#he loves to make the guards job difficult even if its bc it's for his parents

[wolfchans]

💛💛

[obsesssedblerd]

"Who's your new teacher?"

Synopsis: Toji meets Megumi's new preschool teacher and immediately develops a crush.

Pairings: single dad! toji x f! reader

Wc: 2.3K

Contains: plenty of fluff, crack, a tiny bit of angst, megumi is four, tsumiki is seven, toji is still toji (but like he's soft for his kids and he takes care of them), reader is a preschool teacher, reader and toji are around the same age, toji being soft, mentions of shiu, shiu and toji work together, shiu being an idiot (lol sorry he'll get love in another fic) , everyone is happy bc I said so

a/n: omg, first fic, we made it! barely proofread, sorry for mistakes. also, tysm for 1,000 followers here! the other two fics that were on that poll will be coming soon!

update: pt 2 here

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Toji’s Fushiguro’s muscles ache. The job he took was harder than he anticipated, and it took way longer than it was supposed to. After confirming that the payment from the job is in his account, he calls Shiu Kong so he could check in on the kids. “About damn time,” Shiu scoffs when the line connects. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t hear from you until sunrise.” 

“Job’s done,” Toji says as he gets into his car, settling into the drivers’ seat with an exhausted sigh. “I hear the TV in the background. Better be cartoons or something age-appropriate.” 

Shiu laughs. “Of course, what else? ‘M not getting cussed out by you. Anyway, you comin’ back with Megumi? Can’t believe you took him on the job with you. Once you’re back, I can get out of here.” 

Toji’s heart nearly stops. He sits up in his seat, gripping the phone so hard that the screen nearly cracks from his strength. “The fuck did you just say?” 

“Huh?” 

“Megumi isn’t with you?!” Toji’s voice booms in the car. On the other line, he hears Shiu gulp. “I… I thought he was with you.” 

“You idiot! I asked you to pick him up from preschool around the same time you pick up Tsumiki from her school because I knew this would take a while!” 

“You did?!” Shiu asks, and then it goes quiet; him more than likely flipping through his messages to double check. “...Shit,” he breathes out. 

Toji inhales sharply, then exhales shakily in an attempt to calm the rage, and even the fear that pools in his gut. “If anything has happened to my fucking son, Kong, I will murder you and make your death look like an accident. Keep an eye on Tsumiki.” 

“Fushiguro, I swear, I-” Toji hangs up before Shiu can explain himself further, then he starts the car. 

He grips the steering wheel hard, and his breathing picks up as his mind spins with every horrific scenario possible. The preschool closes at six thirty. It was close to nine. He didn’t see any missed calls from them. On a normal day, he’d be done before work with plenty of time to pick up his four year-old son, but today’s job was far more difficult and required more time. 

The car speeds down the street leading to his destination. He’s half-expecting to see Megumi sitting outside with his backpack, clinging to his dog plushie and crying. Or worse, he’s not there at all; because this world is full of terrible people, and they won’t hesitate to steal a small, unsupervised boy. His heart aches at the thought, and he shoves it away before he feels the need to throw up. He’ll be okay, he thinks to himself. Everything is going to be fine. 

—

When Toji arrives at the preschool, he rushedly parks lopsidedly in the lot, then exits the car. His eyes scan the steps leading up to the front, and when he doesn’t see Megumi outside, he rushes to the door. 

He sees a security guard in a booth, and before Toji can even ask any questions, the guard gives him a small smile and nod, pressing a button that unlocks the door to the preschool with a click. Toji’s shoulders slump in relief. They were expecting him. That meant Megumi is still here and safe. 

Toji nods back at the guard in thanks, and rushes down the dimly-lit hallway. He sees a light coming from a classroom that still has its door open, and he slows his steps when he hears a child giggling. His child. 

Then it’s followed up by a beautiful, melodic laugh that makes him stop in his tracks. It’s a lovely sound; one that his heart skips to, and one that gently rings in his ears even plenty of seconds after it stops. 

Toji peeks into the classroom to see Megumi comfortably resting in a pillow fort, and you, kneeling beside a lamp and using your hands to make shadow puppets on the wall to entertain him. “Alright,” you say softly as you rearrange your hands and fingers. “What’s this one?” 

You smile as you watch Megumi hum thoughtfully, and Toji is transfixed by you. Who are you? Where did you come from? Since when did Megumi get a new teacher? Why is your smile so bright and so beautiful that the sun would envy? Why is his heart beating wildly in his chest at the sight of you? Fuck, why is he staring? 

“Ooh!” Megumi gasps as he figures out the animal you made with your hands. “Rabbit!” 

“Correct, great job!” You reach forward and give him a high-five. “I think you’ll really like this next one,” you say, and Megumi giggles again as he sits up, completely focused and ready to guess. “Ready?” You ask, and the boy nods. 

Toji crosses his arms, quietly leans against the door of the classroom, and watches, unaware of the soft smile that creeps onto his face. When you put your hands in front of the light, and the shape of the animal displays in front of Megumi, he squeals excitedly and stands up. “Doggy!” He shouts with a wide grin and pulls up his favorite dog plushie that he takes with him everywhere, imitating the sounds a dog would make. You break out into laughter, and Toji nearly stops breathing so he can fully take in the sound of it again.

Beautiful, he thinks. You’re so fucking beautiful. 

Megumi’s eyes flicker towards the door, and he gasps before running as fast as he can towards Toji. “Papa!” 

“Hey, Megs.” Toji kneels down, hugs the small boy against his chest before picking him up in his strong arms, sighing in relief as he runs a hand through his dark hair. He’s okay, and he doesn’t look too upset that he was here for this long. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Are you alright?” 

“Yeah!” Megumi pulls away, then gestures towards you, who watched the tender reunion with a sweet smile. “Ms. [Y/L/N] played so many fun games with me!” 

“Aw, I’m so happy you had fun, Megumi.” You take a step closer so you’re standing in front of Toji, slightly lifting your head upward to meet his eyes due to his height. “We tried calling you, but your phone went straight to voicemail. Megumi said that it does that sometimes. He took a nap earlier, but I’m sure he’ll be sleepy soon after all of those games. I also gave him dinner earlier.” 

“That’s… I just-” Toji struggles to find words, especially when you slightly tilt your head to the side and blink slowly. He exhales, then snaps himself out of his daze. “Thank you so much,” he says. “Are you new? I swear, I’m not usually this late.” Great. Megumi’s pretty teacher might think I’m just the worst parent on this damn planet. 

You nod. “Yes, I’m new. Today was my first day with this angel,” You use a finger to gently boop Megumi’s nose, and he smiles, shyly burying his face into Toji’s shoulder, “and the other kids. I figured you might’ve been held up at work or something. It’s okay. Things happen. Besides, he’s such a well-behaved kid. I didn’t mind spending this much time with him.” 

Toji places Megumi on the ground, then gently taps his shoulder. “Let’s grab your stuff, okay?” As he helps Megumi pack his backpack, Toji bites back a smile when he sees you watching him out of the corner of his eye. He notes the way you fiddle with your hands and avert your gaze after catching yourself. 

You walk over to your desk and open a drawer, pulling out three suckers from a sealed jar. Once Megumi had all of his things packed, you kneel before him, handing him the suckers one by one. “Here you go. One for you, one for your sister, and one for your dad. I can tell he works really, really hard.” 

Toji doesn’t hide his smile this time; it was impossible, especially when Megumi accepts them excitedly. “Candy! Thank you!” He hugs you gently, and you return it, rubbing your hand up and down his back. “You’re so welcome. Thanks for being so sweet today. You made my first day so fun.” 

A muffled gasp coming from outside has the three of you looking towards the window. Toji sees Tsumiki’s face squished against the glass with her usual, excited smile, and Shiu Kong standing beside her, looking relieved when he sees Megumi safe and sound. He purposely avoids Toji’s glare. 

The sound of Megumi’s small yawn gets his attention, and Toji’s gaze softens when the boy rubs his tired eyes. “Aw, ‘m sorry. It’s past your bedtime. Let’s get you home.” He leans down to pick him up again, and once you have your belongings, the two of you leave the building together. 

When you three make it outside, you face Toji and Megumi. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Megumi,” you say quietly to him, who is slowly beginning to drift off. Then you look up at Toji, who is softly smiling at you. “And I’ll see you tomorrow, too, right?” You ask.

“Yeah, you will.” 

You wave goodbye, and Toji makes sure you get into your car safely. “Hey, Megs,” Toji gently shakes Megumi as he watches you drive out of the parking lot. “Do you know her name?” 

“Ms. [Y/L/N]” 

He chuckles. “No, kid, her first name.” 

“I dunno,” Megumi mumbles before closing his eyes and resting his cheek on Toji’s shoulder. “Sleepy, papa.” 

“Ah, there they are!” Shiu exclaims, and Toji would’ve thrown a punch if his son wasn’t in his arms, and if his seven year-old daughter wasn’t happily skipping towards him. “Hi, papa!” 

“Hi, sweets, how was school today?” 

“Good,” Tsumiki says, then grins mischievously as she points to the spot where your car was just a minute ago. “You like her!” She teases. “You wanna hug her and kiss her and give her chocolates!” 

“Alright, you.” Toji rolls his eyes and laughs softly as he uses his free arm to lift up a giggly Tsumiki, then presses a kiss to her forehead. “Both of you should be in bed. Let’s get home.” 

“Aw, okay.” Tsumiki then leans forward to gently kiss her sleeping baby brother’s cheek. “Night, Gumi.” 

Toji secures both Tsumiki and Megumi in his car, and then faces Shiu, who is smiling nervously. “Well, look at that. Megumi’s doing great and you even developed a crush. How cute. All’s well that ends well.” 

“Very cute, but guess what?” 

“What?” 

Toji finally throws a swift punch at Shiu’s jaw, greatly holding back his strength so it wouldn’t break. Shiu stumbles, then groans, cupping his face with his hands. “Okay, fine, I deserved that.” 

“Damn right,” Toji says as he opens the door to the driver’s seat. “See you later.” 

—

Toji almost never stresses about his appearance in the mornings. After all, it was just dropping off the kids. But this morning, he frets over which shirt would look better with the jeans he picked out, if he should wear a different type of cologne, or if he should slick his hair back. 

All because he’s seeing you again. 

He decides to skip the new cologne and go for his usual, simple one, dresses in a dark shirt to match the jeans, and also ditches the idea of slicking his hair. Once the kids are ready for the day, he leaves early and goes to a coffee shop to pick up a medium cup of coffee. First, he drops Tsumiki off at school, then he takes Megumi to preschool. 

Toji spots you almost immediately. You were out in the front amongst the other preschool teachers, parents and their kids, wearing a gorgeous yellow top and simple blue jeans. When you see Toji and Megumi approaching, you pause your conversation with your coworker and walk over to them. Toji decides that he likes that, and that he loves the way you kneel in front of Megumi to meet his eye level, telling him good morning and asking if he was excited for the day. 

You raise to your feet, Toji hands you the cup of coffee he purchased earlier. “For you,” he says, “As a thank you for everything yesterday.” 

“Aw.” Your eyes light up as you accept the cup. “Mr. Fushiguro, this—” 

“Toji,” he corrects softly, and he ignores the way his heart stutters when your smile grows. 

“Well, Toji, this is lovely. Thank you so much.” 

“I never caught your name last night.” 

You tell him your name, and Toji tests it once. From the way you shyly avert your gaze, he can tell you that like the way it sounds in his voice. Megumi clears his throat, and Toji looks down to see him staring up at him, his brow raised in suspicion. “You never stay this long. Don’t you have to go to work?” 

Damn, kid. Thought we were on the same team. 

You laugh as Toji rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at Megumi—a gesture that the four year-old returns immediately. “Well, he’s right, gotta get going,” Toji says, looking back up at you. “I’ll see you later?” 

“Yes.” You nod, then point to the warm cup in your hands. “Thanks again for the coffee. Have a great day at work.” 

“You too.” Toji then gently ruffles Megumi’s hair. “Be good.” 

He doesn’t realize how big he’s smiling until he’s back in the car, and he sighs as he remembers Shiu’s words from the night before. A crush. That word seems so silly. He’s not a teen in high school. Toji looks up just in time to watch you take Megumi’s hand and lead him inside the building with the other children, and he chuckles to himself as he starts the car up.

Maybe “silly” was okay when you’re this pretty.

[skzdarlings]

the heist team | the threesome series ; skz ; minho/reader/changbin

masterlist.

threesome series part 2/4.

pairing: lee minho/reader/seo changbin content info: sexual content. threesome. friends2lovers. very cheesy criminal heist shenanigans (very "we're in" style hacking and some laser grids lol). "fake" kissing, getting sexy as a distraction, giving sex directions, sexual tension that gets resolved. pussy eating, dick sucking, coming inside. purple haired minho bc meow <3

-

The camper van was the best idea you ever had.  It is much easier to enact dastardly schemes while inconspicuously hiding in plain sight. 

On the outside, the van looks like any civilian camper, but the inside is a veritable den of high-tech con-artistry.   It has a place for Minho to hang the get-ups for his grifting gambits, a compartment for Changbin to store his weapons and down-time dumbbells, and it has the sexiest, sleekest, most mouth-watering computer apparatus that has ever existed.  You love it more than anything in this world. 

Every job, you sit in the midst of your beloved computer screens, directing the operation while your boys do the ground work.  Despite knowing of your undying love for this system, your best friends and partners-in-crime are presently trying to separate you from your baby.

“Is she calling the computer her baby again?”  Minho asks from where he is getting dressed behind a curtain. 

“Yes,” Changbin says.  He is sitting in your computer chair with his arms distractingly crossed, his biceps bulging in his tight black shirt.  He is wearing a lot of lycra, having formerly anticipated he would be doing physical work tonight.

That all changed when you realized the nature of tonight’s job. 

You only ever target the obscenely rich, the kind of wealth that is obtained through its own nature of theft and villainy.  Tonight’s targets are a bunch of pompous elites celebrating themselves.  Upstairs is a gala kicking off a week-long set of dinners, auctions, and celebrations.   Downstairs is millions of dollars worth of art and antiquities, set to go up for auction the following day.  

It looked like a typical job, the kind where Minho could sweet-talk some fools while Changbin punched some security guards and you hacked the vault from the van.  The security system around the haul turned out to be far more advanced.  Operating with a form of artificial intelligence, it essentially learns as it goes, meaning hacking it from the outside is incredibly difficult as it will understand and respond to invasion.  It will be easier to outsmart from the inside, where you can reach your hand into its virtual heart and pluck its digital ventricles one by one. 

The boys do not have that kind of computer knowledge.  So now Changbin is in your chair, Minho is doing his make-up, and you are waving around an emergency cocktail dress. 

“Who’s gonna watch my baby if I’m in there!”  

“Yah! Rude woman!  You remember who helped you build this thing?” Changbin pats one of the computer towers to make his point.  “I can do the basic work in here, but I can’t do your complicated nerd things.” 

“I’m not a nerd!”  You definitely are.  You stare at the cocktail dress morosely.  “You’re forgetting something super important. That I am a total weirdo and I panic whenever someone looks at me! There’s a reason I don’t do the people side of things!  That’s what you guys are good at!”

“Technically I just hit them,” Changbin says. 

“You are plenty charming when you want to be and you know it,” you say. 

Changbin folds his hands behind his head, flexing all his muscles while grinning. 

“How charming?” he teases, cocky.  “Describe it to me.” 

“Shut up.”  You hit him with the cocktail dress to hide the fact he got you genuinely flustered.  “I can’t go in there.  People will know I don’t belong the second I walk in the room.  We won’t even get close enough to the computer bank for me to disarm it because they’ll get one look at me and throw me out the window.” 

“That won’t happen,” Minho says.   His changing area is behind you and you hear the metallic slide of the curtain opening.  “Because you won’t be going in there alone.”  

You don’t even have to turn around to know Minho looks devastatingly gorgeous; it is written all over Changbin’s shocked face.  His arms lower from behind his head and his cocksure expression shifts, his lips parting as he stares past you.  

Despite having the benefit of bracing yourself, you are still struck dumb when you turn and look at Minho.  It was always in the plan that Minho would serve as a distraction at the gala.  To stand out accordingly, he dyed his hair with temporary dye this morning.  The vibrant purple was more amusing than sexy when his hair was messy, but now it is neatly styled back, slick and off his handsome face.  He is dressed all in white, his asymmetrical suit partially slit at the side to show some skin.  There is an extra sparkle from his jewelry, plus the lightest dab of glitter in the sharper contours of his face.  He is practically glowing. 

He knows he looks good.  His mouth quirks in a little smirk at your expressions.  You and Changbin are both gawping at him, and it goes on long enough that his eyebrows lift and his smirk puckers with a surprised laugh. 

“What? Really?” he asks, still laughing at you. 

Changbin does an unexpected sign of the cross.  You hit him with the cocktail dress again. 

“Fine,” you say, mostly to have an excuse to duck behind the curtain because you think you might explode from lust and embarrassment and anxiety all at once.  “At least no one will be looking at me.” 

You step behind the curtain and snap it closed, leaving the boys to their banter. 

You like dressing up so this part is no problem.  The problem with parties is other people.  You wholeheartedly admit you are better with zeroes and ones than human beings.   

You try to focus on the fun elements of tonight: the dress, the glamour, and beating a high-tech security system at its own game.  It will be so fun to have a real challenge for once.  You know you can beat it but it will definitely push you more than your usual digital adversaries.

Also, you get to look at Minho looking like that.  Your view of the boys is usually through security cameras, nestled in your van surrounded by your operating system, so the proximity will be a treat. 

You open the curtain, scowling.  You do not enjoy socializing so you seldom have occasion to dress up, so you anticipate the boys will lovingly berate you.  But when you step forward, Changbin looks at you with the same dumbfounded expression he had for Minho.  Minho is sitting on the bench, knees apart and arm slung across the backrest.  His expression gets very serious when he looks at you.  He shimmies his hips, his knees parting further. 

“Turn around,” he says.  

The van feels so tense and quiet that you obey, more confused than anything else. 

Changbin’s gaze drops to your ass immediately, his jaw visibly clenching.  Minho tips his head like he is studying something. 

“Thank you,” Minho says. 

You face them again, hot in the face.  You cross your arms angrily. 

“What was the point of that?” you demand.

Minho lifts a single eyebrow.  “I wanted to see your ass,” he says, like it should be obvious.  “It’s a good one.  You should be proud.” 

You throw your sweatpants at his stupid smirk.  He catches it smoothly. 

“Can we just go already?”  You punctuate this with a stomp of your foot then storm out of your precious van. 

It is very strange being on this side of the operation.  You always have Minho and Changbin nattering in your earpiece, but usually you are sitting at your desk wearing proper headphones.  It is strange wandering around with a tiny bud in your ear, listening to Changbin report from your usual seat. 

You already have control of the hotel security cameras as they work on a separate operating system to the storeroom AI.  You replaced the live feed with a looping reel of empty rooms so the security team inside will not see you moving around.  It also gives Changbin a bird’s eye view of the gala and the rest of the hotel.  You feel anxious at not seeing it for yourself, but you are placated when Changbin whistles and teases, “You two are the best looking there.  You would be second best looking if I was there, so you’re lucky I’m not.” 

You and Minho both smile, your expressions fond.  

Minho gets you in the door with little more than a wink at the doorman.  You stay quiet, hiding your nerves as best you can.  Minho is a competent con-man and Changbin is plenty reliable so you try to focus on your own tasks.  First you need to get to the ground floor network base so you can get the AI to chase your red herring.  Once you are in, the AI will start responding, but with your virus acting as a decoy source within the building, you should be able to buy yourselves time to move onto the next phase of breaking down the system. 

“There’s a lot of muscle at this party,” Changbin says seriously, no doubt taking stock of all the burly security guards.  It is only natural Changbin would be as twitchy as you, also out of his element for the night.  “I don’t like not being there with you,” he says.  

“Easy,” Minho says in a calm voice.  You think it is directed at both you and Changbin.  He puts a hand on your lower back and gives you a knowing look.  “You’re doing fine,” he says.

You feel like terror is written all over your face.  It doesn’t help that Minho draws eyes the second you step into the hotel ballroom, men and women looking at him with the usual desire he draws.  They are equally curious to look at you, their eyes on where his hand rests intimately low on your spine. 

“I’m gonna hurl,” you say.

“Not a bad idea,” he says.  He smiles with so much effortless charm that no one would suspect he is whispering criminal tips.  “The best con,” he says, his lips brushing your ear, “is one that is close to the truth.”  You shiver as his fingertips brush up your spine.  He rests his hand on your nape.  “Look sick,” he says.  “We’ll say we’re looking for a restroom if someone asks.” 

You follow his lead, weaving your way through the party.  Looking sick is the easiest instruction to follow because you feel genuinely ill, your anxiety a toxic twist in your gut.  

Only when you are wandering the empty hotel corridor do you feel at ease.  You feel even more at ease when you find the ground floor network hub.  Your first obstacle is a regular alarm code, twelve digits in length.  It is obviously too long to guess so you physically unscrew the alarm box and start some manual fiddling.  There is no way to fully disarm it without also setting it off, but that’s where your own AI gadget comes into play.  You plug in your cypher scrambler and let it do its thing.  It flickers through numbers, seeking the correct pattern, learning from its errors.  You designed it yourself and though it is always accurate, it takes a while to pull the numbers.  You and Minho are forced to hover in the hallway while it gradually reveals each piece of the code. 

You are up to number seven out of twelve when Changbin inhales sharply. 

“There’s a waiter walking in your direction,” he says.  “It looks like he’s taking a shortcut to somewhere else, but you have less than two minutes until he’s on you.”

 “What!”  You start to panic immediately.  “My decipher machine could take longer than that, what do we—”

“Relax, relax!”  Changbin says at the same time Minho steps behind you and grasps your shoulders.  He makes little shushing noises while massaging you, not that it does much to help. 

“We’re good,” Minho says.  “It’s just a waiter, not security.” 

“I’m gonna get us killed,” you say. 

“By a waiter?”  Minho asks.  He gives your shoulders another squeeze.  “Is he going to beat us with a baguette?  Hey, hey, relax.”

You are a vibrating bundle of nerves.  Minho is not usually the type to dive into a hug but he turns you around and pulls you into his arms.  You wrap your arms around his middle and hug him back, hiding your face in his neck. 

“Yeah, that will work,” Changbin says. 

“Huh?” you say, lifting your head. 

Minho is staring into a security camera as if having a mute exchange with Changbin.  He nods in agreement, though you still don’t understand. 

“What will work?” you ask. 

“Distraction,” Minho says.  You just look at him with confusion. 

“Baby,” Changbin says in a soft tone, “listen to my voice.”

The sudden gentleness of his voice makes you shiver.  Your fingers are shaking when Minho takes your hand and rests it over his heart.  You look up into his dark eyes as he smiles at you with familiar fondness.  You open your mouth to speak but he shakes his head, shushing you gently.  His eyes drift to the side in anticipation of an intruder. 

“Baby,” Changbin says, his honeyed tone softening your nerves, “Minho is going to kiss you.  Just do what I say, okay?” 

Your heart skips a beat, your eyes widening.

“You trust us?”  Changbin asks. 

You nod, answering Changbin, gazing at Minho. 

It’s the truth.  You might be scared but you have been scared before and your boys always come through.  Even when the rest of the world left you behind, when you turned to crime to keep yourself alive, Minho and Changbin were there.  They have never let you down.  You trust them with anything and everything. 

Minho slips his hand around your waist, pulling you close to him.  You have been close before, sharing the van, sharing hotel rooms, but this feels different.  He looks at you with intent, his handsome face so close, a strand of dark purple hair curled over his forehead.  Your hand finds that patch of bare skin when you touch his side.  He is familiar and foreign at once, your Minho, and also a character, one who clasps his hand behind your back and ducks down to gently kiss your lips. 

“Take a breath, baby,” Changbin says with a little chuckle.  “You look like you’re going to pass out.” 

“Mmf,” is the noise you make, affirming that observation.   It makes Minho laugh, a breath against your lips. 

“Waiter is thirty seconds away.  You just want to look like a dumb, horny couple that wandered away from the party,” Changbin says.  “Listen to me, I’ll tell you what do.”

You nod, sucking in a breath when Minho kisses you again.  This time his mouth is a little more insistent, his lips coaxing yours open. 

“Close your eyes, baby,” Changbin says.  “Let your shoulders drop.  Minho has you, it’s okay.” 

You didn’t even realize how tense your shoulders were.  You listen to Changbin, letting yourself go lax.  Minho holds you, as promised, his arms sturdy around your waist as he kisses you deeply. 

“Let Minho move you,” Changbin says. “He’s going to lean you against the wall to hide the device, okay?  Put your hands on his shoulders.  Higher, baby, go around his neck.  Just like that.  Let him lead you.” 

Minho walks you backwards, carefully pressing you against the wall, hiding the dangling cypher scrambler with your bodies. 

“We wanna give our intruder a little jump scare, okay?”  Changbin says.  “Minho.”  

That is all the direction he gives Minho, trusting the adept con-man to know exactly what to do.  Minho does, his hands sliding down to your hips to pull them flush against his.  It arches your back.  Your hands are hooked behind his neck and you squeak, your fingers instinctively sinking into his hair. 

“God,” Changbin says.  The sudden dark colour to his voice sends a spark of heat shooting through you.  It clearly surprises Minho too, his lips parting with a caught breath.  “You both look hot.  Fuck.” 

Changbin takes a steadying breath.  You and Minho look at each other.  You get to see his smirk for a split second, then his mouth is on yours and it is no longer gentle and questioning.  It is a demand, hot and wanting, your lips opening with his guidance, your heart skipping beats when he licks in your mouth. 

“Do it back,” Changbin says.  “You want him to fuck you, baby.  Make him believe it.”

You think the him is question is the waiter.  Isn’t it?  You don’t even know where the waiter is anymore, if he’s around the corner or watching.  In the haziness of your kiss, it hardly seems to matter.  You kiss Minho back with the same urgency, pulling him closer, whimpering when he bites your bottom lip. 

“Fuck,” is the gentle whisper that Minho can’t fight.  His brow is crinkled, his eyes closed.  He kisses you again, his hands jumping up to gather yours.  He laces his fingers with yours and presses your hands into the wall on either side of your head. 

“Wrap your leg around his waist,” Changbin says.  “Like that, that’s it, you’re okay.” 

You lift one leg, shaky and unsure.  Minho catches you under the knee and pulls it more certainly around him.  He holds you there, his other hand grasping your throat very gently as he kisses and kisses and kisses you.  Your hands are still splayed open by your head, thoughtlessly awaiting direction.  Your fingers curl into your palm and you moan for real when Minho presses against you. 

Minho is a good actor, but the hard shape in his pants is very real.  When he grinds against you, so open and soft with your leg around his waist, it draws all those guttural sounds right out of you.  Minho makes one back, swivelling his hips in a maddening grind against you.  It is all too easy to imagine him fucking you like this, the effortless back-and-forth of his hips, your sweet sighs as he takes you, imagining Changbin there, his breath also stuttering. 

You do not forget he is watching all this, especially when he lets another low laugh and asks, “She feel good?”

“Yes,” Minho answers without hesitation, breathing the word against your lips. 

“Hold his face, baby,” Changbin says.  “Kiss him like you mean it.  Ask him to fuck you with it.”

You know what he means by that: to kiss Minho with fervency and heat.  You do obey, cupping his face with both hands and kissing him deeply, but the fuzziness of desire mixed with Changbin’s words makes your brain go screwy with want.  Not only does your kiss convey that desire, but words rush past your mouth, crashing into Minho’s lips in a breathless flurry.

“Fuck me, fuck me, please,” you say, your voice pitching up into a little whine as you rock against him.  “Want you to fuck me so bad, baby,” you say, thinking of both of them at the same.   You kiss Minho’s surprised, open mouth, your eyes closed, your voice loud in this hazy space as you say, “I’ve been thinking about it all night.  Need it so bad.  Please.  Want you inside me.  Want my mouth on you.  Come in me.  Come on me.  Take me, please.  I’m so hot and wet, it’ll feel so good, don’t you want to feel how wet I am?  Don’t you want to fuck me too?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Changbin says, followed by a rush of even more inventive curses.

Minho settles on another simple, surprised, “Fuck.” 

Then someone is clearing their throat.  Minho jumps, his hands clamping tighter around you, protective. 

“Oh, right, this clown,” Changbin says.  “I hate that he’s too far away too punch.” 

You giggle in spite of yourself, which is good because you think you might simultaneously die of embarrassment.  You drop your leg and Minho lets you go, pulling himself together faster than you. 

You let him do his thing, sliding a hand through his hair and smirking at the waiter as he saunters over.  He makes his little speech, something-something-something a moment alone with the missus, something-something sorry-sorry-sorry.   He walks the waiter back around the corner, giving you a knowing glance over his shoulder. 

Thank god your cypher scrambler has its act together, even if you are a mess.  It takes you longer to right yourself than it does for the scrambler to finish its job.  Your hands are shaking as you break into the hub, but muscle memory takes over when you have your mini-laptop open. 

Minho joins you a minute later.  Your entire body lights up like a firework when he steps close to you.  Nothing in his expression conveys anything more than professionalism – his queries are about the job and the job alone – but there is an ache between your thighs that won’t subside.  You know he feels the same way as you can see he is still hard despite how much he glares at the wall.  He adjusts his pants several times while standing in that closet of a hub with you.  You keep glancing at each other, your gazes heady, speaking volumes more than your polite conversation.   

When you leave and he puts his hand on your lower back, you shiver.  You think you might double over from the persistent thumping of your easily-distracted pussy. 

Changbin lets out a long sigh and a nervous giggle.  “Good work, team,” he says. 

You have worked enough jobs that you manage to set aside your personal feelings for the time being.  It is easy to lose yourself in your work, especially when you really have to fight the security system.  

You get inside the storeroom.  You know it is filled with more traps and alarms so you sit down beside the door and type away on your laptop.  You nearly break a sweat with the intensity of your work. 

“She’s hot when she’s doing her thing,” Changbin suddenly says. 

You lift your head and catch Minho’s eye.  He smiles at you.  “I agree,” he says. 

Your heart starts skipping beats again.  You look down at your laptop, feeling uncharacteristically shy under his gaze. 

“Don’t distract me,” you say, making both of them laugh a little.  You glare at Minho but there is no real animosity behind it. 

At least they both acquiesce, going silent while you work.  You manage to disarm most of the storeroom.  The best you can do for the remainder of traps is trigger their subsequent lighting rigs so you can see them all.  A labyrinth of blue light brightens the dark entry room, revealing each laser trigger that blocks your path to the locked compartments. 

You look up at Minho whose calculating gaze is already tracing each intricate beam. 

“Got it?”  Changbin asks.

Minho starts unbuttoning his suit.  “Always,” he says, smirking. 

Minho flips the blazer down his arms, revealing just a tight white crop top beneath it.  His jacket, shoes, and jewelry form a pile beside you.   Minho does a few quick stretches before confidently approaching the laser grid. 

Before his criminal life, Minho was a dancer, and a good one.   He draws the same graceful lines with his body now, making each manoeuvre look easy even though you know it is incredibly difficult. 

“He’s hot when he’s doing his thing,” Changbin says.

“Yeah,” you say, biting your lip and watching Minho move.  “Gotta agree.” 

Minho slips over and under each laser, twisting and bending and sliding with ease.  He pops up on the other side with a graceful twirl, throwing you a wink over his shoulder before flipping a switch on the control panel.  It powers down the censors so you can scurry across the room to join him. 

The compartment door unlocks with your final hacked access code, the door swinging open to reveal your loot.  Changbin gives a successful holler into your earpiece, making you and Minho duck with his volume. 

“I’ll bring the car around, baby,” Changbin says while you two roll your eyes but smile. 

You pack your fold out bags with your selections.  One key to success is never being overly greedy.  You walk away with a substantial victory nonetheless.    

You hurry out of the storeroom with your prize haul.  Minho gets dressed again, though he doesn’t button up his jacket.  He takes a second to catch his breath while you restore each alarm so nothing appears out of place.   When you are ready to go, he takes your hand, smiling.  You run hand-in-hand back down the corridor, making a few sharp turns until you find a staff exit.  There is a small drop so Minho jumps down first then holds out his arms for you.  Though you could make the jump easily, you still let yourself fall into his arms.  

He holds you close as he puts you on your feet.  You are riding the high of adrenaline and success, your heart soaring, which might be why you so easily surrender to desire.   You kiss him, sudden and brief but tantalizing.  He blinks back at you with surprise, his face scrunching with that astonished little laugh of his.   

You smile at him.  A line of sweat dots his hairline and you reach up, smoothing some messy strands of purple hair.  The gentle caress changes the whole shape of his face, his eyes heavy-lidded, his breathing harder.  You feel yourself change too, your heart pounding against his chest when he pulls you close. 

You got greedy with that kiss and greediness has consequences.  You are so distracted with each other that you don’t notice the security guards coming at you from the opposite direction. 

“Hey!” one shouts.  “What are you doing out here?” 

You and Minho look over, then at each other.  There is no time for conversation.  You grab each other’s hands and start running, your bags of stolen goods bouncing on your shoulders. 

“Hey!” the security guard shouts again.  You can hear their heavy footsteps thundering after you, fast despite their muscle and bulk. 

You turn the corner onto a backstreet just in time for the camper van to swing into view.  The door slides open and Changbin jumps out.  You pass each other, dropping hands so Changbin can dart between you.  

Panting, you and Minho watch as Changbin effortlessly takes down the guards. 

“He’s hot when he’s doing his thing,” you say, giggling.

Minho laughs, nodding.  “I agree,” he says. 

Minho takes the steering wheel so you can apologize to your baby for abandoning her.  Changbin jumps back in the van and the three of you drive away with another successful haul. 

Later, back at the penthouse, Minho takes the longest shower in an effort to scrub the purple out of his hair.  You are in your bedroom when he finally emerges.  You can hear him and Changbin talking in the living room.  By the sounds of it, the purple is still threaded in his dark brown hair, likely to last a few more days.  You smile to yourself, listening to their playful back-and-forth as Changbin teases him and Minho snarkily retaliates. 

It is tradition after a successful job to have a few drinks and relax.  Contacting your fence and taking care of business can wait until tomorrow. 

You can hear the usual music playing through the speakers, can hear the clink of bottles and glasses, can hear Changbin and Minho laughing and talking. 

You look at your reflection in the mirror.  Though you seldom have occasion to wear pretty luxuries, you have enough money at your disposal to treat yourself.   You have been changing in and out of different lingerie sets since you got home.  You think this one might be just right: a silky black set worn under a lacy black dress that falls to your thighs.  It is suggestive but arguably casual.  You could just be wearing it as pyjamas, right?  Sure.  Sure.  Totally normal pyjamas for a totally normal night.

The best con is one that is close to the truth, Minho had said.  Then he stuck his tongue in your mouth and you begged him to fuck you with Changbin’s help.  Even you, who is terrible at reading and understanding people, know what truth was in that charade. 

You take a deep breath and march to your bedroom door with determination.  You throw it open so hard that it smashes into the wall, startling the boys in the other room.  You ignore the crash and scurry into sight, avoiding eye contact.

“Hello,” you say.

There is a moment of prolonged silence then Changbin says, “Hi.”

You look up.  They are both staring at you, both wide-eyed, both in sweatpants and t-shirts with their hair undone and fluffy.  They look very casual and very surprised.  Minho is clutching a beer bottle and Changbin is holding a bowl of popcorn.  Both of them are frozen.

You smile a very awkward smile.

“Hello,” you say again.  “I am… I am… dressed.  For bed.  My bed.  For being in my bed, like this, as I am dressed right now.  I am going to that bed, now, like this.  You can… join me.  If you want.  If you don’t want, then, okay.  Hello.  And.  Goodbye.  Bye.” 

You run back to your bedroom and slam the door closed. 

Other than the soft music still swirling in the air, the penthouse is quiet.  You cannot hear the boys, not a comment, not a sound, not a breath.

Then you hear the popcorn bowl hit the ground and a bottle smash.  They shove and yell at each other as they stumble on the way to your bedroom.  You are standing awkwardly in the middle of your room, hands folded in front of you, waiting as they crash into your bedroom door and curse at each other. 

Changbin then very casually opens the door and they calmly walk inside. 

“Hello,” you say. 

“Hi,” Changbin replies. 

You wish thoughts could be hacked like a computer.  You cannot think of what to say or do next.  You just stare at them and they stare back, although their gazes are considerably less nervous.  Their stares are thirsty, drinking you in, looking from top to bottom and back again. 

“Turn around,” Minho says, his gaze low. 

You meet Changbin’s eye before obliging, slowly turning.

“Okay,” Minho says after a long moment, giving your heart plenty of time to go crazy in your chest.  “Thank you.” 

You turn back around, just as embarrassed as earlier but not angry at all.  You cross your arms over your chest, flicking your gaze between them. 

Minho reaches out and lightly punches Changbin on the arm.  Changbin looks at him and Minho gives him a look, one you cannot decipher.  You continue to stare at them. 

Changbin nods at Minho then looks at you.  He holds out his hand. 

“Breathe, baby,” he says.  “You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

You laugh but nod, taking his hand.  He wastes no time pulling you close, guiding your hand to his heart as Minho did earlier.  He holds your hand there and waits until you make eye contact so he can wink at you. 

“I know I am the best looking man you have ever seen in your life,” he says, making you laugh again, “but I’m me.  You trust us?”

You look at him then at Minho.  His dark hair is still tinted purple, his bare face open and soft as he meets your eye.  You smile and look back at Changbin, nodding. 

“Always,” you say. 

“Good,” Changbin says. 

He cups your face and you lean towards him, anticipating a kiss, but he gently turns your face aside.  You don’t even have time to be confused before Minho is kissing you.  He swiftly draws all those sweet sounds out of you, pulling you towards him.  Changbin steps behind you, holding your hips and kissing his way up your neck to your ear. 

“Baby,” Changbin says while Minho slows his kiss to something gentle but heated, his tongue swiping at yours.  “Listen to my voice, okay?” 

You nod, light-headed but eager. 

“Good,” Changbin says.  “Come sit in my lap.  Over here.” 

Changbin is strong enough to haul you around.  You barely have to move, letting yourself go soft in his arms.  He sits on the edge of the bed and puts you in his lap, spreading your legs over his thighs.   You stare up at Minho, out of breath, your thighs twitching to close for pressure.  Changbin slides a hand down, stroking your inner thigh and making you jump, his other hand tugging down your dress and immediately going for your breast. 

Minho sweeps a hand through his hair, taking a breath before stepping up to you. 

“Still want your mouth on him, baby?”  Changbin asks, reminding you of all the things you whispered in that heated moment.  

You nod, whimpering when Changbin slides his hands into your panties and touches you directly.  He circles and circles the most sensitive cluster of nerves, grunting and pressing his lips to your neck. 

“She’s so fucking wet,” Changbin says.  He slips his hand out of your panties and abruptly grabs Minho by the hand, tugging him closer.   Minho brings that hand to his mouth, licking your wetness off Changbin’s fingertips.  “Touch him baby,” Changbin says.  “You see how hard he is for you?”

You can see.  You can feel Changbin too, hard under you.  Their sweatpants do little to disguise it. 

You do not hesitate obeying, tugging on the waistband of Minho’s sweats.  Everything feels so dreamy and good, surrounded by touch.  It all seems to happen quickly; suddenly Changbin’s hand is in your panties, Minho’s dick is in your mouth, and Minho’s hands are tugging the straps of your dress down.   This ends with you drooling messily all over the end of his dick, sucking on the head and murmuring nonsense while Changbin makes you come on his fingers.  Then Minho kneels in front of you both, your legs end up over his shoulders, and you find yourself hurtling towards another orgasm on his mouth. 

You dress ends up somewhere, the panties too.  The bra is barely on, the straps hanging down your arms.  Changbin finally kisses you when you are on your back in the middle of the bed.  He lays between your open legs, his fingers filling you up as you continue to gush all over his hand.  You grab him, squeezing his biceps as he effortlessly moves that strong hand between your legs.  Minho climbs up too, his shirt somewhere across the room.  He grabs your hands and pulls them over your head, pinning them into the pillows before ducking down to kiss you.   You come for a third time before either of them even fucks you. 

Then they do.  Minho first, with you under him, listening to every direction Changbin murmurs in your ear.  You lift your legs around his waist when Changbin says, then touch yourself when Changbin asks, and shudder when Minho comes inside you like you earlier begged. 

Then Minho is behind you, holding you, touching you, protective and familiar while Changbin fucks you.  Changbin has a surprisingly filthy mouth, continuing to tell you how good you feel and how good you look.  Minho is quiet but fully entranced by you, his hands constantly wandering.  He slides one hand down and rubs you off while Changbin fucks you.  Then he leans over your shoulder and kisses Changbin on the mouth, making Changbin finish too.  

The music is still playing in the next room.   The three of you lay there in various states of undress, you in the middle, sweaty and messy, the boys panting and gently stroking your arms and thighs. 

“I love you guys,” you say.  It is incredibly cliché to make a love confession after several mind-blowing orgasms, but you don’t care.   You don’t need to play games or tell lies or be good at socializing, not with your boys.   You can just be your nerdy self, confessing your feelings even while drifting into sleep. 

You smile when you feel Minho kissing your cheek, Changbin giggling on your other side. 

“It will have to be big,” Changbin says.  “The biggest.”

“Hmm?” you ask, looking at him strangely. 

“The diamond we steal to put on your finger,” Changbin says, holding up your hand and circling your ring finger.  You laugh and try to pull your hand back but Minho catches it, nodding in accord. 

“I agree,” Minho says.  He kisses your temple.  “I know how criminals work,” he adds.  “You’re not getting stolen away from us.” 

He and Changbin exchange an affectionate glance over you, nodding at each other, then they are each kissing a side of your face as you squirm and laugh.  You swipe at Minho’s purple hair and kiss Changbin’s cheek, then nestle into their arms as they wrap around you, protective as always. 

[savi-our]

Anti-Harem with OP Mage MC pt. 3 ft. Horrortale

Its 3 am- This... this is over 3k words.... I'm both cooking and cooked apparently bc this is even longer and more detailed than the last part, I honestly dont know what came over me. The ending is a bit rushed and im posting this half asleep and barely able to make sense of whether or not any of this is actually good but i wanted to post it before going off to sleep - i do hope you enjoy it though, even if by this point im not sure you can call it an anti harem... maybe ill explore that bit more in the next part.... (p.s. i would love love looove to hear you guy's thoughts on what ive cooked up here so please leave a comment if youre inclined to <3)

Part 1 Part 2

It had been a few weeks since the attack on the monster settlement and your work kept you busy. Black and Mutt had both been a welcome new change as far as your experience in monsters went, the three of you seemed to grow closer by the day - sharing the mutual burdens of your job whenever you had any amount of free time. You and Black formed a good professional relationship, often sharing insights on the progress of monster integration into the world outside, and Mutt - albeit avoidant, seemed to develop an interest in watching you whenever he thought you wouldn't notice. He even sometimes visited you whenever his brother had been busy, coming to your office to slump on your couch and waste away his free time, scrolling through his phone and trying not to get caught staring at you while you filed away paperwork.

It was on a particularly early morning that you had arrived at your office, still dazed from your lack of sleep when a new case appeared at your desk. You rarely did personal requests, but this one you could hardly refuse as it had come from one of the joint rulers of the Underground. 

Queen Toriel summoned you, and you listened as she told you her concerns about a particular percentage of her population having an especially difficult time with the integration process. You picked up on the finer details of her request - unspoken words to her plea.

You were aware of the spatial anomaly that had caused the particular brand of chaos that was currently plaguing Monsterkind, a rift that had caused a collision of alternates and pulled them all here. It was a guarded secret among the higher ranking officials, the details shared only to those who were known to be trusted - or to those who were smart enough to see beyond the fragile lie. You were both you supposed, the Archmage themselves requested your insight into the matter, and you offered to consult wherever you could. It didn't surprise you that the Queen turned to you for assistance - involved as you were in the matter.

You agreed to her request, you could hardly refuse considering the high brand on the paperwork, the signature of the Archmage looped in finer print at the corner of the page. You left promptly, assigning a trusted associate of yours to man the office while you were gone, unfortunately the urgency of your task bid no time to waste so you left without notifying the two skeletons that had seemed to be stuck in your orbit as of late, but that was the nature of things when you had such a demanding position.

You were relocated into the depths of the Underground, a rather lavish apartment greeting you in the shadow of the castle of the royal families, but you had little time to waste, the faster you got to work the smoother the integration process would be.

You met with those currently overseeing the progress of the whole thing, a joint department consisting of monsters, humans and mages - social workers, professors, doctors, therapists and volunteers - all with ample experience concerning the more particular quirks that came with joining cultures and assessing risks where there were any. Your status would do you more harm than good here - you realize early on, advised by the royal court to take a more personal approach as you shed down your heavy coats and branded insignias - monsters in the underground were still rather wary of mages, especially ones as infamous as you. You took on the faux position of a well renowned inspector, and set yourself to figuring out what the problem was and how best to solve it.

It was there that you met them, two new yet rather familiar faces that were introduced to you as the spokespersons for the rebuffed population, Twilight and Dusk by name. 

Twilight was large, even by monster standards, a lean silhouette that towered over any others in the room with a set of jagged teeth and a weathered look to his eyes. His appearance however, seemed to be rather misleading. He was friendly, overly so, extending his hand to you in his introduction as he shook yours with a controlled precision, his crooked grin lifted, delighted to meet a new face among the many who were already so familiar over his long stay in the program. He was chatty, friendly even, a social butterfly that delighted in telling you about the many state of affairs that flitted about the establishment. There were some quirks however… every now and again he confused words, voiced idioms that you could hardly make sense of - something about frisbees. He had ticks, nervous habits and moments of sudden cautious anxiety that brought concerns to your mind, there were times where he seemed almost manic, a rattling in his bones as he flitted about the room as if trying to burn off excess magic, trying to keep his hands and mind occupied.

Then there was Dusk. Like his brother he was considerably larger than the average monster. He was bulkier, bigger, an imposing presence in the room that set even your nerves on edge. He seemed dangerous, more than any of the other monsters you've come across, something in your mind whispered caution as you introduced yourself. The best word you could use to describe Dusk was heavy, both literally and metaphorically. He dragged his words as if he practically pulled them from the depths of his mind, his movements were slow, weighed almost by some unforeseen force you could not comprehend, and every now and again he lost focus, a single red eyelight dilated and staring promptly into nothing. His mind was both sharp and slow at the same time, he often shared insights that were surprising in their outside perspective, he commented on things that others had passed by in their expertise - drawing attention to underlying issues that had been overlooked due to the fact that nobody had really thought of them as issues before he made comment. He had a finer eye for detail, but at the same time there were moments where he'd lose his train of thought, a byproduct of his severe head wound no doubt, words forgotten on the tip of his tongue - moments like those seemed frustrate him quite badly, his fingers pulled on his one blank eye socket in quiet irritation. On his better days he'd make offhanded puns that were rather dark in theme - cannibalism seemed to be a favorite of his. On his bad days his voice turned cold, words sharp as his grin pulled on his face almost maniacally, he was tense, guarded like a cornered dog ready to bare teeth.

It had taken you some time to get situated in your new environment, you spent your days meeting with the other monsters who shared similar ailments to both Twilight and Dusk, consulting with the people directly responsible for their integration process and finding correlations between things that worked best and those that didn't work at all. A common pattern in all of those monsters became clear days after your assignment, the heightened cases of sudden anxiety and panic attacks. It was odd to you for some reason, it wouldn't be unnatural for this particular batch of alternates to suffer from such things, considering what you knew they had gone through back in their own reality, but something about it seemed odd.

You investigated your suspicions further, repeatedly meeting monsters and doctors alike, questioning them about the intricacies of their ailments, trying to garner light on the plausible cause for the widespread issue. Twilight seemed eager to help you, he often accompanied you in your search for more information, more knowledge, and his assistance proved quite useful - when you questioned him as to why he seemed so willing to assist you, he responded with an abashed admission - a want to help the monsters who were struggling most finally see the light of day, to taste the fresh air of the outside world, they had been stuck underground for too long. He often stayed with you after hours, organizing papers and research as you delved into the mystery with a hyper focused obsessiveness. You found you always became like this, obsessive over things you could not define or explain, it was that part of you that had helped you rise in power as fast as you had, starved for answers, eager to explore and redefine the things unknown to you- it was almost nostalgic in a way.

 Twilight had a talent for filling blanks in your knowledge, unfamiliar territory as this was he often offered you more insight in the particularities of monster illnesses and behavioral patterns that you were not privy to. You often asked him for clarifications and added depth to your research and he provided them eagerly - either through his own knowledge or systematically organized interviews and research papers that were color coordinated and alphabetized neatly on your desk. He had a knack for organization that one, but you couldn't help but notice how his expression soured whenever he had to bend to lift a particularly heavy box of files off the floor - he tried to hide it, face turned away and the occasional popping of bones concealed by the clear of his throat, but you noticed. You tentatively questioned him about it one late evening, not wishing to pry more than he was comfortable with. He seemed embarrassed by your attentiveness but didn't deny it, hands clasped and pulling on his long fingers in a nervous habit. He revealed to you that the current brand of healing magic and medicine could do very little for his deteriorated state, the effect was not potent enough or so it seemed. The fact didn't sit right with you, and you decided in your mind that you could multitask.

Your research prolonged, and your frustrations grew as the answer to your questions evaded you. You began to spend more time in your office than in your pristine afforded apartment, head buried in books and rushed consultations between experts in the department. Your obsessiveness seemed to grow, and with it your attention to your health lessened, overtaken by a constant hunger for answers. That hunger seemed to replace your baser instincts however, and one particularly busy day the consequences of your declining attention to your physical state seemed to catch up with you.

 You had been on your way to another scheduled meeting with an on site surgeon, carrying a closed file with a hurried pace, you were far too absorbed in your head to notice the shake of your own fingers, or the way the corners of your vision blurred. You were so absorbed in fact, that you didn't even notice the sudden approach of Dusk from the hall across from you. You had ran right into him, nose buried in the plush of his sweater as you had your senses knocked right out of you. The contact didn't even phase him, and he had caught you by the forearm to steady you. You had apologized, noting how it was unlike you to be so distracted in your surroundings. He hadn’t seemed to mind, his large eyelight coming to a soft focus on the point of contact with your arm. 

The force of your run in with him had knocked the file you were carrying onto the ground however, and as you leaned down in your hurry to grab it the world around you spun. You lost your bearings, and your vision turned to black as you fainted, vaguely aware of the pull of someone's arms around you.

You had woken up in one of the medical rooms, an IV in your arm and a growing headache in the corner of your mind. Dusk was there too, hunched in an office chair that was far too small for his hulking frame, you would have laughed - if you hadn't felt like shit at the time that is. Your movement seemed to wake him from his zoning out, and he had leveled you with a look that you couldn't readily discern - something of a mix between worry, scrutiny and confusion. The doctor on hand had walked in to check up on you, cautioning you to pay better attention to your health, you had felt like a child, embarrassed with your own state. Dusk had sat silent next to your bed while you were being discharged, and as you stood to leave with an order to go home and get some rest from the doctor, he stood with you.

The skeleton escorted you home, a silent but unmistakable presence at your side and as you were ready to thank him and say your goodbyes at your door, he had asked you when you had last gotten something to eat - you couldn't give him a straight answer. 

He had pushed his way inside your temporary home then, and you questioned him in your confusion as he opened your fridge to find it mostly empty, he clicked his tongue, a low growling hum from the pit of his ribs as he pushed you down on your couch with a stern order to ‘wait here’

He blinked out of existence then, returning after a while with a greasy bag of food and he urged you to eat, pushing the bag in your lap despite your urge of protests. You complied, silently eating under the watchful eye of his softly dilated gaze.

From then on Dusk began to visit your office on a regular basis, bringing both you and Twilight regular meals and spending his time lounging in one of the bigger chairs available at the time, idly flipping through books. His presence seemed to anchor you, and often he knocked you out of your hyper focused state with a random pun or an offhand comment about the weather. It worked, your urgency had stilled to a healthy normal, mind clearer as both brothers had now taken to paying a keen interest in your physical condition. You still remembered the frantic lecture Twilight had given you after your little trip to the emergency room. He had begun to limit your time in the office after that, setting a healthy time table with a balanced schedule for both rest and work.

The growing connection between the three of you was plain as day, and as days passed you began to find the answers you were so desperately looking for. It was a regular day in the office when you finally solved the mystery - a calm afternoon spent in a comfortable conversation with the brothers over a cup of tea and some snacks Twilight had graciously shared. You had been brainstorming with the brothers, shooting off your theories for plausible causes when Dusk piped in with something that caught your attention. 

You almost dropped the cup of tea you had been idly cradling in your hand. Jumping up to your feet in a newly discovered frenzy, you rifled through a box of files that had been offhandedly pushed to the side, and as you flipped through a particular heavy file about dietary needs it was then that it hit you, something so simple and so overlooked - of course Dusk would have been the one to point it out. Your grin was almost manic in its excitement as the puzzle pieces finally clicked into place, and you turned to the brothers that had gathered behind you in their confusion. You pulled each of them down by their faces, placing a loud smack of your lips on both of their foreheads and watched their faces glow warm as you called them both a genius. You rushed out of the office, missing exchanged looks of embarrassment - eager to share and confirm your discovery.

It was simple really, so easy to miss in all the confusion of the spatial rift and the ongoing process of integration. It was the food that was making the monsters so sick and riddled with anxiety. Coming from a reality here there had been a significant shortage of food - the first response of the healthier populace had been to feed them, feed them as much as they wanted to eat, it was natural really. Except monster food - magical in nature had high levels of energy, too high for a population of monsters that had been previously so deprived of sustenance. It made their magic run rampant, fluctuate in its intensity with high highs and even lower lows. It was the same in humans, eating too much after starving made the patient sick and would effectively do more harm than good. The answer was right there all along, and you cursed yourself at not seeing it sooner.

Things moved quickly after that, you wasted no time to form a plan of order for a change in provisions, something less straining, human food imbued with magical properties was the natural choice. It would take time for the monster's conditions to stabilize, but after a few days on the new program you began seeing positive results. You had reported your success to the royal family and Toriel had once again summoned you for a showing of your solution. If things went as predicted, the rebuffed population would soon show results of steady improvement, they would finally be prime and ready for the further relocation process.

The queen had thanked you for your service and had shown you a rather unexpected act of kindness in doing so, inviting you over to her rooms for a private tea party where you both conversed not like high mage and ruler, but as two troubled souls with the weight of the world on each of your shoulders. It was pleasant, if not a bit awkward on your part, but Toriel seemed to have a knack for making someone feel welcome.

It was a couple of days before your departure that you had invited the skeleton brothers to your apartment for a celebration dinner, you had surprised them with a meal of your own making. Expertly following the guide of their new diet you had imbued it with your own magic, the fact seemed to fluster the brothers for some reason, but they were unwilling to comment as to the reason why. 

The evening trailed off in shared conversation, and as the hour grew late, the mood slightly sombered, it seemed like both Twilight and Dusk had something they had been meaning to confess for a while now, but it had never seemed like the right time. You had a feeling you knew what it was about - they weren't aware of just how much you knew about their past -you had been pretending to be a high ranking inspector after all, a secret as big as alternate realities wouldn't be handed off to someone as low down the hierarchy as that.

It was then that they opened up to you, a cautious whispered admission of their past sins, sins bred out of desperation and grief. In a moment of your own vulnerability you told them you knew, you knew and understood. You reassured them that it didn't change your opinion of them, you shared gentle words of encouragement, soft admissions of your own grief filled memories. 

You would not judge them for their past, because you saw in them a desperate wish for a better life, a fragile hope that they could learn to become monsters capable of loving themselves. 

Perhaps it was wrong, out of all the people in the world it was you who were the greatest threat to their continued existence. You realized you held their fragile future in your scarred hands, and decided to trust in the goodness in their souls.

[carmenlire]

aaa i just read your gonjo fic and its so good but heartbreaking in a way where gon knows how much yeong is choosing to go through for him 😭 id like to think that gon would comfort him in ways that doesnt make it obvious to yeong how much he knows about the training :') and exactly!! imagine how much gon is scared thru those 2 weeks where yeong is gone he'd be LOSING it. and yeong not being resigned about his end but resolved SO true ugh and thinking about gon hearing yeong's last words (1/?)

+he’d be SO panicked and ordering everyone to get to where yeong is. he refuses to lose yeong and saves him at any cost even if the cost is his kingdom or himself. and during the cavalry scene he shouts ‘protect your captain. he’s your future prince’ lfhfg and yeong doesnt even process it until later while gon is at yeong’s side throughout his whole recovery no matter how long that is :’) yeong being prince consort is such a good concept too the potential of him adjusting to the new role- (2/?)

both familiar and unfamiliar bc he’s at gon’s side but for a different reason 🥺 and hed be such a badass prince consort too. he still trains a lot while learning how to rule corea with gon theyd be a power couple fr. ooo im def gonna read some gonjo fics soon so ill look out for it :D and abt the SE au- RIGHT i think seeing sangwoo be vulnerable with jaeyoung after being hurt and jaeyoung frantically trying to save him and comfort him and being protective is such a fun trope ugh love them (3/3)

once again i wrote entirely too much BUT I LOVE YOUR IDEAS SO MUCH MY BRAIN IS JUST GONJO SOUP

I need you to know my jaw literally dropped whenever i read "protect your captain. he's the future prince." LIKE CAN U HEAR ME ABSOLUTELY SCREAMING!!! you're so right UR SO RIGHT!!!! Like just thinking about how all of the guards would 1) do anything for their captain like wtf they love and respect and admire yeong SO MUCH and 2) they've been on edge for two weeks too and while they weren't privvy to yeong's final voicemail to gon, they know just by the fury and anguish on gon's face that things aren't looking good 3) and then gon says that?!?!?! and suddenly their captain is even higher on their protect list??? like it's literally their one duty to protect the royal family like oh my gosh the tension is delicious!!!!!!

about the little fic i read-- yeah i do think that while gon never explicitly mentions it or brings it up; he has eyes and he can see some of the issues yeong might have-- so maybe (in my take) his thigh aches when it rains and gon knows on days it's storming, he spends in his office or persuading yeong to play hooky and have a movie marathon or something.

and of course once they're together and the (perceived) barriers fall awy between them, gon has no issue with pampering yeong and showing his care in that way-- yeong gets flustered but he can't help but smile and they both love it.

and yes!! that's part of why gonjo just makes sense! gon and yeong are a unit and being prince consort would make it so that they literally never have to part. yeong would be such a good royal-- he's smart and ambitious and brilliant at strategizing. gon considers him an invaluable asset.

i do think that it would be difficult for him to reconcile not being captain anymore-- even if gon never stops referencing him as such (omg they've been married for twenty years and his secretary will be like "u have a lunch at noon" and gon will say "will my captain be there") (of course the new captain ho-pil has learned to distinguish when he's actually being referred to).

i think yeong would probably always carry a gun on him; i can't imagine him giving that up. and i'm picturing maybe the first time they're together and there's an incident (someone fires a gun?) and yeong instinctively tackels gon just for one of the guards to tackle them both and gon is both amused and endeared and incensed whie yeong is just like what am i supposed to do (ho-pil: let me do my job. sir.)

and i'm thinking about how meticulous and cold he would be when him and gon have children and he needs the guards to understand just how important protecting them are-- the new guards who didn't know yeong before he married gon would be literally shaking but ho-pil and in-young and mi-reuk stand up to the challenge.

and yes-- i love the SE dynamics so much and i think it translates so well into so many AUs!!! personally, i'd love to see a coffeeshop au where jaeyoung is a barista and sangwoo is a regular who always orders, like, an iced americano and jaeyoung makes it his mission to have sangwoo try fun drinks (and score a date in the process).

[stargaze-issei]

— "𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞" (𝐛. 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭; when your father, the head of the japanese mafia, was killed, your childhood friend swore to protect you till his death. now, you're the empress of the underground world, and he doesn't know what's harder, to keep you safe or manage to hide his feelings. what will he do when, for the first time, your life's at risk and he isn't anywhere near?

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞; mafia!au, angst.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; swearing, mentions of blood, guns, murder, kidnap, yk... mafia stuff.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 2.7k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; lemme know if u want a part two bc i felt like it was getting too long and i don't know if anyone will read it or like it 👉🏻👈🏻

"where the fuck are you?" bakugou's voice stroke over the phone, noticeably angry. he had told you several times to never go anywhere without him, which you mostly did, if it weren't for him being away a lot of times. nothing less was expected from your right hand, who handled every dirty job, and considering your line of work, it wasn't scarce. but you did had other bodyguards, just as trained as katsuki, willing to give their lifes for you, which was extremely better than having bakugou giving his life.

to his eyes, you were still the little girl from before. he saw you as a someone who needed protection. at first, you agreed. your father was murdered, someone managed to get through all his security and killed him, none of the guns he and his security team carried around could protect him, killing you would be like stealing a sweet from a baby. bakugou had always kept you safe, despite his agressive usual safe, he cared about you more than he cared for himself. so you stuck to his side, believing, hoping, he'd die for you. but that was a long time ago, now, you could defend yourself, and had raised a sense of loyalty in your people by your own. your father's empire was based in fear, yours? by admiration. you didn't see your people as working ants, but as important parts of a whole. still, anyone who was a threat to you, bakugou made sure to erase them forever.

"don't talk to me like that, i'm your boss" you could feel him losing his shit, a smile began to form in your face. even when everyone respected you, he was still the same.

"you can't boss anyone if you're fucking dead, you dumb shit" a laugh came out of your throat, he couldn't avoid smiling at the sound "wait, oh, okay, i know we're you are. stay there, i'll be in three" he hung up before you could reply.

you looked back, at one of your guards who was just putting away his phone. of course they told him. why couldn't you go get your own coffee? being in the office all day was tiring, to be five minutes outside was all you asked for. a few seconds after, they handed you your coffee, obviously, a guard had to try it first, in case that barista wanted to suddenly murder you. of course he didn't.

"who let her go outside without me knowing, huh?" a furious katsuki appeared through the door, making a scene in the place. you gave him a warning look. if there was something you hated, was that. everyone in the area knew who you were, but why make it any more obvious. those people were just living their usual lifes, and people tend to get nervous around you. "the car is waiting outside" he understood, but you knew he was going to scold you anyways.

you walked outside, smiling, and got into the car, followed by katsuki and one of his subordinates, the other one got in the front sit, next to the driver.

"save it, i'm n–"

"the fuck you are" he cut you "your safety is my responsibility, if i say you can't go out without me, then you fucking don't. specially not when there are people after your head" there was no denying he was right, but still, it upset you.

"there's always people after my head, bakugou".

two weeks ago, two men went into your office. they were in charge of some dealing territories, though small, important. most contraband had to pass those places, you controlled those police departments making everything easier to your truck drivers. they were beaten, cover in blood and barely standing.

"our men, all of them... they all..." only one of them could talk, the other being too shocked to even look at you. "kazuhito's men, it was them... they said we had to tell you, they're coming after you" you couldn't show any fear in front of your so called soldiers, and your template remained at ease. a shout was enough to get those men the help they needed, after holding their hands, you promised to go see them once they were checked by doctors. you called bakugou as soon as they left, he was the first who should know and help you decide what to do next.

the kazuhito family had always been rivals, enemies of the worst kind. everyone suspect they were behind your father's assassination, but with no proof, even you knew it would be the biggest mistake to charge against them, despite your personal desires.

"i already told the drivers they had to take rout b for a while, but we can't let them just keep what's our" you explained to katsuki once he arrived. "those drugs have to get in town by us, damnit". it was clear how frustrated you were, those assholes had mess with your and your father's hardwork.

"if we retaliate, a war will unchain. your father tried to avoid that for years"

"and see how he ended up" bakugou didn't know if it was the anger, or you talking. "we will lose everyone's respect if we don't do something, they killed dozens of our people, katsuki".

he was trying hard to stay objective in that situation, but it was near impossible. a war would put you in more danger than ever, your life was at stake, and bakugou wasn't sure if he was willing to risk it. growing up by your side, your father taking him in when his parents died, you were his only family. more than that, he loved you. the only reason he was able to do his job right, was the fear of losing you. your head was already valued in millions, how could he protect you in the middle of a conflict, that would end only with your death or the kazuhito's leader's death? your power was bigger than theirs by little, but they did something that reckless, which meant they thought they had out powered you. had they? or were they just bluffing? had they miscalculated?.

"we're taking action, wether you support me or not" you looked into each other's eyes, you knew him enough to understand his fear, just not the reason behind it. your voice softened "but i'd much rather do it with you by my side".

"you're the boss" he spoke, already regretting it "i'll schedule a meeting so the high charges let everyone else know, i'm staying at your place so we can trace a plan".

and there you were now, being reprimanded by bakugou. he was extremely tired, he decided to stay with you until things were calmer, which could be several months from then. getting up at six a.m, going to sleep past midnight, being always looking for possible threats, it had given him bags under his eyes.

"i'm sorry" you said once you were alone with him, it was only then that you could let your guard down "i'm making this harder for you".

"yeah, you are. but it's my job, after all" that came out wrong, he thought. it wasn't his job, it was his fucking life purpose. he wanted you to live a long, happy life, as hard as it seemed.

"i guess it is" deep down, his response disappointed you.

"hey, look at me" out of nowhere, his body was insanely close to yours, you felt his breath in your face as he lifted your chin with his finger "there's nothing i wouldn't do for you, got that, dumbass?"

for a brief moment, the taste of his lips was all you could think about. i bet they're soft. but as fast as it started, it was over, katsuki pulled away harshly, inventing an excuse to leave. he had flown too close to the sun, so close that it burned his skin.

a few more people went to see you that day, asking for diverse permissions, advice and stuff like that. since it had been slow, compared to other times, you decided to home early. a call to your team, and the car was already outside. bakugou left instructions for your departure, because he had things to do somewhere else, much to his displeasure. you were accompanied by your escorts to the doors of the building, that seemed like a normal office compound. there were waiting two other guards, making a total of six people protecting you. way to go, bakugou.

"how's your wife, ryota?" you asked the driver. of course, not everyone fitted in the same car, so you got into the second one, middle seat, between a built up woman and a big man. you tried to remember everyone's name, but it was difficult.

"she's good, ma'am, sends her regards" he smiled at you over the mirror.

"and the baby? he must be a month old, right?" at the memory of his child, his face lightened "you should take some days off, i bet your wife and son miss you"

"i have a duty with you, m–" a loud impact interrupted him, the front glass had exploded. the car had an abrupt movement back and forward, all you could see was blood, everywhere.

the woman next to you took her gun out, in order to protect you , you thought, completely wrong. before everyone could react to her act, she shot the guard in front of you.  you looked at your side, searching for someone alive, the same bullet that had killed ryota was in the guard's at your right forehead. besides you , the only other person was that woman. if she hadn't glasses on, that stare could've seen throughout your soul. then you remembered, katsuki made you bare with a knife under your sleeve. with a weird move, you felt its sharpness against your skin, it was there, but she read you like a book. before you could even pull it out, another shot stroke followed by a intense pain in you thight. the bitch had shot you. you blamed it on the adrenaline, because nothing hurt. what happened after was a couple of blurry images in your memory.

bakugou had called you more than a hundred times, you, the drivers, the guards, everyone in his fucking team, but no one knew anything. the cameras at your house never showed you arriving, your phone's location was off. he was out of his head, if he didn't hear from you in the next five minutes, someone's going to die. he rushed into his car, following your rout at a dangerous speed. 

both cars were full of bullet holes, and every guard he had hired was dead. there wasn't a place without blood. tears of pure rage came to his eyes, fuck, it was his fault. he started to look for you, but the whole world was spinning around him. where were you? where was your body? were you alive?, this couldn't be happening. he had left you unprotected, alone, and now you could be dead, because of his uselessness. his phone vibrated in his pocket.

"sir, we– we have– the kazuhito's are here" he left as fast as he came. they had touch you, they had taken you away from him, and he wasn't going to let them get away with it, even if he had to go against a whole army, whoever was behind it all was going to pay.

a man in a suit was sitting in the chair of your office, smoking a cigarette, as calm as a rock. katsuki was so close to rip his head of right there, that somebody had to hold him down. his own people updated him, saying that he had gone into the building alone, with no weapons of any kind, not even a cellphone.

"where the fuck is she?" he crashed his hand against the desk.

"ah, mr. bakugou, please take a se–"

"tell me where she is right now if you want to keep your head, fucking bastard" his hand had wondered to the tip of the gun in his belt, menacing to blow up at any second.

"you won't do that, mr., if i don't return to my people in one hour, she'll be so fucked up that not even you will recognize her" a laugh surge grom bakugou, a dark, cold laugh.

"i don't have to kill you, then" one of the man's hand rested in the desk, like asking for katsuki to rip it off his body. as you did, he also carried knifes under his shirt. in less than a second, one of them was buried into the man's hand. he screamed, both in shock and pain, giving your bodyguard a hatred look. "what do you want, shitface?"

"i-it's quite simple, actually" his face was white as paper, and even though he wanted to talk normally, his voice shivered "we want you to take over the y/l/n's business, under our command of course" he let out a sigh, trying to keep his composure and ignoring his bleeding hand "if you– if you agree, she will have to leave japan and never..."

bakugou won't agree to that. not now and not ever. to give away what you and your father built from scratch, and spent decades keeping safe, was like killing your child, and your father's memory. to send you away, alone, where he most likely won't see you again in years, was also off the table. it wasn't funny anymore. he started walking around the man's chair, picking up his sleeves. he checked the clock in the office, he had forty-five minutes with the man, meaning, forty-five minutes to make him talk. he ressourced to every fast interrogation method he knew. the people outside the door weren't surprised when they heard the man's screams, even wondering what had taken so long for the boss to start acting. katsuki was never a patient man. his senses were blocked, he couldn't hear anything but screams and begging, all his eyes could see was pain through all the man's body, his hands felt nothing but warm blood. but for the first time in a while, he wasn't enjoying it. he was doing it out of need, the need to save you. every minute that went by, was a minute were your life risked. he never felt so close to losing his sanity.

"outside the city! she's in one of our safe houses outside the city! i don't know which, please stop!" ten minutes before the timeline he finally gave up. your intelligence had all their safe houses, storages, garages, every location needed. not a second passed when one of yours men delivered a map with all the points marked. there were five in total.

"throw him outside in ten minutes" he shouted, walking to the armory "two teams, six people each, my fucking people, hear me? now, dammit! we're leaving in a minute, if i have to go by my fucking self, i'll do it"

when he was armed to the teeth, almost a dozen of people followed him outside. they were his most trusted men and women, being trained together, he knew they were as skilled as him, and they were all willing to put their life's at stake for you, their boss. in the car, bakugou barked the instructions. he had narrowed it down to two possible locations with all the information he had. if they had to kill every person in those places, then be it. he's going to get you back.

[the-edge-of-great]

this is for @jatpdaily‘s JATP Secret Santa 2020!! my giftee is @agentsofoakenshiield, and i present to you: a modern royalty AU in two parts (bc it kinda got long lol) hope you enjoy!! :)

summary:

Their countries could not have created a worse pair than Julie Molina, princess of Seneca, and Alexander Mercer, prince of Koray. Romantically, of course. Really, they're the best of friends, but there’s just some minor problems: Alex is gay, and Julie’s in love with someone else.

There's an event on Friday, Julie's last before she turns eighteen. Before everything changes—her bond with Alex, her relationship with Luke, her friend group altogether. She and Alex need to figure out a way to change their countries' agreement with their limited power.

With Luke and Reggie, obligated to attend the party by law—and moral support, of course—and Professional Party Crashers Flynn and Willie by their sides, they might just pull it off.

WEDNESDAY

JULIE

A greenhouse sits at the edge of the palace, shrouded in a mess of greenery and blooming wildflowers. It’s not far at all from the castle—actually, they can see the watchtowers from its own peak—but the barrier of trees looming over the forgotten building is a portal into another world, one of flourishing life beyond what they’re taught within the castle walls. The air is softer on the other side. Everything is quieter—she feels she can speak and actually be heard. When the gravel crunching beneath their shoes silences to soft thuds across the grass, a grin breaks free, and she runs.

Her shoes are off in seconds, kicked to the side as quick as she can. She misses the earth beneath her feet, soft blades of grass tickling between her toes. She’s been here enough to know where to step and what to hop over—besides, the glass shards shimmer in the sunlight anyway. Behind her is a yell, then a laugh, then they’re chasing after her, boots stomping in her haste, trying to reach the greenhouse first.

Reggie and Flynn rush past on either side, and once they reunite in front, Flynn leaps onto Reggie’s back. Reggie shouts, stumbling and regaining his balance all in two steps. Flynn leans forward, an arm stretched out, desperately trying to brush the edge of the door to claim victory.

Julie never sees who actually makes it because arms hook around her waist, hugging her close to someone who, quite literally, sweeps her off her feet. She leans into him, head resting on his shoulder as she laughs out loud. He spins her once before putting her down, chuckling in her ear, leaving a trail of kisses across her cheek. Once she’s on her feet, she hugs him. He’s a difficult person to wrap her arms around with the armor and all, but she makes it work—especially because in an hour, she’s going to have every layer stripped away until it’s just him: regular Luke. Her Luke.

The last of their group—the reason they’ve even reunited in the first place—are slow to arrive, valuing their time in every step, every lingering gaze and smile. The corners of Julie’s mouth curl for them: Willie is always his happiest when he’s with Alex. Even more so when they can come out here, away from the world and Alex’s impending reality inching closer each day. He and Julie have agreed: they won’t talk about it unless their friends bring it up first. And even then, maybe not.

Julie takes Luke’s hand in hers and tugs him inside. It’s kind of funny how willingly he follows her, he and Reggie immediately abandoning their jobs for some friends and a building. But they’re leaving Alex with Willie, and that’s possibly the safest place in the world.

The greenhouse doesn’t have a known story, just that it’s theirs and theirs alone. It’s overgrown with thorns they admire from afar and vines curling around the spiral staircase in the center of the room. There are steps missing in places and others threatening to fall away with one wrong move. Luke and Reggie, the literal guards of their group, always watch with bated breath and tense shoulders, swearing quietly when the staircase creaks and groans under their weight. Julie and Flynn think the danger makes it more exciting.

Flynn’s already on it, sitting halfway up with her legs dangling over the side. Reggie’s beneath her, kicking away broken glass as he tries to catch a frog leaping across the floor. Julie brushes dirt off of a counter before hopping on it, and as soon as she’s seated, Luke is there, pulling her into that kiss she’s been craving since they arrived.

“Are you guys going to the dance on Friday?” Flynn asks Reggie, curling a hand around the rail as she leans back to look down at him.

“Probably.” Reggie pauses near the back wall, rocking on his heels, eyeing the brown frog resting innocently on a pile of leaves. “If we’re invited.”

“Why wouldn’t we be invited?” Luke asks, climbing on the table next to Julie. “Seneca’s going.”

Julie chuckles. “Of course we’re going. Everyone loves Seneca.”

He smirks. “Yeah,” he says, already going in for another kiss, “who can blame them?”

“Are you guys talking about the event on Friday?” Alex asks, shutting the door behind Willie. “We’re going.”

Reggie cheers. Luke corrects him quickly, “We’re going to be working, Reg.” He throws a look at Alex. “No fun for us.”

“Don’t look at me like that. I’m not the one who signed up to be palace guards.”

“I don’t remember signing up either?” Reggie says. “I think we just hung out with you so much that they gave us swords eventually.” He lunges for the frog, arms outstretched, hands ready to grab, and then it leaps just out of reach. He catches himself on the wall, muttering a “Damn it” under his breath.

Alex laughs. Luke shakes his head. “That’s not how it happened,” he mumbles, sharing an amused look with Alex.

“Sounds kind of legit for you three,” Julie teases.

“I think it’d sound more believable if they took the swords themselves,” Alex argues.

Julei grins. “Maybe we should send that to the tabloids. Get them talking about something else.”

Alex breathes a laugh, giving her a look as he passes, transferring silent messages that only she could understand. Her smile falters only a little. They don’t talk about it.

“So, back to the dance,” Flynn says, kicking her feet.

“Is, um…” Reggie leans against the staircase, gaze jumping between his friends. “Is something going to happen at this one?”

Alex pauses. Julie frowns. “What do you mean?” she asks.

Flynn’s shoulders slump. “This is your last event before you turn eighteen, Jules.”

Oh right, Eighteen is a big deal in their world. Eighteen means permission granted to thrust her headfirst into the political world of the monarchy. Eighteen means the beginning of preparations for Twenty-One, when she’ll become queen. And, worst of all: Eighteen means marriage.

That Look passes between Alex and Julie again. Their smiles are gone; they have to talk about it.

“I don’t know of anything, but…” Alex wrings his hands. “Maybe.” “This is so unfair,” Flynn complains. “It’s the twenty-first century! Why are arranged marriages still a thing?”

“Because monarchies are still a thing, I guess,” Julie mutters.

Their countries could not have created a worse pair than Julie Molina, princess of Seneca, and Alexander Mercer, prince of Koray. Their relationship is strong—they really, truly care for each other a lot—but there’s just some minor problems: Alex is gay, and Julie’s in love with someone else. They’ve known about the arrangement since they were children of course, and their friends just a few years after, but their predicament has never felt as set in stone as this day and the next, the true Final Countdown.

“I don’t see why the countries have to be bound by marriage,” Luke says. “I mean, this—” He gestures around the group— “what we have right here, is stronger on its own than any arranged commitment between Seneca and Koray could be.”

“That’s what we’ve been trying to convince our parents of,” Julie says. “It’s more official than an agreement from when we were babies, though. It’s a whole peace treaty.”

Willie frowns. “Then make a new peace treaty.”

“We totally would…” Alex agrees. “If either of us had any actual power yet.”

“Can’t you just fake it until you’re crowned, and then change the rules?” Flynn asks.

Alex shakes his head. “We don’t know what effect breaking that kind of agreement would have on our countries.”

“Besides,” Julie adds softly, reaching for Luke’s hand, “faking it feels wrong. I don’t know if I could do it.”

“But hey, we still have a few days until anything happens,” Alex reminds. “We’ll figure something out. For now, can we just enjoy this time together?”

Although the air is stiffer now than before, their afternoon is still well spent in good spirits. They stay out there all day, only returning to the palace when the sun is setting over the horizon. Their stomachs are growling monsters by then. Somewhere along the way to the castle, they get separated. Purposely, and not very far apart—because if Alex’s parents catch him arriving without Luke and Reggie, there will surely be hell to pay—but enough for Luke to pull her around a corner and kiss her in the privacy of bushery and an apple tree.

“I wish you didn’t have to go already,” she whines, raking a hand through his hair.

“Pretty sure they’re not going to send us away without food.” He chuckles. “We’re the guests, remember? Well, Alex is.”

She smacks his chest. “You are too, dummy.”

“Not as important as the prince and princess.” Luke grins, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m kidding. Kind of. I’d much rather be a guard than a royal anyway. The only thing that sucks is we won’t be able to share a dance on Friday.”

Julie frowns. “Wait, but we’ve danced together at other parties?”

“Yeah, but from what I hear, this is going to be much bigger than usual. There are gonna be nobles from other countries, so security has to  be tighter.”

“Don’t you have to stay with Alex, though?”

“We have to have eyes on him, but we aren’t allowed to mingle with the important people unless it’s an emergency.” Julie makes a noise of protest, which makes him laugh and dip his head, kissing her softly again. “Don’t worry, I’ll make damn sure we see each other before the night’s over. Or, maybe even after…”

She chuckles. “You’re really looking for a death wish, huh?”

“You know I’d give my life for you, Julie Molina.”

“That’s so cheesy.”

Luke grins. “Only the best for you, babe.”

Somewhere nearby, they hear a side door creak open. A voice rings through the air. It’s the royal seamstress, Flynn’s mother, “Flynn, where are the others? Lunch has been ready for fifteen minutes.”

“They’re on their way!” Flynn replies. “It’s a nice day; I think they just wanted to take the long way.”

Bless Flynn’s mother; she knows what’s really going on with Julie and Alex—and likely suspects where their group has scattered off to—and she never says a word. Although she’s already regarded highly in the kingdom for her talent in design, when Julie is queen, she’s going to make sure Flynn and her family receive the best treatment possible. Maybe master bedrooms on the top floor of the castle, with balcony views of the countryside.

Before they depart, Luke leaves her with a final passionate kiss. It’s the kind that pins her to the tree truck, hand pressed into her back, fingers in each other’s hair, and when they pull away, they’re breathless, his forehead resting against hers, bodies as close as possible, savoring the touch because it’s going to be a long time before this can happen again.

“Hey,” Luke whispers, pulling away enough to find her eyes. “No matter what happens, I love you, okay?” He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“We’re going to figure it out,” Julie promises. “Alex and I. We’re going to figure something out.”

Luke smiles gently, halfheartedly, like he doesn’t really believe her. That’s fair; she doesn’t know if she believes it, either.

“We’d better get back.”

When he turns to leave, she catches his arm, pulling him back. With a smile—a real one that stretches her cheeks and brightens her eyes—she tells him, “I love you, too.”

Grinning, Luke pulls her along. He curls an arm around her waist, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

When they round the corner of the shrubbery and reunite with their friends in front of the side door, they’re apart. All of them, even Willie and Alex, who are emerging from the other side of the path. They share looks with each other then fall into formation: Alex and Julie lead into the castle, Luke and Reggie follow five steps behind, and Willie and Flynn carry the end. The last two split away from the group as soon as they cross the threshold. The others don’t even look back.

Like diving headfirst into ice water, they’re back in the real world. The greenhouse is miles away.

----

THURSDAY

LUKE

The thick, century old book slamming against a chipped wooden dining table echoes in the empty armory. A cloud of dust explodes from beneath and hits Luke and Reggie square in the face. Reggie sneezes. Luke sputters, waving a hand to clear it away in vain. They should be used to it by now—this isn’t the first time they’ve been given the Book Punishment.

“You’d think General Wilson would be more creative by now,” Reggie says, flipping open the book.

“So, you’d rather be doing four hours of PT instead?” Luke asks dryly. He yawns into his hand. They overslept—again. It doesn’t happen regularly, but enough that they know this Book of Laws well enough to pass a test (which they’ll have to do that evening, and if they fail, they will get four hours of physical training).

“Hell no. I’m just saying, where’s the flavor, huh? He’s been a war general for, like, ever. Why doesn’t he make us…” Reggie waves his hand aimlessly. “Survive in the forest for two days, like that one time before we officially became guards. Remember? We just chilled by the lake and ate those berries.” He sighs. “I miss that sometimes.” “Well, maybe we can go on a camping trip after we figure out what’s gonna happen with Alex and Julie.”

Reggie perks up at the idea; he’s blind to the eye roll Luke adds at the end of his statement.

“Wonder if there’s a chapter in here about changing the rules when you’re not actually in charge,” Luke mutters, chin in his hand as he flips through the pages.

“We could always overthrow the monarchy.”

“Overthrowing the monarchy means overthrowing Alex.”

“No way. He’d be on our side.”

Luke pauses on a page describing something along the lines of rules altered by a third party. “Reggie.”

“I mean, he’d have to take out his parents somehow,” Reggie continues thoughtfully. “Which probably wouldn’t be an issue. It’s Lainey we’d have to worry about.”

“Reggie.” Luke smacks his arm. “Look!” He points to the text, looking over with an eager grin. “Think we just cracked the monarchy, dude.”

While Luke gathers the book in his arms and heads for the door, Reggie calls, “You know Wilson’s gonna kill us if he finds out we skipped out.”

“A military general versus the prince of a whole country.” Luke laughs over his shoulder. “You do the math.”

Reggie shifts his weight from one foot to another, chewing on his lip. Then, he breaks into a jog. “Wait up,” he calls. “You know I’m bad at math!”

~**~**~**~

The issue with Alex’s guards being more like brothers to him—at least according to the king and queen—is that they often act like guests in the castle instead of trained personnel.

Neither knock before barging into the conference room. Luke has tunnel vision, clutching the book tight to his side, with newfound hope in his heart. Alex needs to see what they found; nothing else matters in that moment.

Nothing except… a heated conversation between Alex and his parents that they absolutely just interrupted. Quickly, Luke hides the book behind his back. He and Reggie come to an abrupt halt just inside the doorway, heels pressed together, bodies stiff with nerves. There are rules to be followed when it comes to approaching royals—they know them well, but when it’s just them and Alex, it’s easy to forget the divide.

“You two better have a damn good reason for interrupting us,” the king growls, looking over sharply.

Luke avoids his cold glare—he doesn’t like people beneath him making eye contact. “We—” Luke begins and ends immediately, realizing he doesn’t know what to say without sounding suspicious. Or like he’s planning treason.

“Does it matter?” Alex demands, moving between them. “The conversation was pretty much over anyways, wasn’t it?”

The king takes a dangerous step forward; only Alex shuffles back. Luke glances at Reggie. His fingers twitch at his sides. This is the one thing that truly irks them both about their job: they’ve sworn to protect the prince from any threats, but the king himself? They’re powerless.

“You are still a prince,” the king reminds in a low, careful tone. “You’re not in any position to begin calling shots.”

Alex flinches under the heavy clap on his shoulder as his father exits the room, with the queen following close behind. Nobody moves until the door clicks shut, and they’re engulfed in silence.

“Alex?” Luke calls.

Hesitantly, Alex turns to them. There’s a red tint to his face and a glossy layer over his eyes that goes unmentioned. He runs a hand through his hair, short breaths racking his body.

“I was just, um…” Alex squeezes his eyes shut. “We were talking about the marriage agreement again.”

Luke nods, handing the book over to Reggie. “Hey, why don’t you take a seat?” Fingers curling under Alex’s arm, Luke guides him to an upholstered bench by the window.

“I’m fine,” Alex declares quietly as he sits down.

“Okay.” Luke nods Reggie over. “Then, listen to this: I think we found a loophole around the law. According to this, the Next In Line himself can create or alter a law as long as a member of the royal family and the High Priest bears witness.”

“But it’s a peace treaty, not a law. Seneca’s leader has to have a hand in it as well.”

“Maybe there’s a way for Julie to get around it, too,” Reggie suggests hopefully. “We can figure it out next time we’re together, but dude! We have a chance here!”

Alex pulls at his sleeves. “I don’t know, guys. You know my parents; they won’t be convinced that easily.”

“Doesn’t matter if they’re convinced.” Luke chuckles. “Even they can’t argue with the High Priest.”

“You think the High Priest would go for it?”

Reggie shrugs. “Worth a shot, man.”

Sighing deeply, Alex agrees halfheartedly, “I guess so.”

“Hey, what’s up with you?” Luke asks, nudging his arm. “You okay?”

Their relationship is odd because a guard would never be able to be so personal and informal with a royal. But it’s Luke and Alex; they’ve always been an exception, ever since they were kids when Alex invited him, a commoner he met playing near the front gates, to a sleepover in the cinema room. Ever since, they’ve been inseparable.

“I’m just a little freaked about everything, that’s all. Mom and Dad aren’t helping, either. They’ve been planning this wedding since I was five years old, which is weird.” He sniffs, looking to the side and rubbing a hand across his face. “Before I had a chance to even try liking guys or girls, they’d already made the decision for me.” Luke and Reggie share a concerned look. Alex shakes his head, laughing humorlessly as he rises to his feet. “Gladys wouldn’t approve. You know what she says, ‘There’s no room for emotions in this castle.’”

“Gladys isn’t here,” Reggie reminds softly, but firm.

“Yeah,” Luke agrees. “It’s just us.” They don’t dislike Gladys; for a noble, she’s kinder than most. For an advisor, she’s damn good at her job. One of her best attributes—according to the king, the queen, and General Wilson—is her ability to ‘shut off’ her emotions when needed. Luke doesn’t get it; how can shutting off your emotions really solve anything?

The corner of Alex’s mouth twitches into a half smile that doesn’t last more than five seconds. “Yeah, thanks guys. Um, I’ll think about what you said, but I don’t think I can talk to Julie about it before tomorrow night.”

A door swings open, silent as a mouse, but the soft creaks of the floorboards are enough to alert their ears. General Wilson steps inside; Luke and Reggie exchange nervous glances.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,” General Wilson greets. His eyes drift over Alex’s shoulder for just a moment, but a single look freezes Luke to his core.

Inwardly, he groans. They’re totally spending the rest of the day flirting with death on the training grounds.

“General Wilson,” Alex responds, lifting his chin. “Can I help you?”

“Apologies, I was just looking for those two—” He swallows thickly, like whatever he’s trying to say is difficult— “star pupils. They’re missing important training.”

Alex looks over his shoulder at them; Luke and Reggie give him a toothless, sheepish smile in return. To Wilson, Alex says, “Sorry, I need them right now.”

Luke chews on his lip to keep from smirking. He loves when Alex uses his authority over the general.

“But—“ Wilson takes a breath, hooking his hands behind his back. “With all due respect, Your Majesty, tomorrow night is an important event that these two, among the rest of the guard, need to prepare for.”

“Why?” Alex frowns. “It’s just another social gathering.”

“There will be leaders from countries we’ve not interacted with face to face in years.”

“Any in particular we should be suspicious of?��

“Well no, but—“

“Then I don’t see an urgency in needing them right now.” General Wilson opens and closes his mouth. “Shut the door on your way out,” Alex adds, waving him off.

Giving Luke and Reggie a final, heated glare, he turns and marches out of the room.

Alex waits for the door to shut to sigh loudly. “Thank God,” he says, turning to his friends. “That man is terrifying.”

“He thinks the complete opposite of you,” Luke admits, grinning. “Which makes it even funnier.” Next to him, Reggie gives Alex a high five.

Their laughter is a weight lifted. Luke just hopes it’s still around after tomorrow night.

----

Part Two

[octoberobserver]

HI!😊

Work isn't very stressing on its but I work with strong personalities and sometimes making them agree with you and doing their own things isn't easy. But today is Friday and my afternoon was pretty relaxing and fun.

I hope your week has been good to you too😊

As you certainly noticed, English isn't my first language, so I would have to write the story in my native language and then translate. Sadly, my brain can't deal with smut in my native language (it's weird but I can't do much about it) and so I am blocked, or at least I was when I tried it years ago. Maybe I will try again but for now I am content with sharing ideas and reviewing others'stories😊

Maybe I am a bit too much but originally in the Levi fake dates au I thought to put together Levi and your security guard oc🙈 i am like a Noah, I just want everybody to be part of a couple😂 but I really don't know anything about your oc so maybe someone else would be a better match, maybe some Kelvin's youth's brother?

Yeah, k&k relationship surprises me at every turn bc it could go bad so easily and instead they are always very normal. Even when Kelvin doesn't invite him at the lunch, it is a normal level of shittiness, while Dennis manipulated Mac 24/7.

Thank you for the new snipet! Mmmh, someone is feeling frisky already at breakfast?😏😏😏 yes, those almost transparent shirts did their job a bit too well😂 I like how Kelvin represses every possible not platonic thought automatically, he must have a long story of almost moments that were destroyed.

I also adored that he still gets thrilled when Keefe wears something he bought him and now I have in eyelids Kelvin being all professional and knowledgeable about measurement and cloth and doing it for Keefe in order to order some clothes that fits him perfectly. All of this while Keefe is almost naked, can't do anything bc he is being measured and he can't screw it but also he is naked and is being touched a bit too untimely so he really wants to kiss Kelvin. Or to run away and live as an hermit.

And I am too obsessed with wordle! I play twice every day bc I play in English and on my native language too. Love this kind of little details😍

I have watched Cyrano (the original play is one of my fave) so now I am inspired😂

First idea, Kelvin is the Cyrano of the situation. He found Keefe a possible partner and he is helping him wooing him, it really isn't difficult. Obv he gives some really weird advices (he read his sister's teen magazines and still thinks you need three days to answer a text) and Keefe often is in chaotic situations bc of this but miraculously the partner seems to be overjoyed about all this mess, Keefe makes his life so much interesting. Kelvin can't deal with Keefe spending much less time with him and maybe now his advices are intentionally weird and maybe the dates ideas he shares are the ones he wanted to have with Keefe.

You know how this ends, obv😂

Another idea is this: Keefe is used to write his feelings for Kelvin down in letters he never sends and for extra precaution he never writes his name. Kelvin finds one of his letters and wants to know who is this mysterious lover. Now this is a decide your own adventure: Keefe fakes a boyfriend but then Kelvin is very jealous and obv he could be a better boyfriend bc he never shows up or gives gifts or other things like he want to do for Keefe if he was HIS bf OR Kelvin decides to find this mysterious person and investigates. He keeps asking people at church if they now him but they have assumed that the younger son of Eli is together with his weird friend lime three years ago and don't want to meddle in their own business and/or weird dynamics. No one with a brain would ever try something with Keefe with Kelvin still alive.

Another idea is: k&k fake dates!

That youth pastor is really pestering Kelvin about his lack of romantic prospects, so what is better than fake a relationship with your best friend who already lives with you?

Another smutty but sadder idea: Keefe is used to much to egoist doms, who care only for their pleasure and often harmed him and just straight up used him. So when he and Kelvin begin to have sex, he doesn't make it about himself too and even if he reaches the orgasms it's incidental or when he takes care of himself after the fact and after having cared about Kelvin. At the beginning Kelvin doesn't really notice and maybe he thinks it's normal to not come every time (it's true and he is inexperienced and a bit spoiled too). But after Keefe not accepting to be touched in return and saying he hasn't really done anything to deserve his orgasm, Kelvin begins to doubt in himself then to really question Keefe about what he thinks sex is about.

There is embarrassment, many hurting memories of Keefe's exes and at least a scene where he is tied up so Kelvin can have his wicked way with him while the other almost can't deal with all this attention. Bc delayed orgasms can be fun and Kelvin is very possessive about it but also he loves Keefe and just wants him to have everything.

And totally Kelvin buys Keefe lingerie too!

And jewellery with their initials.

And now questions for you!

What do you find easier to write? What harder?

Fave and hated tropes?

Do you have a fave dynamics for your characters?

A fandom you would love to write something for?

Have a wonderful weekend and ahhhh I am still so excited for your wip! I can already say it will be fire😍😍😍

💫

Hi 💫Anon! Oh yeah, I know what you mean. Hope you’re having a chill weekend. I am making the most of mine before starting back work tomorrow. I’ve been steadily writing the Kelvin x Keefe fic and am at nearly 7000 words now with still a good bit to go 😳🙈 I hope people like it when it’s done haha but either way I’m having fun with it.

Your English is great! 😊 But I can understand what you mean when it comes to writing and writing certain topics. It’s hard enough in general. But if you ever do get the urge to try again. I bet you’ll do great. Your ideas certainly are.

Ooooh that’s such a cool concept! I’ve never had someone really include an OC of mine in their ideas/headcanons before. James very well could be a good match for Levi, maybe with a similar dynamic, having come from a background like Keefe’s? I have another OC popping up in my new fic that I quite like too so he’s also an option 😊

Oh yeah, Kelvin and Keefe are miles better than Mac and Dennis when it comes to their dynamic. I love them but Macdennis are toxic af 😂 K x K, while not perfect, are definitely not at that level and I doubt they ever will be, thankfully. I’m having a blast writing Kelvin’s inner freak out at how hot he finds Keefe tbh, as well as his deeper feelings for him in general. I just want Keefe to know that he is desirable! He is loved!!! (And Kelvin too, of course.)

Haha that idea about poor Keefe in the middle of a fitting, mostly naked and at the whim of Kelvin is a very funny scene. I might just include that in a future fic 😂 Anon, again, YOUR MIND. I am saving all of these prompts ✍️One or two of these concepts will show up in some way in my new fic (I won’t spoil which) and all the others, I’m making note of too.

Ooh fun, questions! 1) What do I find easier to write? - Dialogue. 100%. I love the fast-paced banter-style dialogue between two characters. It’s always the most fun (and because of that easier) thing for me to write. 2) What do I find harder to write? - Description. I used to be okay at it, much better and more, well, descriptive lol but I found as I got older, I realised I had a habit of getting a bit too ‘purple prosey’ with it and have scaled back since. So I struggle with that fine line of ‘I want this to sound pretty’ and ‘it’s too much’ a lot of the time. 3) Favourite tropes - Oh, I have many. Fake/Pretend relationship is very high up there, as is Sharing a Bed, mutual pining, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, friends-to-lovers, fix-it fics, hurt/comfort, marriage of convenience and a tonne of others I can’t think of right now haha. 4) Tropes I dislike - honestly, there aren’t any I can think of immediately that I dislike outright, but there are things that I don’t gravitate towards like fics with major character death (where the character stays dead for good), or certain AUs I don’t vibe with, etc. 5) Favourite dynamics between characters - this is such a cool question. Those who have read my fics from different fandoms will have picked up on this lol. I do love to write playful bickering between my characters. A fast-paced banter with my dialogue. I tend to gravitate towards friends-to-lovers, or idiots-to-lovers as a basis and am a sucker for writing mutual pining too. 6) A fandom I’d love to write for - Ooh that’s a good one! Hmmm. I definitely have some I want to write *more* for, like 9-1-1/Buddie and What We Do In The Shadows/Nandermo but as for one I’ve never written for at all? Maybe Ted Lasso. Or Kingsman. Or Leverage maybe. And probably a load more I just can’t think of right now lol.

What about you - 1) What different fandoms do you like to read fic for? 2) What are your favourite/disliked tropes? 3) Fandoms you haven’t read fic for but want to? 4) Shows/fandoms you want to get into but haven't yet?

Thanks so much again, 💫Anon! Hope you’re having a fantastic weekend too. I’ll be posting another sneak peek of my Kelvin x Keefe fic soon. 😊😊

[reachfolk]

For the writing prompt, let's go with ruin.

request: alexandria silver-blood + "ruins" (elder scrolls writing prompts — OPEN)

summary: Alexandria's teaching methods may not be conventional nor are they always pleasant, but Lucien can't deny their effectiveness.

tags: fluff, lucien flavius, canon-typical violence, alex and lucien are still pretty new as companions so he's still Baby, lexi is an arguably good teacher, not proofread bc it turned out so long lol

warnings: none

word count: 2.3k

ao3 link: [tough love]

author's notes: for those that don't know, lucien is a modded follower who starts as a wimpy little imperial scholar and you train him to get better at combat. this was SO much fun to write, i feel like it really shows some of my fav things about lexi and her dynamic with lucien! thank u so much for the request dearie <3

The door to the old nordic tomb was jammed after what must have been centuries without being opened, but with a heavy shove, Alexandria was able to force them to give. As soon as they swung open, the smell of decay and rot overwhelmed Lucien's senses, and he found himself struggling to hold down that morning's breakfast.

Alexandria, on the other hand, had no such qualms. Instead, she took a deep breath and smiled at the smell. "Ah, I love these old tombs. You can just feel Lady Namira's influence in the air. Makes the eyes water though, doesn't it? Or maybe that's just the dust." She fanned her face, letting her eyes dry out for a moment before readying her sword in one hand and a simple Firebolt spell in the other. "You ready?"

"Uhh," Lucien hesitated. "Do I have a choice?"

"Nope!" With that, she pushed him through the doors, and he nearly toppled over. "You'll be taking the lead this time, alright?"

"What?! Me?!" He sputtered. "Are you sure that's a good idea? No, don't answer that. It isn't a good idea whatsoever."

Alexandria didn't seem to share a single one of his concerns as she placed a hand on his back and pushed him deeper into the old ruins. "It's a chance to practice sneaking and to test out that Turn Undead spell. Two birds with one stone, as they say."

"I only learned that spell last night. Who's to say it'll even work? Don't you think the stakes are a little too high?"

"Of course they are," she said in her usual, all too cheery tone of voice. "You're not going to learn anything by staying firmly in your comfort zone. Besides, don't you trust me to keep you safe?"

It was certainly a good question. In spite of how she presented herself, Alexandria was a difficult person to read. While he often did appreciate her optimistic attitude (it was certainly an improvement over the glum nature of most of Skyrim's citizens), there were more than a few moments where it almost felt like she enjoyed tormenting him. This wouldn't be the first time she pushed him beyond his limits; ever since she started training him, she seemed to make a game of torturing him and justifying it with reasons such as, "You need to learn to take a hit," or "You've got to get out of your own head." And, well... he wanted to trust her methods, but she make it quite difficult.

"If you take any longer to answer, it's going to hurt my feelings, you know."

"N-no, I don't mean to imply anything bad!" Lucien sputtered. "I'm just nervous, is all. You've been a wonderful guard and I don't mean to offend you in any—"

His ramblings were interrupted by her bursting into laughter, and the sound echoed throughout the chamber. He felt a brief panic, but it seems the sound didn't reverberate far enough into the ruins to alarm any draugr. Alexi, it seems, didn't share his worries at all.

"Calm down, will you? I was joking!" She chuckled. "Believe me, no one understands anxiety better than I do. But that doesn't mean I'll allow you to let it control your life."

Lucien had a hard time believing she of all people, in all her confidence and self-assuredness, could relate, but her words were a comfort nonetheless. "Right," he replied, letting her words sink in. He took a deep breath to calm himself, then firmly regretted it as the stench of death filled his lungs.

Alexi chuckled again at him and patted his arm. "You'll get used to it."

"I really don't want to," he said, but readied his spells nonetheless.

*

The pair made their way through the old ruin, crouched low and sticking to the shadows, just as Alexandria taught him. The muffle spell she cast helped them stay quiet and made it easy to make out the sound of draugr footsteps farther into the depths of the tomb.

Lucien stopped in the middle of the hallway they were crouched in and leaned his head around the bend, leading into a larger chasm. Two draugr patrolled the area, moving in circles around the perimeter.

Alexi leaned back on her haunches and whispered, "So, what's the plan, boss?"

It was strange, the way their roles were swapped. "Uhm," Lucien thought back to what Alexandria did the last time they were in this kind of situation. "Wait until they wander to opposite sides of the room, out of each other's sight, and shoot them down one at a time."

"Okay," Alexandria said simply, but the minimal response was enough to send Lucien doubting himself.

"Is that not a good plan?" He asked, unsure.

"Huh? I never said that. I told you, you're the boss here! I'm just following your lead."

"Right," Lucien muttered. "Right. Uh, I just... need to be more sure of myself."

Alexi didn't respond beyond glancing around the corner, watching the draugr.

"Right?" Lucien asked.

This time, she simply chuckled. "Dearie, how are you not realizing the irony? You're still asking for my approval. It's a good plan. Now go ahead before you start getting in your head again."

Unfortunately, his doubts already took root and refused to budge. Even as he drew his bow and had it aimed at the target, he found himself frozen in place.

After the second opening he missed due to his own hesitation, Alexandria leaned over his shoulder and whispered, "Can I give you some advice?"

"Please do."

"Great!"

She grabbed him by the neck not unlike one would grab a housecat, dragged him up from where he was crouched, and tossed him into the open chamber with the two draugr. As he yelped in surprise, the two draugr turned at the sound and drew their weapons.

The rational response was for Lucien to be angry at her for being so cruel, but in the moment, it was all he could do to bash his bow against the draugr that rushed at him with a greatsword. The attack staggered the enemy and interrupted her mid-swing, giving Lucien enough time to switch out his longbow for a sword and spell.

Just as the zombie had regained balance, Lucien took a swing, putting all his might behind it. It wasn't enough to bring her down, but as the sword connected with her shoulder, the two-handed sword she carried fell from her grasp. He used the chance to shoot a Firebolt spell at her, which sent her flying backwards, unmoving.

Before he could celebrate his victory, an arrow whooshed past his face, just barely grazing his skin and taking a few of his hairs with it. It would've sent his heart racing if the poor muscle wasn't already working at full capacity.

He turned his head to the archer, who already had nocked another arrow and shot it in his direction. He just barely managed to dodge by side stepping behind a column. There was no way he could rush at the archer with his sword, and he was clearly outmatched with a bow. Should he just try to pelt it with Firebolts, or—

Suddenly, he remembered the new spell he'd just learned the night before. It was a risk trying it now of all times, but the adrenaline rushing in his veins made it difficult to rationalize it too much. He charged the spell, then ducked out from behind the other side of the column and cast it before the draugr could even release the arrow it had readied.

The second the spell hit, the draugr immediately pulled its arrow back and turned it's back, running in the opposite direction in the signature awkward steps that all draugr take. Now that the threat of being pelted with arrows was gone, Lucien rushed at the creature and grabbed it by the back of its thin, wiry hair. He stabbed his sword through its back with enough force that it jutted out of its chest. When the creature stopped moving, he released his grip on it and let its limp body fall to the ground.

It took him several seconds to catch his breath. When his heart rate finally returned to normal, a high-pitched squeal broke through the calmness and spiked it once again. Thankfully, he realized quickly enough, it was only Alexandria excitedly cheering for him.

"Good job, Lucien!" She applauded, rushing towards him from where she watched. "Oh, I knew you could handle it!"

"I... I did! Didn't I?" It was still hard to believe he could manage in a battle with her support, so to win two-against-one was inconceivable to him.

"Obviously," she laughed, giving him a playful shove. "See what you can do when you stop freaking out? When you don't have time to doubt yourself, your real skill shows."

He couldn't help but join her in the laughter as the reality of his accomplishment dawned on him. "Does this mean I'm now a proper adventurer? I never thought I had it in me!" He puffed out his chest proudly, beaming at his companion.

"I'm well aware of that. That's always been your biggest problem," she said. "Lucien, you've gotten so used to thinking of yourself as some weak little milk-drinker that no matter how much I trained you, you refused to recognize your own progress. I needed to do something to get it through your head."

"Not to imply that I'm not grateful, because I truly am," he replied, "but was throwing me to the draugr really the only thing you could think of?"

She gave a shrug. "It's how I was taught. Well, for me it was sabre cats. And fire. Oh, and also flowers, but that one's less exciting. And plenty of harsh lessons, really. How do you think I got these scars?" To prove her point, she lifted up both arms, showcasing a large array of scars, burns, and calluses that she'd acquired over the years. They moved down throughout her body, displayed for all to see under her Forsworn armor. The injuries had accumulated so much that it was hard to tell one from the other, let alone deduce what had caused them.

Lucien was curious about it since the day they'd met, but it felt rude to ask. But seeing as she brought up the matter herself, and she didn't seem to have any discomfort talking about it, he found himself asking, "What actually happened?"

"Oh, what didn't happen?" She chuckled. Pointing at the rough shape of a bite mark on her right arm, she explained, "I got this one when Auntie Ursula wanted me to get sabre cat teeth because I'd used up her entire supply when making potions. She wanted to teach me a lesson about recognizing alchemy as more than just mixing things together. Respecting the ingredients the land blesses us with, and honoring the Hunt as a crucial part of the life of an alchemist."

She then pointed to the burn marks along her palms and fingers. "I got these when Mother Helle was training me in Destruction magic. A lot of mages hesitate to progress their knowledge of the arcane arts, so she often pushed us to lean into the pain rather than fear it. Learning advanced fire-based spells results in plenty of injuries, but I couldn't have learned them if I didn't stop being scared of getting burned. After getting lit on fire a few times, it stops being so scary. And, more importantly, you learn to control it better."

"What about the flowers?" he asked.

She held up her fingers and wiggled them a bit. They were rough and calloused, and the state of them made him wonder how she could even comfortably hold a weapon. "These were the first scars I ever got. When I first started working as Auntie Bothela's assistant—I think it was shortly after my tenth winter, she made me dethorn every single flower that was in stock at the store until my hands bled. Then she made me use those same flowers to make a health potion to cure the cuts, and then I'd start over. I wasn't so good at it in the beginning, so my skin didn't end up healing very well. But once most of the skin was scarred, it stops hurting, and it helps when working with more advanced recipes."

"That sounds... quite harsh," Lucien observed. It was odd how she described such unpleasant experiences with a bright smile, as though they were treasured memories.

"All my teachers were Reachfolk, and usually followers of Lord Hircine," she explained. "It's part of his teachings—to suffer is to learn and all that. It's not exactly the nicest way to teach, but I always found it... kind, in its own way. They were with me through every step of the way. There was never a moment of my training that I felt alone or lost."

Then, her voice grew softer, a kind of uncertainty he hadn't seen in her before. "I hope I've been that kind of teacher to you. It may not always be easy, but I wouldn't put you in any situation that I don't trust you to handle, even if you may not always trust yourself as much. And, well... I know you're still making up your mind, but I do consider you a friend. I want the best for you."

The confession made Lucien's heart swell, and he wondered how on Nirn he ever doubted her intentions. And, after today, he couldn't doubt her results. "You have been," he said. "I'm glad to have you by my side, friend."

Her eyes lit up at his words, and the sight was reminiscent of that of an excited puppy. "Me too!" she said, her voice back to its cheery tone.

With that, Lucien drew his sword again and gestured to the path leading deeper into the ruins. "So, are you ready to press on?"

She gave a salute and followed his lead, drawing her own sword. "Sure thing, boss!"

[microsuedemouse]

man it has been a MINUTE since I made my own post about anything fandom-related on this website but @suzirya is blogging about The Old Guard and I haven’t seen anyone else talking about it really and I’ve got. some thoughts

I had literally never heard of this movie at all until a few nights ago when we were eating dinner in the living room and my dad pulled it up and said ‘hey I want to watch this’ and played the trailer for my brother and me. We were pretty much like yeah, sure, we all enjoy a good action flick, and aside from my other brother (who was occupied with D&D) it ended up being the whole family watching it. and I enjoyed it WAY more than I’d anticipated, especially for something I’d never heard about.

if you don’t know what I’m talking about: drop what you’re doing and go watch The Old Guard on Netflix. (it’s a Netflix original so yes it will be there.) it’s a very fun and good action film based on a series of graphic novels about a small group of immortals trying to do what’s right. there are many selling points but one of them is that it will be very good for your little gay soul, bc Charlize Theron stars (in a character with no explicitly-stated romances but lots of relationships that will make you Feel Things) and two of the other main characters are two men who met during the Crusades and are just amazingly in love with each other. And not in a vague way that the straights can interpret as Powerful Friendship. They are explicitly in love with each other and so devoted and ugh.

ANYWAY. putting the rest of my chattering under a cut bc spoilers and also I’m a wordy piece of shit

1 - early in this movie I was thinking about how glad I am that Charlize Theron has stepped into this role of like... cool female action star, but also, her characters are never super sexed up. almost any female characters I can think of in action movies, if they’re part of the action rather than victims/bystanders, are always made sexy. even when they’re Strong sexy, they’re still... a lot sometimes? I was thinking especially of some Angelina Jolie stuff, Scarlett Johanssen, etc. there are probably lots of exceptions to this that I just don’t know but still - we’ve had Theron in several roles like this recently, and appearance-wise she’s treated with the same respect as her male counterparts, which is so fucking cool and also such a fucking relief. we all love beautiful ladies, obviously, but it’s so SO good to see our female heroes just doing their jobs, without us ever being made aware of their sexuality.

and as the movie went on this was hitting me more and more, and I was also thinking it about... everyone? like. the other female lead, played by KiKi Layne, was arguably more feminine than Theron but not any more sexualised. even once she’s out of her army fatigues she’s dressed with practicality in mind, and again, we never have her female-ness pointed out to us. and I was so about every bit of that. both objectively and as a person whose relationship to female-ness and femininity is kind of weird, it’s such a good thing to see leading women whose gender and appearances and bodies aren’t being focussed on that way.

and as a sidebar to that, while I wouldn’t describe any of the prominent male characters as unattractive by any means, none of them were like... Marvel-actor hot. and I just, idk, especially in action/superhero movies, that’s refreshing to me. a lot of them looked like Regular Dudes in a way that I find very appealing.

2 - can we TALK about Joe and Nicky. holy shit. my brother and I kept leaning over to each other to be like ‘if anything happens to either of them I’ll riot.’ I MEAN.

we got a genuine, explicit, on-screen established romance between these men. it was not implied, it was not just how the actors played it in the hopes that people would catch on - it was right there. they hold each other to sleep, they kiss each other with such love, they talk to other characters about how much they adore each other. they met during the Crusades. they’ve been in love for centuries! and they’re so sweet, so devoted, so adoring! and they never have any arguments or tension to further the plot (one of my personal most-hated plot devices in any story with an established relationship). they just spend this movie loving each other, protecting each other and their weird little family, doing anything they can for each other. they’re taken prisoner and spend their time awake joking and making each other smile. and the one singular bit of casual homophobia they encounter on-screen is met with a declaration of love so heartfelt and intense that the guy who made the shitty comment literally doesn’t know what to say - which is a brief but extremely good scene in the movie, imo.

oh, also worth noting: this romance is biracial and interfaith (inasmuch as either of them may be men of faith after being alive for centuries). just to add to how good this is to see on-screen. all of this on top of them being IMMORTAL AND UNKILLABLE. NO GAYS BURIED HERE

2.5 - can I talk for a second about how goddamn much I love seeing non-hetero romance in genre fiction!!! I know it’s getting easier to find, but still. genre fiction is very much my domain and I love seeing queer romance there, especially when it’s simply an accepted fact and the characters’ queerness isn’t central to the story. narratives about queerness are good and important and serve a function but most of them aren’t really my thing, personally. a story that’s about all kinds of other things but also has queer characters there, being themselves, being in love, is so 1000% my shit.

3 - also? Charlize Theron’s character, Andy?? fascinating from a queer perspective. she doesn’t have any explicitly-stated romance with anyone, but her relationships with other characters are so compelling and so interesting. The backstory about her and another immortal, Quynh, very very distinctly gives you the impression that they were women in love. everything about Andy’s guilt and bitterness over not having been able to find/save Quynh feels so much like there was a romance there. it could have been platonic or familial - they were together, without anyone else, for centuries at least, and therefore obviously developed a very deep love - but the way Andy talks about Quynh it feels so much like there was something left unsaid, or unresolved.

also, her scene with the clerk in the pharmacy. oh my god. this woman clearly recognises that whatever is going on with Andy, something is wrong, and she offers her help, no questions asked. she takes her into the back room and patches up her wound. this scene has such an inherent intimacy because of the close quarters and the privacy and the act taking place, but... there’s also this really interesting connection happening between them, where they recognise something in one another but don’t state it. (personally, I couldn’t help wondering if the clerk was a domestic abuse survivor, maybe? but there are so many ways you could interpret her character from her behaviour and dialogue in that scene, and I’d love to see other people’s takes.)

and then on the other hand you have her relationship with Booker, who’s been with her the longest out of any of the living immortals. they’re incredible. their relationship is so, so interesting and well-depicted! they have such chemistry, that you can easily read as romantic or platonic. they’ve been together for so many hundreds of years and they work together, trust each other, with such a deep understanding and love and respect. and it never quite tips over into the romance you kind of think it will, which imo only makes it that much more compelling - there are so many directions you could take that dynamic.

4 - and then on the topic of Booker: I am SO into the way his betrayal was handled.

he did, undeniably, betray the others. there’s no argument on that fact. his motivations were understandable (and heartbreaking), even to Andy, though certainly not an excuse. so yes, they were furious with him. reasonably so! but... that didn’t actually break their relationships with him. they didn’t leave him behind in the lab, even if in some ways they might have wanted to. and in the ensuing battle, they were still able to work together and trust each other as they always have. the damage done to their larger relationship was put aside to be dealt with after all of this, as it should be. and even when they did deal with it, what they agreed on was just a century of exile from their group. given the lives they’re all living, that seems like such a mild sentence.

but to me, it makes so much sense. again, these people have lived for centuries, and there are so few of them. they need each other. the bonds they’ve formed over all this time together - the trust, the love, the sense of family - would not only be vital to both their survival and their sanity, but also incredibly difficult to truly break. what he did would seem unforgivable from an outside perspective, and even after that century passed I’m certain he’d have to earn back their trust and respect, but it makes absolute sense that they’d be willing to take him back one day.

god. GOD. I’m sure there’s more I could talk about but this is what I can think of right now and I’ve been typing for like forty minutes probably so I’m done for now but.

god.

this movie and its characters GOT ME, guys. I’m really in it. ugh UGH

[gamerwoo]

Junhui: Oh, Positive (Part One)

Characters: Junhui x female reader

Genre/warnings: vampire/vampire hunter au, kinda angst but not really that angsty tbh, kinda crack thanks to flirty and sassy vampire!jun, lots n lots of cringey flirting

Word count: 2,163

Summary: As a vampire hunter, your job is pretty self-explanatory. But sometimes, the enemy has to become your ally, and that’s exactly what happens when you're ordered to track down Jun. To stop the coven of vampires that’re bringing up the death toll in Tokyo, you have to work with the thing you’re trained to kill -- assuming the two of you don’t kill each other in the process.

a/n: there will be more parts but i’m not sure how many which is why there isn’t a masterlist yet. this is just a lil idea i’ve had for a while sooooo it’s not really top priority so updates will probably be slow. but idk i wanted it out there (and yes i wrote this bc i love vampire!jun from that web series)

Next

“Don’t kill him, just capture him. Bring him back here when you do.”

Those stupid instructions kept repeating in your head. What was the point of capturing a vampire and not killing it? All vampires were bad. They killed humans. That’s why you existed. You were trained to kill them on sight, but now you were being told to show some sort of mercy. What sort of bullshit was that? 

But your boss gave you orders so you would follow them even if you didn’t agree with them.

It had taken a few days to figure out where to find this Jun. There were apparently a few places he hung around, so you were checking those places. It was well into 2am and most of the streets were empty. However, most vampires were known to linger in the alleyways of more crowded places, hoping to lure humans away to feed on them. So you stuck to the shadows, watching and listening carefully for any sign of--

‘Vampire.’

You froze as soon as you sensed it, knowing exactly where it was. You didn’t make it obvious you knew, but you stayed in your spot, slowly moving your head to seem like you were surveying the area. In reality, you knew it was perched on the fire escape above you, ready to pounce down on you.

But you were ready for that.

Just as it leaped down, you rolled out of the way, swiftly and smoothly pulling your knife out of its sheath. You were on your feet and running at the vampire quick enough to catch it off guard. Since you knew where it was, you had time to figure out your plan. So you tackled it to the ground, straddling it and holding your knife to its throat.

And lo and behold, it was just the vampire you were looking for. Jun looked up at you with a smirk, his eyes blood red as he eyed you up and down, licking his lips hungrily.

“Wasn’t expecting my dinner to be so quick on its feet,” he chuckled. “Shouldn’t have been so careless, I guess.”

“Shut up,” you stated boredly as you used your free hand to get the handcuffs from your belt.

“So what now?” he asked, ignoring your order. “Are you gonna kill me or whatever?”

“As much as I would like to,” you sighed as you began cuffing his hands together, “I have to take you somewhere.”

“Ooh, an adventure,” he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows as you managed to get off of him and tug him to his feet. “Just one question, sweetheart--”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Do you really expect some handcuffs to stop me?”

You rolled your eyes before looking at him, “Do you not know anything about vampire hunters?”

He shrugged, “Never been caught by one.”

“Well, those will keep you from running away. Now let’s go.”

You turned to walk away, but, of course, Jun had other ideas.

“Thanks but uh, I think going home with you after the first date is too early for me,” he said, miming tipping his hat to you. “Sorry, but this won’t work out. Please don’t contact me again. Bye!”

You knew vampires were quick. You knew Jun could easily get away and you wouldn’t catch him. You’d have to follow your instincts to find him again, but you knew he’d definitely be hiding pretty well for the rest of the night and probably for a few weeks at minimum. But you also knew how the handcuffs worked while Jun had no idea.

He was only a few feet from you when he shouted out in pain and had dropped to his knees. He was hissing as he stared at his wrists that had felt the painful shock, looking between them like he was trying to figure out a difficult math problem.

“Those’ll shock you if you’re a certain distance away from me,” you explained, “and it’s so painful that you can’t get away. So I suggest you keep up or you’re going to be in a lot of pain.”

“Look, I’m into pain, but this is too much,” Jun huffed with a small pout as you dragged him up off his knees and shoved him to walk in the direction you wanted him to. “Do I at least get a safe word?”

“Shut up,” you groaned.

“That’s a really shitty safe word.”

-

You wondered why you’d spent days trying to track down Jun when he was so obnoxious and annoying. The entire way back to headquarters was awful, containing him trying to flirt with you or make some sort of comment that walked the line between flirting and being a snarky asshole. Honestly, that seemed to be all he was capable of.

“I really wish I wasn’t told to not kill you,” you sighed halfway through.

“Well isn’t that unfortunate,” was all he replied to you with before he carried on with whatever he was saying before -- you weren’t paying attention, you’d learned very quickly to tune him out.

Once you were back at headquarters, you thought maybe Jun would shut up a little bit. You thought maybe being in a place full of top of the line vampire hunters would intimidate him into silence, but he seemed to not be fazed by anything at all. He had something to say to pretty much every person you walked past, and it got to a point where you were pretty positive every hunter in there wanted to kill him. The guy was just so annoying.

You finally reached the boss’s office. You knocked on the door three times as Jun leaned down and whispered, “Is this where I die? Because I’d like the heads up when it finally happens, y’know?”

You knew Jun definitely wouldn’t just take his death lying down. Hell, he probably had something up his sleeve to get out if he had to, he probably wanted to just see where this was going -- and you would be right about that because he figured he had nothing better to do. 

“I wish,” you mumbled as you heard your boss tell you to enter.

Opening the door and walking in, you went straight to the boss’s desk. Jun, however, decided to take his sweet ass time and look around the large room, his head tilting back as he looked all the way up at the ceiling and rolled his head around to look at the other side of the room. But being too far from you caused his cuffs to shock him, and he let out a surprised yelp.

“Are you kidding me?!” he demanded in annoyance.

You just silently snickered at him.

“I’m impressed you found him,” your boss, Jicheol noted as he stood up from his desk and observed Jun.

Hearing that familiar voice, Jun snapped his head down to look at the man behind the desk. His face spread into a smirk as he approached the desk, standing beside you.

“Ji, long time, no see,” he said casually as if they were old friends. “Been a while since you were trying to slaughter me. How’s the wife?”

“Dead,” Jicheol deadpanned.

Jun opened his mouth but nothing came out as he blinked, “Okay, not the reply I was expecting...”

“So what did I have to drag this pain in the ass here for?” you sighed, wanting to get this whole thing done and over with.

Jicheol grabbed his computer monitor with both hands and turned the screen to face you. It was an article about the death toll in Japan going up, and the worst of it seeming to stem from Tokyo. Nobody was able to figure out what it was, but the three of you knew exactly what was causing it.

“As you’re aware, _____, a powerful coven of vampires is ravaging Tokyo and spreading to the rest of Japan,” Jicheol began, looking between you and Jun. “Jun here is, unfortunately, one of the most infamous vampires in Korea for how hard he is to catch, and for how strong he is.”

“Thanks, chief,” Jun grinned.

You already hated where this was going.

“That’s why I want you to go with him to Tokyo--”

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Jun quickly interrupted. “Let’s go back to when you were just complimenting me, yeah? You ruined it with the whole ‘go to another country with this party pooper’ thing.”

Jicheol sighed, folding his hands together in front of him, “_____ is the strongest vampire hunter we have, but all the best in Japan have tried to catch this coven and have come up dead. If we want to stop them, we need the help of a strong vampire, too.”

“And why would I help vampire hunters?” Jun quizzed, raising an eyebrow. “You’ll just kill me when it’s over.”

“Maybe not...” Jicheol shrugged.

“What do you mean ‘maybe not’?” you demanded. 

“He could be useful to us if he chooses to cooperate with us for this. And if he chooses to stay with us, of course he’ll be spared his life, and we’ll provide protection, housing, and means of food.”

“We’re going to protect a vampire?” you clarified. “Jicheol--”

“Yeah, that seems counterproductive for a group of vampire hunters,” Jun agreed.

You rolled your eyes, grumbling, “Can you not interrupt me?”

“Can you get to your point faster then?” he countered.

Instead of speaking on your bickering, Jicheol sighed and continued, “It would be helpful to keep a few vampires on our side to weed out the difficult ones. Look, we could sit here all night and discuss rhymes and reasons but the faster I get the two of you to Tokyo, the faster we can fix this issue.”

“Do I get a negotiation?” Jun asked.

You snorted, glancing down at his handcuffed wrists before looking back at him, “I really don’t think you’re in a position for negotiating, bud.”

But instead, Jicheol replied with, “What kind of negotiation?”

Jun flashed a snarky grin your way before taking a step forward and clearing his throat, “I want protection for my brothers, too. That’s first and foremost.”

“How many?” Jicheol questioned, raising his eyebrows to show he was interested.

“Four.”

“Would they be willing to help?”

“...I can talk to them.”

Jicheol nodded, “Continue.”

“I want cool clothes like sweet cheeks over here,” Jun said, nodding his head toward you, “and I want a really nice umbrella so I can go outside during the day. And I want--”

“We can offer your friends protection,” Jicheol stated.

Jun nodded, stepping back, “Cool, thank you, sir.”

You looked incredulously between the two men, “So this is seriously happening?!”

“We’ll prepare the flight for tomorrow night,” Jicheol explained, essentially ignoring your comment, “so that gives Jun time to talk with his friends. _____, I would like if you accompanied him to make sure he doesn’t go anywhere.”

You wanted to tell Jicheol he was out of his goddamn mind if he thought sending you alone into five vampires was a reasonable idea, but the look on your face said it all. He simply said he knew you could handle it before carrying on.

“We’ll handle packing and such. We’ll equip you with everything you’ll need and everything that’ll help you. Please report back here tomorrow at midnight.”

“What do I do with him until tomorrow night?” you wondered.

“Take him with you,” Jicheol replied as if the answer was obvious.

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, “You-- Y-you want me to babysit a handcuffed vampire all day?”

Jicheol cocked his head, “Do you think you can’t handle it?”

“Of course I can!” you insisted immediately.

“Then what’s the issue, _____?”

You really wanted to snap at Jicheol and tell him to go fuck himself, but instead you just grumbled and turned sharply on your heels to leave. Jun giggled at your angry expression and began to follow after you.

“Goodbye, Jicheol!” he sang over his shoulder. “See ya later!”

“You two have fun,” Jicheol smirked playfully.

Jun sighed as he fell in step beside you, seeming more amused than ever now, “Oh, I’m positive we will. Isn’t that right, _____?”

You frowned, refusing to look at him, “Eat a dick.”

As the door closed behind you and the two of you walked down the hallway, Jun tisked, “I would watch your attitude around me or I just might end up eating you, sunshine.”

“I’d like to see you try, bloodsucker,” you shot back, glaring at him now. “I can kill you just as easy.”

He chuckled shaking his head as his voice dropped lower, “That’s not the kind of eating I meant.”

You cursed yourself for blushing -- and Jun definitely noticed because he was giggling about it -- and cursed Jicheol for getting you into this mess. But the sooner everything was over with, the sooner you didn’t have to deal with Junhui.

Tomorrow night really could not come faster.

[cvrnelivs]

— ( harry styles, cismale, he/him ) &. * — meet ( cornelius ‘ oliver ’ edwards ) ! ( he ) is ( twenty five ) years old and has lived in st. helens for ( two ) years . when they’re not helping the town prepare for halloween , they work as a ( baker ) . around here, they’re known to be ( idealistic ) & ( intuitive ) yet ( unpredictable ) & ( destructive ) and apparently their favorite fall activity is ( visiting the farmer’s market ) . safe to say it really wouldn’t be halloweentown without them !

hiya! i am kt &+ underneath the read more is a LOT of info about my bb, cornelius/oliver. ** insert clown emoji but make ‘em yee-haw ** if you’d like to plot you can reach me on here or at space cowboy#8536 on discord !! <33 v excited to interact with y’all and your bbs !!

( DISCLAIMER : THIS IS LONG - WOW !!! just felt a lot of muse !!! apologies !!  ) 

𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖎𝖈𝖘

name: cornelius oliver edwards.

nicknames: ollie, ol, lee !! literally whatever - “hey, you” dkjfgn

gender: cismale. pronouns: he, him.

age: twenty-five.

birthday: june 27th.

zodiac: cancer !!

orientation: pansexual / panromantic.

occupation: baker // aspiring filmmaker.

languages spoken: english & french.

𝖎𝖓𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖗𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

- PINTEREST - featuring his wardrobe, his home, his aesthetic, some character inspo and olive, his german shepard pup !!

- SPOTIFY PLAYLIST - what oliver is currently listening to !!

personality type: INFJ-T / THE ADVOCATE

moral alignment: chaotic good

style-wise: oliver is v stylish, but isn’t overly flashy by any means. he’s intuitive in the sense of what works and what doesn’t. willing to explore the latest wardrobe craze, but also just likes what he likes and likely won’t venture out unless pressed by another to do so. post coming soon for his wardrobe !!! they say that the cancer man’s clothing is selected to reflect “ sophistication over flash “ but kdgjn i’ll let ya’ll be the judge of that. he’s v much harry inspired clothing wardrobe, but also tones it down with some casual looks, especially with being in the bakery and getting his hands dirty in creative aspects !!

𝖇𝖆𝖈𝖐𝖌𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖉

   oliver was born in kent, england. he’s the youngest in his family of three, having an older brother and sister w/ two loving parents. when he was nine, his family packed up and moved to southern california, where they resided until oliver left for college on the east coast - his family trading off between living back in england and on the west coast throughout the year. upon moving to a new country at a young age, oliver truly found himself via escaping into various books and movies. often attempting to write his own and would force encourage his siblings to act his skits/plays out for his parents enjoyment. growing up, oliver also enjoyed playing all types of sports ( his parents kind of threw him in hoping he’d make friends ), but when it came down to it, athletic abilities-wise, there truly wasn’t anything that he wasn’t ‘ good ‘ at, and that’s simply because he’s always been such a competitive individual / as well as a perfectionist. that competitive/perfectionist energy caused him to go home and practice a skill or trick for hours in order to be able to come back the next day and whoop everyone’s asses. throughout highschool ; oliver was a v dedicated student. although he’s a bit reckless and loved to goof off, he was always acing classes and applying himself. he genuinely cares for others, you could’ve seen his ass volunteering at a soup kitchen with his mom on sundays and what not, as well as take part in various clubs and sports ! just SOFT and sportythings.

   post-high school, oliver attended NYU double majoring in film & television and dramatic writing. despite his extensive and well received portfolio, oliver has always been a perfectionist and overcritical of his work, unwilling to share his projects with anyone until he deems them to be ~ perfect ~ himself. after graduating, he spent a year traveling, trying to find a bit of inspiration around him and taking up odd jobs to get some $$ of his own, dog walking, attempting his best at being a handy man, etc !! he moved back home to socal, and eventually made his way up to st.helen’s after he was sent a job posting for the bakery in town !! although he knows he doesn’t want to pursue a career in baking forever, he’s enjoying his time while trying to find a bit more muse for his future film&writing career.

   overall, oliver can come off as a bit reserved, and distant whether that be a result of his untrusting nature of others, or simply unfamiliarity. it takes a bit of time before he feels comfortable to share his true opinion / commentary / only doing so when he feels secure to do so. he’s not necessarily unfriendly, just a bit distant / lost in his thoughts. which varies, as with most ppl ofc, upon person to person and his level of comfortability among them. despite his often lack of conversation, he abhors an uncomfortable silence to settle and will fill it with nonsense to simply avoid the feeling altogether. so, if you ever want to catch him rambling, just making him uncomfortable dkjfngdf. he definitely approaches most things with a bit of ‘ tough love ‘ . he doesn’t mind getting into a quarrel or two if he knows its worth the outcome he’s envisioned. oliver will tell others when they are fucking up, and if they are throwing a punch as a result - catch him leaning into it, which explains his bout of reckless antics. he can come off as a know it all, when it comes to advice giving, but more so because he thinks he’s really good at analyzing others and situations they are in, not necessarily because he’s lived through them himself, he’s just rather intuitive and able to empathize quite easily with others despite his verbal admittance of it. when it comes down to this binches reckless bits, he just feels so intensely that he ends up numbing himself in the aftermath of it all ( especially bc he’s definitely not sharing those feelings with the people around him ), therefore he’s willing to put himself into harms way in order to get a bit of that - happiness / pain, it doesn’t matter to him as long as he no longer feels overwhelmed by numbness. so, if ya see him with some scrapes and stitches ~ mind ya business. but he’ll likely try to drag somebody else into it, and make it seem like it was their idea. but if he is truly comfortable with somebody, he walks a fine line of won’t stop talking, especially if it’s an interest of his, and comfortable silence.

𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖙𝖞 & 𝖍𝖆𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖘

he is a CANCER, therefore in this essay i will..... kidding but here’s some fun cancer info i saw that applies to my bb !! at first he appears to be wistful, sarcastic ( maybe a lil crabby ) , shy, distant and mysterious. this personality remains if he isn’t completely comfortable around somebody. but overall, that’s just his facade, his ‘smokescreen’ of sorts to scare off the world from his outwards persona. underneath that layer ( makes me think of shrek metaphor with onions // don’t mind me ), BUT he’s gentle, kind and affectionate ( if you manage to make it to that level * bell dings * ) !!! overall, oliver is a sensitive soul, a bit emotional although he’d rather d*e than show that to others. likely will internalize anything that can hurt his feelings / a low blow and will do something chaotic as a result later on bc of it. very polite, and a little worldly, he is truly the epitome of old-school gentlemanly manners. chivalry coming as a second nature to him !!

that was getting ramble-y, so continuing HERE. but when it comes to romance, as per the cancer man, the concept of love is a mystery, one that oliver is trying to attain. however, his shyness and innate distrust of others make it difficult for him to allow himself to fall in love. his guard is always up when it comes to his emotions, and it’ll take a bit of prodding before he’s willing to speak up on what’s desired from him. he’s v picky when it comes to finding the “ partner of his dreams “ - but he’s def willing to throw himself into the romance of the situation, i.e. buying flowers, riding white horses, and slaying metaphorical dragons. the traditional side means that he will shower his partner with thoughtful gifts, wine and dine them in the best restaurants, and try to grant their every wish. he will take the garbage out, fix that wobbly shelf, navigate on road trips, and kill more so trap and release bugs for his partner, and most important of all he will do it all without being asked. his loyalty and keen attention to the needs and wants of his potential partner. so basically, more so willing to showcase through actions than speak on it. it’s the little things, right ??!?!?! he def cherishes not just the act of being in a relationship, but what it means to become one with another person in mind, body, and soul.

prides himself on being able to make a mean cup of coffee, likely the worst person to watch a movie with bc he knows exactly how it’s going to end after only watching five minutes of it, he has a godawful sense of direction, will walk in circles for fifteen minutes before even raising a question about it/noticing ( but he refuses to acknowledge it. )

his house, car, workspace, junk drawer, closet….you name it - it’s organized, practically sparkling. often times arranged by color, and / or style. nothing is ever out of place, and if it is - there’s trouble brewing. but, more than anything, if he’s visiting somebody’s place and it’s messy, he will spend a solid thirty minutes picking everything up before doing whatever it is that was intended.

likes : reading, flowers, handwritten notes/letters, deep cleaning, baking, curating soundtracks for his film projects, watching the history channel and true crime docs and playing / watching hockey !!

dislikes : artichoke, clutter, sandals ( fkjgh ), unrealistic plotlines in movies &+ burnt coffee.

habits : smoking cigarettes - although he’s been meaning to quit. likely has a severe caffeine addiction, although he’s now normalized having six cups of coffee throughout his day. he’s an early riser, no matter how little the amount of sleep he’s received, he’s always the first to rise - for his early morning runs !!

strengths: creative, insightful, inspiring, convincing, determined and passionate, decisive, altruistic, intuitive !!

weaknesses: sensitive, extremely private, perfectionist, low-key always needs to have a cause / purpose, can burn out easily !! 

overall : oliver truly strives to be kind, and genuinely wants for everyone to get along. treat people with kindness and the like. he has the best of intentions, but often times that can get a bit muddled with the way he goes about things due to his bit of chaotic energy / as well as his often points of getting lost in his thoughts. he won’t realize he’s been quiet for the last three hours unless it’s mentioned to him. he will do anything to lighten a dark mood, and will sacrifice / throw himself under the bus if its needed. however, he also is the type to cause the dark mood depending on the day. wahoo! his more reckless antics increase when he’s feeling a bit emotional !! but he’ll likely try and convince somebody to propose the idea so it’s not on him. 

𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖔𝖒 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘

in an attempt to throw himself into the town’s traditions and what not, after moving to st. helen’s oliver decided it was upon himself to put on a very spooo0ooky haunted house! so, catch him converting his home into a haunted house for the month of october !!! nothing cheesy either !! it’s more a psychological scare dkjgn with some gore elements !! EnTeR iF yOu DaRe !!!

he bounced around playing sports growing up, but favored ice hockey and field lacrosse out of them all.

HE WANTS TO JOIN A BOOKCLUB PLEASE !!!!!!!! or at least have some casual moments of silence with another reading. plz and tysm.

he is a vegetarian ! he has been since his freshman year of high school and has no plans on eating seafood/meat ever again.

he loves fancy wine ~ he’s cultured. visits seb’s winery v often !!!

he can play the drums !!

he collects vintage matchbooks and the stickers off of various fruits ( he puts them in a little notebook - can be found on his bookshelf ).

saves handwritten notes and letters from pals.

he loves to garden !!!! he has a specified rose shearing hat.

to make things a bit simple, he has all of harry’s tattoos !!  might add more along the way !! stay tuned, folks !!

𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖓𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘

honestly, i am so up for anything !!! please accept this ramble of ideas thrown below.  if you have any other ideas, lmk !!!! <3333 :’-)

( 2 / 2 ) - BFFZ : the z for an added emphasis dkfjgnd. somebody who likely has a key to oliver’s house, they can enjoy one anothers company as well as the bouts of comfortable silence. you know how best friends are but kdjfngd still !! whether they are likeminded or polar opposites that just flow ~~ down for anything !! even a trio of sorts ?!

( 0 / ?? ) - MUSE(S) : somebody that he often strikes inspo from for his short films and what not !! or has starred/he plans to have them star in his future compilations of sorts !! can be simply from their own ideals, their look / ~vibe~ dkfjgn // whatever !!

( 1 / 1 ) - RIDE OR DIE / CHAOTIC COMPANION : it would be wrong to say one is the more likely the bad influence over the other, although oliver may just be. these two find themselves bounding into, well hell, ( i guess??? ) together. playing on one anothers impulsiveness and if one ends up in the back of a police car, the other is handcuffed to them. and yet despite the length of their potential injuries, they find themselves thinking of something crazier to subject them to the next time around.

( 1 / 1 ) - GUARDIAN ANGEL / GOOD INFLUENCE : with ollie being a bit chaotic in nature, he needs somebody that is likely going to steer him clear from all the ideas that’ll bring him to the brink of disaster. he’s impulsive and in that desperate attempt to feel again, he’s very likely to bring a bit of mayhem upon himself. so while they may be worrying and attempting to talk his ideas down, he’s trying to get them to go along with his plan. it may be rare that he actually takes their advice, but when he does it seems to be for the best.

( 0 / 1 ) - PARTY FRIEND : these two know how to have a good time together. despite the amount of alcohol they are throwing back and the shenanigans they find themselves in as a result, this is a time where they also find themselves confiding in one another. if you look at their camera rolls, it’s likely they have tons of embarrassing and unflattering videos and pics of one another, in between their sob-worthy confessionals and venting/rants. these two trust one another, and although they love getting wreckT together, they find themselves discussing very raw and personal details. likely the only person oliver confides in, simply bc he’s completely plastered.

( 1 / 1 ) - SIBLING-LIKE RELATIONSHIP : these two have a love/hate relationship, very sibling like filled with pranks, competition, teasing and playful banter. however, when it comes down to it they have so much love and respect for one another. they know that no matter what happens they will always have one anothers back and be supportive of the other. truly a pure content filled relationship.

okay quick mention, ENEMY PLOTS ?!?!?!?!?!? i would live for one. i can’t imagine oliver being hardcore nasty, but i’d like to see whatever version comes out for this. so let’s get it djfngjakdfg maybe they just hold different viewpoints on the world and what not and clash, anything really !!! v open !!

( 1 / 1 ) - MENTOR - oliver needs a bit of structured or unstructured guidance, all depending on what their deemed mentor is wanting to impart on him, a bit of wisdom or slight chaos. kdjfgn he’ll take anything !! life advice in any and all aspects. maybe they come into the bakery, or maybe they help him with his garden. who knows, i certainly don’t know how they met, but we’ll figure it out ?!?!

RANDOM LITTLE IDEAS : maybe they’ve heard of one another in town, but haven’t quite met yet! or maybe they see each other around all the time, but have yet to introduce themselves to one another but low-key maybe in some online forum for the town together ?! who knows some fun things kdjnfg i AM OPEN !

ooh maybe a slowburn of sorts ?! something spicy to wreck ollie’s and my life with.  dkfjgn we can base this off of chemistry !!! :’-) 

[bts-story]

i liked the taehyung drabble (yn proposing)!!! could you make a an alternative drabble on what if fem reader was the one caught off guard of taehyung proposing to her? like she wasnt expecting anything bc they fought the night before or theyre both probably busy on the kids or their careers? :) (it doesnt have to be on the same settings as the prev drabble)

The silence is oppressing.

It really is, and nothing you can do or say about it will change anything. You know without even trying. Taehyung has been silent for the most part of the night, avoiding your gaze and finding a sudden interest in anything but what you were talking about. He’s fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and it’s weird because, he haven’t done this since he was a teenager. And that was a long time ago, already.

Indeed, you both have your own teenagers, back at home. And the day of their birth seems like a lifetime ago, like all your young years disappeared in a trail of smoke. You can remember as clear as spring water the day Taehyung asked you out, the way he kept stuttering over his tongue — he didn’t make sense, at the time. It was hard to decipher the words escaping his mouth, however, he managed, after a few failed tries, to ask the dreadful question.

So many things happened since then. So many good things, other a little less entertaining and of course, difficult times always comes at the worst point in life. But you found a way through, between love and care, it was always Taehyung and you, you and Taehyung.

But now, something doesn’t feel quite right.

It’s been happening since the beginning of the year — something didn’t quite catch up to the both of you. Something is missing, and no matter how long you ponder over the question, it’s too hard to put a finger on it. Like the missing piece of a puzzle can’t be found and the game is condemned to spend the rest of eternity with a hole gap in its center.

“I’m just — stressed over work, don’t worry about it,” Taehyung had said one day, when you took courage in your own hands and asked him if something was wrong. But Taehyung shrugged his shoulders, avoiding your gaze at all costs and leaving the kitchen in the blink of an eye. “We’re meeting our daughter’s boyfriend, of course I’m stressed, don’t worry about it,” he confessed another day, just at the end of winter. And it didn’t quite make sense, if there was one person to be stressed about this whole situation, it should be your daughter. “The car broke down, I’ll handle it, don’t worry about it,” was one other thing he said when you asked him about the frown on his face. But Taehyung shrugged his shoulders and complied to call the nearest garage instantly.

But no matter how long he said it, you can’t help but still worry about it. Because that’s the only thing left for you, and it’s never good to be left alone with one’s own thoughts. And you have a house, wonderful kids and a career you wouldn’t change for anything in the world, what is this thing missing to Taehyung?

So now, right now, you just follow him, going wherever he is. Your feet stomps harshly on the ground and too lost in your thoughts, you can’t even notice where he’s taking you. But then, you bump into him, at some point, because he stopped. And when he turns around, he has this strange grin at the corner of his mouth that you can’t find a reason to.

But then, you bring your hands around your own arms, unpleased by the cold, wet air. It’s only then you recognize the docks of the Han River and for a moment, you even ponder this is the exact opposite of where you both live.

The question dies on your lips as you look at Taehyung, because then, he holds you close and circles you with his big embrace. Then, he whispers slowly, “You remember this?” And you don’t see what he’s referring to, but it doesn’t seem to bother him all that much, instead he chuckles and pulling you away to look down into your eyes, he adds, “This is where we kissed for the first time.”

It is, actually. It’s weird not to notice, but still, with his hand pulling your hair behind your ear and falling to cup at your jaw, he lets his lips reach your own and the moment you kiss, it’s like you can finally breathe again. He kisses you every day, each morning and each night and all throughout the day unbothered by the kids’ snarky, disgusted comments. But now, now it’s warm and nice and comfortable.

But then, Taehyung adores this frown again and you can’t help but frown yourself too, at the sight. “What have you frowning for the past few months?”

Taehyung chuckles again, and then, “I’m sorry,” he says with a genuine sad spark in his eyes, but tightening his grip around, he continues, “I haven’t really been a good partner, this last few months. I just — I’ve been thinking about something.” This is it, probably. The thing you feared more than anything in the world, the moment the love of your life would break your heart. And even after all these years, you can’t oblige someone to feel the things you desire, “We’ve been together twenty years, yeah? And we have amazing kids, and a great house and greats jobs that we love. But I have something missing.”

Yes, something missing. That missing piece of the puzzle.

“And maybe,” he takes your hands, and without so much blinking, he finally says, “maybe what I miss is to be able to call you my wife.”

So, he falls, down there, on one knee, and out of his pockets, he reaches for a velvet red box. And then, you really can’t worry about it.

I tried to go a little different way than what you exactly requested! But I hope you liked it nonetheless xx

- Nageoire 

[unpeumacabre]

my kingdom for a horse: chapter 7

the year is 1601, a messenger has been sent to dongnae, and he has not returned. lord cho-hak-ju advises the joseon king to send crown prince lee chang to dongnae to investigate, but the plot he unravels there threatens the safety of the entire kingdom, and the stability of the dynasty.

a rewriting of kingdom, and lee chang finds love.

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Lee Chang/Yeong-shin

Read on AO3 (bc tumblr might mess up the formatting + more extensive author’s notes on the story)

Count: 8k

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“I recognise you,” came a voice from behind him, and he turned abruptly, his hand flying immediately to the knife hidden in his sleeve.

A man stood before him, clad in purple silk, rich and superfluous. An official’s hat shaded his face, but it did little to hide the gleeful smirk twisting his aristocratic mouth, and the fineness of his handsome features which somehow held both arrogance and cunning.

He could feel the tip of a blade pressing into the small of his back. Even if he were to draw his knife, it would not be in time to counter a fatal blow struck to his spine. The knowledge froze him in place.

“Three years ago,” the man said again, his voice sinuous and smooth. “You were one of the tiger-hunters, were you not? One of Ahn Hyeon’s fighting dogs. I am surprised to see you still alive, after the furore of the last battle.”

“What do you want,” he said, and his voice was rusty from disuse. It had been days since he had last spoken.

The stranger laughed, then, and the movement jabbed the tip of the blade further into his back. It was almost enough to draw blood, for his clothes were thin and weathered, and they offered little protection.

“What I want?” the man mused. “Ah, but it would not do to speak so openly. Shall we find somewhere quieter, with fewer prying eyes and ears?”

“I have no choice, do I?” he said bitterly.

“Oh, but of course you do,” the stranger taunted. “You can choose not to speak with me, of course – it is completely and utterly your choice. But then…” Here the man drew out the words, savouring the hold he had over his audience. “ Then you would not learn of the interesting news I have received in recent days. News of a little boy with a missing nose, who was picked up two days ago by the magistrate of Gongju for petty theft. Would you so easily miss this chance for news of your brother, Park Yeong-shin?”

Yeong-shin found he had no choice. He led the way to a quiet alcove he has often retreated to whenever he ate his meals, for it was unknown to many and easy to guard.

When they reached the alcove, the stranger sighed, and returned his sword to its sheath. It was a mark of his confidence in his abilities – and his blatant arrogance – that he failed to keep his weapon trained on Yeong-shin. It was a mistake many had made, and paid for, in the past.

It was only the knowledge the man held over his head, that stayed Yeong-shin’s own weapon.

“Now, where to start?” the man said slowly, pretending to stroke his short beard. “I have searched long and hard for you, as one of the last remaining chakho, and so you will excuse me if I seem a little – overexcited, at having finally found my man.”

“Tell me of the boy,” Yeong-shin said roughly. His nails dug so deep into his palm they drew blood.

“Yes, the boy,” the man murmured, that cold grin back on his face. “Of unknown birth, of unknown age, of unknown name – his only distinguishing characteristic being the lack of a nose. He is known to have made a living begging on the streets of Gongju and its surrounding townships – and petty thievery, as we now know. An offence punishable by death, for he was caught stealing a jade hairpin from no less that the wife of the magistrate herself. I seem to recall,” and now the man dropped his voice and stepped closer to Yeong-shin, “that you had a brother, did you not? Three years ago, during the war. A fine young boy he was – it was a terrible tragedy when the plague took his parents, and his nose. Such a shame.”

“Spare me your false pity,” Yeong-shin growled. “My brother died long ago.”

“But his body was never found, was it not?” the man said. There is a palpable silence.

“What do you want from me,” Yeong-shin said at last. “If it is money, I have none.”

“I do not need what paltry coin you have,” the stranger said dismissively. “I merely need your skills. There is a man who will start out to Dongnae in three days. You are to make sure he dies.”

“What man?” Yeong-shin asked.

“The Crown Prince, Lee Chang,” the man replied, and Yeong-shin felt his blood turn to ice.

“He will be guarded by many capable men. Surely you cannot expect me to be able to overcome them when they outnumber me – no matter my skills,” Yeong-shin said furiously. “It is impossible.”

“Trust me when I say that it will not be difficult to kill the prince,” the man said softly. “Circumstances will arise in which he will be left vulnerable – or he will die. Your job is to make sure he does die. Leave no one else alive.”

“What circumstances?”

“You will find out soon enough,” was the infuriating answer. “The prince will be travelling from Hanyang to Dongnae along the Namhan and Nakdong Rivers. Find him before he reaches Dongnae, and make sure he does not live.”

“Why would I risk my life to complete this mission when the boy may not even be my brother?” Yeong-shin said flatly.

“He may not be your brother, but he may be,” the man said, with another vulgar smile. “Are you willing to take that chance?”

He made a sudden movement, and pulled a musket out of his clothes. The gun was a terribly familiar weight in Yeong-shin’s hands as he caught it.

It was as if he had known that Yeong-shin would be unable to refuse.

Yeong-shin stared down at the barrel of the gun. He remembered Yeong-ryu’s face, and Yeong-ryu’s smile. His fingers tightened around the wood.

“Trust me, you’ll need that gun,” were the man’s parting words to him. “Remember, before Dongnae, Lee Chang must die.”

***

“Before Dongnae, Lee Chang must die,” ends Beom-il, and the smile that snakes across his face is triumphant.

Mu-yeong utters a roar of fury, and instantly he is at Yeong-shin’s side, his blade a hairsbreadth away from Yeong-shin’s throat. The sword trembles in his hand from the strength of his anger.

“Is – is what he says true?” Mu-yeong shouts, and it is a marvel that, even now, Mu-yeong – good, kind, strong Mu-yeong, who despite his wariness and cynicism has always treasured his brothers-in-arms – even now, Mu-yeong is giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Lee Chang feels the phantom touch of cold fingers creeping up his arm. He does not know what to feel.

He looks at Yeong-shin. Really looks at him, for what must be the first time, and there are things he sees, that he had not before noticed. How his eyes are shadowed with desperation, and how he carries the weight of death upon his shoulders – not the death of nameless, faceless soldiers and beasts, as Lee Chang had once thought, but possibly the death of a loved one. The death of someone who had mattered to him. The weight of loss. Lee Chang does not know how he had not seen it before.

If Yeong-shin were to betray them, he thinks, first Lee Chang would kill Beom-il. Yes, there would be enough time for him to reach Beom-il and slit his throat, with Yeong-shin kept at bay by Mu-yeong. Enough time for him to hurl Beom-il’s body at the monster-which-once-was-his-father. And then… and then he would…

Something chokes his throat at the thought of killing Yeong-shin, and he knows that Mu-yeong will have to be the one to deliver the killing blow.

“Is it true,” he says, at last, echoing Mu-yeong’s words. At the sound of his voice, Yeong-shin’s head jerks, and he meets Lee Chang’s gaze with his shuttered, hooded eyes – so familiar, and yet so foreign at the same time. The room is silent, and even Beom-il does not move, his eyes darting gleefully between the two of them.

Lee Chang searches the look in his eyes, and for the first time, he doubts his trust in Yeong-shin.

Then Beom-il decides to break the silence.

“Kill him,” he hisses, thrusting himself forward, uncaring of the blood drawn from the sword at his throat as he leans his weight towards Yeong-shin. “Remember your brother! I have hidden him away, and without me, it will be impossible to find him.”

Yeong-shin is silent, ignoring Beom-il’s words, and holding his gaze with Lee Chang.

“Remember, this man’s father killed your family – with a useless war,” Beom-il continues, pressing forward more, the spittle flying into Yeong-shin’s face, and a mad gleam alight in his eyes. “Your family need not have died, but they did, and all for what? For the pride of a monarch who cares not for his subjects. Will you let this same man’s son live when it is your people who have paid the price?!”

“He will not be the same king,” Yeong-shin says, and his voice is so quiet that, at first, Lee Chang thinks he has misheard.

“What?” Beom-il says, in disbelief. His expression mirrors that of everyone else’s in the room.

“He is not his father,” Yeong-shin says again, very softly, and tears his gaze from Lee Chang’s. Now he stares into Beom-il’s eyes, and the look in his own eyes is a familiar one.

“This man, I would serve with my life,” are his final words, and with a quick flick of his wrist, he tears open a gaping wound at Beom-il’s throat.

A terrible gurgling sound emits from Beom-il’s mouth, and his hands fly to the open gash, which now spills blood like a fountain. The redness of his blood stains the floor a deep, dark brown, and he collapses to the floor as his knees give way from the pain. He looks curiously diminished, a foul loathsome worm crawling on the ground, where he belongs.

“You – what - ” Mu-yeong splutters, having lost the power of speech in his shock. “But Beom-il - ”

“He was not my master, and he never was,” Yeong-shin answers quietly. His eyes are cast downwards, and the arm which had dealt the fatal blow hangs limply by his side.

Lee Chang lifts his hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, and he finds that he is shaking. He clenches his fingers into a fist to stop the movement.

“What shall we do with him?” Yeong-shin asks, turning to Lee Chang. Something unfathomable passes across his face, lightning quick, as he sees Lee Chang. Lee Chang realises dimly that he must make quite the picture, staring at his one hand lifted and his fingernails digging into his palm.

It takes him a minute to recover his composure sufficiently to answer.

“Throw him to the monster,” he finally replies, and he lifts his eyes to meet Yeong-shin’s steady gaze. “The blow is a fatal one, and he will soon die even with medical help. He is of no use to us anymore. And,” he savours the words, “it would please me if his death were to involve as much suffering and agony as possible.”

“And what shall we do with His Majesty?” Mu-yeong asks, blinking rapidly, and looking agitatedly back and forth between Yeong-shin and Lee Chang. “What can we do?”

“I will kill him myself,” Lee Chang says, and the words surprise even him.

Survive, his father had said, but now Lee Chang understands the hidden layer to those words. Survive, at all costs, with no qualms. His father is dead, now, and nothing will bring him back. He must be killed for the safety of his companions, and for the safety of the people.

“But not now,” he amends. “We must have proof of the Haewon Cho clan’s misdeeds regarding these monsters – and no proof will be stronger than the king himself. We must find a way to restrain him, and keep him in my quarters until tomorrow, when we may present him to the officials. There is no time to waste, for the queen may already have given birth.”

Yeong-shin nods, and volunteers to look for rope with which to bind the former king. Lee Chang walks up to Beom-il, who is gasping and cursing with pain – with what remains of his vocal cords – and rolling around on the ground, clutching in vain at his throat as if to stem the flow of blood. Already his face is pale with blood loss, and his lips are blue, but still he tries desperately to crawl towards the doorway to make his escape.

Lee Chang supposes he can admire his drive to live, if anything. Lesser men would have given into death already by this time. But his unwilling admiration does not erase his hatred for the man – how can it?

Lee Chang steps close to Beom-il’s face, but does not touch him. He does not want to dirty his boots.

“I have seen things you cannot even imagine,” he whispers, and Beom-il turns enraged eyes upon him, his once-handsome face now a paltry semblance of its former self, distorted as it is by his hatred and agony.

“I have taken more lives than you can even count,” he continues. “Lives which were first taken by you and your father, lives wasted and spent as mindless creatures bent on human flesh. The Haewon Cho clan wishes to ascend to the throne? Ha!” He barks out a single peal of laughter, then abruptly sobers. He leans down, closer to Beom-il’s face, and the man cannot move, not when he is struggling on the last embers of his strength.

“I carry within me the blood of the House of Yi,” he whispers, “and I will not let you fell us at our roots.”

With that, he straightens, and with a mighty kick, propels Beom-il towards the monster-that-was-king. The creature falls upon the fresh blood with frightful gusto, and the sounds of bones breaking, teeth gnashing and Beom-il’s agonising screams causes all of them to turn away in disgust.

They maintain silence for a while, until Beom-il’s death rattles fade away, and they are left only with the sounds of the monster feasting on the bodies. Yeong-shin grimaces and looks at Mu-yeong. While the latter’s face plainly reads his unwillingness to ally himself with a man who had supposedly been working behind their backs for the enemy, he accedes to Yeong-shin’s stare with an explosive sigh.

They approach the monster with blades drawn and, in Yeong-shin’s case, ropes at the ready. Lee Chang steps backwards and checks the doors, just to make sure that their battle has not attracted any unwanted attention from the palace guards – which it has not. He nods his approval to them, and they begin the arduous process of tying the king down and restraining him.

It is not without a few quiet scuffles and a few near misses, but at last, the monster-that-was-king is restrained with a cloth bag over its head and his limbs tied firmly with the rope. It struggles furiously, and they have to put another bag over its head as it begins to chew through the rough hemp of the first. Thankfully, Yeong-shin’s knots hold, and the monster does not escape its bindings, despite its inhuman strength.

Lee Chang finds his feet leading him to the side of the monster. Almost unconsciously, his knees buckle, and he falls to a kneeling position before the monster-that-once-was-his-father.

“Father,” he whispers, and he looks with pity at the blood-spattered robes of the king. He remembers, now, how his father had told him that the state of his garb was to always be neat and proper, as befitted the heir to the throne. Lee Chang does not remember a single instant in which his father had had a single hair out of place, or a mis-chosen piece of attire clothing his body. His father had always been regal, and graceful, and stern.

It is a disservice, he thinks angrily, that his father is reduced to the figure he makes now. It is a disservice, and a grave insult, and he will make them pay.

Beside the monster lies the maid who had been thrown callously to feed it. Her eyes lie open, staring and stark in their gaze of terror, and her face, which might once have been pretty, is barely recognisable, devoid of flesh as her lower jaw is.

Lee Chang reaches over, and passes his hand over her eyes, so that she may be at peace.

As he stands, he turns to Yeong-shin, who is standing behind him and watching his every movement. Even as their eyes lock, Yeong-shin makes no movement to look away.

“How do I know I can trust you,” Lee Chang asks, his voice rough, and although he had not meant it to be so, the words come out with a jagged edge.

Yeong-shin’s throat works as he swallows, the only outwardly sign of his agitation, for otherwise, his face is calm, and his body is still.

“Because you’re alive,” he says at last. “If I had wanted to kill you, you would be dead by now. How many times could I have put a knife or a bullet in your back?”

“You said you would serve me with your life,” Lee Chang says steadily.

“Yes,” Yeong-shin answers, and the word is infused with such intensity that Lee Chang feels himself shudder. He hesitates.

“Your Highness - ” Mu-yeong says despairingly from behind him, as if he already knows Lee Chang’s decision. As if he had already guessed, from the moment Lee Chang had first spoken.

“I said I trusted you with my life,” Lee Chang says decisively, and for the first time, he touches Yeong-shin. He lifts his arm and grasps tightly onto Yeong-shin’s shoulder, and he does not miss how the gesture makes Yeong-shin’s body jerk violently. A dull, ugly flush spreads across his neck, barely visible if it were not for their close proximity, and Lee Chang finds that he likes the idea that he is the only one to see it. The only one to see Yeong-shin flustered so.

“My answer has not changed,” Lee Chang whispers. “I still trust you with my life.”

Yeong-shin does not answer, but for the first time, his gaze is clear as he meets Lee Chang’s eyes.

***

It is the next morning that things fall to pieces.

They had brought the monster to Lee Chang’s private quarters, somehow managing to sneak it past the negligent guards on duty, and hid it in a cupboard by the fire. The heat kept it docile, and the shade gave it shelter behind which it could slumber. Seo-bi treats their wounds with a silence that is more telling that any sharp words could be, and they discuss their plans quietly.

The king must be revealed to the people as a monster made by the Haewon Cho clan, Lee Chang had said unfalteringly. We must do so tomorrow, with haste – hopefully, before the queen gives birth.

It is an uncommonly-long labour, Mu-yeong had said quietly. I do not know what she is plotting, but it cannot be good.

We have no choice, Lee Chang had decided. We cannot control what she does, only what we do. We must reveal the king tomorrow morning.

But in the morning, Lee Chang wakes not to the crowing of the cockerels, but to Mu-yeong bursting into his quarters with tears streaming down his face. Lee Chang knows the urgency of his visit from the very fact that he had dared to intrude into Lee Chang’s bedroom without prior notice, for it is the first time that he has taken so rude a liberty.

“My wife, my wife - ” Mu-yeong blubbers, panting and heaving, as if he had just run many miles. “She is gone! GONE!!”

“Mu-yeong,” Lee Chang says sternly. “Be calm! Tell me what has happened.”

The man attempts to take a few deep breaths to recover his strength, but it is not long before great heaving sobs take over his body again and send him into a shuddering fit. Yeong-shin bursts into the room, his musket drawn, already fully clothed. Seo-bi peers in cautiously from behind him, and sighs in relief when she sees that there is no danger. Mu-yeong is still crying, so distraught that he cannot speak.

Lee Chang backhands him without hesitation. The blow is hard, but with some small measure of leniency, and it propels Mu-yeong backwards. The force of the blow makes him stumble, and he has to throw out his hand to steady himself against the wall.

“Pull yourself together, Mu-yeong!” Lee Chang roars. “What has happened to your wife?”

The blow has sobered Mu-yeong, although tears still leak silently from the corners of his eyes. Yeong-shin and Seo-bi enter the room proper, and shut the door behind them.

“Last night – I went to Naesonjae – I had a message that my wife was in the midst of labour,” he blabbers. “That she had been since the morning, and that it was a difficult birth – a dangerous one – and I was needed. I rode to her home to find her, but she was gone when I reached her. Not dead, but missing. And then,” he pauses for breath, “and then, her father told me that she has been taken to the Queen’s palace in Naesonjae.”

“The Queen?” Lee Chang says slowly. The pieces began to click together in his mind.

“She was one of many,” Mu-yeong cries. “Her father told me that there have been many husband-less, parent-less women taken to the Queen’s palace in the last month, all with child. She was the only one taken who still had a family. She is alone, and she is scared, and I am not there by her side – Your Highness, I - ”

“Naesonjae,” Seo-bi says suddenly, and there is a growing light in her eyes. “I remember Naesonjae.”

“How?” Lee Chang asks.

“It was… weeks ago,” she says slowly. “I only remember the incident because it was so odd… Master, I mean Physician Lee, asked me to obtain sappanwood from our supplier for reasons he could not tell me. Although we use it frequently, the quantity he asked for was unusually large, and so I had some difficulty obtaining it. When he passed it to one of the delivery boys, I overheard that it must be delivered to Naesonjae and only into the hands of the queen’s head lady-in-waiting, and so I wondered… I wondered why the queen would need such a large quantity of sappanwood.”

“Sappanwood?” Lee Chang presses. “What ailments is it meant to heal?”

“Among others, it is used to remove blood clots after a miscarriage or birth, or to alleviate symptoms related to improper or lack of postpartum care,” Seo-bi answers, and she lifts troubled eyes to meet Lee Chang’s gaze. “It cannot be fed to pregnant women.”

“She is not pregnant, then,” Lee Chang says, and he feels his heart thump faster in his chest. A growing sense of foreboding makes him grip the edge of his table to steady himself. “But how? I saw here just yesterday, and the day before, and she was still as round as ever – rounder, if it were possible! It is impossible that she is without child.”

“If we had more time,” Seo-bi says, “We could have found a way to let me check her medical signs, to see if she really is with child - ”

“But we have no time!” Mu-yeong finishes her sentence, his entire body beginning to tremble violently again as the terrible truth begins to sink into all of them. “MY WIFE IS IN DANGER!” he roars, and leaps to his feet.

Lee Chang follows his movement, and so do the others. “To Naesonjae, then,” he commands, “and quickly!”

***

“What is Your Highness doing here?”

The Head of the Royal Commandery Min Chi-rok can barely contain his shock as he is met by Lee Chang and his companions at the gate of Naesonjae. It is equally surprising to Lee Chang, for the man has never been an inch below unflappable, and to see him so discombobulated is a sight indeed. But these are trivial matters compared to the matter at hand.

“Your Highness!” Commander Min exclaims. “You – you are a wanted man now! What are you doing here in Naesonjae?!”

“Wanted?” Lee Chang says in disbelief. “For what crime?”

“For the murder of Lord Cho and his son Beom-il,” Commander Min answers soberly. “The Queen herself has put a bounty on your head.”

He puts his hand to his sword, although the movement is reluctant, and he does not draw the weapon. Perhaps it is the crazed look in Mu-yeong’s eye, perhaps it is whatever semblance of loyalty he still bears to Lee Chang, perhaps it is his own sense of justice that stays his hand, but no matter the reason, still he makes no move to arrest Lee Chang, and for that, Lee Chang knows he will be a valuable ally.

“I did kill Cho Beom-il,” Lee Chang answers fiercely, “but only in self-defence. And, I swear to you – I did not touch a single hair on Cho Hak-ju’s head. It must be one of the Queen’s plots to denounce and dethrone me.”

Commander Min nods and retracts his hand, some of the relief passing lightning-quick across his face before he schools his expression back to its normal, blank mask. “The Haewon Cho clan and their plots have previously been subtle, but it seems that they have decided that now is the time to make more overt gestures,” he says sternly, “especially now that the new Crown Prince has been born.”

“He has been born?” Lee Chang asks, feeling his breath stutter to a halt. That must mean that Mu-yeong’s wife –

Mu-yeong comes to the same conclusion as he does, at the exact same time, and with a thunderous cry of rage, he barrels past Commander Min and his gathered men, and charges into the palace.

“Your Highness!” Commander Min shouts. “Your guard - ”

“There is something terrible afoot here,” Lee Chang cuts in, and passes a quick glance over his assembled men, before returning his eyes to the commander. “Something you have apparently caught wind of, yourself. We do not have any substantial proof, but we believe the Queen has been capturing and killing young pregnant women from Naesonjae if they fail to deliver her a son – who she planned to use as her own heir.”

From the way Commander Min’s face darkens, it is evident that he had guessed at only some parts of Lee Chang’s theory. Whatever had set him on this scent, however, must have strongly correlated with Lee Chang’s words, because he does not question the accusations and instead turns to his men, standing at high alert behind him.

“Search the Queen’s palace,” he orders. “Leave no corner untouched, and let no one escape.”

The men salute, and spread out to begin their search. Lee Chang and Yeong-shin follow closely behind them.

The Queen’s maids and ladies-in-waiting flood out from the palace rooms, screaming and crying and holding their skirts aloft. One of them darts out from a room, clothes askew, and accompanied by a eunuch with his shirt half-off. Lee Chang casts them a look of disgust, before they are swiftly apprehended by the commander’s men and brought to the main courtyard.

All of a sudden, there is a sharp, piercing scream from a room nearby, a scream that had sounded as if it had come from the last desperate breaths of a woman in peril. Lee Chang exchanges a quick glance with Yeong-shin, and the man nods. They sprint to the source of the scream.

In the room they find Mu-yeong, bleeding from a fresh wound in his shoulder, but with his sword very satisfactorily buried in the abdomen of a man with dark clothing and a piece of fabric obscuring his features. Mu-yeong’s wife lies in the corner of the room, too limp to move, racking sobs leaking from her mouth and making her entire body shudder with the strength of her emotion. There is a bloody trail leaking out from between her legs.

Lee Chang grips Mu-yeong by the shoulder. His guard’s eyes are glassy with fear and shock, as he turns.

“Your wife needs you,” Lee Chang whispers, and it takes a moment, but finally, the fog drops from Mu-yeong’s eyes.

He falls to the ground next to his wife and cradles her in his arms, rocking her back and forth as he whispers sweet nothings into her ear. Slowly, under his care, she comes back to herself, and her cries become softer, more kitten-like, less violent.

“We must get her to Seo-bi,” Yeong-shin says quietly. “She is bleeding to death.”

Lee Chang nods. “I will bring them both to the entrance of the palace,” he says. “Leave the assassin – he is dead.”

When they return to the entrance, Seo-bi is waiting there, somehow having procured medical supplies, which lie neatly on a blanket laid on the ground next to her. Her eyes widen as she sees Mu-yeong’s wife, and she hurries over to lay her on the ground.

Assured that both Mu-yeong and his wife are in capable hands, Lee Chang turns his attention back to the crowd of the Queen’s servants, who have all been rounded up and corralled in the front courtyard of the Queen’s palace by Commander Min’s men. They are all unarmed, eunuchs and maids and ladies-in-waiting who have never before wielded a weapon, and it shows. Both men and women grovel for their lives before him.

Except for one of them, who holds herself high with an almost-regal posture. Her silver hair and robes make her out as the head lady-in-waiting. This, then, Lee Chang thinks, is the woman who knows the most, and also the woman who will say the least – at least, without the threat of torture.

Lee Chang is tired of violence. If he can, he will avoid the shedding of more blood. It is enough that they have all suffered so.

“Silence!” he commands, and his voice rings out throughout the courtyard. Instantly, all of the captured people fall to their knees – if they weren’t already on the ground – and quiet descends over the group. Lee Chang hears the echo of his own voice, and its power surprises even him.

“We have come here,” he says, quieter this time, but no less fierce, “because your mistress the Queen is guilty of treason. She is guilty of plotting against the throne of Joseon for her own ends, guilty of murdering her own father, and most importantly – guilty of slaughtering thousands of innocent peasants across our land who have done nothing to deserve the gruesome death they have met.”

He stalks the rows of people, scanning them, looking for the weak link. There is no time to lose, and he must strike soon, if not now.

“I know many of you here are innocent,” he continues, and this time his voice is easier, more patient, almost benevolent. There is no artificiality in his gentleness, however, for every word he says, he believes in. “Many of you do not know that your mistress is capable of such crimes.”

“But some of you,” he says, and he stops next to a girl who is quivering and shrinking into herself to avoid proximity to him, “Some of you – you know what the Queen is capable of. Have known all along. But of course, you did not mean to help her in her crimes. You could not have done anything else.”

He looks down at the girl, whose hands are now grasped together in a tight fist, her nails drawing blood from her palm. He feels his heart clench painfully at the sight.

“If you confess,” he says, now very softly and kindly, “you will not be blamed. You will not be held accountable for her crimes. You will be free to go.”

“Ah Ra!” comes a shriek from the front, and Lee Chang’s head whips up to see the head lady-in-waiting, her eyes lit with a fearsome light, and her gaze trained on the girl at his feet. “Remember who your mistress is! Remember who you serve!”

“YOUR TRUE MASTER STANDS BEFORE YOU!” thunders Lee Chang. “WILL YOU SERVE A TREASONOUS QUEEN, OR WILL YOU SERVE A MAN WHO WILL INHERIT THE THRONE? It is your choice,” and he turns to face the girl again, who is now sobbing openly, her face buried in her hands. “I know you are not guilty. But if you do not confess your mistress’ crimes, more blood will be shed by her hand, and the river water will run foul with corpses.

“Please,” he says, and his voice breaks on the last word.

A beat, and then the girl’s voice comes, scratchy and rasping from her tears.

“Her Majesty was taking women from the village,” she whispers, keeping her eyes resolutely downwards. There is another ferocious screech from the head lady-in-waiting, the sound of a scuffle as she attempts to throw herself towards the girl but is quickly restrained by one of the men. Lee Chang does not turn his head to look, for he gives his sole attention to the girl at his feet.

“Young women who were with child but without family or a husband,” she mumbles. “They have been giving birth these past few weeks. But as soon as they delivered, they were killed. For their children were all daughters. It was only today…” she stumbles, and seems to find it difficult to continue, but Lee Chang waits patiently for her to find her tongue again.

“Today,” she murmurs, “today there was a son. And so Her Majesty took the son, and left the mother to die.” A great hiccoughing sob racks her body, and she begins to shake again. “I do not know why she wants the baby,” she cries. “Does she not have her own child? I swear, that is all I know! Please have mercy, Your Highness!”

“You have done the right thing,” Lee Chang says, and he grants her a smile when she lifts her head to gaze at him in shock. “I meant what I said. You are innocent of crime, and you are free to go. But,” and now he raises his voice and his head to look around at the other occupants of the yard – and now his voice is stern and full of barely-restrained fury – “anyone in this courtyard who is guilty of taking the lives of those women – or who consciously aided the Queen in the taking of those lives – you will be subject to investigation and the appropriate punishment.”

He looks at Commander Min, and the man answers with a nod. His men spring into action and being rounding up the occupants of the courtyard and taking them away.

The commander comes to his side. “Your Highness,” he says, his face a grim mask, at the news they have learned of the queen’s plans. He does not ask the question which is plain in his eyes.

Lee Chang exhales forcefully. “We must act quickly,” he says quietly. “Chances are that news of Naesonjae’s sacking has already reached the queen’s ears – we do not know what drastic actions she will resort to when she realises her plans have been thwarted.”

Commander Min nods. “And Lord Cho - ” he asks hesitantly. “His death…”

“How did he die?” Lee Chang questions in return. The commander’s unflappable expression does not change, but a thread of uneasiness steals across his features.

“He was said to have had a heart attack last night when visiting the queen,” Commander Min answers. “But I heard that Her Majesty did not summon a doctor to check that the body was dead, and it was cremated quietly without ceremony this morning.”

She has made a tactical error in getting rid of her father, Lee Chang thinks to himself. The queen does not have the loyalties or allies that her father had, and now that the man is gone, the flighty ministers and officials who had previously allied themselves with him will be vying for power amongst themselves. As a woman, and a young woman at that, she naturally commands little respect from her father’s cronies, even though she now holds control over the highest seat in the land.

Fools, all of them, Lee Chang thinks furiously. It would not do to underestimate any of the members of the Haewon Cho clan, that nest of vipers, no matter how young and inexperienced they may seem. For the Queen may not have her father’s political acumen, nor his powerful connections, but she does have his ruthlessness and scheming wit. And that is not to be looked down on.

“We must hurry back to the palace, and seize the throne from her,” Lee Chang says decisively. He turns back to the commander, whose eyes are now as round as dinnerplates at his words, his mouth gaping slightly open in shock.

“You have heard of the plague that is sweeping the south and turning its people into monsters who crave human flesh?” Lee Chang asks him. He immediately snaps his mouth shut, and nods.

“The Haewon Cho clan is responsible for this infection, and therefore, all the deaths that have resulted from it. They have even dared to turn the King into a monster,” Lee Chang says, his tone hard. “I managed to visit the King’s palace under cover of the dark a few days ago, and found my father no longer living, and now one of these unholy creatures. We have him in my private quarters, and he will serve as proof of the Haewon Cho clan’s vile misdeeds.”

With every word he speaks, the shock and anger thrum deeper through his every vein, and he can see these emotions reflected in Commander Min’s gaze as well. As Lee Chang finishes his explanation, the commander’s jaw tightens, and a renewed steeliness comes to his eyes.

“Then we must reveal the truth to the ministers, and depose the queen,” he says crisply. Lee Chang nods. “Your men will support you?” he asks.

“To the very end,” Commander Min answers, and no more words are needed.

He summons those of his men who are unoccupied with the Naesonjae prisoners, and they mount their horses, waiting for the signal to leave. Lee Chang mounts his own steed, but pauses at the sight of Mu-yeong, still crouched over his wife, her hand clutched tightly in his, and his head bowed over her chest, such that his expression cannot be seen. Her complexion is deathly pale, but her chest is rising and falling with greater vigour than before. Thankfully, however, from the sureness of Seo-bi’s hands as she dresses her patient’s wounds, and the calmness and placidity of her actions, Lee Chang is confident that she is in no more danger.

At the sound of the horses moving and the men shouting out commands with increased volume, Mu-yeong looks up, his face haggard with fear and anxiety. He sees Lee Chang already mounted, and blanches.

When he makes to stumble to his feet, Lee Chang urges his horse closer to the pallet on which Mu-yeong’s wife is lying, and places a hand on Mu-yeong’s shoulder. It is the second time that he has touched Mu-yeong, in his life, and he knows it will not be the last, for Mu-yeong is now as dear a figure to him as a good friend, an uncle, a brother.

The touch seems to soothe Mu-yeong somewhat, although he initially flinches back in surprise that Lee Chang has chosen to touch him again. When he has recovered his composure, he looks up at Lee Chang with uncomprehending eyes.

“Stay,” Lee Chang says, and his voice is unbearably gentle, even to his own ears.

“But, Your Highness,” Mu-yeong says, the volume of his voice rising in confusion. “You will be in danger. It is my duty to protect you. I will come with you,” and he begins to walk off in the direction of his horse. Lee Chang tightens his grip on the guard’s soldier so that he may not move.

“No, Mu-yeong,” Lee Chang says, and when Mu-yeong turns to face him again, Lee Chang grants him a wan smile. “You have done enough. It is enough to know that you and your wife will be safe. And while you have your duty to me, you have your duty to your dear wife as well, do you not?”

“But - ”

“Rest assured,” Lee Chang cuts in, “I will personally bear your son back to you, safe and sound. But your son needs his mother, and you must make sure that he has a mother to come back to.”

Mu-yeong stares at him blankly for a few more moments, before he abruptly casts his head away and stares at the ground. His shoulders begin to shake.

“Thank you,” Mu-yeong rasps, almost inaudibly, the words scraping over his tear-roughened throat. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

***

The bells of Bosingak ring triumphantly as Lee Chang and his men ride back to Hanyang, but they leave a sour taste in his mouth.

He remembers only two occasions on which they had rung so joyfully and with so rich a timbre and cadence. The first had been his birth, and the noise had irritated his infant ears, had made him cry and bawl with dissatisfaction, as he had been taken from the warm embrace of his mother, and into the callus-worn hands of the midwife.

The second time, he had been in the palace, and his master Ahn Hyeon had returned covered in blood. The war with the Japanese had been ended, but the lives of too many Joseon men had been sacrificed for it to be their victory.

And now, the third time. For the birth of the false prince, and for the culmination of a traitor’s schemes.

The guard attempts to stop him at the gate, but he merely urges his horse forward, and he, Commander Min and their men charge through the streets. People scatter before them, and behind them there are faint shouts and the blowing of horns as the alarm is sounded.

“Seize the prince!” shrieks a voice from up on the barracks. “Seize the traitor!”

The commander’s men fend off attacks from beside them, as the guards at the gate surge forward and attempt to cripple their horses – to little avail, for there are no more elite swordsmen than the soldiers of the Royal Commandery. The attackers are batted off as flies to the horses’ flanks, and it is not long before they reach the gates of Changdeokgung.

More men bar their way, and this time they cannot bulldoze their way through on horseback. Lee Chang looks at the commander, and he nods. The moment the two of them descend from their horses, Commander Min’s men immediately form a circle around them, guarding them from attack behind.

“I must speak to the queen, and the ministers,” Lee Chang says clearly. “I have evidence that the queen has been involved in a plot against the nation, and against the throne.” He pauses, and when there is no response from the guards – other than to cross their swords in front of the gate – he sighs.

“Do you not have relatives in the south?” he asks, softer this time, watching their faces. “Have you not heard of the terrible plague that is ravaging settlements, towns, cities? The plague that is turning your friends and family into monsters?”

He sees that they have faltered in their fierceness at his words, and he presses his advantage.

“The queen is the cause of the plague,” he says lowly. “She has unleashed the disease in the south so she may take command of the throne. Will you rest well knowing that such a woman will have control of the land? I do not wish to hurt you,” he adds, seeing one of the guards’ hands lower infinitesimally, “but I am willing to, if you will not let me pass.”

There is a single, loaded pause. The guards exchange wary glances and shift uneasily on their feet - then slowly, unwillingly, they lower their swords, and step aside with short bows. Lee Chang nods his thanks to the both of them, and pushes the door open.

They find the front courtyard relatively deserted, with most of the guards having been out on morning patrol in the city, or guarding the gate. Lee Chang turns to Yeong-shin, who has been a quiet but steady shadow at his side.

“You know what to do,” he says quietly, and Yeong-shin nods.

A month ago you said the crowds were dangerous, and you refused to leave my side, Lee Chang thinks. A month ago you would not have trusted me to defend myself. No sound comes from his mouth, but he thinks Yeong-shin hears the words he does not say, for there is a minute softening of the lines around his eyes as he looks at Lee Chang.

Be careful, Lee Chang says in his mind, and Yeong-shin nods again, sharp and short. He turns on his heel and hurries in the opposite direction.

They make a quick stop at the royal stables to hand their horses over to the gawking stable boys, and there is no other time to lose. It is the time when an assembly will have been called, Lee Chang knows, to introduce the new prince to the ministers, and for the ministers to have their audience with the queen. It is the perfect opportunity to reveal the truth to all of them, and see what the queen has left to say in her defence.

The doors to the audience chamber make a mighty satisfying boom as he throws them open, and strides into the chamber with Commander Min and his men at his back. He ignores the shocked gasps and murmurings of the ministers, gathered in rows by the side of the main walkway. His eyes are fixed solely on the figure seated on the throne, a squirming bundle in her arms, and a look of fury on her beautiful face.

“What is the meaning of this?” roars one of the officials, standing at the head of the rows of ministers. His voice is familiar – he is one of the men who had constantly curried favour and licked the heels of the Haewon Cho clan; a weasel of a man who had taken every opportunity to undermine whatever little authority Lee Chang had had under his father’s rule. And now he seems to have become the self-appointed leader of the remnants of Cho Hak-ju’s former allies.

“Guards! Seize this murderer!” squeals another of the ministers, also a former associate of Cho Hak-ju’s. “He is a traitor to the throne! Guards!” He looks around and wrings his hand ineffectively as it appears that everyone is ignoring his orders, too intent on the spectacle playing out in front of them.

Lee Chang comes to a stop in front of the throne, and he does not bow. Instead, he lifts his chin high, and looks down his nose at her. He knows she has always hated this look of his, and he savours the way it makes her face harden, flint-like, in its abject rage.

“That baby is not yours,” he says quietly, but his voice echoes, full and rich, throughout the chamber. “And neither is that throne.”

“You!” she spits, then visibly reigns back her anger. She clutches the baby tighter to her chest, as if it will somehow protect her from his words. “How dare you speak to your mother the queen in such a manner?”

“You are not my mother,” he answers calmly. Then he turns and faces the assembled ministers.

“I bring to you news of a conspiracy that has been planned and executed by the Haewon Cho clan, to claim control over the throne,” he says, and immediately the assembled officials break into a renewed multitude of whispers and confused murmurs. He merely waits for them to quiet, for he knows he will regain their attention soon.

When silence once again reigns over the chamber, he continues.

“Four days ago, when I attempted to visit my father in his chambers – where I heard he was resting, and recovering from smallpox – I laid before him the news I had gathered in the south. All of you have heard of the terrible disease ravaging the south, I am sure, and I had found evidence that the seed of this epidemic had been planted by someone.

“I found the man who had been spreading the disease, and he was a man you will know – Physician Lee Seung-hui, a man who aided our army in the war against the Japanese three years ago.” There is a collective intake of breath at the news, but Lee Chang forges on. “I found that he had been forced to spread the disease by someone, but he would not confess who. I brought him back to Hanyang to find the truth from him, but he disappeared from my custody two days ago.

“Two days ago,” Lee Chang repeats, emphasising the words. “Two days ago, I visited my father again, secretly this time, for somehow I had been barred from visiting my own father on his sickbed – by none other than the honourable queen herself. And I found that he had been consumed by the plague – the same plague that is turning both peasants and nobles in the south alike into inhuman creatures that lust after human flesh.”

One of the ministers swoons and falls over in a dead faint.

Very slowly, Lee Chang turns and looks straight at the queen. “Today I have returned from Naesonjae,” he says, and his voice is hard as he watches her eyes widen. “And I  - and Commander Min of the Royal Commandery - have found evidence of something far more treasonous – yes, far more treasonous than a plot to systematically introduce a fatal disease into a population of Joseon’s own people!”

The queen utters a scornful laugh, and tosses her head to the side. She paints a pretty picture, dainty and beautiful in her youth and vigour, and tragic in her role as the innocent accused, although Lee Chang knows that she is anything but.

“Do you have evidence?” she asks dismissively. “Do you have proof that these are nothing more than false accusations to detract from your crimes as the slaughterer of my father and my brother? I do not understand,” and now she looks contemptuously at the officials and men at her feet, “why none of you are moving to capture this murderer and traitor to the throne!”

“Oh, but I do have proof,” Lee Chang says softly, and steps aside.

The girl from Naesonjae stumbles forwards, kept firmly in her place by an unyielding hand placed tightly on her forearm by Commander Min. She tells her story with many stops and stumbles and false starts, but it is enough. Lee Chang senses the tide of sentiment in the room begin to turn, previously resolutely against him, and now in his favour.

Somehow the queen manages to keep her composure through the story, and when the girl is finished, she merely sniffs disdainfully, and looks down at the girl with eyes that could burn ice. The poor maid quails and shrinks into herself.

“Lies,” she says icily. But she clutches the prince tighter to herself, and the slip betrays her.

“You need more proof?” Lee Chang says. He can hear Yeong-shin’s footsteps, measured and calm, as he makes his way into the chamber. Lee Chang gestures for him to come forward, without turning to look.

As Yeong-shin moves forward, the ministers gasp in horror and shy away from the centre of the walkway. When Yeong-shin reaches Lee Chang’s side, he sets down his burden, and with a theatrical flourish, whips the bag off the former king’s head.

[omxriis]

               hi   guys      !      this   is   something   i’ve   been   tossing   back      &      forth   in   my   head   for   a   lil   bit   ,   but   the   fact   of   the   matter   is   that   my   muse   for   mari   was   starting   to   run   low   ,   but   i’m   a   mess      &      don’t   wanna   let   go   of   him   asdfjkns   ,   so   i   decided   to   revamp   him      !      or   more   accurately   ,   bring   old   mari   back      !      so   below   u   will   find   his   old   biography      (      thank   god   i   still   have   his   old   intro   up   sdfgkjfsd      )      as   well   as   a   little   update   bc   he   needs   smth   to   give   him   a   kick   up   the   ass   :/   this   shouldn’t   rly   affect   most   of   my   plots   but   if   u   would   like   to   plot   smth   w   him   ,   pls   let   me   know      !

&& .   announcing   his   royal   highness  ,      (      𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈   𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐈   𝐙𝐔𝐋𝐔      )      ,   the      (      𝟑𝟎      )      year   old      (      𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍   𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄      )      of      (      𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐀      )      .   he   is   often   confused   with      (      𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋   𝐁 .   𝐉𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐀𝐍      )      .   some   say   that   he   is      (      𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒      &      𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍      )      ,   but   he   is   actually      (      𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑      &      𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐅𝐔𝐋      )      .

trigger   warnings   :   brief   mentions   of   death      &      illness   .

*    𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑪𝑺   .

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋   𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄      &      𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒   :      omari      (      god   the   highest      )      malachi      (      my   angel      )      zulu      (      heaven      )      .

𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒    :      mar   ,   mari   .

𝐀𝐆𝐄   :      thirty   .

𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘   :      4th   of   august   .

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑   :      male   .

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒   :      he   /   him   .

𝐙𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐀𝐂   :      leo   af   .

𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐈𝐎𝐍   :      christian   .

𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍   :      crown   prince   of   botswana      (      self   -   proclaimed   professional   pain   in   the   ass      )      .

𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒   :      writing   ,   reading   ,   being   in   social   situations   ,   solving   problems   ,   traveling   ,   annoying   his   siblings   .

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐒   :      loud   eaters   ,   obnoxious   people   ,   big   insects   ,   being   responsible   for   his   actions   .

*    𝑨𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑻𝑰𝑪𝑺   .

bare   feet   in   mornings   ,   neatly   folded   clothes   ,   an   organised   shoe   closet   ,   messy   sheets      &      an   unmade   bed   ,   missed   calls   at   2am   ,   highlighted   passages   in   a   book   ,   dogeared   pages   ,   unanswered   texts   ,   tucked   in   shirts   ,   unfinished   books   ,   warm   tea   ,   warm   jumpers   from   the   dryer   ,   odd   ceramic   mugs   ,   hidden   springs   of   water   ,   worn   out   military   boots   ,   fallen   leaves   during   autumn   ,   poetry   at   midnight   ,   sleepy   morning   voice   ,   unsent   letters   .

*   𝑩𝑰𝑶𝑮𝑹𝑨𝑷𝑯𝒀   .

               when   botswana   gained   its   independence   in   1966   ,   it   seemed   as   if   things   were   going   well   .   the   democracy   they   had   built   was   stable      &      it   appeared   as   if   the   land - locked   country   had   no   problems   ,      &      for   a   while   it   hadn’t   but   after   a   few   years   the   peace   in   the   government   started   to   dwindle   .   too   many   people   wanting   too   much   power   ,   somebody   said   .   they   jumped   in   feet   first   without   any   real   clue   how   to   run   a   country   ,   said   another   .   but   over   time   the   uninterrupted   tranquility   became   obsolete   .   botswana   was   slowly   going   down   a   sinkhole   until   1985   ,   when   the   south   african   king   titled   his   eldest   son   ,   arno   zulu   ,   the   king   of   botswana   .

                the   change   shook   the   botswanian   government   to   the   core   ,   a   change   that   it   needed   .   at   first   the   people   of   botswana   weren’t   sure   how   to   react      —      this   new   monarchy   was   something   nobody   had   expected   .   but   the   newly   crowned   king   had   ambition      &      he   had   stride   .   he   had   a   set   vision      &      a   set   plan   to   follow   ,   all   the   while   he   was   kind   to   his   people      &      a   fair   ruler   .   it   didn’t   take   as   long   as   he   expected   for   the   botswanians   to   settle   under   his   rule      (      not   being   given   the   south   african   throne   was   a   huge   knock   on   his   confidence   as   a   royal      )      so   the   speed   his   country   settled   was   comforting   .

                however   ,   the   king   could   never   forgive   his   father   for   throwing   away   his   right   to   the   throne      &      instead   promised   it   to   the   youngest   of   the   zulu   heirs   .   this   bitterness   ,   however   subsided   into   a   more   a   more   subtle   distaste   as   he   settled   into   his   new   role      &      a   short   few   years   later   ,   he   was   married   to   a   libyan   princess      &      not   too   long   after   that   ,   she   fell   pregnant   with   their   first   child   .   the   pregnancy   wasn’t   easy      ;      there   were   a   few   complications   along   the   way   but   after   only   8   months   of   carrying   him   ,   omari   malachi   zulu   was   born   .

                omari   wasn’t   by   any   standards   an   extraordinary   baby   .   his   birth   was   easy   ,   all   things   considered   but   as   the   first   born   child   of   the   king   of   botswana   ,   he   had   responsibilities   he   never   even   knew   he   had   .   the   country   accepted   him   with   open   arms      &      celebrated   his   birth   in   an   ornate   fashion   .   after   all   ,   he   was   the   first   born   child   of   their   first   king   .   streets   were   decorated   with   the   botswanian   flag      &      music   filled   the   streets   for   days   after   .   the   prince   was   a   vision   ,   as   many   called   him   .   he   looked   strikingly   similar   to   his   father   ,   even   small   features   like   the   dimples   in   his   cheeks      &      the   crease   between   his   eyebrows   as   he   smiled   .   for   months   botswana   was   full   of   joy      &      that   joy   started   to   bring   the   country   back   into   the   state   of   peace   they   had   at   the   very   start   of   their   independence   .

                   the   birth   of   their   future   king   gave   them   hope   .   stability   .      &      in   turn   they   treated   their   leaders   with   grace      &      kindness   ,   living   in   harmomy   .   it   was   almost   idyllic      ;      omari   grew   up   in   a   world   where   everyone   was   at   peace   as   opposed   to   just   a   few   years   before   he   was   born   .   he   had   everything   he   wanted      &      was   treated   with   respect   ,   so   he   treated   his   people   with   respect   in   return   .   he   grew   up   in   a   loving   household   ,   full   of   books      &      all   the   learning   tools   a   young   heir   could   need   ,      &      although   his   professor   was   hard   on   him   ,   omari   did   not   let   this   harden   him   .

                as   a   child   he   had   always   been   a   free   -   spirit      ;      he   was   intrigued   by   the   idea   of   traveling      &      had   read   about   all   the   places   in   the   books   from   the   palace’s   library      &      from   strangers   who   had   stayed   at   the   palace   in   passing   .   he   was   quite   content   ,   he   had   a   certain   mischievousness   which   often   caught   the   guards   out      &      a   long   string   of   jokes   that   could   keep   people   laughing   for   days   .   however   ,   for   a   child   living   in   such   a   large   expanse   it   was   incredibly   lonely   ,   so   it’s   to   be   expected   that   when   his   brother   was   born   ,   omari   was   over   the   moon   .

                the   pair   were   like   two   peas   in   a   pod      ;      where   you’d   see   one   ,   you’d   no   doubt   see   the   other   following   not   too   far   behind   .   they   grew   close   quickly      &      omari   was   fiercely   loyal   to   his   younger   brother   .   however   ,   much   like   any   ordinary   older   sibling   he   could   be   difficult   .   although   he   wasn’t   nasty   ,   he   was   a   bit   of   a   tyrant   .   causing   ruckus      &      playing   pranks   on   his   brother   was   omari’s   favourite   pastimes      &      although   they   had   their   disagreements   ,   he   did   it   with   love      &      there   was   very   little   omari   wouldn’t   do   for   him   .

                when   his   brother   was   born   ,   omari   learned   a   lesson   in   sharing   .   when   his   sister   was   born   ,   he   learned   a   lesson   in   protection   .   growing   up   he   was   educated   on   how   to   run   a   country   successfully      &      how   to   be   a   good   king   ,   but   nobody   taught   him   how   to   be   a   good   brother   .   sometimes   he   could   be   intolerant   to   who   he’d   often   call   the   ‘ bonus   zulu   children ’   just   to   irritate   them   ,   but   despite   his   annoying   habits   his   siblings   were   his   best   friends   .   they   filled   the   empty   void   that   would   otherwise   still   be   hollow   in   the   palace      &      on   stressful   days   ,   they’d   be   the   ones   to   aid   him   in   unwinding   .

                the   pressures   of   becoming   king   one   day   didn’t   truly   hit   full   force   until   he   hit   his   teenage   years   .   he   was   expected   to   set   a   prime   example   not   only   for   his   country   but   also   his   siblings   ,      &    although   he   did   a   good   job   at   being   generally   liked   by   his   peers    &      the   like   ,   he   realised   soon   enough   he’d   have   to   get   out   there      &      represent   his   country   ,   so   that’s   what   he   did   .   he   started   travelling   the   world      &      meeting   new   people      &      after   a   while   ,   he   went   to   college   .   someone   had   briefly   suggested   a   college   in   portugal   so   he   decided   to   go   there   ,   studying   literature      &      modern   language   .

                it   was   here   where   he   met   barbara   de   bragança   ,   being   in   college   at   the   same   time   as   she   was   getting   her   degree   .   due   to   his   royal   status   he   was   invited   to   stay   at   her   college   home      &      after   taking   the   opportunity   ,   the   two   quickly   became   close   friends   .   he   completed   his   education   in   portugal   before   he   jetted   off   to   carry   on   exploring   the   world   ,   however   he   never   lost   touch   with   barbie      &      he   started   to   become   more   responsible   as   he   prepared   to   one   day   be   king   .   while   on   his   travels   he   learned   a   lot   about   different   cultures      &      could   strike   up   a   conversation   with   anyone   over   anything   .

                give   or   take   a   few   years    &      his   family   asked   him   to   get   engaged   to   the   princess   of   hungary   ,   fanni   croÿ   .   the   arrangement   was   strange   given   they   already   had   a   history   but   due   to   it   being   for   the   benefit   of   botswana   he   agreed      &      then   they   were   engaged   .   however   ,   just   as   they   were   starting   to   figure   things   out   the   engagement   was   called   off      &      out   of   his   confusion   ,   omari   took   off   without   a   word   to   anyone      &      has   been   m.i.a   ever   since   ,   only   keeping   in   touch   with   a   short   selection   of   people   .

*     𝑷𝑬𝑹𝑺𝑶𝑵𝑨𝑳𝑰𝑻𝒀   .

omari   is   a   lover   of   adventure      &      experiencing   new   things   .   people   might   call   him   a   thrill   seeker   ,   but   he   just   believes   that   a   life   without   experiencing   everything   you   can   isn’t   a   life   worth   living   .   he   enjoys   learning   new   things      &    is   always   keen   on   hearing   different   opinions   to   benefit   his   own   ,   however   he   can   come   across   as   being   quite   opinionated   when   it   comes   to   his   own   thoughts      &    he’s   not   afraid   to   speak   his   mind   ,   which   sometimes   got   him   into   trouble   when   he   was   younger   but   has   earned   him   great   respect   as   he   grew   older   .

                in   general   ,   omari   is   kind      &      thoughtful   .   he’s   been   influenced   a   lot   by   his   father’s   way   of   ruling   the   country      &      is   a   firm   believer   that   you   should   treat   people   the   way   you   expect   to   be   treated   ,   but   he’s   not   afraid   to   stand   his   ground   when   he   needs   to   or   protect   those   that   he’s   closest   to   .   when   it   comes   to   his   family      &    his   close   friends   ,   omari   will   go   to   the   ends   of   the   earth   for   them   even   if   it   was   just   to   bring   them   a   pretzel   from   europe   .   he   values   them   a   lot      &      is   extremely   loyal   to   them   .

                however   ,   omari   can   be   quite   flaky      &      fickle   .   when   it   comes   to   making   decisions   regarding   his   country   ,   he’s   very   clever   in   his   approach    &    makes   sure   it’s   the   best   decision   but   when   it   comes   to   his   personal   life   ,   he’s   not   very   good   at   all      &      often   has   to   seek   advice   from   other   people   just   to   make   the   correct   decision   .   he   dislikes   situations   that   are   too   messy   ,   which   is   one   of   the   few   reservations   he   has   about   being   king   because   he   knows   he’ll   be   stuck   in   some   but   he’s   working   on   his   habit   of   fleeing   before   the   situation   gets   too   bad      &   instead   striving   to   resolve   them   .

                he   can   be   pretty   mischievous   ,   since   when   he   was   younger   he’d   often   play   pranks   on   the   guards      &    his   siblings   just   to   ,   as   he   used   to   say   ‘ pass   the   time ’   so   although   he’s   someone   you   can   trust   with   your   secrets   ,   he’s   not   someone   you   can   trust   not   to   scare   the   living   daylights   out   of   you   the   next   chance   he   gets   .   he   loves   to   have   fun      &    is   slightly   worried   that   when   he   becomes   king   all   the   fun   he’s   having   now   will   no   longer   exist   ,   but   following   in   his   father’s   footsteps   is   something   he’s   always   been   keen   in   doing      &      seeing   how   well   he’s   doing   pushes   him   to   do   the   same   .

                although   his   father   isn’t   so   bothered   anymore   by   the   fact   that   he   was   ,   as   omari   sees   it   thrown   to   the   side   for   his   younger   brother   ,   omari   is   extremely   bitter   about   it   .   even   though   he   loves   botswana      &      its   people   ,   he   still   heavily   believes   that   since   his   father   is   the   oldest   of   the   zulu   heirs   ,   he’s   rightfully   in   line   for   the   south   african   throne   so   the   fact   that   his   uncle   ,   who’s   little   over   ten   years   older than   him   never   fails   to   stir   up   troubling   thoughts      &      now   that   his   grandfather   has   fallen   ill   ,   he   sees   this   as   an   opportunity   to   start   conflict   with   his   uncle   .

*   𝑼𝑷𝑫𝑨𝑻𝑬   .

ok   i’m   literally   just   gonna   bullet   point   the   things   that   have   changed   for   him   bc   i’m   too   lazy   to   go   back      &      edit   this   entire   bio   sdfkjdnsjkg

but   u   guys   already   know   gramps   is   dead   ,   which   means   ayo   is   king   ,   which   means   the   cousins   failed   in   their   attempts   smh

mari   was   slightly   bitter   after   the   coronation   ,   but   it   only   lasted   for   a   short   while   ,   bc   news   hit   him   that   his   father   wasn’t   very   well   ,   which   meant   that   mari   would   have   to   step   up      &      do   more

i’m   gonna   say   to   save   confusion   that   he   just   wasn’t   doing   enough   .   he   rarely   got   involved   with   political   moves   ,   so   that’s   crucial   now   since   his   father   can’t   cope   as   usual

so   i   don’t   rly   know   how   this   will   affect   him   ,   it’ll   either   make   him   kick   his   ass   into   gear      &      do   shit   with   his   life   or   he’ll   get   so   stressed   he’ll   have   a   break   down

WHO   KNOWS

[hungryhyena]

some small facts about the lads and their setting bc im hyperfocused on my own ocs??

asa has heterochromia! his left eye is blue, right eye is green. in their setting, heterochromia is considered lucky- they believe those with the condition will always find a soulmate, whose eyes will be colored like one of their own. theo has green eyes.

asa’s favorite food is coffee. that’s not a food, you may say. it is when that’s all you consume in a day. (his actual favorite food is seafood pasta)

asa began using a cane soon after he was cursed- his body is shaped in such a way it’s difficult to stand straight up and stay balanced, so he took his mentor’s old cane. he stands partly hunched, to balance his tail and neck. even after theo creates the curse-blocker spell asa uses, he still uses a cane, as he naturally wants to stand hunched and ends up with back problems.

asa has six older brothers- one is trans, and 3 (other than asa) are gay. his parents are cool with this, as the eldest son/future king already has a bio son with his husband.

asa’s monstery form has features of both foxes and swans- his mother’s crest is a fox, his father’s a swan. the witch who designed his curse did not intend this, instead just throwing in parts of several creatures. it’s just kind of a fun coincidence, and makes publicizing his return a little easier.

asa used to be an elf. he has long white hair in that form, which was a bit of a surprise to theo the first time they tried the blocker. he may actually be albino or leucistic, as his parents and all his brothers have blond or black hair.

theo’s favorite food is ‘forage stew’. it’s a stew made of whatever veggies, herbs, and meat can be found in the area in a thin broth and lots of spices. his favorite variety is rabbit and mushroom, it’s what he ate the most during his early training. very nostalgic.

theo comes from a group of monster hunters called the red guard. not guards at all, they’re more mercenaries who work together to find jobs. this world has a lot of monsters who sometimes encroach onto civilization, and it’s the job of hunters to keep folks safe.

the red guard has two main rules as to what they will not hunt: 1. nothing that speaks (mimics don’t count, they just parrot words back), and 2. nothing on its own territory. they only kill critters who aren’t sapient and bother people on their own land. if it’s just protecting its lair or its kids, it’s not their job. if its malevolent but intelligent, that job goes to an actual government body, because it’s technically a person.

new red guards are taught to forage early on, and to carry dried herbs and spices when they go on trips. their rations are very bland and don’t carry spices well, so they’re told to add flavorings when they eat. they also carry powdered broth cubes, so they don’t waste clean water after cooking their foraged foods.

this is a small thing, but when theo is on the job, he wears red and black, the colors of the red guard. after he quits, he wears green.

theo is trans, and started his transition when he was 14. his hrt is actually a charm he wears on a bracelet. surgery is still required for the top situation tho, but he did choose to keep his scars rather than magicking them away. he’s also bi, with a preference for men.

theo has a twin sister, delilah. she’s also bi. they were very close as kids, and drifted away somewhat after he joined the red guard, only seeing each other at holidays. they become closer again after theo and asa get together.

theo and delilah are similar in that they’re both pretty good at fighting. theo is better, but isn’t as punchy. delilah is willing to fight just about anyone, any time. they were raised by a single mother, ruby. she was. very tired most of the time

delilah has punched three (3) people who asked theo for his dead name.

yes, theo’s full name is theodore. asa sometimes calls him teddy/teddy bear. theo pretends to hate it but secretly adores it. theo loves asa more than anyone. when he meets the person who cursed asa and found out what else they did to him, he had to be held back by multiple royal guards to stop him from killing them.