#the dream/golden guard counts to this au

[written-in-flowers]

Be the Light: Pt. 5 (seongjoongxFem!reader)

Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!reader | Side pairing(s): Ateez x Fem!reader.

Word count: 5k

Genre: fluff, smut/ AU: historical au, arranged marriage au, polyamorous, royalty au

Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), group sex, multiple positions, multiple partners, cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed.

And a huge, huge thanks to my beta @daesukiii !!! Without them, this wouldn't be as good lol

Taglist: @scarfac3 @tunaasan @lelaleleb @sevngmin148 @meljoongiee @puppyminnnie @sunasmoke22 @kyourixr @yoongiigolden @lynnsqueendom @atinycafe @soocore @ethereally-lyann @blackbutterfly133 @ddaeing @pearlytinyy @iweirdthingsblog @huachengsbestie01 @glintneon123 @watamotee33 @n3atjok3r246 @sousydive @ashrocker123 @baekmond @escape-from-realitys-stuff @yunpointe @Silentcry329 @st4rcig4r @kaaytea @c4tboyxiao @ppprimary

Part 4 < > Part 6

****

They combed the entire palace, but Hongjoong knew they'd never find her. Sookymung lived here her entire life, knowing the secret passages and exits. With her supporters aiding her, she is likely on her way out of the city. Still, Hongjoong and San searched in the northern part of the palace grounds; Yunho and Yeosang searched the west while Jongho and Wooyoung took men to the east. He knew you were safe with Seonghwa in the harem, but he couldn’t help thinking of Sookmyung finding her way in there. Whether it is true or not, Sookmyung will believe you had a hand in this and come for you. She'd told him repeatedly how deeply she trusted you, bordering on being in "love" with you. Hongjoong couldn't stop himself from picturing her sneaking into your chambers, and plunging a knife into you like she'd done to his mother. He couldn't protect her, but he can protect you. 

This fight was far from over. 

By the time they returned to the harem, he found the other conspirators in the main room awaiting him. Jisoo spotted him first. 

"Did you find her?" 

"No," he shook his head. "She must have fled into the city. The city watch is on alert, but they won't find her." He looked at Wonshik, "We were betrayed. You said we had support on our side," he snapped at him angrily, "You said they'd stand with us against her. I don't know if you've noticed, but at least half of them defended Sookmyung instead of arresting her."

"It was the Dukes of Daegu, Gongju, and Ulleungdo who defected," Wonshik said. "I am not surprised by this. They have much to lose if Sookmyung is not on the throne. I should have foreseen this outcome-"

"-Yes, you should have," he looked about the room for you, "Where is YN?" He needed to see you. 

"She's asleep, Your Grace," Chaewon told him. 

"Alone?" His eyebrows raised at this serious oversight. "When Sookmyung is out there?" 

"She's being closely guarded," said Jisoo. 

"By who?"

"Seojoon and Minho-"

"-No," Hongjoong interrupted, "None of Sookmyung’s old guards. Until they have proven their loyalty to their new queen, I do not want any of the old guards overseeing YN." 

"Your Grace," she began, "Seojoon and Minho have proven themselves to be loyal servants to The Crown, not specifically Sookmyung."

"I don't care." He looked to the men behind him. If he should trust any of them, it should be the men who stood at his side. "San, Mingi, I want you to watch over YN."

"Are you-" Mingi began to say, but Hongjoong cut him off. 

"-I am. San, you used to be an army captain. Mingi, you worked for pirate hunters. I trust you both to keep her safe." 

There are so few people he can trust, he realized. Sookmyung knew about this coupe. Someone within their circle whispered their treason, and she gathered people loyal to her. It is the only explanation. She’d known they’d come for her eventually, but you being revealed as her sister distracted her. Even if she does not get her throne back, she will make sure you suffer. Hongjoong saw, watching San and Mingi leave the room, that he cannot simply let anyone be around you. Sookmyung’s allies may have stationed spies within the palace. One of them might even be ordered to kill you. He’d do everything in his power to make sure that never happened.

“What of the lords from Daegu, Gongju and Ulleungdo?” asked Seonghwa. “They’ll likely still be in the palace, if not already in the city.”

“I vote we round whoever remains,” said Advisor Junhan, “And hold them as hostages. We will send word to their families that unless they bend the knee to Queen YN, their children will continue to be imprisoned here.”

“No,” Wonshik disagreed, “If we do such a thing, we are no better than Sookmyung. We must continue searching for her.”

“But how?” asked Seonghwa. “We don’t have the men to spare for such a search. Besides, a whole host of men is a lot harder to hide.”

“I will write to Changbin,” Jisoo suggested. “He has plenty of connections and people to send about the kingdom for us.”

“Can they be trusted to not speak if captured?” asked Advisor Heechul. “Sookmyung’s methods of interrogation are horrendous. She may discover all she needs to know if she apprehends one of them.”

“They won’t talk,” said Hongjoong quietly. He thought of Naeun, who remained loyal until the very end. “Sookmyung tortured Naeun for hours, and she never said a word. Send word to Changbin,” he told Jisoo, “And tell him to plant his spies in the courts of Daegu, Gongju, and Ulleungdo. If Sookmyung is anywhere near those places, they might find out where.”

“Sookmyung will not make this an easy task,” noted Advisor Junhan. “I personally trained her in combat and martial arts. She is an excellent strategist-”

“-No, she is not,” argued Hongjoong. “She’s built her reputation as a great war strategist on lies and fear. It does not take military know-how to storm a castle and put it to the torch. Sookmyung only succeeded in war because she had advisors much more talented and knowledgeable than herself. Her conquest succeeded because she killed anybody who could possibly oppose her in the future, and installed people loyal to her in their place. That won’t happen again.”

“And what makes you so sure of this?” asked Wonshik, not challenging but curious.

“Because we’re on equal footing this time,” he told him. "She won’t have the support she had before. She's going to be outnumbered and surrounded.” If he's lucky, Sookmyung’s paranoia will cause her to lash out and behave rashly. 

“And she’ll have you to contend with now,” added Seonghwa with a small grin.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” interjected Advisor Junhan, “But you were a concubine for several years. I don’t think the people will-”

“-Hongjoong is the King of Wonju,” Seonghwa snapped. “He is the person the resistance wanted to lead them. He is a skilled swordsman, marksman, horse rider, and combat strategist. He knows Sookmyung just as well as anyone else in this room. If anybody could lead our armies to victory, it would be Hongjoong.”

“Us being her sex slaves will only endear us to the people more.”

It was Yunho who’d spoken. He stepped out from the shadowy doorway, pensive and serious. The healer. The physician. Yunho spent the past eight years personally attending to Sookmyung and her “flowers”. He’d also been the most kind-hearted of them all.

“Everything we know about Sookmyung is not a fact in the kingdom,” he continued. “Those who have witnessed her cruelty only saw a percentage of it. When word reaches the masses that everything they’ve ever heard about her is true, as possibly worse than they believed, they won’t be so hasty to follow her. Just because the dukes who betrayed us side with her does not mean their bannermen or lords under their rule will.”

“Are you suggesting we let the truth come out?”

“Why not? By morning, everyone will know YN is her sister and will be crowned the new queen soon. I think it will do well to tarnish Sookmyung’s reputation a bit further.”

“We could also let it be released that Sookmyung forced YN to participate in her wrongdoings,” Yeosang said from his window perch nearby. “It may cause them to sympathize with her.”

“YN will need all the support she can gather,” said Jisoo. “Sookmyung may have military strength, but the support of the people is a powerful thing. If they see YN is someone they can rally around, they will stand with her.”

Yes, they will. Hongjoong knew the people of Wonju will follow him, and if you’re his wife and he’s your king consort, they will follow you too.

“We must coronate YN as soon as possible,” insisted Wonshik. “The sooner we have a crown on her head and official documents in place, the sooner we can gain support.”

“And when do you suggest we do this, Wonshik?” asked Hongjoong with a challenge in his voice. “Tomorrow morning? We cannot stage a coronation in a day. Besides, a public event might put YN in harm’s way. No, it is too soon.”

“YN must be given time to take in all of this,” Chaewon said from behind Jisoo. “If I may, Your Grace, suggest that we take a small grace period in the meantime? The council can set coronation plans and we can focus on other matters.”

“Other matters?” questioned Hongjoong. 

“There is also another event that needs attention,” Jisoo answered. “Your marriage.”

“I would rather we focus our efforts on Sookmyung-” he began, but she intervened.

“A marriage between Hanseong and Wonju will be the distraction we need to buy us time.”

“And an opportunity for her to strike,” he retorted. “I do not want YN anywhere that Sookmyung could reach her.”

“And neither do we,” she said. “The wedding will be held in the palace behind closed doors and heavily guarded, if that pleases you.”

He thought for a moment, then said, “Let us put this to rest for now. I’d like to discuss this further with YN present.”

You likely do not even know about the arrangement. He knew you'd gone through enough for one night, and he wouldn't make it worse. The council, Queen Jisoo and Chaewon left the harem at his dismissal, bowing to him before making their exit. It felt odd having people bow to him. There'd been a time in his life where everybody knew when he was entering or leaving a room. But, they hadn't done that for years. It would be another thing he must get used to again. 

He turned to look at the men left in the room: Seonghwa, Yunho, Yeosang, Wooyoung, San, and Jongho. He noticed they each held their veils in their hands. His hands clenched into fists whenever he wore the golden veil, which became a symbol of enslavement. He'd removed the red headband she'd given to single him out from the rest; a token of her affection, she’d claimed. Hongjoong knew better. Hongjoong withdrew the veil tucked into a pocket, and walked over to a nearby brazier. Hongjoong examined the long, sheer material dotted in gold and silver pieces. He remembered when Sookmyung gave it to him. 

"You're mine now," he said to himself, recalling that moment in her tent. "And everyone will know it." 

Hongjoong thought of his dead mother, laying lifeless and bloody on the floor of their family room. Sookmyung told him if his men laid down their arms, she'd spare his mother and siblings. She didn't. She cut them down without hesitation. Hongjoong's heart ached in his chest, and he breathed deeply. Sookmyung took everything from him: his family, his life, and his dignity. He replayed every awful moment in his mind, and swallowed back his tears. Running his thumb over the smooth jewels, taking in their shape and size, he realized he'd never wear this again. Even if somehow they lost, and she reclaimed her throne, he'd rather die than be her slave. He'll never wear this veil or this headband again. Angrily, Hongjoong threw the two articles into the fire. Standing by the fire, he watched the silk start to singe at the edges. The veil's mesh material began curling outward in certain parts. It felt cleansing, standing beside the burning coals and watching his chains melt. He is his own person. 

Then another veil joined the fire. Then another, another, and another. Soon, all eight veils burned in the fire. Hongjoong glanced up to see tears welled up in Yeosang and Yunho's eyes, while Jongho and Seonghwa remained as stoic as himself. They're free now. They might not know what their futures hold, but they are their own men again. 

"We will not be slaves again," he promised them, gulping the lump in his throat. "I swear it."

He felt a hand grab his gently, long fingers sliding between his own. Hongjoong looked to see tears escaping Seonghwa's lashes, falling down his cheeks to his sharp jawline. He couldn't help wiping them away with his sleeve. 

"You'll never wear those masks again," he told him. 

"I'd die first," said Jongho stiffly, gazing into the fire with watery eyes. "I'll slit my own throat before being her property again."

"Do not say such insane things," Yeosang frowned, taking his hand in his own. 

"The only throat I want to slit is hers," Wooyoung said through gritted teeth, hands curling into fists at his sides. "She's hurt too many people to stay alive. She's too dangerous." He looked up at Hongjoong, "We have to win, we must stop her."

"We will," he assured him, unable to stop his own tears now. 

He stared at them as they cried in the flames. Hongjoong vowed to succeed. 

They must succeed. 

****

Waking up the next morning felt surreal. You thought you might be lying somewhere between reality and sleep before you sensed a presence near your bed. Panic immediately struck you, and you clutched the sheets around you. The image of Sookmyung standing over your bed, eyes blazing with fury and holding a long knife made you tremble. You knew they wouldn't find her. Sookmyung always got her way, regardless of who she killed to get it. A thousand pleas for mercy bundled in your throat, and you screamed when you felt a hand touch your shoulder. 

"Your Majesty, your Majesty!" a soft, gentle voice said over your panicked screams. You swatted at the figure, eyes closed to avoid meeting her eyes. 

"Get away! Get away!" you cried, your heart pounding in your ears as the person managed to grab hold of your arms. 

Then you felt somebody else at your opposite side, and you moved away from them. It took several minutes to register the white hanboks and the worried expressions of Sookmyung's former handmaidens. Aro, Saehee, Boram, and Dasom stood all around the bed, a bit frightened but mostly concerned. You never realized how similar the women looked. Short and skinny, Sookmyung made them wear their hair in long braids with the red colored daeng'gi at the end. In their pure white hanbok, they became almost indistinguishable. Sookmyung did this on purpose. Not only would she stand out against their white backdrop, but also stand taller and therefore appear more intimidating. Heat filled your cheeks, and you tucked a piece of hair behind your head, feeling embarrassed. 

"Forgive me," you coughed, sitting up properly and covering your chest. "I...I didn't..."

"It's alright, Your Majesty," soothed Saehee. The eldest of the four, you often put her in charge of managing the other handmaidens in your absence. She sat beside you, taking your clammy hand in hers, "It's only us here. Nobody is going to hurt you."

"We wanted to see you," admitted Aro. Only fourteen-years-old, you'd spent a good amount of time training her to serve Sookmyung, but she still made mistakes as children do. Something Sookmyung did not forgive easily. "We heard what happened yesterday, and wanted to see if you were alright."

"I had breakfast brought for you," Boram told you, taking a seat on the bed. "You hadn't eaten properly since yesterday, and I knew you'd be hungry." Boram, always considerate and motherly in that sense. Due to her close relationship with the chef's son and her culinary knowledge, you let her handle Sookmyung's meals. 

You supposed she'd be preparing your meals now. 

“Did you know Mingi and San are outside your door?" whispered Dosam, who crawled onto the bed close to you. "I think they've been there all night." Dosam, while sweet, never hesitated to indulge in gossip. You knew Sookmyung often used her as a spy in the servant's quarters, but Dosam usually lied or told a half-truth. "They almost didn't let us in until we said Queen Jisoo ordered us to come here."

"It's like they didn't trust us!" huffed Boram, arms crossed. "What did they think we'd do? Strangle you?"

"I'm sure they meant no offense, Boram," you assured her. "They're only being cautious." You looked at Dosam, "Did they find her?"

They all shook their heads, and dread filled your stomach. Sookmyung was likely already out of the city, plotting your death as you sit there. You hugged your sheets around your torso, and shuddered. She knew all the passageways into the palace, and you're sure her allies across the city would help her. She could come at any moment, drag you into the dungeon, and torture you to death. The phantom sensation of nails being pulled from your fingers or needles pierced into your skin one by one sickened you. She'd delight in throwing you into The Box, since your discomfort of it amused her. The possibility caused you to flinch at Saehee's touch again.

"But you're safe here," she insisted, rubbing your back gently, "Hongjoong will make sure you're safe."

"Hongjoong?"

"Yes, he's been working closely with the advisors and Queen Jisoo," said Dosam. "I saw him with the Queen when she summoned us to her apartments. They looked like they were having a pretty serious conversation if you ask me.”

"Was my mother there?"

The women paused for a moment. "Which one?" asked Boram, cautiously. 

You then remembered the most shocking part of the whole evening. All the confusion from the previous night returned, and added itself into the anxiousness rolling in your stomach. Queen Jisoo and King Siwon were your birth parents. They'd given you to their servants to keep a succession dispute. They'd done it in vain, since it is happening regardless of their efforts. You tried thinking of happy moments you had with the king and queen, but you only saw your mother and father when you did. Chaewon sang you lullabies whenever you had nightmares. Hyungshik always brought you pretty flowers or stones he'd found while tending to the gardens. They made sure you always ate well, and kept up with your studies. You knew you could turn to them in uncertain times. You didn't feel that way with Queen Jisoo, even if she was always kind and considerate of you. 

"My mother," you repeated a bit more firmly. "Park Chaewon." 

"She's with the queen," said Saehee. 

"She was sitting with her and Hongjoong," Dosam told you. 

"Did you hear what they were talking about?" asked Aro. 

"No," she shook her head. "They stopped talking when I entered the room." You then saw the wayward glance she gave, "But I did hear them at the door."

"What did you hear?" you asked her, somewhat nervous to hear the answer. 

Dosam did not answer right away. You recognized her hesitancy, since it was the same cower she'd give Sookmyung. She closed her eyes as if forced to say it, "They were talking about you marrying Hongjoong!"

Everyone on the bed gasped. You sat frozen in place, your brain trying to comprehend what she'd said. For a moment, you worried you may have heard her wrong. "What?" 

"I heard Queen Jisoo say that a marriage between Wonju and Hanseong will be good for the future," she said hurriedly, "And that together you and Hongjoong can rebuild the kingdom." 

"What? No...No, there's no way she's honestly considering..."

Hongjoong belonged to Sookmyung. He is her favorite flower, her most prized possession. If you married him, whatever plans she had will become especially heinous. Hongjoong's face came to the forefront of your mind. You thought about your conversation with him during the party. He'd told you that you worried so much about others, and rarely yourself. He'd said it in an amused tone, almost as if he found it cute. Hongjoong possibly thinking of you in any capacity outside of formality made your insides churn. You supposed a marriage between you made sense on paper, since he is a prince of Wonju and you're now a queen. But, thinking of marrying Hongjoong made your cheeks burn. 

"He is handsome," Saehee noted, "And tender-hearted. I think he will make a fine husband."

"And he's a prince!" added Aro. "Now that Sookmyung isn't around, he can be a prince again."

"He's a king," Saehee corrected her. "His family is dead, right? That means he's King of Wonju now." 

"Do you think you'll be his queen consort?" she asked you, bright eyed. 

"Maybe," you shrugged. "I'm meant to be the Queen of Hanseong. I don't think we can both marry if we have separate thrones. Who will look over Wonju, if Hongjoong is far away?"

“They can find somebody," Saehee said. "You never know. Perhaps he has a cousin or distant relative somewhere who can handle Wonju for him?"

"Perhaps."

Marrying Hongjoong was meant to be a fantasy of yours. Thinking about being his wife, his closest friend, and confidant was supposed to remain in your head. You'd do your best to avoid looking at or talking to him because you know if you did, you'd fall deeper in love with him. It's similar to your feelings for Seonghwa, who showed you gentleness and reassurance last night. You knew showing too much attention towards them would upset Sookmyung. With her out of way, and word of a possible marriage in the air, the possibilities felt endless. 

“Let us get you dressed,” concluded Saehee. “The Queen wishes to speak with you.”

“I can dress myself, Saehee,” you told her, wrapping yourself in the sheets and fixing your hair from your face. “It’s not necessary.”

“You’re going to be The Queen,” she said. “A queen always has handmaidens.”

“Unless…” Aro fiddled with the ribbon in her hair, “You wish to dismiss us?”

You saw the uncertainty show on their faces. None of them looked directly at you, and you frowned. 

“Of course, I wouldn’t dismiss any of you,” you implored. “Why would I do such a thing? We have gone through so much together, and I care about each of you deeply.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “You might not wish to have a stupid cry baby as you handmaiden,” she sniffled, and you saw her eyes water. “I’m always so clumsy and-”

“-And when have I shown annoyance at that?” you asked her gently. “When?”

“Never,” she sniffed. “You’re always so kind and patient with me.”

“I’m not a virgin!” Boram blurted out. When you all whipped your heads to her, she winced. “I’m not. I have not been for a long time. I knew the punishment for that, so I never said anything, but I am now. Vernon and I are in love,” she said to you in particular, “And he wants to marry me. I hope that it won’t upset or displease you.” 

“Not at all,” you told her, taking her hand in your own. “You are not my property. All of you are free to love and marry freely.” You stood up from the bed, standing straight as you said, “My first order to all of you is to live as you wish. You are all going to remain my handmaidens, but you can do what you please outside of your duties. Wear whatever hanbok you like. Wear your hair however you wish. You belong to yourselves, not me.” 

Their smiles lifted your spirits. You picked at the breakfast Boram placed in front of you while she and Dosam prepared a bath nearby. As good as it tasted, you found it hard to enjoy the food. Sookmyung slowly crept her way back into your mind, and you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking of her. Where did she go when she ran from the city guards? Who housed her right now? Did they know she liked to eat before she bathed? That she liked her soup piping hot, and her rice cooked to the perfect softness? You pitied whoever they put in charge of attending her. The poor girl won’t know the danger until it comes. You thought of the serving girl from a few nights ago who’d accidentally spilled wine. The girl lived, but you remember the long lashes on her bare skin and her painful sobs. Sookmyung found pleasure in her pain, but you did not. 

“Your Majesty,” Saehee appeared from the hall with a long box and you immediately shook your head.

“-No, I won’t wear that,” you stopped her. “I won’t wear anything that’s hers.” It sounded almost like bringing yourself bad luck. 

“This isn’t hers,” the woman insisted. “Queen Jisoo said she had some of her old hanboks stored away, and she thought you may like this one.”

“Oh…” 

You watched her remove the top lid as you finished your breakfast. Red with gold cranes circled on the shoulders, several royal seals were painted into the long draped sleeves. The royal dragon emblem was part of the sash over the top coat; pond scenes with cranes and flowers painted along the stripes down the skirt. You recognized it at once. Queen Jisoo wore it at the last royal event she attended before King Siwon’s passing. She’d look regal and elegant. You spotted the same floral pins she’d worn in her hair that day, tucked into the braided bun at the nape of her neck. 

“She wants me to wear this?” you asked, reaching forward to touch the soft satin fabric. 

“Yes,” she nodded. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?”

She’d chosen this one for a reason. If there’s anyone you should be emulating, it should be The Peoples’ Queen, Queen Han Jisoo. You left the bed for the bath, sinking into the warm water and beginning to scrub yourself. Dosam moved to take the sponge from you, but you held it from her. 

“I can bathe myself, Dosam,” you told her with a soft giggle. 

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

The words sounded weird when directed at you. You enjoyed the jasmine scented water as you contemplated the day. People everywhere must know the truth by now. What would things be like when you left the safety of this room? You finished your bath quickly, though you knew you could’ve taken as long as you wanted, and began drying and dressing yourself. Before you could pick up the undergarment layers, Saehee snatched it first. 

“Let us at least dress you,” she said. “You’re a queen now. It’s considered an honor to attend to royalty.”

Was it? You certainly never felt honored when you dressed Sookmyung. Still, you allowed the four women to dress you. With each piece they slid onto you, you felt yourself slowly melting away. You’d never worn such finery before, and wearing the eoyeo meori felt different. Slowly, YN the Handmaiden became YN the Queen, and you didn’t know if you liked the queen yet. Sitting in front of the long mirror, looking yourself over as Dosam finished applying lip paint, you realize this is something you’ll be doing every morning. It didn’t matter if you wanted this or not. You must go through with this now, or otherwise all the effort put into it will be in vain. 

“You look magnificent,” smiled Aro, who stood aside to look at you. “Hongjoong won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

“I don’t look like myself,” you touched the smooth skirt between your fingers. “I don’t feel like myself.”

“It’ll take some adjustment, I expect,” assured Saehee. “But, a nice hanbok and a wig doesn’t mean you’re not still YN. You’re YN with a title, that’s all.”

You didn’t know how to explain that it’s more than that. Your sole responsibilities used to only be the handmaidens and Sookmyung. As a queen, everyone in the kingdom is your responsibility. How can you possibly accommodate and please so many people? Particularly people once ruled over by fear and anguish. You liked to think you had your mother, the advisors and Jisoo helping you. They wouldn’t allow you to fail. 

“Think of all the good things you can do now that you’re queen,” Aro said, smiling. “You can help so many people.”

You knew she meant well, but that only filled you with more dread. 

“And you’ll have Hongjoong beside you,” Dosam smirked, “He’s quite fond of you. I don’t think he’d let you fail.”

‘Fond of you’. Was he? Yes, Hongjoong made kind passive gestures towards you before, but nothing indicating ‘fondness’. As they led you out of your dressing room, you couldn’t imagine Hongjoong being ‘fond’ of you. Every time you thought of his soft giggle or the crinkle of his eyes, Sookmyung's face came up right behind it. You thought of his lips lightly brushing against yours, one hand holding your hand and the other around your waist. He’d taste like mint and smell of cinnamon, a combination that would unravel you in seconds, melting any guard you may have up around him. Hongjoong and you may have not spoken often, yet you could not help imagining that fondness being present. 

“Good morning, Your Majesty.”

Seonghwa stood in the main room of the harem with San and Mingi. Yeosang, Yunho, Wooyoung and Jongho all sat around, enjoying a light breakfast spread put out for them. They all stood from their seats when you entered, and you immediately remembered you’d fallen asleep in the harem. Embarrassment filled your cheeks, and you did your best not to look away. 

“I’d ask if you slept well,” he said, “But I’m afraid not many of us did.”

“I slept well,” you replied. You felt his eyes taking in every inch of your face, and this did not stop the daydreams from expanding further. Seonghwa and Hongjoong. Sookmyung could have two lovers. Why couldn’t you? “Thank you. I assume it was my mother who asked you to keep watch over me?”

“In fact, it was Hongjoong who insisted we keep you here,” he answered, “I only seconded it.” He approached you, “They’re waiting for you in Queen Jisoo’s residence. San and Mingi are sleeping off their guard duty, but Wooyoung, Yunho and myself will walk you there.” 

“What about the other palace guards?” 

“Hongjoong said he wasn’t comfortable with any of Sookmyung’s old guards watching over you,” he said. “We’ll be watching over you until you’ve chosen a suitable guard for yourself.”

“Does that displease you, Your Majesty?” 

Wooyoung asked this with worry in his voice. You stared at him for a moment. His slim build made it easy for him to slip between trees and scurry through dense bushes like a shadow. You remembered Sookmyung complaining about how he can be so loud, but still able to pass through unnoticed. It’d taken them a week to find him when he’d escaped camp during the war. He’d also been the hardest for Sookmyung to break. 

“Not at all, Wooyoung,” you answered him honestly. “I don’t believe I’d feel comfortable around anyone who pledged allegiance to Sookmyung, to be truthful.” 

You then noticed the most obvious thing about the men: they did not wear their veils. They’d rid themselves of their shackles, and you smiled softly at them. “Shall we go now?” you asked, taking a timid step forward, “I don’t wish to keep my mother or The Queen waiting any longer.”

“Of course, when you wish, Your Majesty.”

Right. You’re meant to lead. Taking another step, you kept putting one foot in front of the other as the group followed you outside. Yunho and Wooyoung walked ahead, wearing swords at their sides and no longer hiding their faces behind veils. Your handmaidens flanked you, keeping their heads down, while Seonghwa came into step beside you. 

“May I accompany you there, Your Majesty?” he asked. 

“Yes,” you nodded. “It’s still so odd.”

“What is?”

“To be called ‘Your Majesty’,” you said. “It feels…wrong. It doesn’t suit me.”

“You’re the queen. It’s your title.”

“I still don’t know if I like it.”

“Then, what do you wish to be called?” he asked, “Give me a title and I’ll gladly call you by it.” 

You gave it a thought, “Hm, I don’t know.”

“Alright, ‘I-Don’t-Know’,” he smirked, giving you an amused smile. 

You laughed at his joke, some of the tension inside you deflating as you reached the harem entrance. The world felt different to you, but you weren’t sure how. You thought you might have woken up in a dream, and you’ll wake up any moment. 

“I imagine it will take a while to adjust,” he said when you reached the palanquin. “A lot has changed overnight, and it must be a lot to take in for you.”

“It is,” you admitted with a sigh. You anxiously picked at the inside of your sleeve, standing in front of the palanquin. It wasn’t Sookmyung’s palanquin. Hers had been larger. “Hongjoong is with my mother?”

“He is,” he nodded. “He went ahead with her to talk to the advisors and discuss our next move. I’m sure they’ll inform you once you arrive.” 

He let you climb into the palanquin first, then followed you in. Being in a close, intimate space with Seonghwa put you on edge. Light whiffs of sandalwood came from his clothes, which you came to enjoy very quickly. Once the footmen began moving towards the queen’s residency, you spoke. 

“Has he slept at all?” 

“A bit,” he said. “As I said, not all of us slept very well. The guards are still combing the city for Sookmyung, and word about last night is beginning to spread outside the capital. I imagine everyone will know about you, Sookmyung, and the throne by week’s end.” When saw the anxiousness in your face, he added, “I’m sorry this has happened so quickly, YN, and that you’re not being given sufficient time to adjust. It isn’t fair to anyone, but most of all you.” 

“Thank you, Seonghwa,” you gave a soft smile, trying not to notice his round eyes gazing so intently at you. “Thank you for being here.”

“You’re my queen now,” he grinned, “I will be wherever you wish me to be.”

You smiled for a moment, before it instantly faded. “What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned. “Did I say something to offend you?”

“No, no, forgive me. It’s not you,” you insisted. “It’s…” you sighed, “Even with her gone, I still see you as hers. She kept you at such a far distance that it’s almost as if she still owns you.”

“She doesn’t,” he said firmly. “And she doesn’t own you either. We are our own people now. We can be whoever we choose to be,” he then added, “And be with whoever we wish.” 

You bit your inner cheek to keep from smiling.

*****

A/N: I'm super sorry I kept everyone waiting so long in between chapters! My mental health, work, and life things really just kept me from really focusing on a single project at a time. I hope this chapter makes up for it! <3

[yuujispinkhair]

Wildest Dreams

You're supposed to write an article about a charity event at The Shrine, the casino of the Itadori family, but soon get swept away by the Yakuza Prince himself. It's probably a bad idea to get close to a dangerous man like him, but he's so tall and handsome as hell. Why not allow yourself to live your wildest dream, at least for one night? -> This is part of my Blog Anniversary Event (closed). @cometcoffee103 requested the song Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift for Yakuza!Yuuji.

Pairing: Yakuza Prince!Yuuji x Reader (female) Genre: fluff + smut, Yakuza AU Word Count: 2k Warnings: 18+, a bit of smut (not very explicit), taking pictures during sex, mentions of alcohol, mentions of organized crime. This story is set in the same universe as my Yakuza AU, but you don't have to read that to understand this story. All you need to know is that Yuuji is the younger brother of the Yakuza King Sukuna, and this version of Yuuji is a bit of a playboy, but in a very sweet and charming way ;) All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

The casino is bustling with people, all of them dressed to the nines, including you. But you feel out of place here, despite the nice dress you are wearing and the red lipstick you put on. Everyone around you is someone important, someone insanely rich or influential, politicians, actors, businessmen. And Yakuza.

You gulp hard. Your hand trembles a little as you bring your wine glass to your lips to take a small sip. You shouldn't even be here. You usually only write short lifestyle articles for your magazine. It was your boss' job to attend the charity event in The Shrine, the biggest casino in the whole city, the casino of the Itadori family, one of the most powerful Yakuza clans in the country.

But two hours ago, you received that fateful message: "Put on your nicest dress and hurry to The Shrine. I'm at the hospital and can't make it. I need you to write the article about the charity event. And try to add something personal about the Itadori brothers! That will get our readers hooked."

And so you are standing here, clutching your wine glass while trying to blend in with the millionaires around you, feeling the hairs on your arms stand up as you wonder how many of them are criminals.

You don't even see him coming until he is right in front of you, moving gracefully like a tiger. A broad smile lifts his lips, and golden eyes meet yours.

"Hey, don't you like the wine? Should I get you another drink?"

You take in a sharp breath. You know the man in front of you. Of course you do. 

Itadori Yuuji, with his pink hair and golden eyes. Tall and muscular in his tailored black suit with a pink dress shirt and black tie. Looking just as rich as he truly is with the diamonds sparkling in his ears and the gold rings on every finger. But the scars on his handsome face also tell a story about the other life he is living. His life in Tokyo's underworld.

He is one of the people you got sent here for. The Young Tiger. The Yakuza Prince.

Your heart flutters nervously. But you force yourself to get a grip and be professional. And so you clear your throat before smiling politely at him and shaking your head,

"No, thank you. The wine is perfect, Mr Itadori."

He blinks and then throws his head back and laughs heartily.

"Ahh, please don't call me that! I am Yuuji for someone as cute as you."

Oh?

For a moment, you are caught off guard by his directness and the shameless flirting. But the Itadori charm is well-known. Both Itadori brothers are infamous for being big flirts and playboys who collect women just like they collect fast cars and expensive jewelry.

He points at the press card dangling on a chain around your neck,

"You're here to write about the charity event? How lucky that you ran into me! I can tell you everything you want to know. Come with me!"

You hastily follow him, not daring to waste this chance to get the article your boss demanded from you. And also not daring to turn down the Yakuza Prince's offer.

You spend the next fifteen minutes in a fancy VIP booth while Yuuji answers your questions for your article. Though half of the time, he is blatantly flirting with you. He isn't shy about it. Clearly, a man used to always getting what he wants. The spoiled Prince of Tokyo's underworld.

But you have to admit that his boyish charm works on you. Somehow, his loud laugh and broad sunshine smile make him seem less intimidating than his name suggests. If you didn't know who he was, you wouldn't even be nervous around him. He is so sweet somehow, making you laugh and feel more at ease at this event where you feel so out of place.

And his good looks certainly work their charm on you, too. He looks dashing in his suit, which accentuates all his firm muscles. The undercut and the pink hair on top look sexy on him. You realize that you have unconsciously scooted closer to him.

His golden eyes look thoughtfully at you, making your heart jump. 

"You don't look like you enjoy this event very much. I hate these things, too. All those boring people who try to talk business with me, and no one dares say something funny. I don't know how Sukuna is able to endure this all the time."

He sighs and rolls his pretty eyes. The eyes that then land on the low neckline of your dress. His smile grows bigger, and your breath quickens. Yuuji's large, warm hand lands on yours, giving it a squeeze.

"Hey, cutie, let's leave this boring party, ok? Let's drive out of the city, away from the crowds. We can have some fun, and you can get an exclusive interview with the Yakuza Prince! Not just boring facts about this event, but more personal things. How does that sound?"

Everything in you screams to say no. It's insane to leave with the Yakuza Prince. He might not be as dangerous as his big brother Sukuna, but he is still a powerful Yakuza who can easily kill someone, as the scars on his pretty face prove. It's crazy to imagine getting in his car and driving to an unknown place with him. It's wild to imagine being alone with him.

But somehow, you find yourself biting your lip and nodding as you lift your head to look up at his handsome face. Somehow, your heart is beating so fast that you feel dizzy. Somehow, your skin tingles with excitement. You know you want to go with him. Even though you know there is a high chance this is going to take you down, you can't bring yourself to say no.

And so the words leave your mouth,

"Ok, let's go. Let's sneak away."

Yuuji smiles his bright sunshine smile at you, just as dazzling as the diamonds sparkling in his ears and the various gold rings on his fingers. There's a cheeky glint in his golden eyes,

"I'm very good at sneaking away."

He grabs your hand and pulls you with him, striding with fast steps through his casino, and starts running when you're halfway out the door, laughing loudly, as if he is relieved too to finally leave this fancy event behind. As if he is finally free.

He leads you to his car, a red Porsche, his favorite one, as he lets you know while he holds open the door for you, so charming that you can't help but feel light-headed from all the butterflies in your stomach.

Yuuji drives like someone who knows this city belongs to him. A bit too fast, the music a bit too loud, but it's perfect the way it is. It makes your pulse flutter and your body fill with a giddiness you can't remember ever feeling before.

You leave the city behind you, making an excited tingle start under your skin and spreading through your whole body. It feels like an adventure. Exciting, bubbly. As if your wildest dreams are coming true.

Yuuji parks his car on top of a cliff, turns off the engine, and turns to you with his big sunshine smile.

"So, what are your questions for me, princess?"

You laugh softly,

"Well, my boss said I should try to add something personal about you or your brother. Why don't you tell me a bit about yourself? Not about the Yakuza Prince. Tell me about Yuuji."

He smiles and leans closer to you, his large hand cupping your cheek while his golden eyes travel slowly over your face. His thumb caresses your cheek, the gold ring on it gliding smoothly over your skin. Yuuji's voice is low, and you can hear the smile in it,

"Then let me tell you a secret. I hate all those stiff, formal events. I rather want to go clubbing or play video games with my friends. I enjoy spending time at my pachinkos and making my best friend Megumi play the arcade games against me, even though I know I suck at those games. And I like to hang out at my pizza delivery service. I don't care that it's only for ... tax-saving purposes. I love pizza! I want to adjust the recipes and make the best pizza in the whole city! That is my new passion!"

His eyes glitter excitedly while his voice drops to a softer tone, low and almost seductive,

"And I like this here. What we are doing right now. Drive out of the city and look at the sunset. I know I can see it from my penthouse, too, but it's not the same."

His words could sound arrogant, the words of someone who grew up rich and has no idea how normal life works. But he doesn't sound like that. There's an almost melancholic tone to his low voice. As if this evening with you, where he ran from his obligations and the glittering fancy party, is his wildest dream, too.

A soft smile lifts your lips, and you catch yourself leaning into his large, warm hand as you look deeply into those gorgeous golden eyes,

"Then let's stop this stupid interview and just enjoy your free evening."

His answer is a broad, boyish grin that makes your stomach flutter. You chuckle when Yuuji leaves the car and comes over to your side, opening the door for you like a gentleman and offering his hand to lead you to the fence at the end of the cliff, where you have a majestic view over the ocean and the beginning of a beautiful sunset.

But your gaze strays to the man next to you. The Yakuza Prince. Or out here, just Yuuji.

You look at him, at his side profile, hit once again by how good he looks. So tall and handsome as hell in his tailored black suit with the light pink dress shirt and black tie. More stunning than any sunset could ever be.

Yuuji turns his head, catching you staring at him, and laughs happily as he reaches out to wrap a strong arm around you and pull you in front of him, making your pulse flutter with how easily he can manhandle you.

He stands behind you, so tall and strong, his muscular arms wrapped around you, holding you safely, his body pressed against your back, warm and buff. You can feel his firm muscles and smell his sexy and expensive perfume.

Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his kisses on your neck.

You tilt your head back to rest against Yuuji's shoulder as you look up at him and are met with a smile even more beautiful than the sunset.

A warm, large hand cups your chin, and then soft lips capture yours in a slow, sexy kiss that makes your knees weak. Who would have thought that the Yakuza Prince would be so gentle when he kisses you for the first time?

You have no idea how long you kiss him. You get lost in the feeling of his warm lips on yours and his tongue caressing yours with those deep, sexy flicks. Your hand is tangled in his pink hair as if you don't ever want to let him go again.

The two of you only pull apart to watch the rest of the sunset, with Yuuji's arm around you as you lean against his strong body, unable to stop smiling while your pulse races and your heart hammers in your chest, your skin tingling all over from the sheer craziness and excitement of it all.

+++

"Do you want to spend the rest of the night with me?"

Your heart misses a beat at Yuuji's question. You feel dizzy when you turn around in his arms to look up at his handsome face.

The deep scars across his nose and on the side of his lips tell you about the dangerous life he leads. His title tells you about how dangerous he himself is. You know he is bad, so so bad. But you cannot bring yourself to turn him down when he smiles that big smile at you. You cannot say no to him when every fiber of you craves him, if only for one night.

And so you nod and place a hand on his broad chest, playing with his black tie as you breathe softly,

"Yes, I can't think of anything else I would rather do."

And he smiles that attractive boyish smile at you and leans down to kiss the corner of your lips,

"I will always remember this evening. The pretty sunset, with an even prettier girl. You in that dress, with your red lipstick and the sweet kisses. Please tell me you'll always remember it, too."

You nod happily before cupping his cheeks with your hands and getting on your tiptoes to kiss him again, breathless and passionate, before whispering against his lips,

"Say you'll see me again after tonight, Yuuji."

And his arms tighten around you, strong and muscular, and he nods,

"Of course I will."

You don't hesitate when he leads you back to his car and holds the door open for you. You smile when his large hand lands on your thigh on the drive back to the city, slipping under your dress to caress your inner thigh, dangerously close to your already-soaked panties, making your heart beat wildly as you grab the leather seat. 

You giggle breathlessly when he leans over and kisses you at a red light, making your head spin with the sexy flicks of his tongue before he pulls away again.

You eagerly say yes when he asks if he can accompany you to your apartment. Your dress is already halfway off by the time you manage to unlock your door in between passionate kisses.

You moan when Yuuji's large hands knead your ass and his warm lips suck on your neck. You palm the hard bulge in the Yakuza Prince's fine suit pants all too happily, gasping at how big and hot he feels. You leave a trail of clothes on your floor, leading to your bed, where you spend the best night of your life.

Ruffled sheets, the rhythmic beating of your heart in synch with the headboard banging against the wall. Yuuji's heavy body on top of you, pressing you down so deliciously into your sheets. Loud laughter, even louder moans, and dirty whispers in your ear. Kisses and lipstick marks all over his tan skin. His clothes on your bedroom floor, your hands in his pink hair. Every inch of you brimming with pleasure while you're tangled up with Yuuji's strong body all night, finding utter bliss on his sweet mouth and his gorgeous cock. Smiling when he asks you to please let him take a picture of you while you ride him.

Tomorrow morning, he will leave, get in his sportscar, drive back to his fancy penthouse, and continue to live his fast life as the Prince of Tokyo's underworld. You don't know if this will only be one night and you'll never stand before him in person again after this. But you know you both will always remember this night.

And you will see him again, even if it's just in your wildest dreams.

AAAHHHHH thank you so much for this prompt, babe!!! I was so happy to write for Yakuza Prince Yuuji again aaaahhh!! I am crushing so much on him all over again omgggg 💗💗💗 I NEED HIM BAD!!!

I hope you liked staring at the sunset and staring at sexy Yuuji ;) Please let me know what you think!

Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

[kai-uh-arcadian]

I feel like I know you

synopsis: you relentlessly have dreams of a woman you can never remember the moment you wake up

cw: soulmate! AU, angsty-(?), minor cursing, briefly suggestive, alcohol, brief mentions of death/killing

word count: 7.5K

notes! hi hi (: it’s lowkey inspired by the movie ‘Your Name’ but with Tzuyu! (obv) Italics indicate dreams/other timelines. I really enjoyed writing this— although I’m inexperienced I hope you enjoy! Let me know how you feel about it or if you’d just like to chat! Love youuu (:

You were at the bookstore when you first heard it.

Bells.

Clear and unmistakable, the sound cut through the quiet hum of the store. It was as if the world paused for a moment, just long enough for the chime to echo between you both.

You were walking through the narrow aisle, lost in thought, when your shoulder brushed against hers. The contact was brief, almost incidental, but the timing was perfect—right as the bell rang. Both of you stopped, caught off guard, and turned to face each other. Her eyes were wide with the same bewilderment you felt. For a split second, it was as if the world shrank to just the two of you, suspended in that peculiar moment.

“Oh-! I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath– trying to assuage the awkwardness that was in the air. She nodded, offering a small smile before you both continued on your way, the moment slipping into the background like a passing breeze.

You finished your browsing, paid for your book, and headed back to your studio apartment. The familiar warmth of home welcomed you along with your dog Bread as he was wagging his tail. You set the book down on the table, patted Bread’s head, and moved through the motions of your evening routine—making dinner, washing the dishes, tidying up and showering.

Finally, as the day wound down, you climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to your chin. Your thoughts drifted to the beautiful woman in the bookstore, the sound of the bell, and the strange sense that something had shifted. You decided to shrug it off as a coincidence as maybe someone had opened the door at the exact moment you two brushed against each other(but you swore you only heard it in your head, not from your ears.) 

But sleep came quickly, pulling you into its embrace before you could dwell on it any longer.

That’s when it began.

The dreams.

You’ve always had vivid dreams, the kind that feel more like memories than figments of your imagination. But this was different. The clarity, the intensity—it was as though you were slipping into another world entirely.Truly blurring the line between reality and fantasy.

“Jagiya~, let’s go up there! That spot looks perfect!” The voice was ethereal, almost musical, as she led you up a lush, green hill, a wicker picnic basket swinging gently in her free hand.

“Yeah! That’s perfect!” you replied, your voice bright with excitement. But even as the words left your lips, it felt odd—as if you were watching a scene play out from a distant memory, detached yet present. Like you were both an actor and observer, following along as if it were scripted, yet not fully in control.

The strangeness lingered.

You were fully conscious, intensely aware of everything around you: the warmth of the sun on your face, the way it cast a golden hue across the landscape; the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, brushing against your skin like a gentle caress; the intoxicating scent her rose perfume that drifted through the air, delicate and familiar, stirring something deep within you.

“When I used to get homesick, I would come here and make all the same snacks my mom used to make for me when she would take me out for a picnic” her voice entranced you like she was a siren. God.. Her laugh was even more enthralling, “She even let me bring TWO of my stuffed animals to join us” she chuckled

“I haven’t been here in a while though..” she trailed off as if she had more to say but waited for your response.

“Hm~? Why not jagi?” genuine curiosity evident in your voice

Who was this woman? A part of your mind questioned her identity, her presence—so familiar yet unplaceable. The other part of you was overwhelmed by an inexplicable sense of love and happiness, as if every fiber of your being recognized her, longed for her. Your soul knew her.

You could only see her back as she walked ahead—her hair was black and cascaded down her back in soft waves, her frame slender and elegant, her height slightly above average. She moved with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly, her steps light and purposeful as if this hill was a sacred place, meant just for the two of you.

You reached the top of the hill, the world stretching out before you like a painted masterpiece. The woman paused, her back still to you, and you felt your heart quicken. She began to turn, slowly, as if in a movie, and you knew—knew with every part of you—that seeing her face would change everything.

“Well.. Because you’re my home now, y/n”

But just as your eyes were about to meet hers—

You woke up.

The dream slipped away like sand through your fingers, leaving you with a lingering sense of longing, of something lost and yet to be found. Your heart raced as you lay there, the vividness of the experience etched into your mind, leaving you questioning whether it was just a dream or something more—a memory, or perhaps, of a life you couldn’t quite remember.

~

These dreams persisted for weeks, each one more vivid and consuming than the last. Pages and pages of your journal were filled with each dream with the mysterious woman. You also sketched whatever details of her world you could recall—an outdoor market while she browsed records, a side view of her looking at a bouquet of flowers, and a pair of small dogs, one dark, one light. 

Yet, no matter how hard you tried, her face remained elusive. It was always blurred, or worse, you would wake up the moment you were about to see it. The frustration gnawed at you, driving you to spend more time with your journal, hoping that somehow, the next dream would reveal more pieces to complete this impossible puzzle.

After scribbling whatever details you could remember, you sighed, setting your pencil down. You cleaned yourself up, fed Bread, and sent some money to your loyal dog sitter (and neighbor!) Momo. 

With Bread content and your mind somewhat at ease, you began to organize your things for work. Once everything was in order, you decided to head to your favorite café, Park’s Perk.

~

The morning air was crisp as you made your way down the familiar street. As you entered the café, the comforting scent of freshly brewed coffee greeted you, and you spotted your friend from college, Jihyo, preparing for the day ahead.

“Jihyo-unnie, you don’t understand these dreams I’ve been having!” you whined, trailing after her as she moved from table to table, wiping them down in preparation for opening.

She paused, glancing at you with a mix of concern and amusement. “You’re right, I don’t understand, but I can imagine how crazy it must be to experience them. Maybe it’s— Hi, welcome in!”

She was interrupted by the bell above the door jingling as another customer entered. You let out a sigh, flopping down into your usual seat by the window. “ Ugh~ It’s like every time I’m about to see her face, something pulls me out of the dream. I just can’t shake the feeling that she’s important, you know?”

Jihyo finished wiping down the last table and came over to join you, setting a steaming cup of your favorite brew in front of you. You said a quick ‘thank-you’ before she continued “You know, the subconscious mind is weird. Maybe it could be connecting you to a past life or maybe it’s just showing you the type of life you want to live with someone. Did you have a dream last night?” 

You took a sip of the coffee before explaining, “Yeah we were..”

You rummaged through the cupboards of your home, carefully selecting your and your wife’s favorite tea cups. They were delicate, with hand-painted patterns you had both made at a pottery class you two took as a date. You gently scooped the tea leaves into the kettle, breathing in the familiar, calming scent as the steam rose. The boiling water poured into the kettle with a soft hiss, and you set it aside to steep

As you moved about the kitchen, you heard your wife’s footsteps in the hallway, the soft padding of her feet growing fainter as she entered the living room. A moment later, the gentle, melodic sound of the guzheng filled the air, the music wrapping around you like a warm embrace. It was a tune she often played, one that had become so familiar that you catch yourself humming it from time to time.

With the tea now steeped, you carefully carried the two cups and the kettle into the living room. Your wife was seated at the low table, her fingers gracefully plucking at the strings of the guzheng, lost in the flow of the music. You placed one of the cups near her, the delicate clink of porcelain barely interrupting her concentration. Leaning down, you pressed a soft kiss to her cheek, and she giggled in response, her fingers briefly faltering on the strings.

“Is Xinyi asleep?” you asked as you began to pour the tea into her cup, the warm liquid swirling gently.

“Yes, it was easy today,” she replied, her voice filled with warmth. “She had so much fun at the park… You’re such a good mom.” She chuckled, reminiscing about the joy on your daughter’s face just a few hours ago.

You smiled, feeling a surge of affection as you hugged her from behind, your arms wrapping around her gently as she knelt at the table. You placed a tender kiss on the nape of her neck, and you felt her shiver in response, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “You’re an even better mom,” you whispered, “and the best wife.”

She leaned into your embrace, her body relaxing against yours as she murmured a contented “Mm~” before her focus shifted back to the instrument. You released her, making your way to the couch and sinking into its familiar comfort. You rested your head on the armrest, watching her play, the music filling the room with a sense of peace and belonging.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” you said, your voice low and filled with emotion. You smiled, feeling your eyelids grow heavy as the music lulled you into a state of deep relaxation. The sound of her playing, her voice humming along, was like a lullaby, soothing and familiar.

When you opened your eyes, everything had changed. The cozy living room with its warm lighting and familiar comforts was gone. Instead, you found yourself lying on a tiny twin mattress in a college dorm, facing a woman whose face was blurry. You could see her black hair cascading over the pillow, her eyes closed in peaceful slumber.

Despite the shift in surroundings, you felt an overwhelming sense of love and contentment. The comforter was pulled up to your chins, but you knew that you were both naked beneath the sheets. You reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Your heart was doing flips–you swore she must’ve heard because she spoke up!

“Mm~ what’s your happiest memory?” she purred, her voice soft as she nuzzled into your hand, her smile evident even with her eyes still closed.

“My happiest memory?” you repeated, considering the out-of-the-blue question. Your hand gently caressed her chin with your thumb as you thought. “I think… I think it’s happening right now.”

She chuckled softly, and the sound was like music to your ears. “Is it because we just fucked?” she teased, playfully slapping your chest. The outlandish accusation made you laugh in disbelief

“No~!” you huffed, trying to keep a straight face, though you couldn’t quite hide your smile. “I’m just so in love with you,” you confessed, pulling her closer onto your bare chest. Your arms wrapped around her, holding her securely as she instinctively nuzzled closer, seeking to melt into you.

“Every moment with you is my favorite memory… It’s…” You paused, searching for the right words to convey the depth of your feelings. “It’s pure bliss,” you finally said, your voice barely more than a whisper as you leaned down to place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Wow…” Jihyo sat there, momentarily speechless. Her wide eyes reflected a mix of disbelief and curiosity. “That was your dream?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes!” you exclaimed, leaning forward in your seat. “It was like a dream within a dream. I could feel everything so vividly, and it hurt so much when I woke up, like I’d lost something real.”

Jihyo shook her head in amazement, taking in your words. “No, yeah, that’s crazy! I can barely remember my dreams, and if I do, they’re nothing like that—half the time they don’t even make sense,” she said with a laugh.

You chuckled along, feeling the tension ease as the conversation shifted to lighter topics. The two of you finished your coffee, chatting about the latest gossip, upcoming events at the café, and Jihyo’s plans for the weekend. It was easy to get lost in the rhythm of the conversation.

As you were wrapping up your conversation, Jihyo suddenly glanced at her phone, her eyes widening slightly. “Hey, y/n-ah, don’t you have work soon?” she asked, tilting her head to the side with a playful smirk.

“Oh shit!” you blurted out, quickly checking your watch. Time had slipped away from you in the café. You jumped up from your seat, fumbling for your wallet. After handing Jihyo some money (with a little extra for the excellent company), you grabbed your briefcase and semi-shouted a quick, “Thank you!” to both Jihyo and Dahyun, who was working at the cash register with a knowing smile.

You made your hurried escape, the sound of the café’s lively chatter fading behind you. As you rushed toward the door, you slid past another customer entering the café. Just as you brushed by, bells rang out.

Something about the sound made you pause. You turned your head briefly to glance at the person you had just rushed by, catching a glimpse of her dark hair as she hesitated for a moment, then continued into the café.

“Hi, welcome in!” you heard Dahyun greet her warmly, her voice muffled by the distance.

But you were already moving again, lightly jogging away in a desperate attempt to make it to work on time. Yet, as you hurried down the street, something nagged at the back of your mind. The bells you’d just heard—those weren’t the usual café bells. They had a different tone, a different resonance, almost like the bells you had heard somewhere… before.

You shook your head, trying to focus on the task at hand. There was no time to dwell on it now.

~ 

You finished work a bit earlier than usual, it was a rare occurrence. Leaning back in your chair, you loosened your tie, allowing yourself a deep, weary sigh. Between meeting with patients, sending medication forms for approval, and still being in school to pursue your doctorate, free time was a luxury you barely enjoyed. But today, you decided to treat yourself.

You scrolled through a delivery app, finally settling on your favorite dishes. As you added items to the cart, you thought of Momo. She was probably still at your place, taking care of Bread, and you were sure she wouldn't expect you back so early. You added a few of her favorite items to the order

You trudged home with bags of food in hand, you felt the weight of the day slowly lift off your shoulders. The familiarity of home was just what you needed. Finally reaching your apartment, you nudged the door open with your foot.

“I’m home~” you called out, your voice echoing through the hallway. “Momo, I brought food,” you added, setting the takeout bags on the kitchen counter before kicking off your shoes.

Momo’s teasing voice rang out from the living room, “Home early? You get laid off or something?”

You rolled your eyes playfully as you unpacked the food. “Hey, if I get laid off, then you suffer too, Miss Dogsitter,” you shot back with a grin. “Well, whatever, I brought you jokbal.”

Her eyes doubled in size as she peeked into the bags. “You’re the best boss ever,” she declared, her excitement evident as she started unpacking the food.

You knelt down to the ground, your heart warming as Bread hopped over to you, his tail wagging so furiously you were surprised it didn’t fly off. “Hi, baby~~!” you cooed, scratching behind his ears as he licked your face in greeting.

Momo, already impatiently digging into the food, glanced over at you. “You okay? How was work? You kinda look like shit,” she remarked, her voice muffled by a mouthful of food.

“Oh, wow thanks,” you replied, giving her a gentle nudge. “But yeah, I’m good. Just a bit mentally exhausted. I can’t seem to get a good night’s sleep lately.” You sighed, walking over to your living room and settling onto the couch with your food. “Work was fine, though. I actually finished up a bit early, which is why I was able to grab this before the place closed.”

Momo plopped down beside you, still chewing. “Oh! I bought you some beer and soju,” she said, swallowing her food. “I know you’ve been having those dreams, and I heard alcohol affects your REM cycle. Maybe it’ll stop the dreams? It’s not—or shouldn’t be—a permanent fix, but I thought maybe tonight you could use a break and get some better sleep.” She smiled at you, her eyes filled with genuine concern.

You paused, considering her suggestion. “Ah~ that’s not too bad of an idea. It is Friday, after all, so maybe I should try that tonight,” you agreed, digging into your samgyupsal.

After you two finished eating, Momo insisted on cleaning up while you headed to the shower. The hot water cascaded over you, washing away the stress of the day. When you emerged, the scent of food was replaced by the faint aroma of soju and beer. Momo had laid out an impressive selection on the table, and you couldn’t help but smile at her thoughtfulness.

You threw on a hoodie and joined Momo on the couch. She’d put on a random K-drama. The two of you chatted about anything and everything, the conversation flowing easily as the alcohol took the edge off. By the end of the night, you were both pretty drunk, laughter filling the small apartment as you reminisced about old memories and whatever the hell was on your mind.

When the hour grew late, Momo helped you into a makeshift couch bed, tucking you in. “Alright, get some sleep,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’ll be right next door if you need anything.”

You mumbled a sleepy ‘thank you’ as she quietly let herself out, heading to her apartment just next door. The room felt warm and cozy, the alcohol buzzing pleasantly in your veins as you drifted off, thinking that maybe tonight, you’d finally get a peaceful night’s sleep. Momo had said that alcohol could affect your REM sleep, meaning you wouldn’t dream—or at least, you wouldn’t remember your dreams. Right? It sounded like exactly what you needed. No more strange visions, no more waking up with a sense of longing. Just sleep. Right!?

But you were wrong.

Out of all the dreams you’d had, this one stood out the most.

Feudal Japan, Taisho Era

For as long as you could remember, your life had been defined by a single purpose: to protect the princess of Japan. These were the direct orders given to you by Lord Chou, the man who had rescued you from the wreckage of your past.

You were just a child, barely five years old, when Lord Chou found you. Cowered in a corner, knees drawn to your chest, you wept as your parents' lifeless bodies lay before you. Raiders had slaughtered them, leaving you orphaned and alone. Lord Chou, who had killed the raiders, initially intended to leave you there, a mere child of poor merchants with no future to speak of. But then, something caught his eye—a samurai sword lying beside your father’s body.

With a furrowed brow, he studied you for a moment before speaking the first words that would change your life forever: “From now on, you will be my daughter’s protector. Dedicate your life to her.”

And so you did. From that moment on, every breath you took was in service to those five words. You trained relentlessly, honing your skills until you were one of the finest samurai in all of Japan, sworn to protect Princess Chou with your life.

~

It was the night before a raid, and the atmosphere in the camp was thick with tension. You and your fellow samurai had been informed that you were outnumbered, 80 samurai against an entire army. Death was not just probable; it was certain. But you were not afraid. This was the life you had signed up for, a life that had been gifted to you as a second chance.

You knew what you had to do. But before the sun rose and the battle began, there was one person you needed to see—one person you had to say goodbye to.

The guards at the palace entrance let you in without question; it was not unusual for you to visit the princess at odd hours, checking in on her safety. Tonight, though, was different. As you approached her quarters, dressed in a simple yogi, you felt the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

“Chou-sama, may I come in?” you called softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” came the familiar voice from beyond the tatami door. The soft glow of an oil lamp illuminated the silhouette of the princess, her figure graceful and serene.

You slid the door open, revealing the princess still adorned in her elegant jūnihitoe from today’s farewell ceremony, a sight that made your heart ache with unspoken emotion. She looked up at you with a polite smile, though her eyes held a hint of curiosity.

“Hello, Chou-sama. I apologize for the late meeting,” you said, bowing deeply, your forehead nearly touching the floor.

She tilted her head slightly, her smile gentle. “Do you need anything, y/n-san? It’s quite late.”

“Again, I apologize for the intrusion,” you began, sitting up from your bow. “I am aware of the hour, but I wanted to say goodbye. I leave at daybreak, and I fear this may be our last time speaking.”

Her face softened, her eyes widening in shock. You had known Princess Chou since you were children, she was always a bubbly and mischievous spirit. (you would usually always take the blame for her.. Unless of course they caught her red-handed) But about 5 years ago when she turned 13, the weight of her responsibilities had turned her serious, her carefree demeanor replaced by a stoicness that rarely broke.

“I see...” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Princess, that is all I wished to say. Thank you for allowing me to be by your side all these years. I owe my life to you and your family,” you said, bowing once more as you prepared to take your leave.

“Tzuyu,” she suddenly announced.

You paused, sitting back on your heels as you looked at her in confusion.

“My name is Tzuyu,” she repeated. “Please, call me that.”

In all the 13 years you had served her, you had never known her first name. It was not unusual, given your status as a samurai, once a mere peasant. “It’s a beautiful name... Tzuyu,” you said, the name foreign on your tongue as it seemed disrespectful.

Her tone sharpened, though not unkindly. “Are those your final words to me? Or is there more you wish to say?”

She had always been perceptive, reading your body language and the emotions you struggled to conceal. Your heart ached with the weight of everything you had left unsaid, and your eyes flashed with a sadness you could no longer hide.

“Go on, tell me,” she urged, her gaze softening as the stoic mask she wore began to crumble.

Taking a deep breath, you met her eyes. “You gave me a reason to live, a purpose that has defined my existence. I have gladly dedicated my life to you, which is why I am honoured to die for you. From the moment we met, I was prepared to sacrifice my life for yours. But while I am unafraid to face death, I am terrified of leaving you behind. You are the only person I have final words for, the most important person in my otherwise meaningless life.”

Her expression remained composed, but you could see the glossiness in her eyes as she listened to your words. “I could speak to my father,” she bargained, her voice monotone. “If you die, who will be my protector?”

“Cho-.. Tzuyu... this is something I must do. It is my duty, the vow I made to your father. I cannot dishonour that promise,” you replied, your heart sinking as the reality of the situation settled in.

“I see,” she said, though her tone betrayed the emotions she struggled to suppress.

“Promise me that you’ll come back alive?” She whispered looking at the tatami mat below her

“I promise I will fight until my last breath to return to you” You said trying to assuage her worries, knowing that survival was futile. She caught it too.

A heavy silence fell between you, both of you lost in thought, searching for the right words to say.

“Do you believe in reincarnation?” she asked suddenly, her voice breaking the silence.

“Yes... I believe I do,” you answered, surprised by the sudden question.

“Then promise me that you will find me in the next life. Promise me that you’ll never leave my side, that we’ll live as normal civilians, free from war,” she said, her voice quivering with vulnerability.

For a moment, the room was silent, her request hanging in the air. Finally, you nodded, your voice steady as you replied, “Yes, Tzuyu, I promise. A life where war does not exist, where you need no protection, and I can live peacefully by your side.”

Tears began to spill down her cheeks, the facade of the princess melting away to reveal the woman beneath. The woman you have loved for years. The woman that you’ll love in each lifetime–each timeline. “Kiss me, please. That is an order,” she whispered desperately as her voice broke.

You got up and you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to hers in a kiss that was both tender and desperate, a culmination of years of unspoken feelings. That night, your bodies blended into one, a final act of love and devotion before the sun would separate you forever.

~

The clang of steel echoed around you as you fought relentlessly on the battlefield. Your sword clashed with that of an opposing soldier, your movements swift and precise. With a final thrust, you ended his life, but before you could even take a breath, a sharp pain shot through your back, spreading to your chest.

An arrow.

You gritted your teeth, trying to focus through the searing pain, but another arrow followed. Then another. And another. And another. Four in total, each one piercing through your back and exiting through your chest.

Cowards.

You staggered, blood seeping through your armor, staining the ground beneath you. With every step, your vision blurred, but you kept moving, refusing to fall. The weight of your promise to Tzuyu was the only thing keeping you on your feet. But your body could only endure so much, and eventually, it gave out. You collapsed harshly onto the ground, the earth cool against your burning skin.

As you lay there, the world around you seemed to fade away. The sounds of battle grew distant, and all you could think of was her.

Tzuyu.

Her name was a chant in your mind, a desperate plea that echoed in the void of your fading consciousness.

Tzuyu.

You had promised her, but now you were dying, unable to keep your word. The regret was a weight heavier than any armor, crushing your spirit even as your body lay broken.

Tzuyu...

I’m sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t return.

The darkness began to close in, your vision narrowing to a single point before it, too, disappeared. The battlefield, the pain, the regret—all of it vanished into nothingness.

And then, with a jolt, you woke up.

Instead of waking up in your bed,

You woke up on a sandy shore, face down, the gritty texture of the sand pressing against your skin. Your heart pounded in your chest as you jolted awake, not a single ounce of pain surging through your body. Confusion clouded your mind as you pushed yourself up, scanning the unfamiliar surroundings.

The sea whispered softly against the shore, its rhythm almost hypnotic, but your focus quickly shifted to the figure standing not too far from where you had been laying. It was a woman. She was sitting while watching the waves, her long, dark hair swaying gently in the breeze. Something about her presence felt achingly familiar.

You got to your feet, the sand shifting beneath you as you cautiously made your way toward her. As you approached, you could feel your heart racing, a strange mixture of hope and fear building inside you. You sat down beside her, your gaze fixed on the horizon where the sky met the sea.

“What’s your name?” her voice was soft, almost ethereal, as she finally spoke.

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with possibilities, before you answered, “y/n. What’s yours?” Your eyes remained locked on the scenery before you, afraid to look directly at her, afraid to confront the truth.

“It’s.. Tzuyu,” she replied, her voice carrying a weight of unspoken memories.

The name struck you like a bolt of lightning. You turned to look at her, your eyes wide with shock as if the final piece of a complex puzzle had just fallen into place. She mirrored your expression, her own eyes widening in recognition.

“It’s you!?” you both exclaimed in unison, the disbelief in your voices quickly dissolving into laughter, tinged with the relief of finally understanding.

“You’re the girl in my dreams?” you whispered, your voice trembling as you spoke. Tears began to well up in your eyes, and despite your best efforts, they started to stream down your face. You tried to smile, but the overwhelming emotions made it difficult.

“It seems so,” she replied, tears trailing down her own cheeks. “Each day I wake up missing you. I’m just… I’m just really… happy to see you, y/n!” Her voice cracked with emotion as she threw her arms around you, pulling you into a tight, desperate embrace.

“Me too, Tzuyu,” you murmured, your voice breaking as your own emotions poured out. Tears fell freely from your eyes, soaking into her shoulder. “Every morning it hurts to wake up without you.”

Tzuyu sobbed quietly into your shoulder, her body trembling against yours as if holding on for dear life. Her grip tightened, her fingers digging into your back as though afraid you might disappear if she let go.

“I just… I’m sorry—I can’t seem to remember you,” she whispered, her voice cracking with frustration and sorrow. “No matter how much I try, no matter how much I write or draw… I can’t seem to—” Her voice broke, and she buried her face deeper into your shoulder, her tears soaking through your shirt.

You felt your heart twist, a sharp pang of sadness cutting through the warmth of the moment. You gently  patted her back, trying to comfort her, though you knew the weight of what she was saying. “I know, Tzuyu,” you whispered softly. “I don’t know how.. but we’re here together now. That’s what matters.”

She sniffled, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze, her eyes still glossy with unshed tears. 

“Can you remember anything before you came here?”

You furrowed your brows trying to remember, “Hmm. The last thing I remember before showing up here was… I think I was a samurai?”

Tzuyu’s eyes widened in surprise, her breath hitching slightly as your words sunk in. She gazed at you as if the pieces of a puzzle were slowly clicking into place. “You were… my protector?” she asked, her voice trembling with both wonder and disbelief.

You nodded slowly, the memories rushing back in vivid flashes—armor, sword in hand, standing at her side in a life long past. “Yes, Chou-sama.” You chuckled in disbelief and more tears trailed down your cheek as you smiled so brightly

Tzuyu’s eyes filled with tears again, but this time they were different—tears of recognition, of understanding, of something deeper than memory alone could explain. She cupped your face in her hands, her touch tender as she studied your features like she was trying to memorize every detail.

“I think… I think I kind of remember now,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “Not everything, but pieces… glimpses of you. Moments and memories with you” She laughed softly through her tears. “It sounds crazy, but I think I’ve been searching for you across lives… across timelines”

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. All the moments you’ve shared with her flashed in your mind– finally remembering. “I’ve been searching for you too. And somehow, we always find each other.” You brought your hand up to gently wipe a tear from her cheek. 

“Do you think,” she anxiously began “that whenever we leave this place, do you think we’ll just forget?” she said softly, barely above a whisper

There was a pause in the air. As if you both came to the harsh realization that you’ll just be left with the longing for each other.

“I don’t want to forget.”

“What if we tried to think of a way to remember each other?” She began as if a light bulb appeared above her head “Like hmm… do you have a pen or–”

But before she could finish, something strange began to happen. The shore around you started to stretch, elongating in a way that defied all logic. The distance between you and Tzuyu grew longer and longer, pulling her away from your embrace as if some unseen force was tearing you apart.

“Wait! No-! y/n!” she cried out, her voice filled with desperation as she reached out for you. She got up and  tried to run toward you, but the distance only increased, the shore stretching endlessly between you.

“Tzuyu!” you shouted back, your voice breaking with panic. You ran toward her as fast as you could, your hand outstretched, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t reach her. The tears in your eyes blurred your vision, but you could still see her hand reaching out for you.

“My name is Tzuyu! Please.. please don’t forget me!” she yelled, her voice trembling as she fought against the ever-expanding distance.

“y/n! It’s y/n!” you screamed, your voice echoing across the shore as you stretched your hand toward her. You were so close, almost touching her fingers—

But then you woke up.

You shot up from your couch, your heart hammering in your chest. Tears flowed down your face, the remnants of the dream still clinging to your mind like a fading mist. The emptiness beside you was unbearable, the longing for her presence too much to bear.

You were back in reality, but the pain was still there, fresh and raw, as if the dream had torn open a wound you didn’t even know you had.

“No..wait..” you trembled as tears blurred your vision “No!” you yelled in frustration causing Bread to shoot his head up from his bed that was placed next to the couch (Thanks Momo)

“What... what, god..fuck, what was her name!?” you hyperventilated  as you looked at your hand that almost touched hers

“Fuck..!” you sobbed “Why can’t I remember her face? Or her name?!” frustration spilled out of you as everything seemed to be on the tip of your tongue yet unable to grasp it

~

The dreams stopped happening. 

Looking back in hindsight, at the time they were 

Frustrating.

Annoying.

Pesky even.

But now?

More than anything, you missed her—the girl who had once haunted your nights and now left your days feeling empty

To escape the aching void she left behind, you threw yourself into work, burying the longing under piles of paperwork and endless meetings.You even paid Momo ‘overtime’ as you decided to work 12-hour shifts from time to time each week. She never asked why you were suddenly working twelve-hour shifts, though the concern in her eyes said enough..

You even confided in Jihyo about the dreams—or the lack of them. She suggested you try everything from ‘shifting’ podcasts to ‘lucid dream’ vibrations on YouTube, but nothing worked. The harder you tried to dream, the more elusive sleep became.

One weekend, you overslept for an alarming number of hours. Momo let herself into your apartment to do a ‘wellness check’. Bread’s excited barks greeted her at the door, tail wagging so hard it looked like he might take off.

“y/n, you okay? It’s Momo, I’m worried” she announced making her way through your apartment while petting Bread.

She opened up your bedroom door and was greeted by a groggy you(alive and well)

“Hmm~?” you mumbled “Momo? What are you doing here? Are you okay?” You said as you plopped back into bed, stretching like a lazy cat

“Am I okay?” she huffed. “You weren’t responding to my texts like you usually do, you vampire! It’s almost 12:45!”

“12:45?!” You shot up, reaching for your phone in disbelief–blinking a couple times to focus your eyes. Sure enough, the screen glowed back at you with the time—12:37 pm.

“Yes, idiot!” she exclaimed, rolling her eyes. “Whatever—I'm just glad you're okay. Seems like Bread’s happy you’re okay too.” she said as Bread made his way onto your bed, licking your face

“Ah~ hi baby~! Good mo- afternoon~!” you cooed at him “ Sorry for worrying you Momo, I just took melatonin a bit too late I think” you said as you shifted your focus to Momo

“Don’t worry, maybe as a thank-you, you should take him on a walk today– seems like you need the fresh air more than me” she chuckled as she settled down on the foot of your bed

“Yeah that seems like a good idea, feel like I lost half my day” you rubbed the back of your neck in embarrassment

“Yeah, well.. you kinda did!” she teased

~ 

After cooking bre..lunch with Momo, you got ready for whatever was left of the day and leashed up Bread. You  headed out towards the park hoping that it would clear your mind

As you made your way to the crosswalk that was in the direction of the park you usually went to, you noticed a woman on the bus. You recognized her from somewhere. Your soul pulled you to go to her but she was in the lane that was turning left. 

She met your eyes and jolted towards you as the turn light turned green, causing your body to also jolt forward… only to be stopped by the cars that were driving in front of you.

Something inside of you needed to see her– yearned for her.

So you took the risk. You picked up Bread and weaved through the traffic while multiple cars honked at you.

You made it across the (seemingly) endless crosswalk, the bus she was in made a right turn and you watched her as she locked eyes with you from the back window/door of the bus as she faded into a silhouette 

Defeated and broken.

You made your way to the park. You found a bench and sat down, letting Bread wander within the limits of his leash while you sank into your thoughts. Time seemed to blur as you replayed the fleeting moment over and over in your mind, wondering why it hurt so much.

The leash tugged at your hand, snapping you out of your thoughts. You looked up to see Bread straining toward another dog across the park. Your eyes followed the leash to its owner, and there she was—the woman from the bus, walking two dogs of her own.

Your body moved on its own. Like she had some sort of magnet pulling you.

You finally reached her. She was a distance away but it was her. It was for sure, the woman from the bus.

Bread noticed the two dogs and pulled you closer and closer to her before reaching them.

The three of them began sniffing each other and you politely said “Oh he’s very curious, sorry” You gaze focused on the dogs, trying your best to mask the turmoil inside you

“It’s okay,” she let out “they are too”

Awkward silence hung between you, the kind that feels heavy with unspoken words. You finally broke it, the question bursting out before you could stop it.

“Have we met before?”

She tilted her head slightly, as if trying to recall. “I think… maybe… Oh—! You’re the one that bumped into me at the bookstore!” she exclaimed quietly.

A tinge of sadness settled in your heart, as if that wasn’t the right answer, or maybe it was just too mundane to explain the ache in your chest. “Oh—! Yeah, that’s right… sorry about that again.” You chuckled, but it was hollow, devoid of real humor.. You swore it wasn’t that..Or maybe it was just that. Was it?

Silence hung in the air after she whispered a quiet “it’s okay”

“Well, I'll let you get on your way. Thanks for letting Bread meet them” You said as you fought back tears before (quite literally) tugging Bread away

“No problem, I thank you too..” she called after you, her voice tinged with a sadness that matched your own.

You two began to part ways

Why did your heart hurt so bad? Why does it feel like the Earth itself is laying on your chest right now?

Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you fought tooth and nail to keep walking away, lightly tugging on Bread’s harness as he also wanted to go back

You were almost to the turn out of the park before you heard a voice yell a familiar name

“Tzuyu!” 

You froze, turning around slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. There she was. The lost memories of her rushed back into your mind. The woman from the bookstore, the bus, your dreams. Tears streaked her face, but she was smiling—a radiant, beautiful smile that lit up her entire face.

“My name is Tzuyu!” she said again, her voice trembling with emotion, a laugh escaping her lips as another tear raced down her dimpled cheek.

You felt your own smile forming, though it felt awkward and lopsided, as if you weren’t quite sure how to use your face anymore. “Tzuyu-ya!” you called back, your voice cracking with emotion.

“I feel… I feel like I know you!” you said, the words tumbling out of you, raw and desperate.

Her smile grew even wider, if that was possible. “I.. I feel the same way!” she replied, walking closer to you with each step.

“I think we finally found each other, Tzuyu.” You began closing the distance between you two

A tear slipped down her cheek, but she was smiling, a smile that spoke of happiness, of a future you could finally share.

“I’m so glad,” she whispered, stepping closer, her arms wrapping around you in a tight, desperate embrace. “I’m so glad I found you.”

You held her close, feeling her warmth, her heartbeat against yours while tears streamed down your face. The world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you, together at last.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt at peace. The dreams, the longing, the months of searching—they had all led you here, to this moment, to her.

Finally, after all this time, you were home.

[danibee33]

The Queen’s Guard

*COD medieval au - Simon Riley x reader

cw: arranged marriage, dark themes, attempted sa & non-graphic sa but pls *read at your own discretion*, gore/violence, sexual themes, etc.

word count: 1.1k

“Again.”

You can’t help but to flinch at the sound of swords being drawn; it rings in your ears, echos in the recesses of your brain. The piercing, metallic clangs resound throughout the room-

How long had you been here, anyway? Judging from the sunlight that peers through the high transom windows, its golden rays giving the great hall an ethereal sort of glow, it must be nearing time for dinner-

“I’ve seen enough, thank you.”

With a dismissive wave, you rise from the bronze throne and turn on your heel, eyes focused straight ahead, fixated on the intricate carvings in the doors, your escape just within reach-

“Your Grace..”

General Leon’s voice is laced with exasperation and warning, and your long history with him is the only reason you halt, your handmaid nearly bumping into you as you turn again- the young woman struggling to rearrange the ridiculous train on your gown as the man speaks,

“You cannot continue on without a Queen’s Guard- His Grace demands the position be filled.”

Oh, of course. How thoughtful of your kind husband. The husband who only sees you when the physicians deem you fertile enough to produce an heir. The husband who you’re not even sure could pick your face in a crowd because he only ever fucks you from behind, your face pushed down into the animal furs beneath you.

The husband who killed your last guard, gods rest his soul.

Yes, I’m sure he’s very concerned for my safety..

You give a heavy sigh, fighting the urge to roll your eyes as you feel the placating smile tug at your lips; the one you’re so, so good at. The practiced smile that puts everyone in the room at ease, the one you’ve perfected in your relatively short existence of being groomed for this very life.

The life everyone dreams of, a life of royalty, of the highest privilege and power- how little they truly know.

“Of course, please, let us meet the next one then.”

Taking your place upon the throne once again, you sit properly, prim and demure, just like you were taught. The very picture of perfection in your emerald colored silks, not a single hair out of place-

Yet, inside, you were wasting away, your thoughts boiling and raging, your anger smoldering just under the surface, like a vein of coal in the earth that’s been lit aflame- the embers never dying, but never able to turn into the inferno they so wishe to be.

You don’t bother to spare your gaze when the doors open with a low groan, the quiet footfalls that enter the space only really given away by the shifting of chainmail and armor.

They’re confident strides, you notice- long and steady, and without even seeing him yet, you can feel the energy shift around you, his presence seeming to fill every available void,

“Ser Simon Riley, Your Grace.”

With one look, you’re utterly struck by the imposing man walking towards you- shoulders and hips swaying with each deliberate step, left hand resting lazily on the hilt of his long-sword.

His armor plates are dark, obsidian in hue, so different from the usual flashy silver you see everywhere you look. He is a looming shadow in front of you, somehow as wide as he is tall, if that were possible- and his eyes. The skin around them have been smudged with kohl, making the mottled amber of his irises look preternatural, his unmoving gaze entirely focused on you, even when he bows,

“Your Majesty.”

Your mind screams danger, much like it would if a fully grown wolf had just sauntered through the doors, looking for its next meal- and yet, for as much fear as he inspires, there’s something that draws you in- like a siren singing to sailors lost at sea.

Returning his gesture, you gently nod, holding his eyes until the General calls him back to assume a fighting stance; and even then, you swear you see his head tilt just so, just enough to flash you an arrogant look as the guard takes his place across from him. Ser Simon must easily stand a head and a half taller than the other man, you think, his figure even more impressive than it was before.

The men exchange nods before drawing swords, their dance beginning the same as all the others, assessing and calculating each other until the guard makes the first move-

The heavy whoosh of his blade is dodged with little effort, the giant wraith of a man moving far faster than any of you expected. He gracefully ducks under the other’s still outstretched arm, placing himself in the perfect position to swing his own sword towards his opponent's exposed neck- a maneuver surely meant to behead if this were anything other than a mock duel.

“Reset-”

“No.” You stand abruptly, stepping down from the throne much to your own surprise, “Ser Simon, what experience do you have as a Royal Guard?”

“Your Grace, this is-”

With a raised hand, you quiet the General, watching the mysterious knight sheath his sword once more, bowing again as he faces you,

“None, Your Majesty.”

Well, at least he’s honest.

“What experience do you have then?”

His head tilts to the side, and you watch the other guards tense when he takes a single step closer, those damned eyes gleaming down at you with a hunger you’ve never quite seen before,

“Battle, Your Grace. I’ve seen far more than most.”

This time, it’s you moving towards him, and when you step closer, the Kingsguard follows suit, though it seems nothing goes unnoticed by the towering specter.

“Well, Ser, I do not go into battle.. You might be better suited for my husband’s army, no?”

You watch the very corners of his eyes crinkle slightly, his gaze narrowing in amusement, and you’re positive you would see a devilish smile on his lips if he removed the helmet,

“I might.” He says flippantly, broad shoulders shrugging as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, “But, I came here to serve you, My Queen.”

A deep and burning chill blooms in your core at his words and the resolute way he says them; it lights every nerve on fire, every cell and molecule, every atom in your being vibrating at a frequency you’ve never felt as the title rolls off his gilded tongue.

No, you’ve never met a man quite like this, and part of you questions if he truly is just a man at all- because no man has ever felt like this, no man has ever been able to pick you apart so quickly, make you feel bare with just his gaze alone.

He terrifies you as much as he excites you, and oh, how you’ve longed to feel something other than loathing, and boredom.

There is nothing practiced or placating about the smirk on your lips now as you nod toward your General, your handmaid once again adjusting the cumbersome fabric of your gown as you move forward-

“Well, you’ve gotten your wish, Ser Simon.” You coo as you breeze past him without a parting glance, “General Leon, make sure my guard is taken to his new quarters, will you?”

They fall into a sweeping bow as you exit, a quiet acknowledgement being the last thing you hear before the deep pulsing of your own heartbeat fills your ears.

What in the seven hells have I done..

[chapter 2 >>>]

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Honeymoon

AU Reverse Therapy

Summary: Luka gets the chance to spend a whole month with his beloved Malina. A long time ago, he lived for a whole month with a girl he couldn't love. But he could hate.

Pairing: Chaos!Lamenter/fem!OC/Chaos!Flesh Tearer

Characters: Malina (fem!OC), Luka The Angel (OC Chaos Lamenter), Virgil (OC Chaos Flesh Tearer)

Warnings: yandere, stolkhom syndrome, dubcon, noncon, torture, cannibalism

Word count: 8048

Author's note: I thought I'd remind myself and you that as a Chaos Space Marine, Luka can be quite cruel and terrifying. All scenes with an Imperial soldier will be quite unpleasant. Please be careful.

Song: Garbage - #1 Crush (Nellee Hooper Mix; 2015 Remaster)

Tag List: @druidwolf21, @pluvio-tea, @kit-williams

Luka wanted love. He had been dreaming about this wonderful feeling since he had undergone the reverse therapy. Feeling desire again was akin to bliss and torture at the same time. Of course, the Lamenter understood that as a Space Marine he experienced a much wider range of emotions than mere mortals. He could be a little… uncontrollable.

But he would learn. Luka bitterly regretted what the poor cultist and his two captives had gone through. But now he knew that human women were too fragile and he should not have sex with them for several rounds. And although he did not particularly like it, he also should not drink their blood, no matter how delicious it was. There were plenty of no-man's slaves on board that he could eat. The most important thing was not to harm his beloved.

Beloved. How many feelings and emotions were hidden behind this word. Oh, Luka so hoped that the third girl he found would be the last. His true love, whom he would protect from all the dangers of the world. Mortal men are much weaker than Space Marines. With Luka, the beautiful maiden will feel like she's behind a mountain. All of humanity can roll into the warp with a Corpse on the Throne. But for his beloved, Luka will be a true hero. He will try.

And the Lamenter had better find his maiden as soon as possible. He can't stop thinking about love even during combat. Although shooting Imperial soldiers is quite fun, the siege of heretics was too easy. The Astartes was already starting to get bored while mortals were turning into bloody scraps. And quite tasty. When was the last time he ate a human? It seems like a week ago. Quite a while ago.

"The God-Emperor will guide us, burn heretics!"

Stupid mortals again shout equally stupid words just to keep up morale. In the last couple of minutes, they have not shut up at all. Apparently they are desperate. Luka would like to roll his eyes, but he can't. His hearing caught on the one who was shouting these slogans. The soldier was clearly shouting too much, but his voice was still beautiful.

And the woman was pretty in appearance too. Golden hair, gathered in a high ponytail (had she lost her helmet?), green eyes and a straight nose. A beauty in a word. Luka couldn't help but stare at the girl, and she immediately noticed someone else's gaze and shot at the Lamenter.

"Dirty traitor!"

Luka laughed happily. Usually such a nickname irritated him and mortals always regretted the words they had said earlier. But when this girl said "traitor", it even sounded sweet. Just think, the Astartes didn't know that such pretty girls were being recruited into the Imperial Guard. And was she really supposed to be sent to the army as a tithe?

Well, if the Space Marine tries to be careful and gets to the beauty before the brothers, then she can forget about her terrible past as a soldier. After all, she will have Luka, who will gladly take care of such a cute thorn. Soon she will love him.

A month. He will need only a month.

***

Luka went to his quarters in high spirits after the meeting. Mortals and Space Marines who met him on the way immediately retreated, just to avoid running into him. Sometimes the Lamenter was sad that he was so much feared. Of course, in the past he had done a lot of nasty things, but the same Eurydice was not afraid of him at all. But she, like Virgil, played the mean one and refused the title of "friend".

So be it. And screw what others thought of him. Now the Astartes could not think about anything except the results of the meeting. Bakh joined other Red Corsairs as support for the siege of the forge world Dominica VII. While other Huron forces fought in Malestorm, a small part was ordered to ravage Segmentum Obscurus. Not the most prestigious occupation, but additional resource extraction for the forces of Chaos is also important. Well, demoralizing the forces of the Imperium on the other side of the Rift could be fun.

Besides, it was in this segmentum that Malina lived. Luka now did not regret at all that he was not fighting the main fleet of Huron Blackheart. Although he should not have been fighting now. Half of the Space Marines were just right for a siege that should have lasted at least a month. A quick victory. And if Luka did not have a chance to be on the battlefield, then Virgil was preparing to set foot on the ground right now. And that meant only one thing.

He would finally be alone with Malina. Of course, the Lamenter had plenty of time to spend with the girl alone. And the Flesh Tearer, if he wanted to feel a woman's affection, did it at night and when Luka was absent. Whatever you say, but they were a great team. And yet the Astartes could not calm his jealousy and dreamed of being alone with his beloved for at least three days. And here is a whole wagon of time. If earlier Luka was sulking that he would not be able to torment the Imperials, now he was beaming with delight.

The young man, despite his excitement, slowly opens the door, trying not to scare Malina. She was already awake, finishing washing the floors around the room. Luka could not help but smile at such a picture. The girl was such a hard worker, although she might not clean so often due to her situation. But Malina liked to live in cleanliness. Probably because she herself is pure.

“Oh, you're back already.” - the girl leaned the mop against the wall, smiling embarrassedly. - “How good that I just managed to wash everything. Hope you are doing well?”

She always asked if the space marine was fine, how his day went. None of the mortals in the service of the Emperor allowed themselves such antics. None of the heretics were suicidal to ask about such things. Luka didn't think that this was what he would miss in life. Malina treated him like a man. No, not like that, he was above mortal men (women are beautiful as they are). She treated Luka as if he were her husband.

"Everything is wonderful. Right now, half of our people will land on Dominica VII to help our brothers. The operation will last for a whole month." - Luka said evasively before breaking into a smile. - "And even though Virgil was sent to fight, I will remain on the ship. So you will not have to be bored."

"Oh, that's good. Otherwise, I would go crazy from loneliness." - the girl shyly plays with a lock of hair and the Lamenter can't help but look at such a beautiful vision.

It will be a wonderful month.

***

Lucky Luka. He quickly managed to reach the girl and stun her with his own stock. He even managed to take her unconscious body to the ship without incident. And of course, tie her leg to the bed with a chain so that she could not run away. And so that every Space Marine in the room knew who she belonged to. Alas, the Lamenter did not take into account that this beauty would hiss and fight like a wild cat.

“Y-you vile traitors, I will not betray the Emperor! I-I will not become a heretic, I will not become your slave!” - the girl with golden hair spits so hard that drops of saliva get on Luka’s face. He does not like this behavior, but he forgives her. She is scared, she is used to aggression because of her military service. But everything will be fine.

“Do not be afraid, no one will hurt you. I am Luka, I will protect you.” - the young man stretches out his hands, trying to calm the girl like a wild animal. - “I’ll take care of you.”

“That means he’ll fuck you good.” - Folki, sprawled on the bed, cackles vilely and Luka wants to smash his face until it bleeds. - “He’ll spread you out like a whore and scream how much he loves you. That’s the kind of romantic he is.”

“Shut your mouth, you’re in my way.” - Luka grits his teeth, trying not to show the anger on his face. He shouldn’t scare his captive. But, oh, how nice it would be to smash Folki’s face on the floor. To see how his skin cracks like fabric, how his blood spills onto the floor, and his skin turns into a bloody mess. As delicious as a hot stew.

“Really? And I think I’m helping. Look how she’s shaking, it seems like she’s starting to get it.” - the impudent man gets up from the bed, turning to the soldier with a lewd smile. - “Yes, little thing. Chaos Space Marines are such nasty guys that they know what sex is. And if you weren't Luka's pet, I'd fuck you good."

"SHUT UP!" Luka screams with such fury that even the defiant Folki shuts up. The Lamenter can even discern a drop of fear in his eyes. Yes, he likes that. He wish he could squeeze his head so hard that Folki's brains would leak out of every crevice and the fear in his eyes would grow even more. He likes that.

"Shut up, both of you. You're annoying." - the gruff and silent Nerva calls out from his bed, still clutching his personal slave.

The Lamenter only wrinkled his nose. He hated Folki, but his fury was nothing compared to the envy he felt for Nerva. Folki is a rapist, a lover of a good fight and robbery, a vile and disgusting space wolf. He only knows how to test the patience of his brothers.

Nerva was a secretive Raven Guard, a bastard who hid his secret desires. His only weakness was a legless slave he picked up in the lower levels. She was a fragile creature, desperately clinging to her savior. Luka wanted the same. He wanted to be loved.

Bacchus believed that former loyalists should support each other in order to later become full members of the Red Corsairs. Some formed real brotherly bonds, and some a semblance of family with their slaves. Alas, Luka was unlucky with his neighbors. He hated them. The only consolation he wanted was in love, thanks to his newfound feelings.

Unfortunately, his captive did not want to make contact.

“I don’t give a damn, bastards, do you hear me? The Emperor is with me. I will not surrender to you.” - the girl tried to be brave, but tears were desperately flowing down her cheeks. Luka reached out his hand, intending to wipe them away, but the beauty only pushed him away. - “Don’t touch me.”

“How mean you are. I told you that everything will be fine with you. You are just like a thorn.” - The young man grumbled tiredly, leaning towards the captive. - “Hmm, suits you. Now you will be a Thorn.”

“I am not your pet, traitor! My name is Zegentia Gloz, I am a soldier of the 115th regiment of the Imperial Guard. I will not be a slave to heretics.” - pride in her origin smoldered behind the woman’s tongue and she continued to spit at Luka, infuriating him.

She had an ugly name. Mean and rude, unsuitable for a girl. Eurydice Sever was the captain of the ship, a voidborn, ugly woman with dictatorial manners and sadistic tendencies. But she had a beautiful name and that's why Luka liked her, although they had never communicated. And here... no, he would not allow his green-eyed girl to wear such a disgusting name.

"Fine, if not Thorn, then Pet. That's what I'll call you now." - The Astartes does not give the soldier a chance to spew new insults, tying a muzzle on her face. - "It's a very cute name, just right for you. So be a good girl and stop acting so viciously."

Unable to speak or move her limbs, the woman only continued to look angrily at Luka. He only sighed tiredly, remembering "Flower" and "Rain" with pain in his heart. The Lamenter thought that now with experience he would be a better man for beautiful ladies. It turned out that he would have to face other difficulties.

***

“Oh, Luka. I’m so worried about Commissar Cain.” - the girl hugged the book to her chest, looking at Luka with horror. - “He was just surrounded by enemies. I understand that this is only the middle of the book. But some books ended in the middle, and the next 200 pages were devoted to pleading with the Emperor and the hero the book was written about. What if it’s the same here?”

The mourner only pursed his lips, listening to Malina. He was glad that she liked all the books he brought her. Besides, the book about Commissar Cain turned out to be much better than the one about Saint Celestine (he hated it, damn Ignatius). Luka even listened to Malina’s opinion with pleasure.

Although he was not supposed to worry about the hero of the novel, much less a real person. After all, they were fighting on different sides. But seeing the girl’s worries, Luka couldn’t help but worry himself. This commissioner should live a little longer so that Malina doesn't worry in vain!

"Don't worry! You know Commissar Cain and his courage. He got out of so many troubles thanks to his faith in the God-Emperor." - The Lamenter smiled happily at the girl, noting with pleasure how faith in his words appeared on her face. - "He'll get out of this trouble too!"

What is he talking about... if Virgil were here, he would have fallen out of bed laughing. But fortunately, he wasn't here and he has to freeze his ass on the planet while Luka is having fun with Malina. Although reading about Commissar Cain wasn't the best entertainment, the Lamenter still had to admit. He was interested himself.

"You're right, Luka. Of course you're right." - Malina smiled happily and Luka blushed from such praise. - "How could I doubt him. In the end, he dodged a bullet thanks to faith… though.”

The girl moved her fingers and Luka obediently moved closer. To then blush even more from how Malina came closer to his ear. Her whisper and soft voice wrapped around his entire insides. It was so pleasant that the Lamenter almost missed her words.

“Although I’m sure he was just staring at the girl’s ass.”

Luka laughed, amazed by the girl’s words. Malina, embarrassed by her assumption, hid her face in the book, continuing to read. Luckily, a couple of pages later it turned out that Commissar Cain managed to survive. Luka was even happy for this lucky bastard.

***

“Come on, this is very tasty porridge. I bet it’s even tastier than your rations at work.” - Luka holds out a spoon with food to the green-eyed girl’s mouth, waiting for her to finally eat. - “Open your mouth, Pet. You’ll like it.”

But she only turns her head away, hoping that the Lamenter won’t see her tears. But he does. The woman clearly wanted to eat, but for the most part she refused to eat. Only sometimes did she obediently allow herself to be fed, when she couldn’t overcome her hunger. Luka saw in her eyes that at such moments she blamed herself. She was ashamed to eat from the hand of a traitor.

On this day, she apparently wasn’t so hungry.

“Well, please, Pet. You’ll agree anyway later. Why not stop acting like that then. Eat.” - Luka pokes the spoon into the woman's lips and she can't take it anymore, throws the spoon away and spits in his face. Again.

"Traitor!" - the woman hisses, but immediately stops short when she sees Luka's angry face. She, like all domestic animals, hides in a corner and whines quietly, afraid to move.

"Yes. Traitor. And I don't regret it at all. I don't regret betraying my order. I don't regret eating my brothers." - The mourner sits down next to the blonde, gently stroking her back while she whines. - "I don't regret eating your comrades. You know, I could have fed you their meat, I have supplies. But I'm giving you porridge."

The man squeezes the woman's shoulder tightly and she gasps in pain. Saliva and snot freely flowed down her chin. She looked simply disgusting. But Luka even liked it. He liked taking care of her. If only she would let him do it.

“Stop being so bad. Stop it or I’ll eat you alive.” - He doesn’t want to scare her, but the Pet has gotten on his nerves. He has to calm her down. - “And stop praying to the Corpse on the Throne, he won’t help you.”

Luka gets to his feet, kicking the bowl of porridge at the woman whining in the corner and sits down on the bed. How hard it was for him with her. Blue eyes catch on Nerva and Yuna hugging. Seeing the Lamenter’s interest, the slave girl clung tighter to the Space Marine, hiding her face. Luka swallowed, seeing such a picture. It was so cute.

“Nerva, mortal women like to be friends and all that, right?” Luka is awkward talking to the silent Raven Guard, but he, as a good soldier, is used to dealing with difficulties. - “Maybe Yuna should become friends with Pet? They’ll have more fun together. Maybe she’ll even behave better.”

“I won’t let Yuna get one step near your whore.” - the black-clad space marine hugs the legless slave tighter, inhaling the scent of her hair. - “This bitch is mad. You shouldn't have picked her up.”

Luka wanted to say something in response. To protect his beloved, but he couldn’t find the words. In truth, he didn’t like calling Pet “beloved.” The nickname didn’t suit her at all. He was already regretting picking her up. But the Lamenter couldn’t just get rid of this woman, could he? She was his responsibility now. Yes, it was hard now. But everything would get better later. It would.

***

“Oh, Luka, you spoil me. The porridge is delicious as it is, you didn’t have to bring chocolate.” - the girl looks at the Lamenter with embarrassment and gratitude. Luka only smiles in response, unable to take his eyes off those wonderful brown eyes. No one has ever looked at him like that in his life and never will.

“Mortals need variety. And you cleaned the room so well last time. And I thought you needed encouragement.”

Of course, it was just an excuse. He really liked spoiling Malina. Doing nice things for her, taking care of her. Yesterday, she dared to sing him a folk song of Astarte despite her embarrassment. It was so wonderfully homely that Luka simply couldn’t help but do something in response.

He couldn’t sing as beautifully as an Astartes. But he could bring chocolate taken from the governor’s palace. Most of these products were stored in the warehouse, waiting for the next Feast. But being one of Bakh's closest Space Marines, Luka could afford himself small liberties. He had been denied such privileges before.

"Well, if you say so." Malina carefully took a bite of the chocolate, savoring the taste. Before giving Luka a sly look. He felt his ears turn red. "But then you should try it too."

Malina held out the chocolate to him, waiting for Luka to take it. He took it. Only instead of fingers, he used his own teeth. The Lamenter felt his cheeks flush even more at the sight of the girl's embarrassment. They looked more like village lovers than a Chaos Space Marine and a prisoner.

"It is indeed delicious." The man leaned towards the girl to leave one small kiss on the cheek, which, however, turns into a scattering. "But you are tastier."

Malina bursts into laughter and Luka only continues to kiss her face harder, like a bird pecking at food. The mourner squeezes the girl in his arms, pressing himself against the girl's chest. The calm heartbeat and ringing laughter indicated that Malina was not afraid of him. No, today she was not afraid. And Luka was ready to drown the entire Imperium in blood so that this miracle would last forever.

***

The ungrateful bitch decided to kill him. She somehow managed to steal his knife. She waited until he and everyone else in the room fell asleep and then attacked him with her weapon. The idiot forgot that she was a captive of a space marine and one blow would not be enough. But the Pet did not even have time to strike when Luka hit her in the face, knocking out several teeth.

“You bitch have completely lost your mind, if you thought about killing me, huh? Huh?” - the man continued to pound into the yielding hips, ignoring the woman’s tears. He himself was crying while using her dry pussy for his pleasure. - “Why? Why? Why did you do this? I cared about you, everything should have been fine. You ruined everything!”

“Are you seriously crying while raping her?” - Folki, like a pervert, watched the entire process, shamelessly jerking off. - “You’re being so pathetic.”

“Shut up! I’m mourning my relationship. A freak like you wouldn’t understand.” - The Lamenter makes a final move, finally spilling his seed inside the screaming woman. Tears roll freely down his face as he looks at the equally tear-stained face. - “You betrayed me. You betrayed our love.”

“I-I only love the God-Emperor. H-he is my strength and f-faith.” - the woman swallows, unable to move. But she still has the strength and audacity to look at Luka. The Lamenter wants to suck out those green eyes. - “I will never love a m-monster like you!”

Luka howls like a wounded animal so loudly that Folki stops satisfying himself, and Nerva covers Yuna’s ears. The young man stops crying. Even though it hurts, it hurts so much. No weapon or poison could hurt him as much as the Pet did. His real heart beats like crazy in agony.

Something breaks in Luka. He can't stand that condemning look anymore. As if in a fog, the Lamenter immediately pounces on the woman and starts sucking on her right eye. The woman, who was trying to act decently just a few seconds ago, is now screaming in pain, begging him to stop.

"Oh, you're such a sick bastard." - Folki tries to act cheeky, but Luka can catch a glimpse of his disgust. If a bastard like him is terrified, then something is really wrong with Luka. Yuna is quietly crying in Nerva's arms and the boy wants to apologize to her for scaring her. But he can't. All his thoughts and thoughts are focused only on the one who betrayed him.

"If you don't want my care, you won't get it. You will not have my love. Do you hear?" - Luka feels the wonderful taste of mucus and blood on his lips and he involuntarily licks his lips. - "If you are not fit to be my beloved, you will be an appetizer."

The woman cries, begging for mercy. But Luka is no longer listening. He does not care.

***

The siege was going well. The Chaos Space Marines continued to capture more and more outposts and send captured resources to the ships. Including slaves, both for hard work and for pleasure. Luka and Virgil's room was one of the best, and the compartment looked tolerable.

And yet the Lamenter could not understand where his neighbors had so much time and, most importantly, energy for torture. The same Virgil also participated in the torture of imperial soldiers and aristocrats in order to suppress waves of anger. But Luka was alien to this. If you torture and kill, then only on the battlefield. It is much more fun than taking slaves to rooms.

But if before Luka only rolled his eyes, now he was grateful to all the sadists around. He was ready to sing their praises. After all, all these cries and pleas scared his sweet Malina so much that she, having only heard them, immediately rushed to Luka. She lay next to him on the bed, seeking protection.

“I know that they are heretics.” - Navina Malina whispers to the slyly grinning Luka in the shoulder, while he stroked her hair. - “But I still feel sorry for them. It hurts.”

She is very kind and merciful. Kinder than Luka. In the old days, he would have pitied the slaves, but now he does not care. Sometimes the Lamenter wondered if maybe he had not gone crazy on that desert planet where he ate his brothers? Maybe he had always been a bad person? But on the other hand, even before the girl called him Angel, he was already going to save her. As well as the children. Maybe he's not so bad after all...

As soon as a woman's scream and the men's laughter resounded in the corridor, Malina pressed herself closer to Luka. The mourner only sighed at the behavior of mortal men. Why do they like to rape different women so much? Why don't they want to find the one and only one they will love.

"Angel, I'm scared." - Malina squeaked like a mouse, placing her palms on the man's chest. Luka swallowed, trying to suppress his growing erection. Of course, he could put his beloved to bed, but that would be disrespectful to her. She was scared as it was. So let her sleep.

Alas, but Luka did not close an eye, watching Malina's peaceful face.

***

“When we’re no longer recruits, I’m going to gorge myself on those governors’ food like crazy.” - Folki picked at his porridge with his fork like a child. He was going to steal the mutton and the wine supplies, but the red corsairs had taken everything. Full members of the squad. The three had served for only a short time and had not yet had time to prove themselves on the battlefield.

“Are you going to become the next Bacchus?” - Luka kicks his helmet into the far corner of the room out of boredom. He snaps his fingers, but the helmet is still in the corner of the quarters. The Space Marine rolled his eyes. He was in no mood to torment the stupid creature. - “Pet, have you lost your fear? Go ahead and bring it.”

“And why not, hm? And anyway, you must have noticed that he gives preference to all former loyalists.” - Folki smirked nasally, watching the Lamenter’s captive. - “Especially the likes of me. He was a Space Wolves himself, haven't you heard?"

"Then why is he called Bacchus?" - Nerva notes, carefully combing Yuna's hair. He had already managed to change her into cleaner, neater clothes, which he had managed to steal. - "It doesn't look like a Fenrisian name."

"No idea. Maybe he got himself a new one. How would I even know?" - Folki bristles like an angry dog, but sighs, settling down on the bed. - "They're moving a new guy in with us."

"What? There's not enough room here as it is, and now we have to put up with another mug?!" - Luka throws the helmet into the corner again like a child, watching as the woman hurried to pick it up. A loud cough and the Pet, understanding the hint, immediately dropped to her knees and crawled on her haunches."

"And the main thing is who exactly." - Folki kicks the Pet that came close, forcing it to crawl a different way. - "My old friend Loki. May the warp eat him, he's mad. And an idiot too."

"Stupider and wilder than you?" - Nerva looked at the space wolf with distrust. Having finished combing Yuna's hair, he kissed the girl on the top of her head. She only closed her eyes. She had been very weak lately. - "It would be easier to kill him."

"It would be better if you all died." - a quiet sound was heard and everyone in the room immediately turned to look at the one-eyed woman leaning over her helmet. She looked at everyone with an angry look. - "Traitors."

Luka clenched his teeth in anger. He immediately jumped out of bed and headed towards the woman, noting with pleasure how she cowered in fear. Now not as bold and tongue-tied as before? The young man grabbed the woman by the leg. Hearing the crunch, he only grinned and threw her to the other end of the quarters like a carcass.

“I don’t understand what else she’s hoping for.” - Luka crunched his head in displeasure before wrinkling his nose. The Pet was so scared that she emptied her stomach. The smell of urine rose in the room. - “How disgusting. Now clean up after yourself.”

The woman was about to take it with a rag, but the Lamenter’s clicking stopped him immediately. The Pet looked at him in fear until Luka nodded towards the mess. “Clean up with your mouth, properly.”

The Imperial soldier began to cry in a hunted manner. Her entire body hunched over, making her resemble the slaves from the lowest levels. But she had not yet become as pathetic as them. At least not yet. Overcoming the nausea, Pet nevertheless dropped to her knees and began to lick her own urine.

“And yet you seemed the most normal of us.” - Nerva looked at the woman’s efforts in surprise, hiding Yuna in his arms as she fell asleep. Luka involuntarily shrugged, ashamed of his behavior in front of the legless girl.

“I hardly torture, unlike many. And anyway, she wanted to kill me. And I gave her a chance.”

“Yes, yes, keep making excuses, little sadist.” - Folki turned away from the disgusting picture to the wall in amazement. Luka himself found what was happening disgusting. But he continued to watch. Since he had ordered Pet to do this, he would continue to watch this mess.

***

Luka loved to watch Malina. How she reads, prays, eats, sleeps. And especially the pleasure she experiences when they have sex. But most of all, the Lamenter loved to watch her take a bath. He never thought that this would capture his brain. But even the first time, when Luka first saw Malina in the water, he could not get rid of this image in his head.

Of course, like any other girl, Malina wanted to be alone with herself. Luka did not mind this. Therefore, most often he just opened the door. And watched the girl bask in the water. How her olive skin blushes from the temperature. How she breathes. How gently she spreads soap and other creams on her skin.

Malina is always beautiful, but especially at such moments.

The Lamenter would like to remain unnoticed so that the girl could rest. But he still could not resist and entered the bathroom, wanting to talk to Malina. Tell a little about the siege of the planet, about the successes in commanding the squad. And of course, the most important thing. To complain.

“Eurydice says that I have to justify the title of captain, can you imagine? I already go to their training and plan boarding tactics when I'm not too lazy. What else does she need?!”

“Maybe you should be a little more serious when you're with your squad.” - the girl suggested, hugging her knees to her chest. - “Well, the last time you were just hanging out on the ship instead of training.”

“Yes, it was so much fun.” - the Lamenter sighed dreamily before looking dejectedly at Malina. - “But I don't want to be serious. The squad will stop loving me.”

“Then don't be.” - the girl shrugged.

“But Eurydice will scold me and the squad won't respect me.” - the man leaned his cheek on the railing like a beaten puppy.

“Then be.”

“How complicated it all is.” - Luka stroked the girl’s fluffy hair, glad that he had not spent an entire hour cleaning the aristocrat’s bathroom in vain. Now Malina, in addition to soap, had a whole set of personal care products. - “And what would you do in my place?”

“Have no idea,” - the girl smiled shyly, causing a response from the Lamenter. - “Unfortunately, they didn’t teach us how to manage an entire squad of space marines on the agro-world. So I’m pretty incompetent in such matters. But perhaps you should listen to Eurydice. Try to find a balance. But still, your subordinates should respect you since you are a captain. And only then love you.”

“You are so smart. I am so lucky to have you.” - Luka admired the girl before his gaze caught on the sponge. - “Let me rub your back.”

“If you wish so.” - the girl awkwardly turned her back to the man and he immediately got down to business. Carefully, just so as not to tear off such lovely skin from the body.

There was something especially intimate in this action. Not just trust. But care. Luka tried to use only a soapy sponge, but the temptation was too strong. The mourner soaped the girl's back with his hand, amazed at how pleasant her skin felt to the touch. How soft it was. Luka snuggled up to Malina, tenderly kissing her shoulder blades.

Maybe they should arrange joint water procedures more often? Next time, Malina could soap Luka's back.

***

“Yeah, that’s it. Good. What an obedient Pet, ha.” - Luka laughs lightly, stroking his mate’s hair. No one in their right mind would think that he’s a vile and mean pervert if they heard his laugh. But here he is. Using his slave’s mouth for sexual pleasure.

He’s already had his fill of her female parts. And besides, he’s torn everything there, causing the Pet to bleed constantly. Both from the inside and the outside. Last time, he bit into her tender flesh so hard that he ended up tearing out a couple of pieces of meat, including a cute button. But he didn’t feel sorry. She didn’t deserve to have this pleasure.

“Take it deeper, stupid. Come on.” - Luka pushes his cock further into her mouth, squeezing her short-cropped hair. In some places, it was torn out to the point of baldness. The pet didn't look its best. There were bruises and black eyes everywhere. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her nose was broken in several places. There were open wounds on her arms and legs. Some of them were already starting to fester.

She looked disgusting, but not yet disgusting enough to start smelling like the Death Guard's abode. In addition, her slippery wet mouth pleasantly wrapped around his huge member. And the one-eyed woman crushing him with her size and saliva was so pathetic that the Lamenter only laughed even more at the sight of her. His balls hit her chin pleasantly.

“And yet once upon a time you prayed to your Corpse on the Throne with this very mouth.” - The Astartes stroked the girl's hair almost tenderly.

Perhaps she has not yet broken completely. Perhaps this slave still has faith in the God-Emperor. To her credit, she had tried to maintain her sanity and loyalty to the Imperium to the end. Even in this hell. And yet, Luka was not about to praise her for it, especially when she sank her teeth into his cock.

“You filthy bitch!” Luka grabbed the woman’s hair so hard he heard it crack. It seemed like another bald spot would appear on her head. Great. Even better, the one-eyed animal screamed in pain, opening her mouth wide just like he wanted. “Don’t think you’ll get away from me. I’ll use every hole of yours if I want.”

And right now, he wanted her mouth, and the Lamenter was not about to deny himself that pleasure. Grabbing the woman’s front tooth, he waited a moment until he saw the realization in her eyes, and pulled it out. As easily as if it were a fake. Pet whined, choking on her own blood.

“p-please, noo.” The woman wheezed in pain, but Luka continued to pull out her teeth with a cold gaze. His cock ached with arousal and he wanted to let his pleasure out. He wanted an obedient mouth and he would get it.

“That’s much better.” Luka smirked at the bloody and toothless woman. Now she wouldn’t be able to bite him anymore. Now she wouldn’t be able to insult him like before. “Now open your vile mouth, stupid slave of the Corpse on the Throne before I pull out something else.”

This time, the Pet obediently opened her mouth as wide as she could despite the heartbreaking pain. It became even more intense as Luka shoved his cock inside. The Lamenter moaned loudly from the intoxicating feeling. No more teeth, only metallic, delicious blood covering his cock.

It felt so good that it took him a little while to cum. The woman, like an obedient slave, swallows his sperm along with his blood. And yet, a few drops still fall on the floor. Without looking at Luka, she immediately begins to lick the floor, causing her tormentor to laugh.

“Wow, you’ve become so smart. Did I really have to treat you like an animal from the very beginning?” - Luka watches with unprecedented sadism as the imperial soldier sheds tears on the cold floor. - “You never deserved the honor of becoming my beloved.”

Unhappy creature. That’s what Luka would have thought earlier, seeing this body writhing in agony. But the young man had already managed to get to know this woman well and knew how rotten she was. He hated her.

***

Luka was in paradise. He couldn't call it anything else. But isn't it paradise? Sitting on the bed while a beautiful girl tries to tame your cock. Malina was too soft and weak, so mostly the Lamenter directed her hips up and down. Up and down.

Her natural lubrication helped the penetration wonderfully. The pleasure that engulfed the girl from head to toe squeezed the walls around the cock as hard as possible. The slurping shameless sounds of flesh on flesh, as well as sighs of pleasure filled the dark room. Pure bliss.

Malina settled her head on Luka's shoulder, unable to cope with the whirlwind of emotions. The Lamenter didn't mind. He wanted to see her soft lips and trembling eyelashes. But if the girl was tired, then it was okay. He would enjoy her sight to his heart's content when they fell asleep together.

The girl seemed to hear his thoughts and slowly raised her head, looking straight into Luka's blue eyes. The man's breath caught at the sight of her.

"You saved me." - Malina carefully grasps the man's chin with her small fingers. And Luka moans from her touch and words. - "You saved me. If it weren't for you, I would have died. I am so grateful. I am so grateful, Angel."

It was too much. Too much even for him. Luka could no longer think normally, speeding up the process. The girl moaned again, but this time fear settled in her eyes. She immediately hid her face on his chest. The mourner only laughed loudly at this. Luka felt drool running down his chin. He probably looked like a madman, but he didn't care.

Yes, he is her Angel, her savior, her lover. No one will take Malina away from him. She will be with him forever. He will take care of it. And all those who want to taste her flesh or offend her can roll into the warp. Luka will gnaw off their legs and arms and make them watch their loved ones die. He will turn them into mincemeat and sew a new cloak for Virgil. Because Malina is only his. Only his.

Luka did not notice how he came. He breathed for a long time, trying to cope with the excitement and evil thoughts. For some time he sat like that, still enjoying Malina's inner flesh. But the Astartes returned to reality again, finally hearing the crying.

“Malina? Hey, hey, what's wrong? What happened?” - Luka knew she was crying. He liked the look of her, but still, he had to calm her down.

“S-sorry, I was just so scared.” - the girl looked at Luka and he saw a waterfall of tears rolling down her cheeks. - “You had such a look.”

“Oh, honey, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I just love you so much that I can't hold back. Your words got me going.”

“Alright. Next time I’ll keep quiet.”

“No, no. Don’t. I want you to say all those sweet things to me. They make me happier.” - Luka gently wipes Malina’s face before letting her lie down on his chest. - “You’re going to say them, right?”

The girl whines on his chest, but nods anyway. Luka smiles and gently kisses Malina’s forehead before running his hand through her dark hair. Poor thing. She’s so easily scared. It’s a good thing the Lamenter saved her and now she’s under his protection.

***

Yuna died. Quietly in her sleep. She did not suffer at all. But the inconsolable Nerva suffered. Luka already regretted his envy of the man, looking at how the Raven Guard sniffed the cut lock of the girl's hair. He felt sorry for his brother. Nerva became even more withdrawn and rude. But most importantly, lonely.

He was similar to Luka in some ways. Unlike Folka, the reverse therapy had a very strong effect on them. They craved love. But the conditions in which they lived did not allow them to have mortal girls. They were too fragile, and the space marines had not yet had time to become a real part of the team.

And still, they could not resist their desire every time. Their call of the heart. Nerva, at least, made sure that Yuna was burned, and not eaten or thrown into a corpse pit. Fortunately, the wild Loki did nothing but sleep. So he didn't try to piss Nerva off. Folki sat silently in the room, trying not to stand out. Even he had gotten used to the legless girl. Without her, the room became completely gloomy. Suffocating.

Luka involuntarily glanced at the one-eyed and toothless woman. She looked back at him like an obedient Pet, smiling like an idiot. Waiting for his orders like a dumb animal. The proud soldier, ready to fight for the Imperium and her loved ones, was gone. The woman Luka had liked in that battle was gone. He didn't miss her. But there was no point in torturing the slave either. She had no place in this quarter.

Having put a chain on the Pet's collar, Luka led her out of the room. She was about to go on all fours, but he forbade her with a gesture. The Lamenter hoped to get to the lower levels as quickly as possible. He couldn't stand her smell any longer. Her gaze. Her presence. Her entire existence was poisoned by him. Luka was not going to pity her. He had been waiting too long for the nightmares about his eaten brothers to stop. He did not need another burden of guilt.

“This is your new home now, Pet.” - Luka unhooks the chain from the collar, but the stupid bitch does not go inside the hall where the unfortunate slaves clung to life. The mourner angrily kicks the woman and she falls forward by inertia. - “Don’t be stubborn, you will like it here. There are the same pathetic slaves here as you.”

But Pet tries to grab the man’s leg, begging with her one eye not to let her go. She tries to say something, but without teeth and with a bitten tongue, she is doing poorly. A month ago, Luka would have been happy with such treatment. But this was not love. Not the one he was looking for. This was animal instinct.

“Let go, worthless.” - Luka hits the woman in the jaw again, causing it to break. The woman screams in pain, rolling on her back. But the Lamenter only turns away from the former Imperial soldier and leaves the lower level. His soul has not become any easier.

He has only gotten rid of the trash.

***

“Luka, do you remember anything from your childhood?” - the girl blinked innocently, clinging to the space marine. Screams were heard again and the frightened Malina, of course, hurried to her savior. And although the screams of the captives quickly died down, the girl was in no hurry to return to bed. Although Luka would not have let her go even if she tried. Perhaps she knew it.

“Not really.” - the man hummed thoughtfully. - “I remember that I had parents. They loved me. I think. I remember our homemade stew. It seemed to me the most delicious in the world.”

“If you bring groceries and a small stove with a saucepan, I can try to cook it.”

“That’s very kind of you. Thank you.” - Luka gently tucked a lock of hair behind the girl’s ear. How lucky he was to have her. - “But most of the memories are lost. Basically, I only remember my training when I was accepted into the ranks of the Lamenters. I was very proud then. I thought I would become a hero.”

He should have continued to play the part, but then again, Malina was naive enough. Luka wasn’t trying too hard, letting the girl believe in the illusion of the loyalist Space Marines. And yet, he felt like he was walking on a dangerous line. He wanted so much to cry on her shoulder.

He could still hear the cries of his brothers at night. He didn’t miss them. He thought they were pathetic. But the Lamenters still wouldn’t let Luka out of their embrace. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t change his armor to the Red Corsairs’?

“But you’re my hero.” - the girl gently strokes Luka’s hair before running her hand down his cheek. Only then did the Space Marine realize he was crying. - “Do you remember the stories your parents told you before bed?”

“No.” - the man looks at the girl, fascinated. Just a couple of seconds ago, he was lamenting the past. Although here it is, the present right before his eyes. Malina is much better than the empty promises and debt that Astartes promised him. That the Imperium promises. Maybe Luka, deep down, regretted that he sided with the traitors. But now, looking at Malina, he understood that he did not.

It was the right decision.

“I can tell you a fairy tale that helped me fall asleep as a child. It is about a little boy who managed to survive in the desert. And all in order to return home. Because a rose was waiting for him there.” - the girl looks closely at Luka and seeing the right answer in his eyes, she finally smiled. - “Well then, listen.”

Malina made a good storyteller. It was as if Luka himself found himself in the desert, overcoming all its difficulties. It was as if he himself was walking on the hot sand, suffering from hunger and heat. And the terrible cold that comes at night. Cruel winds blew on him, and everywhere he could see the corpses of the same weak children like him. Who could not survive the hardships of the radiation desert. Who could not pass the test.

But the boy was able to survive. And despite the curse that came with him. Despite the thirst for blood, he was able to rise to the heights. Only in order to leave this terrible world. To leave behind other children. And return to the rose that had been waiting for him since its birth. Not knowing that such a fragile flower like her needs protection. Needs an Angel.

For the first time in many years, Luka allows himself to fall asleep first. Allows the fairy tale and the wonderful girl's voice to envelop him like a warm blanket. Allows himself to close his eyes and fall asleep. But even in his dreams, Malina is near.

They will always be together.

[sailing-through-hawkins]

once upon a dream

✧ written for 'charm' ✧ word count: 548 ✧ rated: T ✧ cw: none ✧ tags: fairytale au (kinda), knight eddie, evil prince steve ✧ @steddiemicrofic ⁠( ≧∀≦)ゞ✧

"You - saved me."

The fallen prince stares up at Eddie in wonder and confusion, complacent in his arms. His clothes were shredded, the golden crown that used to lay upon his head now in the fiery depths of the chasm behind them, the one he was nearly pushed into by his own soldiers. The sword he wielded against Eddie's blade lies forgotten on the ground.

"Why would you -"

"Should I have left you to the flames," Eddie cuts in with the quirk of his brow, gently pushing the prince back on his feet. "As your loyal guards did?"

The prince blushes, shakes his head, the evil spark in his eye replaced with awe as he looks to Eddie. His hands are still pressed against Eddie's chest. "But I hurt so many people. You should have vanquished me, why..."

"I am not like you, prince. I do not abandon those in need of my aid." Eddie declares, stepping away, watching as the prince nearly stumbles into following him, held back by his own wince.

"It's just Steve now," he says quietly, eyes cast down in shame.

With a sigh, Eddie reaches under his chin, tilting his head up so that they may face each other. The prince - Steve's - mouth is quivering, lips glossy as he licks them nervously. Eddie looks into those hazel eyes with only a hint of disdain. "Do you regret it?"

"Of course," Steve says breathily, staring back at Eddie reverently. "I'd do anything to make up for it."

"Then you deserve a chance to try." Eddie rests his fingers against the hollow of Steve's collarbone for a moment, before gliding them up to his jaw. "Do better by the people, do right by your guilt."

"Please," Steve grasps his wrist, longing coating every syllable he spoke. "Will you help me?"

"Help you?"

"Help me be better," the prince, royal no longer, begs, hands so warm that Eddie could feel it through his armor. "Let me be better for you."

Eddie hums, tilting his head at the flushed skin of the man in front of him, the man he has spent so long fighting back against. The man who was, perhaps, lonelier than he thought of a wretched-king-to-be.

"Well," he murmurs, stroking his thumb at the skin just under Steve's eye, watching as he sighs, watching as his eyes flutter shut. "Who am I to abandon a cry for help?"

"My hero," Steve murmurs as his eyes open, gazing at Eddie sweetly. He presses in closer, their breaths mingling. "My own prince charming."

They make it back to the kingdom, back to the castle, and Steve is already pushing him into the throne, shyly straddling his thighs, setting a new crown upon his head. Eddie smiles up at him, watching as he gasps when Eddie glides a hand down his spine, whining when he squeezes -

"Shit!"

Eddie falls out of bed, groaning. The image of Steve fucking Harrington on his lap burns itself into his brain. "God damn it. Fuck.”

"Ed?"

"'M fine, Wayne!" he hollers back, knocking his forehead back onto the floor as the whisper of "Let me be better for you" drips through his ears, fuck.

How the fuck is he supposed to have a normal day now?

[riphobisbraces]

The Lucky Seven | BTS ot7 x reader

Hybrid/Royal AU

~ chapter 2 ~

[ word count: 3400+ ]

❀ genre: dark royal core, hybrid au, royalty au, hybrids/knights!ot7 x human/princess!reader, afab (she/her) reader, polyamory (mostly ot7 x reader), strangers to lovers, daddy dom, smut and sexual sometimes. tiny bits of horror

❀ warnings: smut, swearing, murder, death (not the reader or ot7 though, I'm not evil), mentions of inbreeding (not between reader or ot7) some unsettling horror depictions, it won't be every chapter though or the whole story, just little bits here and there. (I'm willing to re write chapters for you to read if you can't do horror but still wanna follow along, just ask! 🖤)

——— summary ———

In a world of hybrids and humans, following each other closely to extinction, you are one of the last full humans, Princess y/l/n of the emerald nation. humans are essential for the survival of hybrids so why are assailants hunting you and your family down? because of this, the court has decided it’d be best for you to be guarded at all times by the nations strongest knights, you’ve only ever heard of them but have never seen their faces. What will happen once you come face to face with the infamous “lucky seven”?

[ chapter 2 ]

chapter content warnings: possible emetophobia warning: mentions of needing to throw up (character doesn’t actually throw up though) and unintentional self-harm.

The cold night’s air trickled between Namjoon’s thick fur. Millions of thoughts ran through his mind, faster than the paws carrying him and the princess. What was the princess doing outside? Why did she look so familiar and most of all, are his pack mates okay?

Growling out of frustration whilst running into the night, he shakes those thoughts out. For now he has only one thing he needs to focus on. Getting you to safety and he knows exactly where you’ll be safe.

-

Multiple hurried footsteps and panicked screams filled the room. It was chaos. What was a joyful and merry evening turned into absolute havoc.

The once golden room suddenly having turned cold and blue, its warmth having completely washed away. Hobi quickly ran and tried to push through the crowd looking for any of his pack mates. It seemed impossible with the sea of people engulfing him.

Just as Hobi started to feel hopeless, he found two of his pack members, Jin and Jimin, spotting them from across the room. Hobi used his hands to cup around his face before yelling desperately “JIN! JIMIN-AH! “ The two instantly recognized that voice.

They both quickly snapped their heads into the direction of where it came from, spotting their fellow pack mate trying to make his way through the wave of people. What after seemed like forever, they all finally reached each other, Jin grabbing onto Hoseok’s hands.

“Where are the others” Jin quickly questioned. “I don’t know, you’re the first two that I found” replied Hoseok. Jimin starts glancing around, running his hand through his hair as he pondered.

“Well wherever they are, they can handle themselves. For now we have to neutralize the threat.” Jimin asserts before turning to his fellow knight and pack member, Hoseok. “Hobi, you were the one who alerted that the princess was being attacked, where did the arrow come from?” Questioned the knight.

Hobi doesn’t waste time in answering, “Follow me, I know what direction it came from. Possibly even the shooting location” briskly, Hobi starts making his way to where he suspects it came from, with Jin and Jimin following closely and quickly behind.

-

The temperature around your body is warm. You feel snug and drowsy. Hearing the crackle of fire wood just makes you want to fall back even deeper into your slumber.

The smell of cedar filling your nostrils, comforting you furthermore. Shifting around and moving your legs, you start to feel the softness of blankets underneath, gliding against your skin as you moved. You start to wonder when was the last time you felt this pleasant..

Alas the sudden realization of what had just transpired abruptly started streaming back into your head. Quickly, you sat up, instinctively backing up and grabbing onto whatever was underneath you which happened to be the same blanket that had just brought you so much comfort.

“Your highness, you’re awake” a deep voice suddenly declared, making you shoot your head into the direction it came from. Letting go of the blanket in defense you realized it was the same man from before, the wolf hybrid. He was sitting beside your bedside in a wooden chair.

You didn’t get to have a good look at him before due to the havoc but now that you are, you realized that he’s a gorgeous man. He had tan skin and dark siren-like eyes. His hair was dark, adorned with an undercut.

You found yourself studying his features, they were soft and welcoming. As you sat in silence, taking in the man before you, the same voice suddenly interrupted your admiration. “your highness? are you alright?” his face contorted into worry.

How embarrassing. “y-yes, I am alright.” You answered before quickly looking down to avoid the man you had just been in awe of. Feeling his gaze burn into you, you can’t help but look back up, taking in your surroundings instead, trying to ignore the man obviously examining you with his eyes.

The room was lit with an orange hue from the fire, the room being much smaller than any you’ve ever been in before. Instead of the white walls and golden accents you were accustomed to, you were surrounded by walls of bark.

The walls simply decorated with some little paintings here and there. Looking around some more you noticed this room had no windows, how peculiar you thought to yourself. You noticed some bookshelves hung on the wall above the fireplace across from you, filled with old and torn books much like your own books.

Once you felt you’ve taken in enough of your surroundings and felt more at ease about the man that was studying you, you looked back down. Examining the sheets you were covered in, you realized they were a maroon shade. the colour was dull but you could tell it had been a vivid maroon at some point, or even red.

You decide to finally ask the questions that had been on your mind since you woke up. “Where am I? Are my parents okay?” you asked feebly, ashamed and feeling as though these circumstances were all your fault. Still looking down, you grip onto the sheets once again awaiting his answer.

“You’re at my pack’s den. Kings orders were to get you away from the chaos until it was deemed safe. Unfortunately I don’t know about the well being of your parents but as you might know, your mother didn’t attend the ball, just your father. Last I heard, he was being led to safety.” He replied with a gentle voice, as to not stress you out anymore than you already are. Sighing you let go of your grip to hold your face. covering your eyes, you just sit there, not wanting to cry in front of a stranger especially as princess.

You were to be queen one day and queens cannot show weakness, especially to their subjects. Your heart filled with rue, you decide to let go of your face. Turning to the man once again. “Your name…. It’s sir Namjoon.. right?” you inquired. His eyes widening from the sudden question and the fact that you knew his name.

You must of heard it when Hoseok was talking to him. His face quickly turns from surprise to a gentle smile “yes your highness, my name is Namjoon. Sir Kim Namjoon.” he confirmed.

He then got up from his seat to bow, before gently grabbing your hand with both of his. Softly, he brought it to his lips, you could feel his breath against your hand before he bestowed a kiss of respect upon it, his lips ever so slightly brushing against it. You’re used of servants bobbing you a curtsy or kissing your hand out of respect but this feels different.

You could feel your face start to get hot at the contact, stomach contorting into a ball of what feels like butterflies trying to fight their way out. Taking your hand back, you glance back at the man, met with the same warm smile you had been examining before.

Scratching the back of your neck, you quickly turn your head to face the other way, an attempt at looking at anything but the beautiful man in front of you. You knew your face was probably the colour of crimson so this was as an attempt of hiding that. Glancing around, you remembered how there were no windows, what time was it?

The last thing you remembered was riding away from the palace on top of the wolf hybrid. Had you fallen asleep? You looked for a clock in vain before briskly turning back to face the very man you were just trying to avoid eye contact with. “Ummm… how long was I sleeping for? What time is it?” You questioned, fidgeting with your hands, a bit embarrassed that you had fallen asleep on the hybrid.

“Oh! I apologize, it is the next day. it’s….” he looked down at his watch “09:37” looking back up at you he continued “speaking of, my pack should be back soon, along with your servants and a carriage to escort you back to the palace” he smiled. It’s the next day? You slept for so long, and he had to watch you the whole time.

Your guilt growing, you look down at your hands. Your chest weighing you down, you uttered “I’m… I’m sorry.. I fell asleep on you...” you sniffled. Surprised by your own unexpected moment of weakness, you really didn’t want to cry but you just couldn’t fight the tears.

Oblivious to the man’s sudden worried expression, you continued “and you had to watch me… all night… it’s all my fault, I-I put your pack in d- danger-“ you tried to continue as the lump in your throat fought to take over. But before it could, abruptly, your vision is covered.

Large arms are wrapped around you. They feel warm and comforting. You’re being gently pressed against a broad chest before you realize, he’s hugging you. His scent and warmth instantly calming you down.

Your muscles relaxed and you went loose while you breathed in his scent, closing your eyes. Slowly breathing in and out to calm yourself down, you just sat on the bed, letting yourself be embraced by the man. The embrace is cut short by the realization of what Namjoon had just done.

Gently pulling away, “Y-your highness…” he stammered, clearly embarrassed and quite frankly, scared of what he had just done. Standing up straight, he explained “please forgive me, that was out of line. it’s just… you looked so sad..I felt…” he continued, letting go of your arms to run his hands through his hair but before he could finish, the sound of horses and footsteps cut him off, making the both of you stand up.

-

“thank you once again sir Namjoon, to you and your pack for keeping the princess safe and your services” Your father’s servant said to Namjoon, bowing gratefully to the wolf hybrid. “ it’s really no problem, we are glad to be of service to the king” the hybrid replied, returning the bow.

Your fathers leading officers and servants had come to pick you up from Sir Namjoon’s and his pack’s den. Sitting in the carriage, you stared at the man who had saved you the night before. Pondering of what had transpired just before your father’s men had arrived.

You’ve never been held before by anyone before but your parents and governess. It felt nice. the different body type holding you, way bigger than your parents or governess’ body. It made you feel at ease and protected.

Suddenly your stare is met with his, his head turning to face you. He flashes you a smile before you quickly look down in embarrassment, fiddling with your hands. How rude of you, this man had just saved your life and you repay him by staring?

Footsteps interrupt your mental self beating, realizing they belong to the wolf hybrid that had saved you the night before. He’s coming this way, why do you feel so nervous? “Your highness?” he inquires.

“yes?” You answer with a small smile. “Im very sorry about… what happened in the den. I was out of line and I can only hope you and your father could forgive me for crossing such boundaries” all he did was hug you. You knew it was only a problem because you were the princess but what if you weren’t… would he….

You cut your own thoughts off. You can’t be thinking like that. “oh.. yeah.. please pay it no mind, I really didn’t mind… I actually.. quite enjoyed it.” You admit, mentally slapping yourself as soon as you said so.

A flush quickly took over his face, heart skipping a beat before he started smiling widely. “well.. me too.. you’re highness.” he also admits. You’re both looking at each other, smiling in silence.

Rubbing your hands together nervously, no one’s ever looked at you for this long before and neither have you ever looked at someone for so long. You didn’t want to admit it but for some reason, you wanted to be held by him again, to have his arms around your body, keeping it in a cocoon of safety and maybe… maybe even love-

“WE’RE OFF IN TWO MINUTES” the sound of your fathers men startled you from your thoughts, maybe for good reason too. “well, I guess I’m off.” The hybrid proclaimed with a half smile. “Me too I guess” you responded.

He then reached into the carriage to grab your hand, gently brushing a kiss against it once more just like he did inside, making your heart flutter. He then bowed and said “goodbye Princess. I hope our paths cross again one day” he smiled. You felt your stomach do flips as you looked down.

You uttered a shy “goodbye sir Namjoon… so do I” before looking back up. Looking into each others eyes, you smiled at each other one last time, the hybrid giving you a nod before reluctantly turning away. “MEN, WE’RE OFF” and just like that, the carriage started to move, finding that your eyes never left the man and the direction he was going.

While watching him, you notice his figure was suddenly accompanied by 6 other ones, all walking into the den you had just vacated in. Who were they? Looking back into the front of the carriage, reality started to sink in and your circumstances.

Realizing your parents were waiting for you back home, a sinking feeling settles in. You are in so much trouble.

-

Sitting in the plush chair in your room, you can’t help but think about the men from last night. Hobi, was it? And Namjoon. They were both very attractive yes but truth is, that wasn’t the only reason you kept thinking about them.

Who were they? What were they doing at the ball and why did they seem to know you? Sitting back on the chair, you brought your legs up, holding them against your chest.

Most importantly, how did Hobi know you were the princess? Sure he said you smelt of human but don’t other human hybrids do too? You are a full human though you thought to yourself. Maybe that’s it. You were missing the hybrid scent and perhaps he put two and two together, you and your parents are the last full humans in the nations after all.

Groaning, you slightly swung your head back in frustration. You need to see them again, you thought to yourself. You need answers. Knocking brings you out of your rumination, “your highness?” A voice spoke behind your doors.

“yes?” You replied. “your presence is requested in the courtroom by your Father” Shit. You knew your father would be livid about all of this but the courtroom?

What was he up to? Was he going to send you away? All of these worries ran through your head before you stood up. Turning toward the door, you croaked out a pathetic “I’ll be there in five minutes”.

-

Your steps echoed the hallways, shoes clacking against the marble. Hugging yourself while walking, you can’t help but tighten your grip around your arms the closer you get to the courtroom. Your eyes trailing the passing paintings hung alongside the hallway, a feeble attempt to keep your mind calm.

Alas it’s futile as your thoughts keep running your mind rapid. What if father sends me to a nunnery you think, you’ve never been away from your parents your whole life so this frightens you. Or worse, what if he decides to keep you locked up in one of the dungeons for the rest of your life.

You find your nails starting to dig into your skin, you need to throw up. You stop and kneel. Coughing as you hold on to your stomach. Nothing is coming out.

You can’t throw up but you need to. Tears started beaming through your eyes before you quickly got up. You dusted yourself off and wiped your tears. You need to do this. You need to get it over with.

As you continue your way down. The doors of the courtroom finally come into sight, making your heart drop. ‘This is it’ you think to yourself. You feel as though you’re not in control, you just want to run away but your body is calmly walking toward the doors with no hesitation.

Reaching for the handle, you gently turn it, using your weight to push it open. Why can’t you run, you just want to turn back. Entering the room, the discussion within it instantaneously became quiet. All eyes turned to face you.

A large L shaped table sat in the middle of the room, your Father at the end of the L. The courtroom had high ceilings and tall windows, velvet red curtains draped over them. You cleared your throat, ignoring the eyes on you, you held your head up high and calmly began to make your way to the end of the table, where your father was.

The once clamorous room, was now filled with nothing but the clacking of your shoes against marble. All you could feel were dozens upon dozens of burning gazes, almost making you trip as you walk. Once you made it to the end, you looked at your father.

Meeting eyes with his, his face is filled with sadness but somehow also solace. Without warning, something overtakes you. You thought you could do it but your Fathers’ face had made you weak. You were guilty.

You sank to the floor almost mimicking the way your heart felt. Kneeling down, you placed your forehead to the ground, hands placed side by side. Gasps and muttering quickly filling the courtroom at the spectacle, silencing as fast as they started at the wave of your Father’s hand. His sight never leaving you, “Father…” you weakly whispered.

“Please, forgive me… I can’t-“ you were about to finish when you heard a chair being pushed back. You looked up, your father was walking briskly toward you. You were scared but then you noticed his eyes were glossy.

He quickly picked you up from off the floor, embracing you like he never had before. “Daughter…” you hear your father choke out. your eyes were wide when they suddenly filled with tears at the realization and relief.

Feeling safe, you quickly wrapped your arms around him. Oh how you loved your father. After a few minutes, your father pulls away from the hug, wiping your tears. “a future queen should never cry in public” he reminded you, smiling.

You chuckled at the joke “yes father” looking down as he pushes your hair behind your ears. He was so glad that you were safe, he didn’t even care about the disobedience. One thing was made clear to him though, he could not stop you. So if he couldn’t stop you, you would just have to be protected at all times.

“Daughter, I know I cannot stop your desires to leave the palace, I can see that clearly now..” he admits shamefully while looking down. “and because of last nights threat, you will have to be guarded at all times, even more so than before” your heart began to palpitate in excitement. Wait… does this mean.. you can leave the palace?

Looking into your fathers eyes with anticipation, you spoke up “what are you saying father?”. Your father sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose “you may leave the palace from time to time, but you must be guarded by all seven while doing so.”

all seven? You cocked your head in confusion before your father registered your questioning look, clearing his throat before continuing “because of last nights threat, the court and I have decided you need to be guarded at all times” guarded? Like, a babysitter? “by whom?” You inquired.

Your father snaps his fingers, signalling to one of his servants to bring whoever it is, in. Hurriedly, the servant runs to the other door connecting to the next room, opening it. The men who came waltzing in, made your breath hitch.

It was seven handsome knights, two of them being the same men from the night before, Hobi and Namjoon. After quickly scanning them, your eyes met with Namjoon’s. A smirk appearing on his face. “I bet you didn’t think our paths would cross again so soon, your highness.”

A/N: OOOOOOOO cliffhanger! I know I said we would meet the boys this chapter but I didn’t want to rush things, howeverr I PROMISE we will meet the rest of them in the upcoming chapter :) anyway what did you think of the chapter? Any notes are deeply appreciated, especially comments. It makes me so happy that people are actually reading this, I promise I’ll do my best to deliver! Have a good rest of your day/night everyone, I’m gonna get started on chapter three once I wake up tomorrow ☺️

P.s I was asked about a tag list, so if anyone is interested, just ask! I’ll be putting the tag list on the next chapter xx

Next chapter:

[theteasetwrites]

Merciless Beauty

Chapter 1: Your Eyes Slay Me Suddenly

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: mentions of blood/gore and violence ❧ Word Count: 5.3k

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ In This Chapter: Duke Richard of House Grimes and his knight, Sir Daryl, arrive at King Ezekiel's court, though they do not know why they've been invited. Meanwhile, things are not well in the kingdom of Alexandria as a new threat begins to terrorize its citizens. Despite this, the princess dreams of seeing the world outside the castle walls by which she is imprisoned. She meets someone who she thinks might be able to help.

❧ A/N: Well, here it is. The first part of this weird ass thing I'm writing. I realize that this is super cringey but do I care? Well, a little, but you know what, I am having so much fun writing this and learning about medieval stuff so I am happy with it. I will link a "Before You Read..." page so that you guys can get a little more background info about what I'm trying to do here. I know this is kind of a weird AU and stuff so I have some disclaimers in that link. I've also included a link to the Merciless Beauty Glossary, which lists definitions for some of the terminology I will be using throughout the series. I recommend having that document open as you read as you can use it to quickly refer to in case you come across a word you are not familiar with.

Beyond gentle slopes of overgrown emerald pastures rose tall, imposing battlements of limestone, with tiny silhouettes of guards poking out of each crenel. From this distance, they looked hardly menacing, but the king’s guards were diligent, and their prowess in battle was not to be underestimated. 

The duke raised the blue flag of Alexandria, signaling to the guards that they were no threat. In response, a guard reached over the wall to wave the same flag.

“They see us,” remarked the duke, pulling on the reins of his golden horse. “Here.” He handed back the worn piece of cerulean fabric to the knight who rode by his side. “Strange customs, but I don’t blame them.”

They moved upon their horses in a dignified trot, the knight’s ebony friesian stallion trained to mirror the movements of the steward’s palomino steed. 

“They should be afraid,” said the knight. “The world is a dangerous place. Can’t believe they’ve held out this long.”

The duke flashed him a knowing look, that almost seemed to curl into an amused crack of the lips. “Sir Daryl,” he said, “I’ve always admired your optimism.”

The knight adjusted his feet in the heavy iron stirrups. He’d never quite get used to his lord’s jests. “Sorry,” he spoke simply. A man of few words, Richard always said. 

“It’s all right, but you’d be advised to put on a cheerful face for the king. Joviality goes a long way with his type.”

“His type?”

“Unlike you, my friend, King Ezekiel is known for his… good humor.”

Daryl scoffed from the corner of his crooked smirk. “Thanks… What does the king want with you, anyway?”

Richard’s brows knit together in another amused expression of faux offense. “You think I’m not able to acquire a king’s favor? Careful, knight, you’re a free man now, but you could be downgraded to villein if necessary.”

Of course, the serious knight knew that such a threat was meant in good humor. Ten years of loyal servitude to the duke was more than enough reassurance. 

The men continued onward, their horses plodding through moors that seemed to stretch on forever. The castle couldn’t come closer for Sir Daryl. He was dreading it, the pomp and circumstance of it all. But then, he knew that when he became a knight. It wasn’t the typical story, in fact. He wasn’t of any kind of good birth, his parents being poor and rather unsuccessful merchants in some other kingdom he’d purposefully forgotten the name of. 

No, he wasn’t a nobleman’s son or a squire. He’d earned his title almost reluctantly, through his triumphs and battle prowess in the First War. That is, the war that preceded the Scourge. 

A knight’s duty was to protect a lord, of course. He’d managed a position as the protector of Duke Richard’s land, just outside of Alexandria. In exchange for his protection, the knight had a place to live, and not a bad place at all. It was better than any decrepit wooden shack he’d lived in before, and, as far as nobility went, the duke was not a bad man. In fact, he was a good man, and that was hard to come by in times like these. 

“But it’s odd,” Richard continued, “I don’t know what the king wants with me. I know he wants me to join his court, but I’ve heard he hasn’t invited anyone to court in ten years, since it broke out.” It, of course, was always understood as a reference to the plague that killed ordinary men with a gruesome fever, then brought them back as snarling, rotting walking dead men that feasted on the flesh of those who were unlucky enough to still be alive. 

No one knew where it came from, but many thought the curse was nothing short of the wrath of God Himself. It was the only explanation in a world completely devoid of comfort. Though the idea that a supposedly benevolent god bestowing such a pestilence upon his so-called beloved children was hardly comforting. In these times, people took what they could get. 

“Maybe he just wants your wonderful company,” Daryl replied, sure to speak with a sarcastic lilt to his gruff voice. 

“No, no,” Richard said. “It doesn’t make sense. Ezekiel and I have only spoken a few times… You know, there’s a princess.”

Oh, yes, everyone knew of the princess, of course, though no one had seen her in years. The gatehouse of that castle hadn’t opened in ten years. No one had come in, and no one had gone out. Until now, of course. 

“There’s always a princess,” Daryl huffed. “What does that have to do with anythin’?”

“Well, she’s got to be a woman now… I’m sure the king is looking to wed her to someone.”

Daryl flashed a suspicious glance at the curly-haired man, who returned the look with a steady shake of his head. 

“You think he wants you to court her?”

“I don’t know, but if what they say is true, the princess is the most beautiful woman in Alexandria. Some say beyond Alexandria, too.”

It was odd for a man of Richard’s age and status to be unmarried. His wife had died six years ago in childbirth, along with the child. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, but it was a great tragedy in the duke’s life. The knight couldn’t see him remarrying at all after that, but if the king was going to offer his daughter to him, he would be a fool not to accept. 

“Women with that kind of beauty are hard to come by,” continued Richard. “And royal, too. Hell, the princess is the king’s only child. That means… I could become king when he dies.”

“Gettin’ ahead of yourself,” chided Daryl. “We’re not even at the gatehouse yet.”

“Welcome, my friends!”

The king extended his arms wide, about as wide as the grin upon his countenance. He crossed the great hall, the steps of his pointed poulaines echoing off the grand high ceilings. The king’s hand clasped jovially upon the duke’s shoulder, but the gesture quickly turned into a hearty embrace. 

“It’s good to see you,” said the king. “It’s been too long, Richard.”

“It has.” 

The duke raised his eyes to gaze upon the magnificence of the hall. Though the exterior of the castle may have appeared quite imposing, the great hall was warm, welcoming, even. Elaborate arrangements of strong wooden arches upheld the roof, complete with intricately designed corbels to support them. Draped from the high stone walls were long blue banners bearing the royal family’s crest, no doubt made from the finest threads. Tapestries depicting mythical creatures and romantic scenes of knights going to battle or courting ladies were on full display, too. The hall was illuminated by the gilded light of what seemed to be a hundred or so candles, some upon sconces, others upon tables and in iron chain chandeliers. The pungent aroma of honey and elderflower tickled at the uninitiated noses of the two travelers, and, sure enough, in the king’s hand was a fine pewter goblet, which no doubt must’ve been brimming with a particularly pungent, sweet smelling mead.

“Come!” exclaimed the king. “Have a drink! This is cause for celebration.”

The loud bravado in the king’s voice must’ve alerted the court as finely dressed nobles began to pour in from the arches and the upstairs landing. As the duke and his knight followed the king to his banquet table, just in front of his imposing bronze throne, the court gathered in greater globs. Murmurs began to permeate the great hall, and the knight could just feel an army of eyes laid upon him and his lord. It wasn’t a feeling he reveled in. 

“We’ve already had our feast,” said the king, sitting himself comfortably at the head of the long wooden table. “But I can have a servant bring you something. Only the finest dining here.”

“We’ve already eaten. Just a drink is fine for now, your majesty,” said the duke. As he sat, the loyal knight followed. 

Daryl felt bear, having been made rid of his greatsword and his cloak by the guards at the entrance to the keep. There were few places outside of his home that he felt safe enough without either. 

“Ah, libations!” exclaimed the emphatic king. He held his goblet high for emphasis. “This is the finest mead in Alexandria and her surrounding kingdoms. It comes from a monastery, I’ve been told. They raise bees there, isn’t that fantastic?”

The knight and the duke exchanged a glance. They had no idea what to make of the king. He was so full of merry, the likes of which they hadn’t seen in years. Perhaps it was the mead, but Richard knew the man was jovial. Still, it was a kind of shock.

The servants arrived with intricately detailed pewter pitchers full of the honey wine, filling their goblets to the brim. The excesses of wealth and royalty were foreign to the knight. Duke Richard was wealthy, yes, but not like this.

“So,” spoke the king, “I trust your journey through my kingdom was pleasant? No dead ones crossed your path?”

“Not at all,” said Richard. “Your kingdom is quite safe, it seems. Those tall walls will keep anything out.”

“Hm, yes,” agreed Ezekiel. “But you can never be too careful. No one’s left the castle in ten years, I’m sure you know. It’s better to be safe.”

That reminded the duke. He intended to ask why the king had invited him to court, but before he could speak again, the boisterous king looked to Sir Daryl with an enthusiastic curiosity. 

“This is your knight?”

“Yes, this is Sir Daryl.”

The king settled back in his chair, stroking the gray corkscrew hairs upon his noble chin. “Ah, I’ve heard of your gallantry in battle, how you earned your title. My father knighted you, didn’t he?”

Daryl looked to his steward, wordlessly asking for permission to speak. Richard nodded. “Yes, your majesty,” spoke the knight. His voice was raspier than usual, having been silent for so long since arriving at the castle. After all, what could a knight possibly have to say? His only duty was to protect his lord, as a vassal. He was of lower rank than Richard, and, though he never much cared for the details of hierarchy, it was in his best interest to know his place.

“How grand! Well, gentlemen, I do hope you find this court to be a fount of merriment in these dark times.” He gestured to the surrounding great hall, and the people who watched with bated breath as they clung to the monarch’s every word. “Everyone has been so eager to meet you. This is a momentous occasion. A toast!” The king stood to his feet, raising his goblet high. Others followed suit, of course, as the two newcomers sat overwhelmed at the king’s table. “To Duke Richard and his knight, the first additions to court in a decade of strife.”

“Huzzah!” 

With a long drink of his mead, the king met the duke with wide eyes, then removed the cup in a near panic, though it was a jolly panic. “I almost forgot! How could I forget? My daughter, (Y/N). Elizabeth! Fetch my daughter!”

“Yes, your majesty.” The mousy young maid with flaxen hair frantically ascended the staircase with great haste. 

Richard straightened in his seat, clearing his throat. The knight could tell he was nervous, but he couldn’t understand why. A princess was hardly anything to be nervous about. It was the king the duke needed to impress, he thought. 

“Minstrels!” the king exclaimed, gesturing towards the troupe of musicians across the great hall. There were three, each dressed in colorful garb and feathered caps. One held a lute, the other, a flute, and the third, a tambour. “Play something for the princess’s entrance. Something… delicate, but dignified, like her.”

“Yes, your majesty!” one of the minstrels replied.

Yes, your majesty, seemed a rather common phrase around here.

Then, from atop the stairs appeared a young woman.

You heard the musicians begin to play their little tune—a soft, simple tune that seemed to evolve with each step you took. Each step was calculated and precise, partly because that was how you were trained to walk, and partly because you were careful not to trip over your gown. Your father had instructed you to wear your best clothes the last few days, though you weren’t sure why. You’d heard of a duke coming to court, but it was hardly of any interest to you. Why should you care? Why should you welcome an outsider when you haven’t been able to leave this dusty old castle in years? 

“That must be the duke,” whispered Margaret. She followed your every move, as a lady-in-waiting was supposed to. 

“He’s handsome,” Michonne whispered back. 

You shushed the ladies out of the corner of your mouth. They were much too excited for their own good, much more excited than you. 

At the base of the staircase, your father held his hand out to you, beaming at your beauty. Tonight, you wore your favorite champagne-colored surcote, made from a heavy silk, with long, flowing sleeves that split at the elbow to reveal the pure white lace-front gown. The décolletage was modest, but deep enough to reveal just the beginning of your cleavage, formed by the tight lacing that held your chest in place. It wasn’t quite in vogue these days, but then again, nothing was in vogue these days. 

As you took his hand, you realized that the duke and his knight were standing for you. Of course they were, but their new faces caught you off guard. You knew everyone in court so well, it was strange to see two strangers standing for you.

Your father lifted his hand, in turn raising your arm to show you off like a prized mare. With knitted brows and a quivering lip, you flashed him a confused expression. He’d never introduced you like this before, but then again, he never introduced you to anyone before. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, turning his attention to the duke and his knight. “I present to you my daughter, (Y/N), Crown Princess of Alexandria.”

The men each bent over to bow before you, and you took in their appearance with great interest. It wasn’t often you had new faces to study.

The duke was well-dressed, wearing a damask scarlet doublet that must’ve cost a fortune, with tight-fitting wool hose to accentuate his lean legs. It would be remiss not to note how handsome he was, with a head of lush curls and a short, well-trimmed beard to frame his salmon-colored lips. If it weren’t for his title and his clothing, you could tell the man was a noble just by looking at the shape of his nose, aquiline and strong. Yes, he was handsome.

But just beyond his shoulder, your eyes were pulled like magnets to the knight. His clothes were more muted, but made from a fine material. A plain black wool tabard draped over his broad shoulders, his waist cinched with a fine leather belt, strapped to which was a lone misericorde, the dagger which you knew from your studies to be what knights used to deliver the final death blow to an enemy. The sharp tip sent a shiver down your spine as you wondered briefly if he’d ever had to use it. 

Though his coloring was similar to the duke, both having hair of brown and eyes of blue, their similarities ended there. The knight had a much more tired face, world-weary. It was difficult to see clearly, given the shadows created by the long wavy locks of hair shrouding his visage, but he appeared to have a reddened scar trailing from his brow to his cheek, crossing over his left eye. 

From what you could see, he looked nothing like any man you’d seen before. He was weather-worn and hardened by the world, at least, that’s how he looked. He must’ve seen such terrible things, you thought. In the fine lines of his face, you could begin to make out an image of the world outside. Here was a man who must’ve known its ins and outs like the back of his hand, must’ve been so brave to have survived this long outside the walls, fighting the Dead.

Though your face was softened by curiosity, the knight’s was stoic and cold. He seemed somehow both distant and alert, aware of his surroundings despite his reluctance to be surrounded by them. The duke’s kind face was much more welcoming, but, for a moment, you were held hostage by the knight’s narrowed, serious gaze. 

“Your highness,” said the duke. “I am Duke Richard of House Grimes.�� He turned to gesture towards the knight. “And this is my knight, Sir Daryl.”

A curious name for a curious face, you thought. Still, you tried to maintain your focus on the nobleman.

“It is an honor to meet you, milord,” you replied. “The court has been anticipating your arrival.” Though I haven’t. “Oh, these are my ladies-in-waiting, Lady Margaret and Lady Michonne.”

You brought the ladies forth, each of them curtseying before the duke. It gave you a moment to look upon the knight again. 

“Pleasure,” the duke said to your ladies. “And… may I say, princess, you’re just as radiant as they say.”

You looked wide-eyed at the king, who smiled bigger than he had in years. The blush that blossomed upon your cheeks was not one of flattery, necessarily, but slight embarrassment. “Oh… They speak of me?”

“Yes. Common people often praise your beauty. Many would sell their land or their livestock for the chance just to get a glimpse of you. I must admit, it would be worth it.”

A whirlpool of emotions formed in your belly, mostly confusion. You’d never been complimented quite like this before. “Well… Thank you, milord. That’s very kind of you to say.” Swallowing hard, you turned to your father, who seemingly expected you to return with an equal compliment. “Father, I’m going to retire to my chambers for the evening.” You turned back to face the duke. “Goodnight, Richard. I hope your stay in court is pleasant.”

Your father’s smile faded with your announcement, but he nodded as he tried to offset his disappointment. “Of course, my dear. Goodnight.”

At length, you sat before your vanity to remove your jewels while Elizabeth prepared your bed as usual. She hummed to herself the same little tune the musicians had played earlier for your grand entrance to meet the duke. Removing your translucent veil, you got to work undoing the circles of elaborate braids and removing the genuine pearls laced throughout when a rapping came at the door of your chamber.

“My dear, it’s me,” said your father. “May I come in?”

Oh, for pity's sake. 

You turned on your stool to gesture towards Elizabeth. “Let him in,” you said. “I can undress myself tonight. Goodnight, Beth.”

The young girl nodded before opening the door for the king. He thanked her as she left, while you straightened up to no doubt receive a tongue lashing for your less than friendly reception of the newcomers. 

“(Y/N),” he sighed, sitting at the foot of your bed as he adjusted his gold trimmed velvet robe. “My dear… I must say I am a bit disappointed that you didn’t sit and speak with the duke tonight.”

“Well, father, I… It’s hard to be excited about these new guests when I myself haven’t been outside the castle since I was a girl. And now, all of a sudden, you’re letting in some nobleman and his knight? Why?”

To the king, it was obvious, but to you, it was totally unclear. There was much about the world you still didn’t know, and though you were knowledgeable, on account of your royal tutoring, you were still naïve in many ways. 

Your father stood as he sighed, piecing a long, gray-black dread lock behind his ear. “Well, I was hoping…” He shook his head, then crossed over to you, taking your hands in his as he looked at you with that adventurous sparkle in his eyes. “You liked Richard, didn’t you? He was charming?”

You were caught off guard by the question, but you shrugged and nodded with a half-smile. “Why, yes. He’s charming.”

“And handsome?”

“Well… Of course. He’s very handsome, any woman would think so.”

“So…”

“Father, are you… trying to ask me if I want to court the duke?”

“Yes,” he laughed in relief that you caught on without him having to explain. “Richard is a good man, one of the best nobles left. He’s wealthy, too. Though I was always hoping for a political marriage for you, as long as the man is at least a noble and a suitable husband, I think this kind of match would be good for you. In fact, we could move Richard here, that way you never have to leave the castle, and—”

“Father!” you exclaimed, shocked by how excited he was at this idea without even hearing your thoughts, of which you had many. “I’m not ready to marry!”

“But you’re twenty-six, my dear.”

Standing to your feet, you shook your head and pulled out the remaining braids in your hair. “I’m just not ready. The duke is… He’s perfect, but I’m not interested. I can’t explain it, it’s just not a match.”

“But you’ve hardly spoken to him!”

You didn’t need to speak to him to know, you just knew. It was impossible to explain. All you knew was that it wouldn’t work, and that marriage was simply not in your near future. You had other priorities, other… curiosities. Love was not one of them, except in your fairytales and love poems. You had a hard time believing love could be any better than that. 

“Father, please. I’ve told you how I felt, and I’m sorry if you brought this man here just for me, but I can’t force myself to try with someone who doesn’t interest me in that way.”

He crossed the room with a soft step, his face morphing into an understanding smile. “I know, darling. I’m sorry to have upset you. I would never force you into a marriage that didn’t please you, I just… I just want you to marry a good man. Well, so long as he’s a noble, at least.”

Your father was never a traditional king, but he still insisted on some things, and one of them was that you would marry well. Well meaning high status. Some things were sacred.

“But if the duke isn’t to your liking,” he continued, “I won’t force it.”

“Thank you, father. That means a great deal to me.”

“Good.” His hand cradled the back of your head to bring you forward, allowing him to bestow a fatherly kiss upon your forehead. “Someday, you will make a great queen. A better ruler than me, I am sure.”

“Father,” you laughed. “You are a great ruler. The people love you. Everyone loves you. That’s what matters.”

“My sweet girl,” he said, now holding your cheeks to admire your pretty, delicate features. You were truly a princess through and through. “You’re the most precious jewel in my crown.” An old phrase he’d said to you since you were a little girl. The man was so sentimental, a trait you admired greatly. “I bid you goodnight.”

As he headed back towards the door, you began to think freely, with your mind returning to the knight beside Richard. Daryl, you recalled his name. You’d never heard a name like that, nor seen a face like that. 

“Father?” you called out to him just before he could leave.

“Yes, my dear?”

Looking down, you toyed with the fine silk fabric of your surcote, prefering to study the rich champagne color than to face your father as you asked, “Tell me about Richard’s knight.”

The king’s brows furrowed, his head tilting to the side in a display of curiosity and confusion. “The knight? Sir… Daryl, I believe?”

“Mhm,” you mumbled, still nervously rubbing the garment between your fingers. To clarify, you lifted your gaze to your father. “Well, I mean… I was just curious. You know how I have a fascination with knights and things of that sort.”

The king shook his head with a warm, deep chuckle. “Oh, daughter. Well, I don’t know much of him, other than that he is brave, loyal… He was knighted by your grandfather, you know. Just a few years before he passed.”

“And he is of noble birth, like Richard?”

“No, no,” he replied. “Not at all. His parents were lower gentry. He earned his title in battle, a rare feat for a knight, as you know.”

Indeed, most knights were born to nobility, becoming pageboys before the age of ten, then promoting to squire in their youth. After years of studying under an established knight, the squire would then undergo the dubbing ceremony. He’d learn the code of chivalry, and he’d pledge allegiance to a lord, offering military services in exchange for a fief, or land. It seemed that Sir Daryl must’ve met many of these requirements, but he certainly wasn’t a noble. 

“That’s quite interesting,” you said. “I knew he seemed different. Well, goodnight, father.”

“Goodnight, my sweet.”

When the candlelight was extinguished, and the only sound left in the dead of night was that of the crickets chirping and the toads ribbeting, you were left in solitude with your thoughts. These thoughts were not new, of course. They were visions of the outside world, beyond the castle walls and the walls of the kingdom. They hung somewhere between consciousness and dream, but your thoughts were intentional, purposeful. You thought of the trees, the flowers, the little streams. You thought of the deer and the birds and the butterflies, every beautiful thing you hadn’t seen since the Scourge began. That plague had taken everything from you, your mother, your freedom, your peace of mind.

Others had it much worse, of course, and you knew that, but that didn’t ease your heartache. There were many nights you cried yourself to sleep, hoping your father couldn’t hear, for he did what he did for good reason—he was terrified of losing you, his only child. 

But tonight, you didn’t cry at all. In fact, there was a strange sense of hope nestled in your heart, something you hadn’t felt in so many years. At first, you couldn’t put your finger on it, but as your head and your heart began to work together, you realized—it was the knight.

Not only was the knight a new addition to the court, but he was brave, a fighter. He would surely help you escape. 

Escape was something you’d thought of before, but now, it seemed within reach. Of course, you wouldn’t leave forever, just a day. Just a day outside the walls, breathing in the fresh air, feeling the soft grass underfoot. There wasn’t anyone else. The guards all pledged such strong allegiance to the king, they would surely inform him of your plans if you asked. The others weren’t skilled in combat, couldn’t keep you safe. No, the only solution was the knight. He would help you. Surely, he would help you. 

In your alone time, you often walked the corridors of the keep, as there wasn’t much else to do when you weren’t occupied by your books or your needlepoint. Today was no different, though the court was still excitable over the arrival of the duke last night. 

You tried to ignore that, instead keeping yourself in your thoughts as you wandered aimlessly, until your father’s panicked voice resounded from inside his cabinet, adjacent to his bedchamber. What you made out were the words, “How could this happen?!”

Curiosity overcame you, your boredom having been relentless. You looked around the corridor for a moment, ensuring no passersby would see you. The guards were at the other end of the hall, facing away from you. If you were quiet, no one would see you pressing your ear to the ornate wooden door. 

“Constable,” your father huffed, “are you quite sure?”

“Yes, your majesty,” spoke Lord Constable Aaron. “There have been reports of mysterious cloaked knights extorting citizens throughout the kingdom. They demand crops, livestock, women… They threaten murder if they don’t get their way, my liege. We had some isolated incidents in the past, but this past month, they’ve been happening more frequently.”

“And you didn’t think it of import to tell the king?” questioned Lord Chancellor Gerald. “There hasn’t been crime like this in Alexandria since we closed our gates.”

“I didn’t want to worry his majesty with incidents of petty crime,” responded the constable. “But now… Well, a boy has been killed.”

“What?!” your father exclaimed. “Who?”

“Thomas Webb, son of the innkeeper, James. He was only sixteen… I’ve been told it was…”

The constable trailed off, his voice becoming shaky as he spoke. 

“Speak, Aaron,” demanded the king. 

The constable cleared his throat, then lowered his voice. You pressed your ear harder against the wood of the door, so much so that you feared a splinter. 

“Apologies, milord… It—it was a gruesome death, the likes of which we haven’t seen in Alexandria since the Dead breached our walls. But this wasn’t a dead man, it was a knight in black armor, their leader. We could hardly identify the boy, his head was… Well, your majesty, his head was obliterated.”

A small gasp escaped your lips, your hand quickly reaching up to catch it before it alerted the guards. 

“By God,” uttered the chancellor. “What kind of knight are we dealing with?”

“A knight wouldn’t commit a crime like that,” spoke an at first unfamiliar voice, but you quickly identified it as that of the duke. “No, not any kind of true knight. A dishonored one, maybe.”

“It’s of no concern to me what this man’s status is,” said the king. “All I care about is protecting my people. Constable, I need strengthened security across the kingdom, especially in the merchant district. Something tells me these marauders are targeting the middle and lower classes. I also want tighter security at the outer curtain. No one should be entering or leaving the kingdom without my permission, and if they’re entering clandestinely, there must be a blind spot or a chink in our armor. If the living can get in, the Dead can, too. Get it sorted. There will be no more of this… obliterating in my kingdom, understand?”

“Absolutely, your majesty. We’ll double up our defenses. This won’t happen again… Oh, and… There is one more thing.”

“What is it?” asked the king. “I have very little time for idle conversation today, constable.”

“Yes, yes, of course, your majesty, but… Well, this is quite important. The knight in black armor left a message with one of our guards, just before he… chopped off his arm.” 

Your lips trembled with fear. How could a man do such a thing? And this man was in your kingdom, hurting your people. It was horrifying. That poor guard, you thought. That poor boy… Oh, that poor, poor boy. 

“Good lord!” huffed the king. “All right, what is it?”

The constable cleared his throat as you heard a crinkling of paper. “Your majesty,” the constable read from the letter, “let this be a first warning, an introduction of sorts. My name is Sir Negan of House Smith, my people are the Saviors. If you cooperate with me, there will be no more bloodshed, but if you go against me, I will plunder and pillage this pretty kingdom until the streets are soaked red. I ask, or demand, rather, for one thing: your daughter.”

~

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

Series Masterlist Next Chapter ➳

[bobfloydsbabe]

illicit affairs | bob floyd x oc | mob boss au

in the afterglow

SUMMARY: Bob longs for something real.

WARNINGS: mob boss au, angst (if you really squint), otherwise none

WORD COUNT: 375

MBB MASTERLIST

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A/N: This just came to me two nights ago, and I wanted to share Soft MBB with you all. You deserve him. I've also decided that black and white banners indicate shorter drabbles and blurbs. I'll add this to the masterlist soon. Also. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY PLATONIC SOULMATE @joaquinwhorres!!

She brushes a hand over his flushed and sweaty chest, watching it travel across the expanse of his pecs. Somehow, her fingertips are cold.

He brings his own hand up to cradle hers. Pressing it closer to where his heart is so she can feel it beating rapidly, not just from the strain of their activities, but because she’s near. He doesn’t have the words to articulate what they are yet, but it’s on the tip of his tongue.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Abby looks up into his eyes, and for who knows what time, he can’t read her. Whatever she’s thinking is a closely guarded secret he’s not yet privy to, but he’ll get there. He knows he will.

“It’s not important,” she whispers, and cranes her neck down to place a kiss on the back of his hand.

Placing a finger under her chin, he brings her lips to his. Gentle. Soft. Not desperate like all the other times he’s kissed her, no, this is a kiss just because. Because kissing her feels like belonging for the first time, and he doesn’t know what to make of that ache in his chest.

He pecks her lips again and again, hoping it’ll make her stay. He knows it won’t. She always leaves after he drifts off to sleep, so tonight he’s trying to stay awake to keep her here. To keep the illusion that they could be something more than whatever they are alive.

She pulls back, a tired smile on her beautiful face, and she shudders under his touch as he runs his thumb over the beauty mark next to her nose. “Go to sleep, Bobby,” she whispers into the darkness, pecking his lips once more.

He takes a deep breath, feeling the exhaustion overtake his body. “I like when you call me that,” he whispers back as his eyelids grow heavy and slip closed.

Leaning forward, she kisses the tip of his nose. “Sweet dreams, Bobby.”

His vision darkens and the outlines of her face blur. “They always are when you’re here.” It’s a raw and vulnerable confession, but he’s too tired to fight sleep as it pulls him under.

When he wakes the next morning, she’s gone.

likes a nice, but reblogs and comments are golden

TAGLIST: @joaquinwhorres, @yanna-banana, @bradshawsbitch, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @sylviebell, @wkndwlff, @rooster-84, @roosters-girl, @bradshawsbaby, @cdauni, @withahappyrefrain, @some-lovely-day, @linkpk88, @thedroneranger, @cherrycola27, @lunamooncole, @purplevortexx, @hangmandruigandmav, @lorilane33, @ravenhood2792, @desert-fern, @wittywhispers, @mikpieboo, @petersunderoos96, @soulmates8, @teacupsandtopgun, @daisiesandinvasives, @f1maverick, @deliriousfangirl61, @rhettabbotts, @himbos-on-ice, @callsign-barbell

[angelqinladsfandomaccount]

Fated Council Meeting

Author: @angelqinladsfandomaccount

Imagine: An AU where MC is actually a Princess. In this AU, the guys come into her life roughly about the same time and for different(ish) reasons. This isn’t a story per say, but more like a collection of one shots/drabbles all taking place in this AU I have created in my head. I just wanted to share with the community for those interested! :) 

Pairing: All LADS men x F!Reader

Trigger warnings: arranged marriage, violence, mentions or rape/torture, mature themes (MDNI), mentions of weapons/wounds/blood

Word Count: 2962

The LADS AU Collections

I own no rights to the Love and Deepspace characters.  

Author’s Notes

Not everything mentioned in the AU will be cannon. Just something for me to write about/occupy my time with :) 

Not every part posted will be in chronological order. I’m just writing as I have inspiration for the AU

Some important notes about the Princess: she is an artist/can draw; she has dreams of her past/future lives with the LADS men; just like in LADS, the Princess is a little bit of a bad ass and takes no shit; and lastly…her evol in the AU is one I’ve made myself…I’m calling it a “chameleon evol” but she can replicate/mimic/use any evol she resonates with….

The man with white hair had red eyes that glimmered with mischief as he glanced at the man with blue and pink eyes and purple hair seated next to him on his right before he smirked at the silver haired man seated to the left of him. The three men happened to be seated next to each other as they listened to the mumbled conversations of the council gathering in the throne room of the King. Each of them had been invited here by the King for various reasons: Sylus had been invited to fill the vacant spot on the King’s council; Rafayel was invited by the King to be the Princess’ new personal guard; and Xavier was here under his father’s wishes for him to be the Princess’ suitor in marriage.

The King, a young man with golden blond hair and sea blue eyes, sat on the throne in the center of the dais at the far end of the room. A large bay of windows allowed those in the throne room to witness the dazzling waterfalls flow from the cliffs behind the castle to the endless ocean below. Seated next to the King was the King’s younger brother, Prince Lucius, who sat in stark contrast to the young King. The ink black hair of the young Prince made the emerald green of his eyes shine brightly as he looked at the gathered men in the room with boredom. A mask hiding most of the Prince’s and King’s face and the crowns upon their heads were the only similarities between the two royal family members and the only things declaring them part of the royal family. A middle-aged man with graying hair cleared his throat as he approached the center of the throne room and the mumbled conversations in the room ceased. 

“Good afternoon, gentlemen.” The older man spoke in a formal tone. “I am Prime Minister Simoni, and I am pleased to be addressing our beloved King Camillus and the council seated before me.” The man’s face held no emotion as he turned to look at the King seated on the throne. “The first order of business to address during this council meeting is the discussion of the appointment of the Princess’ most recent suitor--”

The doors to the throne room violently opening as a young woman with rose red hair tied back into a ponytail walked into the throne room as she dragged a limp body behind her. The rose gold mask on her face hid the lower half of her face, but her chocolate brown eyes stared straight at the King seated on the throne with defiance as the man she dragged by the collar groaned weakly. Every head in the room turned to look at the sudden interruption, and the three men’s eyes widened as they looked at the woman who came to stand a short distance away from the Prime Minister.

“You mean the rapist, sadist, and murderer you tried to set the Princess to marry?” The woman’s voice was even, but her tone slightly betrayed the anger that she felt as the man groaned as she threw him at the feet of the Prime Minister. The man coughed and gripped his left shoulder as blood stained the white shirt he was wearing.

All three men--Sylus, Rafayel, and Xavier--sucked in a breath as they stared at the woman who stood with her head held high before the King and the council. The Princess looked and sounded like her, and the hearts in the center of each of their chests began to quicken pace as they watched the scene before them unfold as the Princess threw a book she had been holding in her other hand at the stairs of the throne.

“Before you, my King, is evidence gathered from the manor of Lord Gaston. Within its pages you will find handwritten notes detailing the twisted fantasies of how the Lord plans to rape, torture, and eventually kill me.” The Prince rises from his seat and walks to pick up the book from the stairs before he takes his seat and opens the book to look over the pages.

“Nonsense!” An older man from the other side of the room shouts as he stands up. “Everyone knows that the Princess has been vocal in her disdain for finding a suitor!” His words convey every ounce of distrust he has for the Princess and her accusations against the man groaning on the floor in front of the Prime Minister. The masked woman’s eyes cut to the man who openly speaks against her as she audaciously meets his gaze.

“Lord Merton,” The Princess addresses the man who spoke. “I understand your distrust of me in these accusations.” Silence greeted the Princess as the men in the room awaited what the woman would say next. “Allow me to bring forth more evidence to the council.” The Princess turned her head to look at the King, who slightly nodded his head at the Princess’ request.

“You may enter.” The Princess turned to look at the open doors of the throne room before several shy servants quietly shuffled into the room. “Before you are all servants of Lord Gaston, who have all personally witnessed or endured the cruel acts of the man himself.” The Princess walked over to the servants, who refused to look up at the sea of men around them, before she gently took the hand of the nearest servant--a ginger man with pale green eyes.

The servant looked up at her before he thickly swallowed and lifted his shirt to reveal several nasty scars littering his abdomen and back to the members of the council. A heavy silence hung in the room as each servant began to reveal their similar scars or opening their mouths to reveal their severed tongue. The three men looked around at the faces of the men around them to see how they were all reacting to this piece of evidence. Some of the men around them turned to look at the man lying on the floor with disgust; some of the men looked at the Princess with a sorrowful look; a few of the men still looked skeptical of the evidence presented before them.

Upon seeing the skeptical looks of some of the men in the council, the ginger haired man gestured to the Princess to cover her eyes. The Princess covered her eyes before the ginger man boldly stepped in front of her and stripped his pants off to reveal his severed penis to the council men. Surprised gasps left the lips of the men with skeptical looks as the ginger man covered himself back up and tapped the Princess on her shoulder, who uncovered her eyes and looked apologetically at the man. The Prime Minister’s face looked pale as he looked down at the man at his feet.

“Lord Gaston is a wolf wearing sheep’s clothing.” The Princess’ finger pointed at the man laying on the ground, who looked at her like he wanted to strange her. “A monster such as himself deserves no place beside the Princess, nor does he deserve the sweet taste of freedom.”

Sylus couldn’t help the smirk on his lips as he watched the Princess stare coldly back at the man. If the Princess was her reincarnated in this lifetime, then she was just as feisty as her previous self.

Rafayel, the man with blue and pink eyes, watched the woman attentively as his ears picked up on the steady beating of the heart in her chest. The familiar burning sensation of the bond mark over his heart confirmed that she had reincarnated as the audacious Princess standing in the throne room before him.

Xavier, the silver haired man, felt his heart race slightly in his chest as he was almost certain that the Princess was the woman he loved reincarnated before him. Curious, he secretly peered over at the other two men seated beside him, and found them both to be intently watching the Princess. For some unknown reason, Xavier felt a twinge of jealousy flow through his veins at this observation before as he turned his attention back to the Princess.

The man on the ground wickedly smiled at the Princess before he slowly lifted himself up to his knees. In the blink of an eye, Lord Gaston drew the sword from the Prime Minister’s waist and threw it at the Princess. The Princess almost escaped the sword as it buried itself into her shoulder, and chaos erupted in the throne room as guards rushed in to subdue the man who dared to harm the Princess. With a guard on each side, Lord Gaston smirked as the Princess gripped the sword sticking out of her shoulder, and the teal of the Princess’ dress turned a darker shade of blue as blood mixed with the fibers. 

The three men sitting nearby felt their blood boil as several scarlet drops fell on the floor from the Princess’ shoulder, but the woman straightened up and looked at the man who threw the sword with defiant eyes.

“Attempting to murder the Princess,” Her voice was strong as she slowly stalked towards the man who attempted to take her life, and all eyes watched as the Princess wrapped her delicate fingers around the hilt of the sword then pulled it out of her shoulder. “Is a treasonous act punishable by death. Isn’t that right, My King?” Pointing the sword at the man on his knees before her, the Princess did not look up to the blonde man seated upon the throne.

“Indeed.” The King finally said as he deep voice reverberated off the walls of the throne room. “Having witnessed the attempt myself, I permit the Princess to enact justice on her behalf.” With a flick of her wrist, the room fell into an eerie silence as the head of Lord Gaston slid from his body and rolled across the floor before stopping at the feet of the Prime Minister, whose face was pale as the blood seemed to drain from his face at the sight. 

“Perhaps,” The Princess stepped towards the Prime Minister and held out his sword to him. “Prime Minister, you should leave the chosing of a suitor to the Princess since you are incapable of chosing someone decent.” The older man visibly swallowed at the Princess’ words as the Princess held a hand to the wound on her shoulder; blood had begun to drip a small path on the floor from the harsh pulling of the sword from her body. The blonde man sitting on the throne cleared his throat before another young man briskly walked into the room. The newcomer in the room wore a stern expression on his face as his hazel eyes narrowed at the sight of wound on the Princess.

“You are wounded, Sister.” The King spoke as his eyes softened at the young woman. “Let Doctor Zayne tend to your wounds, and we shall discuss the topic of suitors at another time.” The young woman looked up at her older brother before she looked at the man who approached her. His dark hair fell slightly over his eyebrows as he noticed the blood slowly dripping on the ground below the Princess. “Alright.” The Princess said as her eyebrows furrowed slightly at the scowl on the doctor’s face. “Suitor discussion may be discussed later as you wish, Your Majesty.” The woman bowed respectfully to the blonde man seated upon the throne. “I will take my leave now to tend to my wounds.” With her final words, the Princess turned and followed the doctor out of the throne room.

After the ordeal Sylus witnessed, he knew that he had to get closer to the Princess to find out if his hunch about the young lady was right. Looking around the room at the sea of men who looked astonished by the events that had transpired in the throne room today, Sylus knew that he could easily convince the King to let him join the council. However, Sylus had another idea brewing inside his head--perhaps he could convince the King to let him be a personal guard for the Princess?

“Everyone is dismissed. The council meeting is abjorned.” The King’s authoritative tone echoed off the stone walls of the chamber, and several men stood before quickly taking their leave. However, the three men stood but made no move to vacate the throne room. King Camilus took notice of the three men who remained in the throne room, and the young man tried to hide the annoyance on his face.

“You three remain in the throne room after the King has dismissed everyone.” The King’s tone showed how tiresome the ordeal with the Princess had been on him. “Approach and tell me what business it is you wish to address with the King.”

The three men temporarily looked at each other as if realizing for the first time that they all had seemingly come to the council meeting with a purpose, but what the other’s purpose was had yet to be revealed to the others. Xavier was the first to step away from where he had been seated and approach the King. Deeply bowing, the silver-haired man felt his heart remain calm in his chest as he straightened his posture to look the King in his sea blue eyes.

“Greetings, King Camilus.” Xavier’s voice sounded foreign as it echoed off the chamber’s walls. “I am Prince Xavier of Philos, and I have been sent by my father to request the Princess’ hand in marriage.” Xavier’s voice is quiet and steady as he speaks before he realizes as his final words are spoken that now may not be the time to bring up such a matter. “I had no knowledge of the previous suitor before arriving today, and I apologize if now is not a good time to bring up such an issue.” The man with the silver hair and blue eyes bowed again, this time apologetically, before he dared to look back up to the King. “I am willing to come again and discuss this matter further.” A heavy sigh from the King greeted Xavier’s words as the King rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Indeed this is an inconvient time to bring forth such a discussion.” The King’s shoulders slumped slightly as he looked over the silver haired man in front of him. “Furthermore, this is a discussion best had in the presence of the Princess herself, so we will delay further discussion until she is well enough to take part in this.” Xavier nodded his head at the King’s words.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Xavier bowed respectfully to the King before he slowly turned and began to walk away as the man with purple hair approached the King then bowed.

“Greetings, Your Majesty,” Rafayel spoke in a somber tone as he straightened his posture. “King Camilus invited me here to become the personal guard of the Princess.” The sentence made Sylus’ eyebrow raise in curiosity as Xavier stopped in his tracks and turned around. “At first, I was going to refuse the summons and the offer; however, after seeing the Princess and what she went through today….” Rafayel dropped to one knee before the King and bowed his head as he placed his hand over his heart. “I accept the position and promise to protect the Princess with my life.”

One of the King’s eyebrows raised as the man kneeled before him, but the King said nothing as he nodded his head before he looked over to the man with white hair. The white haired man with ruby red eyes approached the King next as he respectfully bowed as he stood next to the man with purple hair.

“Greetings, Your Majesty.” Sylus’ deep voice smoothly carried itself through the room. “I was invited here to participate in your council and fill an empty seat. However, after today’s events, I would also like to offer my services to protect the Princess.” Following the example of Rafayel, Sylus dropped to one knee before the King and bowed his head while he placed a hand over his heart.

The King briefly exchanged a look with his younger brother before he stood up and approached the two men.

“Please rise.” The King gently said as he stood before the men. “From this moment forward, you two are the appointed personal guards of Princess [Y/N]. Protect her well, even if it means sacrificing yourself to ensure her safety.” Both of the men looked up at the King before they rose from their kneeling positions and bowed.

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” With an approving nod of the King’s head, the two men turned and walked out of the throne room before turning to face each other with distrustful eyes. Xavier followed quietly behind them as he awkwardly stood there to witness the tension building between the two other men as they stared at each other. The white haired man stuck his hand out to the man with the purple hair.

“Sylus.” He said as he smirked at the other man. “And you are?”

“Rafayel.” The man with the purple hair said with a bored tone as he shook hands with Sylus.

“Pleasure to meet you. Hopefully we can get along since we are both going to be protecting the Princess.” A signature smirk rested on the lips of the man with ruby eyes as the cosmic eyes of Rafayel narrowed slightly.

“I hope you’re not going to be a pain in my ass.” Rafayel said as he eyed the whited haired man suspiciously, who scoffed at the threatening tone from Rafayel.

“Likewise.” Sylus said with a smile.

[smallraindrops-blog]

I Know A Place (just for you and me)

Part 4

WMFTD!Y/N X Hypnos

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Fluff, implied sex, possible Hades 2 spoilers, possible SA (not between Y/N and Hypnos), AUs out of the wazoo, no beta.

Notes: 

I have so many WIPs but these wouldn’t leave me alone so enjoy. 

Part one

Part two

Part three

Mortal (Ponyo!au)

Clouds parted as you hurried through the misty, twilight realm of dreams. All hundreds of your children, painfully innocent and unaware of your growing level of stress, chased after you with delighted giggles. No doubt excited to see their dad once more.

All but one that was.

Morpheus, their first born and possibly the strongest of Hypnos’ children, did the worst possible thing he could have ever done. He went and fell in love with some worthless mortal.

Your lips twisted in distase at the mere thought of some mortal even looking at your son let alone thinking they were worthy of Hypnos’ beloved children. Centuries you had spent guarding and attending to the love of your life, only to fail in the most singular important task ever given to you.

When you saw him, your breath hitched in quiet awe, your heart pounded against your chest in a lovestruck rhythm that was ancient as the seas.

You had lived for centuries and you still went breathless at the beauty of Sleep. Hypnos had only grown, his white curls spilling over his back and shoulders like a giant waterfall, his form large enough to make mountains seem small. 

His eyes were closed, his breathing rising and falling in a slow, even rhythm. It took everything you had not to stand there forever and admire his loveliness. With a single hand gesture toward the children to stay back, you went to him.

”Love, I need you to wake up.” You whispered against his cheek, hating that you had disturbed his rest. Hypnos’ brow twisted, his mouth forming an adorable pout then his heavy eyes opened.

It was staring into the sun, heavenly and golden. 

With a yawn that echoed through the realms, Hypnos sat up with his arms stretching overhead. He blinked a few more times before he glanced down at you with a gentle smile.

You swallowed, falling madly in love all over again.

“Dearest! What a surprise.” Hypnos placed his hand in front of you. Without missing a beat, you stepped onto his palm and braced a hand against his thumb as you went up.

”I wish it was for a good reason.” You told him bitterly. Hypnos frowned, and you explained everything. 

The terrible, worthless mortal that somehow found the hidden path, Morpheus going off and running away with the awful mortal and your failed attempts to bring their son back where he belonged.

“Our little Morpheus is in love?” Hypnos gasped, his smile returning full force. 

Behind you, all your children began to yell, cheering as they tried to speak over each other. Hypnos laughed at their chatter, nodded along as if he understood each and every single one of them.

”Is that your only take away from this, my love?” You scowled, gesturing with your hands. “Our son had run off, who knows what that worthless moral is teaching him? What if he eats something that makes him sick?”

”Oh noooo.” Hypnos replied, his lips twitched as if fighting back laughter but you were too lost in your anger to see it. “We can’t have that.”

”Exactly, if Morpheus doesn’t come back to us, who knows what will happen? What if the useless mortal- what?” You stopped when you saw Hypnos’ eyebrows rising.

Hypnos blew a stray curl out of his eyes then offered you a kind smile. “It's just that- Doesn’t this sound the tiniest, littlest bit familiar, dearest?”

Your jaw clenched.

You knew exactly what he meant.

”This isn’t the same at all.” You crossed your arms. “I only stole you away once. Well twice. Your brother got over it eventually.” 

Thanatos still glared at you during family reunions, but you were sure it was mostly out of habit than actually hatred at this point. Although you get the gut feeling that he would laugh at you right now if he knew the situation. Could the god of death even laugh?

“I mean-“ you tried to say something that would make Hypnos side with you but came up with nothing.

Hypnos said your name quietly, unimpressed.

”Morpheus deserves the world.” You told him quietly, desperately. “All of our children do, shouldn’t they have the best it has to offer?”

He was quiet for a long moment then he sighed and brought you closer. “I think it matters more what our children want, not what they deserve. If anything, don’t they deserve a chance to find their own hearts?”

You said nothing, hating that he sounded so reasonable.

With a gentle kiss on your head, he placed you back down. Immediately, your children swamped you and with a nod, you sent them to their dad. Hypnos brightened up, leaning down to better greet their many, many children.

Later, as you began lining up the children but just before the counting, Hypnos called to you. When you turned, he was back to his original size, and you saw the flash of nervousness in his eyes. 

You held out a hand and tugged him close in an embrace.

”If Morpheus doesn’t wish to come back, what will happen?” You asked into his curls. 

“He is made of dreams and magic, just as you are.” 

Hypnos signed, his hand resting over your heart. You placed a protective hand over it and gave him a squeeze.

“I don’t know.” He admitted quietly. He pulled away just enough to look up at you. “Whatever happens, we will be there for him.” 

“Always.” You promised.

~

Prince (Fairytale!au)

The early morning light broke through the stained windows, dazzling rainbows dotted along the floor. You stepped through the lights, warily checking to make sure no locks were tampered with in the night.

As a knight of the Night kingdom and Guardian of Prince Hypnos, the Sleeping Beauty, you had one sacred duty above all, protect the prince until his true love appeared and broke the spell. 

Satisfied that no locks were broken nor any traps activated during the long night, you returned to his chambers.  

You were quiet as a church mouse as you closed the door behind you. 

Everyday, you started the process the same way. 

You began to pull back the heavy curtains, letting warm sunlight in, then you opened the windows to bring in the sweet coolness of early spring, birdsongs drifting in with the breeze.

Prince Hypnos’ chambers were so high up that little else could reach them. No army, no egotistical princes from other kingdoms, no devious bandits, nothing. 

As you went through the familiar routine of letting fresh air in, picking out a new book to read to him and making his favorite tea, you kept glancing toward the bed. The prince hidden by the dark canopy, heroes and monsters and lovers all told in the gleaming stars.

Finally, you couldn’t put it off anymore. 

“Good morning, Your Highness.” You called out quietly, as a warning even though he couldn’t respond.

Pushing aside the stars, it revealed the sleeping form of Hypnos, his breathing soft and even, his full lips parted just so. The white fans of his lashes remain flushed against his cheeks as always.

The sight of him loosen the knot that formed your chest in the short time you were away. 

Hypnos had shifted his limbs during the night, an slender arm tossed over his head and his other one across his stomach. A handful of new poppies had been created during his sleep, cupped in his palm. 

A few moonlight curls escaped the braid you gave him the night before, framing the gentle curve of his cheekbone. The blankets remained mostly in place, his nightgown was made of simple red cotton.

Sleeping Beauty indeed.

With gentle fingers, you took the poppies and placed them on the nightstand, in the wooden bowl you had set aside for this purpose. The older, drier flowers still held onto their color but the contrast was striking.

You hesitated over the flowers, your eyes going back toward Hypnos. 

The thought had been a quiet one, whispering to you in the dark of night. It was easier to dismiss after a long day, but with the honey-gold morning light, it seemed almost-

A loud whistle broke your thoughts. 

You flinched as if you were caught in the act. You turned away and tended to the kettle, pulling it out the hearth. 

The stray thought, the one that lurked over your shoulder like a hissing devil, you crushed it like one would a bothersome insect.

~

Countless suitors came, all with titles and glory and riches that took anyone else lifetimes to earn. Not a single one woke up Hypnos.

You were careful not to reveal anything, not the distaste of a stranger inside the sanctuary you had cultivated nor the white-hot flash of jealousy of someone placing their lips on Hypnos.

Each time, you wipe his full lips with a soft cloth, tracing the shape of his mouth with tender fingers, easing the foul strangers’ touch. 

“They will come someday, Prince Hypnos.” You promised him each time, hating that none of the strangers had proven themselves worthy. Hating that you couldn’t find the one person he needed.

Over time, you had learned much about Hypnos, there were books where he highlighted his favorite quotes. Little doodles in the corner of the pages. Pressed flowers in another, with little notes such as ‘Mom’s favorite, remember to order for her birthday.’ or ‘First flower that bloomed in the garden.’

There were also bad written jokes and puns in those as well, some that actually got a chuckle out of you. 

There were lists of things as well. 

Books to read, food that he liked (nearly all of them sweets), things that made his twin sneeze, how many times his teacher repeated certain words, or his dream pet (dog, sheep, fire breathing dragon. You had questions about the sheep one)

Although you and the prince never shared a single word, you felt as if you knew him.

His family kept Hypnos’ favorite teas stocked, honey chamomile along with a hibiscus berry kind, since the healers had told that familiar scents would help. You brew three cups, one in the morning with birdsong drifting in, mid-afternoon with a tea cookie, one before bed, the star gleaming soft in the moonlight.

His twin came once a week, speaking to Hypnos like he could respond. He would often lecture Hypnos about his ever growing work, that he needed to hurry up and wake up. You kindly ignored how it sounded like begging.

But You learned a lot during those one-sided conversations.

His mother came rarely, and when she did, she sat by his side in a solemn quiet until she left without a single glance toward you.

Sometimes the silence was louder than words. 

Then.

One day someone actually got past the traps in the dead of the night. They managed to get all the way to Hypnos’ room. You would never forget the moment you woke up to a looming man pulling the canopy apart, his knee on the bed. 

You reacted on instinct. You don’t remember much, just terrified screaming from the man and something in you that turned feral, monstrous.

Staring out the window, you watched with cold eyes as the man’s broken body cracked open upon the stony ground, then you inhaled sharply, coming back to yourself. 

“Hypnos?” You called out even though you knew he couldn’t respond as you rushed to his bedside. Hypnos slept on, peacefully unaware of what almost happened. You breathed for the first time, your heart pounding in your chest. 

You ripped off the bloody gloves and threw it away on the floor. You cupped his face, relief flooding your body at the touch of his skin. 

Without thinking, you pressed a tender yet fierce kiss on his forehead. You closed your eyes, inhaling the clean and warm skin scent that was purely Hypnos.

Slowly, you pulled away, guilt began to creep in. It might have not been on his lips but it was still something you had no right to. 

Then his expression shifted, his brow furrowed. You stared, blood rushing toward your ears. Surely not. You were no prince, you didn’t have a drop of blue blood in your veins. 

Heavenly golden eyes revealed themselves as Prince Hypnos blinked awake. He looked confused at first, his own fingers reaching up to brush against your hands.

Then his lips curled up into a breathtaking smile. His quiet laugh was rough but so perfect to your ears. 

“Well, hello there, Prince Charming.”

~

Bully (Teacher!au)

It was one of those gorgeous blue, sunny days that actually made kids want to be outside. Mostly.

”Get off the phone and on the track. I don’t get paid for you to sit around and do nothing.” You ordered, ignoring snippy teenage grumbling as they obeyed. You had learned when to pick battles a long time ago.

A few minutes later, you jogged along the track with the kids, ordering some to pick up the pace, and correcting those whose running form needed improvement. 

You never liked when your own sport coaches just sat there and did nothing so whenever you could, you did the same activities with kids, just like your old man.

It seemed worked since they listened to you more than other coaches

Hell, when you were bored, you made up challenges. The last one being whoever landed a homerun from you could get a free soda from the vending machine on your dime. 

You ended up paying three winners and swayed two of the kids into trying out for the softball team. The other one was already on the track team and busy.

When you spied one of your captains of your wrestling team standing by the fence, waving a paper at you with a sour expression, you broke off.

”I failed.” Nemesis huffed as you scowled at the bright, red ‘F’ on the top. You saw the teacher’s name, Mr. Chthon. one of those artsy teachers you never met if you remembered correctly. Maybe that old man who talked too much during staff meetings?

“And he won’t let me redo it or extra credit or nothing.” She explained as you shot her a look. “And I asked. Nicely.” She added when you lifted a doubtful eyebrow.

This wasn’t good, the school had high standards for their students and with this ugly mark, it meant Nemesis was benched until she improved.

You called for the assistant coach and had them take over. You gestured for Nemesis to lead you to the classroom. 

”Just a quick talk with this Mr.Chthon.” You told her. “Once I tell him about the scholarship on the line, I’m sure he will work with us.”

The school you taught at was a larger one, with plentiful funding and staffed with people who actually gave a shit about kids. You loved this place. However you never really met people past the sport department, beyond staff meetings and such.

Mr.Chthon was an unknown but Nemesis was a good kid, just rough around the edges and needed more supportive adults in her life- although you would never tell that to her face. 

When you saw the empty classroom, you were right about him being an artsy type, the walls were lined with quotes from famous books, artwork from people you names you never bothered to remember. And pictures of red poppies for some reason.

You leaned toward her and whispered, “What subject is this again?”

”Creative writing, I was told it would be an easy A.” She said, not bothering to lower her voice. You rolled your eyes, teenagers.

”Can I help you?” A soft male voice reached your ears, you turned around, expecting an old man.

Only to come face to face with the most gorgeous man you ever met. The first thing you saw was the snowy curls, spilling over his chest, a contrast against his scarlet shawl. 

Your mouth went dry when you saw the hint of a delicate collarbone. 

His arms crossed when he saw Nemesis. Even covered up as he was, you knew he was slender, fine boned judging from the lovely elfin features of his face. What really held your attention was the honey gold eyes, framed by a pair of bright red heart-shaped glasses. 

It should have looked ridiculous but you were charmed by the silliness of it.

A small, blonde girl peered around him, her mismatched eyes nervously on Nemesis. 

“Mr. Chthon?” You asked lowly, then at his nod, you cleared your throat. “I’m Coach Osisan, I run the wrestling team. I wanted to speak to you about Ms. Nemesis’ grades.”

”I see.” He commented, his voice cool. and turned around to the girl. Melionë, you remembered suddenly, Zagreus’ little sister. 

This time, when he spoke, his tone was warmer. “We will have to look over your other poem another time, but I really, really like what you did with the Greek mythology reference with the father and the son. Took me right to the sun.”

“T-thank you, Mr.Chthon.” Melionë said, before fleeing out the room like a rabbit from a hawk. She casted one last glance to Nemesis before turning the corner.

Nemesis scoffed, looking guilty when she shifted on her feet. You took the paper from her and pointed toward the door. “Wait for me in the hallway while Mr.Chthon and I discuss your grades. Close the door.”

She nodded, her shoulders hunched defensively as she closed the door with a loud click.

Then you were alone with him.  Alone with what might be one of the most lovely humans you've ever seen.

He took the paper from you, his eyes skimming over it.

”Mr. Chthon-“ you began to say but he shook his head.

”Just call me Hypnos, we are both adults here.” He said, his eyes bright with amusement. “Did she tell you why I gave her a failing grade?”

”Hypnos.” You amended, giving him your own first name. “And no, she didn’t.”

”Read it.” He said, handing it over with a wry smile growing on his lovely face. One of his fingers twisting a white curl. You tried not to stare. 

With a confused nod, you did as you were ordered. Then groaned quietly. Nemesis didn’t even try. She typed- or just copy and pasted- literally the same word over and over.   

“I don’t like giving out failing grades. Nothing kills creativity faster than an unkind grade. I normally can accept creative differences but not when there isn't any effort behind it.” Hypnos told you with a kind laugh, walking over to his files cabinet. 

He had to bend down to open the bottom drawer, his adorable rump in the air. You took a guilty moment to appreciate the sight before locking your stare back on the paper. 

Hypnos brought over a file with Nemesis’ name label on it as he rambled on. People who talked too much normally pissed you off but Hypnos sounded just so sweet. 

“She hasn't been turning in her work. And the ones she had turned in- I have the students do a little bit of daily writing for homework, anything they want and I love it when they go crazy but the ones she has given me- well I will let you see it.”

Pulling out a paper, it showed nothing but drawing of the female anatomy. “I mean, bravo on drawing what they actually look like in real life but this isn’t writing.”

You winced like someone stepped on your foot and closed your eyes. You had thought you were dealing with another small minded person who couldn’t tolerate a girl like Nemesis who was sharp, could go toe to toe with anyone and wasn’t afraid to speak her mind.

But you ended up finding the world's most tolerant teacher. Anyone else would have sent her to the principal a dozen times over by now.

”She told me she asked you nicely for a chance for a redo or for extra credit.” Your tone was pained as you went through the rest of Nemesis’ file. Hypnos bit his lip, twisting a long curl with a delicate finger again.

”Nemesis did ask me and ninety- nine percent of the time I would have happily done so.” Hypnos admitted. “But after the unnecessary bullying at Melionë’s presentation during class today, along with stealing her lunch money this morning, I decided not to give Nemesis a chance for re-do.”

You stared in disbelief. Hypnos met your eyes with a steadfast gaze. He was painfully adorable in those silly glasses of his. 

“That doesn’t sound like the Nemesis I know.” Your eyes flickering toward the door. You tried to remember if she told you if anything happened at home with her shitty parents. Yeah she had a temper but she didn't normally lash out like this.

You had told her multiple times to let you know if she needed anything but she had shrugged you off, trying to act tougher than she needed to be.

Snapping the file close, you rubbed your jaw in frustration. Hypnos was patient, letting you gather your thoughts.

“Look, Nemesis is a good kid. Really, she always handles herself well as my captain.” You told him quietly. “I wasn’t aware of her behavior in this class and you better believe I am going to talk to her about that.”

Hypnos inclined his head, waiting for you to continue. 

“I can’t say much, but her home life is shit. She had a lot going on, nothing that a kid should have to deal with.” There was no point in softening the painful truth, but you weren’t going to let it be an excuse either. Hypnos blinked, a flash of parental concern on his face. 

Good, that meant you could make this work.

“Let me work with her, she got a scholarship riding on her wrestling career here and it is a real chance to get her life on the right path.” You finished, watching Hypnos carefully.

He was quiet, giving you an assessing stare. For a moment, you thought he would still say ‘no’.

Then he nodded, going to his computer and typing quickly. You let out a breath, before you noticed there was a sleep mask dangling from a monitor. You chuckled, “Take naps often?”

”Oh, I wish. I definitely miss teaching kindergarteners sometimes.” Hypnos laughed, as his printer came to life. Once the papers came out, he grabbed a highlighter. You winced when you saw how much he was using it.

“Okie dokie, these are all of the missing assignments. She has until the end of next week to turn them in.” Hypnos pushed them toward you with a sympathetic grin. “And one more thing, I want Nemesis to write Melinoë an apology letter. And pay her lunch money back.”

“Consider it done.” You told him, and pointed at a stack of post-its. “Let me give you my classroom number, you can call me if you need anything.”

”Well, alrightie but I might just call you for move something heavy for me.” Hypnos warned playfully.

”I won’t mind.” You told him in a quiet tone, writing the number down. Hypnos ducked his head with a smile, pushing his adorable glasses back up. You thought you saw a faint blush on his cheeks.

You were a grown man but there was an incredible satisfaction in your chest, one that made you feel like a teenager, just from making this beautiful man blush. 

When you and him stepped out, you scowled when you realized Nemesis wasn’t close by. Hypnos tapped your shoulder and pointed down the hallway in the opposite direction.

Leaning against the lockers was Nemesis blocking in Melionë with an arm over her head, leaning in close. Only Melionë didn’t look as terrified as she did earlier, her cheeks flushed pink, tucking her hair behind her ear.

You and Hypnos shared a glance. Teenagers.

“Cover your ears.” You warned him, taking a step away from him. Hypnos obeyed, a curious smile growing. You inhaled, and with two fingers, gave an eardrum shattering whistle.

Nemesis and Melionë jumped, both looking embarrassed although Nemesis looked like she was planning where your grave was going to be. 

“Captain, get over here.” You barked, making your displeasure clear and Nemesis came to you, muttering a ‘later’ to Melionë and she replied with a sweet ‘goodbye.’

You waved the papers at Nemesis, “You and I need to have a chat.” 

She crossed her arms but didn’t try to argue. Hypnos was watching Nemesis with a neutral expression. 

“Nemesis.” Hypnos waited until she looked at him and he gave her a smile. “I am really glad you reached out to your Coach. If you ever need something, please don’t forget you can come to me too.”

You gave her a pointed look when she didn’t say anything. 

“Thank you, Mr. Chthon.” She said, in that way only sullen teenagers can. You were definitely going to have to work on whatever the hell it was that made her act like this.

“Mr.Chthon.” You said with a nod.

”Coach Osisan.” Hypnos returned with a smile.

With that, you and her walked off.

A few weeks later, after the longest, mind numbing staff meeting you ever had, you and Hypnos found each other walking the same path. 

“How is Nemesis doing in class?” You asked and Hypnos went into detail, pushing his adorable glasses up his nose. It had been a painful month of long talks and getting her caught up, however it seemed she had turned over a new leaf.

”I guess Melionë had something to do with that.” Hypnos said with a knowing glance, shifting the thick files in his arms with a huff.

You scoffed, gods save you from high school romance. You gestured toward the many files in his arms. “Need help with that?”

“Are you offering to carry my books for me, Coach Osisan?” Hypnos teased, a delighted gleam in his perfect gold eyes. 

You chuckled, “You did say you would let me know if you needed something heavy moved, Mr.Chthon.”

Hypnos laughed and handed more than half of the stack over. 

And if you and Hypnos just so happened to keep finding each other on campus and during coffee breaks in the teacher’s lounge, well that was just between you and him. 

~

Past (Reincarnation!Au)

It felt like there were thousands of yous now, all at once. Even though you knew that couldn’t be. Or at least you didn’t think so. You were never good at the theory part of space and time. 

The smell of coffee took you somewhere else - a soulmate on the run, and you gave chase.

Or the sweet laughter of children - a little boy, one that looked so much like Hypnos, clinging on to your hand as you led him to the ocean and his surprised, happy laugh made your heart soar.

The cast of blue lights- Hypnos’ hands were deep in your insides, his welding mask over his face as he rebuilt you from the inside out.

“How do you deal with this?” You asked Hypnos when you found him inside your kitchen. He blinked those heavy, luminous eyes at you with a spatula in his hand. He was in the middle of trying to cook a human recipe, with spice jars and a stray tomato on the counter.

It also smelled like something was burning but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that.

He had seemed determined to make your quarters a home, bringing in soft blankets and pillows and all kinds of stuff he insisted that made a home a real home. He had taken up trying to cook for you when you got done with work, like a little housewife or something.

You thought you would hate it at first. 

Only it felt right, for Hypnos to be a part of your life like this, like he was a support beam you didn’t realize was missing.

”The memories. They will slow down eventually.” He said with a nod. He prodded at the vegetables in the skillet, biting his lip. ”I just let the memories flow over me. I don’t mind them.” 

He glanced at you, nervous as his wings fluttered adorably in confusion.“Do you not want them?”

Them. Was he talking about the memories or about all the other lives, the other version of yous and hims? 

You didn’t know. It wasn’t that however. You just didn’t know what to do with it, with all the yous and all of the hims that existed. You shook your head.

”It isn’t that. I just don’t think I can drink rum anymore.” You told him. 

Hypnos smiled at that. “You had some last night.”

You did and all you could smell for the rest of the night was the salty ocean, the sensation of a cool spray of water against your face. You could almost hear their voices, the songs of the crew as they sung under a pale moon. 

And there was Hypnos, beautiful as the stars and just as out of reach, playing with a knight chess piece as he sang quietly along.

“That had been a good life.” Hypnos sighed, rather dreamily as he stirred the vegetables again. 

A spike of irrational jealousy hit your gut. “That version of me was an asshole.” You grumbled, going over to him to see if there was anything you could do to help.  As if it would make up for being an asshole in another life.

Hypnos just gave you a mysterious smile, tipping his face up for a kiss. You cupped his chin, pressing your lips against his. His wings brushed against your cheeks, soft as silk.

Once the kiss broke, you glanced down at the food and grimaced before you could stop yourself.  You quickly turned off the stove, you were going to have to find why the fire alarm didn’t go off. Another thing to add to the list.

Hypnos tilted his head, “I thought you humans like fire roasted food?”

”Just not that cooked.” You told him gently, a hand on his lower back. You and him stared down at pitch black food. You thought one piece might have once been a carrot but you couldn’t be sure.

Three in the morning, your hands kneading dough as you listened to a sleepy podcaster’ voice. It was the only thing that brought you peace anymore.

“Oh.” Hypnos’s wings droop, brushing his shoulders. You kissed his temple, and lifted his face toward your with a finger curled under his chin.

”Have you tried pizza yet?”

His wings shot up immediately, nearly hitting you in the head, his smile brighter than all of the suns in the universes.

~

Dreams and memories were one and the same at this point.

Sticky soda and butter popcorn, children’s nonsense chatter as Star Wars played, a very red sleeping bag and a shy smile in the dark.

When you woke up, Hypnos was clinging to you, his arms and legs tangled with yours. With a sigh, you turned your head to study him. His wing folded over his eyes as a sleeping mask. There were markings on the feathers to mimic eyes. 

His kind dominated their planet now, but it wasn’t always like that. And the body never forgets, not really.

With gentle fingers, you traced the eyes. 

Oh glorious flight, you never wanted to come down. Small, delicate hands in yours. Hypnos’ own wings couldn’t fly but that was fine, you were strong enough for both of them. You always will be.

You swallowed, tears forming your eyes. Something bad happened in that lifetime. A deep instinct whispering to you, it was a breathless kind of heartbreak under your ribcage.

Like you were falling from a great height.

Suddenly, Hypnos wasn’t close enough. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him to your chest. That woke him up, his wings lifting away from his face and he mumbled something you couldn’t understand. the language unknown to your ears.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.” You said roughly into his curls, tightening your arms around him. Hypnos made a soft noise, one filled with understanding. His wings reached over, cupping the back of your head. 

It was so warm, soft that it made you sigh, shifting back just enough to see him. The world was just you and him now, encased by feathers smooth as silk. Hypnos shifted, his expression oddly serious for him. 

“I’m sorry. I wish that we only remember the good ones.” He whispered, his hand over your racing heart.

”No. it is better to remember the bad as well.” You whispered back, leaning in as if you were going to kiss him. “So we can appreciate the good ones all the better.”

Hypnos kissed you. 

You hummed into the kiss, returning it feverishly. There were soft gasps of pleasure, murmured words between needy kisses, roaming hands and when you pushed inside of him, his limbs and wings still clinging to you, it felt perfect like you were whole once more.

It was just you and him in this whole universe.

[written-in-flowers]

Be the Light: Pt. 1 (SeongjoongxReader)

Pairing: Hongjoong x Seonghwa x Fem!reader | Side pairing(s): Ateez x Fem!reader.

Word Count: 7k

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

AU: historical!au, arranged marriage!au, royalty!au

Summary: YN has spent her entire life in service of Han Sookmyung, Queen of Hanseong. She never dreamed above her station, or that she'd ever be in reach of Sookmyung's concubines, 'The Golden Ones'. But, when secrets are brought to life, her world is turned upside-down.

Warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, heavily referenced torture (briefly), heavily referenced abuse (briefly), heavily referenced sexual abuse (briefly), enslavement, slight gaslighting, lost sibling, political drama, historical drama, joseon!au, concubine!ateez, nsfw content, virgin!reader, polyamory, polygamous, throuple, threesome m/m/f, oral sex (m. and f. receiving/giving), cunnlingus, vaginal fingering, vaginal sex, virgin sex, virginity discussed

And thank you so much @daesukiii for beta reading this fic!! It's well appreciated!💕💕

NOTE: THIS STORY IS CURRENTLY ON HIATUS

Part 2 >

***

"YN!"

You heard her howl your name from down the hall. The sound of her voice made you quicken your pace, a streak of panic striking through you. 

"YN! YN, where are you?!”

Her voice sent ice cold water through your veins. You’d left her alone with the others for only a moment. What could possibly have happened in the span of five minutes? A slew of scenarios ranging in severity ran through your mind. Somebody brushed her hair too hard. Somebody smeared her lip paint. Somebody said the wrong thing or the right thing but in the wrong way. You preferred not thinking of what she’d done to that person. 

“YN!”

You walked through the wooden hallway, keeping your head down to not draw much attention to yourself. A habit, you supposed, that you’d learned since being her handmaiden. Finally reaching her room, you gave the guard outside a single glance and he slid the door open for you. 

“She’s in a mood today,” he told you gruffly. “You’d think after the night she had, she’d be more docile.”

“She’s never docile,” you replied. “I’ll handle her.”

“As always.” 

You didn’t find her in the front room of her apartments, where servants put out her morning tea and breakfast spread. Walking past the red and cream colored couches, with their low wooden tables, you moved past more servants cleaning the window frames and floors spotless. You opened the doors leading into her bedroom. Two maids in plain hanboks changed her bed sheets and fluffed her pillows. They gave you both a concerned look, which you replied to with a nod.

“YN!”

“Your Majesty, I am here. What is your command?”

Sookmyung stood on a platform in the middle of her dressing room. Four girls dressed in white hanboks kept their heads down and hands clasped together, a sign of their subservience to the woman. Queen Han Sookmyung only wore the emerald skirt of her hanbok, her long black hair unbraided and falling down her back, and you saw the issue immediately. The top layer of her gown laid on the floor at her feet, a bundle of more emerald cloth bordered with golden vines.

“My command is that I want these imbeciles out of my sight!” she screeched, stamping her foot on the platform. “I told this one to bring the blue and gold one. She brought the green and gold!”

“A simple mistake, Your Majesty, I am sure,” you said calmly, walking further into the room. “Aro,” you turned to one of the handmaidens nearest you, “Please bring Her Majesty the dark blue and gold dress. It’s in the fourth box on the second shelf.” She bowed to you, then briskly left for the closet in the other room.

“YN, send them away. I cannot stand looking at them any longer.”

“You are all dismissed for now.”

The remaining handmaidens bowed, then left the room without a word. You moved over to her and began untying the skirt from her torso. Discontent still read on Sookmyung’s thin, oval face. Once the young queen flew into one of her rages, it was difficult to bring her back down. It was why you instructed the handmaidens to do as she said down to the last word. It saved everyone lots of trouble. 

When you gingerly removed the skirt, leaving her in the underskirt and undergarments, you saw yourself in the long mirror. Your white dress nearly blended in with the brightly colored room around you.  Like all female monarchs, she surrounded herself with handmaidens. The distinction was Sookmyung demanded her female servants be virgins, who all wore white to make Sookmyung stand out against them. Being the eldest of her handmaidens, a companion since childhood, your uniform differed in the red ribbon keeping your top half closed. Yet, even then you mustn’t draw too much attention to yourself. How can The Queen shine if her servants looked more beautiful than her? 

“They’re such simpletons,” she grunted. “I do not know what is so difficult. How can one possibly confuse blue with green?”

“I am certain she misheard you, Your Majesty.” Deflect her displeasure. You glanced over to the vanity where someone laid out her jewelry. They’d chosen the dangling gold earrings and matching hair ornaments. “Look at this set, Your Majesty,” you gave a soft gasp, walking over to the jewelry, “These earrings are absolutely divine! Are they not?”

“They are fine enough,” she replied haughtily. “At least the fool chose something that matches.”

“Indeed,” you agreed. “I am surprised she had any fashion sense at all, to be honest.”

“My thoughts exactly,” she sneered, flipping a loose strand of hair from her shoulder. “Send the idiot away when she returns. You will dress me today.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.”

When the girl returned, you took the long, flat box and dismissed her quietly. Not a sound. Not a whisper or a mumble. That was how servants communicated: discreetly and hurriedly. With everyone gone, only you two remained. You began unwrapping the separate pieces of Sookmyung’s dress from the box. The blue skirt remained plain, while golden dragons interweaved around her shoulders and along the middle of the top. The gold paint shined whenever she moved her torso, and the voluminous skirt gave an illusion of gliding instead of walking.

“I am taking visitors today,” she mused as you began brushing her hair. You took care not to let the brush snag in her waist-length strands. The ring on her finger looked like it’d cut your cheek. “Merchants and common people.”

“Your people wish to speak with you, Your Majesty,” you replied, pulling back her hair to start braiding. “They seek your wisdom and guidance.”

“As they should,” she said, admiring the golden ring on her finger. “I am their queen. They need to heed my words and obey them.”

You would’ve told her that giving advice and giving commands are different things, but you knew better.

After many failed pregnancies, King Siwon and Queen Jisoo finally produced a child in their fourth year. Sookmyung became her father’s sole heir to the throne. Being the only heir, the king groomed his daughter for rule. You wanted to say that Sookmyung ignored her lessons and took no interest in them, but that is far from the truth. Sookmyung devoured her father’s wise council and listened attentively at his elbow. She followed the master at arms around the training yard, learning how to use a sword and bow. She spent time in the stables learning how to tame and ride horses. Everyone hoped her eagerness meant she’d be a good and capable queen, but you knew better. Unlike the king’s council, you knew why Sookmyung took to the idea of ruling the kingdom so quickly.

There’d be nobody to stop her. 

“I heard Kim Haneul wishes to propose to you,” you said, hoping the gossip keeps her occupied. You styled her hair up from her face to accentuate her facial features and long neck, sliding bejeweled pins to keep it in place. “He has had his eye on you for a long time.”

“Which one is he again?” she asked, stumped. “He isn’t the fat one, is he?”

“No, Your Majesty,” you faked an amused giggle. You grabbed her eoyeo meori, the circular wig with its golden adornments. Placing it as a halo around her head before pinning it in place, you continued. “That is Advisor Heechul’s son. Haneul is the son of the new Duke of Daegu. He’s that handsome one who won your archery contest at last year’s harvest festival. I heard from some of the maids that he favors you highly.”

“Of course he does,” she scoffed, double checking the work you’d done. “I’m a queen. He’s a common nobleman.”

“Yes, he is,” you nodded, “But he will approach you nevertheless, Your Majesty.”

“Who told you this nonsense?”

“One of the kitchen hands,” you told her, picking up a powder box from the vanity. “She said she overheard it from Haneul and one of his companions. I thought I’d tell you to prepare you for it should he ask today.” You then added, “I know how much you dislike surprises. I’d hate for him to spring it on you, and you be flustered in making a decision.”

“Yes, I do despise it.” She kept herself still as you began lightly applying powder to her face. “Haneul…Haneul…You say he’s the handsome archer from last year?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Hm, must not be remarkable if I did not collect him already,” she mused. A small smile crossed her face, “Have you seen my flowers today, YN?”

“I haven’t,” you answered honestly. “You know as well as I that no one is permitted in your garden.”

“Oh, my beautiful flowers,” she sighed softly. “They bring me such comfort.” 

You saw her eyes glaze over as they did when she spoke of Them. Those at court called them ‘The Golden Ones’, but Sookmyung called them her ‘flowers’. You pondered on the men while you finished painting her lips. Upon his death, king Siwon had twenty-five concubines living in the “private gardens” near the king’s quarters. Sookmyung dismissed them all the morning after his death, determined to fill it with concubines of her own. You and her advisors told her queens did not usually take male concubines, since she is meant to marry and produce children. Sookmyung ignored all of you. During her war campaign across the country, she searched for handsome men to bring into her harem. Yet, with all things, she was picky. Her concubines needed to be ethereal beauties; they needed to be trophies that would make her the envy of the court. She eventually found them, imprisoned them, and then put them in the gardens to do what she pleased. 

Sookmyung currently has eight concubines. No doubt should another war arise, she will steal more sons.

“Tell the guard to bring my flowers to the throne room today,” she said, admiring herself in the mirror when you finished. “I wish for them to be there. They do bring me relief on days like today.”

“At once, Your Majesty.” You picked up a purple perfume box, but Sookmyung shook her head. 

“No, not jasmine. Hongjoong detests jasmine scents.”

‘He does not. It’s you he detests.’ 

“Then will you prefer the lavender or the rose perfume?”

“Lavender. It has such a calming effect on him,” she said when you started dabbing the scent on her neck and wrists. “My fiery blossom. I know he will be furious if that fool Haneul comes forward. His jealousy is only outmatched by my own, I’m afraid.”

“Well, seeing other men fawn over you must make him believe your love for him will wane and disappear,” a male voice said from somewhere behind you. “We cannot fault him for his emotions.”

You turned your head to see an old man walk into the room. His salt-and-pepper hair cut short, he’d left his thin mustache and beard growing past throat to his chest. Wrinkled by age, Senior Advisor Choi Wonshik served the royal family since Sookmyung’s grandfather’s time. In the red robes of a first rank advisor, he walked further into the room. He smiled at Sookmyung, giving her a slight bow as their eyes met. 

“Senior Advisor,” Sookmyung said, looking back at herself, “What brings you here?”

“I came to see if you’d be joining us in the throne hall for petitions this morning,” he asked. “The other advisors and I believe it will show the people an image of concern if you are seen on your father’s throne-”

“-You mean my throne,” she cut him off. “I am the queen.”

“Apologies, Your Majesty,” he smiled, giving a nod of the head, “Old habits die hard.”

“Or easily,” you heard her mutter. “But, yes I will be there today. Tell the other officials to worry.”

“That is a relief to hear,” he grinned. “We look forward to seeing you there.”

“Mhm-hm.”

His attention turned to you, “Good day, YN.”

“Good day, Senior Advisor,” you gave a slight bow and a smile. 

It was the briefest of glances but you noticed it right away. Eyes lined with crows feet looked between you and Sookmyung, with a certain disappointment lingering in them. The expression did not sit right with you, but it was not your place to question. Advisor Choi left, and you and Sookmyung were alone again. He seemed to be filled with words he could not say out loud. Then again, many people did the same. It was Sookmyung’s chuckle that caught your attention.

“The old man likes you,” she cackled. “Out of all the men in the world, it’s the ancient one.”

“He was being polite,” you said to her, cheeks burning from her laughter. 

“He doesn’t have to be ‘polite’ to you,” she said. “He outranks you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted you as his concubine. It is disgusting to think about,” she shuddered, “Those knobbly hands on you and those lips. Don’t worry, YN. I won’t let him touch you.”

“That is kind of you, Your Majesty.”

“You must be envious of me, YN. I have my beautiful flowers and you have nobody,” she said thoughtfully, “I spend ages worshiping Seonghwa’s gorgeous body or listening to Jongho sing and you're here all alone. It must be sad."

“It can be, but I hope one day that will change,” you told her. You grabbed the blue overcoat from the box, letting her stand to put it on her. “I may find someone who is patient and clever. The kind of man who treats his lady well and is gracious and kind.” A man such as Seonghwa. But, that was a thought you immediately pushed out. 

“Men like that are needles in a haystack. Only I have been fortunate to find such lovely beauties like my flowers,” she said. “Like Hongjoong…”

You followed her out of the bedroom. Hongjoong’s face came to the forefront of your mind. The last of Sookmyung’s flowers, he’d quickly become her favorite. You saw how he fawned over her, and constantly whispered things in her ear that made her giggle. Secretly, you wished it was you he whispered to, but you knew that wouldn’t be. Hongjoong is placed far out of your reach, just like the rest of them. As you followed her out of her room, you bit your lip thinking about the last time she made you stay in their “garden”. Sookmyung took delight in seeing you flustered and squirming when she took one of them. Like all her handmaidens, you’d kept your virginity intact, which she enjoyed teasing you about. But, if you had your pick, you'd have him or Seonghwa. Possibly even both. 

Four men dressed in black and red leather armor met you outside her chambers. You whispered the summons to one of them, and he passed it along to one of the guards at the main doors. A wooden palanquin sat at the bottom steps of the residency building, a red awning keeping the sun from hitting Sookmyung as she climbed inside. You, however, stayed on the outside. You eyed the spot beside her, a seat wide enough for you both to fit, but you knew she’d never offer it to you. The queen rides in the palanquin. Her handmaiden walks. 

“But you wouldn’t understand anything about that,” Sookmyung giggled as the footmen lifted the litter and the group moved. You walked steadily at her side, making sure to keep yourself in step. Move too slow, and she’ll complain that you’re lagging behind. Move too quickly, and she’ll accuse you of trying to upstage her. “You are unmarried and are still a virgin.”

“That does not mean I cannot love, Your Majesty, or understand how it works,” you replied calmly. You sensed the taunt skirting around her words, and you braced yourself for more. “I see how Hongjoong and the others are when you’re in their presence. It is like seeing heaven on earth. They worship you. They adore you. I think we all can only hope for such love to come into our lives.”

“How sweet,” she pouted, “It must be nice to have such naive and fanciful dreams about love. I’m afraid it is not always so heavenly.” You noticed her face turn sour, “I see how those little harlots in court gawk at them whenever they pass. They see my flowers and sigh over them.” You saw her fold her hands over one another on her lap, “I remember that one idiot who tried seducing my Mingi. She had that pathetic, simpering smile and that obnoxious laugh. Ugh, it was a humiliating display," a wicked smirk came across her face, "But, I put a stop to that all together. You remember that, do you not, YN?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I do.” 

Lady Seulgi, a noblewoman draped in expensive adornments, had come to the palace during a birthday celebration. You recall how Sookmyung spotted her eyeing Mingi, one of the concubines, and the jealousy flaring in her eyes. You’d done all you could to convince Sookmyung that she saw nothing; Lady Seulgi happened to look in his direction, that was all. This lie worked for a time, before someone else spotted Lady Seulgi trying to corner Mingi in the palace garden. Sookmyung immediately had Lady Seulgi thrown into the dark, secluded jails in the back of the palace. Walking up the steps of a gate to reach the throne hall, you recall seeing Lady Seulgi removed of her finery and forced into a roughspun tunic. The beautiful, bold lady you’d seen that night became a filthy, frightened creature within days. You tried not remembering the stubs of her missing fingers, or the screams she made when Sookmyung pulled out her toenails one at a time. 

‘Make her ugly. Make her so ugly nobody will look at her.’ 

Nobody heard from Seulgi ever again. 

You spotted masses of people filling the wide throne courtyard. Nobles and commoners alike came to petition their problems to the queen, and it created a multi-colored sea of people in the square. Right when the palanquin passed through the gate, a group of soldiers dressed in red and white began playing on either side of the large doors. Two held horns, two banged on drums, one with cymbals, and another held a gong as they walked down the aisle. 

“The Queen is entering!” the leader called out in a booming voice, which caught everyone's attention. 

The daechwita played as they led the procession towards the throne hall. You kept your eyes to the ground now, making yourself as invisible as possible, and followed the palanquin the entire way. You chanced a glance at Sookmyung, whose eyes danced with pride. This is what she loved. This is why she scorched villages and killed kings. The power that emanated from the people bowing to her seemed to swell in her chest. You pitied anyone who upset her today.  They may end up the same way as Lady Seulgi if they’re not careful. 

The palanquin reached the throne hall’s platform, and footmen helped Sookmyung out of it. You briskly straightened out the back of her gown, and then stepped out of her way. The throne hall was wide with open windows, lattice walls, and a high decorative ceiling. Before his death, the king sat on the throne of his ancestors before him. A red throne painted with gold dragons, with a folded screen stood behind depicting the sun, moon, and mountains. It took someone three steps to reach the top of the platform, which only gave enough space for the king and two bodyguards to occupy. 

When Sookmyung came into power, she expanded on this inch by inch. She rebuilt the throne itself to have a taller back to rest on, and raised the platform a several more steps to open it up. This way, her concubines may sit on the steps in comfort, lounging peacefully on display for the whole court. Nobody said it out loud, but you knew why she wanted them with her. How can she flaunt her victories if the trophies are hidden behind garden walls? It made you sick. She not only desecrated the ancient throne, which for centuries stood as a symbol of dignity, but put her own proudful twist on it as well. You followed her up the steps, and walked right to your place in the shadows of the high dais. 

“All hail the Queen!” the singer called out. 

“All hail the Queen!” most of the crowd repeated back. 

Back in her father’s day, the king would speak to his subjects directly. He’d thank them for traveling to visit him, and begin accepting petitions and propositions. Sookmyung stayed silent, eyeing the crowd, while Senior Advisor Choi stepped in front of the throne. 

“Good people, good people,” he called, “It is our queen’s great delight and honor to host you here in her grand throne hall today. She is very interested to hear your thoughts and find solutions for your concerns. May the first of the petitioners step forward, please.”

The first to approach were two men. You took in their haggard appearance: clothes hanging from their skinny frames, worn out shoes on their feet, and their skin tanned from years in the sun. You could tell they must work outdoors, most likely in one of Sookmyung’s rice or spice fields. The taller man spoke up first, fire in his voice already.

“Your Majesty, I have been severely wronged in your great country,” he began. “This man,” he pointed to the person beside him, “Has been extending his land onto mine little by little for several months now!”

“Your Majesty, I have done no such thing! I was merely rebuilding my fences, and happened to accidentally-”

“-Accidentally? Ha, please! Do not try to fool us into believing you do not know where your land ends and mine begins,” his opponent retorted. “You have been rebuilding that fence of yours for quite some time. The stakes from the last rebuild are still in the ground, and they are several feet from where they’d been before.”

“My son has been helping me, Your Majesty,” the man said to Sookmyung. “He is not the brightest of boys, but he is strong and helpful to me in my old age. He must have marked the line wrong-”

“-How despicable! To blame your deception on your own flesh and blood-”

“-I am only providing a possible explanation! Besides, why do you care? It is not as if you tend to your fields regularly or properly. I have seen the grain you grow. It is subpar at best, and inedible at worst. I am the superior farmer, therefore I should have more land…”

“This is so boring,” Sookmyung mumbled loud enough for you to hear. “Who cares about a stupid farm?”

“Their farms are important to them, Your Majesty,” you replied. “It is the only way they can feed themselves and their families.”

“Psh, as if they are now. Look how skinny they are. It’s appalling.”

“Yes, it is.”

Your heart sank hearing the two men describe their feud to one another. You thought of your own solution: You would’ve told them to have an official come and inspect the property lines for them to have an unbiased opinion. You’d pay builders from the city to repair the fence damage and realign it to avoid any more confusion. They would have done that already if they could afford to pay for the help. Sookmyung’s high taxes and the wealthy’s low wages make it difficult for the common folk of the kingdom to live properly. The few times you’d gone into the city for her, you’d seen the way most of them live day-to-day. They’re starving, unable to properly care for themselves or their children, and barely afford to pay their land owners. In their desperation, many of them venture into the Queen’s forest to hunt for food, with hopes of not being caught by guards roaming the perimeters. Others resort to criminal activities, since the slum lords pay much better than their law abiding counterparts. Sookymung’s kingdom fell into poverty because of the grand lifestyle she wished to live and the wars she'd waged. While her people starved, the queen and her elite nobles dined and dressed well. It sickened you to your stomach. 

“...Which of them brings in more grain?” Sookmyung asked the senior advisor. 

Senior Choi looked to Advisor Park, the master of coin who took care of the kingdom’s finances. It took the middle-aged man a moment, but he eventually found their names and most recent tax payments. The accused paid more in his taxes and supplied more grain than his accuser.

“Then it is clear that he deserves more land than this one,” Sookmyung told Choi. “Why give land to a man who cannot contribute to the prosperity of his kingdom and his queen?”

Choi stared up at her, but he did not look as dumbfounded as his fellow advisors. For the briefest moment, you caught disdain in his dark eyes. Nevertheless, he turned away and addressed the men. 

“Then it is clear that…that he deserves more land than this one,” you heard him repeat stoically. “Why give land to a man who cannot contribute to the prosperity of his kingdom and his queen?”

“B-B-But, Your Majesty, my family has owned that farm for many years,” he said imploringly. “It is not right!”

“Perhaps his family should find a new venture and stop wasting my time", Sookmyung huffed. “The man will keep his fence where it is, and you will accept my decision.”

Choi repeated her words verbatim, and the man’s jaw dropped. “Your Majesty-”

“-Next,” she dismissed him through Choi.

Both men were forced to the side by guards. Right as the next person came up, drums and horns suddenly rang throughout the large hall. Sookmyung’s eyes lit up and she beamed at the people entering the room.

“Her Majesty’s concubines approach!” the leader said. “Make way for The Golden Ones! Make way!”

Surrounded by four guards dressed in all black armor walked a group of eight men.

As always, Sookmyung’s concubines wore their black and gold hanboks: Their overcoats of black silk covered most of their body, the wide sleeves ending far past their fingers. Glimmering stones weaved into the intricate floral patterns of their golden sashes, matching the hair pins and jewelry they wore. What separated them the most were their veils. Thin veils hanging from their ears hung to their chests, the sheer fabric dotted with gold pieces to hide their features. Only you and Sookmyung ever saw their faces unmasked. She said the less they revealed of themselves, the less likely anybody would desire them.

A complete and utter lie, in your opinion.

“My beautiful flowers,” she smiled, eyes full of fondness. “So wonderful to see you early in the morning,” she watched them walk up the steps to their assigned seats on the steps.

The farthest was Jongho, who sat on the third step from the bottom, lounging back with one elbow on the step above him. The youngest of her flowers, he kept his black hair in a braid that was woven with gold bands. Formerly an innkeeper’s son, Sookmyung stole him from his family during the end of her campaign. You never forgot how Sookmyung viciously beat the old woman who begged her not to take him; how Jongho did not stop crying the entire way back to the capital.

“Your braid looks lovely today, Jongho,” Sookmyung admired, looking over his round, soft features from afar.

“I am glad you think so, Mistress,” he said, “I added the jewels especially for you.”

“I’m wearing the hair band you gifted me, Mistress,” said a slender boy sitting just above him.

Wooyoung. The son of the Duke of Pyongyang, the siege of his city took Sookmyung only a few days. She often boasted about how their forces retreated from her men like mice. As with the other kingdoms, she gifted the seat of House Jung to one of her allies, and took the duke’s son for herself. Wooyoung fled into the woods, being hunted by Sookmyung and her pack of dogs for several days before being found and dragged to camp. You preferred not thinking about what Sookmyung did to break him.

You noticed the young man winced when he moved to face her. From what you’d gathered, Sookmyung visited his chambers the previous night. Whatever she’d done left him sore and holding back whimpers of pain. The tenderness inside you wished to reach out for him. You wished to comfort and assure him that his pain will subside soon. His wounds will heal and he will be fine. But, how ‘fine’ is he when Sookmyung owns him?

“It looks lovely on you, darling,” Sookmyung said. Another peasant was brought before her, but she ignored him. “You were magnificent last night. You and San both.”

San, muscular and broad, sat across from Wooyoung. Thin eyes flickered with hate before changing to pure seduction. “As were you, Mistress.”

Choi San used to be a soldier in Sookymung’s army. His father, General Choi, was a general who commanded a large portion of her forces. One day, when his battalion was overpowered and forced to retreat, Sookmyung took this failure as a sign of weakness. It inflamed her burning rage, and Sookmyung sentenced the man to a brutal death: being beaten with clubs by his own lieutenants. San was forced to watch the entire thing. From what you’d heard, he still woke up screaming for his father to run.

“Mistress, I’m sleepy,” said the man sitting above San and Wooyoung. Long-limbed with sleek brown hair, he gave an audible yawn and stretched. “I sleep so lightly without you beside me.”

Another sweet lie to fill her head with dreams. Sookmyung’s war took her all over the country, and this meant bypassing several inns and small villages. When attacking Haeju, Sookmyung camped outside a small fishing village right on the west coast. There, she found plenty of provisions and ship builders to repair the damaged fleet. With them came a tall, lean young man with brown hair and a precious smile. Song Mingi. You’d originally thought Sookmyung took Mingi for a fleeting fancy, but when she told him that he’d be joining the other men she’d dragged with her, he naturally refused. It wasn’t until Sookmyung threatened to kill his entire family that he went with her.

Sookmyung burnt down his whole village, ultimately murdering his family anyways.

“Perhaps I may remedy that tonight, lovely,” she replied, smirking at the suggestion. “I wouldn’t want my Mingi to collapse from lack of proper rest.”

“Then what of me, Mistress?” a wide-eyed young man said on the other side. “You said you’d be with me.”

Dainty and petite, Kang Yeosang was also nobility. While not high in rank, his family did supply the opposition with food and resources throughout the war. Sookmyung created the strategy to hit them at their source, which included raiding baggage supply trains moving through the country. Yeosang led one such train, and while his men fought valiantly, they were defeated. Yeosang, having an angelic look to him with doe-like eyes, became another addition to her growing harem. She promised he’d go home if his family surrendered their land and resources to her, so Yeosang agreed. But, Yeosang never went home. It took him a short time to realize that Sookmyung never planned on ransoming him. When he heard her forces invaded his home, slaughtered his family, and claimed it in her name, he knew he’d never see home again.

“You can join us then, Yeosangie,” she cooed.

A peasant woman holding a baby in a blanket came forward, tearful and pleading for her child’s life. Sookmyung hardly listened to her as she addressed the man next to Yeosang: Yunho. Equally as tall as Mingi, he kept his black in a top knot with a black band around his forehead. A servant placed a bowl of grapes in front of him, but he did not eat them. He could never eat with Sookmyung around. She disgusted him to the point of losing his appetite. 

“Yunho, are you not hungry?”

“I had a large breakfast, Mistress.”

He turned his head to answer her, then back to the woman standing before him. She sobbed about how a group of men ransacked her home, taking everything she owned and leaving her with nothing but her life. You saw the pity in his puppy-dog eyes. He dug into the pocket of his overcoat and withdrew a velvet coin purse. You knew that Yunho sometimes secretly slipped silver or gold coins to the servants when possible. 

“Here,” Yunho walked down the steps to her, “For your and your child.”

“S-Sir…” she wept, looking at the large sum in her hand, “I…I cannot…” she glanced at Sookmyung, who glared. “I cannot accept this-”

“-I insist,” Yunho said, not reaching or touching her. It’d put a mark on her back for certain. “You need it more than me.”

“Thank you,” she cried, “Thank you, sir.” 

“Isn’t my Yunho generous?” Sookmyung said, though her grin did not reach her ears. “He is always thinking of others.”

“It is why you noticed me, Mistress, is it not?”

He came back to his seat and your eyes briefly met his. Yunho, not of noble birth, lived in a farming village before outlaws came and raided them. By the time Sookmyung arrived, several villagers either died or were grievously injured. Being the son of the town physician, Yunho tended to several of the children, frightened and wounded from the bandits. Sookmyung not only found it endearing, but saw Yunho’s apparent handsomeness. She promised he’d be her personal physician’s apprentice, learning at the elbow of the finest in the kingdom. He only needed to travel with her for a few days. But, when she placed him in the harem tent with the others, he realized what his role would truly be. It is only fortunate that Yunho is able to tend to whatever wounds the concubines suffer at Sookmyung’s hands.

“It is,” she nodded. “You’re just as sweet as my Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa sat on a cushion a step right beneath Sookmyung. The eldest of the Golden Ones, his sharp jawline and full lips enchanted Sookmyung right away. Son of an advisor to another king, he’d attempted to trade his life for his younger brother, whom she’d gifted to a group of loyalists during her victory celebration. Unfortunately, this did not work. His younger brother was carried off by the men while Seonghwa was dragged to her new chambers. From what you know, Seonghwa hasn’t seen his brother since then. 

His father having been a notable advisor, Senior Advisor Choi has often sought him out for counsel and opinion. You supposed this intelligence is why he’d managed to last so long. He gave her a dashing smile, and spoke in his deep voice.

“But nobody is as sweet as you, Mistress,” he licked his lips, “Nobody certainly tastes as sweet either.”

“Seonghwa,” she flipped open her fan and gave it to you to fan her, “You always know what to say.”

Her eyes then landed on the concubine sitting on her left, elbow on the arm of the throne and appearing bored. Black hair tied back in a ponytail, Sookmyung gifted him with a red headband to wear around his head. Embroidered flowers in the center, this symbol of Sookmyung’s favoritism set him apart from the others. You’re sure that the reason she favored him so highly is not only his handsomeness, but the fact that he’d been a true prince. Hongjoong, Crowned Prince of Wonju. 

Wonju was a peaceful, plentiful kingdom that remained its own nation after the Han clan took over the country. Somewhere far off in the east, you remember the mountain ranges that surrounded the area, high and steep so that very few enemies could pass. It’d been ruled over by the Kim clan, with King Hyungshik at the head. A king in his own right, it was peace terms with the Hans that prevented open warfare. You’d always understood both nations to live side-by-side in harmony. Then Sookmyung became queen, and she could not have another monarch in her country. 

But, Wonju did not fall to Sookmyung as easily. Several bloody and fierce battles were found on land and sea, ripping the two nations apart in the process. Several kingdoms sided with Wonju, but they’d been overpowered by the queen’s men. Sookmyung’s triumph over Wonju became a lasting highlight of her conquest. She’d taken Hongjoong as a further stab to those who’d rebel and oppose her. To her, he is her biggest trophy. 

“Mistress, please let us be done with this riff-raff,” Hongjoong drawled, “And entertain ourselves elsewhere. This business bores me to tears.”

Yet, even after the death of their royal family, the people of Wonju oppose Sookmyung and the man she put in charge of them. Many resistance fighters her armies capture are from Wonju. You wondered at what point did they stop trying to rescue Hongjoong and focus their efforts on usurping Sookmyung. You knew he hated Sookmyung, regardless of what he said to the contrary. You’d hate her too if you were him. But, Hongjoong had secrets of his own.

You’d never tell anyone about the woman you’d seen him meeting at night.

“It is part of my duty as queen, blossom,” she told him, lifting his chin to make him look at her. “Advisor Choi insists I perform my responsibilities as ruler, but the only thing I ever wish to do is be in your arms and in your bed.”

“Then leave these filthy peasants, love,” he took the hand on his chin and held it gently, “And let me admire my queen as a loyal subject should.”

“Hongjoongie…” she breathed,

“Please, Mistress,” he put a yearning into his seductive tone, “It has been so long since you have visited my chambers. You’re always with the others and never with me,” he put a hand on her knee and knelt. You heard him whisper something obscene in her ear, which made her giggle. “…It grows harder in every thought. Do not leave me wanting, Mistress, please. It aches for you…”

This is what Sookmyung wanted: a concubine who professes nothing but undying desire for her. Sookmyung could never truly love anyone, regardless of what she said. Hongjoong knew this, and you admired his tact. It is better to make her believe he needed her than to show his true feelings. You wondered if he thought of the other woman when he said these words. You knew he'd never think of you. 

You saw them after a celebration for Sookmyung’s five-year-reign as queen. You finished helping her into bed and took the shortcut back to the servant’s quarters to rest your tired feet. Cutting through the concubine gardens, you’d heard hushed voices through a hedge. You thought nothing of it at the time, since you thought it must’ve been the wind or an animal nearby. Yet, you then heard the high voice of Kim Hongjoong, followed by another voice. A woman���s voice. Curiosity and shock got the better of you, and you peeked through the high hedge to see their figures in the shadows of the trees. You couldn’t tell what they’d done, since they hid themselves behind dense thickets of shrubbery, but it did not take much to wonder. You never saw the woman, so you guessed she’d gone over the garden wall, but you did see Hongjoong. It did not take a genius to figure out what he’d done. You swore yourself to secrecy; you told yourself that revealing this secret of his to anyone meant death.

“Alright,” she pouted, “I can never say no to this beautiful face of yours…”

“Or my tongue,” he added softly, putting his face inches from hers but never kissing. The veil acted as a barrier that drove her nuts. “Seonghwa will join us, if you wish. He enjoys you just as much as I do. Isn’t that so, Brother?”

“It is,” Seonghwa nodded, but did not approach her.

Your eyes met Hongjoong’s. You wished you could thank him. With Sookmyung occupied with him and his “brothers”, you could see your mother, whom you haven’t seen for two nights. You may even see Queen Jisoo, Sookmyung’s mother. 

“We’re done for today,” Sookmyung told Choi, who nodded stiffly. “Come, flowers.”

One by one they followed her down the steps, and you trailed behind them. Everyone bowed their heads as she walked by, but you couldn’t help seeing their glaring faces. They must’ve waited hours to see her, and she only listened to two or three people. She conquered every kingdom in the country, turning them into wards under her rule, and did nothing to help them. Like the men who trailed behind her, they are spoils of war. Sookmyung squandered their collective wealth, expecting her subjects to accept it without complaint. You wished you knew a way to help, but you’re as powerless as them. You watched Hongjoong climb into Sookmyung’s litter, the pair instantly turning to one another, and expected to walk alongside them.

“No, no, YN,” Sookmyung stopped you as you approached. “You’re dismissed for the day. Come to the garden around supper. If anyone comes calling for me, tell them I am indisposed.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” you bowed, standing aside as the footmen lifted up the five litters.

She turned away from you to kiss Hongjoong, who tilted his head to deepen it. Once more, you locked eyes with one another. You gave him an appreciative smile, which he replied with a blink. You waited until Sookmyung was far away before walking towards the opposite gate back to the residency area. Passing by Sookmyung’s personal apartments, you walked further down the hall to a set of double doors guarded by a leggy man in leather armor. 

“Good morning, Junhan,” you grinned at them, the older man grinning back. “Is Her Majesty accepting visitors?”

“She will if it’s you,” he replied, “How was the witch this morning?”

“Junhan,” you hissed, holding back your laugh and looking down the hall, “You know better.”

“Ah, as if anyone is going to hear me here,” he rolled his eyes. He slid open the door for you, and said, “She’ll be glad to see you. Your mother says Her Majesty has been anxious these past few days.”

“Then I should see her quickly,” you said, giving him a nod before walking into the main room. 

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” you smiled as you entered a nearby sitting room. 

The Queen Mother Jisoo was once held in the admiration of everyone in the kingdom. She’d helped the kingdom in many ways during her reign alongside her husband: giving smaller villages access to clean water, funding orphanages and reconstructing damaged parts of the city. She helped pass laws that protected women in arranged marriages or dangerous situations, and gave protection to children. It was because of her that many people, especially the women and children, felt safe in the kingdom. But, when her daughter became queen, the Queen Mother stepped back and focused on her passions instead. However, age came for Jisoo, and her mobility became limited and her health declined slightly.

“Ah, YN, good morning,” Jisoo smiled. She sat in her wheeled chair today, a blanket over her lap and a cup of tea in her hand. “How is my daughter?”

“She is well. She is in the throne hall,” you fibbed. “She asked me to come check on you for her.”

“YN,” she smiled softly, shaking her head, “You’d lie to an old woman to spare her feelings. Please, come and sit. I’m sure Sookmyung did not make the morning easy for you. A servant told me she sent away her handmaidens this morning.”

“She did.” You took the seat across from her and prepared yourself a cup of tea. You offered to refill her cup, but she refused. “Your Majesty, you must eat,” you noticed the amount of food left over, “If you don’t, it will get cold.”

“I don’t have much of an appetite today,” she admitted. “But, I’m sure you’re famished, so please, eat.”

“She hardly had time to eat her breakfast this morning, Your Majesty.”

A woman in a gray and blue hanbok walked into the room, carrying a stack of folded sheets. Her hair tied up in a bun, she wore the blue and gray hanbok of Queen Jisoo’s maids. Like your red ribbon, she wore a white one. You grinned at the sight of your mother. She’d been Queen Jisoo’s handmaiden in her youth, being at her side for every event of her life. When you grew up, you became Sookmyung’s maid. Except, you’re certain your mother had a much better time serving Jisoo than you did Sookmyung.

“And why was that?” Jisoo asked curiously. “Breakfast is important, and you’re still a growing woman.”

“The queen needed me to assist her in her garden,” you admitted over a cup of tea before sipping. You saw the disapproval on your mother’s face, but it was Jisoo who spoke up.

“And what horrid thing did she make you witness?”

“Nothing. She’d sent the concubines away before I arrived.”

“Hmph, in my day, queens did not have ‘concubines’,” your mother huffed, shaking her head. “The physician tells me he brews her tansy tea to avoid scandalous mishaps, but that is not healthy for a young woman. She’ll do severe damage to her womb, and not be able to produce children at all at this rate.”

“Chaewon,” the queen shushed her sharply. 

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” she apologized. She noticed you not eating, and spread a bit of honey on bread for you. You knew better than to refuse her, so you ate it in small bites.

“My Sookmyung has always had a certain fiery passion,” Jisoo said. “Her father was similar. It was why he had so many concubines. He had an appetite I could not handle on my own,” she giggled.

“But, Your Majesty, the things I’ve heard The Queen does are-”

“-I know they are,” she cut in. “My daughter is a young woman, a new monarch. I will not rob her of enjoying her youth before settling down and marrying someone.”

Did that enjoyment of youth involve locking people in dungeons to torment and torture for pleasure? Did it include kidnapping young men from their families and forcing them to fulfill her every whim? Jisoo might make excuses for Sookmyung, but you would not. You finished the bit of bread given to you, and took up a bowl of kimchi instead. Not fully tasting the vegetable side, you pitied the concubines. Only the gods know what act she is forcing Hongjoong and Seonghwa to perform for her. 

You wished you could help them. You wished you could help a lot of people.

***

A/N: I freaking love historical aus, don't you?? I know this probably isn't a 100% accurate, but I tried to get as close as possible while still mixing in a fictional realm. I really hope you enjoyed this first chapter <3 feel free to like and reblog, it keeps posts alive!!

[sjhanny2000]

Lustful Blood (2/2)

A/N:  I AM BACK!!! Nearly three months later and I'm back. This semester has been a hell ride since I'm teaching AP U.S. Government and Politics for the first time but oh well! To make up for my absence, here's not only the conclusion to this AU but double the amount of the first chapter! Enjoy!

Warning(s):  TDoFL AU, mentions/references to cannibalism, non-consensual transformation, reference/implied rape, minor gore, canon-violence, angst with a bit of fluff, Demon Slayer spoilers

Word Count: 3.6k+ 

~~~

Bah-dump. Bah-dump. Bah-dump. Bah-dum-bah-dum-bah-dum-bah-! 

 The sound of your heart pounding filled your ears, deafeningly loud and numbing to your senses. Your body felt as if it had been hit by a lightning strike, nerves and muscles quaking with excited electric energy, your fingers itching and mouth dripping copious amounts of saliva. 

 Fresh meat mother, feed us!

 You could sense four fresh, delectable bodies entering your sensory field at a rapid pace, their swiftness unlike that of any civilian you had come across since your awakening. No, these four were something else, their scents tantalizing familiar, and oh how did your stomach grumble in want of their presence. Yet, as your stomach yearned to taste their flesh, your heart was another matter; it madly thumped and thrashed against the confines of your ribcage, outstretching its veins outwards in hope of grasping onto something or rather, someone. 

 I’m here! ________, I’m here!

 Your mind came to a crashing halt for just a split second, because youknewthesesomeonesbuthow-? 

 MOTHER! FEED!

 You didn’t have the time to process that damning thought, no matter how debilitating it was. No, your children needed you on your guard and your body needed the sustenance these four bodies would provide; they had to be in good health due to their obvious athleticism, which meant their flesh were fresh and tender, perfect for sinking your teeth into and-. Desired drenched saliva swished about within the cavern of your mouth, thick lines of the transparent secretion trickling from the corners of your lips in copious amounts. 

 Your meal was approaching. 

 Silently slinking into the shadows of the canopy above you, you settled yourself amongst two hearty branches and silently laid in wait for your prey to arrive, your children growing silent and the air still. You need to feast, you were so hungry-.

 Don’t hurt them-!

 INTRUDERS!

 Maybe, maybe you should wait to eat, but could you truly wait any longer? You had become so weak, with the ridges of your ribcage and bones present more than ever, perhaps just a drop of blood would be enough to curb your urge to feed. No one had to die nor suffer, just a drop of blood would do and how glorious it would taste! Yet, your salivating day dream of finally consuming something evaporated the second you felt one of the four individuals seemingly disappear into thin air. 

 One intruder vanished, three remaining, find…

 What is the meaning of this-?

 “-said this is where the demon’s been hiding. Stay on your guard.”

 “Hai!” 

 “Remember, just because there’s wisteria and security measures in place throughout the estate, doesn’t mean you don’t need to stay on your guard.” Dressed in a sleeveless, mid-thigh dress that was the color of crimson spider lilies, golden bangs framing an face hidden from your sight, the woman’s voice possessing uncertainty yet confidence within its cadence. The woman’s calloused hand was cupping your left cheek with such love it made your stomach turn and twist, cheeks growing hot out of embarrassment. “We’ll be back as soon as we can, promise.” 

 A silent hiss escaped your lips as the memory momentarily blinded all of your senses, clawed fingers coming to tightly grasp your locks in a weak attempt to relieve the sudden pressure within your cranium. Now was not the time for these thoughts, not when you and your children’s survival was at stake! 

 “-don’t understand is if the demon who’s been holed up in here as long as the village leader says has yet to hurt anyone, why are we in such a rush to hunt it down? Maybe they’re like that one boy demon slayer’s sister, y’know, the one that’s supposedly a good demon!”  

 A quiet, saddened sigh left the woman cuddled beside you, her slate blue dress clashing pleasantly against the emerald stalks of grass that laid below her sprawled out body. Her hand was stretched outwards in a pointless attempt to take hold of the azure sky looming above the both of you, a soft, spring breeze drifting across your bodies. “Have you, y’know, ever wondered if a demon could be good? Like, one that chose to protect people instead of eating them? That would change everything!” 

 Familiar, stop, please make it stop! It HURTS-! 

 “We can’t afford to take any chances here just because the demon hasn’t killed someone yet. It’s better to deal with it now then give it the opportunity to kill someone in the future.” 

 “We can’t afford to take any chances, ___-chan. But I promise, when we return from our mission, we’ll all make a trip into town. Just hold out till then, okay?” Calloused palms gently cradled your fingers, the woman wearing the violet dress gifting them with a light squeeze that made your heart flutter with excitement and ached in dejection at the same time. 

                                                 MAKE. IT. STOP!!!

 The branches of the canopy began to grow antsy from the duress of your quaking mental foundations, what little control you possessed over your shipping psyche threatening to slip through your brittle fingers whilst your children willed themselves to thrash in rage. 

 GO AWAY!

 “Look out!” 

 Any energy left within your body seeped into your children, sneaking vines and needle sharp thorns lashing toward the three individuals, no women, in search of bloody penance for invading your shared home. 

 One of your prized children, a venus flytrap you had come to lovingly name Takara after it had prevented curious villagers from entering your home one late night when you were debilitated from endless mind aches, reared its body back and aimed to entrap one of the women within its jaws with a deafening roar. 

 “GET OUT!!!” 

 Various of the rose bushes uprooted themselves and hurried forward, doing their damndest to sink their thorns within the intruders' skin, the ones who met your beloved children with peculiar weapons that were sharp as knives yet wielded like hand held katanas. With a pained grimace, you forced your scrunched eyes to open, blobs of salty, pain saturated tears staining your dirt covered cheeks whilst you forced yourself to shift into a better vantage point and further away from the intruders. Vines took hold of your torso and lifted you upwards further into the canopy until you were met with the night sky, desperate, agonizing gasps escaping your lips as you felt child after child die in your defense. 

 “There you are.” 

 Before you could even register what was happening, a deep, cocky voice belonging to a man sounded off behind you and as you moved to face him, you were met with twin, razor-edged blades aiming for the meat of your esophagus. A cry of surprise escaped you whilst your body was yanked to safety by a swarm of vines, thick oak branches that had erupted from below at some taking the brunt of the attack from the fourth intruder that had most definitely not vanished. Sent tumbling across the broken glass paneling of the green house, you found your battered form tumbling over the edge of one of the metal beams that supported the roof with a terrified scream. In a weak and desperate attempt to stop yourself from falling to your death, you swung your arms outwards and managed to take purchase of a  glass shard jutting from the beams, a cry of pain escaping you at the feeling of the transparent material piercing into the meat of your right wrist. As you uselessly hung there, mind boggled and heart racing, your gut instinct urged you to look upwards and the moment you did, horrified dread poured into the pit of your stomach; descending from the night sky in a flash of color and deafening sound, the fourth intruder was flying towards you with enormous blades and aimed with killing intent. At that very moment, time seemed to slow, and you knew you had two choices: free yourself and lose your hand in turn or die. 

 With the yank of your shoulder accompanied by a scream, the glass ripped through the tendons and bones within your wrist and hand, blood spraying madly against the glass and the stranger’s obscured face as your descent downwards saved you from another killing blow. 

 MOTHER!

 Branches, thick leaves, and vines shot outwards, each attempting to slow your plummet, only for each outstretched chlorophyll limb to be sliced to pieces by the accursed blades. As the wind rushing past you, your (h/c) locks whipped angrily around your face, until in a small second of reprieve and chance, the gusts thrust upwards against your falling body freed your eyes of the growing tangle nest of your hair and you found your (e/c) irises meeting vibrant pools of invigorating fuchsia. 

 Muscular arms two times the same as your own cradled you against a (naked) chest of pure muscle, your husband’s hypnotic pools of fuchsia peering down at you with unadulterated love and affection, a blinding grin set on Tengen’s handsome face. “You aren’t sneaking away from us that easily, spirit flower.” 

“You gotta stay today, Y/N-chan! You promised!” Suma’s arm sprung forth from the mound of blankets and bodies that were you and your spouses, tears forming in the woman’s dazzling cobalt irises as she grasped onto your wrist in desperation. 

“I-uh-I really do need to begin on my chores,” You attempted to break free of your teary-eyed wife and scramble out of Tengen’s massive lap, face burning as bright as the summer sun out of pure nervous embarrassment. “Plus, I am not used to performing actions of pleasure as well as you, Hinatsuru, and Makio and-!”

A cream white hand of calluses appeared from the sea of covers that were blanketing your shared naked forms and came to playfully fondle your breast, Makio’s lips bearing a mischievous, shit eating grin of her own. “Well let’s fix that then, baby girl. Chores can wait.” 

Slinking forward with the heady scent of wanting lust filling your nostrils, you couldn’t help the squeak that left you as Makio’s lips met your own, the taste of persimmons meeting your tongue whilst her tongue scraped the inner walls of your mouth. Wandering hands swept across the unblemished skin of your forearms, something warm and wet running across the junction of muscle and flesh of your shoulder up your neck until-. You couldn’t help the moan that ripped from your throat at the feeling of teeth nipping at your right earlobe, Hinatsuru’s soft spoken voice gracing moist air into the shell of your ear. “We want to see all that you have to offer, love. Outside and in.” 

Her hand traveled to your core and with the flick of her wrist, her index finger-. 

 “Tengen-sama.”

 His name left your mouth before you could stop it, fresh tears pricking at the corner of your eyes at the sight of your husband for the first time in forever because how long had it been since you had last seen him? 

 A part of you relished in the mortified realization that bloomed across the Sound Hashira’s facial features, his lips moving soundlessly against the wind rushing past the two of you. 

 “Spirit flower?”

 In an explosion of blinding pain, a multitude of memories burst forth from the darkest recesses of your cavernous mindscape, bitter words and touches from childhood intermixing with bright and happy ones from your time with your spouses at their estate. Suma’s back breaking hugs, Hinatsuru’s light as a feather kisses, Makio’s balance stealing pats on the back, Tengen’s all encompassing figure, each point of contact sweeping over your skin with suffocating reminiscence. 

 As you clutched onto the wood of the front gateway standing tall around you, you watched on in silent sadness whilst your spouses set off down the dirt road with purpose, Nijimaru leading the four of them towards yet another mission. Just as they reached the edge of the horizon, your three wives spun around and waved a final goodbye, Tengen watching on with fondness. 

“We love you Y/N-chan!” 

 “Y/N-chan!” 

 Strong, unrelenting arms of muscle wrapped around your dirtied form and suddenly, with the abrupt jolt of your body, you were no longer falling. Senses having gone haywire and far too afraid to see just who was holding you, you would not dare open your eyes nor move, holding your breath in hope that they would just leave you there.

You are the monster, the demon. 

 The very thing they despised and hunted in atonement for their sins. 

 “Tengen-sama!” 

“Tengen-sama what are you doing?!” 

“Tengen-sama?” 

 Too loud, everything was too loud. Make it stop, make it stop, make. it. stop.

 The body holding your own shifted ever so slightly and in a blur, you found yourself cradled within the lap of the man who should be slicing your head off your shoulders, not cradling like some baby, like you were still the person he had once loved. 

 “Spirit Flower, open your eyes.” 

 “Tengen-sama, that isn’t Y/N-!” 

 “Makio!” 

 How deafening was the tense silence that followed Hinatsuru’s reprimanding shout but you did not dare open your eyes, unwilling to face the reality that lay beyond your eyelids because how could you do so? 

 “You’re alive, Kami you’re alive,” A overly large and calloused thumb, the one that used to caress the bridge of your cheekbone fondly whenever you were within reach and it made you feel so special-- moved to wipe away the tears gracing the flesh of your cheeks with such tenderness that was unholy undeserving for a monster such as yourself. “Our sweet, gorgeous Spirit Flower.” 

 “But if that’s Y/N-chan, that means…” 

 A quiet, mournful sob followed those damning words closely like a predator stalking its prey and bare arms were wrapping tightly around your neck-. 

 What?

 Your eyes snapped open in surprise, body going stiff beneath Suma’s breath taking hold as she rubbed her face against your own, and you found your shocked gaze meeting Tengen’s tearfully joyous one, the Sound Hashira gifting you with a watery smile. “That was quite a flamboyant way to reveal yourself, you know. I give it a 9/10.” 

 Makio’s two-toned hair appeared in your field of vision in a blur of movement, the fiesty kunoichi shoving Suma away from your person to strangle you in a hug of her own, a soft squeak slipping from your lips. A touch of lips as light as a feather graced your left temple and you managed to move your head just enough to see a silently sobbing Hinatsuru kneeling above you, violet irises shining with boundless, unending love. 

 How could, what was, why-?

 “Why?” You croaked, voice crackling with misuse or the lack there of it. “Why?”

 The singular word caught all four of their attentions in an instant, Suma popping back into your vision with a stern glare. “If you’re asking why we aren’t killing you because you’ve been turned into a demon, Kami, so help me-!” 

 Hinatsuru moved to restrain the frothing blue-eyed kunoichi without hesitation, the more composed of the two gracing you with a strained smile and effort. “What Suma is trying to say is, how could we ever think of killing you when we’ve thought the person we love was dead this whole time, only to be alive in the end?” 

 “We thought we lost you forever, you baka.” Makio let out a sniff whilst she pulled away and wiped the tears from her face. “When we found your kimono in that hellhole of a cellar and there was blood everywhere, we-!”

 “-presumed the worst,” Your attention shifted back to your husband, a haunted look marring Tengen-sama’s typically vibrant features, one that made your skin crawl with discomfort. “It was pretty unflashy of us.” 

 Squirming against Makio and Tengen’s holds on your body, you did your best to get away from them, before you made a mistake you could never remedy. “You need to let me go, forget you ever saw me, please, before I hurt you!” 

 “No way!” “Hell no!” “Absolutely not!” 

 “Now you listen and you listen good, spirit flower,” Much to your chagrin, Tengen’s mighty arms drew you back into his lap and held you there, the Sound Hashira gifting you with an unforgiving glare of foreboding warning. “We’ve thought you’ve been dead for a year, we were forced to hold a funeral for you without anything to bury, without the chance to tell you our goodbyes.” 

 “So like hell we’ll let you out of our sights. You’re our wife and we pledged to stand by one another in sickness and in health, that includes one of us becoming a demon. You got that?” 

 All you could do was dumbly nodded in confirmation, words failing you in that moment of truth, and Tengen’s mood shifted from threatening to reserved within a second, the silver haired man gazing down at you with calculating fuchsia irises. “Now, with all of that nonsense out of the way, tell me with truth: have you eaten a human?” 

 You could have sworn your eyes popped out of their sockets in fearful anxiety. “N-no! Never! I mean, I wanted to but something stopped me every time! I’m sorry-!” 

 Hinatsuru gave your back a comforting rub, offering you a supportive grin. “It’s okay Y/N-chan, no one’s upset with you!” 

 “Yeah! So can it with the stupid apologies, baka!” Makio cuffed you on the back of the head, glaring warningly at your person. 

 Rubbing at the now sore spot on the back of your head, you turned back to Tengen with searching eyes, body quaking with nerves. “Then, what are you going to do with me?”

 “Well first, we’re going to find you something else to wear then the drabby rags you have on now.” His fingers plucked at your clothes with distaste, the man speaking with such nonchalance it left you reeling. “And then you’ll bring you to Shinobu-san and let her see if there is anything she can do to reverse your condition. She’s been making some progress in research supposedly due to an anonymous benefactor and a little demon girl who refuses to eat people just like you.” 

 “There’s another demon like me?” 

 Suma grinned at your questions, practically bouncing with excitement in Hinatsuru’s arms. “Her name’s Nezuko-chan! The Butterfly Girls said she’s very nice, just like you Y/N-chan!” 

 Blush broke out across your cheeks, embarrassment fueling you to curl tightly against Tengen and hide your tomato red face between his muscular breasts. 

 Mother, safe?

 “-chan?” 

 You snapped to attention, only to see your four spouses peering at you with worry, and you felt your fingers curl into the fabric of Tengen’s uniform unconsciously while you did your best to fight back the tears that threatened to fall. “The plants, they talk to me. They want to know I’m safe.” 

 Jumping to her feet in a flash, Suma set her gaze on the trees looming above with a shout. “It’s okay plant babies! We’re here to bring her home, safe and sound!” 

 Take mother away from us? 

 “They won’t take me away forever, I promise,” The plants surrounding the five of you grew taught with apprehension, protective anger within them beginning to grow. “T-they want to help me, help us! They’ll feed me, take good care of me!” 

 Feed mother? Take care of her? 

 “Yes! S-so it’s okay, I’ll be okay! We all will be!” 

 Your children grumbled in agreement, the want to feed once again growing in intensity and the urge to sink your fangs into Makio’s arm because it was sitting there and it smelled so-. 

 Thoughts of fulfilling your hunger came to a grinding halt at the rough jerk of your head backwards, something hard and unforgiving slotting painfully between your jaws. It took you a moment but you quickly realized that a thick branch had been shoved into your mouth, the limb thick enough that it would take a considerable amount of energy to snap it, the very energy you lacked due to your lack of feeding. 

 “Can’t have you trying to feast on us just yet, spirit flower.” A thick rope was promptly attached to both ends of the branch and tied tightly at the back of your head, Tengen making quick work of the muzzle he had clearly put through in haste. 

 The bark of the branch cut into the meat of your lips but you couldn’t find the will to care; all you could care about was that you had just attempted to eat one of your wives, a reality that made your stomach curdle in disgust. 

 “I’m fine, tree hugger. Not a scratch on mine, see?” Makio wasted no time in showing that she indeed was fine, the woman moving to stand on her feet beside Suma and Hinatsuru, the latter who gave your shared husband a worried look. “We should probably leave soon, Tengen-sama. The sun should be up within the next two hours.” 

 “If that’s the case then, let’s be on our flamboyant way, shall we?” 

 With a simple thrust of his legs, Tengen was standing with you draping over his left shoulder like a sack of flour, a noise of surprise escaping you at the sudden movement. “Sorry, spirit flower, but if we’re going to make it to the Butterfly Mansion before the sunrise, I can’t carry you in style. Now hold on tight!” 

 Before you could even think of objecting, Tengen was on the move and that meant so were you, a muffled scream ripping out of your throat while the ex-shinobi turned demon slayer made what seemed like a mad dash for Shinobu-san’s estate, your three wives following close behind with grins on all four of your spouses’ faces.

~~~

Thanks for making it this far! Comments, likes, reblogs and more are always appreciated! 

[stargazeraldroth]

Balanceswap: A Bittersweet Reunion

Summary: An event that takes place in my Balanceswap AU. After running away from the self-proclaimed Destroyer, Dream seeks out his twin brother. Though the two are glad to see each other after so many centuries, the reunion isn't quite as pleasant as Dream had been hoping for. At least Nightmare seems to be happy... maybe a little too happy... and Dream has Mental Health Problems (TM).

Warnings: Platonic yandere character, mental health issues.

Word Count: Around 4,281 words.

Dream wasn't sure if he was going to regret this plan or not.

He knew his life was far from perfect. He'd been aware of that fact ever since he was a child, living under the shade of the Tree of Feelings. Although life had never been anywhere near perfect for him, he enjoyed it regardless. Sure, some moments were harder than others, but he needed to keep going. That's what he's been telling himself since his days in the village, when he would get faced with hurtful words and thrown objects simply for existing. And it's what he still told himself now, when he was constantly on the move, hopping from one place to the next.

Dream looked up from the table, his hand coming to a halt. Everything was still quiet in the tiny, rundown apartment they'd moved into, save for noises coming from outside its thin walls. It wasn't like anyone would be coming by, anyway. This part of the town had been largely vacant for a while, from what Ink could gather. They would be safe here for a few days, assuming there weren't any unexpected searches from his brother's forces. It wasn't likely, given that this was a predominantly negative AU, but... they'd been caught off-guard before. And, from Ink had told him, Nightmare could be very, very persistent in his searches.

Nightmare...

He hadn't really seen his twin ever since that fateful day. Back when he was so naive and trusting, despite his own hardships. He still remembered it as though it was yesterday; how Nightmare told him to pick his favorite apple from the Tree, and even helped him reach the branch to do so. That same apple, black with purple undertones, now resided in his ribcage, concealed from the world. The last Black Apple remaining from the Tree's branches, just as the last Golden Apple resided in Nightmare's body. They had both changed so much since they were children.

Nightmare was now a prominent, highly influential member of the greater Multiverse. A high-ranking member of an organization that was simply referred to as The Council. Or, rather, that's what Ink referred to it as. Dream didn't know if it had a different, more official name. But regardless of what it was called, it was an incredibly important group in the Multiverse. It was significant enough for the Protector of the AUs to be involved with it, too, even if he technically wasn't an official member. But beyond that, Nightmare also had a group of his own. From what Ink told him and the bits he was able to gather from old newspapers, they worked to bring relief to those who were suffering. That was the simple version of it, anyway. He wondered... if Nightmare was able to move on from his bitterness regarding the village and its people.

Dream... wasn't sure how he had changed, but he knew he had to have. Even if it was something small and insignificant, he had to have changed at least a little bit. But maybe his changes weren't for the better, either. He didn't know if he was considered a criminal or not, but given his close association with Ink, it was reasonable to assume he had some kind of bounty. He hadn't done anything wrong, but... it seemed even existing was a crime when it came to him. Nightmare would tell him that it was only because mortals were stupid and didn't understand his importance, but even so...

Once he was done with his letter, he read it over with what lighting he could get from the moon. Everything seemed right... he just hoped Ink wouldn't be too upset with him when he woke up in the morning. Setting down the pencil, he grabbed the bag he'd prepared and headed towards the door. Resting a hand on the doorknob, he looked over his shoulder. The self-proclaimed Destroyer was still in a deep sleep on the couch, having insisted that Dream took the one bedroom.

Dream felt as though he was betraying Ink, in a way. He'd been nothing but kind to Dream ever since he initially rescued him from his brother's castle, even if taking care of another person was difficult work. Ink barely even had the means to properly take care of himself; aside from having to stay in rundown or abandoned apartments like this, they had no real way of getting any money. Ink insisted he didn't actually need to eat in order to live, so any food they did manage to get was given to him. He felt... bad. Like he was nothing more than a hindrance or inconvenience. It didn't help that he was one of the primary reasons they had to frequently move from one place to the next. His negative aura risked giving their location, should Nightmare be looking... and based on what Ink's told him, Nightmare was always searching for him.

I'm sorry, Ink... but I need to make this decision for myself.

~~~~

When Nightmare took the rest of the Tree's fruit and turned into... whatever he could be called now, Dreamtale- the world they called their home- changed with him. He could feel the oppressive intensity of positive energy as soon as he stepped foot through the portal. Though he cringed, he moved forward, determined to see his self-appointed mission through.

He wouldn't lie to himself, the place was beautiful. It almost looked like something out of one of the fairytales Nightmare would read him when they were children. Everything was so bright and colorful. It looked like a place where people would want to live- and, judging by the amount of people he'd seen so far, it was precisely that kind of place. Everyone seemed so content and happy, but maybe that was because of the abundance of positive energy. Regardless of whatever the cause might be, it brought him an odd sense of peace to know that his brother's domain had become a safe haven for people of different backgrounds. He wished he had been around to watch it all happen.

"Excuse me?" An ethereal, airy voice broke through his thoughts. "Are you lost?"

The Guardian turned around to face the one who spoke to him. Rather than being met with a human or monster, he found himself looking at... something else entirely. He wasn't even sure how to describe them. They appeared to be delicate and elegant, carrying themself with grace. Their eyes reminded him of a skeleton monster's, but rather than being met with dark sockets and glowing pupils, he found himself looking into what he could only think of as pools of warmth. A pair of pristine, feathery wings was attached to their backside, like those of an angel. The only familiar part of their figure was their uniform. It seemed to be a classical maid's uniform, with a skirt that reached their ankles and long sleeves.

"I... I..." Dream stammered, trying to find the right words. "I'm looking for... m-my brother..."

"Were you separated? I can help you find him again," the servant offered. "Can you tell me what he looks like?"

"W-Well... you see, um... he's... he's... N-Nightmare, the... Guardian...?"

Dream gave an awkward smile, hoping he sounded at least somewhat believable. He wasn't lying, but the idea of Nightmare having a younger brother could be a bit... unbelievable for a number of reasons. He didn't actually know what information was available about him. Did people... know about his existence? As more than Ink's little sidekick? He supposed the maid's response would tell him all he needed to know. If they didn't, then maybe that was an indicator as to how Nightmare felt about him now. Maybe... Dream should've thought harder about this before deciding to leave.

What if... Nightmare didn't want him around? It's been centuries since they last saw each other... Nightmare's life has changed since then. He had a kingdom and people to take care of now. Unlike when they lived in the village, Nightmare was willing to look after these people and take care of them. He shouldn't... have to worry about him, too. Could he even bring anything new to this place? Was there anything his presence or involvement would benefit? What good could negativity ever bring? Feeling negative emotions was inevitable, of course, but would it not be in everyone's best interest to minimize how often they feel them?

He wasn't sure when he had last been consistently positive- while it's true it isn't exactly in his nature, being made from negative energy, he could still feel things like happiness and love. But he didn't feel them as strongly as he used to, if his positive feelings were ever strong at all. There were so many people who felt those things stronger than he did. What could someone like him, who was a physical embodiment of unwanted feelings, possibly bring to a community? What could someone like him do to prove that he had a right to stay?

Nothing, he realized. His aura would undo everything these people worked to achieve. Even if he had an iron grip on his aura at all times, keeping as much negative energy trapped in a bottle as he could, he had his limits. It wasn't helped by the fact that he had hardly any training when it came to his powers. His abilities were completely different from Ink's. Without proper training to control his aura and minimize its effects, he would continue to hurt people simply by being around them. He posed a risk to their happiness and well-being merely by existing. Coming here was a mistake.

He'd be nothing but a stain. A constant reminder of their pain and suffering. He needed to leave before he could hurt anyone, and before he intruded on Nightmare's new life.

Dream flinched when he felt something touch his head. He looked up from the ground, trying to meet the servant's eyes. He hadn't even realized he started crying. He must look so stupid and pathetic, crying in a place where he wasn't wanted in the first place. But there was no sign of contempt or disgust on the servant's face, nor did their aura become darker. If anything, it became... lighter? He didn't think it was possible.

"You're Dream, aren't you?" The servant asked, giving him a kind smile. "His Majesty has been looking for you."

Dream took a step back, reaching up to rub away the tears in his eyes. Ink told him that Nightmare was, but... how likely was it that the reason behind that was something good? If it wasn't for something bad, then why was Ink so insistent that they move locations before he could find them? He'd taken notice of Ink's tendency to get paranoid and resort to extremes, but Nightmare was his brother. Surely Ink would be able to take that into consideration, even with his anxieties... unless he had a good reason to suspect that Nightmare would want to hurt him.

If there was one thing he learned from the villagers, it was that people didn't need to have good reasons to hurt others.

"Young one, where are you going?" The servant asked. "You do not need to be afraid. I will not bring you any harm- none of us will."

Dream shook his head. "Don't lie to me! You... you're just pretending to be nice!"

Before he realized what he was doing, he turned on his heels and ran in the opposite direction, away from what he could only describe as a servant made of light. He barely registered the servant's voice as they called out to him, too focused on returning the way he came and escaping from this place. If he was lucky, he would be able to make it back to that AU before Ink could wake up and read his letter. It was a slim chance, but a chance regardless. He just needed to get out of Dreamtale, preferably without having Nightmare tracking his every movement.

Unfortunately, it seemed his escape wouldn't be as smooth as he'd been hoping for. A knightly figure, tall and shaped like a skeleton monster, stepped out just in time to block his exit. He wasn't sure how the others at the castle found out so soon. Was there some sort of telepathic bond? It sounded highly unlikely, but... well... according to Ink, he was still around the mental age of a child. However relevant that statement was. The important thing was that more people were becoming aware of his presence, something that could end up spelling disaster for him. Not only were more knights starting to show up, but those Light Servants were as well. How were there so many of them!? They were... too similar to each other, almost like perfect replicas. It was unnatural.

Despite the fear pumping through his bones, Dream could feel his energy and strength beginning to drain. Normally, his soul would be able to provide him with the minimal amount of negative energy he needed to keep himself going. But the structure of Dreamtale- and its emotional balance- was drastically different from what he was used to dealing with. There was simply too much positive energy for his soul to counter, and its effects on his body were already showing. He could feel himself slowing down, the aches in his legs growing by the minute, if not the second.

Finally, his legs gave out under him. He groaned in pain as he tripped on his own feet, falling against the hard pavement of the walkway. By the time he managed to pull himself together, the others had caught up to him. He threw his arms over his head, preparing to shield himself from any incoming blows. It was a survival tactic he'd learned and used back in the village.

But instead of being met with violence, he was carefully pulled close to one of the servants. He slowly opened one of his eyes to glance at his surroundings, finding that the ones who caught up to him were whispering things to each other. Though he couldn't catch everything over the pounding in his head, he did hear them inquiring about Nightmare's whereabouts. The Light Servant glanced down at him, taking notice of his drained condition. Standing up from the ground, they adjusted his position in their arms, almost like they were holding a baby or a cat over their shoulder.

"Shh... it's okay, little one. Just close your eyes and rest easy," the servant said in that same sweet, soothing voice. "Does the sunlight hurt your eyes?"

Dream gave a small nod. It wasn't necessarily the sunlight that was the problem, but... regardless, the servant shifted their wings so that one was covering him, blocking out the sunlight from his eyes. A warm feeling washed over his body a moment later, seeping into his bones. Achiness turned into exhaustion and, with some gentle coaxing from the Light Servant's embrace, he drifted off into the blissful darkness of sleep.

~~~~

He couldn't feel his body. Not like he should be able to, at least. Something about it was... different. That much was clear in how he struggled to open his eyes, or how there was a certain numbness to his body.

When he finally managed to pry his eyes open, he found himself in a completely different place from where he fell asleep. It didn't take long for him to figure out that he was in a bedroom of some kind. The bed itself was bigger and comfier than any he'd had before, and it felt... clean, if that made sense. He tried not to be too fussy about this kind of stuff, considering he used to sleep on the ground as a child, but sometimes he could tell the beds he slept in weren't taken care of for a long time. Still, it was better than sleeping on the hard floor, so... he wasn't used to having a blanket that was this thick or warm, either. It was... nice.

"I see you're awake." A hand reached out from his bedside, brushing a finger against his cheek and poking him gently. "Did you sleep well, brother?"

'Brother'.

Reluctantly, Dream looked to his side. Next to him, there was a radiant figure much like those otherworldly servants he encountered before. Nightmare was watching him carefully and, though his one visible eye held nothing but warmth, something was peculiar about his aura. It was brimming with positive feelings- happiness, most notably, but also eagerness and love. There was even a hint or two of satisfaction. But behind that, there was something else... something darker... was he concerned for him?

"Don't look so confused. Did you think I wouldn't be worried about you?" Nightmare asked. "You're not used to this kind of environment. Your soul's response to the change was to turn your body to stone. It's a miracle you even woke up at all."

"... Where am I?" He asked in return.

"You're in your bedroom. Did you think I wouldn't take care of you?"

"I don't... what? Why would I have a...?"

"... I've been hoping you would be able to live here someday, you know. I admit I might have gotten a bit carried away with it and prepared a room in advance... but it turned out to be the right thing to do! You're here now, with me... where you belong."

"But... I... I have to..."

"You have to what, Dream? Right now you should be resting. Your body's going to have a significant loss of energy due to how much positivity there is."

"I need to... let Ink know I'm okay..."

In his goodbye letter to Ink, though he said it would be possible he'd come back depending on what happened, he also said that- should he decide to stay with Nightmare- he would still try to keep in touch with him. Nightmare didn't seem to be quite pleased with this information, his expression turning unreadable for a moment. With the lack of expression, Dream turned to his aura, trying to latch onto anything that might indicate his mood. But what was previously readable (to a certain extent) was now rigid and harsh, like an invisible wall. The older twin moved to pat him on the head, a smile returning to his face. But it didn't have that same warmth to it. As though it was simply for show rather than actually meaning anything.

"We'll talk more about that later. For now, just get some more rest until you can adjust to the environment."

Dream watched in silence as Nightmare stood up from his chair, headed over to the door and left the bedroom. He could hear the faint sounds of a conversation between him and some others, perhaps some servants or something, but he couldn't make out any specific words. Hopefully, the 'later' that he spoke of wouldn't take too long... Dream didn't want to sound impatient, but it was... kind of urgent. To him, at least. He knew Nightmare had other priorities and things to take care of.

Actually... now that he thought about it, he didn't necessarily need Nightmare's help in writing a letter to Ink. Maybe he would need his help when it came to delivering the letter, but he could at least get his message started, right?

Time seemed to prove him wrong.

Whenever Nightmare was absent from his new bedroom, there would always be at least two of those special Light Servants on standby. They would tend to Dream's every need if he asked them to do so. Even though he never asked for anything, the servants seemed to take it upon themselves to provide him with whatever they could. They were so proactive and attentive that he didn't even need to ask them to do anything; any potential wants or needs were taken care of before they could even be realized. The only request that couldn't always be immediately fulfilled was when he wanted to see Nightmare. It was understandable, given his brother's position and responsibilities, and he didn't mind having to wait. And yet, despite his insistence that it was fine, the Light Servants were always far too apologetic for the inconvenience.

Whenever Nightmare did come to visit him, Dream tried to bring up the subject of delivering a message to Ink. But whenever he did, Nightmare either pretended to have not heard him or changed the subject. It was strange. Almost as if Nightmare didn't want him to say anything to Ink ever again. While it made sense from Nightmare's perspective, with Ink being the Destroyer and all, he knew there was more to Ink than that. It wasn't like Ink was malicious with his destructive behavior or intentions. From Dream's understanding of his motives, anyway.

"Nightmare, I want to send a letter to Ink," he said again. "I already have an idea of what I want to say. I just need help delivering it."

"You're still pushing the matter? Oh, Dream..." Nightmare sighed. His tentacles coiled for a moment, expressing his displeasure. "Don't you realize it yet? You don't need to talk to Ink anymore. The only person you truly need is me."

"But... he's my friend." Frowning, the smaller Guardian tried to sit upright. Being bedridden sucked more than having to sleep on a dirty, old mattress. "I promised him I would let him know I'm okay."

"But why would he care?"

"... What?"

"Think about it, Dream. You're the Guardian of Negativity and he's the Destroyer of Worlds. He's a wanted criminal on the loose, a horrible influence! But besides that, he was only using you. I know who you are- despite everything that's happened to you, from the villagers to Ink, you still have a good heart. You don't like violence or fighting, and you especially don't like hurting people. All Ink does is hurt people. You know what the Omega Timeline is, correct?"

"Y-Yeah... Ink told me about it..."

"Then I'll assume you're aware of all the displaced people living there. People who were forced to relocate to a new home because of Ink. How do you think they felt? While it is true that negativity is necessary, there's a good kind of negativity and a bad kind. Just like how there's good positivity and bad positivity."

"... You don't have to talk to me like I'm still six."

"Well, I don't know where you are in terms of mental age."

"But... but Ink does care about me! I know he does! He's been looking after me this whole time! He's made sure I'm fed and he's been trying to help me with my powers! If you just let me, I can show you he isn't as bad as you think!"

"He's wreaking havoc and destroying worlds because of one temper tantrum he threw in the past. I won't say The Creators are saints or have pure hearts- that's an impossible feat, even for someone made from pure positive energy- but they don't control how Ink or Error live their lives. That's for them to decide. The Creators can make worlds, write a guideline story, and make changes as they please, but we have our free will. Everyone gets to make choices in life, and Ink made his."

"But he has his reasons!"

"And the villagers had their reasons for how they treated you. Does that make their actions right?"

"W-Well... no, but-!"

"It's the same for Ink. How many people has he hurt or killed, Dream? How many people have had their families torn apart and their lives ruined because of him? You need to think about these things. His actions aren't excused just because he's hurt by The Creators' choices."

Nightmare let out a heavy exhale, reaching up to rub the space between his eyes. When his hand fell back down to his side, he gave Dream a small smile.

"I don't mean to make you upset. But you need to realize that Ink isn't someone you should be associating with, regardless of what he might've told you about his motives."

With that, Nightmare looked at the clock in the room.

"It's almost your bedtime, anyway. Here, I'll tell you what: I'll... bring this up to Error after the next meeting with the Council, okay? We'll see what he has to say about it and if he thinks it's safe to do so, then I'll let you send him a letter."

Dream thought for a moment, but soon nodded. "Okay... but you have to promise! Pinky promise!"

"... Of course, Dream."

The two brothers locked their pinky fingers together for the sake of the promise. Once the younger Guardian was put to sleep, Nightmare stood there for a moment, watching over his sleeping form. When he finally left the bedroom, he was met with one of the Light Servants, as his brother fondly nicknamed them.

"Your Majesty, about the promise... do you truly intend to keep it?" They asked. "What should we say if the little one asks?"

"... No, I don't intend to keep it," Nightmare confessed. "Dream's heart is too big for his own good. Ink can't be trusted- that much is obvious to anyone. He'll just have to live with how things are going to be from now on. How things should have always been."

The two shared some more brief words before Nightmare finally departed for his own chambers. As he walked, the Guardian of Positivity couldn't help but think about everything that had happened. A smile came to his face, but no one would be able to see the glint in his eye. He truly hadn't been expecting Dream to come back to Dreamtale on his own. He thought he would've had to take him by force. Perhaps it would be a bit harder to keep him around, given his insistence on staying in touch with Ink, but... Nightmare had faith. Dream could be gullible and naive, but he wasn't stupid.

In the end, Dream would make the right decision. He was sure of it.

[kimageddon]

Sins of the Father 4:4

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Maul x Nightsister OC (Zaiya Valessa) - Modern/Crime AU

Word count: Approx 5000

Contains/Warnings: Blood, injuries, wounds, NSFW at the end - full chapter available on AO3

Chapter Summary: Maul visits his father and then… doesn't know where else to go.

Notes: See the end of the chapter for notes!

Bad Father, Good Son

He was suspicious immediately. Not only had he been able to enter the gates of the mansion, but only one of the security guards had tried to stop him, only to give up halfway through the sentence. That could only mean one thing.

His father knew he was here.

He had wanted to head right away once Zaiya had accused him, but he’d had to do a little digging of his own first, quietly asking questions and receiving answers on his own, without involving his brothers, and especially not Vizsla. This was something he couldn’t share. It had taken several days to gather all the intel… and a further day to gather the spine enough to come back to this wretched place.

He had lived in this house for much of his life, though many of the rooms he still had not seen. Maul had been pushed away from the main rooms, hidden from guests, forbidden to come out when others were present. So there were still places he found himself lost in.

It was luxurious; antiques and ridiculous items decorated the walls and floors. It was made to look like a family-owned mansion, as though he and his Father had lived there for years, along with the ancestors of his family.

Another lie to add to an already numerous pile.

How much of his life was even true? He had almost been driven mad with all the things he’d been supposed to remember. All the falsehoods and half-truths. For so long, he had thought he had escaped it. He lived with his brothers for years, walking his own path.

Or so he thought.

Perhaps that was the biggest lie of all. He’d had nightmares like this, dreaming he was free and clear, only to realise he wasn’t free at all and he felt the claws of his Father’s control on his back. Thinking that he had escaped when in reality his hands and feet were still bound to strings that his Father pulled and manipulated like a master puppeteer. Usually he would wake with a start in a cold sweat. This time he was not waking up.

The greatest trick the devil ever played was convincing the world he did not exist.

He’d heard that somewhere. He didn’t remember where, but God damn it if it didn’t fit the man that lived in this ostentatious but ultimately hollow house.

As much as the house was a maze and he didn’t know all the rooms, he definitely remembered the way to the study. He’d walked this path a thousand times. Usually with a sense of dread only a child can feel. On his way to be punished for whatever slight the old man had decided Maul was guilty of.

This time, rage overwhelmed the sense of dread and fear. He refused to be afraid of this man any longer. The door to the study was closed and Maul didn’t even knock. With a rough jerk of the handle and a shove, the door opened with a loud bang. The crimson Zabrak strode into the office, his golden eyes bazing, as though if he glared hard enough, the old man might just catch fire.

“What a surprise this is,” the soft but clear voice spoke and Maul’s blood ran cold. That voice. How long had it been since he’d heard it? It still prickled the back of his neck. Made his breath catch in his chest. Maul forced himself to swallow his apprehension. He turned to face the man. “I had wondered when you might come to see me, son,” he said with one of those vindictive smiles Maul remembered so well.

Sheev Palpatine sat in a high wingback chair behind a large mahogany desk. He wore a charcoal grey sweater, a glass of some amber liquid sat on his desk next to a few papers and a tablet in his wrinkled. Clearly he was relaxing for the evening, but for some reason he had allowed Maul to enter.

“Are you spying on me?” Maul growled. Palpatine stared him down, those watery blue eyes impassive, maybe slightly amused.

“And why would I do that?” the old man asked, calmly.

“I have never understood why you do half the things you have done,” Maul replied with a barely concealed snarl.

“Therein lies the problem, my son. You do not think, you do not understand.” Maul’s lip curled as his Father’s gaze grew cold.

In truth Maul did understand. His father did this for power. For control. For cruelty, and for fun. He seemed to enjoy seeing Maul suffer. That part Maul didn’t understand. Why did he seem to enjoy tormenting him so? Just another power grab? Why did he seem to hate his own son?

“All I need to understand is you’ve been having people follow me — and this?!” he withdrew a small yellow envelope from within his jacket, still full of cash and flung it, flicking his wrist and the package slapped onto the desk, ruffling the papers for a second. It was only after about three seconds did his eyes finally flick downward to the envelope.

“What about it?”

“You pass this to my people, to give to me — why?!” His teeth grit and he glared down at the old man. A slow and sinister smile began to creep across his wrinkled face.

“Do you really think I would abandon you?” he chuckled, as though it were obvious. The bottom of Maul’s stomach dropped out and he felt sick. It was as though he could feel a layer of dirt on his skin and he wanted nothing more than to tear it from his bones. The look on Palpatine’s face was a mixture of smug and sardonic.

Abandon him?

Maul remembered the frightened little child he once was, the way he cowered and hid from his Father’s punishments at first. Then the way he had shut himself down. The way he made himself stop feeling. He had hardened his heart to it. He had used the pain to make him stronger. Better.

Yet no matter what he did, how he filled his father’s requests to the letter… It was never enough. Nothing was ever good enough. Maul realised with a wrenching feeling in his gut, that his nightmare had indeed come true.

Palpatine had far more than kept tabs on him. If Zaiya could find the trail, then it was likely others could too. If his people found out, there’d be mutiny. If there was some crime committed… Was Maul the patsy? Is that all he had ever been? Palpatine couldn’t afford Maul to start talking, so this was what, insurance.

How stupid could he be?! He knew this man better than anyone and for five ignorant years he thought he was living his own life for once. But it was a lie.

He wasn’t free. He never would be.

“So if anyone ever comes for you, you have a scapegoat to throw at their feet, is that it?” Maul asked in a dark tone. Palpatine just smiled, his arms shifting to lay in his lap as he sat back in his seat.

“Now, now, would I do that to my first born son?” he laughed softly. Maul’s rage swelled in his chest.

“You call me that after what you’ve done?!” he spat, bitterly. “You think I will take anything more from you?!”

“Well, I daresay your own little club might begin to wonder why your profit margins so drastically changed,” Palpatine said calmly. “I would hate for them to… well, misunderstand.” So that was it. His father was trying to ensure Maul didn’t act out against him.

Suddenly the door opened and two large burly fellows in black suits stood in the doorway, another two close behind.

“Escort him out,” Palpatine said tersely. Maul cursed under his breath, his father must have called them when he shifted in his chair. Large hands gripped his shoulders as he attempted to shove them off, telling them he could walk. He did not miss the call from over his shoulder as he left however.

“It was good to see you, son! I shall hope you visit again very soon.”

══════════════════

Knock knock.

Zaiya’s eyes slowly creaked open. What time was it? She groaned softly as she rolled over. 6 AM? No wonder she was so tired. She definitely needed to—

Knock knock.

So she hadn’t imagined it. Dragging herself from her bed, luckily she’d not been working late the night before. In truth, since her last encounter, after Gunray, Grievous, then of course Maul, she’d kept her head down, not wanting to encounter anyone while she quietly collated the information.

If she saw that crimson-skinned bastard again, she thought grimly, it would be too soon. She sighed to herself and glimpse through the peephole. And froze.

“…the fuck?” she hissed under her breath, and without thinking, opened the door. Her mouth opened to spit venom at her visitor when again she was shocked into silence.

It was Maul.

More than that, he stood in the doorway, eyes averted and seeming unfocused. His shirt was torn, his jacket gone, knuckles and face covered in blood and swollen. His shoes were scuffed and he was dirty all over.

“I—I didn’t… I didn’t know where else to go…” he said hoarsely. Zaiya stared at him.

She should tell him no. She should tell him to leave. Tell him she didn’t want to see him. That whatever this was, wasn’t her problem.

She opened the door wider and stepped back to allow entrance.

Damn it. What was she doing?!

He entered and without a word, she cleared a space for him on the little two seater couch in the living room section. He sort of slumped in the chair, looking exhausted, and didn’t move again until she returned with a cup of tea. She handed him the cup, and he took a sip immediately, wincing slightly, and she saw the cut on his lip.

“What happened?” she asked softly, sitting beside him, she laid the little first aid kit on the table, opening it carefully. There was a long silence as he placed his cup down beside it.

“I went to see my father.”

Zaiya felt her stomach tighten and she resisted the urge to say something spiteful. She would let him talk. She reached out to take his hand, and he offered no resistance.

“I looked into what you said,” Maul continued, he looked like he was in pain from far more than his injuries. She began to tend to the cuts on his knuckles carefully. He didn’t seem to need stitches for any of these, thankfully. Not that she cared of course.

“You were right, he was having me followed. For all these years I thought I’d finally escaped him and— it was just a joke to him.” He heaved out a breath and Zaiya’s gaze flicked up to his face. He really looked like hell. From the look of it, he definitely needed a shower, but she didn’t want to interrupt him. So she decided to just ensure his wounds weren’t infected at least.

“He admitted it… like he was concerned about me—!” Maul spat, looking disgusted. Even Zaiya made a face. “All these years, I thought I was finally free of him. I thought he was out of my life… I was in the same city, yes, but I was living my own life— far from everything he represented.” Maul looked away, “I was wrong,” he said sourly. “After he gave his little taunt, he had his people escort me out.”

“I take it they were less than hospitable,” Zaiya said softly, gesturing to the state of him. Maul grimaced.

“They were not.” He paused and let out a deep sigh and glanced up at her. “I should go… after the last time I… I behaved disgustingly.”

“Yes you did,” she said flatly. “Yet you came here anyway.” She tilted her head slightly, “why?”

“I… don’t know,” he admitted, that strained look still on his face. “I managed to fight those fools back enough to get to my bike and I just drove… next thing I know… I was here.”

Zaiya searched his face. He looked genuine… and miserable. She lowered her gaze to his hands again, wondering why she wasn’t telling him to leave.

“You need a shower,” she said finally, “come on.” She moved to stand, gently taking his hands in both of hers. He stood easily but looked a little confused.

“You should be telling me to go.”

“Yes I should,” she admitted.

“I probably wouldn’t do the same for you,” he admitted with a grim expression.

“I doubt that you would,” she confirmed.

“Then… why?” he asked, bewildered. Zaiya took a deep breath, and looked down at his bloody hands.

“Most children only have monsters in their nightmares, and when they wake, all is well. People like you and I… the dreams are far more pleasant than reality,” she said quietly. “Even the bad ones.” There was a silence that passed between them. After a moment his hand squeezed hers. She glanced up, seeing understanding in his golden eyes.

There were no words for a while, and she led him to the bathroom where he could shower and get cleaned up, she would have to tend to his wounds when he had washed the dirt from them. While he was in there, she went to her closet and retrieved a set of men’s clothes, folded up in the back as well as a spare towel. She knocked on the door softly, opening it to bring them to him, and stopped as she saw him. He was stripped to the waist, and while he was indeed impressive to look at, her gaze softened to see the bruises starting to form on his ribs.

“I’ve got something to help with that when you’re done,” she told him quietly. He looked at the pile of fabric with a questioning expression.

“You have men’s clothes?” he asked.

“They’re my boyfriend’s,” she replied in a deadpan manner. She expected a roll of his eyes or some smart comment. What she wasn’t expecting was the sudden stricken expression that passed over his face for a brief moment.

“I see,” he said, his voice becoming hard. Zaiya blinked in surprise.

“I’m kidding,” she clarified with a slight frown. “I have them in case I need to disguise myself, or my work associates need to lay low.”

“Work associates…?” he frowned again.

“The… the guy. The one Saxon saw me with. He’s helping me, and my mentor told me to always be prepared,” she shrugged, her gaze trailing away. “It’s not like I have time for a social life these days anyway.” She caught herself and shook her head. “So, get yourself cleaned up and we can get those wounds dressed. You need to avoid infection.” She suddenly felt a little flustered under his intense gaze and pushed the clothes and towel into his hands, retreating from the bathroom again.

It was another fifteen or so minutes before he returned, giving her time to tidy up her files and make some toast. He’d probably be hungry after being awake all night. The door opened slowly, and it was strange to see Maul in a t-shirt and sweatpants, but he had to be more comfortable in this than his ruined suit. She offered him a place of freshly made toast, but took it back when he reached out with his hand.

“Hang on…” she said, and gestured for him to follow, taking her place on the couch again, putting the plates on the coffee table. Maul sat beside her again, and now that he was clean, she began to disinfect and cover his wounds. His eyes watched her as intensely as he had the first time.

“Why are you investigating my father?” he asked finally. “Who hired you?”

She’d known this was coming.

“My client wishes to remain anonymous,” she began, “but what I can tell you, even though I shouldn’t… is that I am here to expose him. To unearth every dirty secret and bring the dossier to someone that can do something about it.”

“You think there is someone that can do something about it?” Maul scoffed. “If you have been investigating him for as long as you have been here, you know how powerful he is…!”

“I do, which is why I have been working with people that can hopefully point me in the right direction.” She looked up at him again for a moment. “I have some allies, and we have a lot of dirt, but we need more. So far, he’s pinned quite a lot on you.”

“You don’t think I did it? That I am not working for him?”

“I did… but I don’t think that anymore,” she admitted.

“What changed your mind?” he asked cautiously. Zaiya finished with one hand and took up the other, looking into his eyes as she spoke this time.

“You did,” she said simply. “Of course this could all be an elaborate ploy. I wouldn’t put it past him…” she said bitterly, but then her expression softened. “Though I am confident that you are being truthful.” She wrapped his hand up, and gestured to his torso.

“That’s unnecessary,” he muttered and tried to wave her off as he reached for the toast. She seemed to have been correct about his hunger.

“You’re bruised and it’s going to swell, let me put an icepack on it… or should I just call an ambulance?” she threatened firmly, glowering at him. Maul raised a brow and looked at her for a few seconds. After a lengthy pause, he sighed, and gave in, lifting his shirt again while she reached for the ice-pack and wrapped it in a protective layer so it would not freeze his skin. She paused as she turned back, and had to force herself not to follow the contours and curves of the tattoos, and his body. It was hardly the time.

“You speak of my father like you know him,” Maul said quietly, as he held part of the bandage in place as she wound the other end around his ribcage. He was broad enough that he had to lean in, nearly hugging him as she wrapped the bandages firmly but not too tightly around him.

“I know some of what he’s done,” she said evasively. “I have seen the things he’s done here.” She avoided his eyes again, but he didn’t press.

She could feel his gaze on her as she tended the rest of his wounds, feeling her skin prickle and tension rising within her. She should send him back, or call his brothers… or do… something. Something to get him out of there, so he would leave.

“There, that should—” she looked up as she finished the last of the bandages, and the words died in her throat. Maul was looking at her with such an intense expression, that her breath caught in her throat. He looked to her eyes, then to her lips, and back again.

She shouldn’t…

He leaned in, and one of his bandaged hands caressed her cheek.

This wasn’t a good idea.

He drifted closer, lips parting…

She mustn’t let this happen.

Zaiya closed the distance and pressed her lips to Maul’s. At the acceptance of his affections, he leaned in further, snaking his hands around her, to pull her closer via her hips. The kiss became more intense, and she could feel a roughness, where his lip was split, and taste blood.

She pulled back slightly.

“You need rest,” she said quietly, though Maul, it seemed, didn’t want to stop kissing her.

“I need you,” he breathed a hair’s breadth away from her own lips. There was a deep melancholy in his eyes, a pain that she understood well. He didn’t want to be alone, and she was sure saying even those three words was hard for him. It was unspoken, but from the way he gripped her, he meant it. Her body relaxed in his grasp and he surged forward, kissing her deeply.

The hesitance in her mind faded away as she began to relax. Her plush form moulded against his as he pulled her even closer. This time her hands slid up over his shoulders and very gently caressed the back of his head between his horns. He let out a sigh against her mouth and gripped her hip tighter.

The rest of this chapter is NSFW - if you wish to continue please check out the full chapter on AO3

Notes: Hello friends!

Well… that break was far more extended than I anticipated! A few weeks became like 5 months. Yikes.

So in the time since I have seen you last, I was nearly made homeless, moved house, fell into a rut and creative depression and I am clawing my way back in an effort to finish this story by the end of the year. Sins is becoming my focus for the time being, though I do still have the desires to continue A Prince of Dathomir and with Ahsoka coming out - ohohoho do I have ideas for that series!

In the meantime, I will be mostly focusing on Sins for the time being, hopefully I am able to get it done sooner rather than later. I still have 2 chapters of Sins to write and to get about 30k words by the end of the year? Idk if I can make it with my current life being what it is, but we shall see!

So, I'll do my best to post some more Sins next fortnight!

----

Tags: (If your name is crossed out then check your settings or username -- Tumblr is not letting me tag you!) @alwayssnivellus @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @ashotofspotchka @justalittletomato @nahoney22 @eloquentmoon @stardustbee @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @rain-on-kamino @bacarasbabe @lifeless-being @lazarithebellydancingmime

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[joz-yyh]

Acta Est Fabula - Ch. 7

SUMMARY: Crimson Court AU. Damian and Tardif reunite in the courtyard and their relationship takes the next logical step. No Beta. Read at your own risk.

PAIRING: Bounty Hunter x Flagellant

RATING: E (slight sadism / monsterfucking / rough sex / sexual experimentation)

WORD COUNT: 5,430

READ ON Ao3: -> HERE!!

A/N: Hey ya'll, I love these two so much I made a ➡️ bounty hunter x flagellant discord server! ⬅️ (Click the invite link to come join the fun!) 🪓💌🪓 Also check out my BHxF chibis~ 💘

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Tardif runs through the tenacious fronds, intent on putting some distance between him and the vulturous pack of guards.

He stops once he's strapped for breath, reaching a small glade within the swamp. He peers around his surroundings, wondering if the vampire had made it out safely, if he was close behind.

“Damian,” he hollers, pulling apart the long grass native to this place, “Damian are ye here?”

Tardif waits, listens, fear getting the best of him, voice small and cracking, “Please, tell me yer here …”

He's met with the chirp of crickets, more droning hums of wings spawned from swarms of nocturnal creatures, but none carry the sanguine sound he seeks.

He's about to turn back, retrace his steps when a dense fog culminates around him, layers of a supernatural stratosphere building upon one another to form a jagged semblance of a human shape.

“Yes, my dear hunter. I am here.”

The words wisp in his ears, a lover's sweet nothings, the undead nobleman materializing before his eyes in broken layers of smoke.

He had not the time to reflect on it before, but in hindsight, Damian could have escaped him at any time with powers like this, obfuscate into nothingness, gone with the wind.

Somehow, their arrangement seems all the more precious, Tardif's old life left behind, along with everything and everyone he ever knew, needing to grasp hold of the one thing he'd given it all up for.

He yanks on golden forelocks, pulling the flagellant in for a kiss, knocking him off his feet.

And oh, what a kiss it is. The way those lips move, demanding comfort, pleasure, existence, it leaves Damian light-headed and delirious. If he had not fallen for the cocky blowhard before, he certainly would have now.

“Ye came fer me,” Tardif mutters, parting them with this epiphany.

It takes Damian a minute to recover from the intensity, still sucking at his own lips in desire for more, eyes fluttering open.

“Of course I did,” he says, the most simple and logical action he could have taken given the circumstances of his arrest, “Seems you didn't need me though.”

“I'll always need ye.”

It is said without jest, spoken purely from the heart, a rarity for the gruff brunette.

Damian gasps at such a bold declaration, eyes wide, his insides about to melt from how unbearably hot this man makes him.

“What about your friend? Will she be alright?”

“Boudica can take care of herself.”

A swift, perfunctory statement said with absolute confidence in her.

Well, if Tardif had no reason to doubt the warrior woman, then neither would he.

The two men give pause, affirming each other with gentle caresses, the last few hours so far away, dazed like a dream now that they were together again.

“My hero,” Tardif says, grinning.

“Hardly,” the vampire scoffs, never considering himself as such. Even so, he'll claim the spoils of the rescue, leaning back to resume what his partner had started.

There's a splash from the swamp, a hulking mass of croc skin stampeding right for them. Sebastian's long snout cuts between their snogging, nuzzling the brute in his master's stead, starving for his affection.

“Ey ye,” Tardif greets, nearly bowled over, giving the croc a pet, wondering if he'll ever get used to the reptile's surprise attacks.

“Seems I am not the only one happy to have you back,” Damian observes, touched by this heartwarming display, hiding his smile behind regal fingertips.

Tardif gives the creature a few more solid pats, Sebastian gurgling in appreciation as a coarse glove rubs down his fringe.

”As much as I would like to continue this, perhaps we should seek refuge. Lest we be rudely interrupted … again.”

“Oh, ye got a place in mind?” Tardif asks, brow raised in amusement, the croc keeping his hands sorely occupied.

“As a matter of fact, I do. It's in the water,” the vampire says, presenting a svelte hand towards the swamp.

“'Scuse me?”

“You told me to seek better accommodations,” Damian reminds him with an aggravated sigh, “and I have done so.”

For as much as Tardif heckled him about finding a suitable home, he seems to have completely forgotten about such concerns now.

“But it's … in there,” Tardif protests, eyeing the water’s surface with foreboding ilk.

After the mess he'd been through, one would think a little water wouldn't be a problem, but he can't exactly swim.

“Yes, Sebastian will lead us there. You need only to hang onto his back and he'll take care of the rest.”

Feeling left out, a jealous buzz flares up from the tracker insect, wanting some affection himself.

“Yes, little one,” Damian chuckles, unlatching the cage from Tardif's hip, “We have not forgotten about you.”

“'Ey, wot are ye doin’,” the hunter growls, expecting the vampire to put it back.

“Letting him out of his cage of course,” Damian pouts, eyeing his partner with indignation.

“Never out of his cage.”

“All the more reason,” the flagellant says, turning the miniature prison around in his hands, assessing the lock, “You've experienced incarceration yourself. Have pity.”

“Never been on his own,” Tardif grumbles, still absorbed in grooming the hybrid beast with bigger teeth, fearing what would happen if he stopped, “Wot if a predator picks 'em off?”

“Let the poor thing stretch it's wings at least.”

Damian sneaks one of his long nails into the lock, stretched keratin mimicking a makeshift key, testing the mechanism for the right sequence and length.

Once the latch clicks open, Pierre zips out into the free air, his streamlined body zig-zagging like a bullet.

“Amazing,” Damian applauds, watching the insect run laps around them, a dizzying afterimage of black, “It seems our little Pierre has quite the hidden talent.”

“Teh, he ain't ever comin’ back now.”

Damian turns towards his partner, a glimpse into the brute's vulnerable side, a forlorn expression upon his face. “Are you so afraid that the things you love will abandon you?”

He doesn't like Damian phrasing it like that, but yeah, he is.

“I am surprised you haven't tried to cage me,” the nobleman pouts, crossing his arms, interpreting his silence as confirmation.

“Haven't I,” Tardif deadpans, surprised that an intellectual like Damian hadn't picked up on the signs yet, “Wit’ my blood and that whistle there.”

Damian had never assumed that was the case, fishing out the keepsake from clothes, the chain still moored around his neck, their pact having more hidden clauses than he thought.

“Why would you tell me this,” he asks, hands trembling as he clutches the binding love token, revelation in his crimson irises.

“Tryin’ to take yer advice. Don't make me regret it.”

“Tardif,” the vampire pleads, taking a step closer, “I would not leave you, not now. Not with so much at stake.”

“Don't trust words.”

“Then, trust my actions. As you said, did I not come for you?”

Sure, but the flagellant could just as easily change his mind in the future, decide he's not worth sticking around for, just like everyone else.

The vampire sighs, putting a hand to his head in weariness. Sometimes, the hunter was insufferable, the stubbornness of his youth sporadic in nature.

“Pierre help me, please,” Damian asks, holding out a finger for the agile creature to land on.

In a flash, the insect obeys, long legs curling around the cuff of the aristocrat’s pale hand. The vampire spares him a few pets, mindful of his wings, stoking the segments of his body, “Your master is in need of your love. Will you show him for me?”

The insect buzzes, the flagellant lifting his hand to help him take flight only to land promptly on Tardif's shoulder, rubbing its hairy spines against the human’s cheek.

“There now, do you see," Damian asks, watching as the hunter becomes the center of attention, both tamed beasts competing at his side, "Are you thoroughly convinced?"

“Hn,” Tardif grumbles, giving up one hand to pet Pierre under his blood-stained nose, “it's a start.”

—-

The croc breaks into the musty air pocket, sloshing a wet trail up the rocky dock of the cave.

Insectoid legs pause at the crest of the landing, dripping dry, allowing his passengers time to disembark.

Damian is the first to jump down from his perch, but Tardif looks a bit worse for wear, having kept his eyes shut the whole way, gripping the reptile's wrinkled map of skin like his life depended on it.

“Still alive, my dear vampire hunter,” Damian teases, looking at his sad, waterlogged appearance.

The brute grunts, finally opening his eyes, wiping at his face, pushing back his soppy dregs of hair.

He can't say he enjoyed being whisked through the swamp, one of the more unpleasant experiences of his life, his lungs on fire from how long he'd been holding his breath.

He's still a bit disoriented from traveling at such a high speed, water rushing against him in resistance, taking in much needed gulps of air, coughing on it.

“The first time is always the hardest. I promise you'll get used to it,” Damian soothes, the younger man much too cute when he's so helplessly out of his element.

Tardif side-eyes him, not about to make a habit out of this unconventional mode of transportation.

He's glad they left Pierre back on the surface so he wouldn't have to endure the trip, the insect getting the greener side of the deal.

Damian assured him the liberated mosquito was more than capable of looking after himself, much too fast for anything to catch him, but Tardif still felt like an anxious mother bird letting him fly on his own for the first time.

“Come inside, let me show you around.”

Damian offers his hand, helping the brute to climb off the croc’s back. Feet now planted on solid ground, the vampire leads him further up the bank, their hands still clasped, the human finding it hard to see amidst the darkness of the underground, needing his guide.

There's something akin to a nest in the heart of the living area, reeds both old and new gathered together to form bedding atop slate and bones. Sebastian clambers into it, taking up most of the space as Damian shows his partner how small the dwelling is, pointing to a dithering fork in the path ahead.

“This side loops around, though there is a small pool at the end if you ever feel like taking a dip.”

“Teh,” the hunter scoffs, having had his fill of water for one day.

“The other side is a dead end. A cave in, by the looks of it.”

“So, only one way outta here?”

“Yes, it appears you're stuck with me for the time being. I do hope that won't be a problem?”

Damian arches a blonde brow, daring the other to say something rude, but Tardif just laughs it off.

“Won't hafta worry ‘bout ye gettin’ lost.”

“Or sneaking up on you in the dark?”

“Exactly.”

The brute takes in the meager sights, his eyes mostly drawn to the salvaged treasure trove scattered along the wall in a disorderly pile.

“Oh yes, Sebastian’s collection,” his host muses, fingers poised under his chin in contemplation as Tardif rifles through the menagerie of junk.

“He's been such a darling about gathering up materials from the swamp. I thought you might find something suitable in place of your blade. Seems the Order left you without protection.”

Tardif scoffs again, an almost smirk in light of the vampire's snarky dash of spice, remembering all too well his confiscated gear, no doubt residing in the church's armory.

Many of these antiques are too rusted to be considered viable replacements, but some of the more recently excavated weapons had potential. He’ll need to clean them up a bit, do some test runs to be sure they'll hold up to the demands of a real fight.

The nobleman utilizes one of the foraged torches, hoping to make it easier for the hunter to pick from the array of sadistic toys, snuff the chill in the process, humans being the fragile creatures they are.

Tardif witnesses the multitude of attempts, the cave illuminated with each crack of flint rock, the vampire having a terrible time getting the sparks to stay lit, the dampness of their quaint little abode forestalling his quest.

The hunter finally decides enough is enough, distracting from his task to rip off a piece of his pant leg, taking a vial of oil from his pocket, wrapping the fabric around the torch wick, dousing it in liquid fuel.

“Try it now.”

“But your poor clothes,” Damian says, looking at them forlornly.

“Not the first time they've been torn into,” Tardif jokes, recalling their depravity in the woods.

“And certainly not the last,” the vampire quips, his expression softening before such chivalry, “Thank you.”

Romantic mood lighting in place, the stage was now set for the vampire to make his move.

“I am going to make myself more comfortable. You should too.”

As Tardif acclimates himself to his new surroundings, Damian throws off his hat, shrugging off his jacket too, leaving them to hang on a crest of stalagmites, a glorified coat rack.

The hunter doesn't think too much of it. Made sense to shed the extra layers after cavorting around in bog water, especially if they were holding up here for the night. He should probably do the same.

He takes a seat at the outskirts of the croc’s nest, a crude circle made of dried foliage, tugging off his boots, turning them upside down, a stream of excess water trickling out.

“I hope you'll forgive the frugal accommodations,” the vampire says, combing a hand through his hair, wringing out the ends, “couldn't find the time to redecorate.”

“Fine by me,” his partner snorts, shaking free the last of the water droplets from his gloves, setting them aside to dry beside his footwear.

Even without the finer comforts of life, the hideout served its purpose, saving them from the danger of being left out in the open and that's all a wanted runaway really cares about.

“I've been thinking,” Damian teases, candlestein allure in his tone as he toes off his only shoe, “perhaps, it is time for us to make another deal.”

Tardif is only remotely suspicious, raising a brow at the proposition.

“Wot kind of deal?”

The vampire grins, so glad he asked, approaching with quite the rigmarole, a ball-toed saunter, Tardif watching him closely as he bends, slinking down into his lap.

“This kind,” the blonde accosts, slotting them together, clothed thighs sliding along his partner's damp knees.

Maybe Sebby can smell it in the air, but the croc seems to know it's time for him to enjoy a nice long swim until some intermediate time later when the two men are done rutting.

With a splash the reptile leaves them, headed back out into the swamp.

“And wot exactly do I get out of it,” Tardif asks, enjoying the friction, feeling warmer already.

Damian seems disappointed, self-conscious of his worth, weary of his partner's greed. He places an elegant hand upon the warrior's chest, pushing a distance, eyes gleaming with retrospect.

“Is your satisfaction not enough?”

“Always sweeten the pot,” the axeman tutors, a life lesson taught to him by his fellow hunters. It was never wise to barter at a fair price, that's how you lose profit, always ask for more.

Seems the hallowed flagellant has taken it the wrong way, so Tardif feels it necessary to lay on the charm, a knuckle running along the ridge of a porcelain jaw, taking his cold cheek in hand.

He inches closer, heterochromia eyes flicking between Damian and his lips, pulling him in for a kiss, one the vampire is becoming more agreeable to the longer he commits to it.

Once he feels Damian kiss back, scrape hands around his neck in telltale longing, he knows he is forgiven. Warm-bodied hands tug at narrow hips, keeping the blonde paramore in place, finding it appropriate to slip his tongue in, graze it past sharpened teeth.

The vampire is startled, flinching in hesitance, but lets him in. The hunter tangles their mouths in velvet heat, but no doubt returns to lick along his fangs, tempting their bite. The flagellant gives him what he wants, what they both want, piercing into a curious tongue, sucking on the gushing wound in fervent sups. Now that the vampire is distracted, swept up in the taste, does Tardif topple him, pinning the taller man onto his back.

Damian chuckles from his lowly position, sucking his lips of all the blood he can, ”Must you always play the victor?”

The hunter trembles, watching as his lover’s eyes darken, how they reflect his budding desire, wants to see how deep they can become.

“Just works itself out that way,” Tardif replies, as if nature itself paid him favor, staring down at his pallid lover, water dripping from his dark bangs, “So, now that ye know whose toppin’, how far we goin’?”

“As far as you want,” the vampire remarks simply, walking claws up his partner’s soaked shirt. He can't see the skin beneath, but the garment clings so closely that he has a strong impression of what to expect.

The hunter only needs a moment to contemplate, smiling around a heady breath, “I'll be takin’ all of it.”

Rather than haggle him about the faults of avarice, the vampire must address his own apprehension.

“You would want to,” Damian asks, surprised, laying a hand flat against his partner’s sternum, “Are you sure you're ready?”

“‘Course I am,” the hunter declares, cheeky in his every move, “the question is, are ye?”

“I think I can handle it,” he counters, now gliding nails along his arm, “But first, indulge me, how many have you been with?”

Tardif grumbles, a garden of rose blooming across his tan features, averting the honesty of his eyes, “Should be asking ye that.”

If the vampire out ranked him in years, then it most likely applied to his number of bedpartners and the hunter doesn't like the condolences of second place.

“There have been a few,” Damian confirms with a nod, a reserved blink that shows off the spun gold of his eyelashes, “And you?”

“Some, maybe more,” Tardif says, glossing over the specifics, “None like ye, though.”

“I am flattered,” Damian purrs, arousal crackling all around him, making the hunter shudder with anticipation, “your first vampire.”

Tardif doesn't take kindly to being teased, serves it right back by grasping at the nobleman's clothes, rough hands pillaging all he has to offer.

Fabric snags in the human's haste for more contact, more skin, pushing the intrusive shirt and vest up to notch under the contours of his ivory chin.

The vampire gasps, his eyes pinched in an arch as well as clothes, callous hands rubbing over the stiffened peak of his nipple, making them swell with sensation.

“These are the only rags I have left. What am I to do if you ruin them?”

Despite the blonde's blithe objections, the brute doesn't slow his assertively brisk ministrations.

“Hafta run ‘round naked I guess.”

Damian’s not sure if he could. It would be too improper for one of his upbringing, too uncivilized. Best to leave such things to the animals, an enigma for the imagination to explore.

“You're much better suited for streaking than me.”

He may have seen Tardif completely naked from the waist down, but he wants to see the other half unveiled too, put both tantalizing pieces of the puzzle together.

“Later,” he coos, moving to kiss at Damian's neck, sucking at it, tasting his own blood, the drip of iron in his mouth not quite cauterized yet.

Now this was a curious sensation, having a human mouth suckle on him. It's enjoyable enough that he’s tilting his head, giving the barbaric warrior as much unexplored canvas as he could possibly want.

“Does that mean you will want this again,” the flagellant asks, almost afraid to wish it true.

“Was planin’ on it,” he speaks between open-mouth kisses.

“You do so love your plans.”

His laughter returns, effervescent as it bubbles out his throat. Well, at least he knows Tardif likes him enough to repeat the act. How reassuring.

“Hmmm,” the brute hums, tongue darting out to lick at the fresh bruises blooming on his partner's skin, “No more talkin’.”

“So impatient,” the vampire tuts, “It's barely been that long since I claimed your release.”

How could Tardif forget? The memory is carved just as deeply as the twin puncture wounds in his thigh.

“Please, my dear hunter, won't you undress for me?”

With a needle-like grip, the flagellant strokes the back of his partner's neck, just under the woven hairs of his braid, enticing his request.

“Fine,” he grunts, but only because he likes the way Damian begs.

It happens in a flurry, the two breaking apart just enough to divest themselves, Tardif already throwing off his shirt, kicking off his lower layers, discarding them into a messy wet pile along with Damian’s signature tights.

The trained killer is all muscle and scars, flesh bearing the hunter’s mark, the vampire running claws over the telltale tattoo, tracing the bold lines, flesh so firm and sunkissed.

“You are divine.”

The compliment makes the hunter grin, supplying one of his own in return.

“Ain't so bad yerself.”

“Good to know this form pleases you as well.”

Tardif snorts at the thinly veiled crack at his devious tastes. He wasn't expecting to get off on a monsterfucking either, but it's not like he chooses what has attracted to.

Damian's pale skin glows even in the dim light, so deceptively frail like porcelain, just waiting for him to carve into it with his teeth.

The huntsman leans down, biting at his nipple, hands traversing a path along the smoothness of his sides, grasping at his thin waist.

Damian moans, thrusting more of himself into Tardif's hands, his mouth, the huntsman's erection twitching with gratuitous anticipation.

Fuck the foreplay, they've done enough of it already. Time to get right to it.

The brute licks his fingers, coating them with enough spit to guide them down, brushing between the scars of pure white thighs.

Slick digits brush against his core, mixing with the dampness of the marsh still left on their skin, mapping the breadth of a sinuous edifice before pushing in, Damian accepting the stretch with a dignified grunt.

The flagellant lifts a leg, spreading himself open, drawing Tardif's reach further inside, all the while digging claws into his lover's arm.

It really has been too long, all the human can focus on his how fucking tight he is and goddammit, a few probing thrusts shouldn't make his cock ache with this much impatience, but it does.

He wants to know, needs to know what it feels like to have that ass take him whole, wrap around so much more than just trifling fingers.

Sooner than expected his touch retreats, the vampire raising a refined brow at his brief preparations, just getting used to his pervasive girth before it's gone, passions left empty.

“Can't wait no more,” he offers in explanation, a fleeting answer to his partner’s questioning eyes.

He yanks at the flagellant's hips, pulling them into his lap, holding his cock against the same dizzying heat that still lingers on his fingertips.

Both men gasp as he pushes in, pliant flesh giving way to his devout hardness and Damian thinks it feels so very good to be wanted like this.

“Tardif,” he shouts, brows clenched in a bittersweet symphony, “what delicious pain you bring me.”

“Thought you'd like that.”

The huntsman shifts deeper, swathed in a sheath perfectly tailored to him, pulling back just enough to drive forward again, length claimed by inches until he's finally buried, all the way to the hilt.

He pauses there, lets them savor the feeling before drawing his erection halfway out, dropping a bit of spit between them to ease the way, a vulgar means of lube dabbing out onto his shaft.

“You couldn't have done that before,” the flagellant pants, a critique of the younger man's faulty methods.

True, he could have. He just didn't want to.

“Hn,” he grunts, too busy thrusting in, letting the motion of their bodies spread the slick into the tinted rouge of his beguiling passage.

“Let me see yer wings,” Tardif all but demands.

Damian chuckles, calves resting on either side of the huntsman's tanned hips. “That would require a slight change in our positions.”

Not about to let that stop him, the brute pulls out completely, flipping his partner onto his stomach.

“Ye were sayin'?”

He doesn't join them again, not right away. He seeks to torture them both, rubbing his cockhead all over over the stark curves of his ass.

“There, please,” Damian grovels, gripping at any of the stray reeds he can get his hands on, ”Let me feel you.”

“Not til I see yer wings.”

Despite all his rapturous need, the vampire still hesitates, huffing out a warning. “It's difficult for me to control. It could be dangerous for you.”

“I'll take my chances.”

Tardif thrusts for emphasis, tip grazing into the dark slit of his entrance only to yank it back out, goading him to obey, making him blind with desire.

“Come on, then.”

“Yes, yes, alright.”

Damian obliges, a wriggle of skin around his shoulder blades, branching structures breaking through the canvas of his back, unveiling a beautiful translucent membrane, then two.

They're long in diameter, spanning the length of an arm's reach, fluttering as they unfurl, stirring up a small wind as they fan gently, up and down.

Tardif swears there's a chime, a beat that follows their appearance, as if Damians attached bells to himself, something entirely magical about them, but the human was expecting more.

“Should be four. Lemme see all of ‘em.”

Tardif seems to be lost in the shine, the complexity of their frailness, thrusting in just as the second set unveils, shuddering around the smack of their hips. He grabs at them violently, tugs at the delicate juncture of where undead flesh and bloodsucking pinion meet.

“Ahhh,” the masochist cries, more of pleasure than pain, dragging nails across the floor around him.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yess,” Damian hisses, absorbed in the rippling sensation, his wings vibrating.

Whether it's a sign of bliss or a means to fly away, the brute can't be sure.

“Do ye like it?”

Damian takes a breath, fist clenching, unclenching, searching himself for the answer.

“... Yes.”

The grin that happens upon the axeman's face is one of the widest he's ever made in his life.

“Good.”

He kisses around the flesh he abused, soothing it, if such things were possible, scales sprouting from the flagellant's newly grown appendages.

Oh, and what's this?

There is a bulb protruding around his lover’s lower back, similar to a bloodsuckers rear abdomen, but it is quite petite, nowhere near as engorged as he’s seen them become.

He wonders if Damian is aware of its appearance, but rather than ask, Tardif prefers to experiment, rubbing along the tender red joint.

The flagellant's long, reverberating moan tells him all he needs to know, fueling his motivations to squeeze at it, the mysterious organ protruding even more, fine hairs and scales popping up around the hybrid’s skin.

“Please ... again,” the flagellant begs, lost in the pleasure, so close already.

“Found yer sweet spot,” the brunette tells him, as if he doesn't already know.

“Tardif, will you … s-stop … teasing me,” Damian pants, barely holding himself back from the brink, jerking his hips, needing his thrusts.

“Why?”

Tardif continues his merciless assault, enjoying his partner's gratification more than his own, the blonde going taunt, crying out as he cums, coating his belly and the stone wedged against it.

Oh, that must be why.

“Brute, savage, filthy vampire hunter,” Damian growls, blistering with anger, not achieving his release the way he wanted to, “Look what you've done.”

“Teh, just say ye love it,” Tardif whispers, lips brushing against long pointed ears, “Love my hot, bloody cock burnin’ inside ye.”

The vampire makes a noncommittal noise, neither agreeing or disagreeing, brows knitted in askance.

“Perhaps, if you utilized your cock more, we wouldn't have this problem.”

“Mmm.”

Tardif grumbles, angered by the jab at his performance, affixing both his hands to the bloodsucker’s tortured waist, drilling into him ruthlessly.

It's worth it to hear the vampire cry out, his voice echoing off the perspiring sediment in a series of “Yes, Tardif, yes,” hole stretched past its limit with each strike of his raging polearm.

The brunette can't keep the extravagant pace for long, he's too close, wincing from how sweet it is, resorting to a loop of languid thrusts to stave off his release, but it's too late, he's indulged too much too quickly, already cumming violently into his partner, biting into the nobleman’s shoulder to stifle his moan, the sensation too good.

“Mmm ahhh, fuck, Damian.”

Compelled, the huntsman jerks forward, attempting a few more repetitions, his lover squirming from the ordeal, his insides raw from the lack of lube and the abrasive sex, Tardif equally as sore.

He came more than he thought he would, the substance following him out, filled to the brim with cream-colored heaven.

“Don’t go yet,” the blonde says, bending his wrist back, lithe fingers blindly seeking his, “let me hold you a little longer.”

Tardif sees no reason why he can’t humor the request, intertwining their hands, letting them rest there, still connected, body and heart vibrating as one as they fight to regain their breath.

He mouths bleary kisses over the breadth of his lover's neck, the potent welts at his shoulder, the intensity of his orgasm finally beginning to settle.

“Beautiful.”

Damian can't say he's been called that before, a blush threatening to consume the entirety of his face, having felt such veneration, convinced Tardif is far more deserving of such adjectives.

The brute pulls out to lay down beside him, both men messy and lacking the means to clean up, the spent warrior thinking of the small pool the vampire had mentioned earlier to rinse off with, but they could save that for the morning after.

The flagellant snuggles up to his side, resting his disheveled head of hair on a thick-muscled arm, the insect feelers on his abdomen tickling the vampire hunter as they fold inward, pressed between them. He’ll have to remember to question the bloodsucker about those later, curious to how dexterous they could be, but for now he admires dark eyes blown bigger than the darkness around them, pale skin glistening with sweat.

“Do vampires dream,” he asks, playing with stray flaxen curls, twirling goldenrod thread around his bronze finger.

“I would say so,” Damian chuckles, reaching out to touch his lover's face, leaning in for a kiss, “I am in one right now.”

It's soft yet firm, lasting and warm, Tardif matching him in every aspect, hands holding the vampire in return.

“Gunna fall asleep,” the brute warns, eyelids falling shut, heavy lead sheets, the days of unrest finally catching up with him.

“Have I worn you out,” the vampire teases.

For once Tardif doesn't mind admitting to it, giving a barely perceptible nod.

“Wot 'bout ye?”

“I may want to go another round. After you've rested of course.”

“Won't make ye wait too long,” he grins in promise, lips pressing to the dolomite plains of his forehead.

As they lie there, Damian caresses him gently, coiling their legs together so that every part of them is touching, lulling the warrior until he's completely at ease, his speech reflecting it, slurred by bliss.

“Wake me up if somethin’ ‘appens.”

Damian chuckles, this side of his precious human so new and unexplored, so trusting to leave his body exposed before the cravings of a vampire.

The hunter need not worry, he would only drink from him if given explicit permission, his veins still infused with the rich draft of his gorgeous blood.

“Should I need rescuing, you will be the first to know.”

Tardif manages a lop-sided smile, Damian watching him drift off, tucking loose strands of hair back into place, making his beloved picturesque for slumber.

They have no coin, no legacy, just each other in all the world, but it’s more than enough for now.