’ll be public, yeah-”

“Telling everyone who... who, who I am.” Tristan starts tapping his fingers on his pants, a peculiar finger-twist-tap-tap-tap gesture that Sean once knew as well as anyone, when the boy was small. But it’s the words, with a hint of nervousness lining them, that get his attention. “The... the whole world’s going to, to, to to-to-... to... to know about Tristan Higgs.”

Now that gets Sean’s attention. He cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and starts a new one. It takes work not to sit up, or drop his cannoli, or in some other way give himself away. 

He knows, then?

How?

Sean looks down at his phone, looking over the scar on Paul’s boy’s forehead, the only remaining evidence of what had been much more visible the first couple times they’d seen him out after it happened. Sean and Cilly had figured maybe a fight - people get into them, really. Paul wasn’t exactly gentle as a lamb, and why would his boy be?

But now... he wondered. His instincts told him the two were related, and of course he knew from the time they’d worked with WRU pretty closely under the table that those memory things they did sometimes failed. Sean had done a fixer job once for someone whose pet had recovered memories too fast and killed a servant in a panic...

“Oh, Paul,” Sean murmurs. “What’d your boy do, hm?”

“I’m, I’m going to to to t-... to tell everyone who I am,” Paul’s boy is saying, leaning forward and taking the hands of the other one in his own, squeezing them tight. “I’m... will, will, will you come with me? When, when I... so someone’s there?”

“What? Holy shit, Chris, go to the Olympics? With you?” They inhale and exhale, blowing some hair from their eyes, and smile. “You should take someone who knows more than I do about all that stuff, Chris, take Jake, or-”

“Jake has has to stay here. To, to protect the house. But... will you come with me?”

Sean cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and this time adds a message.

Olympics are in Chicago this year. What’s Paul Jr. planning?

He feels eyes on him and glances up to find Tristan looking over at him, an expression of uncertainty on his face. Sean’s been watching him for years, popping up in places, the way you sometimes see the same faces at the corner store, the mom-and-pop, a coffeeshop like this one. Now, he watches Tristan look him over, knowing he’s familiar but not knowing why. Part of him, with a pinprick of an old, old grief, wishes Paul’s little boy would recognize him now. 

Most of him knows it’s better if he doesn’t.

Tristan looks away, and goes back to talking, but his voice lowers and now Sean can’t quite pick up what he’s saying beyond a few scattered words. He gets a couple photos of the lovebirds with their head together, sipping coffee, and sends those on to Riley, too.

Job done, he settles back to finish his cannoli and drink his coffee. Tristan and-... Laken, his name suddenly supplies, only an hour after he’d started trying to remember it - get up and leave, Tristan’s arm around Laken’s waist.

Good for the kid, Sean thinks, with a smile. By this age Paul had an elementary school son running around, but you know, it’s good to take your time on these things, and it’s nice to see that all the shit they’ve had to stand back and watch still wraps up nicely into Paul’s boy living a pretty nice life indeed.

His phone dings just as Cilly enters - right on time at 10, like clockwork - and he glances down to open the message from Riley.

I’ll get one of our guys to look into it. This might give us the out on the business I don’t want to be in I’ve been looking for. Kid looks good, looks like Paul. Family genes run deep.

Sean greets Cilly, even older than him but a sight more spry, and glances out the window. The bird’s gone from the bench, of course. The day is bright and shining.

-

In Laken’s car, they’re halfway back to the house Laken shares with their roommates when Chris suddenly sits straight up. “Mr. Malley,” He breathes out, green eyes widening.

Laken jumps - he’d been silent, preoccupied and in thought - and nearly jerks the car into a curb. “Damn, Chris! You scared me. What’d you say?”

“The old guy, in, in, in the the the the-the-... the coffeeshop, who kept looking at, at me.” Chris rocks forward, hands on the dashboard, his eyes staring ahead but not at the road, they’re looking far ahead... or behind himself, back in time and not space, when and not where. “His name’s Mr. Malley. I, I, I knew-... my dad knew, my, my, my dad, my dad-” 

He winces, the headache splitting him apart, and Laken hits their turn signal, pulling into the parking lot of a generic fast food place, swinging into a parking space and turning to look at him. 

“Chris? You okay?”

Chris’s face has gone pale, cold sweat breaking out. It still happens, sometimes, and when they lean over to touch his shoulder he flinches back from them, instinctively.

Laken exhales. “Okay. Ride it out, Chris. Let the memory go if it’s hurting, it’ll come back to you. They all come back now.”

“No! No, I, I, I want-... Mr. Malley knew my dad, I went to-... work, with, with him sometimes, his his his wife babysat me, I... I know him. I knew him. I knew-” He turns to look at them, and they fight the urge to try and touch him again.

Not yet.

“Do you... do you think, think, think he knew me?”

Laken swallows. “I don’t think so. Wouldn’t he have said something, if he recognized you? If he was your dad’s friend? Are you absolutely sure that-”

“Yes, I’m, I’m sure. I know it was him. I, I, I know, he, he, he gave me me me Dinotopia books... for Christmas one year...” Chris jerked in a breath and let it out again, hands going up over his head, folding himself in half until his forehead rested on the dashboard, pressed to the cool molded plastic. “He, he, he, he came to their funeral, he hugged me, he said, you’re too young to to to to have to lose so much, and everyone said-... everyone said stuff I hated but but but not him, he said, he said-”

“Chris, please, don’t hurt yourself doing this-”

“He said grief gets worse before it gets better, and and and and he said-... he said... he said don’t let anyone tell you that R-Ronnie’d want you to to to be strong, she’d want you to scream your head off if you want to, your dad’d be proud if if if if-if... if you told us all to go to hell, and... and and and and it felt like he was the only person who who who knew them at all that day, everyone said, said, said stupid things but not him, not-... not him and not Mr. Cilly, not-... not my Aunt Jo, not anybody, but he-”

Chris chokes on a sob and when Laken throws their arms around him he melts into it this time, crying against their shoulder, the two of them uncomfortably arched over the center console and the gear shift. 

“It’s okay,” Laken whispers, running their fingers over the slowly growing fuzz of his hair. “It’s okay. Let it ride, Chris. It’s okay.”

“He, he, he was my dad’s b-b-best friend-... Why d-didn’t he, if he saw me, why wouldn’t he-... I s-see him all th-the the the time, why doesn’t he know who I am?”

“Maybe he’s like Akio,” Laken says, and feels him trembling under their touch. “Maybe he’s always thought you were dead.”

“I w-was,” Chris whispers “When I, I, I was Baldur. When I was training. When... when I... was good. I was dead.”

“Chris-”

“I was dead,” Chris says, and they kiss his head, helpless to think of anything else to do. “When my p-parents died, I died, too. Mr. Malley made m-me feel like I I I wasn’t. Why didn’t he kn-know me? Why didn’t a-anyone know I was alive?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

“Hurts,” Chris whispers. “Why, why, why didn’t anyone help me before she she she-... before I was-... why didn’t anyone help me?”

Laken’s own eyes burn, and they draw circles on his scalp with their fingertips. “I can’t answer that,” They say, low and soft. “I’m sorry. But you know you have people who can and will help you now.”

For a while, Chris’s only sounds are sobs, and Laken can only make soft soothing nonsense noises and feel like shit that it’s not enough.

“Ev, everyone knew she-she hated me,” Chris whimpers, and sounds younger than he ever has, and Laken wants to throw a punch or scream and they can’t do either, only sit in the car and glare at people who look in as they walk past. “Everyone.”

“Chris-”

“Everyone knew, why, why, why why why didn’t they stop her?”

-

Back in the coffeeshop, Sean and Cilly are in the midst of an argument about a baseball game that happened 30 years ago when his phone rings. He holds up one finger and picks it up, lifting it to his ear.

“I have a job for you,” Riley says, with his cheerful hint of brogue. Funny, to remember that this part of the family only came here a few decades ago. “It’s a job I know you’ll enjoy.”

“Watching Paul’s boy is my retirement gig,” Sean says amicably. “You know I don’t do the dangerous stuff any longer, Mr. Higgs.”

There’s a silence. “I’m going to do some looking into what you sent me. But in the meantime I need to give you a job, and you’re going to do it.”

“And why is that, Mr. Higgs?”

“Because you’re going to want to do this.”

“What is it, then?”

Another pause.

“I want you to find Joanne Botham.”

Sean thinks of the dour, angry woman who had ignored Tristan in his funeral suit, gathering mourners around her while she sobbed over Ronnie’s loss, Ronnie’s own son alone on a couch staring off into space until Sean himself had sat down and told him, don’t let ‘em say your mom’d be proud of you bein’ stoic today, kiddo. Ronnie’d want you to scream if you felt the urge. 

The kid had looked at him like he’d been given water in the desert, a starving man offered a bowlful of broth. Mr. Malley?

People will say a lot of real stupid stuff to you today, Sean had said. His eyes had gone to Joanne Botham, and Ronnie’s sister’s icy glare when she looked at her own nephew had made his blood run cold with anger even then. Likely in the future, too. But you just remember Paul and Ronnie weren’t saints. And they’d never want you to be, either. I’m sorry for your loss, Tris. No one on God’s earth has loved their kid like yours loved you. Should’ve seen his face when he told us your mom was pregnant with you. Could’ve lit the world with all the sunshine there.

A clap on the back, a whispered thank you, and that had been the last day Sean Malley had ever seen Tristan Higgs alive.

Until, of course, Riley had told him there was a boy living in a pet liberation safehouse who looked remarkably like Paul. Until, of course, Riley had shared that he’d known Tristan Higgs was alive all along. Until, of course, Sean had been told he couldn’t make a move because WRU was protecting all the players who had stolen his friend’s kid. 

Until... now.

“Mr. Higgs?” His voice drops, and Cilly sits up, alarmed at the sudden change in tone. 

“You heard me. Find Joanne Botham. I have a feeling we are about to get the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”

The phone goes dead on the other end, and Sean slowly sets it down, finishing his second cup of coffee in a gulp. Then he looks at Cilly, and starts to smile. 

“Riley’s got work for us,” He says, and when Cilly’s eyebrows raise he doesn’t wait for him to ask for more. “Don’t worry. You’re going to like it. Finally get to do what we should have done ten fucking years ago.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump ,  @whump-tr0pes  @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary @orchidscript @moose-teeth @nonsensical-whump

[mochegato]

Hope on Board

Chapter 4 – Acing the Test by Not Preparing Properly    

Chapter 1     Chapter 3

“Are you under the impression the third test might give you a different result?” Adrien asked with a strained amusement.

“We’ve seen stranger things,” Marinette spared a glance from the test on the counter in front of her to glare at him.  “And if I was in any way lucky,” this time she glared at Tikki who shrunk away behind Adrien while Plagg cackled at her, “it would.”

She returned her attention to the test only to give an aggravated yell.  “Son of a bitch!”  She grabbed the edge of the bathroom counter to support her as she folded over gasping for breath.

Adrien nodded thoughtfully. “It might be.”

She turned her head to glare at him.  “Are you kidding me!  Really?” He gave her a sheepish shrug even as he grimaced.  She groaned and collapsed on the floor, leaning against the wall and pulling her knees into her chest.  The distant thought occurred to her that she wasn’t going to be able to do that for much longer.  She wasn’t going to be able to do a lot of things for much longer.  God, how could she be so stupid.  She pulled her hair in frustration.

She was just starting up her business.  She had just entered into a partnership that was supposed to last at least two years. How was she going to manage the project if she was throwing up and had to take months off to take care of the baby? What if there were complications? How was she going to take care of the baby?  How was she going to support a baby if her business failed?  But how was her business going to succeed if she was focusing on making sure her baby had the attention they deserved.

She was broken from her spiraling thoughts by a weight across her shoulders.  She turned her head, still letting it rest on her knees, to look at Adrien.  He reached over to wipe away the tears she only then realized she had been crying. “It’ll be okay, Bugaboo.  There are options if you don’t want the baby and if you do, there are options.”

She gave him a weak smile, keeping her head on her knees for a few more moments before switching to lay her head on his shoulder.  “How am I supposed to get my company up and running and raise a baby on my own?  It takes so much time, both of them.  I’m half a world away from my family and most of our friends, fresh out of school, starting a business, entering a new partnership, which might get reneged if I can’t fulfill the requirements, and all alone. How do I do this?”

Adrien hugged her closer. “You’re not alone, Princess.  I’ll be right by you every step of the way. Even when you tell your parents.”

She gave a halfhearted laugh. “Yeah, that’s going to be a bloodbath.”

Adrien rested his head on hers.  “No it won’t. Do you have any idea how excited your Dad is going to be about being a grandfather?  They’re going to be worried about you.  They’ll have the same concerns for you that you do.  They won’t be mad.”

“The father might be,” she hedged.

Adrien was silent for a moment.  “You’re going to tell him?”

“I think he deserves to know. This baby might have a loving family nearby.  I don’t want to take that away if it is available.”  Her voice was starting to get stronger.  This was a decision she could control.  She could control whether she invited the father to be a part of their lives.  She couldn’t control his answer, but she could control the ask.

“You’re not worried about the weapons?” Adrien asked carefully.

“I am.  But Tikki is right, it could be an innocent explanation. I owe it to him to have the chance to explain.”

Adrien nodded, determination settling in his eyes.  “Okay, we tell him.”

“We?” she asked with an amused smile.

“We,” he confirmed.  “I said you weren’t going to do this alone. I meant it.  I’ll be there to support you.  I’ll help you find him and stay nearby when you tell him, if you want me to.”  He squeezed her again.  “So, what do you remember about where he lives?”

“It had a kitchen with weapons, a living room with a comfortable couch, and a bedroom with a bed that didn’t squeak,” she deadpanned.

He shot her a playful glare. “You can’t remember anything?”

“I remember… it was a door in the middle of a long corridor of doors on a floor a few floors up in a building in Gotham.”

“Oh that’s helpful.”

“I don’t know!” She threw her hands up in exasperation.  “I was still drunk and panicked and swung away as Ladybug so I don’t even have stores I passed to go off of.”

“What do you remember, for real this time?”

She turned to stare at a point in the distance, trying to focus her mind and order her thoughts. What did she remember?  Not much.  She had flashes.  She remembered the feelings he stirred in her.  She smiled nostalgically as she described her memories.  “A smile, a touch, his eyes looking soft and sweet. The feeling of being watched out for, of being wanted, more than just physically.”

Adrien gave a long suffering sigh and collapsed his legs to the bathroom floor.  “Well that’s helpful to track him down.”

Marinette rolled her eyes and pushed him away.  “You asked what I remembered.  I didn’t even remember his name on my own.”  She groaned and hit her head against the wall behind her.  “Why did you let me go home with him?  You were supposed to be my voice of reason!”

“You said you were sure. You said it was cosmic intervention… I think.”  He rubbed his head as phantom pains returned.  “You remember more about that night than I do.”

She groaned again, this one taking a whinier tone than the previous groans.  “That was the sixth drink and eighth shot talking.”

“Well your eighth shot was very convincing to my ninth shot.”

“And how could I have not used a condom?  I couldn’t possibly have been that far gone that I didn’t demand protection.  Could he…” her body stilled, her mind froze as a horrifying thought occurred to her, “…could he have not used one?  And said he did?”

Adrien grimaced.  “Or he was drunk and thought he did.  Or thought you said not to.  Not that you did!  Just that he was really drunk and misinterpreted!” He rushed to add upon seeing her reaction to the suggestion.

“No, you used a condom,” Tikki offered quietly.  “Just not the whole time.”

Marinette’s head whipped to her.  “Okay, first, ew!  Why do you know that!  Were you watching?”

“No!” Tikki exclaimed indignantly.  “But voices carry, especially when they are very loud.” She gave Marinette a pointed look.

Marinette eyed her suspiciously but continued, “Second, what does that mean?”

Tikki sighed dejectedly. “It means you did stuff before you put it on.  And if you’re particularly lucky, that’s enough.”

“Oh my God,” Adrien muttered absentmindedly.

“Oh my God!” Marinette yelled, realization setting in.

“Yeah, I bet Tikki heard that a lot that night too,” Plagg cackled.

All three eyes shot to him in a glare that did nothing to diminish his laughter.

“You mean I’m pregnant because I’m Ladybug?  Because I was wearing the earrings?” Marinette whisper screeched.

“Not… entirely… but, it influenced it.  You’re the wielder of Creation.  It’s going to increase your chances of the right things happening in the right order to create life.  But you two are the ones who didn’t wear a condom for the whole act, allowing semen to be present and you two are the ones who gave each other multiple orgasms, which helped move the semen into the right position.  You very much could have gotten pregnant without any miraculous intervention.”

Marinette’s mouth hung open and her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.  “Multiple orgasms, huh?” Adrien asked waggling his eyebrows.

“Judging by the screaming, I’d say both of them were highly proficient,” Tikki nodded in confirmation.

“Oh my God,” Marinette whispered into her hands covering her face.  “This is a nightmare.  Not only am I pregnant, I have to hear this.  I cannot get a break.”

Adrien shrugged.  “It could be worse.  It could have been bad.”

“It doesn’t really matter if I couldn’t remember it,” Marinette pointed out.

“Yeah, but next time you’ll remember it,” he pointed out.

“If there is a next time,” Marinette sighed.

“There will be,” Adrien reassured her.  “It was cosmic intervention.  It will bring you back together again.”

Marinette shook her head and rested it on his shoulder with her eyes closed.  “I wish I was as optimistic as you.”

“It will all work out eventually.  Until then, you have commissions to finish before the gala, including your dress. You need to look impeccable so we can network for your company.”

Marinette groaned and dropped her legs to the ground.  “Can’t I just fall apart for one minute, please?”

“Nope.  You need to get back to work doing something you love and can focus on.  If it happens to be something that calms you as well?  Well that’s just good for you and the baby.  Come on,” he stood up and offered her his hand to help her up, “you start working and I’ll go out and get some pregnancy supplies for you.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I think you’re more excited about this than I am.”

“You’re going to have a baby! You have a little bug in the oven! If you don’t break it to your dad with a pun, he and I will be so disappointed,” he gave her a mock stern look before pulling her into a comforting embrace.  “You’re going to be ecstatic about this, too, once the shock wears off.  I know you and I know you’re going to be an amazing mom,” he whispered with a kiss to the top of her head.  “And I’m going to be the fun uncle that he, she, or they gets really excited to hang out with and takes them for ice cream and he comes to whenever she has problems they can’t go to you about.” He gave her an excited smile as he thought about the future.

“Now move.  The gala’s coming up in just a few weeks and you have a ton of work to finish and you’re going to be panicking about letting Tim down and you’re not going to be able to chug coffee and energy drinks anymore.”  

Marinette emitted a woeful, agonized moan that even the neighbors heard.

Chapter 5

Tags:

@dickinette-february @demonicbusiness