#Like bow hunter security

[oifaaa]

My critique of yj is that with the first season I was like cute superhero team doing shenanigans like teen titans and then the later season were Not That

Which they were good seasons but not what I signed up for ya know? So like all my favorite episodes are from that first season

Tbf I feel like the tone of the show shifted more at the end of season 1 which I never complained about as I prefer that style of story to episodic teen adventures which might also be why I could never get into the teen titans cartoon - also maybe why it seems like a majority of my favourite episodes come from season 3 although season 2 is still my favourite over all

[reshinless]

──── see me, see me not

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ synopsis. in which kinich takes his headwear off, and puts it on you (in a different way)

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ pairings. kinich x gn!afab!reader,!!NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ director's notice. i have a feeling he would not gonna lie :pray:

"p- please.. kin- t'fast.." is all you could whimper out as kinich swallowed at the sight of your pretty body being used- slamming himself into your red, puffy hole from behind. each heavenly thrust only making you throw your head back in everlasting pleasure

both your breathy moans filled the space you both stayed in- kinich who just groans your name, the red bow-like marks made from his nails as he left a breathy gasp, almost like catching his breath still. his stares at how well your entrance took him drove him frantic.

"oh f-fffuck.." is all you could hear, kinich's headwear comfortably over your eyes— the beads of sweat on both your forehead's scent only brimming the room. feeling a pair of two fingers come to your mouth- "suck." a raspy voice emits from behind you.

kinich who overhears mualani stepping into the lobby outside the small room he unconveniently chose. "kinich! where are you?!" is heard visibly throughout the halls as he holds your hips close, pushing you up against the wall from your previous position of simply bending over and taking his cock :o

"quiet, baby." is all you hear, kinich who still won't take the blindfold off of your eyes, yet he just oh-so accidently grinds his cock against your g-spot. his fingers in your mouth, as you bite down on them a little as he tries to keep your volume to a minimum while still giving you as much pleasure as possible.

your heart raced as mualani reached for the knob of the door before someone from outside called her for help, making her leave effectively. kinich who loved the adrenaline of almost being caught, only letting the moans escape your glossy lips as he finally released his fingers from your mouth— "ahh— shit sweetheart, that's right.. ssshitt..." he groaned from behind.

the way you start to clench around him with his merciless thrust keeping its pace, oh he's gonna cum in you. whining as you feel him changing the position again, this time to his favorite- missionary.

wherein he secures your thighs around his waist, his strength keeping you up on the wall, you can hear each little squelch, every little plop. "yeeaahh.. that's right, pretty." hearing your wails of pleasure, leaning down to mark you around your collarbone as he kept up the violent strikes, watching the way you fumble your hands anywhere you could, not being able to see what he was doing, you're so pretty, he wished you could see that for yourself.

"uhuh? ffuck.. yeah you gonna come baby?" his teasing tone into the shell of your ear, feeling his warm breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine, your hips quavered at his actions, you were already starting to see stars.

the way he hit you so raw, you feel as if you'll be snapped in half soon, his tight grip on your waist, and securing your legs to attach his torso, if he doesn't slow down you might just crack! the insane amount of stamina you gain after working as a hunter for so long definitely is a ton. drilling his cock into you, feeling every inch inside of you, every vein come in and out.

he huffs "shit you feel.. s' good pretty.. so fffuckin' good.." —you can smell every detail on him, the floral smell he always has on that he promises isn't on purpose, mixed with the moist, and musky scent of your swear (& his).

kinich, with a long groan, "just one more, baby.. just one moreee.." who's been saying that for the past 3 hours, but who can blame him when he just can't get enough of you. cumming inside you for about the fifth time already! who wouldn't cum with the way you clench down onto his cock with your velvety entrance, or the way you'd scratch at his back (after finally finding where he was), claw marks that looks of a beast. who wouldn't cum, seeing how much your entrance was talking to him, luring him in, so wet and ready for him, you were practically made for him, and his cock.

how many times has he emptied himself into you? can't count. how many times have you come on his dick alone? can't count either. how many hours has it been? stop asking me questions!

watching the way your back arched as you moaned out his name, the way you legs shivered, the intense heavenly feeling of getting to cum with you was more passionate than anything he's done in the past. he hadn't even realized the way your juices squirted everywhere!

"huh.. that's the first time i've seen you do that."

...

"wanna do that again?"

kinich weapon alert !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (i have no resin sighh)

[beombunni]

A KISS FOR THE CURSED - ,, ୧ ‧₊˚ c.yj

》 In a kingdom of stone and gold, there lived a princess with hair as pink as the dawn. Her heart, though draped in royal jewels, was heavy with the weight of expectation, for the king and queen demanded she find a husband worthy of her title. The castle’s walls pressed close, and her spirit yearned for freedom, for something beyond the cold, glittering halls.

One day, when the pressure became too great, she slipped away from the castle and wandered into the woods, seeking solace in its quiet embrace. It was there, among the trees, that she met him—a boy, no older than she, with eyes like the forest and a bow slung over his shoulder. He was a hunter, living in a humble cabin, selling the fruits of his labor to those who passed by. But in the way he moved, so graceful and wild, the princess saw something more—a soul untainted by the constraints of royalty....

》 𝔱𝔵𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 & 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢…

pairings » archer!yeonjun x princess!reader

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 » smut » royal au » forbidden romance »

warnings » smut, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (f) receiving, angst, longing, forbidden romance, yeonjun hunts animals, reader has pink hair, very heavily inspired by the 'once upon a broken heart' series by Stephanie garber, major character death, kai is seventeen in this, also featuring beomgyu briefly, blood, beatings, dungeons, toxic parents, royal hierarchy, a bit of grumpy x sunshine, readers pov is 2nd person "You" yeonjun's pov is 3rd person "He" a lot is in yeonjun's pov though, yeonjun has a noticeable scar on his eyebrow (for the plot), kind of love at first sight, this is not slow burn sorry, there is a disease called "The fever"

« 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 »

word count « 24K »

The golden glow of a single candle bathes your chambers, its light dancing across the silk-draped walls. You sit at your vanity, brushing your hair with slow, deliberate strokes. The polished wood of the brush feels cool in your hand, a small comfort against the storm brewing inside you. Behind you, there’s the soft rustle of skirts, a sound that sets your nerves on edge even before she speaks. “Darling,” your mother begins, her voice sweet, almost sing-song as she opens your door without so much as a knock.  “You’re twenty now. A woman grown. You can’t keep hiding behind those books and tapestries forever.” She glides across the room and perches on the edge of your bed, her posture as poised and deliberate as her words. 

“I’m not hiding, Mother,” you reply without turning to face her. Your reflection catches hers in the mirror—a study in contrasts. You, unadorned and weary. Her, perfect and poised, a mask of maternal care that you’ve come to mistrust. She was not the sweet doting mother she pretends to be, and you felt her icy-ness as soon as she neared you. 

“Of course not,” she says with a light laugh, the sound brushing away your words as though they were a child’s excuse. “But it’s time you thought seriously about your future. The kingdom needs alliances and a good match could secure that.” 

You place the brush down with deliberate care and turn to face her. “And what if I don’t love any of these ‘good matches’? Am I to bind myself to someone who sees me as nothing more than a means to an end?” You had grown tired of this same conversation. One you've had a million times over with her and your father. 

She sighs, and for a moment, the warmth in her voice almost feels real. Almost. “Oh, my sweet girl, love is a luxury we can’t always afford. Your father and I—” She pauses, her hand drifting to her heart as if recalling a fond memory. “We grew to love each other over time. You’ll see. Love often follows where duty leads.” You narrow your eyes, searching her face for cracks in the mask. “Did it? Did love really follow, or did you simply learn to endure it?”

Her expression wavers—just for a heartbeat—but it’s enough. The softness in her eyes hardens, and when she stands, it’s with a grace that feels more commanding than comforting. “Don’t let childish notions blind you” she says, her tone sharper now. “The world isn’t a fairy tale. It’s a harsh, unyielding place, and one day, you’ll rule it. You must start preparing for that now.” 

Your throat tightens, but you manage to keep your voice steady. “I would rather rule with my heart than sell it to the highest bidder.” 

Her lips curl into a smile, and she steps closer, cupping your cheek in her hand. The gesture is tender, but her eyes betray her—calculating, assessing. “You’ll understand someday, my love,” she murmurs. “And when you do, you’ll thank me for guiding you.” You pull away, your skin burning where her hand had rested. She lingers for a moment longer, her presence suffocating even in its quietness. Then, with a swish of her skirts, she moves to the door. The click of it closing echoes in the silence she leaves behind. You stare at your reflection, your chest heaving with unshed tears and unsaid words. The candlelight catches the glint of defiance in your eyes, and in that moment, you vow that no one—not even your mother—will decide your future for you.

You had never snuck out of the castle before. The thought had scared you enough that you hadn’t ever dared to attempt it, but tonight you felt you had to. The suffocating four walls of your chambers had felt so overbearing that the thought of another second in them would cause the end of your life. You had to escape, even if only for a few hours at least. You needed fresh air. To feel the wind in your hair, smell the trees and feel the grass between your fingertips. 

You rarely get that these days, with all the preparations of finding you a husband and shipping you off to some unknown country with a man that was to be your husband and yet a stranger at the same time. You couldn't handle it anymore. You grabbed your cloak and made quick work on sneaking out. 

The castle sleeps. Its towering spires stretch into the star-speckled sky, dark against the moonlight. You slip from your chambers, the soft soles of your boots muffling each step on the cold stone floor. The velvet cloak swirls around your ankles, its deep green fabric blending into the shadows as you descend the servant's staircase. Your heart races, but not from fear. It's the exhilaration of escape, of leaving behind the suffocating weight of expectations.

The conversation you and your mother had not even an hour ago swimming in your mind. The words of your father this morning echoing in your head like a cacophony "This lord has lands to the west," they said. "That one commands an army. It’s time to secure your future.” You grit your teeth at the thought, gripping the edge of your cloak tighter. They don’t understand. Marriage isn’t what frightens you—it’s the thought of marrying someone who sees you as a pawn, not a person. You couldn't bring yourself to have a marriage like your mother and fathers. A marriage that lacked authenticity, lacked real love. You refused it. Rebuked it. 

The air is cooler as you reach the garden gate, slipping through the narrow gap you discovered years ago. The guards won’t check here; they never do. Beyond the walls lies freedom, the forest calling to you like an old friend. The scent of damp earth and pine greets you as you step into the woods. The moon guides your path, its light filtering through the canopy. You keep your pace quick but quiet. You had a general idea of the outlands of the castle from all of your lessons. You needed to know how to get out of the castle in case of an attack. You were sure that your teachers didn't know you'd be using the information they taught you to sneak out, but here you were. 

The forest feels alive tonight. Crickets chirp in the underbrush, and a gentle breeze stirs the leaves above. Each step takes you further from the castle, from the expectations, from the stifling weight of duty. You keep your steps light trying your best to make as little as sound as possible. You couldn't risk being caught. Then you hear it, a faint thwack ahead, the unmistakable sound of an arrow striking wood. You freeze, heart leaping into your throat. Slowly, carefully, you edge closer, stepping around a patch of dry leaves to avoid making a sound. Peeking around a thick oak, you see him. A man unfamiliar to you. He stands in the clearing, tall and strong, his silhouette framed by moonlight. A bow is in his hands, an arrow already knocked. His movements are fluid, deliberate, as if every motion is a part of a dance. The arrow flies, and your breath catches as it strikes dead center on the straw target.

He’s beautiful. The moon shines just enough through the branches of the trees above him creating a halo like light over his head and face. You should turn back. You know this. You should retrace your steps and leave before he notices you. But you don’t. Something about him holds you in place. His focus, the grace in his movements, the quiet strength in the way he adjusts his stance. He’s close to your age, maybe a year or two older, with dark hair that curls at the nape of his neck. He’s the most handsome man you have ever laid your eyes on. And by far the most graceful. 

He reaches for another arrow, the muscles in his arms flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt. You crouch lower behind the tree, your cloak pooling around you. The thrill of sneaking out has faded into something else—something warmer, something unfamiliar. You had never had the privilege of just watching a man so..closely like this. You weren't even allowed to be around a man without a chaperone. You tell yourself you’re just curious. It’s not often you meet someone out here in the woods. But as you watch him, you realize it’s more than that. He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever seen before. 

He has no idea you’re here. And for now, you’re content to watch, hidden in the shadows of the trees, as he draws and releases, each arrow flying true. The world feels smaller at this moment. The castle and its demands are miles away, and the only thing that exists is you, the moonlit forest, and the archer practicing under the stars. You watch for only a breath longer before the stillness breaks under your foot. A dry leaf, hidden beneath the forest loam, crumples with a loud crack that seems to echo in the night. The archer freezes. His body tenses as he pivots toward you, bow raised, an arrow drawn in a heartbeat. The sudden movement sends a jolt of panic through you, and you instinctively step back, pressing against the rough bark of the tree.

“Who’s there?” His voice is sharp, low, and commanding. The moonlight glints off his eyes—hard and narrowed, scanning the shadows where you’re hidden. You hold your breath, heart hammering in your chest. For a moment, you consider fleeing, but before you can move, he spots you. “Show yourself,” he demands, the arrow steady in his grip. 

Slowly, you step out from behind the tree, your hands raised in a gesture of surrender. The cloak’s hood still shrouds your face, but the moonlight catches the strands of pink hair peeking out. His gaze sharpens, and you see his brow furrow as he lowers the bow slightly. “a girl?” His voice softens but only slightly, his tone still laced with suspicion. He lowers the bow completely but doesn’t relax, his eyes studying you intently. “What are you doing out here, creeping around like that?” 

You swallow, suddenly acutely aware of how small you feel under his piercing gaze. “I wasn’t creeping,” you say, your voice soft but steady. “I was… walking. I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“Walking,” he repeats, his tone flat and disbelieving. He glances at your cloak, the fine embroidery glinting faintly in the moonlight. “In the middle of the night. Alone. Right.” He snorts, shaking his head as if the very idea is absurd. “Who are you?” His demeanor startled you, not expecting such a graceful man to sound so..rough. 

You hesitate. You’re not ready to give your name—or your title. “No one important.” If he knew you were the princess there was no guessing what he would do. Turn you in? Kidnap you? Hold you for ransom, it was unknown but you'd rather not find out. 

He arches an eyebrow, unimpressed. “No one important who sneaks through the woods and watches people like a ghost.” 

Heat rises to your cheeks, both from embarrassment and indignation. “I wasn’t watching you—well, not on purpose. I heard something, and I… got curious.” You couldn't explain to him that you didn't get out much, he would ask too many questions. You'd rather have him think you a dumb naive girl then a sheltered princess. 

His expression softens, but only slightly. He seems to accept your answer, though he doesn’t seem thrilled about it. “Curiosity gets people into trouble. Especially out here.” You should feel insulted by his gruffness, but instead, you find yourself intrigued. There’s something captivating about the way he carries himself, the guarded way he speaks. He’s not like the polished, over-rehearsed lords who populate the castle halls. He’s… real. It was as perplexing as it was scary, how little knowledge you had of the common folk, how little you saw them. He was beautiful like a prince, even more than most but something about him felt unpolished and you admired that. 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. But you can’t help the way your eyes linger on him, tracing the sharp angles of his face, the way the moonlight highlights his dark hair. He’s beautiful in a way that feels almost unfair, though his scowl adds an edge to it, like he’s carved from stone. He notices your lingering gaze and narrows his eyes. “What?” How he wasn’t more concerned by a random girl creeping on him in the middle of the night had struck you. 

“Nothing,” you say quickly, pulling your cloak tighter around you. “I just… I’ve never seen anyone shoot like that before.” Which was the truth. You had never seen the guards in true action, you had only seen them practicing and even then they were nowhere near as precise as this man was. 

His scowl deepens, though a faint hint of surprise flickers in his expression. “You were watching me.” 

Your cheeks flush again, and you look away, hoping the shadows hide your embarrassment. “Only for a moment. You’re… good.” 

For the first time, he seems caught off guard. He looks at you as if trying to figure you out, then sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, whoever you are, it’s late, and you shouldn’t be out here. Go home.” You hated the way he spoke to you, like you were a useless pesky object in his way. Like everyone around you spoke to you. 

His tone is dismissive, but you don’t move. Instead, you tilt your head, studying him. “Why are you out here, then?” 

He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “That’s none of your business.” 

“And me being here is none of yours,” you counter, surprising yourself with your boldness. You had never talked back to anyone before. Partly in fear of what your mother and father would do to you as a punishment. For a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes catching the moonlight. 

“You’re stubborn,” he mutters, shaking his head. 

“And you’re grumpy,” you reply, the words slipping out before you can stop them. 

“Suit yourself. Just don’t get in my way.” He says with a snark, dismissing you completely. As he turns back to his target, knocking another arrow, you find yourself smiling beneath your hood. For the first time in days, you feel alive—caught in the strange, thrilling pull of the forest, the night, and the boy who doesn’t know who you are. It was hopelessly refreshing, having someone to banter with. He hadn't known you were the princess. All expectations of respectfully boring conversation were not needed here, you felt normal. 

You don’t leave. Something about him keeps you rooted to the spot. Maybe it’s his impenetrable demeanor, so unlike anyone you’ve met before. Or maybe it’s the way he seems utterly unconcerned by you, as though you’re not worth the effort of a proper scolding. Either way, instead of retreating, you take a few cautious steps closer. “What are you still doing here?” he asks without looking back, his voice carrying a rough edge. He draws another arrow and lets it fly. Thwack. It lands squarely in the center of the target. You swear you could have drooled at the sight alone. You were just a girl after all. 

“I told you—I was walking,” you say, folding your arms beneath the cloak. 

​​“In the middle of the night. In that?” He gestures vaguely toward you without turning. Your cloak shifts as you glance down at yourself. The hem of your pink dress peeks out, delicate and impractical. The sight of it makes you wince. It’s not exactly what you’d have chosen for sneaking into the woods, but there hadn’t been time to change. You had very minimal time before the confines of your bedroom swallowed you whole. 

“Yes, this,” you reply, tilting your chin. “Not all of us plan our wardrobe for forest excursions.” 

That earns you a glance over his shoulder. His eyes rake over you, lingering just long enough to make you self-conscious. Then he snorts. “You look like you wandered out of a ball. Did you lose your way to the dance floor?” Your spine straightens at his words. He didn’t know..did he? 

Your cheeks burn. “For your information, I didn’t plan to be out here tonight.” You try your best to avert the subject, avoiding all talk of balls and princess-like duties. 

“Oh, clearly,” he mutters, turning back to his bow. “Because you definitely blend right in.” 

You roll your eyes, stepping closer again. “Are you always this charming, or am I just lucky?” Your lips purse suppressing your smile. That gets his attention. He pauses mid-draw and glances at you, one eyebrow raised. For a moment, you think you’ve caught him off guard, but then his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smirk. “Lucky,” he says dryly, before loosing the arrow. Another perfect shot. 

You shake your head, exasperated but oddly entertained. “You’re impossible.” 

“And you’re nosy,” he counters, retrieving another arrow. 

“I don't get out much.” You say with a lift of your shoulders. 

“Clearly.” He deadpanned. “What’s your excuse for being out here, anyway? Fancy dresses and all?” 

The question catches you off guard. You hesitate, pulling your cloak tighter. “I needed to get away.” 

“From what?” he asks, his tone skeptical. 

You glance at the ground, then back up at him. His eyes are on you now, not the target, and you feel a strange urge to tell the truth. Not all of it, but enough. “Look who's being nosey now.” He snorts as you continue “My parents,” you admit softly. “They’re… overbearing.” 

He snorts. “Overbearing parents? Shocking.” 

You narrow your eyes. “I’m serious. They’ve been pressuring me nonstop, telling me who I should be, what I should want. It’s—” You trail off, shaking your head. “It’s exhausting.” 

For a moment, he just looks at you, the teasing edge in his expression fading. “So, what? You ran off to the woods to escape their nagging?” 

“Something like that,” you say, lifting your chin. “Not that it’s any of your business.” 

He huffed a laugh and leaned against his bow. “Fair enough. But sneaking into the woods wearing that dress?” He gestures again at the hem of your gown. “Bold choice.” 

“Do you ever stop criticizing people?” you shoot back, though there’s no real venom in your words. 

“Not when they make it this easy.” His smirk returns, faint but noticeable. 

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling beneath your hood. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not leaving.” 

“Suit yourself,” he mutters, turning back to his target. “Just don’t expect me to babysit you if you trip over your fancy shoes.”  

You bite back a retort and instead settle against a tree to watch him. He doesn’t seem to mind—though he throws the occasional glance your way, as if checking to make sure you haven’t disappeared or done something foolish. The silence stretches, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the rhythmic thwack of his arrows. It’s strangely comforting, this moment shared with a stranger in the middle of the woods. For the first time in weeks, the weight of the crown on your head feels a little lighter. 

You watch as he moves with practiced ease, drawing and releasing arrow after arrow. The steady rhythm of his practice feels like the heartbeat of the forest, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. For a moment, you close your eyes, letting the quiet wash over you. The weight of the day—the endless parade of suitors, the sharp-edged words of your parents, the suffocating walls of the castle—feels distant now, almost unreal. Out here, under the stars, you’re not the princess with a duty to marry for the good of the kingdom. You’re just… you. 

The thought stirs something bittersweet in your chest. You know this moment can’t last. Sooner or later, you’ll have to return to the castle, to the expectations and the responsibilities. This fleeting sense of freedom, of solace, will be nothing but a memory. You open your eyes again, focusing on him. He’s still at it, firing arrow after arrow with a precision that’s almost mesmerizing. There’s a quiet determination in the way he moves, as though this practice is more than a simple pastime. It feels like a ritual, a way of carving out his own space in the world. He moved like he was meant to be there, like the act of archery was engraved into his soul. 

For a brief, foolish moment, you wonder what it would be like to stay. To slip away from the castle every night, to watch him practice and trade sharp words under the moonlight. But you shake the thought away. It’s impossible. Still, you linger. You don’t want to leave just yet—not while the night still feels alive around you, not while you can still breathe without the weight of the crown pressing down.

Silently, you push away from the tree and step back into the shadows. The forest seems quieter now, as though it knows you’re leaving. You glance back once, catching the faint glint of his bow in the moonlight, the outline of his form as he lines up another shot. You slip away before he can notice, retracing your steps through the woods and back toward the castle. The chill of the night air clings to you, and the weight of reality begins to settle back onto your shoulders with each step closer to the towering walls.

By the time you slip through the garden gate, the spell is broken. The castle looms ahead, its windows dark and silent, the very air around it heavy with expectations. But for a few precious hours, you had tasted something different—something real. And as you climb the servant’s staircase back to your chambers, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever see him again. 

The morning sun filters through the stained-glass windows of the dining hall, casting jeweled patterns onto the long oak table. You sit in your usual seat, the one that feels more like a throne than a chair, the weight of your parents’ presence pressing down on you like the crown you don’t yet wear. Breakfast is a quiet affair, at least for you. The clink of silverware and the murmurs of servants fill the space as your father, The king mutters about political alliances to your mother, The Queen. His deep voice carries a sharp edge, his words precise and biting, even when directed at your mother. You keep your head down, focused on the food sitting in front of you. 

You barely hear him call your name. Your thoughts are elsewhere—lost in the forest, in the soft rustle of leaves and the quiet thwack of an arrow hitting its mark. You see the archer in your mind’s eye, his focused gaze, the smooth movement of his hands as he loosed each shot. “Are you listening?” your father snaps, his voice cutting through your reverie like a whip. 

You blink, startled, and glance up at him. His dark eyes are cold and unforgiving, his thick brows drawn into a scowl. “Yes, Father,” you lie, though you have no idea what he just said. Trying to gather yourself. Your father was a very angry man, even more so when you were being disobedient. 

He doesn’t believe you—he never does—but he waves it off, taking another bite of bread. “Good. Then you understand how important this ball is.” 

The word ball yanks you out of your thoughts entirely. You sit up straighter, your heart sinking. “A ball?” You narrowly avoided most balls claiming to be sick, or having your nursemaid lie and say you had lessons very early in the morning. Not like your parents knew you were lying, they rarely kept track of those things, only that they were being done. 

“Yes,” your mother says, her voice softer but no less resolute. She looks at you with the faintest trace of pity, but it does little to soothe the knot forming in your chest. “It’s time for you to meet suitors. Proper ones. The lords of the neighboring countries will all be in attendance.” 

You shake your head, your fingers tightening around the silver spoon in your hand. “I don’t want a ball. I don’t want suitors.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your lips. Any defiance to your father was a grave mistake, one you were sure you’d regret shortly here. 

Your father slams his goblet onto the table, making you flinch. “You don’t get to decide what you want,” he growls. “You have a duty to this kingdom, girl. Do you think your whims matter when alliances are at stake?” His words shake you. You knew how he felt but hearing him say it didn't make the blow any less hurtful. It brought you back to the quiet nights you spent curled into a ball on your bed at eight years old wondering why your daddy didn't love you like the other daddies did, why was yours so mean. 

You lower your gaze to your plate, your stomach twisting. The archer’s face flickers in your mind again, unbidden. You wonder what he would say if he saw you like this, cowed under your father’s fury. The pink hue of your long hair covering your face shielding you from your embarrassment. “You’ll go to your dress fitting after breakfast,” your mother adds, her tone brisk as though she’s trying to smooth over the tension. “Nursemaid Kora will take you. Everything must be perfect.” 

Perfect. The word feels like shackles on your wrists. 

“Do you understand?” your father demands. 

“Yes,” you say quietly, though the word feels like ash on your tongue. The king grunts, satisfied, and turns back to his food. The rest of breakfast passes in strained silence, broken only by the occasional murmur of servants or the scrape of knives on plates. Your thoughts were loud as they rattled around in your head. 

Oh how did you long for a normal life, with a normal family and parents who loved you. You glance toward the far end of the room, where the king’s guard stands like statues, their polished armor gleaming faintly in the morning light. Their presence is a constant reminder of the cage you live in—one gilded and grand, but a cage nonetheless. 

Your mind drifts again, this time to the forest, to the sense of freedom you’d felt beneath the trees. To the archer, with his sharp gaze and quiet strength. You wonder if he’s out there now, practicing his craft in the clearing. Does he think about you at all? Did he even notice the way you lingered last night? You thought of his beautiful face and the way the moonlight caught it just right. 

Foolishly you thought of a life with him. One filled with love and light, one that you had only conjured in your mind. It was unattainable and you were sure you would never see him again but still the thought loosened your bones and slowled the rapid beating of your heart. You didn't even know his name, and he yours but still you daydreamed the way he would whisper it, into the woods and into wind all the way until it reached you. It would engulf you, swirling around your being and reaching your heart. 

Your mother calls your name with a softness that only you knew was faux. “Come.” She says rising from her seat. “Kora is waiting.” You nod numbly and stand, your pink dress swishing around your legs as you follow her out of the dining hall. But your heart stays behind, tangled somewhere between the memory of the archer’s steady hands and the ache of knowing you’ll likely never see him again. 

The village square bustled with life, though as always, it seemed to pulse around him, not with him. Yeonjun stood near the edge of the market, his wares laid out neatly on a rough-hewn table: freshly skinned rabbit pelts, bundles of dried herbs, and slabs of venison wrapped in cloth. He adjusted the placement of the furs, not because they needed straightening, but because it gave him something to do.

The morning sun warmed his back, but he felt no comfort in it. A pair of women whispered as they passed, their glances darting his way like skittish birds. One muttered a prayer under her breath, her gaze lingering on the scar that cut across his brow—a mark left by a long-forgotten accident but whispered about like it was the devil’s curse. They always whispered about him. Yeonjun the orphan. Yeonjun the cursed. He clenched his jaw and focused on his work, brushing his fingers over the pelts. Let them talk.

“Still brooding, I see.” Yeonjun didn’t need to look up to recognize the voice. Beomgyu, his only friend, or as close to one as he allowed. The man sauntered over, carrying a sack slung across his broad shoulders, his cheeks red from the morning chill.

“I’m not brooding,” Yeonjun muttered, though he didn’t lift his head. 

“Sure you’re not.” Beomgyu dropped the sack beside the table with a dull thud. “You’ve got that same ‘stay away from me’ look you always do.” Beomgyu sent Yeonjun a crooked teasing grin. 

Yeonjun gave him a sidelong glance. “It works, doesn’t it?”

Beomgyu laughed, a deep, easy sound that drew a few more glances from the villagers. Unlike Yeonjun , Beomgyu seemed immune to the weight of their stares. His carelessness was off putting to Yeonjun “You know, you might be less miserable if you actually talked to people once in a while.”

“I talk to you, don’t I?” Yeonjun said flatly.

Beomgyu shook his head, still smiling. “I’m not people. I’m a saint for putting up with you.” A saint was far from what Yeonjun would call Beomgyu. The boy was anything but a saint. 

Yeonjun huffed a quiet laugh despite himself, but the faint flicker of amusement quickly faded. His mind drifted unbidden to the girl in the woods. Her cloak, the way the moonlight caught the strands of pink hair peeking from beneath it. Who was she? Although he rarely frequented the village, opting to stick to his little cabin in the woods, he was sure that he would spot that bright pink hair anywhere on any given day. Everyone came to the village on selling days, surely he would have seen her walking around, right? 

He’d told himself to forget her. To let her vanish into the shadows of memory like everything else. But the image of her standing beneath the trees, her voice soft but bold, wouldn’t leave him. “Anyway,” Beomgyu said, breaking Yeonjun’s thoughts, “I came to ask you something.”

Yeonjun raised a thick brow. “What?”

Beomgyu grinned, a little too wide. “There’s work up at the castle.”

Yeonjun’s expression darkened immediately. “No.” 

“Don’t be like that,” Beomgyu said, unfazed. “The princess’s ball is coming up. They need extra hands for the feast. We’d be in the kitchens, nothing fancy. Just bringing up meat for the royals.”

“I said no,” Yeonjun growled, his voice low.

Beomgyu leaned against the table, crossing his arms. Gone was the playfulness, a look of desperation in its place. “Look, I know you hate the nobles—” 

“I don’t hate them,” Yeonjun snapped. “I just don’t care for their games.” 

“Fine. Call it what you want. But they’re paying good coin, and we could use the work.” Beomgyu’s voice softened slightly. “You could use it, Yeonjun. How long are you going to keep doing this?” He gestured to the table, to the furs and meat that earned just enough to keep him alive. Yeonjun glanced down, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. He did need the money. 

“Fine,” he muttered finally, his voice sharp and bitter. 

Beomgyu clapped him on the shoulder. “Good man.” Yeonjun flinched away from the touch, shrugging it off. He started packing up his things, his movements quick and tense. But even as he worked, his mind drifted again to the girl in the woods. 

Her voice had been so sure when she’d said she was curious, her smile hidden beneath her hood. And yet, there had been something else in her eyes, something that mirrored the ache he carried in his own chest. Almost like a mirror of himself. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t see her again. 

Everyone he loved—everyone he cared for—was gone. His family, his friends. Death followed him like a shadow, and he would not drag her into it. He wouldn’t. He would take the coin from the castle and leave. He wouldn’t think about her again. But as he slung his pack over his shoulder and followed Beomgyu out of the square, he knew it was a lie.

The cabin creaked as the night wind curled around its edges, pushing through the gaps in the wooden shutters. Yeonjun sat by the hearth, sharpening his hunting knife with slow, deliberate strokes. The repetitive motion grounded him, giving him a momentary reprieve from his restless thoughts. The fire crackled, casting shadows on the walls, but the warmth did little to soften the cold weight in his chest. The girl from the woods was still there in his mind, her pink hair catching the moonlight, her voice lilting like birdsong. He hated that he kept thinking about her. 

A sharp knock at the door broke the stillness. Yeonjun froze, his hand tightening on the knife. For a long moment, he didn’t move, his eyes fixed on the door. No one came out here—no one dared, except for Beomgyu. And Beomgyu never knocked, opting to barge whenever he pleased. Another knock, louder this time.

With a sigh, Yeonjun stood and set the knife on the table. He crossed the room, pulling the door open just enough to see who stood on the other side.A boy no older than seventeen stared up at him, his cheeks flushed from the cold and his arms full of rolled newspapers. His oversized coat hung awkwardly on his skinny frame, and his breath came in little white puffs. 

“Mr.Yeonjun!” the boy said brightly, his voice breaking through the quiet night. Yeonjun recognized him as the oldest Huening son, Kai. A paper boy for all of the village. Why he was delivering Papers this late at night was beyond Yeonjun. 

“What are you doing here?” Yeonjun said sharply, glancing past the boy to the empty forest path. “You’re supposed to leave the paper on the doorstep.” 

Kai shifted on his feet, suddenly nervous under Yeonjun’s glare. “I—I know. But I wanted to see you.” 

“Why?” Was all Yeonjun said, not in the mood for a long winded conversation at this hour. 

Kai’s face lit up, his nervousness replaced with eager determination. “I’ve seen you. In the woods. Shooting your bow. You’re amazing! No one in the village can shoot like you can.” He took a step closer, his wide eyes shining with admiration. “Will you teach me?” The light from the cabin illuminated the boy's features, catching the stark blonde of his hair and his boyish features. Although Yeonjun was only a few years older than the boy he had felt far more wise beyond his years. Kai was comparable to a..well a child in Yeonjun’s eyes. 

Yeonjun stared at him, the boy’s words settling like an unwelcome weight in his chest. “No,” he said bluntly. 

​​Kai’s  face fell, but he pressed on. “Please, I’ll work for it! I can help with chores, or—” 

“You don’t understand,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low and hard. “I don’t have time to waste teaching some kid how to shoot arrows.”

Kai flinched, but he held his ground. “I—I could learn fast,” he stammered. “I swear I’d—”

“Go home,” Yeonjun snapped, his hand tightening on the door. “It’s late. You shouldn’t even be out here.” Kai hesitated, but he finally nodded. Yeonjun shut the door without another word. He leaned against it for a moment, exhaling slowly as Kai’s footsteps faded down the path.

The room felt colder now, the fire’s warmth unable to reach him. He shook his head and went back to his chair, picking up the knife again. He didn’t need anyone else relying on him. He didn’t need one more thing to care about. Everyone who had ever mattered to him was gone. Kai didn’t understand what he was asking for. Yeonjun couldn’t be a mentor, a teacher, a protector. He wouldn’t risk letting someone else into his life—just to lose them too. The paper still sat on the doorstep, forgotten in the cold. 

The grand hall of the castle was an entirely different world from the forest Yeonjun knew so well. The air was thick with the scent of roasted meats, spiced wine, and perfumes far too sweet for his liking. Chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceiling, their flickering candlelight casting golden hues over the polished floors and the opulent tapestries lining the walls.Yeonjun had never set foot in the castle before. Being surrounded by so many nobles who shot him noticeable looks of disdain was something he would never get used to, even as the hours ticked by. 

Yeonjun moved silently through the crowd, a tray of roasted duck balanced on one hand. His dark tunic and dress pants, provided by the castle staff, were a poor attempt at blending in. He still felt like a wolf among peacocks. The nobility barely noticed him as he passed, save for the occasional stare, their laughter and chatter a dull hum in his ears.“Keep moving,” Beomgyu muttered as he brushed past with a tray of wine-filled glasses. “And don’t glare at everyone. You’ll scare off the coin.” 

Yeonjun grunted but said nothing, his focus on his task. He hated the castle, hated the hollow grandeur of it all. The villagers whispered about the luxury the royals lived in, and now, seeing it up close, Yeonjun understood why they seethed with resentment. “Ladies and gentlemen!” a booming voice called, silencing the room. The herald stepped forward, his red and gold uniform gleaming in the light. “May I present her royal highness, Our very own Princess. Daughter of The King and Queen!”  

Yeonjun froze.

The crowd turned toward the sweeping staircase, where she appeared, her head held high, her movements graceful and deliberate. She wore a gown of shimmering silver, the fabric catching the light like starlight on water. But it wasn’t the dress that made his chest tighten. Stopping in his tracks in the middle of the dance floor. 

It was her hair.

Pink. 

His breath caught in his throat as memories of the woods flooded back—the girl in the cloak, her bold words, her curiosity. He had thought of her endlessly since that night, but he’d never expected this. She descended the staircase slowly, her expression serene, but Yeonjun caught the brief flicker of nerves in her eyes. She scanned the room, her gaze brushing over the sea of faces, until it landed on him. Her steps faltered, just barely, and only for a mere second. It had gone unnoticed by everyone but him. He knew the look in her eye matched his own. 

Yeonjun saw the recognition in her widened eyes, the way her lips parted as though she might speak. But then she blinked, regaining her composure. Her gaze slid away as though nothing had happened, and she continued her descent. His grip on the tray tightened, his heart pounding in his chest. He had vowed not to see her again, and yet here she was, standing among the very people he resented most. He wasn’t sure what the feeling in his chest was. Resentment? Anger? A little bit of pity? Really he shouldn't be surprised that she didn't tell him who she was the night in the woods but still..Yeonjun felt like a fool. 

The evening wore on, the ball unfolding in a haze of music and laughter. Yeonjun moved through the crowd, refilling glasses and delivering trays of food. But his attention was drawn to her, no matter how hard he tried to focus on his work. She danced with suitors, her gown flowing around her like liquid light. She smiled at them, laughed at their jokes, but Yeonjun saw the tension in her posture, the way her smile never quite reached her eyes. He had only known her a short while and still he knew the true feeling behind her faux smile. How had no one noticed how much she hated this? How did the King and Queen not? Or did they just not care?

Despite the distance between them, she noticed him too. Their eyes met across the room again and again—when he passed by with a tray of wine, when she lingered near the edge of the dance floor. Each time, her gaze lingered a moment too long before she looked away. Yeonjun felt fear that someone would notice, someone who would think that there was more there than what led on. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t want to see her. By the time the night began to wane, Yeonjun was certain of one thing: the princess was just as out of place here as he was. 

As the night went on the small glances toward each other had become too much for Yeonjun to bear. The need for food and drink was starting to die down as the nobles became more intoxicated, sticking to their silly little dances and belly laughing conversations. He decided excusing himself to go outside for fresh air was the best thing for him. The cool night air was a welcome reprieve from the stifling ballroom. Yeonjun leaned against the stone balustrade of the castle balcony, the distant sound of music and laughter muffled by the heavy doors behind him. Above, the sky stretched endlessly, stars scattered like flecks of silver against the inky black. 

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his dark hair. This was a mistake—coming here, taking this job. Seeing her. He knew even being near the castle would bring him trouble. He knew he hated royals for a reason. The door creaked open behind him, the soft rustle of fabric giving her away before she even spoke. Yeonjun closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose. He looked around at his surroundings. “Shouldn’t you be inside, Your Highness?” he said without turning around to look at her. 

“I could say the same about you,” she replied, her voice carrying that same mix of curiosity and defiance he remembered from the woods. Yeonjun turned, his arms crossed. She stood just a few feet away, the silver gown catching the faint light like moonbeams on water. Her pink hair spilled over her shoulders, and she looked more like a dream than a person. A dangerous dream. “You shouldn’t be out here,” he said flatly. “Someone might see us.” 

“I don’t care,” she said, stepping closer, teetering on a thin line close to danger. 

“Well, I do,” he shot back. “If anyone gets the wrong idea—” 

“Let them,” she interrupted. Her gaze was steady, unwavering. “I wanted to talk to you.” 

​​Yeonjun sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“There is,” she insisted. “I—I wanted to explain.”

“Explain what?” He gestured toward her, his voice dropping. “That you’re a princess and I’m just some cursed hunter? That we shouldn’t even be in the same room together?” Her eyes knit together at the word cursed, it had given Yeonjun a small sprinkling of foolish hope that she hadn’t heard about him, and what people whispered about him and his family. 

Her cheeks flushed, but she didn’t back down. “You’re angry.” Her cheeks flush from the cold. If it weren't for the circumstances Yeonjun would have thought it to be cute. 

“I’m not angry,” Yeonjun said sharply. “I’m realistic. You shouldn’t be here, and I definitely shouldn’t be here with you.” 

She stepped closer, her voice softening. “Why not? Because I’m a princess?” Her pink hair framing her face in the most delicate way. 

“Yes!” he snapped, his eyes narrowing. “Because you’re a princess. And if anyone sees us out here, I’ll be the one paying for it, not you.” 

She hesitated, but only for a moment. “You’re right. I am a princess. And all night, I’ve had to smile and pretend that everything’s fine. That I’m perfectly happy dancing with men who don’t know a thing about me. But I saw you, and for a moment, I felt…” Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat. They were definitely inching towards a very dangerous game, one he didn't want to play. 

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Yeonjun interrupted, his voice low. He couldn't hear her say it. 

“Why?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Because you’ll be tempted to feel something too?” 

He scoffed, looking away. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Unable to look her in the eye. 

“Oh, I think I’m right,” she said, a spark of mischief lighting her eyes. She smiled, and for a moment, the tension in his chest tightened. 

“You don’t understand,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I don’t want…” He trailed off, his hands clenching into fists. 

“Don’t want what?” she pressed gently, not that she had to press much. Yeonjun would soon turn to a pile of mush for her if she needed him to.  

“I don’t want my head to end up on a stake,” he said bluntly, turning back to her. “All because you’re having some sort of quarter-life crisis.” 

Her mouth opened in surprise, then closed again as she narrowed her eyes at him. “You’re infuriating,” she muttered. 

And you’re reckless,” he shot back. 

She tilted her head, studying him. “Is that why you keep looking at me? Because you think I’m reckless?” 

“I’m not interested in falling in love,” he said firmly, ignoring her question. 

The words seemed to land heavier than he intended. For the first time, her confidence faltered, her expression softening. “You’re lying,” she said quietly. The look on her face hurt Yeonjun more than he would like to admit. 

“Think whatever you want,” he said, stepping back toward the door. “But nothing good can come of this. Go inside, Your Highness. Your kingdom’s waiting.”

“What’s your name?” She asked with a whisper. “Please grant me that.” Her voice pleading was soft enough to melt his heart. 

“Choi Yeonjun, my name is Choi Yeonjun, and I'm sorry.” Before she could respond, he slipped back into the ballroom, leaving her standing alone on the balcony beneath the stars. 

The days following the ball were restless. You went through the motions of royal life—meals with your parents, lessons on etiquette, the endless parade of suitors vying for your hand. But none of it could hold your attention. You couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Yeonjun. 

His name was an anchor, tethering you to something real in a world that felt increasingly false. Every glance exchanged at the ball, every word spoken in the woods, played on a loop in your mind. By the third night, you couldn’t take it anymore. You knew the risks, but the yearning to see him again was stronger than your fear. As the castle sank into sleep, you enlisted the help of your nursemaid, the one person who had ever shown you an ounce of warmth. 

“She’ll kill me for this,” she muttered, bundling you into a heavy cloak. “But I’ll not have you looking like a caged bird any longer. Be back before dawn, child.” With her help, you slipped past the guards, past the watchful eyes of the palace, and into the night. The forest was alive with the sounds of crickets and the rustle of leaves in the wind. It guided you, just as it had the night before, to the clearing where you had first seen him. The path there was more grueling than you remembered, probably due to the anticipation of seeing him again. 

There he was. Yeonjun stood in the moonlight, his bow drawn, the string taut as he aimed at a crude target pinned to a tree. He let the arrow fly, and it struck true, embedding itself with a satisfying thunk. You stepped forward, the forest floor damp beneath your boots. “Impressive as always.” 

He spun around, his hand already reaching for another arrow. But this time, he didn’t nock it. His shoulders stiffened as he recognized you, and his brow furrowed in frustration. “Princess,” he said sharply, his voice low but tinged with anger. “What are you doing here?” 

“I came to see you,” you said, as calmly as you could manage, the rapid beating of your heart against your ribcage a testament to what you actually felt. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” Yeonjun hissed, stepping closer. His eyes were dark, and the tension in his frame reminded you of a coiled spring. “Do you have any idea what could happen if someone found out?” 

“I don’t care,” you replied, lifting your chin. “I had to come.” You could admit that you were being incredibly stubborn but you didn’t care. This was something you had to do. 

He shook his head, his jaw tight. “Go home, Your Highness. Now.” 

“No.” The single word hung in the air between you, and the silence stretched until it was broken by the first raindrop splashing onto the ground. The cold finally sets into your bones and sends a shiver up your spine. You wrapped your cloak closer around your body not letting the droplets of rain sway you. 

Yeonjun looked up at the sky, his expression darkening. “It’s going to pour. You need to leave.” 

“And leave a lady out in the rain? How very gallant of you,” you said, unable to resist the jab. You weren’t above a bit of manipulation. 

He muttered something under his breath before sighing deeply. “Fine. But only until the rain stops.” He turns without another word leading you down a small path. Your footsteps light as you follow closely behind him. The rain picked up in an instant pelting you in only the short walk to the cabin. 

The cabin looked cozy enough, nothing grand but you loved it. It felt intimate and new. You fought a small smile as you overlooked the dark wood, this is where Yeonjun lived. He opened the door without a word gesturing for you to go inside. 

The cabin was warm, the fire crackling in the fireplace as you stepped inside. Yeonjun shut the door behind you, his movements tense. He didn’t speak as he grabbed a blanket and thrust it toward you. “Dry off,” he said curtly. 

You took it, sitting down in the lone chair by the fire. The silence stretched between you, heavy and unspoken. “You’re angry,” you said finally. 

“Of course I’m angry,” he said, his tone clipped. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? If someone finds out—” 

“I’m careful,” you interrupted. “No one followed me. Kora made sure of that.” 

“That’s not the point,” he said, pacing now. “You don’t belong here, and I don’t belong in your world. Whatever this is—” He gestured between you. “It needs to stop.” 

“Why?” you asked, standing. “Because you’re scared?” Throwing the blanket he had given to you onto the chair. 

“I’m not scared,” he shot back. 

“Yes, you are,” you said, stepping closer. “You’re scared to feel something, scared to let someone in. But I see it, Yeonjun. You’re not as closed off as you pretend to be.” 

He froze, his eyes narrowing. “You don’t know me. 

“Then tell me,” you said, your voice softening. “Tell me about your life. Let me understand.” 

“You're making this difficult.” He said looking over at you, his eyes tired. His eyes caught the dark specs beautifully. Although only a few years older than you, you could tell he loved a much longer life. Had to endure things you've never even dreamed of, it aged him. 

“Why? Because I’m here?” You were not going to let this go. 

“Because you don’t belong here,” he snapped, finally meeting your gaze. “You have no idea what this world is like, what it costs.” 

You hesitated before speaking. “Then tell me. Show me what it’s like.” You pleaded again. 

His laugh was bitter, hollow. “What’s the point? You’ll go back to your castle and forget all about it.” 

“I won’t,” you said firmly. “I promise.” 

Yeonjun hesitated, the fight in him faltering as he sank onto the bench across from you. The firelight danced across his face. For a moment his vulnerability painted him as a young boy, one who suffered great loss. “My family,” he began, his voice quiet, “used to live in a village not far from here. My parents, my sister, and me. We didn’t have much, but we were happy. Then the fever came.” You didn’t dare interrupt, your chest tightening as you watched him. “They died within weeks of each other,” he said, staring into the flames. “One by one. And I… I couldn’t save them. Couldn’t do anything.” 

“Yeonjun,” you whispered, your heart aching for him.

“I’ve been on my own ever since,” he said, his voice hardening. “It’s better that way. No one else to lose. The fever hit many families but a lot of them survived. Mine did not. They call me cursed and…I started to believe I am.” 

You leaned forward, your hands gripping the edge of the chair. “But you had something beautiful once, something most people never get—a family that loved each other. I’d give anything to have had that.” He frowned, his gaze flickering to you. 

“My parents… they care about power, appearances,” you said bitterly. “I’ve never been more than a pawn to them. I used to dream of having a family like yours, people who loved me for me. Even if I lost them, at least I’d have had it for a little while.” 

Yeonjun’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t look away. “You still have a chance to love,” you said softly. “To let people in again.” 

He shook his head. “You don’t understand. Everyone I love… they die. It’s like I’m cursed.” You sat across from him, your hands folded tightly in your lap to keep them from trembling. You hadn’t anticipated how deeply his words would cut not because they hurt you, but because they made you ache for him. 

“You loved them,” you said softly, breaking the silence. 

He didn’t look at you, but his jaw tightened. “Of course I did.” 

“And they loved you,” you continued. “That’s why it hurts so much, isn’t it?”

His gaze flicked to you then, sharp and guarded. “What’s your point?” 

“That love isn’t a curse,Yeonjun,” you said, leaning forward. “It’s a gift. Even if it’s fleeting, even if it’s painful when it’s gone, it’s still worth having.” 

His laugh was bitter, a low sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Easy for you to say. You’ve never lost everything.” 

You hesitated, your chest tightening. “You’re right. I haven’t. But I’ve never had what you had, either.” 

Your voice trembled. “I used to dream about having a family like yours. A mother who held me when I cried, a father who wasn’t so… cold. Even if it didn’t last forever, at least I would have known what it felt like to be truly loved.” You said again. Yeonjun’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours as though he was seeing you for the first time. 

“That’s why I came here,” you said. “Not just to get away from them, but because you made me feel something real. For once, I wasn’t just a princess. I was… me.” 

He looked away, his fingers running along the edge of his bow. “You shouldn’t have come back. You’re playing with fire, and you don’t even realize it.” 

“Maybe I do,” you said quietly. 

He shook his head. “This—whatever this is—it can’t happen. You and I are from different worlds. There’s nothing but heartbreak waiting down this road.” 

“I’m willing to take that chance,” you said, standing and crossing the room to him. And you were telling the truth. You had never truly felt love, so even if fleeting you’d kill to feel it just once. You didn't know what the future held for the two of you but you knew you were capable of loving Yeonjun, for however long the universe would allow it. 

He looked up at you, his dark eyes conflicted. “You shouldn’t be.” 

“Why not?” you challenged. “Because you’re afraid? Or because you think you’re not worth it?” 

The question hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. Then, slowly, you reached out and rested your hand on his. His fingers tensed beneath yours, but he didn’t pull away. Your heart thumped loudly in your chest. 

“Yeonjun,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let someone in. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching. When he opened them again, the raw vulnerability in his gaze stole yours. 

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

“I know exactly what I’m asking,” you said, leaning closer. 

Your heart pounded as you searched his face, waiting, hoping. And then, slowly, he lifted a hand to your cheek, his fingers brushing against your skin. “I shouldn’t…” he murmured, but the words trailed off as his gaze dropped to your lips. 

“You should,” you whispered. And then he kissed you. 

It was tentative at first, a soft, testing press of his lips against yours. But the hesitation didn’t last long. The tension that had crackled between you from the moment you met ignited, and the kiss deepened, pulling you into its heat. His hand slid to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilted your head to deepen the connection. His other hand rested on your waist, steadying you as your knees threatened to buckle beneath the intensity of it. 

You felt everything in that kiss, his pain, his longing, his fear, and you poured your own emotions into it, trying to tell him without words that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to push you away. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breaths ragged. Neither of you spoke for a long moment, the sound of the rain outside mingling with the crackle of the fire. 

“This is a mistake,” he said finally, his voice barely audible. 

“Then let it be my mistake,” you said, your voice trembling. “But don’t push me away because you’re scared.” 

His eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw the cracks in his armor, the pieces of himself he had tried so hard to keep hidden. He didn’t move away. If anything, Yeonjun seemed frozen, his fingers still tangled in your hair, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your hand where it rested against his chest, matching the wild rhythm of your own.

Then, as if something inside him broke free, he pulled you closer. His lips found yours again, no longer tentative but fierce, like he was trying to pour every unspoken word, every buried feeling, into the kiss. You melted against him, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders, anchoring yourself as the world seemed to spin away. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened, heat building between you like the fire crackling in the fireplace. 

Every touch, every movement, felt like a revelation. The roughness of his fingers on your skin, the way he tilted his head to take the kiss deeper, the quiet, almost desperate sound he made when your hands slipped up to cradle his face—it was all overwhelming and intoxicating and completely consuming. When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless. Yeonjun rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as if he was trying to steady himself. His hand remained on your waist, his thumb brushing idly against the fabric of your cloak.

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me,” he murmured, his voice rough and low. 

“I think I do,” you whispered, your own voice shaky. A sense of unfamiliar excitement pooling in your belly. 

“You don’t understand what you’re getting into.” He breathed out. 

“Then explain it to me,” you said, your tone soft but insistent. 

He hesitated, his eyes flicking down to your lips again as though he couldn’t help himself. Instead of answering, he kissed you again. 

This time, it was slower, softer. It wasn’t born of desperation but something deeper, something quieter. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache, his hands cradling you like you were something fragile. You lost yourself in it, the world outside the cabin falling away. There was only Yeonjun. The taste of him, the warmth of his touch, the quiet strength in the way he held you. 

When he pulled back again, his lips barely brushing against yours, he rested his forehead against yours once more. “This can’t last,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Maybe it doesn’t have to,” you replied, your fingers threading through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Maybe we just let it be what it is, for however long we have.” 

His eyes opened, and the vulnerability there was almost too much to bear. “You’re going to ruin me, princess,” he said softly.

“Then let me ruin you,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss him again. This time, he didn’t hesitate. The kiss was more hurried, rushed and sloppy. 

“I don’t know if I can hold myself back.” He spoke with a huff. 

“Don’t.” Was all you said as you toyed with the collar of his shirt. “Don’t hold back, I want this.” 

“Have you ever done..anything before?” The question left an embarrassing red tint to your cheeks. Of course you hadn’t. This had been your first kiss. 

“No.” Your voice a whisper as you hide your blush with your hair. 

“Are you sure you want this?” His voice was firm as he gripped your hips firmly in his hand, almost like he was grounding himself. As if it was taking everything in him to not pounce on you this very moment. 

“Please.” You spoke with a newfound desperation. “I’m sure.” 

His lips attached to your neck next. It was tender and soft. The delicacy he used only quickened the speed of your already rapidly beating heart. His hands found the sleeve of your dress before slowly bringing it down your shoulder and your arm. The light from the fireplace is a catalyst to your warmth. The light illuminated the two of you like starlight. His lips moved the expanse of your neck and met your collarbone in feather-like kisses. 

“You're beautiful.” He whispered, moving your hair back. 

“Can I take this off?” Your voice was hushed with a lit of intimidation hanging in the words. You gestured to his white shirt pawing at the buttons. 

“Of course.” His smile was warm, comforting. You made quick work of unbuttoning the buttons yanking his shirt off in one fail swoop. You took your time inspecting the contours of his chest and torso. In awe of his sheer beauty. He was young, toned, and beautiful. Your fingers delicately danced around his body taking mental pictures. 

“Like what you see?” He smirks at you, a tilt to his lips you found incredibly adorable. 

“Yes.” You said simply with a shrug, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Can I take this off?” His hands toy with the dress you wore. It wasn't a big puffy dress like you would wear on a normal day. It was flat and required no corset, no zipper. It simply slipped off. A surge of confidence rushed through you and you figured you'd take hold of it before it washed away. 

You pushed Yeonjun back against the plush couch. His back connected with the cushion behind him. His face lit up with an adorable surprise. “What are you-” 

“Shh” You smiled playfully. You rose from your seat now standing directly in front of him. You reached your hands to your sleeves pulling them down slowly. 

Yeonjun smiled, resting his hands behind his head before sending you a mock bow of approval. “Suit yourself, your highness.” 

“Shut up.” You giggle shyly pulling the rest of the dress down until the fabric meets the floor in a pile. 

“Absolutely beautiful.” He said with an unashamed look in his eye. You stood bare in front of him now, only panties and nothing else. No bra to hold in your breasts. You had never been so exposed. You reached down, riding yourself of the last of your clothing. 

You had never been naked in front of a man before. Oddly you weren't nervous with Yeonjun, you felt content, you felt reassured. 

“Come here.” Yeonjun’s voice was rough and almost hoarse, it was incredibly sexy. 

You sat before him, completely naked but full trusting. “I’m going to prep you first okay Princess?” 

You nodded dumbly as he carefully laid you down on the sofa falling to his knees in front of you. “Tell me if you want to stop at any point and I will. Am I clear?” You nodded again, finding it hard to muster up words when he was looking at you like that. 

“Use your words sweetheart.” 

“Yes.” The one word like a green light to Yeonjun. His mouth falling to be level with your core. You watched with keen fascination as his breath fanned the most intimate part of you. His tongue licked up one strip causing a gasp to leave your lips. Your hips lifting from the couch in surprise. His growl of disapproval sent shivers down your spine as his hands firmly pressed your hips back down onto the couch. 

His mouth reattached to your slit lapping and licking at the sensitive bud. “Oh-” You whined your mouth involuntarily curling into an ‘O’ shape. 

His eyes searched for yours wildly, a desire for approval in his gaze. “How’s that feel?” He asked coming up for a breath. 

“G-good.” You stuttered out. “More..” 

“Greedy are we Princess?” he quirked a thick brow at you. 

“Mhm..” You moaned unashamed of your clear desperation. His hand lifted ghosting over your entrance, his tongue back to lapping up your juices. 

“Have you ever touched yourself?” 

“W-what?” Your mind was in a daze as his thumb lazily circled your clit, his tongue still ghosting over your entrance. 

“Has this little princess ever touched herself?” His voice was rougher now, more demanding. 

“Y-yes.” You admitted shyly. “Sometimes” 

Yeonjun tsk’d slowly adding a finger into your awaiting entrance, taking it slower so as to not hurt you. 

“My god.” You whispered. 

“Dirty girl..” Yeonjun trailed off, reaching his free hand up to grab onto yours that was clutching the cushion of the couch in your hand. 

“More..” You whined, grinding yourself against Yeonjun’s hand, a desperate moan leaving your lips. 

“I think you're ready.” He pulled his finger out with ease. A hiss of pleasure leaving your lips. 

“Are you ready sweetheart?” His words were gentle as he quickly removed his pants and boxers. The sheer size of him catching you off guard and rendering you near speechless. 

“Words, princess.” His tone held authority, something that had your mind abuzz and your skin ablaze. 

“I’m ready” You panted. Yeonjun carefully crawled over you taking a second to look down at your body, his eyes traveling the expanse of you. “Beautiful.” He said for what seemed like the millionth time tonight. 

He lined his cock at your entrance running the angry red tip up and down your slit a few times, catching the pool of heat in its wake. “I’ll go slow.” 

You nodded desperately waiting for when he would finally be inside of you. 

He pushed in slowly the stretch of him burning like wildfire in your body, a jolt of pain flying up your spine. 

Your gasp rang free throughout the cabin. The sound of the fire crackling in the distance serves as a comfort to you. “Are you okay?” Yeonjun asks when he was finally fully seethed inside of you, unmoving. 

“Yes.” You breathed out. “Just hurts a little.” 

“I can wait to move.” He suggested but you shook your head at the need for him to move out weighing the pain. 

“No. Please move.” 

Yeonjun nodded, pulling his hips back from slowly pushing them back in. His breath hitched in his throat a sigh of content following. “Tight.” He grunted out. 

He continued to slowly push in and out of you with tender precision. Soon you found yourself craving more, faster, harder you needed to feel him completely. 

“Faster.” You whined out. “You can go faster.” 

“Yeah?” He hissed out “Whatever your highness wants.” 

A small smile graced your lips at his playful words. His hips pushed into you fasted the sound of your skin slapping ringing in the air around you. 

“Feels so good.” You moaned. Running your hands down your body, your fingers finding your clit, making small slow circles over the nub. 

“I’m almost there.” Yeonjun panted, his breath fanning over your face. 

“Me too” You whined, feeling your orgasm creeping up on you like a freight train. 

Yeonjun continued his brutal speed, your body moving in tandem with his, taking everything he gave you. Your heart pounding in your chest as you teetered on the edge. 

“I’m coming.” You squeaked out as your orgasm hit you. It blinded you, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. Yeonjun followed suit, his hips rutting into you before stilling. 

The both of you stood still, saying nothing only looking at each other. A bubble of a laugh creeping up in your throat and finally leaving your lips in an eruption. 

Yeonjun’s eyes widened as he watched you laugh, him still deep inside of you. 

“What are you laughing at?” He asked with a look of amused bewilderment. 

“I don't know.” You giggled out. “I’m happy.” 

Yeonjun smiled, a small semblance of smile falling from his lips. “Me too.” 

The rain had stopped by the time you stood at the door of his cabin, your cloak pulled tight around your shoulders. The world outside was silent, save for the occasional drip of water from the trees. Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his figure outlined by the soft glow of the firelight behind him. “You shouldn’t come back,” he said, his voice low and conflicted. Even after what you had just done he was still thinking of what could happen and not what was currently happening. 

You turned to face him, your heart heavy but determined. “You can’t tell me what to do.” 

His lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but the weight of the night kept it from reaching his eyes. You had done irreversible things. Things that could quite frankly get him killed.  “I mean it, princess. It’s too dangerous—for both of us.” 

“And yet you kissed me,” you said softly, stepping closer. “You fucked me.” You continued. 

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. “You’re impossible, you know that?” 

“I’ve heard it before.” You smiled with mischief. 

The faintest trace of a smirk crossed his face, but it faded quickly. “If you’re set on defying all reason, at least let me promise you something.” 

Your brows furrowed as you searched his face. “What?” 

“I’ll write to you,” he said, his voice steady. “I don’t know how, but I’ll find a way to get the letters to you. Just… so you know you’re not alone.” 

Your heart clenched at his words, the tenderness in his tone cutting through the sadness that had been building in your chest. “You’d do that?” 

“For you?” He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. I would.” 

The weight of his promise settled between you, heavy and fragile all at once. You stepped closer, your hand reaching for his. His fingers closed around yours, calloused but warm, grounding you even as the moment felt like it might slip away. The thought of not knowing when you'll see him next wounded you. “I’ll wait for them,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. 

His gaze softened, and for a moment, you saw past the walls he had built around himself. “You’d better.” 

You smiled, a small, bittersweet thing, before tilting your head up to him. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was softer this time, slower, as though he was memorizing the feel of you. You poured everything into that kiss—the unspoken words, the hopes, the promises—and when it ended, his forehead rested against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the cool night air.

“Go,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Before I change my mind.” 

You nodded, stepping back reluctantly, your hand slipping from his. As you turned and started down the path, you glanced over your shoulder to find him still standing in the doorway, his silhouette illuminated by the firelight. And though your heart ached, the promise of his letters gave you a small, stubborn flicker of hope. You’d see him again, you'd make sure of it. 

The morning light streamed through the small window of Yeonjun’s cabin, catching motes of dust that swirled lazily in the air. He sat at the rough-hewn table, a piece of parchment spread before him. His fingers tightened around the quill, ink blotching on the page as he wrestled with the words he needed to say. How did he write to a princess? Especially one who he kissed, one he made love to. One that looked at him like he wasn't a broken man, and made impossible promises feel real? 

Yeonjun groaned, running a hand through his unruly hair. He had spent the better part of the morning trying to figure out how he was supposed to get this letter to her without drawing attention. The thought of a royal guard intercepting it. Of the consequences for both of them—kept him frozen in indecision. A sharp knock at the door startled him, and he quickly folded the letter, tucking it under the edge of a book before standing. His hand instinctively went to the knife on his belt as he opened the door. 

There stood Kai, the paperboy, clutching his satchel and beaming up at him with wide, eager eyes. “Kai,” Yeonjun said, exhaling. “What do you want?” 

“Good morning to you too,” Kai said, undeterred. “I’ve been practicing with the stick bow I made, but it’s not the same as the real thing. You’re the best archer in the village—probably in the kingdom! Teach me.” 

“I told you before, I don’t have time for this,” Yeonjun said, stepping back and starting to close the door.

“Wait!” Kai stuck his foot in the doorway. “What if I do something for you? Like chores or hunting or—” 

Yeonjun stopped, the boy’s words sparking an idea. He narrowed his eyes at Kai. “You deliver papers to the castle, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Kai said, straightening proudly. “Every morning. They don’t let me in, though. Just to the servants’ entrance.” 

Yeonjun hesitated, glancing back toward the folded letter. “If I give you something—something important—could you deliver it discreetly to the princess? Without anyone else knowing?”

Kai blinked, his face scrunching in confusion. “The princess? Why would—” 

“Can you do it or not?” Yeonjun interrupted, his tone firm. 

Kai considered him for a moment, then grinned. “I can do it. But you have to promise to teach me archery.” 

“Fine,” Yeonjun said, grabbing the folded letter and handing it to Kai. “This stays in your satchel until you hand it to her.” 

Kai tucked the letter into his bag and gave Yeonjun a cheeky salute. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Yeonjun watched the boy leave, his heart pounding. He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake. 

Kai trudged up the winding path to the castle’s servant entrance, whistling a tune as the satchel bumped against his hip. The gray stone walls loomed above him, casting long shadows in the morning sun. Despite his usual bravado, his stomach twisted with nerves. Delivering a letter to the princess was risky business, even for a street-savvy paperboy. When he reached the small, iron-banded door tucked away behind the stables, he knocked twice, then twice more, just like the man had told him. A moment later, the door creaked open, and a woman in a plain gray dress peered out. Her sharp eyes softened when she saw him. 

“You must be Kai,” the nursemaid said, her voice low but kind.

“That’s me,” he said, flashing her a grin. “I’ve got the letter.” 

He pulled it from his satchel, holding it up like it was a royal treasure—which, in a way, it was. The nursemaid took it carefully, glancing over her shoulder before tucking it into the folds of her apron. “You’re certain no one saw you?” 

“Course not,” Kai said, puffing out his chest. “I’m good at being sneaky.”

She smiled faintly. “Thank you. The princess will be grateful.” 

Kai tilted his head, curiosity lighting his face. “Why’s the princess getting letters from a huntsman, anyway?” 

The nursemaid’s expression grew stern. “That’s not for you to wonder. Just keep this quiet, understand?” 

“Understood,” Kai said, holding up his hands. The nursemaid nodded, slipping back inside. The door shut with a soft thud, leaving Kai alone with his thoughts. As he walked back toward the village, he couldn’t help but grin. Whatever was going on between the princess and the huntsman, it was far more exciting than delivering papers. 

The grand hall felt stifling, the air heavy with expectation. You sat at the long, polished table, your parents at either end like sentinels of your fate. The man they had brought to meet you sat across from you, his eyes scanning you like a merchant appraising goods. He was handsome in a sharp, cold way, his words polished but hollow. “This is Lord Kang Taehyun.” your father said, his voice booming with authority. “A man of great standing. He’s traveled far to meet you.” 

You forced a tight smile, your hands twisting in your lap beneath the table. “It’s a pleasure, my lord,” you said, your voice strained. 

Lord Taehyun inclined his head, his smile more a calculated gesture than genuine warmth. “The pleasure is mine, Your Highness. I’ve heard much of your beauty and grace, though I see now that words fail to capture the truth.” The flattery felt like acid on your skin. You glanced at your mother, hoping for some reprieve, but her expression was as composed and unreadable as ever.

“You will have much to discuss,” your father said, his tone dismissive. “Taehyun, perhaps you and the princess might take a walk in the gardens.” 

“No,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

Your father’s gaze snapped to you, sharp and unyielding. “What did you say?” His words felt like tiny little prickles in your skin. 

You stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the marble floor. “I said no. I don’t want to walk. I don’t want to… to discuss anything.” This new found confidence surprised not only your father but you as well. The tension in the room thickened, your mother’s eyes narrowing, your father’s face darkening with anger.

“Sit down,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous. You knew he meant business but something in you wouldn't allow for what was about to take place to happen. You were going to fight like hell. 

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “You can’t make me do this.”

Your father rose to his feet, his hands slamming onto the table. “You will do as you’re told. This is not a request—it is your duty.”

“Duty?” you cried, your voice breaking. “Is that all I am to you? A pawn to be traded away?” The words hung in the air like a slap. Your father’s expression turned thunderous, but your mother spoke first, her voice cold and clipped. “That’s enough.” 

You turned on your heel, tears spilling over as you fled the hall, their voices chasing after you. Your feet carried you through the winding corridors of the castle, past servants who quickly looked away, until you reached the sanctuary of your room. Slamming the door shut, you sank to the floor, sobbing into your hands. It felt as though the walls were closing in, every word your parents had said pressing down on your chest. 

You had only tasted a small ounce of freedom but you would do everything in your power to not lose it. The night you spent with Yeonjun was the best night of your life. For the first time in your life you felt real. You had finally felt like someone, seen you as you and not just a pawn in a nobel game. 

You picked yourself up from the floor as the tears still cascaded down your face. Throwing yourself onto your bed letting your mind think of Yeonjun and Yeonjun only. 

The night was silent when the knock came at your window. You rushed to it, your heart leaping when you saw the familiar figure of your nursemaid, Kora She slipped inside, handing you a folded piece of parchment. “It’s from him,” she whispered, a small smile on her lips. He kept his promise. He wrote to you. Your heart soared a prickling of hope bubbling in your chest. With Yeonjun, the world felt just all the more bearable. This tiny piece of paper was a saving grace in the mess that was your life.

Your hands trembled as you took the letter, the sight of his handwriting calming the storm inside you. Once the nursemaid left, you lit a candle and unfolded the parchment, your eyes drinking in the words. 

“Princess,

I hope this finds you well, though I know life in the castle is anything but kind to you. I don’t know what I can offer with my words, but know that I’m thinking of you. I can’t seem to stop. I spent all day at the woods’ edge, wondering if you’d appear again, though I know it’s foolish.

Stay safe. Write back if you can. Just knowing you’re out there—somewhere—makes the world feel less empty. 

Yeonjun.” 

You clutched the letter to your chest, his words filling the cracks in your heart left by the day’s events. Taking a deep breath, you reached for your quill and parchment sitting on your bed eager to write back. 

“Yeonjun, 

Your letter was exactly what I needed tonight. The world here feels so cold, so confining. But your words... They warmed me. I wish I could tell you how much they mean to me, how much you mean to me. You call yourself foolish for waiting by the woods, but I find myself thinking about you just as often.

There are moments I wish I could escape all of this, if only to spend another night in the rain with you. You make me feel free, even when I’m trapped within these walls. I don’t know how long this will last, or what the future holds, but I promise I’ll keep writing as long as you’ll read my words.

Yours Always”

You folded the letter carefully, sealing it with trembling hands. The nursemaid would come again in the morning to deliver it, but for now, you tucked it under your pillow. As you blew out the candle and lay in the darkness, your thoughts drifted to Yeonjun. His voice, his touch, his promise. It was enough to keep the despair at bay, at least for tonight.

The days that followed were a blur of tension and despair. Your father’s booming voice echoed through the halls, issuing orders to increase security, though you didn’t know why. Guards were stationed at nearly every corridor, their cold eyes watching your every move. Even the gardens, once your brief sanctuary, felt like a cage.  

You suspected it was about control. The more you resisted their plans, the tighter they held the reins. Your father rarely spoke to you directly now, preferring to bark commands to your mother or the staff. Your mother, ever the strategist, would sit by your bedside at night, her hands clasped primly in her lap as she spoke of duty and legacy. Her words slid off you like rain on stone. But even in the midst of their suffocating demands, there was Yeonjun. 

His letters arrived like whispers of freedom, tucked beneath your pillow by your nursemaid each morning. The words were simple, but they carried a warmth that broke through the chill of the castle. You read them over and over, tracing the ink with your fingertips until the parchment softened. 

“Princess,

Every day feels longer than the last without you here. I thought I was a man who had learned to live without hope, but you’ve made me realize how much I’ve missed it. The woods are quiet now, but I hear your laugh in the wind and feel your presence in every shadow.

I don’t know how this will end, but I promise I will keep writing to you, as long as you’ll have me. You’re the first thing in a long time that has felt real.

Yeonjun”

His words were a balm to your raw emotions, and you clung to them like a lifeline. They were your secret rebellion, a quiet refusal to let your parents steal the one thing that gave you solace. You don’t know what you would do moving forward but you knew for certain that the thought of a life without Yeonjun became more and more painful, it was something you wouldn't allow to happen. Even if it killed you. So Each night, by the flickering light of a candle, you wrote back to him. 

“Yeonjun,

Your words are the only thing keeping me sane. I feel trapped here—my parents are relentless, the guards omnipresent. Even my own footsteps feel like they’re being watched. But when I read your letters, it’s like I’m back in the woods with you, standing in the rain. For a moment, I’m free again.

I don’t know how I’ll get through this, but knowing you’re out there, thinking of me... it’s enough to keep going. I hope you’ll write to me as often as you can. Your letters are my escape.

Yours always.”

The exchange continued for days. Each morning brought a new letter, and each night you penned your reply. The routine became your lifeline, a fragile thread tying you to something brighter, something more alive. The grueling dinners with your parents, the endless stream of suitors paraded before you—none of it mattered when you knew a letter was waiting under your pillow. Yeonjun’s words reminded you of what it felt like to be seen, truly seen, and not as a piece on your father’s chessboard. You closed your eyes, letting his words settle into your heart. The stars above seemed brighter somehow, as if he were reaching out to you through them.

Your mother always told you that love was not real. That you could never love someone more than you loved yourself but that was a lie. It makes you sad sometimes. When you thought of your mother. Was she once a girl like yourself staying up until the wee hours of the night daydreaming about the possibility of a real love, had she ever felt it? You weren't sure. 

Your fingers itched to write him back, to tell him how much he meant to you, how his letters were the only thing keeping you from breaking beneath the weight of your parents’ demands. But tonight, there were no words strong enough. Instead, you held his letter close and let the quiet night envelop you. For now, his letters were enough. And soon, you would find a way to see him again. 

The morning sun filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood by the edge of the clearing, watching Kai fumble with the bowstring. The boy’s arms trembled under the tension, his grip clumsy as he tried to draw back the arrow. "Not like that," Yeonjun said, stepping forward. He placed a steadying hand on Kai’s shoulder and adjusted his stance, forcing the boy to straighten his back. "You’re holding it like it’s going to bite you. Relax." 

Kai exhaled sharply, his face scrunched in concentration. "This is harder than it looks." His blonde hair blowing in the wind that bristled through the clearing they occupied. 

He watched Kai try again. The boy managed to draw the string back this time, though it wobbled precariously before he loosed the arrow. It sailed a pathetic few feet before flying into the dirt. Kai groaned, slumping in frustration. "I’m never going to get this." 

"You will," Yeonjun said, his voice firmer now. "But not if you give up. Again." The boy looked at him, his brown eyes uncertain, but he nodded. He retrieved the arrow and tried again. And again. And again. 

The days that followed were filled with more of the same. Each morning, Kai would show up at Yeonjun’s door with that wide, determined grin, a bow slung over his back and a bundle of arrows that were too big for his quiver. Yeonjun taught him everything—how to adjust his grip, how to judge the wind, how to stay calm and focused even when the target seemed impossible. At first, Kai was frustratingly bad. His arrows veered wildly off course, his fingers blistered from the bowstring, and his skinny frame seemed ill-suited for the demands of archery. But the boy never gave up. Each time Yeonjun corrected him, Kai listened intently, his determination outmatching his skill. 

One morning, as they rested under a tree after hours of practice, Kai finally opened up. Completely unprovoked. There must have been a lot of things weighing on the boy's mind. "My family’s poor," he said, staring down at the bow in his lap. "My father makes paintings to sell, and my mother does her best, but it’s not enough. My older sister works at the tailor’s, and my little sister’s too young to help. I’m supposed to be the big brother of the house now, The one to look to when Father is at work, but..." He trailed off, his voice cracking. Yeonjun didn’t respond right away, letting the boy gather his thoughts.

"I don’t want to feel useless anymore," Kai continued, his voice quiet but steady. "If I can hunt—if I can bring home food or sell furs—maybe things will get better. Maybe my family won’t have to struggle so much." Yeonjun studied the boy for a long moment. He saw the desperation in Kai’s eyes, the same desperation that had once driven him to the woods all those years ago. He understood too well the weight of carrying a family’s survival on your shoulders, the feeling of always falling short.

"You’re not useless," Yeonjun said finally. His voice was quiet, but there was an edge of warmth in it. "You’re trying. That’s more than most people would do." Kai looked up at him, surprised. 

"And you’re getting better," Yeonjun added, his lips quirking into a small, rare smile. "You actually hit the target today. Granted, it was the edge, but it counts." Kai laughed, a sound that was bright and unguarded. For a moment, Yeonjun felt something he hadn’t in years—a faint, flickering sense of hope. He had seen a lot of himself in kai. He too was seventeen trying to make ends meet while also growing and learning. He reminded himself to give the boy some reprieve, he was doing what most people in this village were doing. Trying to make it. 

It was a week later when Yeonjun made the decision. They had finished another grueling day of practice, and Kai was leaning against a tree, his face flushed with exhaustion but glowing with pride. He had hit the bullseye twice that morning, a feat that had him grinning ear to ear. Yeonjun walked over to his small cabin and retrieved the bow that hung on the wall. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its gold accents catching the light like fire. He had carved it himself years ago, imbuing every stroke with a sense of purpose and pride. It was his favorite bow, his most prized possession. 

He walked back to Kai, who was packing up his own battered bow. Without a word, Yeonjun held out the golden bow to him. It was a present that he had cherished from his father. He had given it to him early in his life when Yeonjun took interest in archery, and now he was giving it to Kai. 

Kai stared at it, his eyes wide. "Is that...?" 

"It’s yours," Yeonjun said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He knew he was deserving, Kai was going to grow up to be an amazing huntsman, maybe even better then Yeonjun. Yeonjun was sure of it. 

The boy gaped at him, his hands hovering uncertainly over the bow. "But... this is your favorite. I can’t—" 

"You can," Yeonjun interrupted. "And you will. You’ve earned it." 

Kai’s hands trembled as he took the bow, his fingers tracing the smooth curves and intricate carvings. "I don’t know what to say," he whispered. 

"Say you’ll keep practicing," Yeonjun said, his voice softer now. "Say you’ll use it to help your family. That’s all I want." 

Kai nodded, his eyes shimmering with emotion. "I will. I promise." 

“Good.” Yeonjun smiled a hand on the boy's shoulder. “Now head home it's getting late.” 

The castle had become unbearable. Every corridor felt like a gauntlet, every shadow a trap. Guards patrolled relentlessly, their footsteps echoing like a drumbeat of oppression. Your father’s anger was a constant storm, and your mother’s calculated words were no less cutting. Everyday a battle for your freedom. Your father would not budge, his demands becoming more cold and less patient. The looming specter of the marriage broke you. The man they had chosen—a stranger from across the sea—was everything you feared. Another piece in their endless political game. You didn’t want to be a pawn, but they weren’t giving you a choice. That night, as the moon rose high above the castle, you made your decision to see Yeonjun again, no matter the beefy guards.

You slipped into the gown you had worn earlier, pulling your dark cloak tightly around you. With a deep breath, you tiptoed past the guards stationed outside your chamber. The halls seemed endless, the flicker of torches casting long, wavering shadows. Every creak of the floorboards felt deafening, every glance from a passing servant a threat. But somehow, you made it. Past the gates, past the patrols, and into the forest that had become your sanctuary. 

The knock on his door was hesitant at first, your courage wavering as you stood in the cool night air. The woods were quiet, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the wind. You wondered if he would even answer, if he was still awake. But then the door creaked open, and there he was. 

Yeonjun stood in the doorway, his expression shifting from surprise to concern the moment he saw you, calling your name in confusion. You were the last person he expected to see tonight. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words caught in your throat. The weight of the past days pressed down on you, and before you could stop yourself, tears spilled down your cheeks. 

His brows knit together, and he stepped aside, gesturing for you to come in. "What’s wrong?" You stepped inside, the warmth of his cabin wrapping around you like a blanket. It smelled of wood and the faint, earthy scent of leather. He closed the door behind you, his gaze never leaving your face. 

"They’re marrying me off," you finally managed, your voice trembling. "To a man I’ve never met. A man I don’t want." 

Yeonjun’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists at his sides. "When?"

"I don’t know," you whispered, sinking onto the edge of the small cot in the corner. "Soon. My father is furious. My mother says it’s for the good of the kingdom. But I..." You shook your head, burying your face in your hands. The weight of what your parents were doing finally settled in. A moment later, you felt the bed shift as he sat beside you. His presence was solid, grounding, and when his hand hesitantly rested on your back, it was as if a dam broke inside you.

"I can’t do it," you said, your voice muffled. "I can’t live like this. I don’t want to be a pawn in their games. I just... I just want to be free." 

Yeonjun was silent for a long moment, his hand tracing soothing circles on your back. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady. "We’ll figure it out. I don’t know how yet, but we will." 

You looked up at him, your tear-streaked face meeting his determined gaze. "How can you say that? You don’t even know what they’re capable of." 

"I don’t have to know," he said, his tone firm. "I know you. And I know you’re stronger than you think." 

His words were like a spark in the darkness, a flicker of hope that refused to be snuffed out. You searched his face, finding no hesitation, no doubt. Just him—solid, unyielding, and somehow, impossibly, yours. A beautiful man, who had cared for you. Who has seen more of you than anyone before. A man you were falling for, and hard. Before you could think better of it, you leaned forward, your hands gripping the front of his shirt. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t pull away. 

"Tell me you mean it," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Tell me this isn’t just a dream." You didn’t care if you sounded silly and childish. This was the equivalent to whispering pinch me i’m dreaming but it didn't matter, you needed to hear it. 

His hands came up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that clung to your skin. "It’s real," he murmured. "I promise you, it’s real." And then his lips were on yours. 

His hands moved to the small of your back, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair. The world outside faded away, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours. The kiss was sweet but heated like you were catching up on lost time. You had missed his touch only feeling the ghost of him in his letters. 

His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, a language only the two of you could understand. "You should go back," he said eventually, though his arms didn’t loosen their hold.

"I don’t want to," you whispered. 

His lips brushed your temple in the lightest of touches. "I’ll find a way to see you again. I promise."

And somehow, you believed him. There was no way you’d be marrying a man you didn't love, not a single chance. 

The castle was quiet when you slipped back through the hidden servant’s entrance. Your heart pounded with every step, the weight of the evening still clinging to you like a second skin. The cool stone walls of the passage pressed in, amplifying the sound of your footsteps.When you turned the corner into your room, your nursemaid, Kora, was waiting. Her arms were crossed, and her lips were set in a thin line, but her eyes betrayed her worry more than her anger ever could. 

"You’re lucky the patrols didn’t catch you," she said, her voice low but sharp. You had seen her angry before and this was not one of those times, she looked more worried than anything and strangely it made you feel warm. 

You closed the door softly behind you and let out a shaky breath. "I needed to go."

Her expression softened at the sound of your voice, her stern demeanor melting into concern. "Child, what are you doing to yourself?" You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you pulled off your cloak and sank onto the edge of your bed, your fingers clutching the fabric tightly. The weight of her gaze made it impossible to avoid the question, so you finally looked up. 

"I love him," you admitted, the words trembling as they left your lips.

Your nursemaid’s eyes widened slightly, and she let out a soft sigh as she sat beside you. She reached for your hand, her grip warm and steady. "You’ve always had such a stubborn heart," she said, a faint smile playing at her lips. 

"I can’t help it," you said, your voice breaking. "I don’t want this life anymore. I don’t want the titles, the suitors, the ballrooms. I just want... I just want to be free. With him." Tears welled in your eyes again, and before you could stop yourself, they spilled over. "I can’t do this, not without him. I want to run away, leave it all behind."

Your nursemaid pulled you into her arms, holding you close as your tears soaked into her shoulder. She smelled of lavender and the faint, comforting scent of home. "I understand," she murmured, her voice gentle. "But you must be careful, my love. The world isn’t kind to people like us who dream beyond our station." You had never really felt a mother’s love before, not in the way you had longed for. The closest you ever gotten was with Kora. Not only was she your nursemaid but your mother figure. She was nurturing, caring, compassionate like a mother should be. But she was also stern and would tell you exactly what you needed to hear, even if you didn't want to hear it. You had loved her like a mother. 

You pulled back slightly, your face still damp with tears. "You’ve always been there for me," you said, your voice trembling. "When my own mother didn’t care—when she looked at me like I was just another duty to fulfill—you loved me. You raised me. You’ve been the only real mother I’ve ever known." 

Her own eyes glistened now, and she cupped your face in her hands. "You’ve been my joy since the day you were born. I wanted to shield you from all of this. If I could give you the freedom you want, I would. You deserve to be happy, my dear. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you." The words had felt like another crack in the crippling foundation of your heart. Soon you would overflow then explode with the constant raging emotions inside of you and you were sure when that happened Kora would be right there, helping you every step of the way no matter what decision you decided to make. Admitting to her out loud that you had loved Yeonjun changed something inside of you. 

"I don’t know what I’d do without you," you said, your voice cracking. 

She kissed your forehead, her touch light and filled with affection. "You’ll always have me. But promise me you’ll be careful. If you love him as much as you say, don’t let that love make you reckless. It’s a dangerous world, and I won’t see you hurt."

You nodded, a fresh wave of tears streaming down your face. "I promise." 

The two of you sat there for a long while, her arms wrapped around you like a shield against the storm outside. For the first time in days, you felt a glimmer of peace. Moments like this had made you mourn a relationship you never had with your own mother. 

"I love you," you whispered. 

"And I love you," she replied, her voice soft and steady. "More than you’ll ever know." 

​​You fell asleep that night with her words echoing in your mind, the warmth of her embrace still lingering into the morning when you awoke again and she was gone, a blanket thrown over your body like a last single trace of her. 

The morning sunlight filtered through the trees as Yeonjun stood in the clearing behind his cabin, his bow slung across his back. Kai was already there, eagerly stringing the bow Yeonjun had given him. His tongue poked out in concentration, and the boy’s scrawny arms strained slightly as he drew it back. "Focus on your breath," Yeonjun instructed, leaning against a tree. "Pull smoothly, don’t yank it. Let the bow do the work."

Kai nodded, exhaling slowly before releasing the arrow. It sailed through the air, wobbling slightly before it struck the edge of the target. Not dead center, but better than it had been just days ago. "Yes!" Kai exclaimed, pumping his fist. 

Yeonjun couldn’t help but smile. "Not bad. You might not be completely hopeless after all." 

Kai grinned, his face lighting up with pride. It was very.. Boyish almost. It reminded Yeonjun so much of who he used to be. He reached for another arrow, his excitement infectious. As he prepared to shoot again, he glanced over at Yeonjun. "You know, my parents were really proud of me last night."

Yeonjun raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What’d you do to deserve that?"

"I caught my first rabbit," Kai said, his voice swelling with pride. "With this bow. My parents sold it at the market, and we made enough money to buy bread and meat for the week. My sisters were so happy. My mom even cried." 

Yeonjun’s chest tightened at the boy’s words, a strange mix of pride and longing settling there. "Good work, Kai. You earned that." He had the most perfect prodigy of himself. Someone he knew had the potential to be a great hunter and an even better archer than Yeonjun had ever been. 

Kai beamed, his cheeks flushing slightly. "It’s because you taught me. If it weren’t for you—"

"Stop," Yeonjun interrupted, though his tone was gentle. "You put in the effort. I just showed you how." 

Kai hesitated, then said softly, "I just wanted to say thank you. For the bow, for the lessons... for everything." Looking down at the ground to hide his reddened cheeks, kicking at the dirt beneath his feet almost bashfully. 

Yeonjun looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "Don’t get all sentimental on me. You’ll ruin my reputation." He said with a laugh. The joke hanging in the air between the two of them. 

Kai laughed, but his expression quickly turned serious. "You’re not as mean as everyone says, you know. You’re actually... really kind."

Yeonjun snorted. "Don’t spread that around. I’ve worked hard to keep people away, and I’d rather not ruin a good thing."

"But why?" Kai asked, tilting his head. "You’re not scary. You’re..." He trailed off, searching for the right words. 

"Cursed?" Yeonjun offered dryly.

Kai shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "Maybe." Yeonjun smiled at his Joke, something he found himself doing a lot more lately. 

His turned serious sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "You remind me of myself when I was your age. Scrawny, stubborn, trying too hard to prove something to the world." 

Kai titled his head “That wasn't too long ago, you're not that much older than me you know?” 

“Yeah, I know.” Yeonjun sighed out, “You Still remind me of my younger self. I’m a lot more grown up than my age suggests. I’ve had to grow up early.” 

Kai’s eyes widened. "Really?" His innocence warmed Yeonjun’s heart. 

"Yeah," Yeonjun said, a distant look in his eyes. "Only difference is, you’ve got a family who loves you. Don’t take that for granted, Kai. Not everyone’s that lucky."

Kai frowned, sensing the weight behind Yeonjun’s words. "What about your family?"

Yeonjun hesitated, then shook his head. "Not something you need to worry about, kid. Let’s just say... it didn’t turn out the way I wanted."

“I know they died..” Kai said, surprising Yeonjun. “I’m sorry. I can be your family now.” 

“I appreciate that.” Yeonjun’s voice was low, soft. Like he was savoring the moment but not wanting to look vulnerable. “You’re a good kid, Kai. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise."

Kai nodded slowly, his youthful energy appearing once more. "I won’t let my family down. I’ll keep practicing, and I’ll take care of them." 

Kai grinned, his spirit returning as he straightened his bow. Yeonjun reached into his coat and pulled out a folded letter. "Here," he said, handing it to Kai. "Same deal as last time. Get this to the nursemaid, and make sure it reaches her. No one else." 

Kai took the letter with a solemn nod, tucking it carefully into his satchel. "I won’t mess up. You can count on me."

"I know I can," Yeonjun said softly. "You’re tougher than you look."

Kai flashed a determined smile and slung his bow over his shoulder. As he turned to leave, he paused, glancing back at Yeonjun. "You know," Kai said, his voice tentative, "you’re kind of like the big brother I always wanted." 

Yeonjun froze, the words catching him off guard. He swallowed hard, his voice rough as he replied, "And you’re like the little brother I never asked for." Kai laughed, waving as he disappeared into the woods. Yeonjun watched him go, a strange warmth settling in his chest. 

The wind howled outside Yeonjun’s cabin, rattling the wooden shutters as he sat at his small, worn table. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. He ran his fingers over the letter he’d received from Kai earlier, the princess’s words already memorized but still giving him solace. He was about to turn in for the night when a sharp knock echoed through the cabin. Yeonjun frowned. Kai was long gone, and he wasn’t expecting anyone else. 

He opened the door cautiously, but no one was there. Instead, an envelope lay on the ground, the seal glinting faintly in the moonlight. Yeonjun bent down to pick it up, his pulse quickening.

He stepped back inside, closing the door behind him as he examined the envelope. The weight of it felt different from her usual letters. The paper was finer, the edges gilded with gold. For a moment, he thought Kai had brought it late, maybe as part of some grand gesture. But when he broke the seal and unfolded the paper, his stomach dropped. it wasn’t her handwriting. The words danced mockingly across the page, each one sinking like a stone in his chest. 

“You are cordially invited to a masquerade ball at the royal palace to celebrate the forthcoming marriage of  The Princess to Lord Kang Taehyun.” 

His grip on the paper tightened, the edges crumpling beneath his fingers. He read it again, hoping he’d misunderstood, but the meaning was clear. 

Her marriage announcement. 

The room felt suddenly stifling, the walls closing in as his heart pounded against his ribs. He stared at the invitation, anger and confusion warring within him. She hadn’t mentioned this in her letters. Not once. He knew they were trying to force her into a marriage but not that they were going through with one. 

"Why didn’t she tell me?" he muttered to himself, his voice harsh in the quiet cabin. 

Yeonjun paced the room, the invitation clutched tightly in his hand. Every instinct screamed at him to stay away, to keep his head down and let this royal mess unfold without him. But the thought of her standing in that grand ballroom, her eyes filled with sorrow, surrounded by strangers, was unbearable. He sank into his chair, his head in his hands. The memory of her tear-streaked face from the night she’d come to his door haunted him. The way she’d clung to him, her voice trembling as she confessed her fears. 

"I have to see her," he said aloud, the resolve hardening in his chest. His eyes fell back to the invitation. A masquerade. If there was ever a way for him to slip into the palace unnoticed, this was it. 

But what then? What could he possibly say or do to change the course of her life? With a heavy sigh, Yeonjun placed the crumpled invitation on the table and leaned back in his chair. The fire crackled softly, the warmth doing little to ease the chill that had settled in his chest. Tomorrow, he would decide what to do. But tonight, he let the weight of the truth settle over him, the words on the page a stark reminder of just how precarious their love truly was. 

The night of the ball had finally arrived. Yeonjun sat in the quiet of his cabin, the fire in the hearth reduced to glowing embers. His packed bundle rested on the table ​. Everything felt heavier tonight—the air, his thoughts, the weight of what he was about to do. He’d spent the day going over his plan, but now, as the moment drew closer, his mind turned to the boy who’d become a surprising presence in his life: Kai. He’d spent the day going over his plan, trying to get his affairs in order. Earlier, he’d gone to look for Kai. The boy was usually eager, always hovering around his cabin or running errands in the village. But today, Yeonjun had called for him several times, even gone to the square to see if he was there, but there’d been no sign of him. 

“Probably busy with his family,” Yeonjun muttered to himself, trying to shake off the unease that crept in. He thought of Kai’s bright grin the last time they’d spoken, the pride in his voice as he told Yeonjun about finally catching his first game. The memory pulled at his heart. He’d wanted to talk to the boy, to tell him everything, to hand over the cabin, the bow, and all the tools of his trade. But with no time to waste and no sign of Kai, Yeonjun had to make peace with leaving it all behind without explanation. 

"I’ll leave it all to him," Yeonjun murmured, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. "The cabin, the bow, everything." It wasn’t much, but it was all he had. And Kai deserved a chance—a real chance—to make something of himself. He thought back to the day he’d handed Kai the golden bow, the way the boy’s eyes had widened with reverence. That same boy had caught his first animal just days ago and had been beaming with pride when he told Yeonjun about his family’s gratitude. 

“They’ll need this more than I will,” Yeonjun muttered. “Kai will understand.” He sat at the small table, a scrap of paper and a stub of charcoal in hand. The words didn’t come easily, each one feeling like a goodbye he wasn’t ready to say. But by the time the fire had burned down to its last embers, the note was finished, folded neatly and left on the table. Yeonjun stood, shouldering his pack. His gaze swept the small cabin, taking in the worn wood, the faint scent of smoke, the memories etched into every corner. 

"This is the right thing," he said softly, though the ache in his chest made him doubt. As he stepped outside, the cold night air bit at his skin, and the quiet of the woods enveloped him. He turned once to look back at the cabin, the soft glow from the window casting a faint light into the night. “Kai will be fine,” he whispered, as if convincing himself. “He’s stronger than he thinks.” And with that, Yeonjun made his way toward the palace. The plan was set, and his resolve was firm. Tonight, he would find her, and together they would leave this world behind.

The masquerade ball was in full swing, a sea of gilded masks, shimmering gowns, and laughter that echoed through the grand halls of the castle. Yeonjun, hidden in plain sight among the servants, carried a tray of fine goblets filled with wine. The facade of calm he wore barely concealed the storm brewing inside him. He’d caught sight of her several times already, dressed in a gown of deep emerald green that hugged her frame and glimmered under the chandeliers. The mask she wore couldn’t hide her identity from him, not when her pink hair peeked through in soft waves. But it wasn’t just her beauty that consumed his attention—it was the man beside her. 

Kang Taehyun. 

The one she was supposed to marry. 

Yeonjun clenched his jaw, his grip tightening around the tray. The man was broad-shouldered, and carried himself with an air of entitlement that grated on Yeonjun’s nerves. He stayed close to her, far too close, speaking in a low voice that made her frown, though she masked it quickly for the sake of appearances. It made Yeonjun’s blood boil. 

This was why he was here, why he’d come despite the risks. He couldn’t stand idly by while they paraded her around as if she were a prize to be won. Moving through the crowd, Yeonjun kept his head low, blending in with the other servants. He waited for the right moment—when her parents’ eyes were elsewhere, when the suitor was distracted by a gaggle of nobles seeking his attention. Pathetic. And he thought he was worthy of her? 

When it came, Yeonjun didn’t hesitate. He set his tray down and approached her from the side, careful not to draw attention. As he passed, his fingers brushed hers ever so lightly, and he slipped a small folded note into her hand. She flinched at the touch but quickly covered her reaction, slipping the note into the folds of her gown without looking. Yeonjun didn’t wait for acknowledgment. He melted back into the crowd, his heart pounding.

The note in your hand felt heavier than it should, the words scrawled in familiar handwriting still burning in your mind. "The garden. Now." 

Your heart thudded against your ribs as you scanned the ballroom. The glittering chandeliers and elegant guests seemed to blur together, a hazy backdrop to the storm of emotions churning inside you. You’d recognized him instantly, despite the servant’s uniform and the simple black mask concealing part of his face. Why was he here? What was he thinking? You spotted Taehyun across the room, deep in conversation with your father, his smooth laugh carrying over the hum of the crowd. Your mother stood nearby, her sharp eyes scanning the ball for potential allies, rivals, and threats. The guards stationed at the doors kept their watchful gazes moving, their vigilance a constant reminder of your gilded cage.

Slipping the note into the folds of your gown, you waited for the right moment. When your mother turned to speak with a duchess, and your suitor became engrossed in a conversation about trade routes, you slipped quietly toward the side door leading to the garden. The cool night air hit your skin like a balm, the oppressive heat and noise of the ballroom fading with each step. You moved quickly, your gown brushing against the gravel path as you made your way through the moonlit garden. And then you saw him. 

Yeonjun stood near a stone bench, his figure half-hidden by the shadows of the trees. His head turned at the sound of your approach, and even in the dim light, you saw the tension in his expression melt into something softer. "You’re here," he said, his voice low and rough. 

"You told me to come," you replied, your heart racing. "What are you doing here? If anyone sees us—" 

"I don’t care," he interrupted, stepping toward you, his eyes blazing. "I couldn’t stand watching you with him." 

You froze, his words hitting you like a jolt. "Yeonjun, you can’t just—" You couldn't risk someone seeing you. No matter how badly you just wanted to run into his arms and never let go, this could turn dangerous and fast. 

"I had to," he cut in, his voice fierce. "You’re going to marry him, aren’t you? That’s what this whole masquerade is for. To announce it to the world." 

His words stung because they were true, but you didn’t have a choice. "It’s not what I want," you said quietly, your voice trembling. "But I don’t get to decide." 

"There’s always a choice," he said, his tone sharp, almost desperate. "You don’t have to do this. We can leave tonight—just say the word, and we’ll be gone." You stared at him, the weight of his offer pressing down on you. His intensity, his recklessness—it should have frightened you, but instead, it made you ache. Leaving was all you could ever think about. Leaving the prison you grew up in finally with the man you loved would be everything you had dreamed of. 

"Leave?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. "And go where? They’d find us. They always do." 

"Let them," he said, his voice softening as he stepped closer. "Let them try. I won’t let them take you from me." 

His words broke something inside you, the carefully constructed walls you’d built to endure this life. You looked up at him, tears stinging your eyes. "Yeonjun, this is madness." And it was, but word by word he was convincing you. 

"Maybe it is," he said, his gaze locking with yours. "But I can’t lose you. Not to him. Not to anyone." 

The night seemed to still, the world shrinking until it was just the two of you. Slowly, you reached up and removed your mask, the cool air brushing against your tear-streaked cheeks. "I don’t want to lose you either," you whispered, the truth spilling out before you could stop it. He closed the distance between you in a single step, his hands cradling your face as his lips met yours. The kiss was soft at first, tentative, but it quickly deepened, years of longing and frustration pouring into it. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer, and you clung to him as if he were the only thing keeping you upright. 

When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless. His fingers brushed your cheek, his touch achingly gentle. "What do we do now?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and hope. 

“We go.” he said, his voice steady and sure. "Together." 

“Now?” You asked, your voice unsteady and unsure. 

“We have to,” he nodded, his tone urgent, almost frantic. His hand was firm around yours as he began to lead you deeper into the garden, away from the prying eyes of the guards and the glittering lights of the ball. “It’s now or never, Princess.” You hesitated at his words, glancing back toward the castle, its grand silhouette looming like a watchful predator. But the pull of his hand—and the fierce determination in his eyes—spurred you forward. The garden paths twisted and turned, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your hurried steps the only sound in the quiet night. The cool air bit at your cheeks, and your gown tangled around your legs, but you didn’t stop. He didn’t stop. 

“We’ll make it,” Yeonjun muttered, half to himself, half to you. “Once we’re past the outer gates, they won’t be able to follow us. Not tonight.” Your heart thundered in your chest, not just from the exertion but from the enormity of what you were doing. Running. Escaping. Leaving everything behind. Ahead, the garden’s stone archway came into view, the dense forest beyond it a promise of freedom. But as you reached it, something sharp and cold slithered down your spine—a sense of foreboding you couldn’t shake. 

“Yeonjun, wait,” you whispered, pulling on his hand. 

“What is it?” he asked, glancing back at you, his brow furrowed. 

Before you could answer, there was a faint rustling behind you. Then, a muffled cry—a sound so brief and so quiet you weren’t sure you’d heard it at all. 

A hand wrapped around your mouth muffled your screams of protest, throwing you backwards and away from the view of Yeonjun. The last thing before going dark was Yeonjun’s slumped body against the wall and the face of your father looming over the balcony…grinning. 

Yeonjun’s eyes fluttered open, and the world around him spun in dizzying circles. The pounding in his head was the first thing he felt—a sharp, blinding pain that seemed to come from deep within his skull. He was lying on cold stone, his body twisted in uncomfortable angles, the rough texture of the floor scraping against his skin. His wrists were shackled behind him, and he could feel the weight of the iron biting into his flesh, a constant reminder of his captivity. The air was damp, heavy with the smell of mildew, and the faint dripping of water echoed in the darkness.

"Awake at last," a gruff voice sneered from somewhere above him.

Yeonjun tried to lift his head, but the effort sent another wave of pain through his skull, making his vision blur. He blinked, trying to focus, and found himself staring up at two guards, their faces shadowed by the dim light of a single torch mounted on the stone wall. "Where am I?" he rasped, his throat dry and cracked. 

"The king’s dungeon," one of the guards answered, stepping forward with an air of superiority. "You should feel honored. Not many get to see it." Yeonjun tried to push himself up, but a sharp kick to his ribs sent him crashing back to the floor. He gasped, struggling to catch his breath as the pain radiated through his body. His fingers curled around the cold stone beneath him, grounding himself as he tried to regain control. 

“Why were you sneaking around with the princess?” the second guard asked, his voice low and threatening. “What were you planning?” 

Yeonjun didn’t answer. His lips were sealed, his mind racing. He wasn’t going to give them anything. The first guard knelt down, bringing his face close to Yeonjun’s. “Don’t play dumb with us,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “We know about the little messages you sent. Through that boy.” 

Yeonjun’s heart skipped a beat. His mind raced. Kai. They had taken him. His body ran cold, a shiver shooting up his spine. “What did you do to him?” Yeonjun demanded, his voice hoarse but filled with venom.

The first guard chuckled darkly, pulling something from behind his back and tossing it onto the floor in front of Yeonjun. It clattered against the stone with a sickening sound, and Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat when he saw it.

A bloodstained arrow. 

The arrow that had once been his, now soaked in the blood of the one person who had truly believed in him. A boy, not much younger than him but so full of life. Only wishing to make his family proud. Dead..because of him. 

"Recognize this?" the guard taunted, his grin widening. “Your little messenger screamed your name the whole time. Begged us to let him go. Begged for you to save him.” 

Yeonjun’s breath caught in his throat, his vision swimming as the truth hit him like a blow to the gut. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. No. no. no. Kai. 

“No,” he whispered, the words barely escaping his lips. Almost like a plea to any god that would hear him. Any god with mercy. 

“Oh, yes,” the second guard said, leaning in with a malicious smile. “And the old woman? The nursemaid? She put up quite the fight. But don’t worry. She didn’t last long either.” The words sliced through Yeonjun like a blade, and for a moment, everything in him went cold. 

"You bastards!" he shouted, his voice breaking with fury as he surged forward, only to be stopped by the chains holding him in place. He rattled them with all his strength, the metal digging into his wrists, but he couldn’t escape. The guards laughed at his struggles, their cruel amusement echoing off the stone walls of the dungeon. 

“You brought this on yourself,” one of them said, standing to leave. “All of this—on you. On them.” The sound of their boots faded as they retreated down the hallway, their laughter still ringing in his ears. Yeonjun was left in the suffocating silence of the dungeon, his heart heavy with grief and guilt. His body trembled as he slowly sank back onto the cold floor, the bloody arrow still lying in front of him—a symbol of everything he had lost.

Kai. Kai was dead. They had taken him, tortured him, dumped him god knows where. His family, oh god his family. Yeonjun couldn't take it. The curse, he knew it was real and for the first time since the death of his family he had felt it tenfold, piercing him like his very own arrows. They were the archer and himself the prey, left in agony to be eaten by the wolves of the kingdom. How dare they?

Kai was innocent. He was pure. He was good. All things Yeonjun was not. And Kora, Kora had only had nothing but love for the princess. She nurtured her and raised her. She did more than the queen could ever do, gone. Because of him. He closed his eyes, the weight of it all crashing down on him. His chest ached with the unbearable loss, and for the first time in years, tears welled up in his eyes. But there was no one left to comfort him. 

A sharp kick to Yeonjun’s stomach jolted him awake, the breath ripped from his lungs as pain shot through his body. He doubled over instinctively, coughing and gasping for air, but the guards were relentless. Rough hands grabbed him by the arms, dragging him to his feet. His legs felt weak beneath him, his head pounding from the lingering ache of his earlier beating.“Get moving,” one of the guards barked, shoving him forward. 

Yeonjun stumbled, the chains on his wrists clinking with every step as they led him out of the dim dungeon. The harsh light of the corridor burned his eyes, but he kept his head down, biting back the groan of pain that threatened to escape. As they marched him up a winding staircase, the familiar sounds of the grand hall grew louder—the murmurs of people, the echo of heavy boots on marble, the crackling of torches. Yeonjun’s heart sank. He didn’t have to guess where they were taking him.When they shoved him into the throne room, the sight that met him was worse than anything he could have imagined. 

The king sat on his golden throne, his expression smug and triumphant. The queen was beside him, her cold gaze fixed on Yeonjun as if he were nothing more than filth beneath her feet. And there, standing just to the side, was the princess. Her face was pale, her eyes red and swollen as though she’d been crying for hours. The moment she saw him, her hands flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp. 

“Ah, the infamous hunter,” The king said, his booming voice dripping with mockery. “I must say, I didn’t expect such a... lowly creature to have the nerve to court my daughter.” Yeonjun said nothing, his jaw tightening as he stared at the marble floor. 

The king rose from his throne, descending the steps slowly, savoring every moment of Yeonjun’s humiliation. “What? Nothing to say? No impassioned defense of your love? No heroic declaration of your intentions?” Still, Yeonjun remained silent. 

The king laughed, a cold and hollow sound that echoed through the chamber. “You see, princess?” he said, turning to his daughter. “This is the man you chose. A coward who can’t even speak for himself.” 

“Stop this!” the princess cried, stepping forward. Tears streamed down her face, her voice cracking as she pleaded. “Please, father, stop this! He hasn’t done anything wrong!”

“Silence!” the queen snapped, her tone sharp and unforgiving. “You will not disgrace this family further by defending him.” 

“But-” 

“I said, silence!” The king roared, and the princess flinched, her shoulders trembling as she bit back a sob. 

The king turned back to Yeonjun, his smirk returning. “Your little messenger is dead, you know,” he said, his tone almost casual. “And the nursemaid. Both gone, thanks to you. All because you thought you could play hero.”

Yeonjun’s head snapped up, his eyes blazing with fury. His heart twisting in his chest. 

The king gestured to one of the guards, who held up the bloodstained arrow as a grim trophy. “The boy cried for you, you know. Right up until the end.” Yeonjun’s chest heaved, rage and sorrow clawing at his insides, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of a response.

The king’s smirk deepened. “No clever retort? No fiery protest? Very well.” He raised his voice, addressing the room. “Choi Yeonjun, the hunter, is hereby sentenced to death for his treasonous actions and his insolence against the crown.” 

“No!” The princess’s scream pierced the air, raw and desperate. She ran forward, throwing herself in front of Yeonjun. “You can’t do this! Please, father, I beg you!”

The queen rose from her throne, her expression cold. “Move aside, child. This is what must be done.” 

“No! I won’t let you!” She turned to Yeonjun, her tear-filled eyes locking onto his. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “This is all my fault.” 

“Enough!” The king’s voice boomed, and the guards seized the princess, pulling her away from Yeonjun. She struggled against them, her sobs echoing through the hall as they dragged her back toward the throne.

Yeonjun stood tall, his eyes meeting the king’s without a trace of fear. If this was how it ended, so be it. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing him break. But as the princess’s cries filled the room, a new thought burned in his mind. The memory of Kai, bright eyed and cheery. And everything he had taken from the both of them. She was apologizing but she was not the one at fault. He was. 

Yeonjun sat slumped against the cold stone wall of his cell, his wrists raw from the iron chains and his body aching from days of neglect and torment. His head hung low, the heavy silence of the dungeon pressing against him like a weight. Every sound—the drip of water, the faint scuttle of a rat—seemed magnified in the stillness. Sleep had come and gone in fleeting, restless bouts, and this time was no different. A muffled commotion echoed from somewhere outside the cell. At first, he thought it was another cruel trick of his mind, the dungeon’s oppressive quiet playing games with his senses. 

But then, there was a distinct clatter—a guard’s voice shouting, followed by a heavy thud. His eyes blinked open, groggy and unfocused. He straightened as best he could, his pulse quickening. Footsteps. He squinted into the darkness, barely registering the soft sound of keys jangling. The door creaked open, and a figure slipped inside, cloaked in the faint torchlight spilling from the corridor. 

“Yeonjun.” a hushed, urgent voice whispered. 

His breath caught. It was her. 

“Princess?” he rasped, his voice hoarse and cracked from disuse.

She was at his side in an instant, her hands trembling as they fumbled with the lock on his chains. Her face, framed by the faint flicker of the torchlight, was a mix of desperation and determination. “What are you—how—” he began, but she silenced him with a sharp look. 

“No time for questions,” she said, her voice low but steady. “We need to get out of here. Now.” 

The chains around his wrists fell away with a loud clink, and she moved to the shackles on his ankles. “How did you even get down here?” he asked, still stunned as he rubbed at his sore wrists. 

She glanced up at him, a faint smirk tugging at her lips despite the dire circumstances. “My nursemaid taught me more than just calligraphy and how to curtsy,” she said, her tone almost teasing. “Turns out, lock-picking and sneaking around are also valuable skills for a proper princess.” 

Yeonjun blinked at her, equal parts impressed and incredulous. “Remind me to thank her—oh, wait.”

The smirk faltered, her eyes darkening with pain. “She taught me everything I needed to survive. And now we’re going to survive this. Together.” 

The last shackle came loose, and Yeonjun rose to his feet, his legs shaky but functional. She handed him a small dagger she’d tucked into her belt. “Where did you even get this?” he asked, gripping it as though it were the most precious thing in the world. 

“Confiscated it off a guard,” she said matter-of-factly, peering into the hallway. “You’re not the only one who knows how to fight, you know.” 

He couldn’t help the faint smile that crossed his lips. “Remind me never to underestimate you again.”

“You’d better not,” she shot back, her gaze darting around the corridor. “Now, let’s go before anyone notices.” The two of them crept through the winding passages of the dungeon, their movements swift but careful. The princess led the way, her steps light and purposeful, and Yeonjun followed close behind, his heart pounding with a mix of adrenaline and disbelief. Every shadow felt like a potential threat, every distant sound a prelude to discovery. But somehow, they moved unnoticed, slipping past guards and evading detection at every turn. 

As they ascended a final set of stairs, the faint light of the moon filtered through a nearby window, illuminating their path. Yeonjun paused for a moment, glancing at the princess. “Why are you doing this?” he asked, his voice soft but filled with curiosity. “You could’ve stayed safe, let them—” 

“Let them kill you?” she interrupted, her tone sharp. She turned to face him fully, her eyes blazing with emotion. “Do you think I could’ve lived with myself, knowing I left you here to die? After everything—after Kai, after Kora?” He opened his mouth to respond, but she shook her head. “You don’t get to question this. I made my choice. And I choose you.” Her words rendered him momentarily speechless, and all he could do was nod, his throat tight with unspoken emotion. 

“Now come on,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him forward. “We’re almost free.” The night air hit them like a cool balm as they slipped out through a side gate. The castle loomed behind them, a monolith of power and oppression, but they didn’t look back. They ran, side by side, into the darkness. 

The forest was eerily quiet as they approached the cabin, their breaths clouding in the cool night air. Yeonjun slowed as the familiar structure came into view, his steps growing heavier with every inch closer. The small home that had once been his sanctuary now felt hollow, haunted by what had been lost. The princess stayed close, her gaze shifting between him and the cabin, sensing the weight he carried. 

Inside, the room was as he had left it—simple and sparse, with few possessions to speak of. Yeonjun moved with purpose, pulling the golden bow from where it hung on the wall. He ran his fingers over its polished surface, the faint grooves where his hands had gripped it countless times. It had been his most prized possession, a symbol of his skill and survival. Now, it felt like a monument to the boy he’d lost.

“We’ll bury it here,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with grief. “It belongs with him.” 

The princess nodded, her throat tight with emotion. “I’ll help.” 

They stepped outside into the moonlit clearing, the ground soft from the recent rains. Yeonjun worked in silence, digging a small grave beneath the large oak tree at the edge of the clearing. The princess stayed by his side, her hands brushing against his to offer support when she could. When the hole was deep enough, Yeonjun carefully laid the bow inside, his movements deliberate and reverent. He placed a folded letter atop it—a message he had written to Kai’s family, explaining everything. His voice broke as he murmured, “I’m sorry. You deserved so much better.” 

The princess touched his arm, her fingers light but grounding. “He knew you cared for him. You gave him hope.” 

Yeonjun swallowed hard, nodding as he covered the bow and letter with soil, patting the earth down until the grave was complete. The princess knelt beside him, placing a small wildflower she had plucked from the forest nearby atop the fresh dirt. Together, they bowed their heads in silence, a quiet tribute to a boy whose life had been far too brief. 

Inside the cabin, Yeonjun sat at the worn table, scribbling out one final letter. His handwriting was rough, but the words were heartfelt.

“To the family of HueningKai,

I write this with a heavy heart. Your son was brave, determined, and far too kind for this world. He reminded me of the best parts of myself, and I hope you know he made a difference, even in the short time he was with us.

I leave everything I own to you: my cabin, my tools, and whatever small coin I’ve managed to earn. May it ease your burdens and honor the boy who fought so hard for his family.

Kai deserved better, and I will carry his memory with me for the rest of my days. 

Yeonjun.” 

He sealed the letter, pressing his thumb to it as though it were a seal, and placed it on the table where the family could find it. The princess stood nearby, her eyes glassy as she watched him. “You’re doing the right thing.” 

He glanced at her, his expression unreadable but softening. “I hope so.” 

With that, they gathered the few supplies they needed—food, water, and some tools for their journey. Yeonjun paused in the doorway, casting one last look around the cabin that had been his home for so many years. “This place was never really mine,” he said, his voice low. “It was always meant for someone else.” 

She slipped her hand into his, squeezing it gently. “Then let’s find something that is ours.” 

They stepped out into the night, the forest stretching out before them, vast and unknowable. The princess glanced back once, her heart heavy with the weight of what they left behind, but she didn’t falter. They walked hand in hand, leaving the cabin—and their old lives—behind. Together, they vanished into the horizon, bound by love, loss, and the hope of something better.

taglist. @izzyy-stuff , @beomiracles , @filmnings , @dawngyu , @hyukascampfire , @saejinniestar

[circeyoru]

Love Trial _ Part 2

[Sung Jinwoo x High School Ex-Lover!Reader]

Part 1 ― Part 2 (here)

“I’m sorry. Let’s break up.”

“I understand. I wish you happiness, Hunter Sung. May your days be nothing of smiles and content.”

At the time, there wasn’t much to it, nothing that would make him take it back nor chase after your fleeting form. He, too, turned and left, returning to his work as a Hunter like usual. There was nothing personal, just that he felt like the distance and connection between you two was weaker than what he and you first had all those years ago. 

Well, the difference in your circumstances could be the reason. He was a Hunter and you were a citizen. As bad as he sounded, you two were in different worlds and you both knew it deep down. Yet both of you continued to cling to the hope and familiarity of what you two once had during the peaceful days of school and study. 

The distance felt stronger and farther when he first had the System. He put everything into growing stronger and securing his place so his family would have an easier time. He was grateful for your understanding and the space you’ve given him, but part of him wanted something more, something he can’t place. He was content with you in his corner when things were rough, he thought he was content with that.

More. More. More.

He craved for something more. Like his continuous growth in power and levels, he also wanted his relationship with you to grow. However, as he put more time into the System and its mission for his growth, he should have given you the time of day. Not that he realized until you two met up and told the other what happened recently. 

Shamefully, he kept the System and the power boost he had a secret from you and only told you about the dungeons he cleared. How he was better now and could afford things like medical bills and rent, so you didn’t need to lend him a hand. Effortlessly, you told him everything was going on with your life without many secrets he could sense; it was all so natural to you. Even the part about some colleagues asking you out.

It got him thinking. The situation between you two. Can one really call it a romantic relationship? When the two of you met up after so long, you two shared a meal and he found it hard to even share his mind and situation. There wasn’t much romantic love going on, more like close friends getting together. If people were to see the two of you on the streets, unless you two were holding hands or Jinwoo have his arm over your shoulder, you two looked more like friends.

Just friends. Maybe best friends..?

That’s why he did what he did without remorse. Without realizing his fault. Without realizing the heartbreak he gave you.

Jinwoo thought it was fine to just downgrade you to the status of ‘friends’ instead of staying loyal as your romantic partner. Instead of even trying to revive this distant and strained relationship.

When Cha Hae-In appeared in the picture, he thought ‘This is love’, so he pursued it. A unique bond and connection unlike any other. He was slow to it, but it was worth it, he thought. There was that skip in his heart and minor butterflies in his stomach, so it had to be, right?

A date with Hae-In in the amusement park proved otherwise.

“What a coincidence. Didn’t expect to see you two here.” Choi Jong-In smiled while coming over with an ice cream cone and cup in his hands. “On a date?”

“Guildmaster.” Hae-In bowed his head in respect, though one could notice the blush on her face. “What are you doing here?”

“A causal outing with a friend of mine.” Jong-In answered. He raised his hands to gesture at the icy treat. “Was put on ice cream duty cause I flinched during a roller coaster ride.”

Hae-In laughed, “How does anyone notice that? They’d have to be staring at you the whole time.”

Jong-In nodded along with a smile, “You’re right; this friend of mine really was doing that the entire time, only cause staring at me was better than the ride and wanting free ice cream. I’m happy to oblige either way.”

“Jong-In! What’s taking you so long?!”

The familiar voice made Jinwoo’s head snap over to the side. There you were, walking through the crowd, panting a bit from a suspected run and dodging other people. He did notice a mid-freeze from you, but you continued to walk in his direction.

“Speak of the devil.” Jong-In chuckled and met you halfway, “Slow down, I’m not going anywhere.”

You glared at the fire mage and snatched the ice cream cup, “I’m scared my ice cream would melt! I didn’t care about you!”

“Ouch.” Jong-In playfully acted hurt.

You looked over Jong-In’s shoulder to see Jinwoo and Hae-In. You nodded your head in their direction and greeted them, “Hunter Sung and Hunter Cha. It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise.” Hae-In nodded, while Jinwoo only managed to nod without a word of exchange.

There was silence in the air, Jinwoo can’t help but stare at you, making you nudge closer to Jong-In’s side. A flame burned in his chest at your actions. He didn’t fail to notice how you tugged at Jong-In’s sleeve before the fire mage spoke up, “Well, it’s about time we head our way. Have a good time you two.”

Ironically, this time when you turned and left him, he wanted to chase after you. Just as he took one step and his lips parted, a weight on his arm grounded him. He looked down to see Hae-In shily smiling up at him. “Do you want to try what they did? Sounds fun!”

Right, you have had the best ideas to light up your times together. You can turn dull activities to something worthwhile.

“Let’s.”

As time passed, he found himself longing for your presence more and more. He’d see you while it was Hae-In he was spending his time with, scroll through your past chats with him (he’d see you online and offline from other chats presumably), and even hesitate to call you from time to time. He was always able to stop himself from actually calling you or texting you at the last second, swiftly coming to a sense of guilt. 

Then he buried himself in fights. Dungeons, worldly events, extra quests from the System. Anything to keep himself and his mind off of you, to remind himself why he said those words to you in the first place. It was his Hunter role that made things different, so he thought he’d be happier while attaching himself with a talented Hunter like Hae-In. However, in the end, all he only managed to do was foster more and more guilt and ache from his decision to be apart from you.

His blasted mind kept going back to the scene of you with Jong-In. He did know of your friendship with the man, that you had met him during your college days, an experience that he had to cut short due to his urgent need for money. Thinking back, why you didn’t first break up with him to go to Jong-In was a miracle. Since he was a lowly E-Rank and Jong-In was a successful S-Rank.

What a fool he was to give you up just like that.

He made attempts to see you again; the least he could do was treat you as a friend when he was such a heartbreaker. Through the eyes of his Shadows, he searched for you. Yet, every time, you were busy with your work or you were with some friends of yours. It looked as though you were well off without him, while he was wallowing in his own self-created sorrow. Your smiles without him was like a stab in his heart time and time again. Why did you stay with him when you were far better without him?

Silently, he sent his Shadows to protect you from any dangers. Call it a sixth sense or something, there was this uncanniness of you always glaring in the direction of where his Shadows were, as if you could tell he was looking at you and when.

.

.

.

“Will you allow me to call you mine?” Jinwoo asked the big question on his knee while you stared at him with your hands covering your mouth, obviously hiding a gasp. 

! NOTIFICATION

[WOULD YOU LIKE TO RESTART THE WORLD?]

YES NO

Words wouldn’t form and your eyes started to water. The only thing you managed to do was nod your head repeatedly, showing him that dazzling smile of yours and the echo of your laughter surrounded him.

! NOTIFICATION

[WOULD YOU LIKE TO RESTART THE WORLD?]

YES NO

Jinwoo rose to hug you. His arms opened and reached for you, yet the moment you were within arm’s reach, you faded to nothing. The smile on his face and the giddy feeling in his chest all disappeared like it was never there, replaced with an ache in his heart.

Jinwoo’s hand clenched as he stared at the spot where you once were. Imprinting into his mind that that was a reality he should have made come true and not here. “I know that all of this is an illusion…”

.

.

.

When the war was won and the Monarch of Destruction was no more, he had kneeled down in exhaustion. His mind hallucinated that you would be there to hug him. His ear would be against your chest as you would hug his head to close to you, you had always used your own heartbeat as his calming music after the deadly raids. It was the most melodic tune he had ever heard in his life. It would be fast initially, then slowed down to soft beats that his heart would follow. 

Of course, he’d never have the luxury of that anymore.

If only he had one more chance. “Just once more.” If only he hadn’t been so stupid to make that mistake. Your presence, your voice, your heart, your smile, your love. He could have it all again. If only he had a chance to start over. “Could I use the Cup of Reincarnation just once more?”

Soon. He’ll see you again.

.

.

.

My nightmare is over, and now, I’m with my younger sister, my mother who’s healthy, and my father who didn’t disappear. I was given the last chance to set everything right. I won’t lose this opportunity. I can now rewrite the future that is to come. But, just for a little… Isn’t it okay for me to just treasure this peace that I’m feeling? As a reward for myself.

He knew his duty and he knew when he’d meet you. High school was the fated time and place where the two of you left in love and started going out. This time, he’d fall in love with you and cherish you. Only you. Without the whole thing with gates and Hunters, he wouldn’t have to leave you to attend college. This time, he could attend college with you. By your side.

First. He has to deal with the Monarchs.

.

.

.

Jinwoo stayed seated as he stared at the melting buckles of ice cream he left untouched. The sweetness from the cold dessert had lost its flavour. To be thrown away after one’s purpose is fulfilled was a terrible feeling. Was this for you left when you were abandoned by him all that time ago? He hated this feeling and he hated himself for not realizing it sooner.

Just then he turned his head to the side, the glass showed the streets outside and the people that crowded it because of the giant gate he made for his return. His eyes weren’t mistaken. It had to be. There you stood, a younger form from what he recalled, but definitely you. You were staring at the ice cream shop’s menu with a thinking face before looking down to your phone and started moving once more.

He practically leapt out of his seat and ran to the doors. He saw your back disappear into the crowd and the call of your name from someone, someone he didn’t think would be there with you. Then you were gone again. He could have sent his Shadows to search for you or follow you, but it wasn’t a meeting that would do him much favour. In time, he’d meet you in high school. 

To wait a while longer then…

Manhwa Scene Used (just in case any of you wanna re-read): 161 (illusion with Reader), 179 (Jinwoo’s return & ice-cream shop)

Note: A bit longer, but it's cause Jinwoo's POV is bits and pieces since he needed to balance his depression and saving the world. You know, hero/MC stuff.

This got dragged on for posting cause I got annoyed with the people asking when/where's part 2 when there are responses above theirs already. Please just check before you ask something. It's not that hard, guys...

Part 3 in the works, no promises on when it'll be out

𝕮𝖎𝖗𝖈𝖊 𝖄.

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: @my-arietta @mydearestbeloved @skylar896 @o-qi-shisme @the-dumber-scaramouche @mochinon-yah @waka-babe @ditmemay1234 @mangooes @cottonbeeeeeeee @gurlie919

[lurochar]

Before It All (Pt. 3)

Warnings: Obsessive Alastor

Part 1 + Part 2

---------------------------------

It really was you.

His nameless Doe.

You seemed tense, clearly uneasy by the static he emitted and his presence alone by the looks of your erect ears and puffed fur of your tail.

(How cute, you had your clothes altered for your tail. A shame he hadn’t noticed it back when he had summoned you).

Alastor was now used to fellow demons being unnerved and frightened in his presence and so they should be, but you – there was no reason for you to be so anxious in his company, though he supposed he could understand it somewhat.

The power dynamics were completely turned around.

You had no advantage over him, he wasn’t that weak human anymore.

But still, Alastor didn’t like the fact you were so wary of him, so he needed to lighten the mood, break the tense atmosphere, and there was no better way than reminding you of your encounter with him when he was the weaker one, when you had the power over him, was there?

“How I’ve missed your wonderful ears, my nameless Doe.”

Alastor always did find your ears fascinating.

He may have his own pair of deer ears now and they had their uses – his auditory senses were vastly superior when compared to his human self, so much so, it took a week or two for him to adjust to sensory overload. They also gave any would-be attackers a false sense of security, he was just a deer demon, so he had to be weak.

Ripping those sorts to shreds felt much more satisfying.

But his ears were so damn sensitive to touch that Alastor had no idea how you didn’t just melt into a trembling mess when you allowed him to stroke your ears all those years ago.

He needed to move on from these thoughts before–

You blinked at his odd greeting, your body relaxing slightly from its earlier tensed position that had been poised to flee at any given second.

You blinked again.

And then you let out a loud yelp of surprise, springing forward when you felt icy cold hands playfully tug on your ears from behind. 

–before his shadow acted upon them.

You reeled around to see what had touched you, not expecting to see a grin right up in your face and you stumbled back a bit, happy enough that you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of the Radio Demon/Alastor by letting out some sort of pitiful sound like a scream or shriek.

“I do hope you can excuse my shadow’s behaviour. The poor thing can hardly contain itself, seeing it is a reflection of me.” Alastor gestured the shadow away, which it did after giving you a last glance before it vanished. “Well then, should we do now what we should have done twenty-four years ago?”

You’re unsure what he is talking about.

“Introductions, my nameless Doe! Unless you prefer that name over your real one.” Alastor bows in a flashy way. “Alastor Hartfelt! But you already knew that, correct?” He stood up straight and eyed you expectantly.

“It’s nothing special, it’s just Y/N.” You shrug before eyeing Alastor intently and you hope you don’t get killed or worse for your question. “You just seemed like a miserable boy brought up in a miserable situation, so I gave you a pass. I thought if I got rid of your main problem, maybe you could live the rest of your life normally. You didn’t even make it to forty. What happened?”

Alastor hummed. “It would turn out that my father was only a drop in the bucket. After that wretch was gone from our lives, my Mama instilled in me the importance and value of women. Women are not second-class citizens nor are they property, but this way of thinking was uncommon and misogyny was everywhere.”

You think you can guess where this is heading to…

“I killed men, men like my father. Men who see no problem in beating their wife. Degenerates that stalked the alleyways for their next rape victim. For over a decade, I was the ‘Bayou Butcher’. It’s only due to the incompetence of a hunter that I am here now.” The expression on his face was that of delight. “I have no remorse. I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.”

Oh.

It’s… it’s not what you wanted for Alastor, but you remembered that sheer hatred in his eyes. Something that deeply rooted wasn’t so easily erased, even if the main cause was taken out of the situation.

Unfortunately, you were not wrong in guessing Alastor would eventually condemn himself to Hell.

Fortunately, you had held onto Hartfelt for the past twenty some years.

You do have another question, but you know better than to ask.

Some demons don't care, but some demons can get quite offended if asked about their appearance and why they ended up looking the way they do. It’s personal, tied to their sins in life and their manner of death.

Asking Alastor why he ended up as a deer demon, a prey-based demon, could get you killed or maybe worse.

“I was mistaken for a deer by an inept hunter who took a shot before bothering to confirm what he was shooting at.” Alastor answers easily and casually, as if reading your mind and knowing what you want to ask. “Do not be afraid to ask me anything, my lovely Doe. I assume you heard my message on one of my broadcasts, yes? I meant every word of what I said.”

Lovely Doe?

‘I told him my name…’ You decided it didn’t matter too much as it wasn’t demeaning or degrading. You’ve been called much, much worse and on a regular basis by Hartfelt, so hearing an affectionate(?) nickname was a bit of refreshing change–

Should you be thinking that way?

Your ears dropped.

“Listen, Alastor,” you noticed his eyes seemed to glow brighter from you simply saying his name, “I messed up that day. I… I shouldn’t have touched you, let alone hug you. There are countless reasons why most demons don’t have free access to the human world. Contact with demons tends to screw humans up. Even just one night with a Succubus or an Incubus can fuck up humans for months and they’re low-class demons.”

Alastor simply tilted his head.

“I’m mid-class and… and I should have known better.” You sighed. “I think I messed you up in some way by touching you and letting you touch me.”

You were taken back when Alastor started to laugh and your ears flattened completely, slightly bothered by his reaction to your words.

Did you say something amusing?

“Oh dear me, you have twisted it all around in your worrisome mind, haven’t you?” Alastor chuckled. “So you have yet to realize you saved me and my Mama from that piece of scum I had to call ‘father’? My life even? Had you not killed that man for me, I would have made a clumsy attempt to murder that man, whether I succeeded or not. Such a thing would have cost me my life much earlier. I would not have been able to pursue my career and take good care of my Mama until her final days.”

You flustered, not sure what to say back.

“I lived my life the way I wished to because you freed me from that man. I am here in Hell purely of my own actions, though perhaps a little earlier than expected. You are very much downplaying what you are to me and I cannot say I care much for it.” Alastor couldn’t help the loudening crackle of his static.

“...okay…”

“Pardon?” Alastor’s ears twitched at the mumble of your voice, though he heard you just fine. He wanted you to clarify what ‘okay’ meant and look him in the eyes as you did so. He wouldn’t trap you in a contract like the fools whose souls he owned, but with his guaranteed protection for nothing more than just staying at his side and within his sight, how could you refuse?

(Though, if you wanted to give him your soul, he certainly wouldn’t turn it down).

“Okay! Maybe I didn’t fuck you up! Maybe you were… a little ‘different’ from the start!” You weren’t sure how to say ‘psychopathic’ in a nice way. “I still felt guilty about it this entire time. I hoped differently, but I knew you would probably end up in Hell.” You admitted, huffing when Alastor let out another chuckle. “So I did something to try to make up for it in case I did mess with your mind somehow.”

“Hmm, and what is that, my lovely Doe?” Alastor’s smile seemed to widen and it may be hidden from view, his tail wagged in excitement. “You thought of me, even before I landed myself in Hell? I must say, I’m quite flattered!”

“I looked for him as soon as I got back from the human world and found him before he understood how… things worked around here.” You didn’t feel bad in the least. “So I tricked him into making a deal with me. Shelter, food, simple basics for his soul. He didn’t seem used to living on the streets, so he took it right away. He didn’t understand what it actually meant to give your soul away.”

“Well done! What a delightful little tidbit! I had no idea if you would be interested in the art of deal-making. I would be more than happy to guide you. Why, I already own a great number of souls myself.” Alastor’s smile turned a little more sinister and he felt his blood heat at the thought of watching you trick some desperate fool into giving you their soul.

He would slaughter an entire district just to see that.

“I’ve… never really thought about it? I just do what I can to get by. Prey and livestock-based demons don’t have it easy in Hell.” You were sought out for your meat after all. “Anyway, I thought I’d make it up to you by – well, that demon whose soul I own is your father’s.”

The static around Alastor went completely silent.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly nervous. “I, uh, I always intended on giving you ownership of his soul whenever you ended up here, if you ended up in Hell. You can do anything you want to him, I have no intention of interfering if you… wanted to broadcast his torment or something.”

Shit, why was Alastor staring at you like that?

Was it the wrong choice? Did he want nothing to do with his father?

“W-WAH!” It was the most pitiful fucking noise you could probably make, worse than that earlier yelp when Alastor seemed to melt into the floor through a void of shadows and then reappear right in your personal space before you comprehended what happened. That was not the reason you let out a damn bleat before you could help it, though.

Alastor was stroking your ears just as he had done twenty-four years prior.

“A gift from you is always welcome, but this – I never imagined one that would bring me such… joy. Truly, you were always meant for me, my lovely Doe.”

“S-so, I take it you want ownership of his soul?” You struggled to get the words out, feeling your vision blur for a moment. You let out a breath of relief when Alastor reluctantly released your ears, but he didn’t step away from your personal space.

“Yes. I’m more than willing to give you a soul – ten even, in return. Mama may disapprove of it, but I will pay back a thousandfold and more for what that man put her through. He will suffer the worst torture I can possibly think of.” To your amazement, Alastor’s pupils spun into a shape that resembled radio dials before returning to normal.

“It’s a gift. You don’t need to give me anything back in return.” You blinked in surprise when Alastor poked your cheek, pinching it playfully before tutting at you. “What was that?!”

“You have been here longer than me, but it seems I must teach you a few good lessons.” Alastor held out his hand invitingly. “Before this transaction, would you like a tour of my radio tower?”

You placed your hand in his. “You’re going to have to explain it like you would to a child how this radio stuff actually works. I can turn my radio on and change the station, that’s about it.”

Alastor felt that chill that followed him all his life leave him and his smile felt genuine for very few times that it was as he felt your hand wrap around his.

He may be dead and in Hell, but his (after)life was looking rather bright – he still could enjoy his passion for radio and he no longer had to hide his true sadistic nature and homicidal thoughts. Better yet, he could combine the two and broadcast tortured screams for denizens of Hell to hear!

He was powerful and feared, toppling Overlords to become himself in an extremely short period of time and he owned multiple souls to do his bidding whenever and whatever he wanted – and soon, he could add his miserable wretch of a father to his collection to torment all he likes.

Best of all, he finally found you, the demon who made this all possible for him and now that he had you in his grasp, there was no conceivable way he would ever let you elude him. He could certainly give you the illusion of freedom and space if that’s what you wanted.

He was charming, he knew that, it’s all he needed to win you over.

Perhaps it would take a little time and patience, but he would get what he wanted in the end like he always did.

His lovely Doe. His new wife.

It was a dream that Alastor was going to turn into his reality.

----------------------------------------------------------

I hope this ending was satisfying

Tags: @alishii @yourdoorisunlocked @godsent69 @eris-norwega @catticora @tayraedoll @michi-keinz @martinys-world @n0tmentallystable @xalygatorx @everwolf-20 @yui-onnero

[milkbobatyun]

a false sense of security

pairing: wanderer/scaramouche x gn!reader

genre: angstober, events, yandere

summary: he would hunt you down to the ends of the earth, just to bring you back to your rightful place beside him

word count: 478

a/n: ofc i had to make him yandere, like have you NOT seen him when he was balladeer??? (so sexy oml). this piece can be read as a continuation of anyone but you

you had thought that if you could run to the other side of teyvat, he would stop chasing you.

oh how foolishly wrong you were.

scaramouche’s changes scared you. his thirst for power was insatiable, like a wild fire that had quickly grown out of control. the fire consumed him in every way, burning away the innocent, wide-eyed kunikuzushi, leaving behind only the heartless, cruel balladeer.

he yearned to be worshipped like a deity, with mortals bowing and grovelling at his feet. he wanted to feel powerful, to show to the god who had cast him away his true worth.

his pursuit of power made him greedy, blinding him from everything he had and held dear. distancing him, from you.

how he hated your empty promises and blatant lies.

you promised that you wouldn’t leave him, that you would always remain by his side.

so how was it, that now, he was hunting you down, sending his soldiers hot on your trail like a pack of hunting dogs?

like a rabbit with rabid dogs chasing at its heels, you scampered, ducking beneath branches and tearing carelessly through bushes, no heeding the clawing fingers of the branches, that sliced through your skin.

you could run, yes, but you could never, NEVER hide from him.

your breath fogged up in the chilly air, the cold seeping through the clothes you had thrown on in your panic. clutching your clothes tighter against your body, you carefully scaled the mountain. 

one wrong move, one slip of the foot, and the soldiers would track you down, binding you and presenting you to their lord like a prized prey.

you pressed on, the frost clinging to your eyelashes, your cheeks, your nose.

you were not going to turn back.

every day you lived in fear.

you were thousands of kilometers away from him, but still you chose to venture out of the house with your hair and face obscured by a hood, throwing glances behind you as though someone watched your every move.

every twitch of the shadows had you tensing, ready to run at any sight of danger. some nights, you feared sleep, afraid that his men would snatch you from your bed. yet, as you slowly settled into your new life, your defences began to crumble.

you were thousands of kilometers away from him, the oceans and desert separating you from the cold wasteland he inhibited.

surely, you were safe now.

what a dumb little bunny you were.

you had thought yourself free of his grasp. separated by oceans and rivers and deserts, there was no way his soldiers could reach you.

yet, in the twisting shadows of the alleyways, peeking through the boarded up windows, eyes always scrutinsed your every move, like a hunter, keeping watch with a careful eye, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

no, you were never safe.

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[mrdixon]

55th Birthday

pairing: established daryl x f!reader

wc: 6k

warnings: 18+ content, lots of plot!!!!, reader shoots a deer, alcohol, little bit of tipsy sex, oral (male AND fem receiving), hair pulling, little talk about pregnancy, slight breeding kink…?, creampie

summary: daryls birthday celebration!!

A/N: birthday fic for daryl since its normans birthday 😋 also ive been doing a lot of established daryl x reader, lmk if yall want something different i just like the way husband/boyfriend daryl feels… probably wrote this on ovulation.

masterlist

“It's the uh sixth of January t’day,” Eugene read from his notebook.

“What!? Shit!” You ran out of the council hall, ignoring Eugene’s confused babbles.

Today was Daryl’s birthday and you completely forgot. To be fair, who was keeping track of time nowadays? Eugene was apparently. You bit your lip as you scurried back home, Daryl was out right now so you had time to collect something to give to him.

Maybe you could bake a cake? Not much to work with though… and he isn't a big fan of sweets. You walked up the porch stairs and walked into the house, kicking your shoes off haphazardly as you furrowed your brows in thought. You thought about making him some arrows, but you didn't have time to make them, nor did you have the material for them.

You walked into the kitchen, throwing open cabinets and pulling open drawers, scrambling for any sort of material you could use to make something. How old was this man turning? You wondered, pausing for a moment.

“Fifty… fifty…” you thought for a long moment, “not in his sixties for sure.” You shrugged and continued your search for materials. Judging by the years that passed he was probably in his mid fifties, the thought making you realize just how long you’ve lived in this apocalypse. You picked up some twine, closing the drawer and running up the stairs. It wouldn't be much but you decided to thread some of your ribbon and twine together as a little charm for his crossbow.

Daryl knew how much you loved your little miscellaneous rubbish, despite his complaints of finding buttons scattered around the house. He brought you back a little wooden box just for your stuff, it would convenience both of you. The box stood atop your nightstand, you flipped it open and plucked out a light pink ribbon, it was one you threaded into your hair occasionally. Daryl always commented on it so you figured maybe he’d appreciate it if he had something of you with him all the time.

You plopped down onto the bed and made a little pattern with the twine and ribbon, intertwining them together into a little bow at the end. He could honestly wear it as a bracelet if he really wanted to, but the thought of having a slightly feminine object amongst his manly crossbow was kinda cute.

You tucked the charm into the pocket of your jeans, grabbing your holster that was also on your nightstand and securing it around your waist. Your gun was placed in there along with your hunting knife that was gifted to you by Daryl himself. You made sure you were fit to go hunting before leaving the house, the only thing you had to do was find your husband now.

You hastily walked down the street towards the front gates where Rosita was keeping watch.

“Rosi!” You called out and ran the rest of the way, she turned and smiled at you, furrowing her brows in curiosity.

“Hey you, whatcha’ need?” She brushed off your shoulder, you just sighed and placed your hands on your hips.

“I need to find Daryl, it's his birthday. He come in yet?” You sighed, fumbling with your fingers.

“No shit?” She asked surprised to which you nodded, “nah he hasn't come in yet. Probably still around the usual hunting grounds.”

“I'm gonna go track him down then,” you muttered and clutched onto the handle of your hunter's knife. Rosita chuckled and moved to open the gate for you.

“Yeah you go do that, be safe.” You nodded halfheartedly and quickly walked out of the gates and towards the forest.

It was surprisingly clear today, you haven't seen any walkers yet. The sun was bright and the atmosphere was just generally, calm. It was a perfect day for Daryl's birthday. You found the markers that stated the hunting grounds and decided on tracking Daryl. He's taught you many of his hunting tactics so why not put them to good use?

This quickly turned out to be useless as Daryl was really cautious out in the woods, and he tended to take careful steps. Meaning, no tracks to track. You groaned as you stalked further into the forest with no hope of finding your husband… until.

Rabbit tracks. Knowing him, Daryl would be following after the rascal. So if you couldn't track his tracks, you’d track the rabbit’s. You kept your hunter’s knife in your hand to be wary of your surroundings, it was way too peaceful to be true. The rabbit had travelled far as you kept walking, and walking… and walking. Eventually you reached a clearing, and the rabbit’s tracks had stopped.

You groaned. You were hopeless. Of course you could always wait for Daryl to just come home, but you wanted to do something for once. Plus if you really did track him down, he'd for sure be proud. And you loved when he was proud of you. You thought about different ways to find him, but there was really nothing to do. He could’ve gone any which way out here, and with no other tracks to look at, it was a lost cause. That was what you thought until you heard the sound of what you believed were your husband's arrows being shot.

You quickly made your way towards the sound, making sure to stay hidden from his sight. After all this was supposed to be a surprise. The more you walked through the bushes, the more you could hear the faint sound of his footsteps. You peeked through the leaves of a bush and saw your husband looking around, he heard something, probably you. You ducked when his body turned in your direction, slowly standing up to see him facing the other before carrying on his journey.

You smirked, you felt like a spy dodging his glances and switching from tree to tree. You kept your distance to not get caught, staring at him from afar as he walked around looking for whatever animal he could get his hands on. The sun shone on his hair, highlighting the little specks of blond scattered amongst his brown locks. Those angel wings that hung from his broad shoulders surely displayed his character. Your eyes travelled down his arms, annoyingly covered by his shirt sleeves. His right hand held his crossbow idly by his side, the other holding that rabbit and his backpack. Daryl was beautiful, he didn't think so but you always reminded him.

You started to get closer to him, close enough to hear him grunt to himself as he sat on a log. You started to get closer from behind, holding your hands out to prepare covering his eyes. He placed his stuff down next to him and looked down at the rabbit in his hand, though not doing anything. Like he was expecting something.

You quickly covered his eyes, not feeling him flinch a bit.

“Guess who?” You taunted playfully, standing right behind him. You heard him snort, his shoulders shaking.

“If I didn’ know it was you, ya would've been shot dead a while ago.” He shook his head chuckling as you removed your hands from his eyes and moved around the log to stand in front of him, your hands on your hips.

“Jeez, you couldn't humour me just a little bit?” You frowned at his smug expression, he was playing around with the rabbit in his hands.

“Nah, ya gotta work on yer tracking. Could hear ya from a mile away,” he snorted seeing your annoyed expression while simultaneously looking you up and down. “Is tha’ my shirt yer wearin’?” You looked down at the shirt you were wearing, noticing how much looser it was on you.

“Yeah, I guess it is, why?” You asked while plucking a pine needle off of the fabric.

“Ya didn’ have any other shirt ta wear?” He furrowed his brows before stuffing the rabbit in his bag, his head tilting back to look up at you.

“I just grabbed a random shirt from my dresser, why? Would you rather I not wear anything?” You crossed your arms and watched as he looked you up and down again, saying nothing but raising his brows. You rolled your eyes, “don't answer that.”

“I ain’ sayin’ anythin’.” He raised both hands up defensively before patting down the spot next to him. You grumbled but sat next to him, sighing as you relaxed and lay your head on his shoulder. He hummed in acceptance, placing his hand on your knee. “So why’re ya ‘ere?”

You sat back up, you almost forgot the reason why you were out here.

“Right, shit.” You fished out the handmade charm from your pocket, holding it out in front of him. He chuckled, taking it from your fingers and taking a closer look at it.

“’s cute, this fer me?” You nodded in response and his lip curled into a smirk, “this tha’ ribbon ya put in yer hair?” You nodded again as he pointed to the pink ribbon amongst the twine.

“Thought it'd be cute if you had a little something of me near you when you're out, you can tie it to your crossbow.” You murmured shyly, feeling like a schoolgirl giving her crush valentines chocolate.

“I love it,” he smiled genuinely before grabbing his crossbow and putting it between his legs so he could tie it to the handle. “Perfect, but why the sudden gift? Ya dyin’ or somethin’?”

You chuckled, “well…” He sat up straight and shot you a concerned glance. “No, I’m not. I’m giving it to you cause it's your birthday.”

His concern flushed away with a look of confusion, his hand coming up to rub his chin.

“My birthday? How do ya even know?” He narrowed his eyes questioningly.

“Eugene.”

“Ah…”

He nodded, looking back down at the charm before looking back at you. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and brought you close, kissing your forehead.

“Well thank you, I ‘preciate it.” He rested his chin on the top of your head, stroking your hair. “My birthday, haven' had one in a while.. damn, ‘m fuckin’ old aren’ I?”

You snorted, moving out of his grasp to look up at him. “You're not that old,” he gave you a ‘yeah right’ kind of look. “No really! You look quite young for your age.”

“Sure thing, ya just like butterin’ up yer husband.” He sneered playfully, you punched his chest in turn while chuckling.

“We’re both getting old hun,” you sighed contently and leaned against his body, feeling him let out a tiny sigh of his own.

“Mhm, yer still hot as hell though.” You laughed, covering your face while you felt his body shake in silent laughter. “’m not lyin’.”

“I know you aren't,” you chuckled and sat up straight. “Okay but… you have to admit, I did somewhat a good job on tracking you.”

Daryl snorted and raised his brows at you, but immediately stifled his chuckle when you frowned.

“Okay, okay sure. Ya did do a good job, ‘sides scarin’ my deer away with yer big ass footsteps.” You groaned at his feedback, kicking his ankle gently. You looked away from him and felt a gentle kiss on the back of your head, his warm breath on your neck. “Nah seriously, ya did a good job locatin’ me.”

“Really?” You turned around to face him quickly, “mean it?” He chuckled as you beamed at him, nodding.

“Yes really, now ya wanna help me find that deer so we can all eat t’night?” He nudged you on your lower back, his fingertips grazing your ass. You glanced at him, noticing a cheeky grin before standing up.

“Sure, why not? Maybe you could help me track better,” you dusted off your backside and took out your hunter's knife. He stood up with a grunt, slinging his bag over his shoulder and grabbing his crossbow before leading the way.

“It went off in this direction, couldn’ ‘ave gone far.” He murmured lowly as he pointed towards the direction where the river was. You nodded and followed close behind him, wincing as you stepped on a few twigs. Daryl turned and smirked slightly, “alrigh’. Watch where ya step, find soft ground an’ take ligh’ footsteps.”

“I think that’s obvious,” you muttered and heard him snort, taking your hand in his.

“Look,” he pointed to a leaf on the ground with his crossbow. “Tha’s gonna crunch when ya step on it,” he looked at you to see if you were listening before continuing his tangent, “ya can tell if a leaf is crunchy if ‘s browned on the tips and edges. When the colour of the leaf is dull or muddy, it’ll be soft. So ya can step on it but ya have ta be careful ‘cause sometimes tha’s just the colour of the leaf.”

“Then what about twigs?” You squeezed his hand and swung his arm with yours back and forth while you two walked.

“Well those are gonna snap if ya step on ‘em obviously,” he rolled his eyes matter-of-factly. “Jus’ watch yer step, eventually you’ll be good enough at watching yer step tha’ it’ll just be second nature ta ya. Which is why I dun’ have to look down every time I take a step.” He nudged you playfully, watching as you bowed your head and took various lengths of steps.

Daryl chuckled softly, releasing his grip on your hand to grab your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “Dun’ keep lookin’ at the ground though, ya keep doin’ tha’ an’ you’ll lose yer prey. Or worse, you’ll run into a walker wit’ yer head down.” You scoffed and shook your head, grabbing his hand again while he continued to walk ahead.

You occasionally glanced down at your feet, but kept looking ahead to watch your surroundings. Eventually, you found some deer tracks and elbowed Daryl.

“Deer tracks,” you pointed with your knife. He hummed in approval and let go of your hand to fully grasp his crossbow, turning his head over his shoulder and nodded as a signal for you to keep following him. You pressed your lips into a thin line and proceeded to follow the archer, making sure to take lighter steps.

The deer quickly came into view, unknowingly chewing on some not so crunchy leaves. Daryl raised a finger to keep you still and quiet, before beckoning you with that same finger. You quietly moved next to him, the two of you crouching behind a tree. His blue eyes met yours, holding his hand out for yours. You gave him your hand and he flipped it over so your palm was to the sky, and then he placed the handle of his crossbow in your hand. Your eyes quickly widened and you shook your head.

“No, Dar! I can’t shoot this thing!” You hissed quietly, seeing his expression shift into an amused one.

“Yeah ya can, dun’ worry. I’ll help ya,” he took your other hand and guided it to the foregrip before grabbing your waist and maneuvering you in front of him. He kept his body pressed against your back, his hands on yours and mimicked your placement. Your breath hitched as he moved his head to rest over your shoulder, his lips just barely grazing the shell of your ear. “Now aim fer the deer.”

His whisper sent a wave of heat through you, closing your eyes to calm yourself before opening them again and following his instruction. Gripping onto the foregrip, your raised the cross bow slightly and aim towards the deer, hearing a low whistle of approval.

“Good, now can ya take a shot at it?” His warm breath hit your ear again and you nodded, his pointer finger over yours as you started to slowly pull the trigger.

THWACK

You flinched and widened your eyes to see the deer on its side, an arrow sticking out of it. Daryl chuckled and let go of you, patting your waist.

“Good girl.” The nickname made you shiver a little, hoping he didn’t notice. “See, I told ya you could do it.” He took the crossbow from you and slung it over his shoulder before walking over to the deer. You walked proudly after him, watching crouch next to the deer and finishing it off with his knife.

“I may have lost your deer earlier but I shot it,” you grinned as you placed your hands on your hips. He chuckled and stood up, kissing your forehead.

“Tha’, you did. Now carry my bag so I can lug this home,” you smiled to yourself and took his bag, slinging it over both your shoulders as he threw the deer over his shoulders. Your eyes sparkled as you looked up at him, wishing you were the deer right now.

“Well now we’ll have something to eat for your birthday dinner, isn’t that right?” You chuckled as you both started walking back to Alexandria.

“Yer gonna cook me somethin’?” He raised his eyebrows in curiosity. “Ya already made me tha’ charm.”

“Of course I’m gonna cook you dinner, hell it’s your birthday. You deserve more than that flimsy ol’ thing,” you snorted while adjusting the straps of his backpack.

“Ya dun’ ‘ave ta,” he grunted. “Ya could just gimme a kiss an’ I’ll be okay wit’ tha’.” You laughed at his comment, shaking your head.

“But I want to,” he couldn’t argue with that logic. Instead he just sighed and nodded his head, the two of you continuing to walk in silence.

Daryl was in the shower while you pranced around the kitchen searing the share of deer you were given, making some venison steak for dinner. The smell of rosemary and lemon filled your nostrils as you stirred some mashed potatoes in another pot, the hiss of the meat cooking on the pan was delectable. You hummed while throwing some peas into the pot of mashed potatoes, along with some butter and salt before stirring it once more and turning off the stove. You checked on the venison which looked perfectly cooked, tasting a bit of the sauce left over and decided it was perfect.

“Really outdid myself tonight,” you hummed and turned off the stove completely before setting up some plates on the dinner table. You precisely plated the steaks on the plate, scooping the mashed potatoes intricately before drizzling some canned cranberry sauce over it. You smiled proudly and poured some red wine into some glasses before lighting up a few candles. After accessing your work you quickly ran upstairs to change into a little cocktail dress, still wanted to impress your husband after all. Speaking of, you could hear Daryl fix up in the bathroom so you hurried on. You fixed up your hair in the mirror and took one last glance over your body before running back downstairs, taking your seat at the table.

You waited patiently, letting him take his time to fix up. He wasn’t going to expect all of this, the dimmed lights and candlelit dinner, but you were ready to see his expression.

Daryl came down the stairs, his hair slightly damp and over his eyes. Your eyes trailed down his neck towards his button-up, which had a few buttons undone already, and he was wearing his usual pants. His head perked up at the smell of the delicious food, brushing his hair out of his eyes and taking in the sight before him.

You grinned cheekily as he stood there, mouth agape in shock. Catching himself, he smirked slight at you and brought his hand over his mouth, his eyes glazing over your legs.

“Thought you were jus’ makin’ me dinner,” he drawled lowly. “Didn’ expect a whole feast,” he gestured towards you. You laughed as he took his seat, his eyes still on you.

“Shut up, try your food.” You giggled as you pulled your chair in and cut at your steak, letting your eyes dart up to see what he thought. He looked down at his plate and picked up his knife and fork and cut into his, dipping a slice into the mashed potatoes to get a taste of everything before shoving it into his mouth. He groaned and leaned back in his chair as he continued chewing.

“Jesus christ, (Y/N)…” You giggled and took a bite yourself, groaning as well while leaning back.

“Damn, I’m good.” You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your wine, Daryl sitting up to do the same. He swirled his wine a couple times in the glass before taking a good chug and swallowing the liquid.

“Mmh, yeah ya are.” He grunted and continued to eat his food. You smiled lovingly at him, his gaze drifted back up to yours. He chewed his food and smiled back at you, just as loving. “Ya look beautiful.”

“You do too,” you grinned and earned a snort of disbelief from him. “You are!” You giggled, causing his stomach to swarm with butterflies, the sound of your laughter bringing joy to him.

The dinner consisted of you two talking and giggling about old memories, sipping wine and sharing longing glances across the table. Eventually you both finished your dinner but remained sitting at the table and drinking your wine.

“Do you remember when I fell off the back of your motorcycle and you refused to take me anywhere for two weeks?” You giggled against the rim of your wine glass, your eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Sure do, an’ I didn’ take ya anywhere fer two weeks because ya broke yer damn arm an’ had to heal.” He crossed his arms and had a stern look on his face, but laughed nonetheless.

You just giggled and finished your glass, reaching for the bottle for some more but it was quickly snatched away.

“Not too fast,” Daryl chuckled, reaching for your glass and pouring it himself. “Thank you fer all this, ‘s by far the best birthday I’ve had in a while.” He handed you your glass back, brushing his fingers over yours as he did.

“It’s nothing… I just wanted to spoil you a little, even if it’s just a little.” You smiled and took a sip of the wine, your head starting to spin a little. He noticed and took your glass away, finishing the rest himself. You chuckled, “I wasn’t done with that.”

“I know, but I dun’ want ya completely drunk.” He took the plates and glasses and put them in the sink before sitting back down in his seat.

“Why’s that?” You leaned forward, grinning expectantly.

“’Cause I wanna be able to reward ya fer yer hard work,” he smirked and leaned back in his seat, manspreading like his life depended on it. “C’mere.”

As if you were in a trance you immediately stood up and wobbled over to him, your mind still hazy but you both knew what you wanted. He tilted his head back to look up at you, that same cocky smirk painted across his lips. He kept his hands on his thighs, and it was like a silent communication of what he wanted. You bit your lip and held eye contact as you kneeled down between his legs, his head cocking to the side as he looked down at you, bring one hand into your hair.

“Good girl… now I may be askin’ too much, but do ya mind?” He nodded towards his erection that was eagerly straining against his pants. You shook your head, bringing your hands up to unbuckle his belt. He grumbled graciously, his fingers curling in your hair.

You bit your lip as you solely focused on getting his pants off, feeling him lift his hips up a bit to make the removal process easier for you. You glanced up at him while sliding his pants and boxers off in one go, he grunted softly as his cock sprang out. His pants and boxers hung around his ankles as you moved closer, inspecting his length. The head was flushed red, and looked almost painfully hard as it twitched from the feeling of your warm breath brushing against it.

As you continued gawking at his cock, Daryl got impatient and took his length in his hand. Your drunken body felt even more turned on as you watched your husband stroke himself slowly, brushing his thumb over the sensitive tip and hissing. You whimpered, biting your lip as you moved closer. The cold tile against your thighs was a good relief from your aching heat, feeling yourself get wetter the more you watched him.

Daryl brought his other hand to the back of your neck, bringing you even closer as he held his cock and guided it to your lips. You closed your eyes and let him run his length against your cheeks, giggling a little as he slapped the tip against your lips. He pushed the head of his cock against your lips which you quickly parted, letting him slide half his length into your mouth.

You both groaned at the contact, both his hands moving into your hair while one of your hands moved to hold onto the base. Daryl threw his head back and whimpered softly as you literally sucked on him once, pulling off to leave little kitty licks on his sensitive tip. He pulled your hair into a ponytail and tugged on it when you took him into your mouth again, rolling his eyes back as your tongue swirled around the tip. He let out multiple moans and whimpers of pleasure as you bobbed your head, stroking what you couldn’t take with your hand.

You could feel him start to get close, by the sounds of his breathless whimpers and the way his grasp on your hair got tighter. You let go of his cock and braced yourself before fully letting him in, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag. He moaned loudly, making a sound of protest and trying to pull you off of him. You didn’t budge and kept bobbing your head, gagging every time he hit the back of your throat. He whined breathily, his cock twitching in your mouth as he got closer and closer. Your eyes were teary but you kept going, wanting to taste his sweet release.

Daryl tugged your hair hard, groaning deeply as he came. Splurging ropes of warm semen into your mouth, you eagerly licked it all up, savouring the saltiness of his release. The sound and sight of him coming almost had you releasing yourself, reaching down to squeeze between your legs.

His hand released your hair and caressed the back of your head soothingly, as an apology for his rough tugging. You looked up at him as you swallowed the rest of his seed, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he wiped the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Get up fer me,” he whispered hoarsely, grabbing onto your thighs as you obeyed. He stood up after you and pulled you against his chest, his cock stirring back to life as you felt it press between your thighs. One hand was on your waist while the other held your chin, tilting your head back to look at him, his thumb brushing against your bottom lip before dipping his head to kiss you deeply. He groaned into your mouth as he tasted himself on your tongue, your tongues wrapping together as you fought for dominance. Ultimately, he won and you let yourself be kissed aggressively by this man.

He placed both hands on your hips, pushing you back and pulling his lips off yours. Before you could think he turned you around and bent you over the dinner table, his hand immediately moving under your dress. You cried out as his fingers rubbed your wet heat over your panties which were well soaked by now, he kept his other hand on your lower back before pulling your panties off. He pushed the skirt of your dress up and over your ass, keeping you bent over on display for him. You didn’t hear anything for a few moments, the alcohol in your system making you hear your heart beat in your ears. Your knees buckled as you felt his tongue run along your slit, you whined slightly while his hands held you steady.

His tongue wiggled around between your folds, a soft cry escaping your lips every time he brushed over your clit. His lips wrapped around your bundle of nerves, sucking on it and you could feel him smirk when you cried out. He continued this motion, your eyes rolling back while the top half of your body lay flat against the table. His tongue was replaced by his finger, rubbing your clit harshly and making your leg tremble in sensitivity. You moaned loudly, the sound of your moans echoed through the kitchen while his tongue entered you. You gasped harshly at the intrusion, your nails scratching against the table as his tongue thrusted in and out of your wet heat. The warm feeling of coming undone was brewing up in your stomach, your moans ragged.

“Fuck… Dar I’m gonna cum,” you whined breathlessly. He didn’t stop, rubbing your clit even harder and causing you to arch you back and squirm against his face. His tongue remained inside of you as you came, your breath heavy while he licked up your sweet nectar. You sighed and lay your head against the table, your mind swirling with lust and haziness from the orgasm.

“Stay there,” he grunted as he stood up, rubbing the flesh of your ass with his palm. “Ya look so beautiful bent over fer me like this. Makes me wan’ ta fill ya up, put a baby in ya.” Your breath hitched, looking over your shoulder to see if he was serious.

“Really?” You whispered hoarsely, your eyes sparkling in want. “You want a baby?”

“Fuck yeah,” he grumbled, standing behind you while caressing your ass. “I mean hell, we’re both gettin’ old. I wanna be able to give ya a child before we can’t… will ya let me?”

“Yes, oh god yes Dar please.” You pleaded, earning a light tap to your bum as he bit his lip.

“Then be a good girl fer me and lay still, yer perfect.” He whispered, running his length between your ass cheeks teasingly. You bit your lip and lay your head against the wood of the table, panting in anticipation as he continued to rub his cock against you. He held his cock in his hand and rubbed the head against your clit, spreading your folds so he could thrust along them. You both moaned simultaneously, the two of you relishing the slick feeling.

He pulled his cock back, circling it around your entrance before pushing forward, filling you completely. You moaned out in delight, closing your eyes and clenching around the length inside you, feeling your walls mold to his cock. He groaned, grabbing your hips and moving back and forth slowly. Your eyes rolled back, biting your lip hard as you felt every inch of his velvety skin stroke your inner walls.

His fingers surely were leaving marks on your hips from how hard he was gripping onto you, clearly holding himself back from taking you roughly. He kept the pace slow, his cock occasionally brushing against your sweet spot but not fully meeting it. You moved back to meet his thrusts, earning a moan of approval from your movements. It still wasn’t enough.

“Need you deeper,” you pleaded softly, the high pitched tone of yours making his hips stutter. One of his hands ran up your back, grasping your hair and gently tugging you, prompting you to come up. You obeyed instantly, pushing yourself up as he carefully pulled you back to his chest. Your back arched as his hand trailed down over your throat, holding you against his shoulder.

He pressed his hips harder into you, eliciting a light breathy whine from you as your back arched further. He continued his hard thrusts, turning his head to press kisses along your neck, his cock reaching deeper and deeper with every thrust of his hips. You were closer to getting what you wanted, just one swivel of your hips against his was what got it. He slammed against your sweet spot, your jaw dropped and you closed your eyes as he kept hitting the spot. Your moans came out freely, his palm against your throat as you leaned back on his shoulder, mewling and whining loudly.

His grunts came in your ear, his breath heavy and hot as the both of you started to sweat from exertion. The sound of your skin slapping together echoed through the kitchen along with your whimpering moans and his grunts and groans. He let go of your throat and let you fall over the table, placing both his hands on your hips and thrusting with renewed intensity. His hips slapped against yours hard, his eyes watching your ass jiggle with every contact. He brought a hand up to grip your ass, pushing himself deeper into your pussy. The wet sounds of him thrusting in and out just filled you with more arousal, closing your eyes to fully immerse yourself in the moment.

You tightened around his cock as you felt yourself coming close to completion, the feeling of your walls tight around him made Daryl groan deeply. His hips stuttered but kept the pace, fucking you deeply and hard. It was clear he was also close as his grip on you became tighter and his movements got sloppier.

“Fuck, yer so tigh’… gonna fill ya up,” he groaned, thrusting harder into you. “Gonna make ya carry my babies.”

His words sent a chill up your spine, mewling out in pleasure and desire. “I want that… please…” You begged pathetically, your voice barely a whisper from all your crying and moaning.

“Imma give it to ya, dun’ worry baby. Gonna cum inside ya so deep,” he grunted, pulling your hips back in time with his movements. “Gonna give ya a baby, make ya a mama.” You whined in desire, clawing at the wood as your body trembled. Your orgasm quickly coming up.

You screamed out his name as you came for the second time tonight, rolling your eyes back as you did. You lay against the table while your legs struggled to keep you standing, his hips rapidly pushing in and out of you as he chased his orgasm.

“Shit, fuckin’ tigh’ as shit.” He cursed haphazardly, his balls tightening as they threatened to burst. “C’mon take it, take it pretty girl,” he shouted as he came, deep inside of you like he promised. He fucked you through his orgasm, groaning softly before pulling out.

Your entire body shook in sensitivity, your legs threatening to give out. Daryl continued to hold you up, watching your pussy drip with his cum. He reached down to scoop it back into you, a whimper leaving your lips at the feeling.

“Dun’ wan’ this ta go ta waste now do we?” He taunted hotly into your ear, pulling your panties up and letting your dress fall over your ass. He slapped your ass playfully before pulling up his own underwear and pants, buckling his belt. “Now let’s go cuddle upstairs hm?” He chuckled lowly and scooped you up into his arms, his expression softening at your fucked out expression.

You looked up at him sleepily and nodded, pulling his head down to kiss him softly. He hummed against your lips, taking you upstairs.

“Happy birthday, Dar.”

[dragon-kazansky]

Heart of the Dreaming

Morpheus x Female Reader

Soulmate AU

You are the daughter of Rodrick Burgess. You find out about the "demon" in the basement and decide you want to see it. Things take an unexpected turn when your soulmate connection is made with the man you find down there. You are the one he has been waiting for, and you're being taken away from. Not for long. Dream will protect his soulmate.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Six - Blood and bonds

☆☆☆

The demons of Hell were all excited as they cheered. Whatever this game was, it was clearly a big deal. You had no idea what was happening. For your own comfort, you chose to watch Dream. Matthew is perched up above you. Morpheus and Lucifer stood facing one another.

He had to win. There was more than his helm on the line now. Dream had sworn to himself he would protect you. Hell could not have you.

Choronzon stood on the balcony with the helmet in his hand. Lucifer and Morpheus stood on either side of him.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Today, for your entertainment and delectation, a formal challenge."

The demons cheer.

"The challenger is Dream. Once the master of the Realm of Sleep."

The demons boo.

Morpheus turns slowly and looks at you. You look back at him. He steps away from the balcony and makes his way toward you while Choronzon announces Lucifer as the other player. The demons cheer for their ruler.

"Are you alright?" He asks softly.

"Fine." You reply shortly.

"I will not let Hell have you."

Your gaze on him softens. "You don't have to make a fuss of me. Me for the helm was probably a good deal. It must be important to you if you were willing to come to Hell for it."

"I would not trade you in this life or any other. You are my soulmate, and you shall come back to the Dreaming with me." He speaks softly. "If anything happens to me, take my sand and use it."

"No. No. Don't say that."

"Promise me," he says.

You shake your head. You find yourself reaching out and grabbing his hand. "You can't leave me. You're my only way out."

"My sand will work for you."

"I don't care about the sand. I... I just need you to be okay. Please. Don't leave me."

"Morpheus, am I interrupting a premlinary of some kind?" Lucifer asks.

"Just a little pre-game pep talk." You say. "Your majesty." You bow your head. "We came for the helm, and we're not leaving without it," you talk more to Morpheus now.

He looks at you again silently.

"We shall see," Lucifer says, amused.

You let go of his hand, and Morpheus flexes his hand slightly. He steps away from you, though reluctantly. He doesn't like the look of fear in your eyes.

He wants to keep you safe. He needs to secure your safety. You need to come back to the Dreaming with him.

"As the challenged, I set the meter and take the first move." Lucifer says.

"Very well. Make your move."

You stand there with baited breath as you watch the pair of them. Your eyes linger on the Devil. There was so much at risk here.

"I am... a dire wolf. Prey-stalking, lethal prowler."

You turn your eyes to Morpheus.

"I am a hunter. Horse-mounted, wolf-stabbing."

Lucifer grunts as they receive a wound through their body. That's the first hit. Morpheus drew blood from Lucifer. You watch carefully for the next move.

"I am a serpent. Horse-biting... poison-toothed."

Your eyes are drawn to Morpheus as the poison floods his veins. His breaths come out in short, ragged puffs. You hadn't realised how dangerous and severe this game was. This was crazy.

"I am a bird of prey. Snake-devouring, talons ripping."

The poison leaves his body. Lucifer receives three long slashes across the face. More blood is drawn.

"I am a butcher bacterium. Warm-life destroying."

Morpheus falls to his knees as his flesh appears to be eaten away. You stare in horror. Was he going to die playing this? This was horrible.

"I am a world." He says slowly. "Space-floating, life-nurturing."

His body heals. You look at him in awe. He is still able to play. You smile softly.

"I am a nova." Lucifer says. "All-exploding, planet-cremating."

Morpheus lays on the ground, his flesh scorched. That was a big hit. You can't stand this anymore. Lucifer is doing mkre damage to him, and it's starting to make you feel sick.

His eyes flick to you. He can see the worry glistening in your eyes. "I am a universe." He whispers weakly. "All things encompassing, all life embracing."

You smile softly. Perhaps there is much more to this man than you're aware of. Perhaps it isn't quite fair to judge him so quickly.

"I am anti-life. The Beast of Judgement. The dark at the end of everything."

Morpheus goes cold. He lays there, unable to lift his head. His breathing is shallow. This is the worst he's looked all game. What is he supposed to do now?

"What will you be then, Dream Lord?"

He tries to move, but he can't. You can't help yourself anymore. You rush over to him and touch him gently. "Get up," you whisper. He doesn't move. He shivers under your hands, and for a moment, you think this is it.

"Come on," you say softly. "Say something. Anything. You have to win, remember? You have to win for me."

He looks up at you through his lashes. His breath is quiet and shaky. He looks like he's dying.

"Still with us, Dream?" Lucifer asks, amused by this display.

"He is! And it's his move, Your Majesty." You say, glancing up at Lucifer. You turn back to Dream. "Come on. There has to be something."

"There are no more moves." Lucifer states. "What can survive the anti-life?"

You continue to caress his face gently. He stares at you through dark eyes.

"You can survive the anti-life," you whisper. "Dreams can survive anything. I dreamt of you. Every night. While I was locked away in my room with nothing else left, I had you. All that time, you were locked away under the house, and I didn't know, but I felt you. I had you in my dreams, and that was enough."

Your words strike something in him. He had no idea you had been dreaming about him. All that time, and he had no idea he was able to get through to you. Unintentionally, but still. You had him.

"I... am..." Morpheus gets up on his knees. You keep a hand on his back as you watch him. He looks up at Lucifer. "Hope."

Morpheus rises to his feet.

"Hope." Lucifer speaks softly.

You smile softly as you look up at him.

"Well, Lightbringer?" Morpheus asks. "It's your move. What is it that kills hope?"

Lucifer knows they have lost. They turn to the demon. "Choronzon. Give him his helm."

"No. I won't. It's mine. Please."

Mazikeen throws Choronzon off the balcony after taking the helmet from him. Morpheus approaches the demon and takes the helmet from her, thanking her in the process.

"Thank you, Lightbringer. The Ruler of Hell is honourable, indeed. I will not forget this."

"Honourable? You joke, surely." Lucifer walks closer to where you two stand. "Look out there, Morpheus. The billion Lords of Hell stand arrayed about you. Tell us. Why should we let you leave? Helmet or no, you have no power here. After all... What power have dreams in Hell?"

Morpheus smirks slightly. "You say I have no power here. Perhaps you speak truly. But to say dreams have no power in Hell... Tell me, Lucifer Morningstar, what power would Hell have if those here imprisoned were not able to dream... of Heaven?"

Lucifer is clearly seething under that calm exterior. You can see it in their eyes.

"One day, Morpheus... we shall destroy you."

Morpheus leans in close, seemingly bowing, and looks Lucifer in the eye. "Until that day, Lightbringer."

With his helm in hand, Morpheus walks away. You follow him quietly. Matthew flies by your head. The raven had been watching everything quietly. He was curious about you and his master. However, he kept his thoughts to himself for now.

You follow Morpheus out the gates and back out to the wastelands you had arrived in. You couldn't help but worry slightly. You knew Lucifer was beyond pissed off after today.

Dream was still in his battle gear. It was very fitting for him. He looked... good. It felt weird to think about it, though.

You watch as he puts his helm on.

"Can you actually see in that thing?" You ask. It was a peculiar thing. It looked like it was made out of bones...

"I can. I can see the ruby."

"Your ruby?"

"Yes. Come here." He turns to you, but you can't see his face now he wears his helm. It's rather intimidating.

You stand closer to him and watch as he takes his sand from his pocket. Matthew stands between you both, looking up at the pair of you.

Dream pours the sand into his palm, and it swirls around you both. You instantly reach put and grab his arm gently. His surprise by your action is hidden by his helm.

You arrive at a storage house. You take a look around you and find yourself no longer in Hell. You feel the tension leave your body and let go of Dream.

He looks down at his arm, where you have touched him and tries to commit the warmth of your hand to memory. You take a step away from him, and he comes back to his senses.

He leads you inside.

"I can sense it. My ruby. It's here."

He walks through the shelves and finds the glow of his ruby emitting from a crate on the shelf. He reaches out and smiles as he takes the ruby from within. He holds it up and looks at it.

"Something is wrong."

You frown and are about to ask what was wrong, but as he touches the ruby, it explodes with power in his hand and sends him flying backwards.

"Dream!"

He doesn't respond. You rush over to where he lies and tap his face a few times. "Hello? Can you hear me?"

He doesn't respond.

The door to the storage unit opens, and you hear someone enter. A man in a long coat and slippers kneels down and picks up the ruby. It doesn't seem to affect him. You watch him walk away with it.

You turn your attention to the man in your arms. "Please get up." You whisper. "Wake up..." You feel tears in your eyes.

You don't know what to do.

☆☆☆

@deniixlovezelda - @missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @meganlpie - @thoughtsfromlayla - @ladyjbrekker

@mwaaaaaugh - @bluespecs14 - @intothesoul - @lady-violet - @navs-bhat - @krahk - @oldsoulmagic

@rubyrose2014 - @lorkai - @roxytheimmortal - @star-maker-rain-dancer - @intothesoul - @gemini-mama - @whotperlinda

@dreamingblueberries - @the-shadow-of-aurora - @novavida - @blackgirlmagicforever

@permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 - @hopshusushi - @sloppyzengarden -

[liliesonpandora]

I’m a Warrior Like You

Pairing: Jake Sully x Daughter! Reader

(Gifs by World-of-Pandora)

Plot: You are Jake and Neytiri’s only daughter and youngest child. You disobey your father’s orders and leave home to join the mission where you put yourself in danger. He saves you and you have a fight when he gets home.

Warnings: violence, family conflict, angst

Note: single quotation indicate inner thoughts; double quotation indicate spoken dialogue

You and Lo’ak sat crosslegged in your family’s tent at High Camp, waiting for Neteyam to return with news from the war party. As his figure appeared at the entrance, you both got to your feet anticipating his report.

“Teyam, what’s going on?” You asked him without hesitating, curious to find out what the mission was.

He paused to take a breath after running all the way back. “Cargo train is on schedule to come through pretty soon. It’s carrying weapons and all kinds of materials. We’re gunna stop it on the route and steal as much cargo as we can before they hit us back.”

You and Lo’ak exchange a look. You both knew that hitting a cargo train was huge. They go incredibly fast and don’t do unplanned stops until reaching their destination. They wouldn’t be expecting an attack.

“When do we head out?” You ask Neteyam.

He quickly glances at his brother with an expression you don’t quite recognize. He hesitates a little with his response, which is different from the conviction he had less than a minute ago. “Um Dad’s waiting on a report from Tarsem, and then he’ll give out orders any minute now.”

You run over to the weapons shelf to grab your bow and secure it on your body. Lo’ak and Neteyam watch you and you can already tell what they are thinking without having to ask. ‘So that’s what this is about,’ you think to yourself. You speak before either one of them could say anything.“Dad is gunna let me come this time, he has to.”

“I don’t know, baby sister. Don’t get your hopes up,” Neteyam warned while giving you a sorry look. Your father rarely lets you join the war party like your brothers. You were the youngest. But you’ve been practicing your flying and hunting everyday. It was only a matter of time that he let you come on the mission. And this one was big… they would need as many eyes in the sky as possible.

“If you guys are going on this mission, then so am I.”

Lo’ak shot one more skeptical look at Neteyam and shrugged. They could think whatever they wanted, but you didn’t care. A few moments later, Jake came sprinting into the tent. His eyes scanned the area to take a look at his children, and they settled on his eldest first. “Okay, we’re moving out. Neteyam, report to Tarsem. He will put you and the other young hunters in position. Follow his orders.”

“Yes sir,” Neteyam replied with a nod before exiting the tent.

He turned to Lo’ak next. “Lo’ak you’ll be spotting from above and calling in any enemy aircrafts. You know what to do.”

‘So do I,’ you think.

“Wait for your mom’s signal and then head out, copy?”

“Copy.” Lo’ak’s eyes linger on you for a while while he is exiting the tent. You give him the slightest nod, letting him know that you would be okay. You watch him leave and then turn back to your father. He is now reaching for his rifle and checking his ammo. You wait patiently for your order, but it never arrives.

Without even looking in your direction, Jake begins to walk out of the tent. You couldn’t believe he was doing it again. ‘Theres no way he’s going to ignore me,’ you think. You run after him and clear your throat. Suddenly there was a lump that wasn’t there before. You remember that every other time up until now, you had stayed home while your parents and brothers went on missions. You never complained, only obeyed. But today was going to be different. Today you were ready, and you were certain of it.

“Um Dad, what about me?” But no response. ‘Is he too preoccupied? Or is he ignoring me?’

“Dad!” You shout, which finally gets his attention and he looks in your direction, waiting for you to speak. You can’t tell what the expression on his face is. ‘Is he annoyed?' You don't know and you don't care. His eyes travel down to your body, like he is only now noticing that you are equipped with your bow. You swallow and speak.

“What should I do? I can get in position with Lo’ak when it’s time,” you offer.

“No babygirl, stay here with your grandmother.”

“What?”

“You heard me, y/n. I don’t have time to argue with you right now, get back inside.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he interrupts before you can. “Don't make me repeat myself, you understand me?”

You said nothing, only stared at him while your bottom lip started to quiver.

“Do. you. understand me?” He said once more, but much slower and harsher. ‘What was this tone? He had never spoken to you like that before. Why was he being so mean?’ You were fuming with anger. Why was he so unwavering in his decision? You hesitated for a little, considering talking back. But you knew this wasn’t the time or place, it would only make him mad. So you swallowed your pride and answered him.

“Loud and clear,” you say through gritted teeth, making sure he knew how you felt about the situation. Without another word, he mounts his Ikran and takes flight. At this point, you are fighting back tears. You couldn't believe he would force you to stay home once again while everyone else was out fighting. But you knew one thing... there was no way you were going back inside.

Everyone had already left, and your grandmother was stationed in the healing and recovery tent. You could leave and no one would even realize you were gone. You moved swiftly because you knew that if you gave yourself more time to think, you would talk yourself out of it.

You ran to your ikran, which was already saddled up. It provided for a smooth mount. You connected your queue with hers and felt her deep breathing through tsaheylu. “Okay girl, let’s do this,” you tell her. And within seconds, you were off gliding through the air.

Lo’ak had left a good while ago, but that didn’t matter. You knew exactly where to meet and you would catch up to him in no time. You often listened in on the war party’s strategic meetings. Not only were your senses keen, but you were also good at staying hidden and evading anyone before being caught. It served you well.

You eventually spot Lo’ak and circle around, greeting him. A smile lit up his face and he looked excited to see you. You had to admit, it felt good to be out here with him; it was exhilarating.

“Y/n! Dad let you come?”

“Yeah, he gave me orders right after you left,” you lie.

His smile of excitement turns into a skeptical smirk. “Bullshit, then how come he didn’t just tell us to leave together?”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance at how quick he assumed you were lying. You thought about continuing the lie but ultimately decided against it and admitted the truth. “Alright fine, he told me to stay home. But I left anyway.”

He put his hand up to his head and groaned. “Jesus, you’re done for.”

“I’ve always done what he asked of me and this is the first time I’m doing something for me. He can’t be that mad.”

“I don’t know sis, first offense is always worse cause he expects more from you. Take it from me, a repeat offender," he warns with his palms up in the air.

You hate to admit it, but Lo’ak might actually be right about this one. You really didn’t want to disappoint your father, but you felt like you would be easily forgiven. Yeah you snuck out, but you were being safe and useful. You decided that the reward was worth the risk. “Don’t worry about me,” you tell Lo'ak.

“Okay come on, I’ve been circling the area.”

“Anything, yet?”

“Nah.”

After waiting for what seemed like five minutes, you spotted something down in the forest. “Lo’ak, AMP suits 9’ o clock.”

“Holy shit, I didn’t even see em.”

“Hurry up and call it in. Or do I have to do your job for you again?”

“Damn sis, go easy on me. Maybe Dad should have you out here."

You smiled at him proudly. You’d call it in yourself but you left your tech at home, which was an amateur move on your part. Oh yeah, and there's also the fact that you weren’t supposed to be there and your dad would kill you if he found out.

Lo’ak pressed the mic on his comms and called to your father. “Devil Dog come in, this is Eagle Eye.”

“Eagle Eye, send your traffic.”

“Got eyes on two AMP suits, carrying heavy gear.”

“What’s their position? Over.”

“About two klicks south, right past the old cave. Over.”

“On my way. Over.”

Lo'ak turned to you next. “Y/n, you should probably get out of here before Dad sees you.”

“No way, things just got exciting.”

“It’s your funeral.”

“We’re so far away from the action, it’ll be fine. I’ll leave before he-

“Eagle eye come in, this is Devil Dog.” The sound of your father's voice interrupted you.

“I read you," Lo'ak responded.

“We’re taking fire over here, I won’t make it to you. Abort the mission and get to cover!”

“Copy that!"

"Alright baby sis, we gotta go," Lo'ak said to you.

“Wait, we can do it.”

“What?”

“Dad can't get here in time, but you and I can do it.”

“I like a little adventure as much as the next guy, but that plan is actually insane.”

“It will work. You saw all that gear they were packing, it's a major jackpot. There's two of them and two of us. If we attack from above, they won't even see us coming. They won't have time to hit us back."

“I don't know about this. Usually, I'm the one doing stupid shit. Who are you?”

You ignored his joking demeanor, you were serious. “Aren't you tired of being overshadowed and ignored?”

“Yeah, I guess?”

“I don't know about you, but I wanna prove what I can do. And I know I can do this.”

He looked like he was thinking it over, going through all the scenarios in his head. And then finally he agreed. “Okay.”

“Okay?” You repeated.

“Let’s do it.” You knew you could count on him, he always had your back. The both of you began to dive down into the forest, getting closer to the targets.

“How’s your aim?” You asked him.

“Could be better.” Suddenly he was worrying you.

“That’s not what I wanted to hear, big bro.”

“Don't worry, I got this.”

“That’s more like it.”

The two of you go over the plan a few times while flying to the location. Hidden amongst the trees, you would aim your bows and take them out simultaneously as they were walking in your direction. If either of you failed, it would alert them to your position and trigger a counterattack. So you knew you couldn't fail. You took a few deep breaths, all your training had prepared you for this moment. You lined up your arrow and signaled for Lo'ak to do the same. "On me," you whispered. He nodded in agreement. Then you mouthed a countdown silently and… released.

You watched as both arrows instantaneously pierced the glass of the suits and the bodies that inhabited them. The machines, no longer having someone to control them, fell to the ground with a huge thud. You and Lo'ak looked at each other in amazement. He put a finger to his lips, telling you to stay quiet. You waited for a while in silence, wanting to make sure they were dead. When it felt safe, you jumped down from the trees, leaving your ikrans perched. Creeping up behind the machinery, you confirmed the kills. "Oh my god,” you exclaimed, in disbelief that it actually worked.

"We actually did it! Woohoo!" Lo'ak yelled while raising his arm to give you a high five. You slapped his hand with yours and pulled him in for a hug. "Hell yeah, I knew we could do it!" You cried. The smile on Lo'ak's face was big and bright.

"Okay, now let's see about the gear," he reminded you. You nodded in response. You were about to begin opening cases of weapons when you were interrupted by the loud whirring of a helicopter approaching. You looked to the sky to see where it was coming from. ‘Oh no.’

“Shit! Run back to the Ikran, go!" Lo'ak screamed.

Without another word, you took off running as fast as you could. Why the hell would you leave the ikran so far away?! You weren't thinking.

"Call Dad!" You screamed over your shoulder at Lo'ak, but you couldn't see where he was. Your vision was blurred and your legs felt like jelly from the adrenaline. An explosive hit the ground by your feet, flinging your body into the air. You hit the ground below with incredible force. And then there was just darkness.

***************************************************************

“Y/n! y/n! Baby, wake up please!” You slowly opened your eyes and your father's face came into focus.

“Dad?”

“Oh thank god, what the hell are you doing here y/n?!”

Then you remember where you were and what you did. You opened your mouth to speak, but it was difficult to talk. “I just... wanted to help.”

You moved to sit up, but dizziness overtook and there was an aching pain in your head. ‘And where was Lo'ak?’ you wondered. “Woah not so fast, I got you.” Your dad said before he scooped you up in his arms and began to run.

"Dad."

"Yes, baby."

“My head hurts.”

“You must have hit it pretty hard. But you know who I am and where you are, so that’s a good sign.”

“I’m sorry. Are you mad?”

“Never mind that. I’m gonna get you home now. Just try to stay awake for me okay?”

“Okay.” But you could already feel your vision getting blurred again, and your eyelids felt extremely heavy. The last thing you remember is your father calling your name before the darkness.

***************************************************************

You opened your eyes to the ceiling of the tent. You were lying in one of the bigger hammocks at home, and there was wrapping all over your body. You guess that's where you were wounded. You notice that your head no longer hurts like it did before. Grandmother must have healed you. You begin to sit upright. “Ma ite, you are awake," your mother said softly with a smile.

“Mom?”

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. Where’s Lo’ak?”

“He is with Neteyam, he is alright.”

“And Dad?”

“He is taking care of the aftermath of the mission, he will be home soon. You hit your head, we were so worried about you.”

“I’m sorry, mom.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to scold you. I’m afraid your father will do enough of that for both of us.”

“You don’t agree with him, do you?"

“That doesn’t matter right now, my love. You know how much worse this could have been. You are never supposed to go off on your own, even if your brother was with you.”

“I know.”

The screech of your father’s ikran echoes throughout the cave. Your heart begins to race. ‘Be strong, be strong,’ you repeat over and over in your head. Your mother gives you a concerned look before she leaves the tent to greet your father.

“Hey sweetheart, where’s y/n? Is she feeling okay?” You hear him ask her. 'So he is worried about me, that's a good sign.'

“She’s inside. She said she feels much better… Jake go easy on her for now, she’s still recovering.”

'Uh oh,' you think. Your father enters the tent and walks over to you.

“Dad.”

"You feeling better, honey?" You nod, taken aback at the question.

“What were you thinking? Do you know how dangerous that was?!"

“Yes sir."

“You deliberately disobeyed my direct order and put yourself into harms way!”

“You refuse to let me come on missions! I was just trying to show you that I can handle this! The mission was going fine, I just got ahead of myself at the end and… I messed up okay! I know that!

“There’s a reason I told you to stay home.”

“Really? What is it then?! Because whenever I ask, it seems to just be cause you said so. I have listened to you every time. I have obeyed every order from you. And the one time…”

“You’re not ready.”

“I’ve passed every test a warrior needs to pass, Dad. I am more than ready.”

“You don’t understand the gravity of what you've done. What if things were worse? I need to be prepared to get all of you out of there if something goes wrong. If I don’t even know where you are, let alone that you’re out there at all… how am I supposed to make sure you’re safe? Did you think about that?"

You said nothing.

“No, cause you didn't think at all. If you can’t even follow simple instructions at home and trust my authority, how can I expect you to do that on a mission?”

“So, you’re authority at home now too?" You don't know why you said that. You just wanted to get back at him.

“You’re grounded. If you think you’re leaving high camp in the next century, you’ve got another thing coming.” He turned to leave the tent.

‘He can't keep me here,' you think to yourself. “We’ll see,” you mutter under your breath.

He turned back towards you. “What did you just say?”

‘Fuck.’ “Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Stop treating me like a little kid.” You don't know why you kept talking back. You were just so upset, you couldn't sit there in silence like a little soldier.

“So grow up, and stop acting like one! You made your choice and now here come the consequences. But you can’t even take em like the so-called adult you wanna be. Instead, you’re throwing a tantrum cause you didn’t get your way.”

“I'm not throwing a tantrum. I’m yelling because I’m just as good as Neteyam, but you don’t respect me enough to let me show it.”

“Guess what sweetheart, you gotta give respect to get respect.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“You wanna know why Neteyam got to go on all the missions? Because he listened and acted responsibly when I asked him to. Because I know I can trust him. I can’t say the same for you.”

“Jake!” Your mother hissed at him. She knew he went too far with that one.

That hurt… a lot. “I hate you!” You screamed, tears welling up in your eyes. You looked up at the roof to slow the process but you knew that if you blinked or thought about his words, the tears would fall. You refused to let him see you cry. You refused to let him know just how much he hurt you. So you ran out of there as fast as you could.

You couldn’t even see where you were running to, but you ended up in Neteyam’s arms. He must have been there the whole time… listening to the entire argument. You tried to push him away but he held you tightly against his body until you stopped fighting him.

You let it all out, all the tears you were holding in. He held your head to his chest as you cried and ran his hand over your hair. Lo’ak appeared next. You were sure he got his ass chewed out too, but here he was to comfort you. You released from Neteyam’s hug to look at him. “You okay?” you ask, examining all the wraps on his body.

“I’m fine sis, don’t worry about me.” He wiped your tears away with his hand and tucked a few of your braids behind your ear. Neteyam’s arm was still around you, and you didn’t want him to let go. Both your brothers knew what it felt like to get scolded by your dad, so it warmed your heart that you weren’t alone right now.

“It’s okay baby sister, he won’t be mad forever. It will blow over soon,” Neteyam comforted.

“Whatever, I don’t care.” You lied, you did care. You had never had a fight with him like this. He was always so gentle with you, it felt like your special bond was breaking.

“Come on, let’s go find Spider at the lab. He’ll cheer you up,” Lo’ak offered.

“Yeah, that’s not a bad idea," Neteyam chimed in.

You appreciated that they didn't tell you ‘I told you so.’ So you nodded and agreed to go, taking Lo'ak's hand and following behind him.

“Neteyam.” You heard your father say from a distance away. It sounded like he was trying to speak quietly.

“Yeah, dad?” He replied.

“Just make sure she’s okay. And come back for dinner.”

“I will Dad, don’t worry.”

Jake probably thought you didn’t hear him say that. You could not believe he had the nerve to yell at you like that and then act like he cared.

Neteyam and Lo’ak ended up being right, Spider did get your mind off things. You told him all about today’s mission and he went on and on about how cool you were. He was a great friend to you, like another older brother… only smaller.

When you and your siblings returned home, you joined your parents for dinner. Everyone made small conversation, but you ate in silence. Your dad kept trying to catch your eye, but you tried twice as hard to avoid his gaze. You lost your appetite and could barely stomach the food, which was unfortunate because it was your favorite dish. You were sure your mom made it, especially for you.

You weren’t about to let your father think you were still affected by him, so you ate your dinner as quick as you could. You hoped that you could trick your brain into thinking you weren't feeling sick to your stomach. But that ended up backfiring because your dad reached over and refilled your bowl once it was finally empty. There was no way you could eat a second serving, so you accepted defeat and put the bowl down. Both Jake and Neytiri looked over at you in surprise. “Actually, I’m full,” you admit.

“Oh, I’m sorry sweetheart. You ate so fast, I thought you wanted more,” he explained. That was the first time you made eye contact with him all evening. He had a sad look.

“Ma ite, don’t force yourself if you can’t eat anymore,” your mom added.

“Thanks, it was delicious mom. May I be excused? My stomach is a little upset.”

“Of course, my love," she said. Your parents gave you a look of concern before Mo’at interjected. “Shall I have a look at you, my child?”

“No grandmother, I’m okay. I’m just going to go rest.”

You went off on your own for a while, trying to occupy yourself with a million different things… like sharpening your knife and continuing to bead a necklace you had been working on. You stayed away for as long as you could before accepting that you had to go home at some point. Just as you were about to enter the tent, you stopped short. Your parents were talking… about you.

“Ma Jake, you were much too hard on her," your mother said.

“I can't let her think she can talk back like that and get away with it. Her attitude is out of line.”

“Hm… I wonder where she gets it from.”

“She wants to be treated the same as her brothers but when it comes to discipline, I’m too hard on her?!”

“She is used to being your little girl. If you yell at her like that, what do you expect is going to happen?”

“Why is she so eager to go out there on missions? She’s just a kid!”

“Our kids see Toruk Makto, the great warrior and the fearless Olo’eyktan of our clan. They just want to be like you and live up to your name. Neteyam and Lo’ak were like this too. Why would it be any different for y/n?”

“She’s not ready. She’s stubborn and she doesn’t listen. I can’t have her out there, it’s too risky.”

“No, she’s headstrong and she has been blindly following your orders without question... until today."

“What?”

“I know you are upset that she disobeyed you. But you know that you cannot keep her sheltered here forever. It is not the way.”

Your father began to say something but your mother cut him off quickly and continued.

“And this is not about her not being ready. She is more than ready. This is about your fear. She is your only daughter and she’s growing up. You are afraid to lose her and that is okay. But be honest with yourself and be honest with her, or she will end up resenting you for it.”

“Fuck, I just don’t know how to do this baby. It was so much easier with her brothers.”

“She doesn’t need a sergeant Jake, she just needs her father. That’s all you need to be. Show her that you care before trying to reprimand her. Right now she’s hurt and embarrassed, and you need to go to her and make it okay.”

“You always know the right thing to say.”

“I know, I'm amazing. Now go find our daughter.”

'Shit, he's coming,' you think. And you run as fast and as quietly as you possibly can. You went to a hideaway that you made with your brothers. The adults weren't supposed to know about it, but they did anyway. You were sure he was going to follow you there. You pick up the jewelry you were working on before and act busy, facing away from the entrance of the hideaway.

You hear him approach. “Sweetheart? You in here?” You don’t respond, wanting to hurt him like he hurt you.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you like that, it wasn’t okay.”

You’ve been replaying that fight over and over again in your head all day and trying to hold it together. Now that he was addressing it directly, you felt like you wanted to cry. ‘No, not now please. Not here in front of him’ you told yourself. You could hear the leaves on the ground crunch beneath his feet. He had entered the hideaway, but you couldn’t see because your back was turned.

“Please turn around, I just wanna talk about it,” he pleaded. He sounded desperate but you wouldn’t give in that easily.

“What is there to talk about when you won’t listen? It’s your way or no way, I should know that by now.” Your voice was trembling, you were so anxious now that you were being confronted by him. You couldn't hold back the tears.

“I’m ready to listen, okay? I promise.” Based on what you overheard between your parents, you knew he was being sincere. But you wanted him to suffer just a tad bit more.

“Come on, I’m trying here. Please look at me?”

But you couldn’t stay mad for long, no matter how hard you tried. You turned on your heel and faced him finally, but your eyes stayed at your feet. “Babygirl,” he called to you. His voice was different this time… softer and almost broken. When he called you that, it felt like suddenly everything would be okay again. And all you wanted to do was run to him.

You rose your head to look up at him. At the sight of your tear-stained face, he instantly dropped to his knees and opened his arms without saying a word. “Daddy!” you cried while running to him. Your little body hit him with so much force, he almost fell backward. But he held you tight, stabilizing the both of you and placing kisses all over your cheek and temple. Your crying became audible, but it sounded muffled against his body. It was like you were letting out all that you’ve been holding in today. It’s been such a long day.

“Shh, I’m here. I got you now,” he soothed you softly while running his hands over your hair. Your airways felt tight and it was difficult to breathe normally while you cried this hard.

Jake could feel you hyperventilating against him, so he motioned for you to take deep breaths with him. When your breathing returned to normal, he lifted you off the ground and began to walk over to the corner; taking a seat with you on his lap. The tears kept flowing while you spoke.

“I’m sorry… I talked back to you,” you cried.

“I know baby, it’s okay. I’m sorry too.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. I said a lot of mean things to you back there, and I wish I could take it all back.” He cupped your cheek with his hand and the warmth of his skin was so comforting.

“I’m sorry I said that I hated you, I was just so mad at you. I didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t. But even if you did hate me, I’d still love you.”

“Even after what I did today?” You looked at him with surprise but then lowered your gaze down to your lap, suddenly feeling ashamed.

“Look at me,” he ordered. His voice was stern but still soft, so you obeyed.

“There is nothing you could say or do that would make me stop loving you. No matter how upset I am, or how much we argue with each other… my love for you will never change. Because you’re my daughter, and I love you unconditionally. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Now tell me what was going through your head today.”

“I just wanted to prove myself to you and show you that I could do it. And I know now how dangerous it was to go without informing anyone. And how dangerous it was to attack without orders. But Dad… we did it! We took out those guys so fast. We just weren’t prepared for the counterattack and everything got screwed up.”

Jake let out a deep sigh before speaking. “Babygirl, you don’t have to do things like this to prove yourself to me. Although you’re younger than Neteyam was when I let him on his first mission, you surpassed him in skill when he was this age.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“Then I don’t understand. You know I can do it, so why won't you let me go?” Your mother said it was cause he was scared, you knew that now.

“Because I’m selfish.”

“What?”

“You’re still young, but you’re growing up so fast. I wanted to shield you from this war as much as I could. But it was foolish of me to think that I could keep you from being anything less than what you are. You’re a warrior like me. That’s what you’re meant to be, as long as you want to be.”

“Do you mean that?”

“Mhm. Your mom and I were talking it over and I couldn’t understand why I became so angry that you would even think of doing something like this. And she said it was because I was scared of losing my little girl. And she was right.”

You placed your head on your dad’s chest, wanting to comfort him like he was doing for you. He looked down at you and smiled, then continued to speak.

“When I saw you with your bow today, all dressed for the mission… I just wasn’t ready to send you out there. And when Lo’ak called me and told me that you were there with him, it felt like my heart had stopped beating. Thank goodness Lo’ak was fine when I got there, but to see you lying there unconscious… was one of the scariest moments of my life.”

He must have felt your tears on his chest because he looked down again. “Daddy, I’m really sorry that I put us in danger today. I didn’t want to make you and mom scared. I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, y/n. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset by telling you all of this. All that matters is that you’re safe now.”

“Thanks for saving us."

“I’ll always come and save you kiddo. Anyway, I want you to know that you are ready. It was me that wasn’t ready to let you go.”

You took a deep breath and you felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. You could breathe again. “I feel like I’ve been fighting to be seen by you. Trying to live up to not only you, but Lo’ak and Neteyam as well. It was so hard, Dad.”

“I know baby, you can stop fighting now. You’ve worked so hard. You have exceeded my expectations, and you make me proud every day. I see you.”

Once you hear these words, you are overwhelmed with emotion. You started to believe you would never hear your father say this. You hug him even tighter and you feel his strong and steady arms around you.

“Will you forgive me for how I acted?” He asked.

“Of course I will, I love you.”

“I love you more.” He gave you another kiss on your forehead.

“Wait, this means I’m not grounded anymore right?”

He chuckled. “You are no longer grounded. But don’t think you can get away with that little attitude in the future.”

“And I can go on missions from now on?”

“For now, you’ll go on the ones I let Lo’ak go on. But you know you can’t pull today’s shit again.”

“I know.”

“You guys will follow orders, and always have your communication devices on you. No rogue missions, no impulsive decisions. Any slip ups from either of you, and you’re staying home. Copy?”

“Copy.”

“Good girl. How’s your head and stomach feeling?”

“So much better now.”

“Good. Oh and for what it's worth... I saw those AMP suits in the forest and your aim was spot on. We got the gear too, so thank you for that.”

“Yes! I knew it!”

“Alright alright, you got your skills from your mom…”

“And my attitude from you?” You cut in.

He laughed lightly. “I was gonna say confidence, but yeah that too. You’re definitely my kid,” he said while messing up the top of your hair.

“Dad!” You groaned.

“Come on, I’ll change your wraps before bed. I’m sure your grandmother’s probably sleeping by now.” And he knelt down in front of you so you could hop onto his back for ride like when you were little. You climbed on, wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned down to whisper in his ear.

“Now you gotta redo my hair too.”

“Alright, I got myself into that one. Let’s get outta here.”

He carried you out of the hideaway and you made your way back to your tent. A father and his little warrior.

[navybrat817]

The Pull of Gravity

Pairing: Shifter!Bucky Barnes x Shifter!Female Reader Summary: Bucky has a chat with Steve about his new friend. Word Count: Over 2.3k Warnings: Shifters, flirting, tension, teasing, slight possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: More Wolfie and Little Red! ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby (thank you!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Dividers by the amazing @firefly-graphics .❤️Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

One of the most important rules of the eastern territory was that nothing and no one was allowed to disrupt the sanctuary of the land. It was a place for Bucky and the other shifters in the pack to shut out the rest of the world and be themselves without judgment or fear. They deserved a home with peace and security.

Watching you in the garden, he wondered if you were going to shake things up.

What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t know you. Other than that you're a little badass fox who can help in getting rid of a body. And spirited and beautiful and-

"Talk," Steve said.

Bucky raised an eyebrow at his best friend's authoritative tone. Growing up, Steve's growl was worse than his bite. That was only because he was so small. A late bloomer, his wolf form was one of the largest and strongest he had ever seen. And he was an affectionate punk.

"I'm not a dog. I don't speak on command."

Steve sighed, running a hand through his blond hair. "Would you mind explaining why there's a fox playing in our flowers? I'm sure there's a good reason and I'd love to hear it," he said, not as entranced with you as he was.

Good. One of us needs to be logical.

It took a moment for Bucky to respond since he was too busy watching you roll around, bringing a small smile to his face as your red fur blurred through the petals. “A hunter was tracking her near the border of our land and she handled it before I stepped in,” he said.

"The body?"

"Buried and we covered our tracks," he told him. Even if someone managed to find the man, no one would be able to trace it back to them. It wasn't the first time they had to put someone in the ground.

“She was alone?” Steve asked curiously. Bucky nodded in confirmation. “What was she doing there?”

“The hunter was killing smaller animals in the western territory, so she lured him here. She figured a larger creature could handle him if she couldn’t,” he explained, his gaze soft as he watched your tail flick.

"Smart strategy, if not dangerous. What if you hadn't stumbled upon her? She could’ve been hurt," he said.

Bucky had a hard time not smiling as you sat up to stare at his friend. "I think she can handle herself," he admitted, as much as he didn't want to. He liked to think you needed him in some capacity.

"Did she follow you here?"

“No,” he answered, clearing his throat a little as he crossed his arms. “I may have asked her to come here.”

Steve gave his friend a thoughtful look. He was a man who thrived on doing the right thing, but he also didn’t want to compromise the safety of the place they made their home. "Why did you do that?"

Bucky glanced at you before he looked away. “I offered to get her safely back to the border after we buried the body, but…” he trailed off as he thought back to the conversation he had with you.

"Well, that's that," you said, brushing the dirt off your hands. You weren't afraid to get your hands dirty as the two of you buried the man, along with his bow and arrows. "Finished up quicker than I thought."

"Not eager to leave, are you?" he asked casually, wiping his head with the back of his hand. He wasn't ready to take you back.

"As much fun as it is to put hunters in the dirt,” you winked, stretching your arms above your head with a hum. He wasn’t sure how he managed to concentrate without staring at your chest. “I figured you'd want to lead me back so I can be on my way and you can go home quicker."

"The shifters I live with are used to me being out late," he said, stretching a bit himself. "I'm sure they'd like to meet you."

"I doubt that," you said, looking behind you. "Ready?"

Bucky's brow furrowed. "Why wouldn't they want to meet you?" he asked.

"Because I'm a stranger who killed a hunter in your land," you said, your expression blank. "Can we just go?"

"Okay," he said, ignoring the sinking feeling of you brushing him off. He understood that some foxes by nature preferred to be on their own, but he thought it would be nice for you to meet others like yourself. "So, what is your way once you get past the border?"

“Why? You planning on paying me a visit?” you smiled. "Take a roll on the dirt with me?"

In more ways than one.

"I'd offer a roll right now if we didn't need to get going," he smirked. As much as he didn't want to, he could see you itching to leave. “You said you came from the west, but is that where you’re living?” he questioned, curious to know even though you had no reason to give him an answer.

“It’s where I’ve been staying, but I'll likely move on soon.”

Bucky’s stomach dropped, hoping you wouldn't go too far away. “When are you going to leave?”

“Why are you asking so many questions?” you snapped, putting your hands on your hips. You didn’t back away or appear guarded, but the slight defense in your voice gave away that you didn’t want him prying. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

Bucky shrugged a shoulder, but it felt anything but casual. “You said you were used to going it alone, but maybe I want to make sure you’re safe. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yeah, it is. Because it's always ulterior motives or people looking out for themselves,” you said, kicking a bit of dirt toward the grave with a flash of fury in your eyes. He wondered what happened to give you that mindset, but knew it wasn’t the time to ask. “I’ve been on my own for years and I’ve been just fine, thank you."

"The thing is, you don't have to be," he said, taking a slow step forward as surprise filled your beautiful eyes. He had a feeling that if he moved too quickly or invaded your space, you’d run. And it wouldn’t be the fun kind of chase. "I don't know your story and you don't owe it to me, but I do want to help if you need it."

"I didn't mean to snap at you, okay?" you said, your tone softer as your arms dropped to your side. He kept still when you moved close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating from your body. "I can sense that you aren't a bad guy and I appreciate that you want to help, but I’m not your responsibility, Wolfie.”

“I know you’re not,” he said, his hands itching with the need to touch you. “But maybe I’m not ready for you to go yet, Little Red.”

"Why is that?" you whispered, placing your hand on his cheek as his heart raced, your scent invading his senses once again.

Bucky couldn't say he felt a pull toward you. It would sound crazy. He had to word it carefully. "I just want to get to know you a bit more and, maybe, there's a part of you that wants to get to know me, too."

Your soft expression shifted to something a bit more sultry. "Not ready to let me go and you haven't even had sex with me," you teased.

Bucky didn't kiss you, but he did lean in close enough to feel your breath mingle with his. "If we have sex, you won't want to let me go."

Cocky, but true.

"I knew I liked you, Wolfie," you smiled, your playful demeanor back in full swing. "And maybe I wouldn't mind seeing your place, if you're really offering. It doesn't mean I'm staying though."

Maybe I can convince you to stick around.

"Let's go then."

"But what?" Steve asked.

"I just thought it would be better if she stayed here for the night instead of letting her go off by herself," Bucky replied, not wanting to say more on the subject as you continued to stare at them.

"But she doesn't want to meet the others?"

"Maybe after she gets some rest," Bucky said, though you weren't acting tired at all. "I'm trying not to overwhelm her."

“Does she realize we’re talking about her?”

Bucky smiled when you barked, loudly. "Yeah, she knows."

The blonde held up his hands when you barked again. “I mean no harm. I’m just trying to get some answers.”

You stretched before you trotted over to Steve’s feet and looked up at him, not blinking as you assessed him. Bucky wondered what was going through his friend's head. The guy was massively built, like him, but you stared him down like his size didn't matter.

"I'm Steve. It's nice to meet you," he said, reaching a hand out to pet you before he decided against it.

Smart move.

Seemingly satisfied with what you saw after a moment, you went to Bucky and carefully climbed up his leg and side. Steve’s eyebrows shot up, not bothering to hide his surprise as you gracefully curled in the brunette’s arms. It had to be quite the sight.

"Are you not going to shift?" Bucky asked.

You yawned and closed your eyes like you didn't hear him.

Why aren’t you showing Steve your human side? Are you nervous to meet everyone? Or are you just being careful?

“I’m not just going to stand here and hold you while we talk, Little Red,” he said, a slight growl in his voice. Instead of jumping out of his arms or cowering, you huffed and lightly nipped his forearm. It didn’t hurt. If anything, he liked it. “Fine. I’ll hold you.”

Steve covered up his laugh with a small cough when you nuzzled against Bucky with a satisfied hum. “Little Red, huh?”

“It’s what she said to call her. Well, what I can call her,” Bucky said, stating your real name.

"She seems to like you," Steve mused.

You gently barked, a happy sound, and moved your head to his chest.

"I like her, too," he said, running a hand along your fur as he glanced down at you, your eyes crinkling as you stared back.

Fucking adorable and probably two seconds away from biting my chin.

"And she's just staying for the night?"

Bucky didn't give him an answer as you tilted your head. He didn't want to say "yes" and make you think you weren't welcome. He also didn't want to say "no" and pressure you to stay.

As if you sensed Bucky's dilemma, you sprang free from his hold and landed gracefully on your paws. He stepped back to give you room when your bones began to shift, your red fur gone within moments as your naked human form appeared. Steve averted his eyes as you stood, the gentleman shifter he was since he didn't know you. He was thankful he didn't have to growl at his best friend to look away.

Even though I have no claim over you.

"Nice to meet you, too, Steve. I like this place," you said, giving Bucky an amused glance when Steve continued to look off in the distance. "Will he not look at me? I'm sure it's nothing he hasn't seen before."

"Just being polite," he said.

"I'm not after you bit me," Bucky said, wondering how much lust was in his eyes when he saw your nipples harden in the breeze.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his heated gaze. "Relax. It was a love bite and you enjoyed it."

Just a little.

"And, Steve, I'm curious. Will anyone get mad if Wolfie and I fuck in the flowers?" you asked, giggling when he chortled.

"Um. Natasha might ask that you put new seeds in if you make a mess of it."

Really, Steve?

Glancing below Bucky's waist, you smirked, a hint of arousal in the air. "Oh, I'm sure it'll be a mess. And I doubt he'll have any trouble filling a hole with seed," you said. Before Bucky could drag you over and pin you down, you turned and went back to the garden with a swish of your hips. "But maybe later. For now, I'm making you both flower crowns."

Fucking tease. You're going to drive me crazy.

"I'm not wearing a flower crown!" Bucky called after you.

"Yes, you are!" you called back.

Yes, I am.

"She's, um, bold," Steve commented, clearing his throat again as he finally turned his head. "And did she call you Wolfie?" he asked, not covering up his laughter this time when Bucky snarled.

"Tell Sam and I'll rearrange your face," he threatened.

"I'd like to see you try," Steve said as his laughter died down. "She can stay as long as she wants."

"Just like that?" Bucky asked. Was he sure? He knew it was a lot to have someone unfamiliar there.

"Just like that," he nodded. "You like her and I trust your judgment. And, like I said, she seems to like you, too. I have a feeling that doesn't come easy to her."

"Thanks," Bucky said. It meant a lot that he was willing to take a chance on you. "And I have that same feeling."

"I wonder why that is."

Bucky watched as you chose a few flowers, your eyes narrowed in concentration as you made a crown. "I don't know, but I hope she knows she's safe here."

His home was his kingdom. He had freedom and his friends who were practically family. But as you looked over at him with a smile, he didn't realize he was missing a queen to run along beside him.

Until now.

Oh, these two. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[yaut-jaknowit]

Your Crown is Slipping

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 3967

Summary: After the problem with Dwainet, new issues rise from the clan. Including those that don't think We'ar-ow is who they need. We'ar-ow isn't afraid but has to juggle their new life now. People are starting to question We'ar-ow's leadership. Which has to draw her away from her cabin and leaving you alone more. You see the way We'ar-ow is struggling and speaks with her.

Author Note: Uh oh. There's unrest in the clan guys. How's We'ar-ow gonna balance while dealing with you? Ehehehe

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

All it takes is one person to start rumors. Then, rumors will fly like a wildfire across the entire clan, destroying your integrity. Everything you’ve known will be uprooted by a single person. A person who wants to take away the precious little ooman they’ve cast to side. Discarded nothing more than rotten meat. An action that should’ve cost him his life but you, sweet ooman, begged for his life to be spared.

When she looked into those pleading eyes, she could not say no. Now, it was returning with a bite that hurt and caused more trouble. You were worth it. But his head should’ve been hung above her bedroom door, warding anyone off. Only if she didn’t fall for your soft cries.

Like any problem, they can be solved. The head of said problem was rooted in Dwainet. A problem We’ar-ow was going to get rid of.

She chuffed lowly to herself in the empty of her throne room. The door closed and locked tight while she had time to think in the lonely space.

Now, without the hunt of figuring out who had hurt you, We’ar-ow had changed her direction. At anytime she wasn’t in her quarters, she had the screen on her gauntlet pulled up with the cameras. Always watching and ensuring your safety. Though halfway across the ship from you, she had Xilomere stay nearby while she preformed her duties.

Today, she hadn’t even offered to take you with her. You had declined the last three times in the last week. We’ar-ow easily read the terror in your eyes. So, today, she left you behind to sleep in the comfort of her bed. The dark bags under your eyes growing only more every day. She knew what that was from and didn’t like it one bit.

Every time she returned to her dwelling, she would pull you to her room and sleep earlier than usual. You needed it. Every time, you would fight against her only to come to the conclusion it was pointless. Then, you were out. To sleep until the morning rose on the ship. We’ar-ow stayed up, more vigilant than ever. She got the necessary amount of hours to keep her functioning.

Curled up on the comforts of her large bed was your still sleeping form. Eyes still closed, chest slowly rising and falling in a deep sleep. One that you needed. She hated the fact that scum was disturbing your rest over his hatred of you. Dwainet lost his precious mate and realized his mistake too late.

You’re hers. Through and through.

A rap of knuckles on the two imposing doors brought We’ar-ow’s attention back to reality. All she gave was grunt. The screen on her gauntlet still pulled up so she would not lose a moment of you. Dwainet already has shown off his hand of tricks, which could include unlocking her doors. She doesn’t fully know who sides with Dwainet’s beliefs.

It needs to be squashed before the spark can grow. She’s worked far too hard to keep this clan peaceful.

The door revealed Dunkot, the head of security. His grey body moved into the room. A soft click sounded next as he strolled over to the base of the stairs. He knelt down on one knee and bowed his head fully. The hunter knew of his mistake and was attempting to redeem the entirety of his title. How could he allow this to happen, to let this slip past him? Her pet was injured because of it.

Her steely gaze was set upon his knelt form. “What news have you brought to me?” she snapped at him, voice firm.

Dunkot returned to a stand and yet doesn’t grow the courage to find her eyes. “The breach in the system has finally been patched. The corrupted data has also been recovered. Night vision was able to capture the attack,” he explained and kept his gaze down cast.

“And those who side with Dwainet during this revolution?” We’ar-ow eyed the grey Yautja closely.

He cleared his throat and swallowed thickly. “I have removed them from rotation and put them in the brig, including Dwainet.” A pregnant paused settled in the air. We’ar-ow notice immediately he had more to say. “If I may, Monarch…” She dipped her head. “Why go through all this trouble over a ooman? He wants it dead. Why not jettison it off the ship? That-“

Before the stupid male could utter another word, We’ar-ow flew down the steps and swallowed his throat in one hand. Due to her larger frame as a female, she pulled him off the ground and held him there, choking him out. He mandibles flared out with a roar that shook the very ground. “That is my pet! That ooman is mine.”

Worst than a dry jungle fire, her eyes were alit with unruly rage.

The Yautja was at her mercy. She could snap his neck if she so pleased. He didn’t want further put himself in harms way by spewing shit from his mouth. An apology would only make things worse.

“I let him win. What kind of message do you think that’ll send to the clan? That I’ll roll over at the misfortune of a male who believes he can best a Monarch. I earned this title,” she growled into his face, ready to tear his features off. “I will not let go until it kills me, and I join Cetanu.”

“Yes, of course, Monarch. You are right,” he agreed with her, anything to let the crushing grip on his windpipe to be let up. She scoffed and released him. The male crumpled to his knees and coughed, rubbing at the new bruise that’ll appear.

A heat glare was set on Dunkot. We’ar-ow shooed him off. “Go. Send me the video as well.” To save himself from further embarrassment and attack, he scrambled away from the Monarch. Out of the room and down the hall he disappeared.

With a huff, We’ar-ow marched back up the stairs and collapsed back into her throne. The room once more empty to any living being. Her gaze returned to the screen on her gauntlet. Her eyes snapped wide at the lack of your form on her bed. Immediately, she flipped between the different screens to find you.

In the kitchenette, bent over and searching through the ice box, there you were. The tightness in her chest loosen. She relaxed into her throne once more and gazed at your form. All safe and sound in her quarters.

The peacefulness was interrupted by a pop from her messages. Dunkot. A video file. We’ar-ow could feel her gut burn and twist at the same time before even opening the file. It would take every cell in her body not to march down to the brig and tear apart that scum for laying a hand on her pet. Once she has her evidence compiled, she’ll set up a court date. Then, he’ll be stripped of his title and deemed a bad blood. Where any Yautja is welcomed to hunt him. But it’ll be her to remove his head from his body. Then, she’ll offer the head to you.

The way her scales crawled with rage she’s never dwelled to before was new. One look at the Monarch had anyone, male or female bolting out of the way. No one dared to stay in the same hallway as her while she marched her way through.

Even as she smashed her code in and entered her quarters, she didn’t stop. We’ar-ow snatched your confused form off of the couch like before and stomped into her room. The bed was welcoming. Your body was thrown once more on the pelts. You weren’t given a second to comprehend the situation before her weight was suffocating you.

Your limbs flailed about, slapping and smacking her, attempting to push her off. It was feeble thought but with all the air pushed off of your lungs, you weren’t thinking straight. “We’ar-ow!” you gasped out with the last bit of air you had.

That was able to snap the giant female out of her shadowed thoughts. She lifted her weight off of you and onto her elbows on either side of your head. Her head was quick to bury its way into the crook of your neck.

Now able to breathe, you heaved for oxygen before putting your hands on her chest and pushing. She didn’t budge, not that you thought she would. It was a good try. “What’s gotten into you?” you questioned, voice disturbing the silence that filled the room. She’s never acted in such a way before that it concerned you more than you thought it should.

Sharp fangs pressed into your fragile skin. Any more pressure would cause them to sink into the fragile flesh. You tensed up, afraid her kindness to you was all a rouse.

They never went further. “We’ar-ow,” you shakily said, heart beginning to thunder in your ears. The pink Yautja moved the fangs and dragged them over the column of your throat. You swallowed at the feeling and laid still under her. At her will.

“He is in the brig,” she finally announced. In the low light, your brows furrowed. Not that she saw. Before it hits you who she’s talking about: Dwainet. You shuttered, nails digging into her back.

“Okay?” you responded, confused on why she’s acting this way if he’s locked away. It doesn’t mean you’re safer by any means though. There were thirteen others that stood on his side during the confrontation. Who knows how many more are out there, lurking in the shadows, such as he did.

The fangs pulled away. Her piercing gaze looked deep into your eyes. “Will you come to the throne room tomorrow?" You huffed. You don’t know why she’s so adamant for you to join her. It puts you at risk. Here, it’s at least safer. Three doors to keep you from the outside world and the dangers that fill it.

“No.” You weren’t going to beat around the bush. “Why do you want me to join you so badly? Want to watch one your clan members rip off my head?” Despite your concern, though waning, you felt anger about the whole situation.

A threatening snarled vibrated your whole body. “You are safe.” Now, that irked you. If only you could push her off and be in a more equal playing ground. But no. She still hovered above you and not giving you room for escape.

“He can not hurt you while in the brig.” This again.

A soured expression passed over your features. You tried to shove the giant off of you again but she didn’t even flinch. It felt like attempting to move a brick wall. “And the others? They’re still out there, hunting me for him. My ex-mate wants me dead for some fucking reason.”

Stinging tears prickled the corner of your eyes. You looked away from her, head turned to the side. We’ar-ow pinched your chin and forcefully turned your head. “You’re mine.” Your face fell into a deadpanned expression.

“Oh, wow. Yeah, that saves me from the fact that a group wants my head.” Your seething anger only growing further as she tried to dismiss the danger of you leaving this room. “I’ve already known your species is only cruel and harsh. No need to rub salt in a festering wound.”

Your heart ached at your own words, disliking the fact that came from you. She’s not cruel. She’s not harsh. Not to you.

The Yautja started to purr softly. “No, don’t do that!” You gave another shove at her, even using your knees into her stomach. That got her to budge but not enough to remove her off of you. “Get off!” She raised a brow at you. It was stupid to demand things of her when she’s the one in charge of every aspect of your life.

Okay, well. That’s not true. But she is the Monarch and you’re just her lowly pet. That she’s fighting for somehow.

We’ar-ow leaned up on her knees, towering over you lying form. You scrambled the moment you had to get to your feet, standing on the bed. Even on her knees, you didn’t reach over her head. Her purr gone.

“I’ve regretted every moment I’ve been on this damn ship. From the moment I even met Dwainet back on earth. I want to go home, back to safety where I’m not being hunted down by someone who I loved. Dwainet was my mate, we shared a lot with each other!” you shouted at her and pointed a finger into her chest.

If you were clear in the head, you might’ve reformed yourself into the timid, shy creature she knew you as. Too terrified to deal with even looking her in the eye. But this, this was completely different.

A huffed sounded from the Yautja in front of you. That only made your anger hit an all time high. Flushed in the face, heated like a flame, you spilled secrets not meant for her ears. “And that’s why I’m planning my fucking escape!” Your voice echoed back at you in the limited space.

All you could hear was the pounding in your ears of your own heart trying to escape. You slapped a hand over your mouth and stumbled backwards, nearly falling off the bed.

The moment you saw her move, your instinct drove you to flight. You sped off of the bed in a flurry of flailing limbs for the only exit. It didn’t take more than two steps for your back to be pressed against a warm surface, trapped all over again.

Hot tears skirted down your face as you struggled against her. A futile attempt to release the hold she has on you. She was going to kill you. End it all. All this trouble you’ve caused. You just spat and disrespected her entirely. This was it. She was going to end you.

Yet, the killing blow never came. You slowly turned your head to look at her. Her facial expression was no different. “I know.”

She knows.

We’ar-ow knows.

Your jaw dropped. “You know?” you whispered the confirmation of an earthshattering discovery. How does she know? How long? Why hasn’t she tried to stop you? Punish you? She let you continue to plan this escape this entire time while knowing your idea.

“Yes. I have known.” She nodded her massive head, long tresses swaying with the movement.

“Why didn’t you stop me?!” You raised your voice again.

“I know a lot of things about you my dear ooman. You will not leave. You are mine.” A hand cradles your chin and forces your head up, exposing the soft tissue of your throat. One claw could spill your life essence and leave you drowning in it. But she does not go for the kill.

You rapidly shake your head. No! You swore this off. Swore off the hurt that would come if this were to happen again. You would not love again. Not her. You’re just her pet. That’s why she cares. The only reason she cares.

There were no more words to be said. You cast your gaze to the ceiling, unable to will yourself to look her in the eye. Anything to stop yourself from bawling out and curling into a ball on the floor at her feet.

Now, there was no escape from this hell, from this torture Dwainet brought you to.

“I will keep my ooman safe. I promised you that. There are cameras in every room, so when I am not in my quarters, you are watched over. I will keep you safe,” she reiterated for the last time. She wanted to get it into your thick skull you are to stay. Stay with her. “And your tablet. It is connected to my gauntlet. I see everything you have looked up.”

We’ar-ow leaned down to press her closed mandibles to your throat. “Maybe one day, I will teach you to fly a ship. Until then, you are to stay. Stay where I can protect you. Dwainet will face his crimes. I will quell this unrest like when I first was crowned Monarch. Everything will return to normal with you at my side, my ooman.”

Sharp tusks raked across feeble flesh, leaving behind goosebumps in their wake. You shuttered at the feeling, unsure if you liked or to fight the feeling growing more in the pit of your stomach.

After a pregnant pause had filled the air for longer than comfortably, you placed a hand on her shoulder. We’ar-ow stopped every movement in her body, waiting. “Will you tell me about how you became Monarch?” you asked, trying to change the subject. You were afraid on where this might take you if you didn’t stop it. It wasn’t a path you were willing to take a risk on. Not when fresh cuts still bled your weak heart.

Her blazing orange eyes searched through yours before casting to the side. A grunt surged through her vocal cords. We’ar-ow pulled away from you, stealing her heat back. With a motion with her head towards her bed, she stalked over to it but stopped. The alien waited patiently to follow her commands.

With nothing better to do, you shadowed behind her and crawled onto the sheets. You don’t know what the creature wanted from you and sat there, looking up at her.

She looked down at your smaller frame before kneeling onto the mattress again. All it took was a singular hand to push you onto your back. Then, she was on top of you, smothering you with her weight. This time, she was mindful of how much pressure was too much. Just enough to feel the slightest struggle to gather air back into your lungs.

The alien felt like a weighted, warm blanket. Forcing herself between your legs so they would either lay limp or wrap around her hips. Her alien face was buried back into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent. A need after the day she endured so far away from you.

“You want to know about me?” If you didn’t know any better, it sounded like she was… teasing you. You tensed up underneath her, nails digging into her shoulders. She purred a laugh into your skin. “Do you know what it takes or the process of becoming a Monarch?”

All it took to answer her question was a simple head shake. You could feel her roll her eyes. “Of course, that scum never taught a thing about his culture. Typical.” You nearly snorted if it wasn’t for the reminder of the whole situation. One she either purposefully or not dragged you from.

“As you know, Monarchs are the leader of their clan with a council team. Like… a check in the system. The last Monarch nearly took down this clan if it wasn’t for the council standing up and bringing her down.” We’ar-ow shifted, still between your legs but now on her knees; nearly folding you into yourself. “When a Monarch either steps down or dies, a mourning process begins with the need to search out a new one.”

Fangs raked across your neck, leaving behind heat in their wake. You shuttered at the feeling, eyes drifting close. “It’s a month-long process. Any female is welcomed to step up and take the challenge. The old council leads the tournament, conducting the challenges for them to overcome.”

“Those who step into the ring have but one come to their death. Last Yautja standing wins the title, proving they deserve the title. It’s not one given but won.”

“As for the court, the newly crowned Monarch is allowed to either choose to keep the old council or pick new members. Many choose to pick their own, filled with people they know personally and trust. I, myself, stemmed off and kept the last court. One of my sisters is part of it. I knew many of them before I earned my new title. I preferred to learn about them and grow new bonds then having to decide who would be good for the needed positions.”

Somehow, the alien was able to shift her knees further under your lower back. You were pushed more against her fetal positioned body. Even if you minded, not that you did, there was not a chance to push the hunk of alien off of you. You huffed, amused at her antics.

While your hands rested on her shoulders, you noticed the tension under them, despite being a thickly corded beast. You tilted your hands and dug your thumbs along the countless knots filling her muscles on her shoulders.

It would kill you to say this but the way she turned into putty in your hands was… adorable. You melted at her reaction, not seeing the dangerous creature she had to be.

“By god’s grace. You’re incredibly tense,” you muttered and continued the same motion, forcing the knots to dissipate under your nimble digits. We’ar-ow purred louder than you’ve ever heard. A sound that could defeat you in seconds.

Before you could realize what you were saying, you dragged your hands down her biceps. “Do you want a back massage?” The rational side of you brain suppled it was like a payment for keeping you safe.

That was all.

Her sputtered before amping back up, face burying further into your neck. “What makes you think I need one?” The tone was teasing, allowing for bicker to rise. The same two fangs pressed into feeble skin, testing the limit of pressure. What would be too much to draw blood? Further marking you as hers besides her own Monarch symbol on the back of your neck.

Your hands return to her shoulders. “You feel tenser than a sphertine belt for a car.” She rested more weight on you and made it harder once more to breath properly. Not that you could do much to battle her.

When a confused trill sounded from her throat, you would’ve face palmed. You still haven’t learned they don’t under metaphors, at least not ones like that. “You’re just really tense. Do you want one or not?” You were growing embarrassed at the fact you were offering such a thing to her. A creature who could tear your skull from your body if she so pleases.

The pressure draped across the top of your body was removed, allowing you to fully breath. Her giant body moved to lay on her stomach next to you. Her arms crossed while resting her jaw on them. She looked comfortable as she gazed at you from her spot.

“Well?” she rumbled and motioned her head towards her back.

Despite offering, you were stunned she was letting you. Even you knew showing your back and laying down like she has was an extremely trustful action. You swallowed thickly before getting up onto your knees, knelt at her side. We’ar-ow jerked her head up again in the same motion as before. Your eyes snapped wide. She wanted you to get on her back.

Yeah… it would make the job easier but that? You gnawed on your bottom lip before timidly crawling on top of her, straddling her wide hips. It was a stretch to settle comfortably. We’ar-ow just waited.

Every next movement was slow as you started at the top of her torso, fingers massaging her shoulders. “T-tell me if I do something wrong?” you sputtered, terrified I might push my luck even with her permission.

In return you got a deep groan as the Yautja snuggled deeper into the mattress, content. It encouraged you to keep going, fulfilling your offer till the end.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

[ghostwise]

“As a promise” kiss for Hamal and Zevran? 🥺 pls?

“Antiva is like any other Andrastian nation,” Zevran said as they were packing to leave; packing lightly, for the life they were embarking on together would be full of hardship and danger. “We will not be permitted to carry weapons.”

“Obviously that never stopped you,” Hamal said, brow raised.

“Certainly not! You see, for the Crows, the authorities are more than willing to look the other way. A curious custom, though I understand there are precedents. Ironic, isn’t it, that we are setting off to do away with it?”

As he spoke, Zevran buckled a scabbard into place. He tightened the leather straps, making sure the hilt was easily accessible as well as hidden. Once secured, he grinned up at Hamal, and took a moment to admire the sight. “Comfortable?”

“Not at all,” Hamal scoffed.

Zevran kissed him. “You do not pass for a Crow.”

With that he turned away, fetching a blue waistcoat from the armoire. The style was a tad dated, but it was long enough, and a nice color on him. It would do. Hamal held his arms out, somewhat befuddled, as Zevran dressed him. When he was done, the Warden touched his fingertips to his vallaslin.

“No visible weapons,” he murmured. “I will need to leave my sword behind.”

“I am afraid so,” Zevran said gently.

“And my bow and arrows?”

“You need not leave them behind. You could pass for a hunter,” Zevran said. “It is not far from the truth, anyway. But we may be questioned, at times, so be ready.”

“The human cities are the same whatever country you are in,” Hamal replied. “I understand.”

A lull of silence met them. Zevran looked him up and down, his gaze lingering on the fading bruise on his right cheekbone, the stitches over his forehead, and the ribbons woven through his braids. The Blight’s memory was enormous, and it loomed over them, even now, weeks out from battle. But it was over; it could no longer hurt them, he had to remind himself. And yet here they were, preparing for another fight. Was it wise?

“You do not need to do this with me, amor,” he reminded him, his voice a whisper.

Hamal smiled, and stepped close to him. He grabbed his hands and kissed his battle-scraped knuckles and palms, until Zevran was holding his face and laughing.

“What was it you said to me?” Hamal asked him. “The gates of the Dark City itself?”

“For the chance to be at your side,” Zevran answered.

“Emma lath. Promise?”

And Zevran remembered it well: The way the air had smelled of smoke when he’d spoken those words, and the sound of war horns amidst the burning sun.

With all the fervor of that blood-soaked promise, Zevran kissed him.

“I promise.”

[shu-box-puns]

Tsu’tey getting pissed at a root that had the audacity to trip Spider up whilst he was chasing his Dad’s tail. 

Just young Spider toddling along after Tsu’tey whilst the hunter navigates the forest. He’s decked out in the loincloth Tsu’tey made for him with a little toy bow slung over his shoulder so he can be like his Dad. Since he’s learnt to walk, Spider’s been getting more and more confident in getting around. When he’s not tired, he’ll fuss until Tsu’tey relents and lets him out of the babysling so he can explore. He always makes sure its somewhere safe enough for Spider to explore, somewhere he can stretch his legs but Tsu’tey can keep an eye on him.

It’s mid morning, plenty of time to hunt for dinner later after Spider has tired himself out enough to sleep whilst Tsu’tey works. 

Now, the little one is making grabby hands at the tail waving above his head, and not looking where he’s going because he’s so enthralled. To his credit, Spider doesn’t cry when he falls, just lets out a startled yelp and landed face first. Tsu’tey’s ears flick back at the sudden noise, head snapping round to check on his son, only to find him lying on his stomach in the dirt looking sad and pathetic.

With big watery eyes, Spider’s gaze climbs Tsu’tey’s towering form, his lower lip wobbling. He’s clearly stunned, watching Tsu’tey for a reaction so he knows whether he’s supposed to cry or sit back up. 

The hunter has to swallow hard as he turns and crouches to assess the damage. He knows his ears are pinned back and his tail is thrashing dangerously, but he works hard to keep his expression neutral. For if he panics, it’ll send Spider into hysterics.

Spider is stock still as Tsu’tey examines him with careful touches, watching his Dad’s face like a hawk for signs of distress or sadness. Tsu’tey gives him nothing so Spider just keeps staring. Momentarily frozen as Tsu’tey realises he’s fine and let his ears spring back up.

“What a brave little warrior.” He coos, gently hooking his fingers under Spider’s armpits and lifting him back to his feet. Spider visibly brightens at the compliment. He makes grabby hands at Tsu’tey once again, who is more than happy to scoop him up into his arms. 

Spider goes willingly into the sling, allowing Tsu’tey to carefully dust off his knees before tucking him in securely. Before the hunter turns to go, he makes sure to give the offending root a sharp kick. 

[ciphykiss]

< incubus (ii) >

blade x f!reader; implied nsfw (only un-explicit part), mdni (implied) somnophilia

a/n: second part of incubus, but stave off the thirst for now XD

“Declined.”

You blink, once, twice, dazed—you count every checkered tile in your peripheral vision, wondering if you’d misheard. Bewildered, you straighten from your previously bowed stance, head tilted to the side. Jingyuan pays you no mind, bent over a fortune scroll stamped with Master Diviner Fuxuan’s insignia. Behind him, Yanqing can only stare, wide-eyed.

“Excuse me?”

Those infuriating, once captivating (but now more serpentine than anything else) golden eyes peer up at you, unperturbed. “Upon careful evaluation, it has been deemed that [Name] of Cloudford’s maximum security detention center is to remain deployed at her post indefinitely—until the case of the stellaron hunter is sealed and closed.”

“By whom?” You demand, fists clenching the fabric of your dress. “‘Indefinitely’? Exactly how long is that? This is ridiculous, and against the very rights printed on Section 35 of the Luofonian Codex—”

“By me.” Jingyuan rests his scroll atop his checkerboard. “And I’m sure you’re aware by now, but the Codex also states every Arbiter General is free to exempt and circumvent said articles when deemed necessary.”

“You can’t be serious,” you hiss, slamming your hands over the table; you see Yanqing bristle, hands cleaving for his sword, and Jingyuan has to raise a hand to temper his retinue that had, no doubt, risen to their feet and aimed rifles at your head. You pay them no mind; the vampire-bruises from last night sting as a reminder of your paranormal plight, caked under layers of foundation and color corrector. There’s an odd sting that shoots up your left leg, making it slightly difficult to stand upright. “You’re making me a prisoner of the flagship?”

Jingyuan sighs, resting his chin on a hand; ah, it’s that attitude again, all unbridled kindness and fleeting exasperation, like waves atop a morning sea. Over time, it spells more patronizing than it does calming, and urges you to reenact the more violent (and less whorish) parts of your lucid dreams. Your fingers twitch at the sight of his unmarred cheek.

“Why must you always assume the worst of me, my dear assistant?”

A droll stare. “You uprooted a fresh graduate from her position as amicassador, took advantage of her naivete to weasel in mutable terms in her contract, had her work an eight to ten schedule with unpaid overtime, and encouraged said amicassador graduate with no background in combat to cross-examine one of the most wanted criminals in the galaxy.”

“First of all, what you are not paid in overtime is delivered to you in the forms of generous bonuses and an exceptional annual raise,” Jingyuan argues, scandalized by your declarations. Even Yanqing looks to him accusingly now. “And as for your meeting with… our newest problem, well, that’s a result of your own belligerence, isn’t it?” He taps his table with his knuckle, the first signs of irritation stretching over his usually composed visage. “You were instructed to meet with me as soon as you arrived on scene. If you had, I would’ve taken the time to inform you of what you were getting yourself into, and the risks associated.”

You throw your hands up in the air. “Well, fuck me for not considering my employer would throw little old me into a foray of top ten most wanted killers! I don’t know what you want me to say, Jingyuan, especially considering how little regard you’ve shown me for my entire career at your stupid post.” Your lips curl. “And you wonder why your turnover rate looks like it crawled out of Tingyun’s first year exam scores. Unbelievable.”

“Mind your tongue; there are children present,” Jingyuan snaps, but neither you nor his blond heir really give a damn. In fact, Yanqing looks like he’s fighting a smile. At least someone found the situation funny. “Regardless—this is a decision that has been agreed upon by both Diviner Fu and I. Thus, your resignation request has been… well, rescinded.”

His lips twitch into an almost-smile, and despite sounding like he meant official business, you can tell the bastard is enjoying this. You gaze mutely at the hastily-scrawled resignation essays you’d filled out at 6 AM over coffee stains and ink splatters, untouched beside a gold, ornate vase on the Jingyuan’s table; the general raises a brow at your lack of ire, likely expecting glares or creative (but politely-framed, as to not earn a bullet to the back of your head) death threats by now.

Instead, you smile. Jingyuan immediately grows wary.

“Article 6, subsection 23,” you purr, “Any defamation or destruction of property belonging to the Arbiter-General of the Xianzhou Luofu will result in the permanent termination of said civil servant’s contract; punishments include, but may not be limited to, a six-month leave of absence from all organized labor.”

You grin. Jingyuan’s eyes widen.

“...whatever it is you’re planning, do no—”

“I think I’m long overdue for a vacation, don’t you, general?” You sing, and the general and his compatriots can only watch in slack-jawed horror as you raise the vase (an armistice gift from the Marshall Hua) and send it shattering onto the tile.

Deathly silence fills the halls of Jingyuan’s palace. Jingyuan doesn’t look up at you when he speaks, low and gritted, as damningly close to murderous as you’d ever heard him.

“Take her away. Solitary confinement. Two hours—then ensure she returns to her duties. This time, I want completion.”

Your smile drops.

“You—!”

And then you’re thrashing, the ends of your heels digging uselessly into the ground. The stupidly beefy arms of his personal guards yank you backwards to your makeshift cell (the infirmary), preventing you from falling backwards on your face.

“You can’t do this to me!” Your shrieks go unacknowledged; Jingyuan is too busy mourning over his dumb vase. “Jingyuan, you bastard! This is a violation of my rights! Terminate me! Throw me in jail! Anything but back there!”

Yanqing glances over the broken shards glinting over filtered sunlight. “General… is it really okay to let her go like that?”

The silver-haired man sighs, weary and a thousand years older than his already-dreaded age; he picks up a shard and examines it for any signs of salvageability (there are none). “Despite her… grievances, Diviner Fu has already determined her ‘likely favorable but not quite necessary’ for this case. I’m afraid she would’ve had to stay regardless. Though I do wish my dear assistant was even a smidgen more… agreeable.”

“—I knew I should’ve let Tingyun leak your 18+ sauna album! Just you watch, Jingyuan, after I’m through—”

“She has what.”

ꨄ︎

“—so please, for the love of all Aeons, I don’t care if it’s your stripper alias or Foxian Beauty & Haircare handle, just please, give me something to work with,” you groan, finding yourself at the mercy of the selectively mute space murderer with both your clothes and hair disheveled from fighting off (clawing at) Jingyuan’s men. Your throat aches from two hours of screeching obscenities, begging for mercy, and finally, prayer (unfortunately, you’d never been pious, and Lan had likely forsaken you by now). You’d thrashed, flipped the nursing cot upside down, shattered glass vials against the walls, and fallen to a half-dead heap on the floor by the time you were dragged in to resume bio-data collection.

If he registers your incessant whining, the space-criminal doesn’t show it; he says nothing for a long while until the void fills with the sound of incessant pen-tapping against your digital clipboard.

His mouth bends into a frown. “Stop that.”

“So he speaks,” you drawl, sarcastic. “Tell you what—why don’t you share your introductions with the class—me—and I’ll stop yammering. Easy as that.”

“Is it necessary?” He inquires cryptically. “Why don’t you just ask that general of yours—I’m sure Jingyuan would be able to sate your curiosity.”

Your rhythmic tapping ceases. “You know Jingyuan?”

That, he doesn’t answer; you observe him as he lapses back into silence, as dark and brooding as ever before, and feel the welts on your neck itch, an obtrusive reminder of your night terror (your dubbing isn’t quite accurate, but the label makes you feel better about yourself). Then, you resume clacking your pen in tribute to the morning show you’d catch glimpses of on the way to hell (work), and observe the tick working on the man’s jaw.

“...Blade,” he says at last, the word cutting like the edge of a serrated knife; you blink. Blade. The name suits him, somehow—all edge and red, like the backdrop of a battlefield. “...but here, Ren.”

You’re tearing through the bio-data form like a storm; two lines is enough. You’ll make it enough. Blade/Ren. Affiliation: likely Xianzhounian. Fabric points to a prime of at least five-hundred years prior; further trace collection is needed. Picture comparison of clothing necessary for evaluation. Suspected relation with Luofu General—unsure if this is an attempt to derail from questioning/true identity. Unlikely, but possible. Discouraged communication style. Psychiatric evaluation necessary; put-off by rhythmic tapping. Likely suffers from heightened senses; could be a result of battle-trauma or mixed genetics (both?). Likely a Xianzhou Native; probable Homo celestinae, blood testing required for confirmation.

“Blade,” you murmur, and the name rests oddly comfortably in your mouth; a strange moniker, but it sounds almost sweet when you say it, as if meant to be spoken. The man—Blade—shifts, not out of discomfort or regulation, but as the first non-forced physical acknowledgment you’d managed to wrench out from him. 

His lips curve into a sneer when you continue scritching.

“All figured out, from just a name,” he mocks. You raise a brow.

“Does that offend you?” You tap your pen in thought, conjuring up the next bullet point. Easily offended by assumptions. Possible insecurity? 

To your surprise, he grazes a smile—but not your regular, run-of-the-mill grin. It’s malefic, a touch depraved, like staring into a hollow skull. “No. Fantasize all you want. So as long I ruin you in every end.”

You nearly drop your clipboard.

“I could ruin you,” his voice echoes. “I could make it burn. You would dream of me in the waking world, cry for me in the dreaming. A slave to passion, day and night; hardly sleeping, hardly eating, merely breathing…” 

No. Impossible. There’s no way—it can’t be—

Gingerly, you finger the skin over your pulse point. The bruised kiss hisses upon contact; you feel the hummingbird-flutter of your own heartbeat.

“Do you dream?”

You don’t know why you blurt that particular phrase; you suppose it’s more acceptable than “did we almost-fuck in my (our?) dream last night”. Still, you observe the intergalactic space criminal with heightened scrutiny, wishing (now more than ever) he didn’t have that cursed blindfold on.

You never realized just how much is missed from the eyes alone.

If there’s any reaction, he doesn’t show it; his next words are mere remnants of what they should be, like bones atop carcass.

“I do not recall the last I dreamt.”

You swallow, the first needles of paranoia sinking into your spine. That should be answer enough. But you wonder why it feels like a dance between confirmation and indifference; anything but denial. Suddenly, you think you hate him; his archaic, cryptic remarks, his riddles and his ambiguity.

“Not worthy enough for recording?” he cuts through the silence, the cruelty of a half-smile gallivanting across your vision. You realize you’d been spaced out, pen hanging between downturned fingers, and curse.

“...think nothing of it,” you mutter. You deem the passage worthy enough for Jingyuan’s approval (it isn’t) and chuck the pen backwards. It dematerializes into the confines of your clipboard. “I should offer you my services once more, but I’m sure neither of us truly wishes for that. A word of advice—behave yourself, and the general might allow you to roam the cell unshackled for certain hours. I’m sure there’s nothing you want more than a hairbrush by now,” you snort. Blade doesn’t reply.

“Danyin,” you murmur, catching the man by his cuff when you exit the hall; he looks frazzled, as if half-expecting you to return with a missing limb (likely a touch disappointed when you don’t; you don’t consider yourself particularly lenient when forced into this scummy duty). “Do me a favor. I want you to place a recording device outside his cell; one of those high-tech thermal ones that can navigate through the dark.”

Danyin pales. “D-digital recordings—any recording—outside what is sanctioned by the general himself is strictly prohibited! I don’t even have cle—”

You unclasp your wristwatch and replace it with Danyin’s own; the man can only babble out a half-hearted protest when you do, mourning his defeat already.

“I’d do it myself, but I’m not exactly out of general douche-canoe’s radar,” you sigh, tightening the clasp. Danyin mumbles something about hiring an underwriter for his will, to which you offer a sunny grin and a pat on the back. “I’m counting on you, friend!”

He mutters something about you being as shitty as Jingyuan. You pretend not to hear it.

ꨄ︎

“A dream demon?” Tingyun snorts, pushing the newly-gifted sunglasses she’d received from a Yaoqing merchant that served as General Feixiao’s retinue down her nose. “You can’t be serious. Please tell me you didn’t make me cancel my hair appointment to play therapist for your psychotic break. How many times did I tell you to just quit and work with me in—”

You yank down the collar of your dress, having wiped off the excess makeup in the restaurant bathroom prior. “Look.”

“For the love of—oh. Oh.” She tilts her frames downwards, viridescent hues assessing the damage. “You got yourself a suckerfish? Careful with those—one starskiff romp shimmied into your lunchbreak and they think they own you.”

“Actually, my very preventable trauma from waking up next to Dai—Daiqiu? Daiqing? Has rendered me unable to pursue any bedmates since,” you sniff. Tingyun rolls her eyes.

“You sure you didn’t wobble into Inferno after your shift and had a couple shots too many? We all know it’s all south after your third martini. And your impairment the following morning.”

“You and I both know I don’t get off until midnight, and you were there when we both got banned from Inferno!”

“Maybe if you hadn’t laughed at the owner’s son and called him fossilized when he asked for a three—”

“He was at least as old as my grandfather, Ting! Without the Jingyuan-tier looks to make up for it!”

“Jingyuan isn’t that old—wait, do you still have a crush on him? What happened to—”

“That’s beside the point!” You swat her hand off the straw of her mid-afternoon cocktail, knocking her jade bracelet against the glass. The heat of it fogs the hexagons scattering rainbows onto the counter, and you are acutely reminded of the matching anklet that dangles on your left, forever warm and secured to your person. “I know you barely passed history—”

“Hey.”

“—but Foxian history can be traced as far back as the Long’s Scions, can it not? Surely there has to be something you picked up over the years. Maybe some old stories, some superstition…”

“[Name],” Tingyun sighs, “are you seriously asking me if I remember any bedtime stories?”

“So there is? Something, I mean?”

“You’re honestly better off taking that to a Vidyadhara historian or a senior Xianzhou Native,” Tingyun admits, to which your face cripples, because Aeons knows your social life had been reduced to zilch after your recruitment (and there was no way you’d press the matter to Jingyuan; you had no doubt he and Diviner Fu could grapple onto the dirtiest details of your midnight escapades). She swishes her drink with her straw in thought. “Foxian lifespans are but fleeting compared to the stories of our other long-lived peers; what are four hundred years, after all, to rebirth and a thousand?”

It’s said with a twinge of envy; you know Tingyun is not like Xianzhou commonfolk who dread their existence and eventual descent to madness. Life is—will never be—enough for her, never enough wine to drink, men to seduce; never enough jewelry and lost merchandise for Whistling Flames.

“We do, however, have our love stories—love and lust and betrayal and wroth, they’re quite similar, don’t you think? And the tales of the Foxians pale in comparison to none.”

“This isn’t about love,” is your immediate response. Tingyun arches a fine brow.

“Isn’t it, though?” With that, she reaches out to redo the buttons on your collar. Heat creeps up your ears. “Passion… this is something Foxians are accustomed with. We love our wine and jade, men and women all the same; I’m sure you know this,” she laughs, and you feel the fox-carving against your anklet simmer. “You know of the Xianzhou belief of soul partners, do you not?”

“Of course.” You reach down, absently, to tickle the jade that had been gifted (shackled) to you on your graduation day. “There’s the, erm, chosen ones, right? Bosom friends, sworn brothers—”

“That’s right; and they’re referred to as chosen for a reason.” She points the end of her olive stick at you. “It is the highest form of love, for some; philia, at the end of the day, is a choice,” she ignores your grumble of “where was mine”, “though, arguably, many believe these soul partners were predestined to be in your life. We gift our jade to these soul partners, and the Vidyadhara share a similar custom, but with bracers; warmth indicates the wearer’s partner is alive and well, and there is a belief that these gifts will eventually bring one back to the other, in life, death, dreams, or otherwise.” She narrows her eyes. “Though there’s no reason, seeing as I’d rather be caught dead than star in your rogue fantasies.”

“Wasn’t ever an option,” you mutter.

“There is another, more outdated; I’ve only ever heard stories about it, and some say the encounter died since the plague of abundance ravaged the long-lived. It’s less of a choice, more a force of nature; or so I’ve been told. A bunch of rubbish, honestly, but there does exist stories of another kind of soul partner—one that embodies a more… debauched role. I suppose soulmate is a loose term; these stories have long since been discarded, scoffed at as crude; these are the stories of scorned lovers, of passion, bedroom woes and death and betrayal; truly, nothing worth writing home about. I’m sure we’ve progressed enough as a society to leave behind such primal relics.”

Your head spins at the sudden onslaught of information; you inhale through your nose, pinching the bridge between two fingers. Tingyun finishes the contents of her drink, suckling the heart-shaped straw dry. “And what… what does that have to do with…”

“With your suckerfish?” Tingyun grins, dodging a kick under the table. “I’m getting to that. There’s a story—just one that I can remember, at least. My Lady wasn’t fond of me rummaging through those particular texts.”

“No wonder you turned out to be so godless—ow!”

“...like I was saying. There exists a…largely banned text. A bit blasphemous, but more so an overreaction, on the elders’ part; I’ll spare you the details, but the story can be loosely translated as The Foxian’s Obsession. Not the most creative of titles, I’ll admit, though it is fitting; it weaves the tale of a long-lived Foxian’s adoration of a short-lived fisherman. The woes of past society would not permit her to seek out a man of such fragility, and eventually, the fisherman married; the Foxian, hurt, enraged, and heartbroken, would curse the fisherman to an eternal sleep.”

“Sounds like one of those ex nightmare stories on Foxian Lipstick Alley,” you chortle.

“Imagine being so obsessed,” Tingyun snorts. “Anyways, the wife and family of the comatose fisherman start seeing ‘love marks’ on him, find him dead one day, bleeding from the mouth; the wife is put on trial until they discover news of said Foxian having passed in her sleep, coincidentally, with the same comorbidity.”

“What the fuck.”

“Creepy, isn’t it? Now, if that were the case with you…”

“Tingyun!” You screech. The Foxian snickers at your distress. “This isn’t funny! What if this dude’s some creepy old Foxy spirit disguising himself as some space criminal hunk to get into my pants and commit murder-sui!”

“Your drawers are in need of a seasonal refresh…”

“Tingyun, you bi—”

“Aeons, relax,” the amicassador slaps your arm in poor reassurance. “These are mere whispers of the past. The first starskiff hadn’t even taken flight when it was published. Besides, does your dream demon present with ears and a tail? You know that’s our one indisputable giveaway…”

“...no, he doesn’t,” you begrudge, a sigh of relief escaping you. Tingyun rolls her eyes.

“Then there you have it. I’m sure this is just a consequence of your ridiculous work hours—how many times must I tell you stress is bad for beauty? You’re even losing pockets of memory…”

“...you’re right. That must be it.”

“So? what happened to your resignation letter?”

“Don’t get me started—”

You vent the happenings of this morning to Tingyun, who, for the first time, appears rather irked; it’s not a common look for the Foxian, as leisurely and unbothered as a nepo-child of Lady Yukong can be, though you suppose even she has her limits on witnessing you falling victim to workplace abuse.

Throughout the conversation, you concoct the margins of your plan; the cameras should be set up by now, if Danyin is at least half-competent. You touch your now-fading love bites and make a mental note to pick up another bottle of fantasia.

If working with Jingyuan blessed you with any positives, it’s your seasoned thirst for vengeance—and the earlier you act, the swifter (and sweeter) your prize.

Perhaps it was a fluke. Perhaps it was a once-in-a-lifetime, paranormal encounter—but on the off chance it isn’t, well, now you’d be prepared.

Because if he can ruin you, who’s to say you can’t return the favor?

[docochocart]

DOCORONPA R

CHAPTER ONE

[Daily life]

Following MonoMaton's chilling announcement, things remained relatively quiet for the following week.

The group settled into their sleep-away camp environment, their stay almost beginning to resemble a vacation.

A daily routine was immediately set. The group met 3 times a day for scheduled meals, provided by Monomaton, then dispersed back into their cliques between said meals.

Drummer's cabin grew much closer throughout this week. Social Star and Bartender would gossip amongst themselves to pass time, with PT chiming in on occasion to frantically agree with Social Star.

If PT was the third wheel, that made Drummer the spare. She barely got a word in when the whole group was united.

Though she appreciated the girls' company, Drummer had found the most kinship in her passing moments with Marine Biologist.

Drummer never held her attention for long though, as she'd always quickly return to the side of Ice Skater. The two spent most of their time exploring the woods, separate from the rest of the group. Ice Skater's opinion of the group had clearly soured after she failed to secure a leadership position.

The closest thing the group had to a leader by that point was Salesman. It seemed that any activity Salesman took part in, people would follow. His care free attitude helped to keep much of the cast calm and united.

Streamer and Welder had become a menacing duo, spending their time trying to get a rise out of whoever they could. They found the most success in Trucker, often with the help of Sailor.

Sailor quickly found a stash of booze in the craft hall , begging Bartender to use her talent for "good of the group". She resisted at first, only agreeing after she was promised physical protection by him.

When Sailor wasn't with the gruesome twosome or hunting for booze, he could be found with Daredevil and Ghost Hunter. The boys had become incredibly close in their short time there, Daredevil and Streamer working hard to get Ghost Hunter out of his shell.

Cowboy and Cadet spent their days exploring the permitter, hunting for any means of escape. They did join with the gang at sundown, though Cowboy usually didn't stay long due to Welder and Streamer's shenanigans.

Rebel drifted in and out of the picture, joining the group as he pleased. While most of the group seemed to have forgotten the gravity of their situation, Rebel maintained the same caution.

A week passed in what felt like the blink of an eye. The stress of a killing game almost completely fading into the background, the cast finally began to let themselves truly unwind.

This would all change after day 7.

That morning, the group gathered for breakfast as they always did. Each student slowly trickled in, with Rebel being the last to sit for his meal.

After the class had all gathered and began eating, Salesman rose with a proposition: a beach day.

He suggested the whole class take a trip down to the lake for moral, and surprisingly most of the cast agreed. The only nay-sayers being Ice Skater, Rebel and Trucker.

After minimal peer pressure Trucker caved and agreed to join. He was shortly followed by Ice Skater, seemingly to separate herself from Rebel.

With Rebel being the only hold out Salesman moved on with the plans, beginning to discuss what food and supplies they should bring.

To the surprise of everybody but Salesman, Rebel began chiming in about what should be brought. And suddenly it seemed the whole group was in for a day trip to the beach.

The group dispersed after agreeing to meet by the lake at sunset.

Drummer attempted to get a word in with Marine Biologist on their way out, only to be completely ignored in leu of Ice Skater's brooding.

Drummer headed back to the cabin, her new friends continuing to interrupt any attempt she made to chime in.

Slowly, the idea of a lake trip began to appeal less and less to her. Eventually she silently decided to bow out of the plans, secretly hoping some others would do the same.

The day passed, and the girls of cabin 1 got completely dressed and ready for their beach trip without noticing Drummer wasn't doing the same.

They only questioned if she was joining them at the door, where she quietly said she'd pass with minimal backlash.

The girls left, and Drummer solemnly lied back down for a nap.

...

A hand gently tapped Drummer's shoulder, her eye's fluttering open. Her eyes focused in on Salesman, who stood above her in his beach attire. Personal Trainer stood silently behind him, tiredly staring at Drummer.

Salesman asked why she hadn't attended the beach day, Drummer attempting to skirt the question and go back to sleep.Salesman continued pressing the issue. Leaning in with his care free smirk, his chilling eye contact quickly broke her down.

Panicking at the passive aggressive confrontation, Drummer cautiously agreed to join in on the "fun".

The three traveled back to the beach finding a beautiful summer scene awaiting them.

As the group enjoyed their secluded summer evening, a dreadfully sweet voice boomed through the air.

The campers heads spun towards the trees, where hidden speakers sprawled throughout the camp blared a message from MonoMaton. His statement was clear, all campers were to meet back at the cabins immediately or face sudden death.

Panic shot through the crowd, quickly being quelled by a firm order from Cowboy to follow the plushies demands.

Following these orders, the cast headed back toward the base camp.

....

The cast arrived to an odd scene of several MonoMatons setting up what seemed to be a projection system. A massive silver screen had been draped, with cheap lawn chairs strewn about for the campers to claim.

Once their crude theater was properly constructed, MonoMaton cheerily announced a movie night.

The cast attempted to chime in, but the plushie refused any questions on what they would be viewing.

The cast took their seats around the screen as MonoMaton inserted an unmarked disc. The screen flashed on, the image Drummer's family spread across the massive screen.

Tears in her eyes, her mother begged for the release of her daughter. Before her statement could be completed, the screen cut to another family giving a similar tearful message.

The group stayed silent, wide eyes glued to the screen as family after family begged for their safe return. The brief mentions of ransom money and a foreign terrorist cell caught the groups attention, feeding into the gravity of their situation.

After sixteen heart-wrenching clips of friends and family, the screen cut to black. White text scrawled across the black canvas, "Eat or be eaten".

The group stood silent, shocked by what they'd just been shown.

Welder cut him off with a guttural cry, launching themselves towards MonoMaton in a fury. Before they could reach the stuffed sheep, Cowboy intercepted them, warning Welder to calm down before they got hurt with a low tremble in his voice.

Welder struggled in his arms, screaming profanities into the crowd. The cast watched on in shock as their camp's most laid back member unraveled before their eyes.

Before others could join in the panic, Ice Skater stepped up toward the front of the group.

She spoke with gravitas and efficiency, announcing that this group would devolve into chaos with no leader.

Immediately appointing herself as said leader, she announced a mandatory curfew for the group to follow.

While campers like Rebel and Trucker were clearly scuffed by the idea of having to take orders from Ice Skater, they chose to bite their tongues given the situation.

With the sun setting around them, she ordered the cast back to their cabins. In a state of shock, the cast shuffled back to their beds. Few more words were spoken that night.

...

After hours of tossing and turning, Drummer had given up on sleeping that night. Rising from from her bunk, she quietly snuck out the cabin door, making her way to the Food Hall for a late night beverage.

On her walk back, she heard a rustle in the trees, as if something approaching from the woods nearby.

Ducking behind a cabin, Drummer watched as Marine Biologist came sprinting from the trees, panic in her eyes.

Drummer cautiously stepped out, drawn to help the distressed girl. She slowly moved forward until Marine Biologist finally took notice of her, silently motioning her closer.

Marine Biologist, out of breath, took Drummer by the hand, whispering that she saw something suspicious happening at the archery range.

The cautiously girls made their way over, exchanging nothing but fearful glances on the trek to the scene.

Eventually settling behind a tree on the far side of the range, the girls peeked through the foliage. 50 feet in front of them, Cowboy and Welder stood in the in the moonlight, each armed with a bow and arrow.

They silently watched as the two had a midnight target practice, Marine Biologist nervously clinging to Drummers sleeve.

The girls silently left the scene, breaking into a sprint when they knew they were out of earshot. They quickly reached their respective cabins, barely acknowledging each other as they departed.

Adrenaline pumping through her veins, Drummer tucked herself in for a long night of tossing and turning.

...

After what must of been one hour of sleep, Drummer was shook awake bright and early for breakfast by Personal Trainer.

She attempted to turn down the invite with no avail, the girls saying they wouldn't let her stay here alone. Knowing that they were probably right, she joined them on their walk over to the craft hall.

Most of the group had already settled in and begun eating when the girls arrived, minus the usual outliers.

Drummers froze, her eyes darting around the room in fear as the events of last night came rushing back to her. She noted Cowboy and Welder had both already arrived, sitting on complete opposite sides of the room.

Her eyes traveled further back, meeting the troubled gaze of Marine Biologist. The girl helplessly stared at Drummer with Ice Skater silently eating next to her.

Marine Biologist excused herself, shyly trotting her way across the dining room to Drummer, to the clear ire of Ice Skater.

She sheepishly pulled drummer out of the exit and onto the porch of the dining hall, where the two shared a brief and quiet dialogue on what they saw.

Marine Biologist frantically questioned if Drummer had told anybody, breathing a sigh of relief after being told no.

She held out a pinky, pleading for Drummer to promise not to tell anybody what they had witnessed for both of their safety. Drummer immediately folded, swearing to secrecy.

The two reentered the craft hall, awkwardly departing like nothing had happened.

After some light pressing, the girls let up after Drummer made it clear she wasn't spilling on what she'd discussed with Marine Biologist. The girls moved on, quickly finishing breakfast and heading out into the camp.

The campers all tried to go about their days as normal, but the dread of their situation began to finally set in. The girls spent most of the day playing card games in their cabin, feudally trying to distract themselves from their situation.

They only left this isolation for their mandatory lunch and dinner. They exchanged hollow platitudes with their fellow campers.

Drummer and Marine Biologist didn't speak again that day. Any attempt Drummer made at eye contact was anxiously avoided by the other girl.

Giving up on socializing once again, Drummer sunk into herself. She spent the evening in stoic silence as her cabin-mates desperately tried to pass the time.

They finally gave up after the sun set, all going to bed with a hollow feeling in their chest. It seemed like a certainty something bad was coming, they just didn't realize how soon.

To be continued...

[scariusaquarius]

once in a lifetime.

CHRISTMAS ADVENT BONANZA 2K24 Day 1: Sleigh Ride, Sam Winchester

Sam Winchester x Gen! Reader Summary: Sam Winchester wasn't a man of many firsts, but when your festive holiday spirit beckons him onto an adventure he'd never been on before, Sam can't seem to feel anything but happy while watching the snow coat your hair and the Christmas lights shine in those pretty eyes.

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A/n: Surprise! I'm doing an advent event because everyone else was so i absolutely needed to jump onto the bandwagon. These are all SFW as I don't usually get too into the NSFW side of Christmas, so I do hope that you enjoy!

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Genre: Romantic, Slice-of-Life Rated: Everyone Warning: Fluff, Sam is a bit awkward, Romance

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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The life of a hunter didn't leave much time for leisure and normal human activities. Somewhere in the country, there was always someone that needed saving and a monster that needed killing. If Sam wasn't busy with hunting, he was busy with researching and restocking on supplies. If he wasn't busy with that, he was busy with dealing with his big brother's shenanigans.

If he wasn't dealing with Dean, then Sam had the rare time to spend with you.

Sam couldn't help but to sneak a glance over at you while the two of you stood in line, your eyes sparkling excitedly as the air from your lungs puffed visibly in the cold Kansas air. You were bundled up to the point that you almost couldn't see over the layered scarf on your neck, his Stanford scarf wrapped securely thanks to his fussing.

You were so excited, standing on the tips of your toes to keep peeking around the shoulders of people who were taller than you, your gloved fingers holding tightly onto your ticket for the ride. Sam couldn't help but to smile and chuckle, asking you.

"Are you excited?"

"Hell yeah, I'm excited! I haven't been on a sleigh ride since I was little!"

Sam hummed, revealing to you in a slightly quiet voice.

"I've never been on one before."

Your eyes seemed to shine with even more excitement, grabbing on his arm to gently tug on it.

"It's so much fun, Sam, I promise!"

Sam smiled gently down at you, and he couldn't help but to feel so warm inside the more you began to fidget as the line got smaller and smaller. You were practically vibrating, stamping your feet slightly over and over as the Ticket Master got closer and closer until finally, it was you and Sam.

Both of you offered your tickets, and you were let through the gate, walking down some steps to approach the sleigh. It was incredible, Sam had to admit. The sleigh was elaborate, red and gold with black accents; green and silver bows decorating the sides. Hooked to the sleigh was a beautiful pair of horses, white and long-haired.

Sam wasn't exactly sure what breed, but he supposed it didn't matter: if they got the job done then that was that. Holding your hand, Sam helped you get up into the sleigh. When Sam settled, it was slightly awkward; the sleigh not meant to accommodate someone of his stature. So, unfortunately, his knees were pressed up against the back of the drivers seat.

Sam didn't complain, however. You hadn't let his hand go since you both had climbed in, and you were sitting up within your seat with excitement as the driver climbed in with a big smile.

"You folks ready?"

You nodded furiously, and the reigns cracked, the horses beginning to move. Sam almost lurched, and you sat back in your seat with a giggle. Sam smiled gently, and he took the moment to admire the scenery.

There was a light dusting of snow falling all around. The path the sleigh was meant to go was lined with big tall lights in the style of lantern posts, decorated with big bows and bells that jingled just the slightest.

The sleigh was going a comfortable canter, and Sam couldn't help but to look back at you as you gazed out at the winter wonderland. The lights that were passing by made you glow gold, and with the snow dusting your hair and your eyes sparkling like the sun, Sam's heart began to race.

You looked so happy, and Sam didn't think about anything dark and dreary for once. For the first time in his life, Sam didn't feel jaded and cold about the world and the things that went bump. None of it mattered to him. All that mattered was you and him and this moment.

You turned to him, seeming to feel his stare, and you asked him, those pretty lips curled up into the smile that Sam loved so much.

"What do you think of it so far?"

Sam's lips curled up slightly before he looked all around him again, his hazel eyes fluttering as snow tickled his eyelashes.

"It's beautiful. A little bit slow, but it's fun."

"They're not supposed to go faster than 15 miles per hour, Sam."

Sam hummed, teasing you gently.

"It would be a lot of fun though."

You chuckled and nudged him with your elbow, shaking your head.

"And more dangerous. I'm really glad that you are liking it so far though, Sam."

Sam hummed before his heart began to race, his eyes staring down at his knees for a moment as his eyebrows twitched and he smiled gently.

"Well, the trip was made a lot better with you being here."

He could feel your eyes on him, scrutinizing him, but when Sam looked back at you, you weren't judging him or scrutinizing him at all. Instead, you wore a smile; gentle and loving and so warm that Sam didn't even notice the cold nipping at his nose anymore.

"I wouldn't want to be with anybody else, Sam. Thank you for joining me."

You rested your head against his shoulder, and Sam couldn't help but to smile widely, resting his cheek against your head.

"I wouldn't want to be with anybody else either. Merry Christmas, (Y/n)."

[END DAY 1]