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lu-is-not-ok · 15 days ago

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two in one theory... i am listening very intently if you ever feel up to share it!!

Alright, so this is gonna be... as close to an Abridged explanation of the theory as I can make, because if I went off on everything about it I would end up writing a whole dissertation or five hour video essay script on this shit.

There are gonna be three main sections to this post - Hong Lu's Daiyuisms, Hong Lu's Themes of Identity and how that connects to the concept of Two in One, and the Daiyu-Baoyu theory itself.

Strap in folks.

Hong Lu's Daiyuisms

If you know anything about my theories in the earlier days of Limbus, you might know that I'm one of the very few people who was convinced Hong Lu is actually Daiyu, due to some evidence I found personally compelling. This has not changed, as we've only gotten just as much extra evidence to this as we have to him being Baoyu. So let me just speedrun through some of these points.

The Fucking Jade Eye

Ok hear me out. This is maybe the least important piece of evidence but I can never stop thinking about it. Hong Lu's jade eye? Not actually fully blue! If you look closely on most of his sprites, you can see that he actually has sectoral heterochromia, meaning his jade eye is both blue and black.

Daiyu's name, quite literally, translates to blue-black jade.

Now, you could claim that this is merely meant to be an easter egg reference to her, but... is that really Project Moon's style? After all, when people speculated on Don Quixote being Sancho or a Bloodfiend partially based on her appearance all the way back since near launch, they turned out to be right.

Hong Lu's Father

As of now, there is only one instance of Hong Lu referencing his Father in Limbus, and it's a voiceline from his Base Identity:

Now, if you know anything about DOTRC, this should already be raising some flags, because if Hong Lu was just Baoyu, he would not fucking talk like that about his Father.

In the book, Baoyu is consistently shown to be afraid of his Father, for a good reason mind you, as he's his main abuser. Baoyu would not be looking forward to introducing his friends to that man.

Even if Hong Lu was trying to downplay the abuse he's recieved, this would still not fit his pattern of behavior. When topics that genuinely bother Hong Lu come up, such as what could make him distort or how rich people would enjoy gifts made of humans, he immediately pivots and tries to avoid the topic at all cost. He would not bring up his main abuser in such a lighthearted manner, he would avoid bringing him up at all cost.

However, there is a character in DOTRC which does in fact have a more positive relationship to her Father, and would likely be the one with an opinion such as that - Daiyu. Daiyu loves her Father, and when he dies she completely disappears from the story for a bit to attend his funeral. If there was anyone who would be excited to introduce their friends to their Father, it'd be Daiyu.

Lasso Hong Lu's Corrosion

I made a whole seperate post about this, but I might as well mention it here as well for the sake of completion. The design choices made for Hong Lu which are missing for Faust are very, very Daiyu-coded.

For one, not only does Hong Lu completely turn into a flower, unlike Faust, his horse also gains a flower in its mouth. For those whose knowledge of DOTRC is zero to none, Daiyu is a reincarnation of a Flower given sentience due to being watered by the Jade. I don't think I have to be the one to connect the dots between those two pieces of info for you.

The second is how the halters become a noose for Hong Lu. This, too, is a very Daiyu thing - Rose Hunter as an Abnormality represents the inability to escape one's fate, and Daiyu's fate is to die - the Jia Family arranging a marriage between Baoyu and Baochai leads to Daiyu falling deathly ill, which in itself could be considered a part of her repaying her Debt of Tears - the debt she swore to repay to the Jade/Baoyu when she was still a Flower.

The hilarity of the fact that this E.G.O came out in the same update as Hong Lu being called Baoyu in-story is not lost on me.

Rose Sign Abnormality Log

The third Log for Rose Sign ends in a very peculiar way.

There's multiple ways one can tie Hong Lu's odd reluctance to talk about flowers and the petals. One is the obvious "he's being reminded of Daiyu because she was a Flower" connection, but there's another one.

One of the most commonly potrayed images of Daiyu relates to a scene in DOTRC where she buries fallen flower petals, weeping for and lamenting the mortality of the flowers and herself. Hong Lu's reaction here to his fellow Sinners being reduced to nothing but petals upon Rose Sign's death feels like a notable parallel to Daiyu's flower burial scene.

Like literally everything about Kurokumo Hong Lu

The title for this is a bit of an exaggeration, but at the same time. I'm serious. Kurokumo Hong Lu is perhaps the most Daiyu Identity out of all the Hong Lu Identities we have, and the way he is designed to stand out among them further makes me go insane.

Kurokumo Hong Lu's most defining trait is his attitude - he often complains about his position and how authority treats him, though he doesn't really act out against them in any major way outside of making snarky or sarcastic remarks.

This is, frankly, an extremely Daiyu thing to do. Daiyu is one of the few characters who audibly complains about her treatment in the household. For example she complains about not being given as many opportunities to show off her poetry skills as her male peers are, and she recognises how, when all the girls in the family are given flowers, she's the last one to recieve them and thus is stripped of the ability to pick, being only given the leftovers.

Then there's the whole. Everything about Kurokumo Hong Lu's visual design. Because once you realize just how Daiyu-like the Identity is, you realize just how weird he is compared to other Hong Lu Identities. I mean just look how he compares to his other Identities.

He's the only Hong Lu Identity with a blue tint to his hair in the combat sprite rather than the usual purple.

He's the only Hong Lu Identity whose hairtie is a ribbon rather than a jade ring (Liu Hong Lu technically has the ribbon in his post-uptie art, but he doesn't have it in his combat sprite so I'm not counting him).

He's the only Hong Lu Identity to not be smiling in his combat sprites.

And he's the only Hong Lu Identity (and one of only four Identities in the game) whose Idle sprite has its body facing away from the opponent rather than facing towards them.

All of those combine to make him stand out like a sore thumb in a Hong Lu Identity lineup in a way that makes it feel intentional, especially since he's also the only Hong Lu Identity with that kind of notable attitude towards authority. Other Hong Lu Identities are either obedient, don't express any opinion, or just straight up are the authority.

The Baoyu reveal is framed in a very weird way

This is, admittedly, less of a Daiyuism and more of a not-Baoyuism, but I thought it'd be important to mention nonetheless.

There are a lot of things about Canto 7's reveal of Hong Lu's name being Baoyu that are very strange, especially compared to how the Canto frames Don Quixote's own reveal of actually being Sancho.

For one, the timing itself - why is such an important piece of info being revealed so early? Again, compare to Donqui - she was revealed to be a Bloodfiend in the Intervallo right before Canto 7, and the Sancho reveal only came in the second half of the Canto.

For two, the framing - Donqui's reveals are treated as what they are, Major Reveals. The Baoyu reveal on the other hand happens in a single off-handed line, with nobody reacting to it in any way. Neither Hong Lu nor the other Sinners seem to hear it after all.

And mind you, it's not like Limbus is opposed to giving us important information in off-handed lines - far from it in fact. Project Moon loves shoving little bits of foreshadowing and reveals you don't realize are reveals until way later in these kinds of off-handed lines. But the way those lines are treated is still very different to how the Baoyu reveal is treated.

Usually, when there's foreshadowing in off-handed lines, it's usually either vague enough to be something a character could say regardless of context (see Yi Sang getting hung up on the Sedatives bit in Canto 2 or Ishmael's comment about Syndicates pretending to be Families foreshadowing her own history with the Middle via Queequeg) or something that is in the middle of a scene that distracts from what is actually being said (like Hong Lu's distortion foreshadowing being in the middle of an important infodump or most of everything in Canto 2 being surrounded by a comedic tone).

None of this is present for the Baoyu reveal. There's nothing to distract you from this information, as the scene is already focused on discussing Hong Lu, meaning you're already likely to be paying attention to what is being said about him. There's also no vagueness about it, there's no way you can brush it off since not only are Wei and Xichun newly introduced characters, but it's a whole ass clearcut namedrop.

The only way I can justify that reveal being there in the form it takes is that it in itself is the distraction. Think about it. Didn't I point it out earlier that this reveal came in the same update as the E.G.O with an extremely Daiyu-coded corrosion design? Wouldn't it make sense for that reveal to be there to lower your guard, make you think you resolved that mystery, only to later on reveal it wasn't the whole story after all?

Hong Lu's Themes of Identity

So this section is a bit more vague than the Daiyuism section, because Hong Lu is the type of guy to just Say Shit all the time. It's basically just. Anything that I find relevant to the idea of Hong Lu's Identity being more complex than him just being a random guy using a pseudonym, with some (but maybe not all) of them directly tying to the idea of Two in One.

"Which one is the real you?"

There are currently two seperate scenes where Hong Lu muses on the idea of someone's identity being in some way vague or obscured.

Is Dante the person or the clock? Is the dreamer the one in the dream or the one who wakes from it? Which you is the real you? Does it even matter if that you will flutter away in the end?

This idea of there being one true self. That even if there are two, there is only one of them that is actually you. Curious, right?

Face-changing dance

During the Canto 2 scene where everyone gives their reasons for whether or not they'd be a good pick for being the one to dance, Hong Lu says this.

Bian lian is a kind of dance literally translated as "face-changing". It involves rapid changes between various masks and make-up to represent different emotions or characters.

Now, it's no secret that Hong Lu is a great actor, as we see in Canto 4, and Canto 7 shows how the comparison to theatre and actors can be used to symbolize one's performance of identity, as it does for Sancho and her Don Quixote persona.

Mind you, this reveal comes in the same scene as Sinclair's dance invoking the image of a bonfire burning all through the night according to the Mariachis, a clear foreshadowing to Canto 3 and the Literal burning down of Sinclair's home.

Hong Lu knowing bian lian could be further foreshadowing to his own skills in deception, and how he too is a sort of actor, not unlike Don Quixote. On the other hand however, it could also be a more literal foreshadowing, that he (Baoyu) Quite Literally changed his face. We won't know until Canto 8, but it is an option you know.

The HamHamPangPang dish(es)

For those who don't know, here is a list of the Sinner-themed dishes that were available at HamHamPangPang.

Now, chances are, not all of them have deep meanings. I don't think there's much of a deep meaning to Heathcliff and Ishmael's dishes, I think PJM just legit don't know much about British/American cuisine so they just picked something recogniseable.

However, not all of them are meaningless picks either. Ryoshu, likely a mother, has a meal literally called "parent-and-child donburi". Don Quixote, a Bloodfiend, has a garlic-based dish. These were clearly done on purpose.

So, what does it say that Hong Lu's dish is actually two different dishes? That he's the only one whose dish is two different dishes? And it's not like the two are in some way inherently connected, since they're of completely different cuisines. Japchae is a Korean dish, not Chinese like the Mandarin rolls.

And just in case you weren't convinced that Hong Lu's choice of dishes is purposeful - another name for Mandarin rolls is flower buns, and one of the special occasions japchae is commonly served for is weddings. If you had read through the Daiyuisms section and somehow have no idea what the significance of that is, I don't know what to tell you.

The Daiyu-Baoyu Theory (finally)

So. I gave some evidence for why I think Hong Lu could still be Daiyu despite being revealed as Baoyu. I gave some evidence for why I think Hong Lu could be a Two in One deal, or that at the very least there's something more complex going on with his identity. But let's discuss the theory itself, how it would recontextualize certain things, and why I think it's an extremely fitting an thematically resonant direction for Hong Lu's Canto to go in.

The Theory

Here's what I speculate is going on.

Daiyu, just like in DOTRC, is someone who was taken in into the Jia Household rather than born in it, and who strongly connected with Baoyu upon meeting him. The two would end up forming a bond strong enough that they would be willing to die for one another (or, if they're in particularly argumentative moods, to kill themselves just to force the other to have to live a long life grieving over them - this is an actual argument they have in DOTRC and I pray to god this is adapted into Limbus because it's too fucking funny).

At some point, Baoyu either dies or is brought to near death, likely through the same circumstances as in DOTRC - being beaten by his Father. To save him, his memories and consciousness would be transferred to his eye, a process not dissimilar to the one Xichun brings up in Canto 7, and implanted into Daiyu's body, causing them to become a vessel for Baoyu. This would be how Hong Lu as he is now is created.

All of the above is the main basis for this theory. Everything else that I might speculate about, such as the exact nature of the two's relationship, Daiyu's more exact background and personality, how their pre-reincarnation lives could be adapted - all of those are things that are purely speculative and ones that I don't really expect to be actually fulfilled. The only bits that I am sure are likely to be true is what I laid out above.

So... what does it all mean for the future? I'm glad you asked!

The Recontextualization

Here's a collection of just a couple of things that Hong Lu has said or is depicted as that would be heavily recontextualized if this theory ends up being true.

Hong Lu surviving despite claiming he didn't fight back when his siblings first tried to kill him: With the context that he used to be two seperate people, the answer to how he survived is made very simple. Baoyu is the one who wasn't fighting back. Daiyu, however, could have still protected him in turn.

The red ribbon on Hong Lu's weapon: There is only one other Sinner who has a similar decoration on their weapon - Ryoshu, who also has a red ribbon on her sword, which could be easily connected to Yuzuki and her death. With the context of Hong Lu being Baoyu occupying Daiyu's body and thus effectively rendering their self non-existent, the red ribbon could be a parallel symbol - a symbol of Daiyu and their 'death'.

How Hong Lu treats his weapon in his base E.G.O: The way Hong Lu holds his weapon in the illustration is more like he's cradling another person. This could be a representation of how he feels about Daiyu's situation. Likewise, in the attack animation, he's not really attacking with the weapon itself, is he? He's simply using it to direct a ribbon (which in itself is missing in the illustration), the part that is actually the attack. If the weapon in the base E.G.O represents Daiyu, this could be a parallel to how Baoyu feels like he's merely directing Daiyu's body to attack, rather than being the one actually attacking.

The duality of Hong Lu IDs: There is a notable pattern among Hong Lu IDs, and that is the focus on his attitude to violence. When he's in a situation where he's obedient towards his Family, he's either uninterested in violence, bored of it, or otherwise given no other choice but to use it as a reprieve from boredom. However, when he's in a situation where he's disconnected from his Family or otherwise questioning the status quo, he's shown to not only be much more aggressive and violent, but to outright enjoy it. With the context of Hong Lu being composed of two people, this duality could represent each of his components - the obedient and violence-averse being more Baoyu-like, while the questioning and violence-favoring being more Daiyu-like.

So, there's a bunch of stuff that would be given new meaning under the premise of this theory being true. But now, what about the future? What would this theory mean for the themes and ending of Canto 8?

The Resolution

I believe this is how the Daiyu-Baoyu theory will affect Canto 8.

At some point, whether before or during the Canto, it will be revealed that Hong Lu is both Daiyu and Baoyu. There will be an attempt to seperate the two, perhaps to implant Baoyu into a more fitting, more Jia Family-approved Vessel. Perhaps because the 'arranged marriage' from DOTRC could be adapted into something more... let's say Fear and Hunger kind of marriage rather than traditional marriage.

This will leave Hong Lu to be returned to their state as Daiyu, who will be revealed to be a very different person to what the Sinners knew Hong Lu as. There is a non-zero chance that Daiyu will be unable to hear Dante or be revived by them due to the one who signed the contract being Baoyu, and so they could end up acting as an uncontrollable ally unit not unlike Xichun in Canto 7.

The climax would then be Daiyu and Baoyu reuniting and being unwilling to part with each other again, even for the sake of returning to being the fake persona that is Hong Lu, leading to a potential duo boss fight/distortion boss fight/duo distortion boss fight.

The ending would be the two of them deciding to embrace their new identity as Hong Lu and truly becoming one, discarding their pasts and the selves that had been forced on them by the Jia Family. This ending would have a twofold meaning regarding how it connects to the DOTRC adaptation.

One - it would be a direct parallel to the ending of DOTRC where Baoyu leaves to become a monk. By becoming Hong Lu and discaring his previous identities, he'd be leaving behind the earthly attachments inherent to being Baoyu and Daiyu and become spiritually whole.

Two - it would be a reflection of the major theme of DOTRC, that being "Truth becomes fiction when the fiction's true. Real becomes not-real when the unreal's real." Hong Lu, as a person, is a 'fake' persona used by the 'real' Baoyu and Daiyu. However, by discarding those two identities and deciding to just be Hong Lu, the fiction of his existence becomes the truth, while his former real selves become not real.

Conclusion?

I could honestly just keep going with this post, but I think I'm going to stop myself here before I'm forced to find out what tumblr's character limit on posts is. Believe me, I was trying to be brief, and still this post is. This fucking long.

I hope this explains why this theory has been the subject of my brainrot for the past however long, and why I feel like it's surprisingly plausible despite being as deranged as it is.

Godspeed and godbless, I have classes tomorrow and I'm spending my time on this.

#ask #anon #lu speaketh #limbus company #hong lu #hong lu lcb #jia baoyu lcb #lin daiyu lcb #lcb analysis #lcb speculation #lcb theory #canto 7 spoilers

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mj-iza-writer · 2 months ago

Note

Whumpee and Caretaker(s) visit Whumper’s grave, and while Caretaker(s) might not understand why Whumpee processes grief (and trauma) the way they do, they are there to support Whumpee through whatever they need, despite their own complicated feelings towards Whumper

@3-2-whump

Caretaker took a quick glance at Whumpee while they drove into the cemetery.

Whumpee cuddles a small bouquet of flowers closer and watches out the window.

Caretaker took in the visible scars that covered Whumpee's arms. They had just gotten a little more comfortable with showing their scars. Caretaker was so proud of them.

Caretaker sighed as they parked near the grave sight of the bastard who placed those scars on their Whumpee.

If it was up to Caretaker, Whumper would have been burnt to ashes and flushed down the toilet for what they had done. Unfortunately, Whumper's family made the funeral and burial arrangements. How they were able to live with the fact that the bastard had done horrible things to others and still give a proper burial was beyond Caretaker.

"Alright", Caretaker turned to Whumpee, "and you're sure you want to do this again? We can go get ice cream, or do something else even. We don't have to be here."

"I-I know, but I want to", Whumpee looked back at Caretaker, "i-is that okay?"

"Yes that is perfectly fine", Caretaker reassured, "I fully support anything you need to do for your recovery. Even if I fully do not like it, and will be honest on that. Your recovery is very important to me. If this helps you, then I will support you."

Whumpee smiles, "thankyou", they whisper.

Caretaker made their way to a nearby bench. It was close enough to watch over Whumpee, but they could stay out of the way.

Whumpee slowly walks to the grave. Caretaker always took in how cautious Whumpee was. Almost as though someone may jump out and startle them.

Whumpee stood at the foot of the grave for a few moments before kneeling down.

Caretaker wasn't close enough to hear what Whumpee said next. This is how it played out every time, like clock work.

After several moments, Whumpee would hold up the flowers as though they were offering them or showing them to someone. They would whisper one more thing before standing and placing the flowers at the head of the grave.

After a few more minutes, Whumpee would then walk back toward Caretaker.

Caretaker would then mumble something like, "Bastard", under their breath, then smile at Whumpee.

"Could we by chance get ice cream?", Whumpee smirked, "you said it, and now it sounds really good."

"We can get ice cream", Caretaker chuckled as they stood.

Whumpee enjoys their ice cream sundae on the park bench while Caretaker drinks a coffee.

"This tastes so good", Whumpee smiles.

"Yes the coffee is good as well", Caretaker agrees.

Caretaker studied Whumpee for a few moments before sighing.

"Are you okay?", Whumpee gives them a questioning look.

"I always tell myself what you do at the grave sight is up to you. It's none of my business, but I'm just curious why you want to go monthly to visit. Then also what you say", Caretaker paused, "you don't have to tell me, of course. Like I said, it's personal to you."

"Oh uh", Whumpee looked at Caretaker and smiled.

Caretaker frowned, "you don't have to tell me."

"No, it's fine. Just part of it is probably a little silly to most. Whumper was always afraid of death. It was their biggest fear. Though they were not nice to me, they deserve to have some sort of visitors. Plus, I can make sure the grave is still there. I can know for sure they haven't somehow came back to life. I know it's dumb, but it's a comfort to know they're dead and have proof of it. I always tell them that I brought flowers, then as I leave I beg them to stay there. For them to stay dead."

Caretaker smiled comfortingly, "I see, you use that as a reassurance that they are truly gone."

"Ymhmm", Whumpee nodded, "stupid, isn't it?"

"No, not at all", Caretaker chuckled lightly, "like I said. I fully support anything you need for your recovery. I fully assure you though. That bastard is dead."

"I know, and I might believe that....once they are gone from my nightmares at least."

Caretaker looked at Whumpee sadly, "I'm sorry you still dream about them."

Whumpee nodded, "thankyou so much. Also, thankyou for helping me. Your support for me has been so helpful."

"You're welcome", Caretaker smiled,"I'll always be here for you."

Caretaker watched as Whumpee took a few steps away to look at some baby ducklings swimming past. Their mind replayed those first few days after Whumpee's rescue. How traumatic it all was. The thing that kept them moving forward was the fact that their Whumpee survived it... all by themself.

Caretaker knew they would never experience what Whumpee had experienced, and they would work hard to make sure it never happened again.

That's why it hurt when they still had to visit that graveside.

Caretaker knew the bastard was dead. Caretaker killed Whumper themself. Unfortunately, the bastard still lived on and Caretaker had no way to quickly dispose of Whumpee's nightmares.

Caretaker just had to wait until the therapy started to work.

Caretaker whispered to themself, "only a matter of time. Everything will hopefully be back to normal. In a matter of time."

I am really sorry about the wait, I had a lot of requests come at me at once, and I got a little overwhelmed, so I needed a little creativity break. I know I'm apologizing a lot lately. So yeah. I really hope you enjoyed this story though. I will attempt to get the next two requests out for everyone. -MJ

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

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@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

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#whump community #requested whump #whump stuff #whump writing #whump writer #whump ideas #whump #whumpee #whump scenario #whumper #caretaker #caretaker and whumpee #dead whumper is still haunting whumpee #caretaking #oc

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braveclementine · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter 25

Warnings: 18+readersonly, oral sex, smut, pet names, King kink

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

It had been about two weeks since you had gotten back from the Bahamas. That place had seemed like a dream and a second life. Now, everyone was back in the tower- or traveling between the tower and their countries they governed.

T'Challa and you were privately planning a quiet Wakandan ceremony to officially make you the Queen of Wakanda. Every time you talked about the conversation, you wanted to throw up. The idea of becoming a Queen of a country you didn't belong to was uncomfortable to you. You weren't even sure the people there would appreciate you.

Meanwhile, Thor was working his 'God of Fertility' magic, so that though you were having sex with everyone you were soulmated to, hopefully only T'Challa would take root so that he had an heir to the throne. Which, naturally, sped up T'Challa's want for the ceremony.

Shuri, Okoye, and Nakia were also helping plan this ceremony and you mostly took a backseat, really only inputting what you wanted if it came to a certain colour of the plates or flowers.

You weren't allowed to choose the style of your dress either, but you could at least choose the colour. You just told them to match you to T'Challa because you really didn't want to show up in a colour that would clash with his.

In the meantime, you were also trying out a lot of your traits like the archery and using the flexibility to train. Now that you had mechanical knowledge, Tony was even more excited when you came down to the lab because then you could help him with his projects. Not to mention your photographic memory from Stephen- although now you understood why he couldn't be around the Avengers for more than a few hours at the most.

Y/S/N and you hadn't really had a chance to talk yet between everything about your father's death.

Tony had arranged it so that it was a week after you guys had gotten home from the Bahamas. He had everything planned and neither of you had to lift a finger or push over a penny (although apparently now all of Tony's money was yours so-).

But between recovering a week, the funeral, and now planning for a Wakandan marriage ceremony, you had barely been able to even see her, much less talk to her.

Elizabeth had been sending you update texts. Pietro, who had never lived in the tower anyways, had moved down to Ohio along with Hogun. The two of them shared an apartment that was near Elizabeth's house so that they could continue to court her as she finished up her last year of High School. Pietro however, did come back every weekend so that he could spend time with Jessie and Katherine too.

Vision and Wanda were preparing to go down and see her as well, but both of them were unsure of whether they would stay like the other two or not.

Oh! And Heimdall was down there as well- though only for a few weeks- as he was courting Katerina from gymnastics as well. Apparently they met at the wedding and they found out they were soulmates. Neither of them had any other soulmates so that was kind've cute.

After another week, everything was set. You and T'Challa were the first to arrive in Wakanda. You had gaped, looking out the window, seeing everything that they had built. Everything just looked so intricate, advanced, and beautiful.

"I think you'd like to see where Bucky lived after the Avengers disassembled for a little bit." T'Challa's voice was soft next to your ear.

You nodded and then said, "This place is beautiful T."

T'Challa kissed the back of your ear. "Are you nervous my Nkosazana?"

"A little bit. I don't think your people will like me very much." You admitted. "I mean, from what I know, you have very ancient customs and I. . . I'm not." You gave a laugh. "I mean, you're marrying an outsider."

"We can't help where our soulmates live." T'Challa said simply. "And I wouldn't trade you for any of 'em."

You blushed, turning away from the window so that you could snuggle into T'Challa's side until the quinjet landed.

Shuri, Okoye, and T'Challa's mother, Queen Ramonda, was waiting for us along with another set of the dora milaje were waiting on either side.

You quickly hooked your arm around T'Challa's around the two of you walked down the Quinjet ramp to meet them. Shuri was waiting there in a T-shirt, a pair of long pants, a belt wrapped around the both at the same time. Her hair was tied up in space buns, a choker around her neck.

"Y/N!" She squealed, darting forward to throw her arms around you. You could feel yourself relaxing and smiling as you hugged her back.

Queen Ramonda smiled. She was absolutely stunning, wearing some formal white dress and headdress that you wished you knew the name to.

It was also the first time you had seen Okoye in her full red and silver uniform, her spear in hand. She looked on stoically as though you didn't know each other. But she also looked at T'Challa like that, so it was probably just a thing.

"Welcome to Wakanda Princess Y/N." Queen Ramonda said, setting forward to take your hand.

"Thank you Queen Ramonda." You said awkwardly, hoping beyond hope that you were actually allowed to call her that.

T'Challa smiled, hugging his mother. "Come, let us go inside."

He took you inside, Shuri, and his mother following- which didn't feel right. Then you remembered that she wouldn't even be the Queen anymore since you were married to T'Challa. After the ceremony you would be the Queen of Wakanda.

You nearly threw up right then and there.

T'Challa sensed your nerves, moving his arm from yours, to hook it around your waist, pulling you close to his side, kissing the top of your head, "It's going to be fine, even fun, you'll see my Nkosazana."

You nodded. His voice was alluring and you were sure that everything was going to be alright. There was just a small nagging feeling that you couldn't shake. Although you weren't sure what that nagging thing was.

T'Challa showed you around the entire palace, including Shuri's lab. He showed you the specially designed cryo tank that Bucky had been in until Shuri had managed to fix him, getting rid of his trigger words.

After that, T'Challa led you up to the main wing where Dora Milaje lined the hallways and also where the royal bedrooms were.

He opened up the door, letting the both of you into his room.

You looked around in interest. On your left where you entered, there were several tribal decorations as the wall curved. When the wall flattened out to be straight, there were two bookcases in the wall on either side of the two doors, one of which led to the closet and one that led to the bathroom, before the wall curved again and there were more tribal decorations there as well.

The bed was directly across from the room, white sheets and two pillows propped up against the headboard. It was square shaped and lower to the floor than you would have expected.

In the middle of the room, there was some sort of funnel there where four seats sat underneath it.

"It's the hologram table." T'Challa said, noticing you peering at it curiously. He gave a little laugh, "Because even in sleep a King is never not working."

You nodded, looking at the doors that led out onto a large balcony that overlooked the all of Wakanda. They weren't glass or had any curtains to pull out over them. Instead, they seemed to be woven of metal, small slots between them so that when they were pulled closed, decorative patterns would break out on the floor.

Yellow lights hung everywhere, circular in shape, hanging by metal wire of the same colour.

"I like it." You said, turning to T'Challa with a grin. "It's different and it's very you."

T'Challa checked the one and only clock in the room, "Hmm, we have time before dinner." He picked you up in his arms, bridal style, carrying you over the threshold. "You'll have to let Captain Rogers know about that one."

You giggled at T'Challa's playfulness as he brought you over to the bed, laying you down on it carefully before crawling over you. You kissed him excitedly. "Are we trying out the bed my King?"

He chuckled under his breath, making shivers go down your spine. "Indeed we are Nkosazana." He captured your lips in his again, as his hands slipped down to the hem of the dress you had decided to wear to meet his mother and sister in.

He pulled it upwards, letting you sit up a moment so that you could toss the dress over the side of the bed.

T'Challa pinned your hands lightly above your head with one hand, slowly and sensually kissing up your body. You could feel every spot that his lips lingered. You closed your eyes, lips parted slightly as you felt him press another low kiss right above your belly button.

You flickered your eyes open again as you felt his fingers undo the clasp of your bra, pulling it from your body to join the dress on the floor.

You let out a tiny mewl as his lips wrapped around your nipple. You rubbed your thighs together, wishing that you could get some sort of friction from him. But you also knew that T'Challa was not one to tease either.

"Patience Nkosazana," He murmured, teeth grazing over your now erect nipple, moving over to the other.

Your chest heaved as he finished with your breasts, before moving up to kiss you again. You smiled up at him as he pulled back. He grinned down at you before he pulled your knickers down your legs, tossing them behind him.

He hooked your legs over his shoulders, releasing the hold on your hands as he buried himself in your weeping pussy.

"T!" You gasped, moaning at the feeling of his cool tongue against your hot core, licking you, tasting you. "Oh fuck!"

You could feel his smile, his cheeks growing a little as his smile widened. His hands were firm around your thighs to hold you still. Your hands were gripping the pillow by your head as your orgasm started to build up inside of you. "T I'm gonna-"

"Go ahead my Nkosazana." T'Challa murmured against your lower lips, vibrations pushing you over the cliff, the waterfall dripping down, T'Challa licking up every drop you gave him.

He slowly lowered your legs from his shoulders as you came down from the slight high. He stroked himself a few times before he moved his tip through your wet folds, collecting your slick, before pushing in.

You both moaned at the lovely feeling. Your arms came up, sliding your hands behind the back of his head, pulling him into a kiss as he started to move through you. His hands came down, fingers sliding smoothly down your shoulders as he caressed you tenderly.

Your breaths came out in quick pants as he sped up a little, both of your foreheads together sweetly as he made love to you. "T. . ." You whimpered as the next orgasm came upon you. He sighed in content, "Y/N."

After you both collapsed on the bed, he pulled out of you before heading off to the bathroom to grab a wet washcloth, taking care of you.

"Now then." He said, once you both dressed in fresh, new clothes. "I think we should go downstairs and grace the citizens with our presence, shall we?"

You giggled. You were much more relaxed now that you had spent some time here, "We shall, my King."

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

Note

AITA for pointing out the fact that the groom’s family at my sister’s wedding were all wearing funeral clothes?

i (23NB) went to my sister’s (29F) wedding. not as part of the bridal party, i requested to be left out because she wanted her bridal party all in very feminine dresses and i present masc. but i helped with the floral arranging and paperwork so i felt like i contributed decently

my sister’s new husband (20M) is a nice guy, he’s very sweet to my sister. i think he’s a little young for her but our own parents actually have the same length age gap so i can’t really argue without causing other problems. tbh i have no issues with the relationship itself since she met him when he was an adult and he has been a very supportive partner to her

the wedding was at a christian church near us that our family “attends” but none of us besides our very religious aunt go to much anymore. it was a nice event, the colors were pastel yellow and peach. i helped set things up when i got there and then hung out with the groom’s party a little to see if they needed help on their end. after that i started greeting the arriving guests with our dad (48M)

here’s where i may be the asshole:

while my dad and i were shaking hands and directing guests around, i started noticing a weird pattern. a lot of our family were showing up in what i figured is pretty standard formal wear for a summer wedding at a church. lots of navy blue blazers, light pink dresses, tan/gray pantsuits, etc… a lot of random variation. but the groom’s family were by comparison all very much matching. in fact, at first, i thought maybe my sister had told them to dress in specific colors

they were all wearing black.

black suits, black dresses, black pantsuits… the only ones wearing any color were some of the kids who were wearing navy blue or gray. it got a little obvious when both his parents stood in front of us wearing black, dad and i wearing much more colorful attire. hell my own tie had pinky peach stripes to match the flowers

i didn’t say anything about it at first. i assumed there was something i didn’t know or that i was maybe just overreacting. but, as the event got underway, i noticed that the groom’s family were being a little distant. his sister (20s?F) in particular seemed to be stone-faced and didn’t return the greeting i offered, instead just staring at me and then huffing before she went to sit down. she was wearing a long black dress.

i haven’t met his family more than once or twice in the year and a half they’ve been together, but it seemed strange. they aren’t Addams Family types, black isn’t a standard color for them as far as i know. especially not the MIL (40s?F) whose home from what i remember is all pinks and florals

i finally decided to voice my confusion to my dad after the ceremony, when we were all sat down to eat before the dancing got started. he told me it was definitely weird, but to not tell my sister during the wedding. she definitely hadn’t asked them to specifically dress like that. i agreed i had no plans to tell her since it could stress her out

there were a couple more suspicious things like the speech that the groom’s brother (21M) gave where he made a pretty pointed cradle robbing joke and then the MIL leaving abruptly after the speeches… and i didn’t get talked to almost at all by any of his family besides his brother

during the party, i had a couple drinks and hung out with some of my sister’s bridesmaids. i off-handedly joked with one of them that it was weird to wear funeral clothes to a wedding, even though both take place in a church. she asked me what i was talking about so i, being tipsy and not thinking, explained everything…

i shouldn’t have been surprised that by the end of the night the gossip had made it to my sister and she was livid. she said some pretty hurtful things about me not being in her bridal party and “barely being [her] sister anymore” and we both left the interaction crying. i know she went too far and blew up at me, but i also think that she really is making a bad decision by marrying a guy so much younger than her, whose family seem to maybe even disapprove of it

i kinda hate that i noticed it and said anything but i also kinda hate my sister’s choices and what she said to me… AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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gypsophiliaz · 11 months ago

Text

“ douceur „

quanxi x fem florist | barista reader.

multiple part series. first part thats just pretty fluffy and romancey!! first time writing and actually publishing it so ermm leave tips ig idk. ik the pacing is weird but its bc i like to write in detail.

feminine reader x quanxi, includes romance. >:3 smut in later chapters or wtv.

disclaimer ; I've never written like romance before so forgive me lol. I write with extreme detail too so it probably gonna be the SLOWEST burn ever. also she smokes weed cuz ion fuck wit that cig shit lmfao

CHAPTER I

being a florist in tokyo isn't anything you thought you'd be finding yourself doing. though, being drawn to the sweet and naturey smell of flowers wouldn't suprise anyone who had known you before. head over heels constantly in love with all kinds of plants and flowers, from spider lilies to hydrangea, peony and flower arrangements in themselves.

. . .

you'd adjust your grip on the box cutter in your dominant hand, the vivid pink color of it mixing with the warm lighting above you, the blade swiftly and sharply cutting through the protruding thorns of the white roses, the remaining water inside would drip slightly onto the paper below the bouqet would find itself sitting inside of momentarily. a smell similar of freshly cut grass would fill your senses, and the cozy and comforting feel of the floristry – cafe place that you had recently assigned yourself to.

the smell of coffee, tea, and the baby's breath that sat to the right of you would fill the air, a rainy day with cars ever–so making light noises as their wheels splash and sputter inside of the puddles left by the rain. the annoying ding of the door would fill your ears once more, and like clock–work the all too familiar words would spill out of your mouth.

“ Welcome to Yrlissa's Flowery, How may I be of assistance? ”

as your eyes lazily drifted off the commissed bouqet that laid on the counter infront of you, your eyes would laid upon a tall lady, with a muscular yet slim figure. wispy bangs and a lacey eyepatch concealing her right eye. the rest of her thin hair contained by a black hairtie— who the hell visits a flower shop in a full black suit? Is she going to a fucking funeral ?

NOT professional thoughts. get it together!!!

the lady would approach the counter, with an almost monochromatic expression. not one emotion would appear on her face, and no body language out of the ordinary. her movements would seem almost perfected calculated, almost uncanny even, but as she grew closer the smell of the the roses and baby's breath would be replaced with the smell of marijuana.

the footsteps would come to a halt uncomfortably close to you, or maybe it would seem that way since shes near the height of a basketball player and you couldn't be any closer to a smurf, and also leaning over flowers with posture far from the best in the world– a few seconds of silence commence, the ladies eyes piercing above to read the sign. her lips parting to finally speak.

“A small espresso will do, please.”

“ would you like sugar or cream? ”

“ Surprise me. ”

the click of the box cutters blade retracting back into itself, and the clack of its placement onto the counter would follow her sentence. with your feet tapping to the cups behind you, and your body language obviously showing your nervousness, you'd swiftly grab it and draw back over to the counter near the woman.

tipping over the jug of geyser water just measuring to the line that marks a half liter. the sound of the water filling up would once again save you from extremely embarrassment from the pure awkwardness of the situation at hand.

. . . .

you'd stretch your hand over and weigh out 20 grams of coffee beans, pouring them into a small tin and placing them on the miniature scale. the lady bringing a stop to the awkward silence that filled the air.

“ I take it it's relaxing to work here hm? ”

“ It's nice on it's slow days, but then there's times like valentines day, and wedding season ykno? ”

“I'd imagine.”

as a few weeks passed, the lady swiftly became a regular. almost always coming in during your shift or being there before you clock in. a name you wrote on the coffee cup almost every shift, the type of name that rolls off your tongue sweet and slick, — quanxi. another day had arrived, opening the door to yrlissa's the bell would chime as you walked in, swiftly pittering to clock in, not missing quanxi sitting in the corner of the shop, as always.

she would stay for a few hours and make nice company on slow days, an often occurrence it would be to sit and speak with her while filling out the commissions for bouqets, and other kinds of assortments. it didn't take long to realize quanxi liked more to listen than to speak.

today was october 5th. the chill in the air sweeping into the store moments after the bell on the door would ring. it didn't take long for you to learn to brace yourself against the cold on the cue of the chime. completing the same ol' sequence you'd do everyday, steaming the milk and poking holes in the puck of espresso, yet this time for yourself to warm up on the cold day.

the thick fog outside would make seeing the people and events happening outside near impossible. pouring the milk, then espresso, a drizzle of caramel and whipped cream onntop, the perfect go—to drink. the cup would warm your hands, soothing you and bringing you into relaxation with the first sip, a small breath leaving your parted lips—

the all too familiar chime would fill your ears.

bruh.

quickly stepping behind the counter to at least shield your lower half. or.. 90% of ur body bc ur a fucking smurf. srry im writing this in my perspective im fucking 5'0. the chill would still expectedly hit your face and torso, sending a small shiver up your spine. gripping the cup of coffee just a bit tighter to warm your hands once again. fluttering your lashes and squinting to keep the ice cold air out of your eyes, you'd realize who'd walked in.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cold.” Quanxi would say, looking back and closing the door softly behind her as not to brush more cold air inside. this time she was wearing a brown turtle-neck under her coat and long black pants. she'd take a deep breath in and pull her other hand out of her pocket.

“you're fine don't worry. at least it's not another total stranger walking in, I think I'd rot inside having to make any more small talk today.” you'd set down your coffee to start her order, placing it beside the cash register and lean on the counter with the corner digging into your palms.

“Usual?”

“Mm.”

Quanxi would approach the table near the entrance of the work space, leaving about 3-5 feet in between the two of you as you started her order. It took her a few days in the beginning but she got what she wanted down pack. a shot of espresso, mixed softly into chocolate syrup followed by warm steamed milk and whipped cream. In other words, a Caffé Mocha. with some extra chocolate.

. . . should probably start that order

you'd started serving quanxi in the pretty white mugs boss lady told you not to use, simply to reduce dishes. but you didn't mind washing one or two for quanxi. You'd hear the clink of her keys being placed onto the table before she'd speak.

“How's work been treating you lately? ” Quanxi would say to you, looking at you completely still with a hand propped up under her chin, but still as nonchalant as usual. It was hard to believe she was genuinely interested sometimes.

pouring the chocolate into the bottom of the cup focusedly, to make it look as pretty and perfect as can be, you'd take a second before answering. “Horrible, Actually. This guy yesterday, came in and got mad at me because I forgot to put caramel on top of his frappe. He ended up throwing it on the floor, and of course I had to clean it. ”

Quanxi's eyes would follow the way you carefully made the coffee. The way you'd twirl the cup to make sure it was evenly distributed, and the way you'd add extra for her, even though she didn't ask for it. Nor did she really like how sweet it made the drink, but to her it was an act of kindness.

"Mm."

“Oh! and thennnn I had a lady come in here with her boyfriend and I guess I was a bit too friendly with her and she pulled me to the side and basically threatened me. I'm not one for wanting a guy in general. That was actually around a week ago and she came back a few days ago an—”

the glass pot to steam the milk in would fall to the ground instantly shattering. nothing but the thought of your boss chewing you out rushes into your mind. not only is it expensive to replace, it was definitely coming out of your paycheck. Quanxi wasted no time raising out of her chair and assisting you with cleanup even before you, yourself could process what had happened.

“thank you. god my boss is gonna make me pay for this. . . " you'd say squatting down and beginning to pick up the big chunks of glass first and placing them in your palm. “I'll get it, you might get cut. ” Quanxi would take the glass from out of your hand and continue to pick up where you left off.

"are you sure? I can just get a broom or something." you'd turn away for a second to grab the broom from the back, yet once you come back you find the glass all gone, not a single piece remaining on the floor and a note on the counter, sitting placed under two 10,000 yen notes. (around 140$)

the shock would spread across your face almost in an instant. what the absolute hell? picking up the notes, you'd take the time to read the note she'd left behind.

“𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓻. 𝓾𝓷𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓫𝓮, 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓿𝓮.

𝓠𝓾𝓪𝓷𝔁�� 347-1782.”

✧─── ･｡ﾟ✧: * 🎀 .* :✧. ───✧

tired of there not being fuckin quanxi fics and smut bro. ik u stans r alive ACT LIKE IT!!!! 😡 k hope u enjoyed tho owo also im seriously fucking hoping this isn't ugly on pc bro.. idk but if ur reading fluff n shit on a pc u got balls cuz id cry if i got caught

#quanxi #quanxi smut #quanxi fluff #csm x reader #csm smut #csm fluff #quanxi x reader #wifey is back #quanxi csm #chainsawman

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sweetcarrotsandroses97 · 1 year ago

Text

Winter pt. 2 | JJK

Hello darlings!!!

Pairing: royal guard!Jungkook x princess!Reader, prince!Jimin x princess!Reader (ft. Yoongi & Hoseok)

Summary: In which you, princess of the Gyeongdong Dynasty, were in the middle of wedding plans. An arranged marriage that would guarantee your father's bloodline to stay on the throne.

Or in which you are assigned a new royal guard that swore to protect you with his life. Jeon Jungkook. That's his name. A name you could never forget. A name that, slowly but surely got engraved not only on your memories but also in your heart.

Love, politics, betrayal and desire. All in ancient history. A love that never should have happened, two souls that wouldn't be allowed to be together.

Warnings: angst, fluff, implied smut, pregnancy, descriptions of delivery, pregnancy complications, arranged marriage, blood, character death, heartache, yearning, forbidden love, more angst, Jimin is a sweetheart, heartbreak, fainting, heart disease, Jungkook writes poetry, funeral, mentions of reincarnation, ANGST (WARNINGS APPLY TO BOTH PARTS!) (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 13, 152k words

A/N Hi, darlings! It's been so long since I posted Autumn for you guys and I am so terribly sorry for the months wait. I really hope you will like this third part of "Four Seasons"!

I've been working on this for months now but lately I've found new inspiration to finally finish this and trust me, it will be a total roller coaster! Thank you so much to the people who commented on the other two parts as they all gave me such motivation to return to this story!

A/N I had to divide Winter into two parts because apparently Tumblr doesn't like to have too much paragraphs in one post! The two parts of this long chapter are linked on the masterpost of this series! Please let me know what you thought of this part, I really hope you will like it and it leaves you yearning for more! Without entertaining you further, happy reading, everyone!

💜 Boraghae ARMY 💜

~Taglist for Four Season: @valhallawhispers @lovingkoalaface @seokout @ackercute @jksusawife

Isn't it beautiful how the seasons change?

Isn't it beautiful how you never do?

For you are that summer flower I once saw.

Dressed in delicate petals of love.

You are the snow that freezes my heart.

You are the soft breeze on an autumn day.

My sun during summer and my flower during spring.

But I cannot touch you. I cannot hold you like my soul wishes to do.

My darling. My love. My woman. My soul.

What did I do to not have you by my side?

Is love a crime?

Then I am a criminal, even when it was you who stole my heart.

I miss you. I want you. I need you.

I cannot breathe without you near me.

I prefer death than a fate where we can't be together.

My moon. My sun. My Queen. Owner of my being.

Jungkook jumped in his seat when the door to his room slid open. He placed his brush aside before standing up to face Hoseok.

"The Queen requests your presence in her chambers, Jungkook."

The younger man nodded and placed his papers in order before he left his room following Hoseok through the large corridors of the palace.

It has been three days since you gave birth to Prince Ha-joon. Three agonising days in which he hadn't seen a glimpse of your existence. And it was killing him. His memories of you were too far to grasp and take console in them.

Jungkook didn't recall having to walk all the way from his room to your personal chambers. He didn't remember when Hoseok announced his presence, for he was brought to reality when you spoke his name. Your voice being the only thing that could bring him back from his thoughts.

His eyes met your own in a dance of emotions that he had to clasp his hands in front of him to stop them from shaking.

"You called for me, Your Majesty."

He bowed down at you and you sighed, realising how much you hated when he bowed at you when you'd go on your knees with only a word falling from his lips. He had that power over you. That way to command you. To make you feel.

"Jungkook."

The man before you lifted his gaze and your eyes met his once more. Had it been within any other circumstances, you'd have smiled and ran toward him. How you wish you could embrace him, how you wish you could kiss him and declare your love for him. How you wish you could love him freely.

You were sitting between blankets and cushions, taking rest after the hard labour. The prince lied next to you as he slept soundly while being wrapped up in luxurious fabric.

"I haven't seen you in a while."

He smiled. Not that smile that reached his eyes or that warmed your insides. It made you shiver with the sadness within it. Like a cold breeze on a winter day.

"I was told you were to rest, my Queen. Captain Min ordered me to give you some space, at least until you are feeling better."

You smiled, gesturing for him to sit in front of you, which he did. A moment of silence passed between you both. Your gaze lingered on his handsome features, drawing a map of him in your mind.

"I missed you."

He sighed at your whispered confession. Those words clawed at his heart with nothing but a heavy guilt that existed within him.

"My Queen... please."

You took a deep breath at his pleading, his begging. You looked aside as your heart constricted in your chest.

"Forgive me."

He looked at you with eyes full of emotions you weren't quick enough to grasp. Why must love hurt so much? Jungkook shifted his gaze from your figure, focusing on the little bundle where the prince, your son, slept peacefully.

"Congratulations on your baby. May prince Ha-joon live a long and happy life with his family."

His words weren't cruel, you should have thanked him for his blessings but it only caused you bitterness. Because Jungkook wasn't a part of that family. You had made your life without him and that realisation sank within the caves of your soul in that moment.

All those times you had dreamed, wished, pleaded and imagined your future, Jungkook was always in the picture. He always stood next to you. But fate was a cruel force. That was only a dream. Your reality was different from what you had once wished and still desired deep in your heart.

A life with him. An opportunity to love. For him. For you. To love Jungkook.

"Thank you."

Those words left your lips in a soft whisper. Afraid of speaking any louder, afraid of facing reality once more. There existed enough pain in your life, you didn't want to add salt to the wound but it kept happening. Every time you saw Jungkook you were reminded of your love for him and that distant dream of the future you once saw yourself dancing in.

Life in the palace continued. The days passed, weeks turned into months, months turned into years as the seasons changed. Time was frozen while it escaped at the same time. It made you remember, it made you forget. It made Jungkook let go, it made him yearn.

He guarded you, protected you like he had vowed to. You smiled in your solitude, dreamed in your agony.

Petal of a yielding flower.

Host of my mind.

Lover of a taken heart.

Queen of my life.

I see my universe in your eyes.

Life is not fair,

but neither is death.

For I live in a world of lies.

I own you my smiles,

my tears are yours to be held.

And when I wish my time would end,

I remember what it was to love such beauty on this earth.

My sunrise. My light. My dusk. My night.

Cradle me in your embrace.

Let me live in your heart.

Grant this wish to this poor man.

Or end my life;

for in death shall I find peace from this cruel destiny.

Jungkook sat against a tree, watching you from afar. Your baby boy just turned two years old this summer. Now it was autumn. The leaves were dying, the air was cooler but his love for you still existed in his heart.

You were with Jimin, the both of you were in the garden playing with Ha-joon. Jungkook saw you smile and laugh from where he stood. The jealousy and bitterness he once felt toward the king had melted like ice on a summer day. His soul was filled with the remnants of his feelings. A melancholy lived inside him about the "what if's" of his life, of what had happened.

Jimin had taken some time from his busy schedule to spend it with his little family. He loved seeing you smile, he was happy at that moment. Everything was perfect. Everything was like he had once imagined it to be. His son was already walking around, a bit clumsy but he was too cute to not stare at the little prince.

Ha-joon had your eyes, he had his father's lips as well. He was a really cute combination of his parents who loved the little boy too much.

You watched as Jimin lifted Ha-joon before the both of them fell into a pile of dry leaves. You chuckled, crouching down on the ground after having been running around the place. You panted with a soft smile on your face, printing the image in front of you into your mind forever.

Your husband picked up the little boy in his arms before walking back to where you were. He offered you his hand and you took it as you stood up from the ground.

"Are you fairing, My Queen?"

He asked, a bit of concern behind his words. You nodded, brushing your skirt with delicate movements.

"Yes, I'm just tired of running all around the garden."

Jimin chuckled, looking down at Ha-joon who clung to his neck, also tired after playing for some time now.

"Let's get back then."

His hand grabbed yours as he began to lead you back to the small tent in the garden where a table with fruits and tea rested. It was near a large tree where Jungkook stood writing his poems with words carried by the wind. He saw how the king began to approach and put down his papers and brush before standing up.

He bowed when you and Jimin entered the tent. Your husband handed Ha-joon to one of the damsels with care and soft delicacy.

"Put him to sleep, he's tired."

The young woman nodded, taking the little prince from the king's hold before she left with your son in her arms. You sat down on the soft cushions with Jimin by your side, he poured you a cup of tea with elegance. Just like he had done many moons ago when he was only your fiance.

You thanked him with a soft smile, taking the cup as your fingers brushed his with the motion. Jungkook watched as you took a sip of the hot beverage, his eyes travelled down your profile, taking in how beautiful you looked at that exact moment. Not that you had ever looked ugly to his eyes, but in that precise fragment of time, you looked ethereal. Mesmerizingly beautiful. He didn't have enough words to describe your beauty at that moment.

Jimin was about to take a sip from his own cup of tea when Captain Yoongi came jogging toward the tent. He bowed down at you two before speaking, his voice laced with urgency.

"My king, may I have a quick word with you?"

Your husband sighed silently, putting his cup down on the table before standing up. He glanced down at you for a second only to then walk away with Yoongi by his side. You saw how they discussed something in the distance but you couldn't tell what it was as they were both out of earshot.

You let out a deep breath, putting your own cup next to Jimin's before you looked up at Jungkook.

"Do you want some tea, Jungkook?"

Your question brought him back to reality as he savoured the way his name sounded on your lips. It was the sweetest melody he had ever heard.

But he shook his head. Not allowed to show any emotion on his features.

"No, thank you, My Queen."

The response he gave you sounded dry and it made your heart clench with desire.

"Are you alright? You've been... distant as of lately."

He looked down at you but this time, you didn't see the storms of emotions hidden in his doe eyes. You didn't see anything. And it pained you to know that perhaps he didn't love you anymore. Because you still did. With all your heart.

"I am merely doing my job, Your Majesty."

You wanted so bad to reach up to him and hold his hand, to feel him. For him to ease your chaotic heart.

"Then don't. Please, Jungkook, do not distance yourself from me."

He sighed. It didn't matter how much distance he put between you both, if it were in words or even an ocean in the middle of you two. You always managed to pull him back.

"I have to, My Queen. Otherwise, I won't be able to resist the temptation. I could harm you. I could burn you with the flames of my love. I could destroy the life you have now. I could taint you with my carnal desires. I could do things... unforgivable things and the only wish I have in this life is for you to not be harmed. And for that to happen, I must put distance between us, even when my heart screams your name."

Your eyes filled with tears at his confession. At the revelation of his heart, his desires, his yearning for you. He still loved you, he still wanted you. He would always be yours.

"My heart is yours as well. Do not deny me the pleasure of existing next to you. Your existence is more than enough to soothe my wounded soul, Jungkook."

He bowed at you softly, eyes glazed with his own tears as emotions swirled once more in his dark orbs.

Jimin began walking back and you had to blink back the tears in your eyes. You distracted yourself with your cup of tea as he sat down next to you again.

"What happened? Captain Min looked serious while talking to you."

He smiled at you, eyes closing with the action before answering. His voice was soft and calm, like a summer breeze.

"Nothing to worry you about, Queen of my heart."

You sent him a tight smile, placing the cup on the table. Not feeling in the mood of drinking more tea.

"(y/n), you're bleeding."

Jimin said, causing Jungkook to look at you alarmed as you felt something trailing down your nose. You wiped it only to see that your fingers were painted in crimson. You wiped again and again but the blood continued to flow.

Your husband grabbed a soft handkerchief and pressed it to your nose.

"It's nothing. I probably ran too fast while playing in the garden.

But the king wasn't tranquil with your response. He felt something, as if words were whispered in his ear to not let it be unattended.

"I'll call for a physician."

Your hand grabbed his, something Jungkook didn't miss from where he stood. He watched your tangled hands with your marriage rings on your finger as you stopped your husband from getting up.

"I'm fine, Jimin. I promise. This has happened to me since I was a child. Don't worry, please."

That seemed to calm him down a bit as he settled back on his seat next to you. Holding his handkerchief below your nose as the bleeding began to stop gradually.

"Be careful, alright?"

You nodded at his words, your eyes shifted momentarily to Jungkook's wide gaze and you tried to reassure him as best as you could without a word leaving your lips.

The days were colder with the arrival of winter. Such beauty fell from the grey skies, a beauty that burns with ice.

Jungkook was reminded of your wedding day as he strolled down one of the corridors. The weather, such coldness invaded his mind, his thoughts, his heart; just like that day. When he witnessed you become the wife of another man. When he watched you lose your freedom and your life changed forever.

A feeling of melancholy suddenly invaded his heart, squeezing it with the cold claws of fate.

He took a turn, his mind lost in his own thoughts that he didn't hear the voices in the hallway. Jungkook felt how something suddenly crashed into his legs and he was quick to react and grab the hand of the little boy who was running absentmindedly. The little boy who was your son. The prince of the dynasty.

Ha-joon looked up and Jungkook saw his resemblance to you. He had your eyes. He smiled softly to the boy until Hoseok came jogging to where they stood.

"My prince, come on. Don't run away like that again."

Hoseok said, his eyes trained on the little prince who looked at him and then shifted his gaze back to Jungkook. The younger man let go of the kid's hand and Hoseok was quick to pick him up.

"He's a handful sometimes."

Jungkook chuckled, remembering those summer days when you walked in freedom through the gardens. He saw you in your son as memories swam in his hand.

"I can imagine. Kids at his age are always curious and full of energy."

Hoseok let out a soft laugh, looking at Ha-joon in his arms and also seeing the resemblance of you in him.

"Thanks, Jungkook. He suddenly ran away from me."

"It's no problem. Take care of him, Hoseok."

The older man nodded before he turned around and walked back down the corridor.

"Kook!"

The little prince exclaimed with a wide smile, his lips were plump like his father's and his cheeks puffed out cutely with the motion. Jungkook smiled and waved at the prince who waved back with his little hand before disappearing around the corner in the arms of Hoseok.

He sighed. Once more being left alone with his cold thoughts on a winter day. With frozen hopes and a blurred future.

You were in your room watching how the snowflakes fell slowly to the gardens. Your embroidery was left forgotten on your lap as your mind got lost in your memories.

A knock in your door interrupted your train of thought. You cleared your throat and straightened your posture before saying in a steady voice.

"Come in"

The door slid open and Hoseok entered with Ha-joon in his arms. You smiled at the sight of your child and your best friend set the toddler down as he ran clumsily towards you.

"Mummy!"

You hugged the little prince when he crashed into you and you couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. He was too cute to resist. He began playing with your embroidery as if it were the most interesting thing in the world, tracing his little fingers over the drawings.

"My Queen, the little prince is very eager to explore the palace. Do you want to take him to the gardens and let him play in the snow? Maybe that'd tire him out a bit so that he can sleep soundly tonight."

Your hand caressed your son's dark hair, taking in its softness before you turned your focus back to Hoseok.

"I'm tired, Hobi. I don't think I'd be able to run around in the gardens."

He nodded, eyes shifting to Ha-joon whose world now rotated around your elegant embroidery.

"Do you allow me to speak freely, Your Majesty?"

You nodded at him.

"Of course, I've told you many times that you do not need to ask for such a thing. You are my best friend."

He smiled lovingly.

"Those words are simple formalities, my Queen, but what I wanted to say was that maybe you could accompany us to the gardens. Have some fresh air. I can play with the little prince, but he misses his mother."

You smiled, looking down at Ha-joon who returned your gaze with big eyes.

"Alright then, hand me my coat please and tell one of the damsels to dress the prince warmly."

You stood under the palace roof, a heavy coat over your shoulders as you sipped on some hot tea while watching Hoseok play in the snow with little Ha-joon. A soft smile graced your lips at the sight and the sound of your little boy's giggles.

A shiver ran down your spine when a cold breeze blew your way, strands of hair flying with the wind. Hobi let himself fall on the snow with a dramatic yell, making you laugh as Ha-joon went to lay on his chest.

"Up, up."

The prince said, trying to get Hoseok to stand up and pick him up but the man layed there panting softly.

"I'm tired, my prince. Hold on."

You watched them both fondly, your eyes lowered to the tea in your cup until you felt how your heart skipped a beat.

"Kook!"

Ha-joon had said. Your hands felt cold against the warm cup, your soul froze when you looked up. There he was. Jeon Jungkook. You hadn't seen him in days. And before today there were only small peaks here and there followed by short greetings.

Jungkook turned to look at you, your eyes met his from across the garden. You felt your breath hitch in your throat at the mere sight of him. Your hands trembled around the cup, forcing you to put it away.

He bowed down at you slowly yet his eyes never left yours. Emotions invaded your body as you stood up from your chair. Hoseok noticed your actions and sat up, Ha-joon left his side and ran with his little legs where Jungkook was.

Your royal guard smiled down at your son and Hoseok stood up from the ground, walking the steps to where you stood.

"Your Majesty, are you alright? You look pale, should I walk you to your chambers?"

But you shook your head, your eyes following Jungkook's figure as he approached you with Ha-joon by his side. The little prince was telling him something that you couldn't hear and he smiled widely. Flashed him that bunny smile you loved so much and had missed just as fiercely.

Jungkook bowed down at you once he stood in front of you. Ha-joon looked up at the man next to him and mimicked his actions. Your heart clenched at the sight. Having the man you loved and your child who was your husband's son before you was too much for your heart.

It clenched inside you, it burned, it ached.

"Your Majesty."

Jungkook acknowledged you. You nodded softly at him and he rose to his full height. Ha-joon doing the same.

"Kook! Play, together."

Hoseok watched the interaction from where he stood. His own heart clenched at the sight of your hidden pain. You have always been an open book for your best friend. You had been able to hide your love from your father, even from your husband but not from Hoseok. He had known you for his entire life. He knew you, he knew the core of your heart. He knew your unspoken words. He knew.

"Only if the queen allows it, my prince."

Jungkook's eyes found yours once more. A sad smile painted his lips. Ha-joon was a clear resemblance of you but also of his father and Jungkook was reminded once more of what he had lost the day you married Jimin. Of that dream that he wished would become his reality was instead a mountain of ashes. Of burnt dreams and wishes.

You smiled tightly at the pair in front of you, not wanting to deny sweet Ha-joon of his free days and innocent happiness.

"You may play, but please be careful."

Jungkook bowed down and your little son once more mimicked him with a sweet giggle that would have made you smile had you been in another circumstance. Ha-joon's small hand curled around Jungkook's fingers as he "dragged" him further into the garden. The man clearly gives in to the desires of the child. Not without glancing your way one more time.

You took a deep breath when they were both far away from you. As if you were suddenly able to breathe when he was not near you but playing in the snow as the giggles of your prince were heard. You blinked back the tears that had gathered in your eyes, you wouldn't cry now. It was not the time for that.

"My Queen, please take a seat."

You refused Hoseok's suggestion with a shake of your head. Even if you wanted to move, you couldn't tear your gaze away from Jungkook and Ha-joon playing together.

If only fate had been different.

If only you hadn't been a princess.

If only your story was written with another ending.

Then the scene before you would have been a happy one. But Jungkook was not the father of your child and you didn't want to question your fate with Jimin. It wouldn't be fair to him when he loves you just as ardently as you love Jungkook.

Time slipped from your fingers like water from a river. Cold to the touch. Liquid to the memory. You watched them play and laugh while your heart teared apart within you.

Soft footsteps were heard from your left but you didn't shift your gaze from your giggling little prince.

"My Queen,"

The voice of one of your damsels spoke and you didn't have to look at her to know she was bowing down at you.

"His Majesty requests your presence in the Main Hall."

You took a deep breath, the cold air of winter burned your lungs with the motion but despite the action, you still felt as if you were being suffocated.

"Queen (y/n)."

Your eyes met the worried gazed of Hoseok as uncertainty painted his dark orbs.

"It's alright, take care of Ha-joon for me."

Hoseok bowed down at you as you straightened up your posture and looked at Ha-joon and Jungkook for a moment before you forced yourself to walk away. You weren't aware of the concerned look your best friend gave you nor the longing gaze Jungkook sent your way.

He watched you walk away and despite all the times he had witnessed the same sight, his heart still clenched upon seeing you leaving him behind.

You didn't look back. You couldn't. Your heart wouldn't be able to take it. Each step you took forward hurt like an arrow piercing your heart over and over again. You closed your eyes, taking in the pain in your chest.

Fate gave you the cruellest gift you had ever received. A glimpse of your dream life only to be shattered by reality like ice against a wall. It hurt. Your hands trembled even when you clasped them in front of you to keep them warm. It was useless.

You lived in an eternal winter. Your heart was frozen, your soul had crumbled to a pile of white snow tainted with the ashes of your dreams. It was fair. But life has never been fair to you. To anyone, actually.

But you weren't a victim here. Not anymore. If fate didn't want you and Jungkook together, you'd fight in each and every lifetime to meet with him again and complete your story next to him. You owned it to him, to his love, his devotion. His innocent heart that carried the purest love within him.

Tears clouded your vision and a lump grew in your throat. You weren't a victim, but that didn't mean you couldn't cry about your misfortunes.

The tears began rolling down your cheeks, feeling how your heart ached for a man who would never be yours and a future you couldn't live.

You had to cover your mouth to quiet the sobs that threatened to spill from your lips. For it had been too much for your soul to endure. You had gotten to your breaking point, the point of no-return. It hurt. The mere thought of Jungkook was enough to make your heart clench in your chest.

You took a deep breath, tried to calm yourself as you walked down the large corridors. Your hands wiped your cheeks but the lump in your throat stayed, the pain in your chest didn't fade. Almost as if it had found its home within you.

You were about to meet your husband in the main hall of the royal palace. You couldn't be seen crying and less for another man you yearned so fiercely for. You were the Queen. Mother of the Crown Prince. Wife to the King of Gyeongdong. Daughter of the dynasty.

You had to be strong.

You could cry in private later. But not now. It wasn't your place to do so. A Queen doesn't cry. A Queen is strong. A Queen fights. You sighed, taking strength from your own aching heart to continue walking, to face your reality. To live in this written fate.

Even when your mind was elsewhere, even when your hands trembled and your feet itched to turn back and run into the arms of your lover. Even when your chest didn't stop hurting, you held on. Just like every other time before.

You just held on.

The king sat on his throne, the ministers had just left the large room after their council and he had a deep desire to see his wife. Jimin let out a sigh, his mind going back in the seasons, remembering. Going back in time in his mind.

He remembered your wedding day, he remembered the cool autumn day when he saw you for the first time. He had heard the princess was beautiful but no words were enough to describe your beauty in front of him.

The sound of your voice was forever engraved in his memories, your smile was sweeter than any candy in the world. He had fallen in love with you. He loved you, all of you. There was nothing in this world he wanted more than to spend his life with you. His queen. The mother of his child. The owner of his heart.

Maybe he loved too quickly. Maybe he trusted too soon. But he didn't regret it. Jimin was happy. He was living the life that was planned for him since birth yet he was happy with the fate painted before him. He wanted it. He craved it.

"You're wearing it."

Jimin's voice brought you out of your thoughts. Looking up at him with a confused look, he elaborated while a chuckle escaped his lips.

"The hairpin. You are wearing it. I'm glad you like it."

You nodded at him with a small smile.

"It's really beautiful."

You weren't going to lie about that. It was truly one of the best jewellery pieces you'd ever seen. The Prince's cheeks tinted a soft shade of pink, a shy smile over his lips. He stopped out of a sudden and you halted in your steps. Looking up at him with curiosity, Jimin grabbed one of your hands between his and said while his eyes were glued to your joined hands.

"I'll speak without formalities for once as this is something I need you to know not as a Prince but as your fiancé."

You nodded and he continued.

"(y/n)..."

Your name in his lips was sweet, said with such delicacy and devotion. A sweetness similar to your favourite fruit.

"... I'm so glad it is you who I am going to marry. After we get married and the coronation ceremony is completed, I want you to know that you will always be my equal as the Queen of Gyeongdong. I know we were arranged but I sincerely hope we can grow something from this.

You will always be treated fairly, I promise. And I'm so lucky to have such a beautiful fianceé."

You couldn't help the smile that graced your lips. It was a grateful smile. You knew he wouldn't force you to do anything, he would always respect you and give you your place. The Prince of the Park family was a good man with a noble soul; a gentleman who was going to become a great ruler.

"Thank you, Jimin. I really appreciate that."

He smiled. His eyes closed with the action and you couldn't help but think it was cute. He had a pretty smile, you had to admit that.

The memory flashed in front of his eyes in a second. You still wore that hairpin he had given you. You liked it, he had watched you admire it and it fueled his pride as your husband.

“What are you all doing standing here? Don´t you know she could get sick with this?”

Growled the prince at a nearby royal guard who cowered at the imposing tone of the man. Jimin was seen among the palace staff as a sweet and loving personality who was made to receive and give love in each of his lifetimes. That’s why the guard felt suddenly so intimidated as the prince had never acted nor spoken in such a way.

“We are aware, Your Royal Highness. But the Princess ordered us to not interfere. She said she'll kneel until the counsellor's son is safe. There was no way of persuading her!”

Jimin cursed under his breath as his feet carried him towards you. He didn’t care about the rain, about the stares of the maids and staff, he didn’t care about anything else other than you.

You were kneeling on the cold stone floor. The palace was in front of you in all its glory but you could only care about your best friend. Why was life so complicated? When has your life tangled itself up with these kinds of problems?

Why did summer end so suddenly?

Your tears rolled down your cheeks, mixing with the pouring rain that fell from the greying skies. A chilly breeze made a shiver run up your spine but you weren’t going to leave. You weren’t going to surrender that easily so you stood firmly, ignoring the pain in your knees, ignoring the coldness in your skin. Ignoring the sadness in your heart and not minding the tears that escaped your eyes.

But suddenly, you didn’t feel the rain any longer. The chilly air didn’t attack your back any more and you had to look up to find the source of such a blessing only to be met by the profile of the Prince of the Park family, he was looking forward not seeming to mind the cold rain that was quick to drench him. His right arm extended his outer robe over you, keeping the rain from cooling you any further.

He looked down, feeling your gaze on him only to be met with your drenched figure. Your eyes were red and puffy, filled with tears. And he felt his heart clench at the sight of your pain. If he was able to take it away he would do it in a heartbeat. You didn’t deserve such a burden. Such pain.

And he made a silent promise to himself that once you both got married, he would move mountains for him to see you smile.

You deserved it, after all.

Everyone deserves happiness. Even you, the beautiful Princess everyone thought had it all but in the end, you were just lonely. Broken by the mends of society.

Jimin took a deep breath, memories of you began to flash in front of his eyes like raindrops. Unstoppable. He felt a sudden need to see you, be with you, hear your voice. So he stood up from his throne and walked out of the main hall in hopes of meeting you in one of the main corridors.

Urgency carried his steps, feeling a darkness enclose his heart in cold ice of desperation. He needed to see you. Jimin didn't know why such urgency had taken control of him but he couldn't fight it. He walked and rounded a corner, seeing you standing on the other end.

He smiled.

A window was behind you, the white gardens stood in the background as he took in the image of you. You just stood there, not even looking at him but lost in your mind. At least that was what he saw, he began to approach you.

He saw you frown and he halted in his steps for a second. But that second dictated his fate once more as he submerged in a cold river, surrounded by water of fear that froze his bones.

Your hand went up to your chest as you pressed onto it. You gasped, feeling how your heart ached within you. But this time it was worse, worse than the subtle pain you felt there every time your thoughts drifted to Jungkook and that lost future living in the land of dreams. This pain was different.

Your hand clutched the silk of your dress as you took a step forward, your other hand grabbing a table resting against the wall with a vase on it to try and find your balance once more.

You heard footsteps from your right and you turned only to see Jimin walking down to where you stood with worry on his face. Tears gathered in your eyes due to the pain.

"Jimin..."

He could barely hear his whispered name leave your lips before he saw you take a step towards him but you tumbled, hitting the table and making the vase fall and crash against the wooden floor as you collapsed before him.

He rushed to you in panic as fear wrapped around his heart. Jimin cradled you in his arms as he checked for a pulse, tears gathered in his eyes at the sight of you but he couldn't help but sigh upon noticing you were still alive.

"My darling... (y/n), open your eyes. Please..."

Yoongi was rounding the corner when he gasped at the image in front of him. He was quick to approach the desperate king with fast steps.

"Your Majesty, what happened? Is she alright?"

Jimin didn't turn to look at the slightly older man, one of his hands caressed your face delicately, as if you were a soft summer flower.

"I don't know, call the physician. I'll take her to my quarters."

Your husband felt his heart clench at the sight of you so vulnerable and weak in his hold. Captain Min bowed down at the king before he stood up and ran in the opposite direction.

Jimin picked you up in his arms, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes as he held you tightly against him. The scene he had just witnessed was something he'd never forget, for it had been horrible to see you in what he could guess was pain. He hated to see you like that and now, as you were being cradled in his embrace, a fire burned within him.

Flames of fear combined with fuel of anger at your state. He pressed an almost harsh kiss against your temple, murmuring in your hair words only meant for you to hear.

"Hold on, My Queen. You'll be alright. I promise."

Jimin laid next to you, supporting your body in his strong hold. The royal physician was examining you. He could feel his heart squeezing in his chest. Worry fueled his soul and fear set it aflame.

Time tickled by slowly, everything was moving too slow. Everything felt too hollow. Everything was colourless. The royal physician held her breath as she took your pulse. The room stilled. No-one dared to move, let alone breathe.

She let out a sigh and retrieved her touch from your soft skin. Jimin looked up in anxiety. Waiting, expecting, needing to know what the elderly woman had to say.

"What is it? Is she alright? Speak, woman!"

She didn't flinch at the king's desperate tone as she kept her gaze low while clasping her hands in her lap.

"Your Majesty... it's a heart disease. I think the Queen has always had it but since her rather difficult birth... it came alive, so to speak."

Jimin didn't know what to say, his soul ached at the sight of you in his arms as endless possibilities came rushing to his mind like lightning during a storm.

"Can you cure her?"

He already knew the answer to that question. A hand of his came to caress your cheek softly while tears gathered in his brown eyes that gazed lovingly down at you. He knew the answer to his own question yet your husband held onto that last sliver of hope his soul refused to let go.

"I can give her something for the pain, My King."

Was the physician's answer. Her voice delicate, words being carefully selected.

"Yes, but can you cure her?"

Her eyes met the intense gaze of the king as he turned to look at the woman dressed in a blue hanbok. A tear escaped his eye as it rolled down his cheek slowly while his heart was beating wildly in his ribcage.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty."

If someone had stabbed him with a thousand arrows Jimin was sure would have hurt less than those four words that left the woman's lips. He cradled you against him, pressing your limp form to him as if he could prevent the horrid fate that awaited you from taking you from his side.

"Leave. I want to be alone."

The royal physician stood up and bowed down at the broken man along with the maids and guards in the room at the whispered command of their king.

The door slid shut and silence drowned the room. He was left alone with you but this wasn't a joyous moment. Jimin lied you down on the bedding beneath you as tears rolled down his cheeks. His hand held yours with a delicate touch as his eyes roamed over your figure.

"You cannot leave me, (y/n). You can't. You belong here, with me, with Ha-joon. You cannot leave me alone."

But those words didn't reach your ears. You didn't hear his begging, his pleading. And he only held you tighter. Wishing that this was just a sick nightmare of his.

"Please... Queen of my heart. Do not leave us behind."

One of Jimin's hands fisted the soft fabric of your dress, needing to ground his thoughts, to be in the present and stop his mind from picturing all the horrible scenarios in his head.

"Do not abandon me in a world without you by my side."

Fate was cruel. Jimin loved you but now you were going to be robbed from him. He didn't know when, he didn't know how much time he had left with you, he didn't know how much pain you'd have to endure. He didn't know he'd have so little time next to you and that fact pained him beyond words.

"I need you, Queen of mine. I love you."

Words weren't enough to change fate. He knew it. He knew everything yet he still tried. He pleaded to the heavens to not take you, to not rob you in such a cruel way.

"I love you, (y/n)."

But love wasn't enough to save you from death. Love wasn't strong enough to keep you next to your husband. To watch your son grow into a fine prince that would rule the kingdom one day. Love wasn't enough. It had never been.

Jimin knew that but he still cried. He still pleaded, he still hoped.

Snow fell wildly outside, the wind could be heard when you opened your eyes and found yourself in Jimin's room, rather than your own. You had been resting in his bedroom for some days now, not really sure how many.

Hoseok was by your side the next second as he helped you sit up, he didn't speak a word and your heart shook within you at the sight of your distressed friend. You watched as he prepared your medicine, silence fell into the room as the candles flickered in the middle of the night.

"Please take your medicine, My Queen."

He spoke, holding the spook with the tonic you had been taking for so long, it seemed.

"Don't make me take it again, Hobi. It's too sour."

He sighed, eyes lowering onto his lap but still holding out the spoon to you.

"Please, Your Majesty. It'll help you get better."

You took a deep breath as you leaned forward and opened your mouth, taking the medicine like your friend wanted you too. Even when you shut your eyes shut and scrunched your nose at the taste, you managed to swallow it.

"I won't get better, Hobi. You know it too."

You weren't a stranger to your disease, Jimin told you himself about your predicament. You remember how your heart broke at the sight of his distress, his eyes were red and puffy, shining with new tears that he refused to let go. His hands shook as they held yours.

Hoseok sighed and the soft noise brought you out of your thoughts. He put the spoon and bottle aside as his eyes locked with your own and you were able to see the sorrow in his usually cheerful gaze.

"I know. I'm sorry, My Queen."

Your hand rested atop his as a soft yet sad smile was painted over your lips.

"Don't apologise. Don't be sad. Don't cry. Why don't you bring me some fish-shaped pastries and you tell me what Ha-joon did today?"

He nodded with a smile that didn't reach his eyes before standing up without saying a word. Hoseok walked down the corridors back to the king's chamber where you were resting with a round container in his hands where the pastries rested. He couldn't help but let his mind wander back to those summer days when you were still a princess and your worries revolved around what silk to choose for your next dress.

He wanted to go back to those golden days when the sun shone brightly and warmth filled the palace.

"Princess!"

You turned around at the sound of the voice of one of your closest people in the palace. The royal counsellor's son and a dear friend of yours, Jung Hoseok.

When he arrived next to you a smile was painted over his lips, he bowed down at you making you frown a bit.

"Stop it, I've told you many times before that you don't have to bow in front of me."

He chuckled, his hands behind his back as he straightened back up.

"Yes, I have. There are so many guards and court ladies that could see and that wouldn't be good for me, princess."

You sighed at his answer. He had said it time and time again but you just wanted to have a normal friendship, was that too much to ask? Maybe it was. At least for now.

"I'm sorry, you are right. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble because of me."

Hoseok smiled and that made a small smile paint over your own lips. That was a power only he had, he would smile and it would make you smile too.

"It's alright, I can be sneaky when I want. Especially to the kitchen. They never knew when I was there."

That made you let out a snort before laughing completely. Forgetting about proper manners or who could be watching you at that moment, you just lived that fragment of time. Enjoy it how it should be enjoyed.

"Speaking of..."

He continued, bringing his hands in front of him only for you to notice the small package covered with white fabric. You smiled widely at him.

"...I managed to sneak out some fish-shaped pastries."

You let out a squeal while Hoseok unwrapped the package and opened the lid for you to see he had bought your favourite dessert.

"Thank you, Hobi! I've been craving this since last week!"

With that, you took one and immediately began eating it, savouring the sweet flavour inside your mouth as you closed your eyes for a moment.

"Why didn't you just order for the maids to bring some pastries to your room, your highness?"

You sighed, swallowing the sweet treat only for then to say, your joyous face turning slightly sombre when the bubble of happiness was suddenly popped with reality.

"I am not allowed to eat anything like this, at least not until my wedding day. King's orders."

Hoseok's eyes widened in surprise at your words. Panic flared through his features as he came to the sudden realisation that he was disobeying the king's direct order. He looked around frantically, searching for people nearby that had witnessed him giving you the pastries while you continued to munch on another bite of the sweet treat.

The next thing he did, however, made your eyes widen as the remainder of the fish-shaped sweet was taken from your hand rather abruptly only for Hoseok to throw it in his mouth at the end. It all happened too fast you were left staring at your best with a dumbfounded face.

"Yah! Why did you d-"

You cut your sentence when you spotted one of the court ladies followed by a group of maids appearing in your peripheral vision. You quickly straightened your back while Hoseok hid the package he was holding behind his back, swallowing the remains of the pastry he took from your hands.

The court lady bowed when she stood in front of you, the other maids mirroring her actions. When she stood back up, she said, her voice cold and her attitude as strict as always.

"My Lady, His Majesty; The King, has requested your presence at the main hall."

You curtsided softly, a soft smile on your face.

"Thank you, I shall go there immediately."

And with that, you turned around and began walking along the large gardens with Hobi following you at a proper distance. When you rounded a corner and were out of the court lady's sight, you sighed. Hoseok caught up to you and you smiled at him.

"Thanks, Hobi."

Those whispered words made him smile, he looked back before saying.

"I should probably go back, I'll see you later, princess."

You nodded at him with a soft smile over your beautiful features and he bowed slightly at you only for then to fast-walk to the opposite direction from where you stood. You were left alone again and took a deep breath before you continued on your way to the throne room where your presence was requested.

The memory flashed in front of his eyes in an instant. His heart filled with melancholy at the lost memory in the past before he slid open the bedroom door and found you asleep on the bedding.

Hoseok sighed, putting the pastries aside as he went to blow away some of the candles to let you sleep peacefully.

If only he could take away your pain, your disease, he would. For he remembered how you saved him from death when he was falsely accused of treason, he remembered your desperation. Hoseok was your best and only friend in the palace and he only wished he could repay the favour of saving his life with now saving your own, even if he knew that was not possible.

"The Queen hasn't left the King's chambers for a while."

"I wonder if she's alright."

"I've seen the royal physician go in and out a couple of times."

Jungkook had heard this and more rumours around the palace. He wasn't going to lie, he was worried about you. He hasn't seen you since that day when he was playing with the little prince in the white gardens.

Maybe she's pregnant again.

That was his main thought and final conclusion. Not wanting to ponder on the idea that much to save himself the heartache. He entered the guard's palace, going straight to his room. Dusk had already settled and the night was cold.

"Yah! Jungkook! Do you know what happened to Her Majesty?"

He stopped in his tracks and turned around, seeing a bunch of younger guards eating some ramen in the corner of the common hall.

"What do you mean?"

He asked. A frown adorning his handsome features. One of the guards stood up from the small table and walked over to Jungkook.

"Do you know why the Queen has not been seen around anymore? Rumours said she is pregnant again."

Jungkook looked past him at the bundle of men gathered in silence to listen to what he had to say.

"Why would I know? I've been taking care of His Highness as of lately."

The man in front of him scoffed, looking back at his peers before glancing back at Jungkook.

"Aren't you the Queen's royal guard? Shouldn't you be with her at all times?"

Jungkook sighed, feeling his patience leave his body quickly. He turned around, waving a hand to the man who wished to pester him with his questions.

"I don't have time for this."

"Why? Are you the prince's babysitter now?"

Jungkook closed his eyes, wanting to disappear from that exact second.

"What's going on here?"

Captain Min's voice boomed around the common room, making everyone go silent, even the men who were only watching and snickering in the corners.

"Nothing, Captain."

"Nothing."

Jungkook and the man in front of him answered at the same time. Yoongi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Go back to your table, Kwon. Jeon, come with me."

The latter nodded, sending a final glare to the man whose surname was now to his knowledge. Yoongi dragged Jungkook to another room with more privacy. He turned around, eyes softening at the sight of his friend.

"What is it?"

Yoongi's question was delicate, a soft tone only certain people had heard of the stoic man.

"I haven't seen her in days, Yoongi. I don't know what is going on and it's killing me on the inside."

The older man let out a sigh, pondering if he should tell Jungkook about your condition or if that information would only stress him further.

"You know, don't you?"

Yoongi looked up only to meet Jungkook's big and sad eyes.

"Yes. But I do not know if you should be aware of her situation or if it will cause you more harm."

Jungkook's heart constricted in his chest with those words. A part of him didn't want to know. He didn't want to risk the heartache, so many possibilities swarmed his head that it made him dizzy.

"Tell me. Please."

He whispered and Yoongi sighed once more. He knew of Jungkook's innocent yet strong feelings for you and he'd hate to break his precious heart but his wish was his right.

"She's sick, Jungkook. The physician examined her a couple of days ago and she said the Queen was born with a weak heart and her long labour worsened her condition. She said there was no cure."

A tear escaped his eye slowly, his heart ached deep within him at the information. You were sick? If you had had it since birth, why weren't you more careful? But all those thoughts did nothing to alleviate his pain.

"I'm sorry, Kook."

Said Yoongi with a heavy voice. In sympathy for his friend for he knew this kind of pain. He was no stranger to heartache. He understood.

"Would you like me to stay or do you want to be alone?"

"I want to be alone, hyung."

His response was empty. Colourless. Cold. Yoongi nodded without saying another word. He quietly walked out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Jungkook closed his eyes as silent tears rolled down his cheeks. He took it all in. The pain. The heartache. The distress. The despair. He welcomed it all and allowed himself to cry in his solitude as snow fell from the sky on a cold winter night with no apparent morning sun to warm his soul.

A couple of days later you were still in Jimin's room. Hoseok was playing with Ha-joon as you watched them fondly. You didn't have the energy to stand anymore. The disease was deteriorating you, killing you. A part of you believed it was due to the heartache you had gone through that now you were being punished with a heart disease.

How ironic, isn't it?"

Ha-joon laughed, distracting you from your sombre thoughts. You looked at your son, watching as he laughed and enjoyed his time. The little prince hadn't seen you for weeks since you fell sick and he missed you immensely.

"My prince, come here."

You spoke, opening your arms for the little boy. His eyes lit up as he left his toys on the ground and ran towards you. The impact of his little body against yours was enough to leave you breathless.

Hoseok watched as you embraced your son with pain, as if he were to leave and you didn't want to let go.

"I love you so much, you know that, right?"

Ha-joon nodded in your chest before he gazed up at you with a cute smile. You smiled as well, trying to blink the tears that began to moisture your eyes.

"You'll be a worthy Crown Prince one day and the most respected king of Gyeongdong when you grow up. I love you so much, my little prince."

"Mummy..."

Ha-joon put his little hand on your cheeks, lovingly gazing into your eyes as your heart broke into a million pieces realising you weren't going to see him grow and become a great man. Your time in this place was slipping through your fingers like water in your hands.

"I love you too, mummy."

You hugged Ha-joon as your eyes met with Hoseok's sad gaze. He offered you a smile and you did your best to return the gesture, even when your heart was aching, from the disease or from your own pain you couldn't tell anymore.

It had always been a similar pain.

Always there, always cold. Always present in your life.

That night was cold. Hoseok had taken Ha-joon to his own room and verified he was sleeping before returning to tend to you. Jimin hadn't arrived yet as he was busy tending to some ministers and political matters you were no longer aware of.

"The prince fell asleep quickly, Your Majesty. I left Eun-ah to watch him during the night."

You nodded with a smile. Feeling your eyes drop with tiredness. You were already settled for the night, ready to close your eyes and sleep even when your exhaustion wouldn't leave your body.

"Thank you, Hobi. You should go and rest too, you look tired."

For he did. His skin was paler than usual and bags rested under his eyes. You could see it and it pained you to see your best friend so tired and sad all the time.

But he shook his head, a melancholic feeling swam in his warm eyes as he looked at you.

"I would like to wait until His Majesty is with you, My Queen. I do not wish for you to be alone."

Your hand rested over his and he turned to look at you meeting your eyes filled with tears.

"Hobi... what would I do without you?"

He only smiled, not saying a word. Not wanting to break the soft moment so you continued.

"Thank you for being my friend all these years. Thank you for always being by my side and for giving me your friendship."

A tear left his eye and rolled down his honeyed skin at your words. Realising that this was your goodbye to him.

"Please take care of Ha-joon for me. He is really fond of you, Hobi."

He nodded, feeling how his emotions choked him. It pained him to even think of you leaving his side. You, his best friend. His only companion, his princess since childhood.

"I promise, sweet Queen of mine."

You smiled at his whispered promise, squeezing his hand softly. The door slipped open and entered your husband. Hoseok let go of your hand as he stood up in a swift movement. He bowed down at the king before he left the bedroom in silence.

"How are you feeling, Queen of my heart?"

Jimin asked as he knelt in front of you. You smiled. Feeling how your heart ached in the cage that was your body.

"I'm fine, my King."

He knew you were lying. He knew your words weren't true to your reality. He knew it all. He knew you. But he chose to not mind your lies for he didn't know how much time he'd be gifted by your side. He smiled, allowing his hand to cradle the side of your face as he looked at you with pure adoration in his dark eyes.

"Say it. Let me hear my name on your lips. Grant me that wish, grant me that honour."

You swallowed, knowing how much your condition was killing your sweet husband from the inside.

"King of my existence. My Jimin. My sweet husband."

He smiled sadly. His hand left your cheek and took your hand instead, feeling how you gripped weakly onto it.

"I love you, (y/n)."

You could only smile fondly at his declaration of love. His eyes twinkled at your reaction.

"Do you also share my sentiment?"

He asked almost shyly, looking down at his hand that covered yours.

"Of course. How couldn't I?"

Jimin's eyes met yours as he smiled. His gesture was priceless for your words of affirmation was the only thing he cherished to hear, the only melody he wished to always remember and a verse of a poem that would never end.

"Didn't you have an important meeting with some ministers?"

Your voice broke the silence that hung in the room. You sat facing a large mirror, staring at your own reflection while Jimin was behind you brushing your hair with a golden comb. Your back rested against his chest, your hair rested over your shoulder as he brushed it with delicacy.

"I have more important things to attend to right now. Do not bother yourself with such thoughts, Queen of my heart."

You blushed softly at his words, looking down at your hands resting on your lap. It wasn't snowing outside but the room was cold, shivers ran through your body from time to time despite the closeness of your husband and the many blankets around you two.

"Jimin, can you promise me something?"

He didn't allow the frown that threatened to appear between his brows mark his soft features. He nodded, eyes searching your own through the mirror despite you having your gaze down.

"I'd give you the moon and stars in a golden tray if they were mine to possess in the first place."

You smiled softly, hating to break his heart with your next words. Hating your own fate and feeling your heart constrict within you at the mere thought of his pain the next moment you were to speak.

“Please don’t lose your smile after I’m gone.”

His eyes lost their spark. The softness in his features disappeared like a burning flame splashed with the water of reality. Your hand grabbed his and at his silence, you continued.

“Tell Ha-joon that his mother loved him so much.”

Tears gathered in your husband’s eyes, his mind realising this was your goodbye to him but his heart refused to believe his time with you was this short. He didn’t accept that he’d have to let go this sudden.

“And live every day as if it's your last.”

The crystalline pearls of sadness rolled down his cheeks, his hands squeezed yours as his eyes locked with your own.

“I’ll find you in my next lifetime, Queen of my heart.”

Jimin brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against your skin. As if wanting to seal his love with that small gesture.

“Thank you, Jimin. For your love and your respect. Don’t lose your spark, don’t cry those precious tears and allow your heart to heal if I broke it without wanting to. Forgive me.”

He sobbed, not wanting to let go of your hand as if that could prevent you from leaving his side. The sound of his sobs and cries shattered your heart and tears of your own began leaking down your cheeks in silence while you witnessed him mourn your fate.

"There's nothing to forgive. I could never be mad at you, not even if you were to kill me with your own hands."

His hands pressed you against him. Needing to feel you close to him. Needing this moment, this memory to be engraved in mis mind and soul so that he could seek solace in it when his heart cried in the darkness.

You closed your eyes, leaning back against your husband who cried his heart out, whose world was going to be taken away from him. You mourned his sadness while your heart broke at the thought of leaving your little family behind. Leaving your life, your love in a cruel world.

The apple of my eyes.

Woman of my heart.

Enchantress of love.

Mistress of my soul.

The days are longer.

I miss you. I need you.

My love gets stronger.

I cry over my solitude.

Did we ever have a chance?

Do I deserve the happiness you bring to this world?

Am I worthy of your hand?

Am I enough to a jewel like you?

Do I deserve your devotion?

Is it cruel of me to want you?

Ever so fiercely. So fully.

My darling. My Queen. My lover. My everything.

Live in my heart forever.

Stick in my mind to eternity.

Don't leave this man to suffer with your absence.

Don't leave me to burn in my own ashes.

A sudden knock on his door made Jungkook break out of his trance, he put the brush down and stood up as the door slid open and he was met with Hoseok. His eyes were casted down, not meeting the soft gaze of the royal guard.

“Jungkook, the Queen requests your presence in His Majesty’s chambers.”

The younger man’s heart sped up at the thought of seeing you. He hadn’t been able to even get a glimpse of you since that day in the gardens. His soul was desperate to see you, his heart screamed at him to go and search for you. It was torture, to separate two lovers, that is.

Jungkook nodded, not missing the way Hoseok’s demeanour was different. He looked sad, worried. Cold. He wished he could ask him what was wrong but feared he’d be overstepping a line with the slightly older male who was a dear friend of yours.

"Thank you, I'll go there immediately."

Hoseok nodded with a soft movement before he stepped out of the room. Jungkook sighed, arranging his papers correctly before heading out the door.

His feet carried him along the large and cold corridors of the palace. His heart was in his throat as nerves bubbled in his stomach.

Jungkook was a brave soldier. He has fought many battles as scars adorned his body. He has been on the verge of death several times before but ironically, right now was when he felt more nervous than when he was holding a sword in his hand.

He took a deep breath, standing in front of the King's chambers. He hesitated for a second, not knowing what he'd hear from your lips at the other side of that door. He didn't know how he would react after not having seen you in so many days he has already lost count of.

He knocked only to hear your command for him to come in. Your voice was soft, weak even. But that didn't matter when butterflies erupted in his stomach at the mere sweet sound of your voice.

Jungkook entered the room the next second, he slid the door closed behind him while he kept his eyes trained on the dark wood below his feet.

"Jungkook."

His name coming from your lips was the sweetest melody he has ever heard. He had missed it. He had missed you. His eyes locked with yours and he nearly gasped at the sight of you laying on the soft bedding, your skin was paler than usual, your eyes were tired and your body was beyond weakened.

"Your Majesty."

He acknowledged you. Bowing softly at you without tearing his gaze from you. He saw you shift in your position, laying on your left side so you could see him properly. You smiled and in an instant his dark world was lightened by your existence.

"Come closer, Jungkook. Come here."

Your hand extended towards him as if trying to reach him. He couldn't hold himself back any longer upon your innocent request as his legs moved with a mind of their own. Nearly jumping until he was kneeling by your side, his hand holding yours ever so softly.

“I heard… I heard that you are sick, my Queen. Is it true?”

Jungkook asked almost shyly. Not meeting your eyes as his own gaze was fixed on your joined hands.

“It is.”

He sighed at your response. Feeling how his heart clenched within him. Tears watered his dark eyes and a lump grew in your throat at the sight of his sadness.

“Don’t cry, Jungkook. Don’t waste your tears over me.”

He looked up at you, his expression hurt with your words. A frown was between his brows, eyes watered with his materialised sadness and a soul that he could no longer carry on his own.

“How can you say that to me? I am dying with you, my Queen. Only you are capable of causing me the greatest pain yet it is you who eradicates it as well.”

You squeezed his hand, feeling your chest aching. Your mind was shutting down as you gazed at the man you loved with your entire being.

“Forgive me.”

He shook his head, refusing to let his tears roll down his cheeks as his eyes roamed over your face as if trying to memorise all your little details in his mind.

“It is I who should beg for forgiveness. I cannot protect you from this, I have failed you. I cannot prevent you from leaving me.”

A tear left the corner of your eye as you looked at him with so many unsaid things and raging emotions you were never able to pour out. It was too much. Too much love. Too much longing. Too much sadness. Too much anger. Your heart couldn’t take it any more.

“Maybe you can’t make me stay, but you gave me the opportunity of knowing what it was to love. Even when we couldn’t be together in the end, I still love you. I will always love you, Jungkook. In each… in each lifetime.”

Both of his hands squeezed your own, feeling your grip on them weaken by the second. What kind of punishment is this? To love you so fiercely, so wholeheartedly only to be snatched from him like this? What did he do in his past life to deserve such pain, such misfortune, such punishment?

Is love a crime?

“You still wear it, huh?”

He asked, sniffling softly while his eyes locked with the small red braided bracelet he had given you that autumn day. When life was kinder. When it wasn’t as cold as winter. When he still held hope for happiness. When life was simpler...

“I never took it off.”

You whispered, smiling up at him as your eyes traced his features.

“I love you, Jungkook.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks, not being able to stop them any longer. He smiled through his tears, needing to say the words back to you.

“And I love you, (y/n). I’ll love you in every lifetime, in every form, in any timeline. I will always love you.”

You chuckled softly, squeezing his hand with all the strength you had left in your body.

“You’ve said it. Thank you.”

He smiled down at you. Remembering how you once pleaded to him to speak your name, to hear it come from his lips. He could no longer deny you such pleasure. He wished he had said it that time.

“I’ll see you again. I’ll see you in my next lifetime.”

Jungkook nodded, taking a deep breath while not being able to look away from you. He wouldn’t dare to.

“I’ll find you. I promise.”

You smiled. Butterflies erupted in your stomach when he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. Your eyes closed as you relished on the feeling of his lips against your skin.

“I love you, my Queen.”

That was the last thing you heard before darkness fully enveloped you. The smile from your lips disappeared as your hand fell limp in Jungkook’s grasp. He sobbed, pressing your hand against his cheek only to feel your skin already cooling down. His other hand caressed your cheek with delicacy, his lips trembled and his tears couldn’t stop from leaving his waterline.

A pain in his chest settled forever. Dying would have been more merciful than living like this. Jungkook lived in an eternal winter. The coldness was taking everything from him. Freezing his heart, leaving his memories covered with frost. Everything was cold. Your hand, his heart, his life. Everything was cold. That was the only thing he could feel. Only the coldness of his reality was covered in a deep and thick layer of white snow; the colour of sorrow. The colour of nothing.

All in an eternal winter of pain with no spring in sight. His hopes died with you, he had died with you. Only his heart was still beating. But death had claimed him as well, cursed him with the coldness of sorrow and a lost love for eternity.

The funeral was held three days later. Ministers and people from the village were all mourning their Queen. They all dressed in white robes, standing in the large palace gardens as they knelt on the cold ground.

The king walked in the middle of the golden path with Ha-joon by his side. His small hand in his own as the both of them walked toward where your casket was. Some of the people were crying, others were praying as they all shared the king’s sorrow.

Hoseok, Yoongi, Jungkook and your father were guarding your casket, waiting for your husband to arrive and complete the ceremony. Their hearts were heavy, the skies were grey as little snowflakes fell down from the thick clouds.

Ha-joon ran to where Hoseok stood, burning his face in his robes as he began to cry silently. Jimin’s heart clenched at the sight of his son mourning the death of his mother. He placed a red rose in between your hands, accommodating your red bracelet on your wrist. He had seen you wear it everyday so it should stay with you in your final resting place. He turned to look at the people, his face cold, missing your warmth next to him. He could no longer cry, his tears were gone only leaving a deep hole in his heart.

“Let’s give the Queen the goodbye she deserves.”

Jimin spoke to his people who all rose to their feet. Yoongi and Jungkook along with two more guards began carrying your casket made of crystal with golden details down the palace entrance. A tear rolled down Jungkook’s cheek when he spotted the bracelet he made for you still attached to your wrist.

The king was walking in front of them while Hoseok walked with Ha-joon behind them. The slightly older man was crying silently while holding your son’s hand in his.

“I miss mummy.”

Jungkook closed his eyes at the prince’s words. Hoseok sighed and picked the child up in his arms, hugging him to his chest while continuing to walk down the frozen path.

“We all do, my prince. We all do.”

That night, Jimin found solace in the darkness of his room. He sighed at the empty feeling of the place he once shared with you. Ha-joon was sleeping in his bedding, neither of them wanting to be alone after your passing. A lone tear left his eyes, rolling down his cheek slowly.

He looked to where Ha-joon was sleeping soundly and let out a deep sigh. Jimin knew facing this new reality was going to be tough for him as a husband who lost his wife and for Ha-joon who lost his mother while the kingdom lost their Queen.

He felt his heart freeze with the remnants of your love. No other woman would ever be in your place while he lived. No other woman would ever sit next to him in the throne and Ha-joon won’t call another woman “mother”. He couldn’t betray you like that. He couldn’t discard his love for you that easily.

Winter settled in his heart, frost covered his heart and memories. There were no more summer days and spring was never going to arrive in Jimin. For he was also cursed by the coldness of sorrow forever.

The moon rose high in the sky that night, being the only source of light for Jungkook as he left the palace grounds in silence. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. He was going to leave that place of golden memories for they were now shattered in fragments of ice. You were no longer there to warm his days in the palace. You were no longer there to smile at him from a distance. Your absence killed him. Froze him.

His footsteps got covered by the snow falling from the skies, his silhouette was soon lost to the eye as he walked among the snow and the darkness of the night.

I’ll find you, I promise.

His own words resonated in his mind. With each step he took, he felt how another layer of ice covered his heart. No other woman would ever enter his heart for he was sealing it with the chains of his sorrow.

No-one ever saw Jungkook after that night. Some people said he went to a little village to live between his solitude and his poems. Others said he married a woman with great semblance to the late Queen. Others said he died, either by his own hand or by a heart disease.

No-one exactly knew what happened to First Officer Jeon Jungkook after the Queen’s funeral. Not even Yoongi, who found his friend’s room empty the next morning. Everything was placed neatly and only a single sheet of paper laid on his wooden desk with a poem written on it.

Yoongi folded the paper and put it in his pocket, feeling loneliness creep up into his heart at Jungkook’s leaving. Yet his friend’s heartache was stronger, he had to leave and Yoongi understood. He knew he’d never see Jungkook again so he could only wish him luck in whatever he may venture in next. His love poem was kept in his possession for all his life. Reading it from time to time and feeling Jungkook’s pain through the only thing he left behind, his words. His heart poured out on a sheet of paper.

You have poisoned me with your love.

Like a drug.

An addiction only you can control.

And now you are gone, taking my life with your own.

I am dead in ever sense of the word,

yet my heart still beats inside me.

What kind of punishment is this?

I prefer a thousand times to die by your hand than to live a life without you by my side.

You exist now only in my memories.

My most precious treasure.

My love will be known through centuries;

because meeting you was my biggest pleasure.

Queen of mine,

wait for me in your next life.

Maybe you had left this world

but you still live in my heart.

Forever shall I remember you,

may this letter be a proof of my devotion to you.

Sultana of my mind.

Owner of my heart.

Lover of mine.

October/28/2023

~Masterpost

**I do NOT give my consent for this or any of my works to be posted or translated into any other platforms or languages.

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temptressofthewind · 1 month ago

Text

Empress' 18+ Masterpost 🌹❤️💋

Welcome to my sideblog! Below you can find a compilation of all my explicit fanfics. Please do not interact with this account or any of the following works if you are under 18 :-)

Main blog: @empressofthewind

🌹 MULTICHAPTER FICS 🌹

Carnations

Rating: M | Chapters: 6/10 | Updated: 02.11.24

Hanahaki Disease happens in three stages - red carnations, to symbolise love and passion; yellow carnations, to symbolise rejection and disappointment; and white carnations, funeral flowers. The disease is caused by unrequited love, and can be cured either by receiving a confession or undergoing surgery. Once the flowers turn white, though, the disease becomes terminal. Near knew exactly three things about his condition when the petals started coming up. One, he was in love with Mello. Two, Mello wasn’t in love with him. Three, one of those things had to change.

Convictions

Rating: E | Chapters: 2/2 | Completed: 23.08.24

Near is adamant that Mello's confinement was never about control. Mello is not so easily convinced.

Prisoner

Rating: E | Chapters: 1/? | Updated: 22.08.24

“What is this all about, Near? What do you want from me?” “Ah. I was wondering when you would ask me that.” He retrieved a finger puppet replica of Mello from his pocket and held it up for the real Mello to see. Mello grimaced at the sight of it. It was an ugly little thing, with a burn scar drawn on in purple marker and blue eyes narrowed into half-moons. Yet another thing Near was using to mock him. “My plan to catch Kira will be implemented on the 28th of January, exactly one week from today.” Near laid the puppet on its side on the nightstand. “I can’t have you interfering with that plan.”

Minutes to Midnight (collab with @neallo)

Rating: E | Chapters: 3/3 | Completed: 24.03.24

This is the only issue Near has with letting Mello do all their debriefings: it’s easy for Near to stare, undetected and uninterrupted, for a long, long time. In New York, he mitigates this by spreading out on the floor and surrounding himself with toys or cards or dice. Whatever he needs to do to occupy himself. When they’ve travelled for cases before – which isn’t common by any stretch of the imagination – Near has relied on the movements and sounds of their colleagues to pull his attention away instead. The squeak of Rester’s chair, the tapping of Gevanni’s polished shoe, the sound of Lidner shuffling through papers. He uses whatever he can to keep his eyes off Mello. Out of sight, out of mind. Right now, he’s out of luck.

❤️ FICS IN A SERIES ❤️

Impulse

Rating: M | Words: 2 472 | Part 1 of Impulse

In the span of a few weeks, Mello and Near’s rendezvous had quickly become a regular part of Near’s work day; Mello would suggest a time and place, and Near would always agree. Near was perfectly content with the arrangement, as long as his employees didn’t find out.

Impetus (collab with @neallo)

Rating: E | Words: 4 888 | Part 2 of Impulse

Ten full days after Near had cruelly and callously broken Mello's heart over email— over email, for God's sake— Mello began to experience what could only have been demonic possession or divine inspiration. Or maybe that was just the whiskey and the wishing. -- In which Mello pines and plots to win Near back with a pizza and a few bad lies.

💋 STANDALONE FICS 💋

Imperfections

Rating: M | Words: 878 | Pairing: Matt/Light

Light was Matt's work in progress.

Marks

Rating: M | Words: 323 | Pairing: Mello/Near

There’s something about the way Mello loves Near.

Unstable Connection

Rating: E | Words: 1 869 | Pairing: Mello/Near

Eraldo Coil calls L at 5:13am.

Denial

Rating: E | Words: 392 | Pairing: Mello/Near

It isn’t romantic. At least, that’s what Mello is telling himself.

Unholy

Rating: E | Words: 6 507 | Pairing: Mello/Near

“If it means anything to you, I am glad you survived.” Mello shook his head. “I just don’t get why. If I were you, I’d want me dead.” There were so many reasons Near could have given. That Mello was brilliant and dedicated and passionate and fierce. That Mello was one of a kind, irreplaceable. That if Mello died, a void would open up in Near’s heart, one that could never be filled by another mortal soul; one that would slowly, surely kill him. Instead, he kept his response simple. “You told me you would be waiting for me at our destination,” he said. “It was only fair that you should live up to that promise.”

Drowning

Rating: E | Words: 802 | Pairing: Mello/Near

Near wasn't sure why Mello invited him of all people to spend the night with him, on his birthday, in a cheap hotel room in Japan. He just wasn't foolish enough to question it.

shot in the dark (collab with @neallo)

Rating: E | Words: 8 225 | Pairing: Mello/Near

Mello’s posture changes, abrupt but liquid-smooth, shoulders squaring and spine straightening as he raises the gun until Near is staring down the barrel of it. Blood rushes in his ears, loud. Mello licks his lips. “Get up.”

Distraction (collab with @neallo)

Rating: E | Words: 2 880 | Pairing: Mello/Near

The small pout Near offers in response would, under normal circumstances, result in the rapid undoing of Mello’s resolve. Worse still is that Near has begun writhing in his lap; not quite grinding on him, but shifting his weight in a way that’s troublesome nonetheless. Mello huffs. Near is fully aware of what he’s doing. He knows the effect he has on Mello. He’s teasing him. If that’s how this is going to be, then perhaps Mello will do a little teasing of his own.

Unfair

Rating: E | Words: 2 192 | Pairing: Mello/Near, Matt/Near

Mello wasn't Near's, and Near wasn't Mello's. But as long as Near kept his eyes closed, he could invent a world where everything worked out the way it was supposed to; a reality that wasn't so unfair.

dividers were made by @neallo <3

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napakmahal · 8 months ago

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I’ll miss you until I close my eyes.

Ok so this is not an x reader fic but it is very angsty. This is my snack before I deliver my next full x reader. (Also this may or may not be my apology for being gone for so long) Also if I got the Japanese word for mother wrong please tell me.

Tadashi didn’t get an open casket funeral. Well, he could have but both the hospital and the funeral home strongly advised against it considering the state he was in. Aunt Cass also agreed, she didn’t want his friends and family to see him like that. She wanted to put a big portrait of him smiling to hang above the casket so that’s how people would remember him. She also knew that’s what he would have wanted.

At any talk of the funeral, Hiro shut down. He didn’t want to hear it. Like he didn’t want to fully commit to making a slideshow full of memories he had with his brother complete with his birthdate and his death date . And just like how he tried to avoid giving a speech but he did it because “please, out of all the people that he’d want to hear from it would be you. Let him hear you one last time.”

Hiro didn’t believe that Tadashi could hear him. He was dead and the bones and cartilage in his ears probably shattered before he died due to the fire. But the idea sounded nice so he wrote one.

When the time came for Hiro to give his speech in front of family members and family friends he hadn’t seen in years he suddenly didn’t want to. The podium was scarily close to the light gray casket covered with flower arrangements made from Tadashi’s birth-flower. The moment he saw how close it was, he physically backed up. Hiro slipped through the crowd of people with a wrinkled piece of binder paper with writing and tear stains on it. He tried to hand it to his aunt who was talking to a friend of the boys’ mom expressing how upset she was to hear her friend's son had passed so young.

“Hiro, what?” Aunt Cass had leaned down to his height.

Hiro looked down at his shoes and shook his head left and right. “Can you deliver it for me?”

“What? No, Hiro please let-”

Still shaking his head, Hiro responded “No, I don’t wanna go up there. I don’t wanna see him.”

Aunt Cass felt her heart crack inside her chest. The casket wasn’t even open so he technically couldn’t see him. But being near not just his older brother, but his older brother's casket was too much.

Before she could respond, Hiro took off towards the bathroom and sat down on the dirty floor. His black tie swinging back and forth. The crinkled speech still clutched in his palm. Hiro had rewritten the speech over six times. Tadashi did always say it was important to be good at writing essays, not just science and math.

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting there but it was long enough for someone to start banging on the door shouting “hurry please!”

More and more people started coming. He recognized most of them but couldn’t remember all their faces. At least every other person would stop him and say “you look just like your dad.” Aunt Cass had said that too but Hiro didn’t agree but maybe that’s because he’d never seen a picture of his dad as a teenager. Tadashi looked like his mommy, and acted like her too. Up until his untimely death, Tadashi wore a gold anklet with the word Hahaoya on it. Momma's boy from his birth to his death.

Hiro also saw Tadashi’s friends pull up to the funeral but he ducked through the crowd and pretended not to see them. They saw him though but nobody chased after him. Hiro had still been clinging to his decision that he didn’t want to stand anywhere near Tadashi’s casket until he saw an older woman he remembered. She always sent gifts and provided 90 percent of all the old photos of his parents. Tadashi called her auntie, but Hiro didn’t know if she was actually his aunt or if she was just a family friend. He never asked.

She was hunched in her seat with her hands hugging her body. Hiro walked up to her and greeted her with a hoarse voice.

“Auntie?” He gently placed her hand on her shoulder.

The old woman looked back. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying and there were tear stains everywhere on her face and shirt. “Aye! Hiro, aya, how are you?”

Hiro didn’t respond and just shrugged instead. He didn’t feel like crying in front of her or anyone for that matter.

“I know, I know. But it’s good you’re here, you know? He needs you.”

Hiro had heard that multiple times that day and it was taking all the respect he had to not roll his eyes. But that’s when she said:

“Be with you one more time before he sees your mommy and daddy.”

Hiro doesn’t know why that simple sympathy filled sentence had propelled him to want to suddenly share his speech. Maybe it was because it hit that he’d be the only one left out of his immediate family or maybe because he truly didn't want to have to live with the fact he didn’t speak at his own brother's funeral. Either way, he was filled with a new found motivation.

Aunt Cass had delivered a beautiful speech on how honored she felt to have had something to do with the way Tadashi was brought up and how beautifully he blossomed. That though it may have not been in the cards she’ll think of and love him for the rest of her days.

Wasabi gave a speech on behalf of the friend group about how Tadashi will have an everlasting impact on their lives and what an unforgettable friend and wonderful experience he was. Honey was originally supposed to deliver it but she couldn't stop crying for long enough to form sentences. Fred’s eyes were glued to the floor while GoGo had tried not to cry in front of people but ended up having to excuse herself to use the bathroom as a long awaited sob started growing in her throat.

Then it was Hiro’s turn. It was like there was ominous horror movie music emitting from the closed casket. For a while the world moved in slow motion. Hiro could hear his footsteps as if they were being amplified with a speaker as he walked down the aisle and closer to the podium. The world sounded like it was underwater, his ears felt a caked muffling sound. The only thing that stopped it was looking up. Before Hiro had actually stepped onto the podium he looked up and saw his brother. Smiling with his brown eyes glistening in the camera and his cheeks red with laughter. That was how he was supposed to remember him but he couldn’t. He remembered Tadashi’s face of panic and confliction as begged him to stay. But seeing his brother's beautiful face smiling was a nice comfort. That was the first time he started to understand “the ones that love us never really leave us.”

Hiro got up on the podium and froze for a moment. A beat where he needed to remind himself to breathe. “Uhm- Hi. I’m Hiro, I’m Tadashi’s brother. Our parents died when I was three and I didn’t understand. One ng-night they tucked me in, and the oth-other they didn’t . That was all I knew. But T-tadashi—my brother—said uhm, that if I ever wanted to be with them all I would have to do is shut my eyes. And suddenly they would be there for me. I-I don’t know if that’s tru-rue but I tried. When it didn’t work I thought maybe they just didn’t want to be there for me. But it didn’t matter because he was there for me. Tadashi taught me to tie my laces l-like a big boy—ha— and taught me how to ride a big boy bike with no training wheels. On my first day of high school he left his friends so we could sit together. And he bailed me out of trouble constantly. I see him every-everywhere. I see him in his side of our room, I see him in the trinkets we built together, and every time I see someone with as much of love for the San Fransokyo Ninjas as you I laugh but nothing comes out. I can’t laugh without you. I miss you, and I’ll miss you until I close my eyes.”

#baymax #big hero 6 #big hero six #tadashi hamada #hiro hamada #disney #fanfic #writing #angst #gogo tomago #napakmahal

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bonefall · 2 years ago

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Bone what herbs should be used for a funeral

(CONTENT WARNING: DEATH AND DEAD BODIES. DECAY. BLOAT. STINK. MAGGOTS, EVEN. MORTUARY THINGS.)

Quick answer: Fennel, valerian, catmint, so the mourners can still safely 'share tongues.' Mint/Lavender if the body isn't looking so fresh. Vinegar, salt, herb oil, a very creative flower arrangement if it's yikesy.

Mortuary student answer:

Depends really, what state did they find the body in?

If they died in-camp, then they can just use any nice-smelling herb. The remains won't be stinking unless they were already smelling bad when they were alive.

At this stage I would avoid the canonical lavender and mint, since it's shown that they like to "share tongues" with them one last time. Those two herbs are poisonous! Instead, go with fennel, valerian, and catmint if there's enough to spare. Fragrant flowers that can still be consumed without harming the mourners.

Now if they died away from camp? They might have been laying there a while.

Generally after about 2-ish hours, the corpse will be in rigor mortis (depends on the temperature tho, heat speeds up decay). At this point there's no smell, and they can be brought home and mourned just like a cat who died in the camp.

You can expect the body to stay fresh about 1 - 3 days, depending again on the season, but you're gonna start noticing the belly begin to bloat.

And THIS is where you're going to have bigger problems to patch up, and you're gonna smell it before you see it.

The biggest one is going to be the maggots. There is no getting around this; a forest is full of flies. A single day after a fly lays its eggs, you will see the little noodles doing their little noodly things.

They're doing their job breaking down organic matter is all!

No need to be afraid of them. If the body needs to be stored because you're pending a funeral, just bust out those mint and lavender herbs I told you to put aside earlier. Those are insect repellents-- but it will mean they can't do the customary 'sharing of tongues.' Chives and other onion-relatives could also be helpful here

If the maggots are already having a party, clean them off. I mention that ShadowClan can ferment vinegar-- that would be super helpful. Just take a mossball of it and wipe lmao. They want to set up shop near orifices and exposed wounds so pay attention to those areas.

The vinegar will also help with the smell, if there is one (if you found the maggots after they JUST hatched, about 1 day post-mortem, there might not be a stink yet.)

But you might be past just dealing with a couple maggots. You might be looking at decay. In a cat with all that fur, you're going to notice the rotten smell before any visible symptoms... but when moved, the side towards the ground's going to be wet and gross. Probably ant-y.

First visible symptoms are fur starting to fall off, bloated belly, the eyes might be gone.

Now if you're dealing with that, you're pushing it. It's probably going to be better to get them in the ground quick instead of horrifying the mourners. But okay, let's say it's not SO bad yet that you can't carry them by the scruff anymore...

But let me tell you buddy, if you go to drag them by the scruff and the skin comes off. Give Up! Just Give Up! They are LATE for dirt duty!

But you may be able to bring some of that bloat down with salt to dehydrate them, but you'd need a lot of it. I also hope you have vinegar because you're really going to want to neutralize that smell, especially if you can't spare like half a pound of salt.

Lastly, I wouldn't even JUST gather flowers for this one, crush your herbs up and get a REAL smelly oil. Bathe them in that.

I'd get creative here too, get some fresh plants to cover up anything that's poking out you don't want being seen, like bones or muscle. Bring attention to the parts that you WERE able to restore, or aren't so bad yet. If something important is missing, like a leg or a head, gather up some dirt and cover it in flowers to give the appearance of them still having it.

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cheeriecherrymain · 2 years ago

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May I please have headcannon's for Viktor with a significant other that works around the dead? (I know, self indulgent, I know)

I will admit! I don't know much about working with the deceased, so I had to do a little bit of googling and youtube-watching. This is short, but hopefully it's sweet <3

Viktor x Reader (SFW)

-The first time you meet, you’re at a coffee shop. He’d stopped in for a moment to get out of the cold and have something to drink - and it seemed everyone else had the same idea.

-The only seat he can find is one in the corner, across a small table from you. You’re surrounded by papers and you’re writing in a notebook, so he figures he’ll be able to keep to himself and work on his own things.

-So he wanders up to you, and quietly asks if you’re amicable to him sitting near you. You, of course, offer him a brilliant smile as you gesture to the chair, and then go back to whatever it is you’re working on.

-He tries to keep to himself, he really does, but he’s curious to a fault - especially when he sees someone so intent on something. He thinks he’s being subtle each time he glances over the papers you’ve got in front of you, but clearly he’s not. Either that, or you’re incredibly observant.

-On his third glance over your material, you finally catch him, but instead of being off-put by his nosiness, you instead scoot your chair closer to him to show him what you’re doing.

-Flowers, he realizes; you’re designing flower arrangements, and calculating the costs of each one.

-He asks you if you’re some kind of florist or wedding planner, and you shake your head with a laugh.

- “I’m a funeral director,” you say with a smile, and bite back a laugh when the shock is clear on his face. “It’s a little macabre, I know.”

-He’s quick to argue, telling you that it’s not macabre, and that it’s a job that needs to be done. He just…never expected someone with your profession to be so…cheerful.

-You laugh again, clearly used to such a reaction. “Let me guess, you’re picturing a person donned in black, looking a little like death themselves?”

-He has the decency to look sheepish.

-You expect his curiosity to end there, and for the two of you to go back to your own devices, but instead he starts asking questions - do all funeral directors do flowers like you do? What else do you do? Is it a hard job?

-You’re pleasantly surprised by his interest, and happily talk his ear off while you continue sketching - No, most of us only help patrons choose their own flowers, and We do everything from helping with caskets, to urns, to obituaries, and arranging the entire service. We’re also in charge of the, ah…remains - making them presentable for a viewing, burial, or cremation.

-You sigh quietly then, a softer smile pulling at the corners of your lips. “It can be hard,” you admit to him, “To be around such grief and loss. But it helps to know that I’m playing a part in letting someone say goodbye to a loved one - that maybe I’m able to bring them a little bit of peace.”

-You share a little bit of chatter after that, asking him what he does for a living, claiming that you don’t want to only talk about yourself. By the end of the hour, you’ve exchanged numbers and made plans to have coffee again sometime.

-And over the months, you grow closer. Viktor weaves his way into your life, and you into his, until eventually you’re sharing your first kiss in front of the very shop you met at - the same place he asks you to move in with him, and the same place he one day finagles himself onto one knee and presents you with a silver ring.

#viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #arcane x reader #viktor headcanons #honestly death is something so interesting to me #i know a lot of people are scared of dying #but i am fully curious to see what happens afterwards #ofc im in no rush to get there #i want to sniff a lot of flowers and pet a lot of cats first

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mcalhenwrites · 5 months ago

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Stargazers' Hill and its universe

I wanted to talk a bit about Stargazers’ Hill and its universe, mainly SGH and its characters! SGH was originally supposed to be a darker story, even though it does have some dark themes that remain. The ideas tumbled around in my head for a while. I knew I wanted a family mortuary. Originally, Thaddeus was supposed to be a nature spirit who took the form of a human to study them and see if humans deserved to be eradicated or not. The magical elements were eventually thrown out. He’s human. Thaddeus Whittaker is the son of Irene and Grant Hadley. His father owned a pawn shop that also repaired clocks and watches, located in New Annen. He was well-respected. When Thaddeus was a year old, Grant was shot during a burglary. Nothing was ever reported as stolen. Inventory appeared to be untouched. Irene moved her son to Kester and began working a series of jobs to take care of him. During this time, she met Glynn Whittaker, a fisherman. He began dating Irene. When he married her, he also adopted young Thaddeus. They are a close family. The Glasser family owns a mortuary. They live in a multi-generational home, but tragedy hit the city of Dunsany during Humphrey Glasser’s university years. While he was studying in another city, an illness swept through the town and took the lives of several people–including his entire family. He married Marcy Glasser. They have three children: Eugene, Christine, and Ambrose. The Glasser family had their hands in several businesses. The mortuary includes the funeral home and chapel, which is not connected to the main house. They also have fields between this section of the property and the cemetery. Some of the family members worked out of the house, others found work within. Farming and every other job ceased when Humphrey inherited the land. Eugene is an apprentice mortician and has reached adulthood. He helps his father out the most, and he is burdened with the highest expectations. Christine is nearing adulthood, and she’s expected to marry and have children. For now, she helps her mother with sewing and arranging flowers. They do grow some flowers in their greenhouse, which they use for the funeral. Ambrose is a teenager. He’s terrified of working with cadavers and is considered a disappointment in his parents’ eyes. He handles a variety of chores, some of which violate his comforts. I’ve been thinking of how to change the story (and its sequel) while still being true to the original I wrote over a decade ago. Thaddeus and Ambrose have an important bond and help each other in so many ways. The story–like so many of my others–explores abuse, but it also explores queerness and coming to terms with one’s identity. It has a villain with a whole organization working beneath him. It also touches upon the conflicting emotions that occur when someone apologizes for hurting someone else right before they die. I wrote the original Stargazers’ Hill draft in 2012-2014, and even with multiple edits, I’ve just never been completely happy with it. I plan to rewrite it almost entirely from scratch, borrowing very little from the original draft. This universe also includes Before our Ghosts (which includes content I cannot self-publish and I’m not sure about putting it on AO3 when it’s a sequel to SGH) and Rascal (which stands alone and I plan to self-publish after editing the main story/adding a couple of important chapters). There is a potential fourth book that rolls around in my mind, but until I sort out my issues with BoG and finish it + rewrite SGH, I don’t want to think about it yet. If anyone is interested in hearing more about SGH or Rascal or the world they take place in, feel free to send me asks. I love getting them. :) I'll be posting SGH excerpts to Patreon (depending on the tier) when I start rewriting.

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papasbaseball · 2 years ago

Text

Secondo x OC (Dead Ghuleh Walking)

+18 CONTENT NOT FOR MINORS. MINORS KEEP SCROLLING

Pairing: Secondo x OC(Libitina)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Blood, Biting, Zombies.

Summary: Sister Libitina's heart has been heavy ever since the Papas died. An innocent paying of respects quickly turns into a graveyard chase as Papa Secondo, back from the dead, looks to make her his Zombie Queen.

Word Count: 3,495

Notes: This is the last of my fics that needed to be migrated over from AO3. Another thank you to @princess-nope for letting me borrow Sister Libitina. She's seriously the coolest OC. Please go check out her stuff.

Translations at the end

AO3 Link

The cemetery was an ugly sight in the daytime. Tombstones were covered in grit and grime, names no longer readable, not a single one of them straight. In the cloak of night, it would scare even the bravest of souls. Gnarled trees played tricks on the mind and looked like hideous twisted demons walking amongst the dead, seeking out souls to steal that dared to leave their graves. The fog that settled in that evening was thick enough that the dead could slip out of their eternal resting places and walk amongst the living, worry-free that their souls might be devoured. For Libitina, however, it made the walk back to the Ministry one of peril. Her boots squished in the mud as she stepped, not even able to see her hand in front of her. The night had been pleasant and clear when she’d gone out to set up for the graveside service earlier.

She had watched with dread as the fog swept over the grave and attendants. While it had lent a spooky aura to the funeral of the late Cardinal Giacomo, it was nowhere near as fantastic as the funeral had been for the three Emeritus brothers earlier that month. Everybody that called the Ministry home was in attendance, the wailing so profound that there had been a late night knocking upon the main door by police to make sure that everything was okay. Papa Emeritus Primo’s gardens had been cleared out of every flower so they could be strewn in a massive pile at the foot of the three ornately carved statues that took the place of tombstones.

Cresting a hill, Libitina could see better. Up ahead stood those very statues. They were remarkable compared to the rest of the bygone papas, still clean and white as if free from sin. Having all three clean at once drove a knife into the congregation's heart. Their deaths had been unexpected, all that is except for Papa Emeritus Secondo. From the tales she had heard of the nurses that attended to him in his last few days, he had been delirious and sickly pale. They would bring him his meals up from the kitchen and he would try to bite the poor serving girls that dared show any kindness to him. His death had not been a surprise.

In a foolish moment of sympathy, she strayed from the path, wandering into the thick fog that shrouded the stone feet of the effigies. She waved and batted at the fog, to no avail, as she got closer. The ground was cold when her knees met it and there were still a few scattered dead flowers left over from the funeral service. Gathering what she could, she made a bouquet and said a quiet prayer for the eldest brother. He had been a friend and mentor, often working with the funeral team at the Ministry to preserve the grounds and provide modest floral arrangements when called for.

“Can you take care of him?” she had asked the other sister who had been assigned to help with embalming that day. “I’m feeling light-headed. I’ll be back in a minute.” Being surrounded by death was one thing, seeing the man who had taken her under his wing lifeless on the table was another. She had run outside the prep room as the walls felt like they were closing in around her, a desperate need to escape overtaking her as her heart pounded against her rib cage. The tears had tried to spill forth, but she tilted her head up and blinked them back. Her mortuary sister was a gossip, most of them were.

In the shroud of the fog, she let herself cry freely for the first time since the day he’d been declared dead. The only people around to judge her were the deceased and everyone knew that they didn’t talk. She pressed a kiss to the stone, setting the flowers at the stone hem of his robe.

“I miss you, old friend.”

She wiped her tears and gripped the cold monument, helping herself up to move to the next memorial. Her stomach dropped and her foot slipped. Her fingers clawed at the rough unhewn stone as she scrambled back up onto the safety of Primo’s grave.

“Lucifer below-” She knelt on the ground once more, this time feeling for where to avoid as she left the gravesite. She sucked in a breath when she felt the ledge and drop off. She crawled along the grave of the second oldest brother, hand following the ledge all the way down the plot.

Grave robbing? It was unheard of, especially for one of the Papas. They had taught her about it in her apprenticeship but always assured her that it would never happen. It was a dishonorable tradition abandoned at least a hundred years ago. Her mind raced as she wondered what to do. If she went to get help, they might question what she was doing straying from the path.

She pushed herself back up once more, realizing there was nothing she could do until that damn fog cleared. There was no way of knowing if they had even taken anything. Dusting her hands together to clean them of the dirt, she resolved to come back in the morning, before anyone else had woken, to properly assess the damage. Slipping between the monuments, she made her way back to the path.

She jumped when she spotted him.

“Brother Gregor, that's not funny! Did you see who did this to Papa Secondo’s grave?”

Brother Gregor stood there silently. He had always been the dark, hulking, and silent type, but was never hesitant when questioned. She swallowed hard, moving forward to question him again. Her palms dampened with sweat, but if anyone knew what had happened here it would be him. Perhaps he was hiding from the culprits?

“Brother-”

He had seen better days. His papal paint was smeared and runny and his cheeks were hollowed from his illness like the nurses had gossiped about in the common room. His funerary robes were soaked and covered in mud, and his hands were as well. If she didn’t know any better, she would say that he had punched and clawed his way out of the ground, but that was impossible. The weight of the earth alone would be enough to keep even the strongest of men buried six feet under. His body must have been propped up against the monument by some novitiate on a disrespectful hazing dare.

“Papa,” her voice broke, “how could they do this to you? It’s not right.”

Her hand reached out to swipe away a wet raindrop full of paint when he caught her arm. His eyes flashed open to reveal both of them flooded with blood, even his signature white eye. The gaze was vacant but hungry and it turned something deep inside her as her mind told her to run. Everyone had thought of him at least once in that way, she had told herself. He was the tallest of the Emeritus brothers and his discerning look had turned more than one sibling’s legs to jelly and flooded their stomachs with butterflies. Even now she could feel the infamous butterflies beating their little devilish wings against her rib cage. Still, she tried to break free.

Secondo, stronger than ever, threw her up against his grave marker. “Ghuleh,” he said, stumbling over the syllables. Whatever had happened to him, he was no longer the Papa that he once was. His grip was iron and inescapable as she struggled against it, his fingers tightening to the point it felt like he might crush her wrist.

“Papa, what happened? I saw them bury you. You were dead. I-“

Secondo growled at this. It was an awful bone-chilling growl, half wounded animal and half stones scraping together. His bloodied eyes flashed with rage leaving Libitina to guess his meaning.

I wonder if he knows he’s supposed to be dead? What if this is some sort of shapeshifter that’s taken his place? But then why would the grave be open? Whether he was really undead or a shapeshifter didn’t matter as she gritted her teeth, pain shooting from her wrist. It would be best not to bring up his death again.

His free hand roamed her body, squeezing the curve and form of it. “Ghuleh,” he groaned again, this time more smoothly. A breathy moan escaped her as he pressed her between his body and the hard stone. He was cold, but that didn’t stop the blood from rushing to her core as those hungry eyes looked down on her, a bloody smile spreading across his lips. “Ghuleh w-want.”

She could feel his cock underneath his robes pressing into her stomach. It was everything she could do to remain standing on her feet, going slack in his grip. She had given up the chance of ever sharing his bed the day they had all died, but it seemed Satan had other plans for her.

He released his grip to slide his hands down her legs, hoisting her up so her hips met his. He paused, words trying to form in his undead brain. “Ghuleh want?” he asked again, this time the inflection more like a question. He loosened his grip a bit and his gaze softened, though the hunger remained.

She smoothed her hands down the muddied and wet brocade, debating the ethical implications of fucking an undead satanic pope. Fuck it. “Yes, Papa. Please fuck me,” she blurted out before she could take the words back. She looked back up into his eyes, asserting her words.

He hoisted her onto the plinth of the monument, gloved hand snaking its way under the skirt of her habit. His fingers curled into the waistband of her panties and quickly tugged on it, ripping it at the side seams away from her body. He was urgent, like a wolf that hadn’t eaten in days, his tongue lapped at the damp spot on her underwear before throwing it to the ground, craving the source of his desire instead. There was no warm breath against her thighs and she jumped when his cold tongue slithered up her folds, flattening against her clit. A gentle kiss was the only warning she got before Secondo growled, slurping at the small trickle of wetness that had already escaped Libitina’s folds. “Ghuleh- G-Good. W-arm.”

She moaned at the praise, letting her head rest against the stone folds of the statue’s robes. Tossing the front panel of her skirt aside to watch him devour her, she couldn’t help but rake her sharp talons against his paint-blackened scalp. “More, Papa. Please.”

He looked up at her, slowly comprehending her words. “More? Ghuleh… Hungry?”

“Yes, please,” she blushed. She pressed lightly on the back of his head, urging him back to his feast. “I’m starving, Papa.”

He latched onto her clit, flicking his cold tongue against her warm bundle of nerves. She shuddered, but pressed his head further in, rolling her hips as he sucked against her. He kissed and nibbled, stroking his tongue slowly down each side of her clit until she was on the precipice, nails digging into his scalp.

“N-Not yet,” he said, out of breath from his attention. He brought two gloved fingers up to her and delved them into her warmth. Drawing them back out, he separated them, undead fingers slightly trembling, to reveal the shiny strings of her slick that spun themselves like a spider web between the two digits. “Ghuleh ready.”

Secondo gently guided Libitina toward the edge of the plinth and supported her as she slid back down the stone block into his grasp. His hands slid down to her knees, groaning at the effort. “Hold…” he managed.

Libitina followed his command to the best of her abilities, wrapping her legs around him and taking hold of his shoulders. Once more he swept away the front panel of her skirt and hiked up his own robe to reveal his cock. A chill ran up her spine at the girth and how the veins seemed to run a dark green of something that was not blood. The flesh itself had the pallor of death and, when he lined himself up with her, she could feel the chill of death begging for entrance into her throbbing cunt.

“Papa-”

“Riscaldami, Ghuleh.”

He sank in slowly, a hiss slurring into a growl as he split her open. She clenched around him, his cock searing her inside. His mouth was slack and agape as he bottomed out.

“Papa, ah! It’s so deep.” She clenched again, her pussy trying so hard to bring some warmth back into the undead intrusion. Her lip quivered as she looked into those blood-red eyes, any human warmth gone.

“Ti rend-erò la… mia reg-ina degli… zombi.” He rutted against her, shoving his cock hard up against her cervix. Intentions made clear, he pulled out to the tip before shoving himself back in. The force of the thrust shoved Libitina into the stone, knocking the wind out of her. She inhaled the fog deeply as he pumped into her deep and slow, the cool mist chilling her lungs. Her exhale was a moan as she relaxed into his grip, letting the pleasure of the stretch take over.

“That feels so good,” she sighed. “Take me. Make me your zombie queen.”

He grunted at her words, quickening his pace. With a rough hand, he yanked her head to the side, exposing her neck. “Vuoi il… mio zom-bi sborro? Vuoi… che ti s-sporchi il grembo, suora?” Groans seemed to drone out of his lips as he neared her neck.

The thrill of him coating her in his seed made her grip his neck, talons pricking the soft decaying skin. She brought him back up to look into those blood-red eyes. His teeth gnashed together in an angry hunger. “Fill me with your filth first, corpse.”

Her heart quickened as she realized the danger she was in, that the rest of the Ministry was in. There would be no use in spreading the word of Satan through groans and moans. She had to get out of there in order to warn her sisters.

Secondo foamed at the mouth as he thrust faster and harder. Libitina kept her grip, not eager to unleash the monster. “Want y-you. Let P-papa h-ave taste.”

Libitina pushed off the plinth, sending them both toppling forward. Scrambling to her feet, she dashed down the cemetery path, groans and yells filling the air behind her. The fog still remained, obscuring identifying tombstones that she would have used to find her way back on a normal night. No time to waste.

“Ghuleh, tor-na quiiiii. A-Abbiamo a…appena iniziato,” he seethed. A roar ripped from him as he staggered after her.

Libitina turned and ran, boots sliding in the mud, but that didn’t stop her. She wove her way through the jagged tombstones, apologizing to the dead for any disrespect or trampled flowers placed by siblings. She had to get to the Ministry. Once she got there she would wake Sister Margery and they could board the doors together and barricade the rest of the Ministry.

“Y-ou can r.. run, but youuu can’t hide… Ghuuuleh. I kn-know your scent.” He was further behind now, but she had to keep running, had to keep going. It wasn’t just her life that depended on it. Her thighs ached, but she pushed harder in the mud when she saw the faint light behind a stained glass window.

“Margery!” she cried out. “Sister Margery! Anyone!” The Ministry became clearer the closer she got. Out of breath, she threw her fists in a dizzy haze against the heavy wooden door to the funerary wing. “Please! Anyone!”

“Sister Libitina, is that you?” The voice was muffled, coming from the open window above, but the high pitch was unmistakably that of Sibling Antina.

“Antina! Let me in! I don’t have time to explain!”

“Don’t you have your key?”

“No! It’s too long of a story, please come let me in! It’s urgent!!”

“Ghuuuleh,” came a groan in the distance.

“Hurry!” Libitina cried again.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!”

Libitina rested her hands on her knees, doubling over as she tried to catch her breath. The damp night air tasted like danger now, and she pulled herself back up to rest against the wall, holding her breath as best she could. The last thing she needed was to alert him to exactly where she was.

It wasn’t much longer until she heard the footsteps on those worn stone stairs, racing down to meet her. The door flung open and there stood Sibling Antina in their nightgown.

“Everyone else has gone to bed. I was on duty tonight. What happened? Where is your key?”

“I’ll explain it all later please just let me i-“

Like being hit by a truck she was knocked to the ground, pain searing through her arm as she saw Secondo’s teeth tearing through her sleeve and puncturing her skin. Glossy blood welled up in the faint light of the open door

“Shut it, Antina! Shut it! He’s a zombie!”

“Wh-“

“Shut the door! Ah!” she winced at the pain as he bit down harder. “Papa Secondo is a zombie! Wake the siblings and barricade the Ministry. Form a hunting party in the morning to come and find us.”

“Hunting? Us? But Sis-“

“It’s too late for me! Save the Ministry.” And with that, Libitina kicked the door shut on Sibling Antina’s face.

“Ghuleh t-aste gooood.”

She turned back to Secondo, watching him lap up the blood that was trickling down her arm and soaking her sleeve. His tongue delved past the fabric tear and into the cut, eyes gleaming with delight when Libitina grit her teeth. “So you want to finish what we started?”

“Yesssss”

“They know what you are. If you want to fuck me you’d better find a new place before someone takes your head off.”

He growled at the reminder of his monstrous form and got to his feet. Strong hands gripped Libitina’s boots and he dragged her the short distance to a nearby monument, stowing them both behind it, away from the view of any foolish rescuers. “Im- Impatient.”

“Go on then: make my death worth it.”

He snarled and flipped her over, ripping her skirt away from her in a flutter of cloth. Rough hands gripped her hips, yanking them up into the air to display her still dripping cunt for him. He hitched up his robes and thrust his cock into her without warning. The soft muddied sole of his papal slipper pressed her cheek into the dewy grass as he snapped into her at a punishing pace. “R-egina de…gli zzzombi è … è un onoreeeee, ma… tu ssscappi, pu..t-ttana innnngrata,” he groaned.

“Puttana ingrata? You fucking bit me, asshole!”

His cold palm cracked against her ass cheek. Her spine arched at the delicious pain shifting the angle of his thrusts. She moaned loud enough to wake the dead as he brought her closer and closer to the precipice.

“Que-Questa trooooia brrrrama.. co-sì tannnn-to il …mio cazzo… e la miiiia s-sporciiiizia?”

“Sì, Papa,” she groaned, drowned out by the claps of his hips bruising hers. “Fill me with your cum. I want all of it.”

He stopped as she was on the edge and pulled out. She whined as the ache took over. He removed his foot from her face and shoved her over so her face was lit by the moon. Her hands spread her thighs in lust when she saw how his thick cock was coated in her slick.

“Vo..Voglio guarrrr..d-dartiii in ffffaccia… quan-quando tiiii me-tto in..inciiinta del …nosssstro e-errrede, Ghuleh.” He hooked her legs over his shoulders and once more impaled her. She whimpered as his new position pushed him deeper than before, deep enough that his seed would take hold.

He was slow and gentle at first but Libitina’s cries every time he bottomed out quickly sent him into a frenzy. Her wails soon had his hips stuttering. “C-Come fffor me, Ghuleh. Letttt… your w-womb driiiiink… my seed.”

Her hands ripped out fistfuls of grass as the waves crashed down on her and she spasmed hard around his cock. The contractions were the final push for him as his cock shot cold ropes of seed deep within her.

She groaned feeling the tingling coolness seeming to numb her inside. Already her brain was fuzzy and she couldn’t help but feel hungry like something was gnawing at the pit of her stomach. “F-food,” she moaned.

He pulled out and she could feel the numbing cum trickle out of her. “R-rest f-irst.” Scooping her up, he staggered off into the graveyard.

“Where are we going? They’ll look in your grave first.”

“O-old ma- mauso-leum. Rrrest. Then f-fill… Ghuleh… again.”

Translations:

Riscaldami, Ghuleh. - Warm me, Ghuleh

Ti rend-erò la… mia reg-ina degli… zombi.- I will make you my zombie queen.

Vuoi il… mio zom-bi sborro? Vuoi… che ti s-sporchi il grembo, suora? - Do you want my zombie cum? Do you want me to soil your womb, Sister?

Ghuleh, tor-na quiiiii. A-Abbiamo a…appena iniziato - Ghuleh, come back here. We’re just getting started

R-egina de…gli zzzombi è … è un onoreeeee, ma… tu ssscappi, pu..t-ttana innnngrata - Zombie Queen is an honor, but you run away, you ungrateful whore

Que-Questa trooooia brrrrama.. co-sì tannnn-to il …mio cazzo… e la miiiia s-sporciiiizia?- This slut craves my cock and my filth so much?

Vo..Voglio guarrrr..d-dartiii in ffffaccia… quan-quando tiiii me-tto in..inciiinta del …nosssstro e-errrede, Ghuleh. - I want to see your face when I impregnate you with our heir, Ghuleh

#the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #secondo smut #secondo emeritus #papa emeritus ii x oc #secondo x oc #the band ghost oc

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