#twelve kingdoms AU

[nillabean]

[At Disneyland, on the teacup ride]

Eishou and Gashin: *spinning calmly while talking*

Sougen and Risai: *flying past, spinning as fast as they can, screaming*

[fifteenleads]

Longing for Home

In Dion’s next life, he searches for the next ruler of his kingdom. But his heart yearns for only one person. A Juuni Kokki (Twelve Kingdoms) x Reincarnation AU.

Final Fantasy XVI | Dion Lesage/Terence | 2.5k | Gen | Complete

-

Part 1: Yearning

-

Dion's next life granted him a divine mission and an uncanny abhorrence of bloodshed.

The day his memories fully returned, his guts violently emptied themselves, and he refused to eat anything for days. The sages were all concerned, weeping silently as they entreated him day and night to no avail. Lady Genkun believed his sudden deterioration ominous for the new land he was to call home: the Kingdom of Ryuu was quickly reaching its last stages of destruction.

They couldn't be further from the truth, Dion thought, his now-frail constitution fiercely rejecting all the sins he had committed in his previous life. A kirin is a symbol of all that is pure and good, representing the hope of its kingdom for peace and prosperity for eons. Dion knows—remembers now— that he is anything but, as old blood weighs him down once more and whispers only he can hear drive him to madness.

Kinslayer, they called him. Destroyer of Twinside. Unclean. Unworthy.

Dion was no land's hope bearer. Ryuu's doom was more than certain.

Yet he refused to submit to the darkness that threatened to devour him. Such was the nature of the kirin, a being of light through which Heaven revealed its mandate to the people. So he clung to that same beacon, scattered prayers coalescing like fireflies until he recognized the one his heart yearned for, and the memory of a gentle voice broke the fever that had consumed him for days.

“Would that you were my master, but alas...”

“I will always be your loyal servant.”

Terence, the name left Dion's lips, I will find you again.

-

Calamity after calamity, yet life went on. The people of Ryuu endured, praying for salvation that may or may not come.

Terence was a soldier in this life, as well. He was the only one with memories of a past life, of wars and crystals and extinguished lives. It was all the same in his new reality, in a nation that has been kingless for decades. The Royal Ryuu had strayed from The Way, and the kirin was sacrificed for his lord's greatest folly. And Ryuu continued to pay the price to this day, as monsters ravaged the land in droves, emptying whole cities and driving people from their homes.

Last night, he had managed to let his parents escape on the last ship bound for neighboring En. They would at least be spared the memory of their son's inevitable death in the line of sworn duty to his country—a vow he knows all too well two realities over.

A new kirin inhabits Mout Hou, the hopeful rumors abounded. Ryuu's deliverance was finally at hand, at long last.

How ironic this all was, Terence thought, after they had fought for a world where no gods decided man's fate. Where mankind could live on their own terms.

Yet he'd do it all over again, if only to achieve once more the dream he and his liege shared, that fateful night at Twinside and beyond. Terence blinked back his tears, willing away fond memories of a prince he had loved and served long, long ago.

"Know that I do not ask this lightly."

"And know that I will do it."

Dion, the wind carried Terence's whisper, I will carry our hopes in this new land.

-

Part 2: Searching

-

Everyone in Houro Palace rejoiced the day Dion recovered.

Only barely, but it was as good a start as any if he was to properly seek out the one he yearned for. He was still too weak to leave Mount Hou; staying on his feet for extended hours still sapped him of what little strength his current body had.

It was on days like these that Dion sorely missed the weight of armor on his back, of his trusty lance in his hands. Kirin were forbidden from wielding weapons and engaging in combat, lest they are poisoned by malice and bloodshed. Another nation’s kirin disobeyed this natural instinct in order to save their king, only to nearly die afterward.

Dion was no ordinary kirin, however, and he was only determined to prove it—for himself, if not anyone else. He’d always risen to the challenge, no matter how insurmountable.

Many had come and gone in Dion’s first lifetime, who had served as the wind beneath Bahamut’s wings and brought him far to reach where he stood now. One in particular became a forceful gale near and dear to his own heart, and it pained him so much to have let go, to have forgotten all this time.

Now, that desire to see his beloved again grew stronger day by day, fueling him with the strength he needed to carry on.

Dion bided his time for the next few weeks, conserving his energy for what he anticipated to be a long, harsh journey ahead. He made his preparations with utmost urgency and discretion, all while avoiding the sages’ watchful gazes. He had to leave by the winter solstice, when the Reigon Gate opened for the annual pilgrimage.

In his many years on Mount Hou, Dion had never sensed the next King of Ryuu among the pilgrims. He had not understood the reason for Heaven’s silence back then, even as hundreds sought to ascend the throne and failed. Even as Ryuu fell further into darkness, its people crying in anguish to the gods that had forsaken them.

It only became clear the day he remembered his past, and he knew at once where—to whom—he must go. He could only hope Terence was well, wherever he was.

They will definitely meet again, Dion was certain of that.

-

On the day of the winter solstice, Terence embarked on the pilgrimage to Mount Hou.

Hundreds of caravans still crossed the Yellow Sea after all these years, the rough terrain steeped in dark miasma and teeming with wild beasts even more ferocious than those that crawled Ryuu’s borders. In his years as a soldier of Ryuu, Terence had received many offers to accompany those who wished to ascend the holy mountain, but he’d always refused every time, having no desire for the throne. Many of the pilgrims had made the journey more than once by now, fueled by ambition for honor and glory, among many other things.

Terence only wished salvation for his broken land. Nothing more than that.

It was all far from simple, however.

Would that he could return to his prince's side once more, Terence found himself thinking at times, when his fellow countrymen began to look to him for guidance and inspiration, the way he'd look to his own liege for the same a lifetime ago. He was no stranger to leadership at all, having served as captain of his troops in both of his lives, but the weight of the people’s hopes and expectations slowly wore him from the inside.

It made Terence understand the burden Dion carried a little more—and that it was not enough.

Perhaps this second life was indeed a means to redemption, to carry out a noble legacy that had abruptly ended before being fully realized. This new purpose filled Terence with a sense of pride and responsibility he was only too familiar with, giving him the strength and the will to carry on this uncertain path, and culminating in this journey he took now—for himself, if not anyone else.

Terence looked up to the sky, blue and red meeting gently as day slowly broke. He thought he saw the figure of Bahamut at a distance, as if his prince imparted his blessing from across worlds.

A smile crept up his lips for the first time in a long while. They will meet again someday, no matter how many lifetimes it would take.

-

Part 3: Coming Home

-

Dion ran.

He’d always preferred his real form—a single-horned golden steed—over his human one. Transforming came naturally to him, as did the gracefulness with which he raced away from Mount Hou, above and beyond the Cloud Sea, where there was no pollution, no suffering.

Where he was free.

His thoughts drifted to Terence once more, fondly recalling an afternoon from their youth as knights-in-training. Dion had yet to fully master his control over Bahamut when Terence wondered what it was like to fly.

Bahamut may not have had the capacity to scream, but the sheer exhilaration in Terence’s own voice more than made up for it. Dion reveled in his beloved’s joy, savoring the warm wind that filled his lungs and rushed beneath his wings as he sped up, all while Terence’s firm grip on his back tightened.

The memory filled Dion with renewed vigor that spread from his core down to his legs. He continued to run, galloping through an endless stretch of sky and sea. His heart swelled in anticipation; he was close—so close.

Dion plunged into the Cloud Sea, finally descending upon human land. Several caravans lined the dirt road in the direction from which he’d come. The travelers were no doubt flabbergasted at the sight of him galloping past them from above, but none of them held his interest save for one.

Ah… his eyes are as beautiful as Dion remembered, even as they widened in shock and awe and a myriad of emotions that filled his heart because—

“Terence,” Dion breathed out, “it’s me.” 

-

The group was only halfway across the Yellow Sea when pandemonium almost broke out.

“The Lord of Mount Hou?! There’s no way!”

“It’s the kirin! Ryuuki is here!”

“What if the new king is among us?”

“Finally, after so long! Ryuu is saved!”

Terence could only look to the skyline in the direction of the rising sun, as a magnificent unicorn bathed in pure light came into view. He’d never seen a kirin up close until now; it was indeed as beautiful and radiant as the legends have described.

That presence he’d felt… he didn’t imagine it, after all. Terence’s heart raced at the mere possibility. Could he really be…?

The kirin slowed down as it reached the ground, yet marched on with its head high in a straight path—towards him.

Heavy silence engulfed the entire camp at once. Everyone prostrated themselves on the ground, not daring to lay their eyes on such a holy creature. Though many of them embarked on the pilgrimage desiring the throne of Ryuu, they all knew at this very moment that the kirin had finally chosen its master.

“Terence,” it addressed him in Valisthean, “it’s me.”

A plethora of emotions flooded Terence’s heart at once—shock, confusion and awe, among many others—as he fell to his knees, looking into the kindest, warmest eyes that had long filled his memories and dreams from a lifetime ago.

“My prince,” his voice cracked as he greeted his liege, tears welling up in his own eyes. “It has been so long.”

Dion moved in closer, nuzzling against Terence’s neck. He’d always loved to do that when they were alone, their closeness greatly comforting after a long day in the field or in the war room. Dion’s long mane brushed against a sensitive spot beneath Terence’s chin, and he couldn’t resist the tremble that overcame him.

A warm chuckle came over his beloved. “My apologies,” Dion mumbled, the warmth in his voice exactly as Terence remembered it. “You were always ticklish there, weren’t you.”

Dion’s kirin form dissolved in a flood of light, leaving in its place a thin, golden-haired man in white and black robes. The gaunt, weakened form did him no justice at all, but Terence immediately understood: his prince had suffered much in this world.

He immediately caught Dion in his arms. “You should rest, my prince.”

“I will, later.” Determination filled his liege’s eyes, even as he struggled to hold himself upright in Terence’s arms. “But I must say this to you first.”

Dion locks his gaze with Terence’s, his hold on Terence’s shoulders firmer. Let me do this, Dion seemed to say, his eyes filled with the same purpose that earned him the loyalty of so many through the years. Terence nodded and slowly let go.

Terence would remember the next moment for the rest of his life—his prince and commander, and the love of his very life, bowing to him reverently as he recited the sacred oath of the kirin: "I bestow upon thee the crown by the will of the Heavens. I swear never to desert my post before thy throne, I swear never to disobey thy orders. I pledge to thee my loyalty and protection and the promise of the Heavens."

Dion looked up after uttering these words, radiating warmth and joy and hope. Terence remembered his prince’s wistful wish from a lifetime ago. It was not a mere desire to yield or give up, but a deep, earnest longing for someone to stay by his side. For someone to be himself with, to be free to live and love with for the rest of their days.

There could only be one answer: “I accept.”

With that, the pact had been made, and Terence became the new King of Ryuu.

-

The size of Tankei Palace rivaled that of Whitewyrm Castle, but its design reflected a serene simplicity that was vastly different from the conventions of their old world. Dion found that he liked the scenery here, the gentle changing of the seasons calming his heart the way Oriflamme never did.

He had confided as much to Terence, his king, who was currently fussing over him in the privacy of their own pavilion overlooking the Cloud Sea. It had been all too easy for them to fall back into old habits, even after all this time. Way too easy.

Dion stifled a soft laugh at the thought, prompting Terence to look up from his teacup, “Is something wrong, my prince?”

“Only Dion, please,” he reminded his king yet again. “We are no longer in Valisthea. You are my master now in this world.”

Terence’s face immediately flushed at that statement. The effect had been more than what Dion had intended, but he would not content himself with that just yet. “I am serious, Your Majesty. It would be best for you to get used to your new position now before we receive the Divine Mandate. The denizens of this world take hierarchy and protocol more seriously than back in Sanbreque.”

They both knew well how the twelve kingdoms worked, having already lived enough of their lives in this second reality granted them. Even after everything that had happened and all the things they had done, they had found each other, despite all the odds and misfortunes and sins that tore them apart. 

It was more than enough to be grateful for.

Terence had finished considering Dion’s words, huffing in reluctant agreement. “I understand, Dion. I should listen to my Taiho’s counsel from here on out.”

“That you should,” Dion nodded wisely. “And in turn, I will always be by your side to support you.” A tender smile graced his lips. “Like I always have.”

“Like we both always have,” Terence corrected, gently kissing Dion’s forehead.

-

THE END

Overview of The Twelve Kingdoms

Kirin, as depicted in 12K

The pilgrimage (Shouzan)

About the series (Please please please read/watch it! You won't regret it, I promise!

[red-winter-is-coming]

I’m DOUBLE (MeMe)

Anyways Art and Healer in the Children’s Record AU are so damn tragic and I love them.

what if I cared so much about keeping you blind to the pain that I let a demon literally eat away at who I am, just so you won’t suffer. What then.

[ladybitterloss]

some old sketches . . .

[illegiblewords]

I really wish that, when creators of multi-part stories decided to make new additions, they would look at what aspects of their world or story overall hasn't been explored yet or if there are interesting possibilities/questions raised that could be examined. As opposed to ya know... pulling totally unrelated shit out of their asses.

It doesn't just feel forced--it's frustrating for audiences who are invested and curious about the world/characters. It feels like the source creator cares less about the work than the fans do at some point.

[sesamenom]

maglor's second run as high king regent (while elrond tries to figure out who gil galad is even related to):

Elrond: Hey.

Maglor: What do you want?

Elrond: So, Gil-Galad died.

Maglor: And?

Elrond: We need a new king.

Maglor: Absolutely not.

[lilacgaby]

‧₊˚ running out of time,

to make you love me. ₊˚⊹ᡣ𐭩

THE PRINCE'S BALL was to be had on his 18th birthday. the week before, you realize the feelings you have harbored over the years for him. little did you know you were both fighting against the time restraint placed on him.

-☆pair. prince!katsuki x servant!reader. tags: fem!reader, cursing, romance, kissing, childhoodfriend!reader, insecurities, pet names(?), miscommunication trope, wingmen, angst to fluff. royal!au wc: 5k

-✩note. based off this drabble i did a long time ago.

“prince, please! just let me–” he shoved your hand that was moving to button up his shirt away, glaring at you. “no. i can do this by myself.”

he fumbled with the buttons, large hands trickly maneuvering them into their respective places. it was a definite struggle, as seen through the furrow in his brow, the snarl on his lips, the twitch of his brow.

oh, and the fact that the shirt was inside out with all the buttons in the wrong holes.

you sighed as you finally took his hands into yours, something that would result in a peasants hand getting cut off entirely. “prince,” you started, “this is my only responsibility. if you become good at this too i'll be out of a job.” you joked.

he scoffed, letting you pull his hand to his side as you unbuttoned his work. flipping the shirt around and working nimbly to get it on. “didn't even need y’r help anyways, i had it.” he muttered.

“of course you did, it's just– this is my job, your highness.” his eye twitched at the assertion of his rank. while it made him feel empowered by others, extras as he'd call them, it brought an odd feeling to have you of all people refer to him that way.

he’d grew up alongside you, the daughter of his very own mother’s handmaiden. you'd play around the castle together, sitting in for lessons with each other. to others it was an odd sight for you to be there, with clothes made of less refined material and hair unstyled and free.

he was raised the first twelve years of his life seeing you as his equal, viewing you almost as a royal all the same. until it was decided you'd be his personal servant. the nickname you had forgotten to time that you'd dubbed him all those years ago was now replaced by a formal ‘prince’. you'd bow to him and fetch him anything he needed. you'd stay by his side all day long, almost like you weren't allowed to leave.

because you weren't. because you were his, though not in the way he wanted.

“i already told you,” he whispered so lowly, if you weren't so close to him you wouldn't have heard it. “when it's just us it's katsuki. like it..

like it used to be.”

your hand paused, staying where it was fluffing up the collar of his button-up. your eyes widened and heart fastened, the pumping in your ears as a smile overtook your face. “..okay katsuki.”

an equally flushed look brushed over him, “tsk, whatever. we got a busy day today so, hurry up [name]..” you nodded, saluting mockfully as you hurried fixed his coat onto him, making sure his slacks were nicely pleated and shoes spotless before he head out to address the royals.

the royals who were visiting today in regards to his birthday bash in a week. the one where he'd have to choose a wife, one who'd hold the future of his kingdom in her hands alongside his.

you followed closely behind him as he made his way down to the main court, no words were shared between you but you understood the internal turmoil going through his head as best as you could.

mostly because you really didn't want him to get married either.

a longing glance went unnoticed by you as he looked at you, red eyes noticing the same feeling of anxiety in yours.

he balled his fist a little tighter at the sight, before slamming the doors of the court open, making everyone jump. you bowed deeply before following him, his hands deep in the silken slacks specially made for him.

katsuki hated how you weren't allowed to sit down almost as much as he hated this meeting entirely. dumbass kings and queens of other kingdoms looked at him, or more accurately the figurative seat he'd soon have as ruler, with fake practiced smiles on their faces. fake interest and fake emotions, fake everything.

he didn't fight the snarl on his face, the discontent in his posture as he rolled his eyes at their words, not sparing glances at the photos of their daughters or offers of money to him and his parents.

he truly didn't care, at least, not until they brought up you.

an older king, one with a smile that was more so with his eyes than his lips, joked to the king, “so, when your son gets married, can i have the servant? she's a looker.”

the rest of the royals laughed, hands covering their faces as katsuki felt disgusted for you, so much he just had to speak, “back off. why are you talking about her like that anyways? she's not for sale.” at least he managed not to curse.

a queen with a stupidly large fan in her hand made exaggeratedly big eyes, an ‘o’ on her lips as she spoke with a sickeningly sweet voice, “oh, don't you know future king? when the queen is assigned to this kingdom, your servant will be switched, considering she isn't a, well, he.” another joined in, red lipstick smothered over their lips, “no self respecting princess would ever let their betrothed have a servant of the opposite sex, what a scandal!”

laughs filled the room once more, though katsuki and his parents did not join in. he gripped the wood of his chair tightly, you swore you heard it crack under the weight of his anger. a vein was visible in his arms, a glare on his face. though he stayed silent. he glanced at you occasionally, and you'd give him a polite wave.

the rest of the conversation went about as smoothly as expected. the royals clashed with the kingdom’s generally ‘out of norm’ beliefs, a woman as the main advisor of the kingdom, and not to mention the queen holding majority power steady? but they barely voiced their discomfort since they wanted to stay on the queen and king’s good side. with a wave of the hand the queen gestured for katsuki to leave.

so katsuki left as soon as he was allowed to, almost jumping out of his seat. he left without a proper dismissal to the royals, something he'd get reprimanded for later. you right behind him. “where are we going prince? are you hungry?”

“no.” his voice was dry, no emotion seeping through as he continued walking throughout the halls. his face was hidden from your view. “okay, so where are we going?”

“the gardens.” your face scrunched up in confusion, you sped up your steps to try and catch him. “wait, the gardens? why?”

he stopped, making you bump into him as he finally looked into your eyes for the first time in a while. “because we need to talk, [name].” his eyes looked almost betrayed, sorrowful. your mouth opened to respond but you were cut off by your own need to keep up as he started up again.

through the halls and down a staircase, then turning to the left.

he stopped at the center of it all, almost to the entrance of the maze. stood in front of a grand waterfall built into the greenery, one you were very familiar with. the same one you'd played at as kids.

“katsuki.” you heaved. having to chase him through a flight of stairs was not for the weak, a.k.a you. you plopped right down on the bench next to him, ungraciously downing a water bottle as you closed your eyes. the sound of birds chirping, water running, and wind blowing through the garden filled your ears. a sense of serenity flooding over you two.

“when were you going to tell me?” katsuki’s voice cut through it all, a soft tone in his statement as he looked away from you. you jumped up at the sudden noise, but quickly asked, “tell you about what?”

he scoffed. “about what happens when i get married. how you're just going to leave? you're just going to leave me?” his eyes burrowed into your soul, accusatory words leaving his mouth as he stared at you.

“no, no i just– katsuki i didn't want to add another thing to stress about to you so quickly. i was going to tell you, but they told you first. i'm sorry.”

“you should be. i– i don't-,” his words got caught up in his mind. his mouth slightly hung open as he found himself unable to complete his sentence. his brain short circuited when you grabbed onto his hand, intertwining and bringing them onto your lap as you ask, “is everything okay?”

the words rushed out defensively. “yes, fuck. yes i'm okay. i don't like you hiding things from me so, don't pull that shit again.” he internally slapped himself on the head, his mind yelling a resounding no at his mouth.

he wanted to tell you how he needed you to stay, how he wanted you by his side for eternity. how he wished you were a royal, because he would've proposed just to the sight of you in the mornings. to the candid moments your two shared so often.

but he didn't.

you were undeterred by his harsh language, squeezing his hands before letting go and nodding. “ of course, prince.”

there it was again. the everlasting reminder of the differences between you, the boundaries that had never been dared crossed. though, as you guided him to the dining hall, he felt he might have to take that chance.

…

he finished dinner and changed, wanting to go to bed early that day. you bowed once more, before going to your own personal chambers just across from him.

you took a long, hot shower. the cascading of the water onto your body helping sooth the questions plaguing your mind. you washed your face, brushed your teeth and laid onto your bed, staring at the moonlit sky as you sigh.

you didn't want to leave katsuki. not at all. you didn't want him to get married, you didn't want him to kiss or be affectionate with someone else, you wanted him for you, like you two have always been. just for each other.

you wanted him to confide in you as equal again, you dreamt of being able to sit at the same tables and converse publicly. you wanted to hold his hand and not fear one day it'd be chopped off.

you wanted to be his. fully.

you let the sounds of the remaining water drip from the faucet rock you to sleep, impulsive thoughts striking your mind as you thought.. you might as well use these last days to show your feelings to him. you'll be gone next week anyways.

waking up with a renewed sense of vigor, you knew you now only had a couple days to show katsuki your feelings indirectly. well, as indirectly as you could think of.

starting this day, you snuck in more lingering touches than you thought possible, complimenting him whenever you were alone. being sweet to him, so sweet that he kept asking if you wanted something.

“prince, i brought some more of those chilis you like.”

instead of accepting them graciously, he only eyed you suspiciously. “the hell do you want?” he asked, staring at you accusedly as he bit down on one with no reaction.

“nothing! why do you keep saying that?” you pouted, “i should take the damn chilies back.”

“no way. these are mine, [name].” he snatched the basket out of your hands and stuffed one in his mouth. when he finally gulped it down, he adorned a lazy smirk, “thanks, [name].”

you hated how your heart reacted to him.

while your plan was underway of trying to get him to realize your feelings for you, he-

was trying to figure out how to keep you by his side. he used your only off day, mondays, as a way to get some advice. too bad he was friends with a bunch of bumbling idiots.

they were gathered around a place meant to practice their swordsmanship. his ‘friends’ who consisted of sons of dukes, duchesses, and advisors hung around. he kicked out a lot of them, leaving only three. sero, kirishima, and kaminari.

“hey bakugo, what's got you all crazy?” kaminari asked, trying to snipe an apple off of a nervous kirishima's head with a bow. “yeah, you've been giving us a death stare all day.” sero agreed, laughing at his repeated misses.

katsuki's back faced them.“i..,” he sucked in a breath. “ineedyourhelp.” he muttered quickly.

“what?” they all stopped, staring at him confused.

“ineedyourhelp.”

“slow down man-”

“i need your help.”

they all were jaw slack at the revelation, eyebrows raised as they stared at each other and back at him. they collectively chose not to make fun of him, almost feeling the urge to applaud his growth. “oh.. uh- what's up bro?”

katsuki breathed in, before averting his eyes and explaining. “my.. personal servant. found out she's gonna leave when i get married to some random princess, ill never see her again. but.. i don't want to lose her. i can't imagine my life without her.”

the three blinked, they'd never really seen bakugo this way. a look in his eyes that could only be described as, “love.” kaminari muttered, his hand supporting his chin as he diagnosed him. “you're in love man, congrats!”

he was now breathless as thoughts ran throughout his head, he found himself unable to respond. it was so obvious, his feelings for you were out of the ordinary, but he could never quite place the title of his symptoms til now.

the three shared a look at each other again, before sero pointed his finger in the air, “obviously, you want to marry her.”

katsuki sighed, a hand moving to support his head from head his neck. “so?”

“so,” kirishima started, “you marry her. easy.”

“not easy, isn't that like against the law?” kaminari cut in, picking up his bow once again.

“law or tradition, who knows? but maybe in those dusty old books we can find a law that like, lets him do this?” sero suggested.

kirishima snapped. “that's it!,” the arrow flew to pin the apple into the wall, “we just have to prove that he's allowed to marry a non-royal.”

“you idiots make it sound so easy.”

“cause it is. we can handle the research with help from your huge library!” kaminari pointed out, grabbing the staked apple and taking a bit out of it. “matter of fact. let's start now, we're going to need to plan out for your big day anyways.” kirishima held out a hand to bakugo.

a smirk came over katsuki’s face as he grabbed his hand, before nodding. “right.”

the rest of the day was spent knee deep in book upon books. the book keeper’s apprentice even helped them out, though they finally left at midnight with the ten books that would have the answers they need. they'd shoved the bulk of the books under his bed, high-fiving him sleepily as they hopped onto carriages, promising to be back tomorrow.

and back they were. the grind continued as they read page to page, finding clauses and conditions that could help katsuki. they each were assigned a book to look through, though they had to hide it from you. which was hard since looking after katsuki was your job.

“prince, is there anything you or your guests would like?” you asked, internally sobbing as you couldn't undergo your top tier plan with his friends around. what were they even doing? the entire day they spent holed up in his chambers, sat in a strange circle as they all read through the books.

“uh, we're okay-”

“actually servant,” kaminari cut in, a cheshire smile on his face, “we made a huge mess in the library yesterday. mind cleaning it for us?”

“o-oh. i don't mind, excuse me.” with that, and the tray of snacks you'd left behind, you were gone. sero and katsuki finished their books first, not finding anything of use. they started the next ones, when a couple hours in, kirishima suddenly jumped up, the cheese he was snacking on now discarded as he held the book into the air. “guys! i got something!” he was about to read it when an excited katsuki went and took it out of his hands, reading it in his mind.

‘clause 1.43.77, any king or queen who rules over their kingdom must choose a royal to accompany them by their side and produce an heir to the kingdom.

however, if a non-royal has proven their worthiness through devotion and loyalty to not only said king or queen, but the kingdom, they are an eligible bachelor as well.’

“this.. this can work then.” the four exchanged exhausted smiles, before collectively passing out. you came back to the sight of them all slumped over, you were tired yourself from putting away hundreds of law books. you grabbed pillows and blankets, placing them over the heirs to the kingdom, gently raising their heads and laying them onto the pillows.

you were upset at the day lost, katsuki had barely been sparing you a glance as of late. and that continued into the next day. you brought breakfast for all him and his guests, waking them up with a pull of a curtain. they all groaned collectively, trying to shield their eyes from the blinding sun. “what time even is it?” one of them grumbled. “too early.”

“it is noon, i let you all sleep in. you really should be getting up now.” you left the tray in front of them, being mindful of the books splayed open around them.

they got up, the red-haired one seemingly smelling the food in the air? odd. they all were really odd to say the least. they stared at you silently, making you tilt your head in confusion. all before katsuki raised a hand to you, mirroring his own mothers actions towards himself. “you're.. dismissed until the ball, [name].”

your eyes widened, mouth agape for a second before taking your leave. as the door closed behind you, a weird feeling of despair overtook you. you wobbled over to your room, locking the door behind as the feeling settled over you. you stared out the window, the cloudiness of the skies doing nothing to alleviate your mood.

meanwhile, katsuki was planning once again. there was now only two days left, two days to decide how he was going to plan out his bash.

two days to deal with the uncertainties that would arise from his crush on you. he could lose you, marry some other woman and imagine it was you laying next to him. imagine it was your lips and not hers, pretend she acted like you, all to save from the stresses of worrying about the problems to come.

no, he wanted you. he needed all of you, he needed to be all yours.

he sent his friends off, calling carriages for them

and reluctantly thanking them for their help. he walked around the gardens again, reminiscing on the years you two had spent, the many memories you'd made together.

he thought back to the way you'd play together, the causal touches and referring of each other something he'd taken for granted.

he closed his eyes, he never wanted his time with you to end, kingdom be damned. he wanted to memorialize your time together forever.

unknowingly, foiling your very own plans to make more with him. you didn't know what to do with yourself, you found yourself back at the servant’s quarters sniffling softly into the lap of the head servant, your mother. you knew he didn't upset you intentionally, right?

your mother listened as you explained what had happened, how you never had felt like such a failure. maybe it was those idiot friends of his, you didn't know.

your mother comforted you with a hand running along your hair, her embrace rocking you to sleep that night. her eyes looked into your sleeping ones, your face squished against her legs as wore a face of worry. your feelings were obvious, attending the bash and seeing him choose a bride would hurt you..

should she forbid you from attending?

…

katsuki was walking around his room aimlessly. his mind was running, purely on thoughts of you. he couldn't get you out his mind, he missed you deeply. but, he needed the space away from you to think. at least that's what he thought earlier.

he was basically codependent on your presence now, the day he'd spent away from you felt like an eternity.

he couldn't sleep. he'd laid in his bed dozens of times at this point, shutting his eyes, covering his ears, even trying to hum to himself. nothing worked.

he finally couldn't take it anymore, he found himself walking to your room. his hand hovered over the door, until he finally knocked. at no reply, he assumed you were asleep, though he heard the shuffling of feet inside. ‘this will make it easier.’ he thought, as he whispered and figured he'd pour his feelings out to you, response or not. his hand splayed against your door, palm pressed against the oak of the wood as he began.

“[name].” he heard the shuffling of feet stop. “i.. i have.. feelings for you. ones that i shouldn't have. i care for you deeply. and– i think i love you.” he was still as he waited for something, anything from you.

he let a small smile overtake his face, his hand falling from the door and going back into his pocket. “g’night, [name].” he went back into his room, finally able to rest now that he felt he got his feelings off his chest.

his heart was racing, he still didn't know if you felt the same. you said nothing, which was expected. he did drop a bomb on you all of a sudden. he finally drifted to bed.. not hearing the open and closing of your door. and not seeing that it was your mother who he had confessed to, not you who was currently asleep in her mother’s bed.

your mother pondered over his words, smiling at just how hopeless you two truly were. she caressed your hair once more, falling asleep beside you as she decided.

you'd have to go, and you'd be dressed like royalty in your own right.

your hair was ruined. you groaned as you caught an eye of yourself in one of the many mirrors in this part of the chambers, some of your friends laughing at the sight of you. this last day would be busy, too busy. it'd be your last day as katsuk’s servant, and you'd barely be able to see him.

you pouted, waltzing around the chambers mindlessly until your mother arrived behind you.

“[name], let's go. you have fittings for the bash tomorrow.” she grabbed you before you could voice your disapproval, taking you to your room. though she let go of you and walked into your room. you mindlessly went to katsuki’s room, wanting to be at his side at least once before tomorrow. at no reply to your knock, you excused yourself before walking in, only to be met by the sight of a messy room. empty. you cleaned his room up a little bit, making the task for his future servant a bit easier.

you left his room, laying on your bed before you saw gorgeous dresses that could probably buy your life two times over.

“mother, i don't even think i'll go tomorrow.”

“you have to, dear.” she grabbed your hand, “the prince would want you there alongside you. just like how you've been all his life.”

you looked to the floor, “but he sent me away..” your mother responded by nudging your head up. “he still cares for you. your absence is going to be odd for him, don't you think he was just trying to protect himself?”

you sighed and shrugged, “i guess i'll go then, if not, then to tie off loose ends.” you eyed the three dresses in front of you, and chose the one woven in silks and lace of your favorite color. “that one,” you pointed to it.

“i'll choose that one.”

…

funnily enough, as you walked into the bash and found yourself drinking punch, those were the words you'd felt the most fear of hearing. you fit right in alongside the princesses of other lands scattered across the hall, making lines to go speak to katsuki, who was absentmindedly staring at a wall. he looked like he'd rather be anywhere else in the world, but as his eyes locked on to your moving form towards the balcony, he excused himself.

“[name].” he called out to you, making you turn around and smile softly. “katsuki.”

“you look.. amazing.” he complimented, moving closer to you. “thank you for.. uh.. coming.”

“of course, future king. i'll stay by your side 'til

the end of tonight.”

he nodded. “right.” he sighed once more, something he seemed to do a lot around you now. “[name], did you hear me the other night?” he asked, looking into the distant forests surrounding the castle. at the shaking of your head, he continued, “i.. i just really care for you. that's all i want you to know.” he didn't look at you, he didn't think he could handle it right now. even from the vision of his peripherals, the glistening of your skin in the sun that slowly departed, the dress that matched you both in personality and in beauty, the smile that overcame your lips. it was a vision that would live in his dreams eternally.

“i care for you too katsuki.”

he finally turned to face you, he smiled, before opening his mouth to speak. only to be cut off by the sound of an obnoxious trumpet. he was to make his choice. “go.” you said, pushing him inside. your eyes burned as realization set into you, you'd ran out of time.

he was pushed to the center of the hall, all the princesses facing him with practiced smiles. courtesy's and bows that made him feel odd. the crown on his head had never felt so heavy, so burdened as now.

he looked over to you, the words everyone spoke pushed to the back of his mind as you sent an encouraging thumbs up his way. he knew you though, the look on your face was one of underlying sorrow.

even in this room full of people, even in the whole world large and vast, he'd always choose you.

so, when the room was silent and awaiting his answer? he pointed to you, making your breath hitch and eyes go wide.

you pointed to yourself, looking around before mouthing, ‘me?’ to which he mouthed, 'yes, idiot.’

you made your way towards him, eyes wide as everyone gasped. you weren't a royal, evident by the lack of jewelry adorning you.

“[name], it's always only been you. will you rule beside me?”

your eyes grew impossibly wider, pupils dilated to the max as a blush overtook your face. “..you're serious?”

“yes, i am.”

“i– is this even allowed?”

“my parents,” he gestured over to them, who sent polite smiles towards her. “they know about it, i sat down with them yesterday. i'm serious about this. i'm serious about you.”

“but what abou–”

“fuck everything else. this is about you and me.”

“do you accept, ms. [name]?” the bard asked, all eyes on you as, though you only looked into katsuki’s.

“if he'd have me, i'd be honored.”

he wordlessly asked you, and with a tilt of your head you prompted him to kiss you. though it was belated, the hall filled with cheers for the two of you.

“well,” the queen beckoned you two to her side, your hands intertwined as you stood in front of her. “this is surely a first, however.. it is undoubted that ms. [name] and her family have proved their loyalty and dedication to the kingdom.

therefore, we have no objection. masaru?”

“yes mitski.”

they both got up, the king wielding a sword as he stood next to you. katsuki helped guide you to the floor, he was on one knee as he was sworn in.

sworn in as king by your side.

the sword tapped his shoulders gently, a crown being brought out on a pillow and placed upon his head as you looked in awe, as an equally gorgeous one was placed unto yours.

“katsuki, i entrust our kingdom to you. with all of our people in the hands of you, and of course, your trusted wife.”

“i understand.” he said, bowing his head down to his father.

“[name].” the queen called to you, filling you with a sense of urgency. “yes my queen?”

she laughed, before taking a moment to whisper in your ear. “mitski is fine.” she cleared her throat, before continuing. “you will be a dedicated servant any longer, tomorrow you will wake up as the queen of our kingdom my dear. please, do your best to guide our king, and set the kingdom onto a path of prosperity.”

“thank you my– mitski. i will.” you bowed deeply, before you were helped up by katsuki once again.

you walked out the hall with katsuki at your side, the weight of the crown a shared experience between you two.

“‘suki.” the nickname lost to time finds itself back on your lips as you're led to his room, though this was the first time in years that it was out of familiarity, not work.

“[name].”

“thank you.”

“for what?”

“risking it all.. doing all that. it was.. indescribable.”

“.. it was worth it for you. i'd– i'd do anything for you. now we can make up for lost time. i really

missed you these last days.”

“i did too, god i was a wreck without you.”

“you wouldn't believe how bad i was without you.”

it seemed practiced, as if you'd done it a million times when he gestured for you to follow him to his bed. the way you melted into each other was unimaginable, not even the discomfort of your corset getting in the way of how he made you feel, though you'd gotten up to change.

now wearing house wear, clothes you'd never imagine you'd be wearing in his quarters, you laid next to him, the same moon shining brightly upon the two of you as he held you.

his head was on top of yours as you shared this wordless embrace, one that spoke thousands of words you'd need not to speak.

a kiss, one you'd both never though you'd get to share, especially not in his very own bed, was all that left the two of you as you settled into each other for the night.

you'd begun a servant and ended as queen, ranks though meant nothing to you, for your only wish was to stay eternally by his side.

a wish you both fought for.

tags: @gold24fish @nemisimp

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[mostlycompetentwriter]

Thunderous

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Bang Chan

Word Count: 11K

Genre: Werewolf AU! Royalty AU!

Warnings: There are some elements of non-con in this fanfic. Please don’t read if you don’t like those elements. Mentions of knotting and rough sex. There’s also a lot of explicit smut and language throughout.

Summary: The Wolf King’s name seared your heart. You had been chosen as the youngest and most expendable daughter to be his mate. But you were terrified of the legends surrounding his bloody campaigns. How were you going to survive?

Tag List: @armystay89 @captainchrisstan @starseekersworld @melsunshine @kibs-and-bits

The Wolf King’s name whispered through the trees and hummed between the villages like the ancient stories of the gods.

Some of the villagers claimed that he could transform—bones cracking and teeth elongating until there was no man left. They said his claws could cut through trees and that his howl silenced the instincts of the mountain lions who cowered in their dens. In place of human skin, fur sprouted thick and rough, darkening until it matched the color of the shadows.

The myth and lore had been passed down for years, and you found yourself on the receiving end of all those stories. As the Wolf King’s future mate, you had also become something of an enigma around the kingdom. People looked at you with a glint of respect, bowing their heads and moving out of your way whenever you made your rounds. 

The attention that you hated. Especially when the marriage had been arranged without your willing compliance. Young girl fantasies of handsome princes and distant lands vanquished in an instant. But even if you couldn’t indulge in happiness anymore, there had been a time when you allowed yourself to dream about your wedding. 

Bubbling colors of red and green—like your kingdom’s annual yuletide celebrations—and a long, flowing white gown extending across the floor like an elegant brush of paint. Pure as you had always been. There was beautiful music in your dream, and a gorgeous prince to take you into his arms and glide you across the floor like the clouds moving in the sky.

Fantasies, indeed.

Instead, of merriment and goodwill, you found yourself trembling from head to toe, holding tight to the sleeve of your handmaiden’s gown as she escorted you through the recital hall, down the aisle to where you recognized the Wolf King waiting.

You had only met him twice before. Once, when you had just turned twelve, on the day your families agreed to meet over the prospect of securing peace between your rival kingdoms.

When you were both little children, the Wolf King had no reputation. He was just a boy, and you greeted him with a smile—ignorant of the true purpose of your first meeting. While your parents talked about the future, you showed the Wolf King your favorite flowers, handing him individual stems while your mother bargained your life away:

“A union is our commitment to peace,” your mother had once proclaimed, reaching out to softly pat your curls. “We think they’ll do well together.”

“Yes.” But Chan’s mother didn’t seem convinced. She was an elegant and beautiful woman with long black hair and bright red eyes to match his defining features. “Chan will decide who he wants to marry,” his mother said.

“Y/N will make a good wife when she comes of age,” your mother insisted. “We’ll hire the best teachers to ensure that she is prepared for her duties.”

“That matters little to us,” Chan’s father spoke, and he regarded you like one might grimace at an annoying ant to step on.

You shied away from his intimidating stare, looking instead at Chan as he designed a flower crown for you, placing it on top of your head with a proud smile.

It was the last time he would ever show such kindness.

Over the years proceding your first meeting, Chan became a man, and his reputation for ruthlessness and fury ignited a storm of gossip. 

“The Wolf King stands taller than the gods!”

“The Wolf King slaughtered a village because they refused to bow down to him!”

“He’s a monster! Have mercy on us all!”

You became terrified at any mention of the Wolf King, wondering if your parents were still serious about a union. You found out the hard way when your mother invited the Wolf King and his generals to your kingdom. But you didn’t stick around for very long.

The next time you met, you were sixteen, and you ran away to the gardens in a rare show of rebellion against your parents who had expected you to dress pretty and show off for Chan.

But that wasn’t in your nature, and your instincts screamed at you to avoid the Wolf King. And you thought that you were alone in the forest. Surrounded by the quiet of the thick foliage. But then you heard the bushes move, and you noticed a large black head peering at you with piercing red eyes.

You relaxed when you realized that it was just a common wolf—probably one from the mountain packs, and you weren’t frightened. Animals had always held a special place in your heart, and you approached the wolf with palms upturned to show your peaceful intentions. The wolf never moved, and you stroked your fingers through the coarse fur on his head. 

You returned home that evening thinking your father would scold you for running off like that. But you were instead warmly greeted by your parents who were both ecstatic. “He agreed to marry you, Y/N!” your mother exclaimed. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

It wasn’t.

Not at all.

And you had never experienced real fear in your entire life. But walking down the aisle in the chapel to where the fearless Wolf King waited for you, there was a bone-chilling tremble aching down your spine.

“So beautiful,” you heard faint whispers join together, urging you closer and closer to the Wolf King who gazed at you with the most intense stare you had ever received.

When you were within earshot, the Wolf King snatched your hand from the poor handmaiden who had been helping you walk down the aisle.

The girl quickly jumped to the side, bowing her head as the Wolf King forced you to stand in front of him, reaching down for your other hand. You reluctantly gave it to him, still looking at everything except for the Wolf King’s eyes, even if the little growl he gave showed that he disapproved.

You could hear your mother’s chastising voice in your head, scolding you for not pleasing the King. But you didn’t care anymore. Wasn’t it enough that you were standing there, giving your life away to a monster?

In the distant background, you could hear the priest delivering his lines, and when it was your turn, you gave your vow of allegiance, even if the words fell hot like acid from your unwilling tongue.

Thankfully, the ceremony did not require you to kiss him, dodging his wayward lips when they fell too close to yours. 

There was a rush when the proceedings concluded, the firm ushering of hands leading you out of the chapel. You stumbled in your heels, bringing yourself inadvertently closer to the Wolf King who held tighter to your waist. You did not enjoy the closeness, swallowing down your nerves as you tried not to think about what came next.

The crowd eventually parted, giving you enough space to walk down the steps in the open air, briefly acknowledging the cheering crowd spread through the streets. There was a distinct awe in the noise from the people around you, clambering over one another to get a good like at yourself and the predator who would soon claim you for his own. Wanting to acquaint themselves with your kingdom’s bargaining chip—a small sacrifice to ensure an alliance between your people and the ones who fought under Chan’s domain.

On paper, it seemed like a worthy solution to helping your kingdom protect its borders and fight off invaders. The problem was that you felt the weight of pleasing a man you had no interest in—someone who frightened you to your core. A sick knot tightened in your guts and your stomach clenched tighter as Chan led you to Castle Miroh—the notorious landmark of his territory symbolizing the power of the ruling family.

As the main doors parted, you winced at the sensation of the cold and harsh air inside, and a shiver passed down your spine as you forced yourself to keep up with Chan’s incessant pace, footsteps clacking against marble. It was dark in the corridors, and the only lighting came from the flames ensconced along the walls, casting everything in shadows. Ahead in the distance, you could see the outline of a grand staircase, and your eyes worked tirelessly to mark each step on your darkened path.

It turned out that Chan kept his quarters on the highest floor, latching your fingers together the entire time, even as you forced down the bile permanently hitched at the back of your throat at the thought of all the blood that had stained those hands. 

At the top of the staircase, you were pulled to the left, marching down an impressive corridor with a soft, velvet carpet beneath your soles. Eventually, you found yourself in front of a large, wooden door, and Chan ushered you through the frame, a hand to your lower back as your eyes paused on the King-sized bed waiting beneath an unholy painting of a bloody battle scene.

You will present yourself to the Wolf King, you recalled the words of your tutor. He will expect obedience from his mate.

You blinked away tears, knowing what you were expected to do next, and deciding to push through your nerves before you lost the contents of your stomach on the floor. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to run, but you ignored your instincts, loosening the straps of your dress to allow it to pool into a mess on the floor at your feet, and kicking it aside as you eliminated the remaining distance to the bed. 

You didn’t want to show him that you were weak. That he had any sort of influence that might condemn you a coward. You could not be seen as pathetic in the eyes of a monster, crawling on hands and knees to the center of the bed, head ducked down between your trembling arms and waiting.

Your breath caught when the bed dipped beneath his weight, and you gritted your teeth, feeling his hands take your hips with a powerful grip, nails digging into the soft skin.

The Wolf King will fuck you, your tutor had said, Then he will bite you to complete the mating ritual.

You had seen the Wolf King’s teeth. Sharp like razors and pointed at the ends. You would be a bloody mess at the end of this, but no one could ever accuse you of shirking your responsibilities. You had done everything expected of you, holding on to this thought of solace as you waited for him to take his fill.

“Don’t,” he abruptly whispered, startling you as he laid down on the mattress at your side, closing his eyes and letting out a grumble, completely unbothered with his own nakedness. 

It must’ve happened while you were turned away, but it was still jarring to see so much pale skin on display, marred with jagged scars and scarlet bruises. Eyes trailing over the swell of his chest, over the ridges of his abs, and down to this impressive cock. 

You swallowed hard. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?”

“No,” Chan said, chest deflating. “You do not want that.”

His response surprised you, and you wanted nothing more than to hurriedly tuck the sheet around your body to hide you from him. “I thought you were meant to-”

“We are equals,” Chan interrupted with a much firmer tone. “And you are afraid.”

Equals? The word didn’t seem right coming from him, but you weren’t about to question what was seemingly amounting to an act of mercy. Quick as a flash, you had the sheet bundled against your chest, eyes wide as you looked him over. “The mating-”

“We can do the bite,” Chan continued as if he didn’t care that he wasn’t fulfilling the only purpose you had been given. “But in the morning. The celebrations earlier exhausted me. Such frivolous trivialities.”

“Won’t they notice-”

“Who are they?” Chan barked with a hint of a growl that had you flinching. “There is no one who orders the King around.”

His dark pupils met yours in the dark, searching for something. You swallowed hard, unsure what he was looking for, but focusing on the calming sensation of relief flooding your system at his unexpected mercy. “Thank you.”

He gave a curt nod, dipping his head to the space next to him. “Sleep.”

You obeyed, wondering if you could sleep next to him, even if he had shown you some degree of kindness. It still didn’t erase his bloody reputation, and it worried you to no end that you would be sleeping next to a killer. Born to fight his way to power and rule over his kind. 

You took a deep breath, holding tight to the sheet, and closing your eyes. Perhaps it was the roller coaster of emotions weighing down on you from the day’s events, but you did manage to find sleep, even if it was troubled. Nightmares of wolves following you through the woods, red irises piercing you from the shelter of the trees, and claws slicing through flesh. 

You gasped when your eyes sprung open against an onslaught of bright, morning light, heart palpitating in your chest when you met those same eyes looking down at you from above. Chan was a step ahead of you as if he could predict your movements, grabbing your hands in one of his own to hold them above your head. One of his powerful thighs slung across your lower body, holding you in place with a strength that ignited a fire of burning adrenaline. 

“Hold still,” he said, giving you no other warning before teeth sank into the side of your neck, and your body panicked, fighting against him. Like he might take a chunk out of your neck and leave you on the bed to bleed out. Crimson against the cream-colored sheets. 

Immediately, a pulsating shock erupted from the site of the wound, forcing a scream from between your lips at the overwhelming pain. “I know,” he said, and it was barely discernible over the sounds of your cries, unashamed to lose all inhibitions at the sensation of a pain you had never experienced before.

The Wolf King moved over top of you, and you flinched when you felt his tongue start to lap at the painful bite mark on your shoulder. “The pain will stop soon,” he said. “I’m sorry you have to suffer.”

You held back a whine, digging your nails into the soft flesh of your palms. You supposed he had helped the sting, but it still felt like a piece of glass was being sliced across your skin. Even if the guilt and remorse in his gaze were almost enough to distract you.

“Relax,” he soothed, releasing your hands which instinctively went to wipe at your eyes, drying the salty wetness that had accumulated. 

“I- I can’t...”

“You can because you are mine now,” he declared in a tone that had a different flame sparking in your chest. 

You nodded against the pain, focusing on taking deep breaths, and letting darkness take you under once more.

When you woke again, the King was ready for you. He explained that you were needed in the Throne Room to meet some important people. It turned out that the King had three brothers. They were all younger than him. Or so you had been told.

Their names were Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin. Feared and revered for their triumphs in battle.

Your Wolf King seemed proud to show them off, standing before you in an organized line: from oldest to youngest.

Felix reminded you of your own cousins, with his lithe figure, so much different from the King’s own bulk, and a head of flaming orange-red hair. 

Next to him, in the middle, stood Seungmin. Dressed in dark clothes that only made his already dark hair even more onyx-black. Bright green eyes appraising you slowly.

Finally, there was Jeongin. The tallest of the three. And sporting the same dark-colored hair as his middle brother. He seemed to be the most innocent, eyes wide with wonder.

“They are here to support you,” Chan went on after introductions had passed. “Call on them if you need any help.”

Unlikely, but you forced a nod nonetheless.

“You are dismissed,” Chan informed them after you gave your acquiescence, and you watched them retreat in the same formation down the hall.

In their stead approached a shorter man, dressed in full battle attire. Well-muscled to stretch the fabric of his shirt and pants, with serious dark eyes. “My King,” the man said, bowing once. “You are needed on the training fields.”

You flinched when the man’s eyes found your neck, likely noting the swollen mess that Chan had left behind. “I’ll be there shortly, Changbin,” Chan said, and he waited until the man was gone before looking at you. “The Castle is yours, my Queen. Feel free to look around and acquaint yourself with your new home.”

“I will,” you whispered, forcing yourself to stay still when he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

“Tonight, we can eat together,” came his parting words, and you grimaced at the idea of sharing a meal with him. 

But the concept of sharing a meal with him was nowhere near as horrible as the idea that this place could ever be considered your home. What a nasty thought! This place was nothing more than a prison forced upon you because your parents were desperate for Chan’s allegiance.

“Why did he agree?” you huffed to yourself, spinning on your heel to start the trek back to your room—as much as you could remember. “Leaving me here as if I know where anything is!”

For months leading up to your shared nuptials, you had pondered the reason why the powerful Wolf King had even agreed to marry you in the first place. Neither of your meetings had been particularly impactful, and your Kingdom had nothing to benefit his own; in fact, your alliance was more of a detriment to Chan and his people—a burden that he willingly took on.

You turned the corner to the last corridor, grateful that you had managed to retrace your steps, faltering when you noticed something on the floor outside of your door. You kneeled to retrieve it, glancing at the writing and noting with a happy hum that it was addressed from the Northern Highlands!

“Grace!” you exclaimed, clutching the envelope to your chest as you quickly rushed inside your room, glancing back to ensure the door was locked before hopping onto the bed to rip the contents open.

Dear Y/N,

Congratulations on your marriage to Bang Chan - it will be a strong alliance for our parents and their Kingdom. 

I apologize for my absence - Hyunjin was unable to make the accommodations.

As you know, snowfall comes to the Highlands in the upcoming months. It will soon be impossible for me to journey to you, or for you to make the journey here. I’d love to see you and your new husband before it is difficult to do so.

Please write to me when you can to arrange a visit.

Lovingly,

Grace

You read over the letter twice before releasing a deep sigh. Would your Wolf King even indulge in such a trip? Perhaps it wasn’t even necessary for him to go. You could make the trip on your own.

You held fast to that thought, of getting away from your prison even if only for a few days, as you lounged around in your room for the remainder of the day. There was little to entertain yourself with, re-reading Grace’s letter over and over again, and sitting outside on the little veranda attached to your room to watch the clouds moving in the sky.

It would be another mercy to escape Chan’s presence if you were to head North alone, but you were afraid that you were pushing your luck, wincing when you heard the door to your chambers opening again, returning inside from your observation of the grounds to greet Chan as you were expected to do.

“My queen,” he rumbled, reaching out to hold your shoulders between both hands, a grip that was impossible to mistake. “Were you able to see more of the Castle?”

“Yes,” you lied through clenched teeth, only breathing a little easier when he released you, eyes dropping to the letter in your hands.

“What is that?”

“It is from my sister,” you explained. 

“I see.”

“She wasn’t able to attend the wedding,” you went on, saving yourself a bit of time as you scrambled for the best way to drop the news to him. Maybe it would just be best to try a blunt approach, giving him your demands since he insisted on calling you an equal. “I wish to see my sister,” you said, refusing to meet his gaze. “Before it is too dangerous to make the trip to the Northern Highlands.”

Chan grunted at your request, and you weren’t well-versed in his language to know what that meant. “She invited you?”

“I can go alone,” you said. “If it is too much for you.”

“I would love to come with you,” he said, disregarding the determination in your tone. “It will give us more time to spend together on our own.”

“Oh.” Your gaze remained trained on the floor, hopes dashed that you could leave him behind. 

“It will be nice to visit there,” he said. “I will make the arrangements. You may write her back to expect us very soon.”

“As you wish,” you sighed, trying to keep the disappointment from your tone, flinching when he grabbed one of your wrists. He didn’t seem perturbed by your reaction, and you watched as he pulled a delicate piece of jewelry from his pocket.

“Well?” he smiled, something that made you shiver. “What do you think?”

“What is it?” you asked in return, resisting the urge to pull back the wrist clasped between his scarred fingers. Even if you did manage to finally meet his gaze.

“It is a gift for you,” Chan said with a smile you were not expecting—blinding and warm. “I made it myself.”

“You made this?”

“As our traditions dictate,” he agreed, keeping a firm hold on your wrist to clasp the little bracelet around your delicate flesh. “It is meant to show our bond to the world.”

You studied it curiously, noting the simple design and the small wolf-shaped carvings engraved in the metal. It was cold against your skin, even as the heat from his body balanced it out.

“Shall we eat?”

He dropped your wrist, and you were able to gather your bearings. “Of course.” You managed a nod, watching as he opened the door wide, allowing a small servant girl to enter the room.

The girl offered you both a respectful bow before she started to set the table, laying out silverware and fine china plates. Behind her, another girl rolled in a cart, wheels squealing on the floor, with prepared food steaming from beneath metal lids. 

“Here, sit with me,” Chan said, patting the space on the bed next to him. “Until they are ready.”

You obeyed, sitting down next to him. Your gaze remained trained on the servant girls, moving about in a well-rehearsed manner as if they had done this too many times to count. 

He reached for your hand, and you did your best not to flinch. “Look,” he whispered, urging you to follow his gaze. “This line on your hand, do you see the way it moves?”

You shivered as he traced the mark he referred to, following it up and down the length of your palm. “Yes,” you whispered, struck by the unexpected intimacy of the gesture.

Goosebumps followed the trail he left on your wrist, and you held your breath when he brought it to his lips. “The same as mine,” he said, almost reverently. Your eyes widened, breath hitching as he aligned your hands together. “A perfect match.”

You could hardly believe it, eyes searching back and forth, but seeing the same line digging into both of your skin. Like it belonged there. 

“There are reasons for everything,” he said, and you felt a small flicker of shame when you read his knowing gaze as if he could sense those dark thoughts that you sheltered about him—wondering why you out of everyone in the world had been chosen to stand at his side. “I wouldn’t question so much,” he continued. “The things that fall into place so perfectly.”

He offered you a wink, surprisingly playful for a man of his reputation. “Let’s eat.”

You nodded, the most you could, and followed him to the table. He was polite as always, allowing you to pick first, waiting until your first bite before claiming his own. You were content, at that moment, to answer the questions he threw your way, increasingly aware of the way the place he had touched warming and the mark on your neck drummed in a gentle pulse.

The rest of the evening passed uneventfully, and there was less trepidation in your soul when you lay with Chan to sleep. 

You journeyed to the Highlands the next morning, riding behind Chan on horseback, leaving the Wolves’ imposing Castle behind. There was a lightness about you as distance added more miles to your ride, growing brighter and brighter the further you traveled. Even with light conversation petering between you and Chan, you had never been freer in your entire life, the wind blowing back your hair as you soared across the plains.

Despite his repeated requests for you to take a break, you were determined to make it to your sister’s palace before nightfall. You wanted to see her outside, in the meadows that spread invitingly across the Highlands, and walk together just the two of you as you did as children.

There was excitement spiking hot adrenaline in your veins when the hills opened up in the distance, revealing a gorgeous mountain Castle with imposing towers and the familiar flags of your sister’s powerful family. She belonged to Hyunjin, taking his name and crest, and it made you sad to realize that there was a greater distance between you both. You loosened your grip on Chan’s waist, not realizing your grip on him.

You had grown tired of being around him, constantly blinded by the weight of his shadow. At least out here, with the sun beaming down from above, you could feel great relief from the pressure lightening. Perhaps there should be shame associated with your actions, but as soon as you could identify a familiar shape up ahead, you were already leaping from the horse despite Chan’s protests.

Thankfully, your sister was there to greet you, surrounded by two guards. Immediately, you jumped from your steed, falling into her arms and inhaling the familiar scent of her perfume. “Grace,” you squealed, keeping her held tight to you as if it would be the last time you could ever do so. 

“Y/N,” she sing-songed back, and you smiled at her playful attitude, only growing a little despondent when you detected Chan’s approach from behind.

“Hello,” she greeted Chan with a polite bow. “It is an honor to welcome you to the Northern Highlands.”

“Your palace is beautiful,” Chan complimented, and you shivered when he drew fingers down the length of your spine—a show of affection that you would never get used to experiencing.

“Thank you,” she said, turning around to gaze back at it as if she were seeing it for the first time. “It has centuries of history.”

“I have heard the tales,” Chan remarked. “From when I was a boy.”

You tried not to snort, not wanting to relive any memories of Chan from his boyhood. Grace’s careful eyes, however, seemed to detect something, and she looked at you with a curious gaze. “Well, I can show you to your quarters.”

“No need, I’m sure one of your guards will know the way. I think Y/N has been waiting for some time with you. I’ll leave you both alone,” he said, even without your prompting, and your sister gave you a familiar smile.

“As you wish,” she said with a little curtsy, beckoning a guard forward with stern orders to help the Wolf King settle in while you and Grace took a stroll of the grounds.

You held your breath, not wanting your impatience to show as the arrangements were made. Only once Chan had started in the direction of the Castle, guards following him closely, did you exhale. Reaching for Grace’s hand, and tugging her forward.

“No need to drag me!” Grace chuckled at your actions, and she linked your arms together, steering you toward the familiar meadows.

You both settled into easy conversation as it always seemed to happen, topics flowing from one to another. There was a lot to catch up on, things left unsaid from your sad exchange of letters. Rumors swirling around the highlands, and stories from your own homeland that you consumed greedily, excited for any mention of your little Kingdom.

Even if you didn’t really belong to it anymore.

You wanted to walk forever, to keep going beyond the highlands. Escaping to a distant land with just you and Grace. A place where you could both live in peace and go about your days just chatting and reading together by the fireplace as you did when you were children.

She laughed at your complaints, forcing you to return to the Castle when the sun had started to set. Thankfully, you didn’t go all the way inside just yet, and the two of you sat down at one of the picnic tables in the gardens. As you settled next to Grace, bowing politely to the maids who brought you both a cup of tea, you frowned as you recognized Chan between the hedges, strolling along with Hyunjin, Grace’s King, down the trodden paths between the mazes. 

You did your best to ignore him, focusing instead on the moment you had with your sister. The setting sun was warm as you reclined your head, eyes closed as you accepted the gracious touch—burning just as hot as your sister’s intense stare.

“Do you have something to say?” you huffed. “I can feel you looking at me.”

Her smile was clear in her tone. “You just seem...different.”

“How so?”

“Like you’ve been tamed.”

Your eyes flew open at the comment, glaring at her. “Stuck in an arranged marriage, you mean?”

“Mine was arranged as well, but you can rest assured that I don’t take the same comfort from my particular suitor.”

“I hardly take comfort from the Wolf King,” you argued, but Grace simply shrugged.

“You’ve never seen things as I do.”

“What’s so bad about Hyunjin anyway?” you asked instead, to direct the conversation away from Chan,

Her smile curdled. “He keeps busy with his whores,” she said, shocking you with such an accusation.

“Grace-”

“Don’t.” Your sister sighed. “There’s nothing you can do.”

She attempted to restore her previous smile, looking back over your shoulder with a sigh. “I like your Wolf King,” she eventually said. “He cares about you a lot. I haven’t seen him take his eyes away from you once.”

Grace must be imagining things. “He’s tolerable at best,” you decided, earning yourself a sigh from your sister.

“My how your perspective has changed,” she remarked, finally turning her attention to the lukewarm tea in front of her. “You were kicking and screaming when you first learned of the marriage.”

“It is something that was forced on me!”

“But you’re not the only one, Y/N,” Grace said with a tone filled with sadness.

Suddenly, you felt chastened and guilty for even protesting her. “For us both, it has created nothing but discomfort.”

“I think there is potential in your match,” Grace argued. “You resist because you are stubborn in nature, but I think there could be good things for you if you just tried to make it work. Wouldn’t it be better, sister, to live with him as lovers than as cold strangers?”

“He is too wild for marriage,” you weakly protested. But your argument held no merit, and you hated the logic in her words, turning away to glare into the distance.

Night passed before your eyes, like the dimmest flicker, and you had never been more unhappy to greet the rising sun. 

It seemed that all good things inevitably came to an end, and you were holding back tears when you parted from Grace the next morning, holding the embrace for far too long. Even as you allowed Chan to help you back onto the horse, positioned directly behind him on the saddle, you kept your gaze trained behind you, watching Grace grow smaller and smaller.

Until she was gone.

Your heart was heavy when you returned to Chan’s castle that same afternoon, but your foul mood didn’t last for long. Distracted as you were, surprised by the bustling activities throughout the grounds, everyone scrambling for something you couldn’t identify. “Our moon festival,” Chan explained. “We will be shifting tonight.”

Oh, right. You had forgotten about that part, too distraught reminiscing on your brief moment of freedom with Grace. “I almost forgot.”

“There will be a feast tonight,” he explained. “We will both join as King and Queen.”

You scowled at the idea. “As you wish.”

Chan frowned at the comment. “You must be tired from the journey,” he continued, choosing not to react to your passive comment. “Feel free to rest in our quarters. I will come get you later.”

You agreed with a half-hearted grunt of acknowledgment. Sleep did sound like a much-needed relief from the exhaustion threatening each unsteady step you took up the stairs. It was what you blamed your disorientation on, barely noticing when Chan leaned in to give you a chaste kiss on your cheek.

That same spot burned under the barely-there attention. But you chose to ignore it, instead focusing on how your feet were throbbing when you landed on top of your bed with a huff, allowing tears to escape as you gave yourself a moment to purge the nasty emotions that had built after leaving the Highlands. Unable to do so as you rode behind Chan.

There were too many different emotions piled on throughout the day, mixing with a heady combination of your exhaustion from traveling. Countless thoughts also swirled through your head, and it was inevitable that you would fall under, losing yourself to the easy promise of sleep. An easier task than grappling with your conflicted feelings. 

Darkness greeted you like an old friend, and your dreams were wild. One moment you were back with Grace, strolling through the meadows. The next, you found yourself in an empty forest, shadows chasing each breath evaporating on cold air, ensnared by a pair of red eyes in the thick foliage.

You stumbled on the undergrowth, falling backward ungracefully. You only had the wherewithal to put a hand over your face, trying to block everything out, as those eyes descended on you. Fear caught in your throat, and it was the lasting image that haunted you as you jerked upright in bed, barely withholding a scream when those same eyes met you in the real world.

“Y/N.”

Chan’s voice was deep, guttural in its intensity, and filled with concern. You flinched when fingers came out to gently remove sweaty bangs from your eyes, heart thunderous inside your chest. His hand paused in its motions, and for a fleeting second, you thought you might drown in his stare.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “Bad dreams.”

“I see.”

There was a question in his tone, but you didn’t know how to provide an answer, choosing instead to gently push his hand away. ���It’s nothing to worry about.”

He nodded, lower lip caught between his teeth. “If you’re certain...”

You studied him for a moment, wishing that you could confide in him. But there was still a great distance between you, perhaps put there by your own accord, but heavy in its existence. “I shall get ready.”

Chan allowed you the space, agreeing to meet you in the hallway as you rose to get dressed, finding the dress that had been laid out for you by the maids. You slipped the fabric over your body, shivering as the silkiness slid across your skin like a lover’s caress.

True to his word, Chan was waiting patiently on the other side of the door, and you hesitated before taking the outstretched hand offered to you. Unprepared for when it pulled you in closer, under the scrutiny of his affectionate gaze. “Beautiful,” he declared, nostrils flaring as if taking in the scent of the perfume you sprayed. 

“Thank you,” you offered in return, choosing to keep silent as he led the way, helping you down the stairs in your heels. 

For once, you willingly stayed close to Chan, especially as you approached the Great Hall where the festivities would take place. Chan led you into the dining room, perhaps a bit too hastily, uneasy with the weight of his people’s stares boring down upon your figure. Dressed simply in that white gown—pure, as you had always remained—and looking entirely out of place amongst battle-hardened soldiers. 

You caught Changbin’s stare from across the room as you sat at the head of the table next to the King. There was lust in his gaze. And it deeply unsettled you, to the point that even Chan caught your shiver.

He followed your gaze to Changbin who looked away at once. “Tradition says that the King can share his mate,” Chan whispered. “But I will not share you with him. So he can only look.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. So you didn’t say anything in return. “I didn’t know.”

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Chan stood, addressing the room. “Let’s feast together, comrades! We run together at the moon’s highest cycle!”

A chorus of cheers and howls greeted his words, and everyone started to fill their plates, easy conversation flowing between the wolves like the smell of the delicious-looking platters laid out before you. Still, your stomach revolted, swimming in circles as you picked at the helping Chan had served you. You wrinkled your nose when his grease-stained fingers brought a piece of chicken to your lips, and you forced yourself to take it from him. 

Chan sighed as you chewed, forcing the morsel down your throat as it stung. “I won’t be with you tonight, of course. We will likely stay out in the moonlight until dawn. But I will return in the morning.”

“Okay.” You shrugged, seemingly indifferent. Some time to yourself seemed nice. And you weren’t keen on being outside when they were no longer human. 

“You don’t have to be miserable here, my Queen,” Chan suddenly said, tone taking on a hardened edge. Perhaps the first time he had ever sounded stern with you. “Wolves mate for life, and they choose their partners seriously”

You contemplated his words, chosen ever so carefully. “I - I will try,” you managed, recalling Grace’s advice from the previous day.

To live as lovers rather than strangers. 

He hummed at your agreement, eyes glued to your form as he appraised you with something akin to curiosity. “Don’t roam so far from the castle tonight. It isn’t dangerous, but it is your first time. Of course, there’s usually nothing to fear in the gardens.”

There was a layered hint in his words, but you chose not to think about it too much, simply nodding your head as you resumed your task of picking at your food. There was nothing wrong with the offering in front of you, but your newfound uneasiness mixed with your emotional charge from earlier—it had not yet completely dispelled itself from your system—left an unpleasant ache in your chest.

As if something was missing…

Later that night, long after the wolves left the castle, you realized you couldn’t sleep even if you tried, listening to the chorus of howls from outside the castle walls. They rang through the night, loud and clear, and harmonized with one another as if perfectly in sync. Perhaps they were since Chan and his wolves shared a tight bond, and you wondered what it must be like to be so perfectly in tune with one another.

It was these thoughts that plagued you, and even as midnight came and went, you grew more restless. You resolved to walk through the castle, to quell your thoughts and ease your mind. Even as your footsteps echoed through the halls, you found yourself becoming more awake instead of the opposite effect.

Fresh air would be nice, you thought until you remembered the wolves outside. But then again, Chan did promise you that the gardens would be safe. You could trust him, right? Or was that the problem? Your lack of trust in someone meant to be your partner. 

You resolved yourself in that moment to try. And if that meant venturing out into the gardens, then no one could accuse you of being silent and passive. This was your attempt at trying, and if it ended badly, then you would have all the more leverage to ignore him.

However, despite your attempts to steel your resolve, you found your heart beating impossibly fast when you greeted the moonlight outside. Each lungful of air that you forced down your lungs felt like sharp knives attacking your flesh. Gaze swimming in front of you, footsteps unsteady as you entered the hedge maze surrounding the gardens.

You inhaled deeply, trying to find comfort in the familiar smell of the foliage. There was a strange air of peace surrounding you, and that was all the solace you needed to keep going, admiring the way the colors of the blooming flowers bled in a different light. It was easy to grow distracted by the sight, as beautiful as it was, and perhaps you could blame your wandering eye for failing to adequately identify the rustling of something large in the undergrowth of the forest. 

You hummed to yourself, leaning down to run your fingers over the soft petals of a rose. Its usual red was subdued somehow, under the moon’s glow, and you smiled at the effect, completely ignorant of a different red seeping through the hedges near your right.

It wasn’t until a gentle whimper sounded that you jerked to a stop, hand fluttering to cover your chest as you whipped around to locate the source of the sound. And what stood before you, as powerful as the looming mountains above the castle, nearly had you falling to your knees.

Except, you realized upon a second cursory glance, that there was something uncannily familiar about the beast in front of you, and it only took you another moment to make the connection. A gasp fell from your lips when you realized that it was the wolf from your childhood—the one you had found that day Chan visited your home for the second time. The one you played with in the gardens. The one you spent time with just talking and believing it was nothing more than a common wolf.

You stumbled then, recognizing the now familiar crimson eyes looking back at you—the same ones that belonged to your husband. The wolf, your Wolf King, butted his giant head against your outstretched hand, giving an affectionate lick to your fingertips.

“I understand,” you whispered, unable to decipher the emotion in your voice, but one thing that you knew for certain—there was a clear absence of fear. Because you had never feared this wolf, always approaching it with happiness, completely ignorant of its true state. 

The wolf gave you a meaningful look, and you were struck by the humanness of the gesture. Understanding dawned on you—Chan had always known. He had always known it was you—the one his wolf had chosen. The girl who had never shown fear to a beast that others considered a monster. 

You had known Chan for your entire life without even realizing it, and your eyes welled with tears, watching him toss back his head and release a spine-curdling howl. One that was joined by a chorus of beautiful melodic cries, merging and joining together, and reaching down to your very bones.

You dropped to your knees then—a mere speck before the Wolf. You cried without fear, and this time, the tension between you and your King vanished like the stars in the night sky when dawn cracked across the horizon.

Three Months Later

On most mornings, Chan was gone before you woke up, and that left you with a disconcerting feeling of disappointment. You supposed there was much to do for the King of the Castle, but lately, it made you ache for something you couldn’t quite discern.

For the past several months, you found yourself opening up to the Wolf King in ways you would’ve never imagined. The truth of who he was, the Wolf from your childhood, along with Grace’s well-intentioned advice, had managed to crack through the stoic guard you had raised from the moment you bound yourself to him.

He taught you about the bond—how, even if you weren’t a Wolf and couldn’t experience the same emotions, he could feel each flicker of happiness or stroke of sadness as it moved through you. 

You had not known of this connection before—because of your stubborn nature—and you would always regret resisting it. But things were better, and you could see the beauty in the bond and how truly spectacular it was to feel and understand another person so intimately. It made you wonder—for longer and longer periods of time—just how deep you could make that bond.

Curiosity weighed heavy on you, and your eyes cracked open at a gentle knocking on the door—an opportunity presenting itself when you recognized a familiar servant girl entering your room. “Good morning, Y/N,” she said, and you nodded in return.

At first, you had kept yourself closed off to the other maids, but this one in particular, Ivy, had been insistent. It was hard to deny her, especially when she became your best teacher, indulging you in learning everything related to the wolves and their way of life.

She was also quite willing and open to help you with anything, even if it involved the more intimate parts of your relationship with the Wolf King. You brought it up again that morning, growing more and more confident, especially since Ivy was completely shameless when it came to that sort of thing.

“I thought about your words from the other night,” you opened the conversation, watching as she put your breakfast down onto the table.

“You’ll have to remind me.” There was a teasing note in her tone, and you glowered at the playful look she shot in your direction.

“We spoke about the King,” you said. “You told me things…what I can do to please him.”

“I remember.” She took a step closer, and you were wary of the look in her eyes. “Does he not fuck you well?” Ivy asked, and her tone was absent of the same filter that would stop your tongue.

Still, you were embarrassed, looking down at your feet, wondering how to disguise the truth. “It doesn’t feel good when it seems like he just uses me to get himself off.”

That much was true as you had heard Chan masturbating next to you on countless nights, and your name often fell free from his lips.

“I see.” Ivy nodded. “He doesn’t know better. He was taught that a good alpha fucks his mate and makes sure that she is pregnant for him.”

You winced at her blunt explanation. “Is that all...wolves need?”

“Not necessarily,” Ivy said with a bright smile. “I can teach you...if you want.”

“Teach me?” you asked, gasping when Ivy placed a hand on your chest, forcing you to fall back on the bed.

She was all smiles when she crawled into your lap, grabbing your hands and securing them to her waist. You gasped when she started rocking her hips into your own, feeling the pleasant ache resonate up and down your spine. “The most important lesson of them all,” Ivy said with a twinkle of mischief in her eye. “The art of seduction.”

“I - Ivy...”

“Tell me, Y/N,” Ivy interrupted your ramblings, leaning down so that the tips of your noses brushed together. “Would you like that? Seducing your wolf? Driving him to the point where he can’t resist taking you?”

You moaned around your response. “Yes! Please show me.”

Her hips rocked harder into yours, and you could see white forming at the edges of your vision. “Leave it to me.”

And you did, surrendering to her touches, and the wicked way she showed you all the ways to drive a King mad. 

The following night, you bravely waited for your Wolf King to return from patrol, wearing nothing but a sheer robe that left little to the imagination. Sitting on the edge of your shared bed, you caught each breath as it rattled between your lungs. Nervousness eating away at your resolve and leaving the poor skin around your cuticles abused by your touch. 

Ivy’s advice rang clear in your mind as if she were there with you, holding your hands between her own as she taught you how to please the King. You blushed at the memory, hands covering the bare skin beneath your robe, caressing the delicate flesh as she had done the night before. Demonstrating to you the best ways to please a man, and to make him beg for you. 

That kind of power held its curious appeal, and you thought about it constantly. Wondering what it would be like to make Chan lose his mind to the sin of your smell and touch. You could hardly wait, bouncing your leg and jostling the flimsy material of your coverings. 

Thankfully, your Wolf King didn’t make you wait for very long, punctual as always in these recent times of peace in joining you during the evenings. The easy smile he always offered you vanished as soon as he closed the door behind him, eyes locked on your figure clad in so very little.

“Be assertive.” You recalled Ivy’s words, and you stood on shaky legs to take a few tentative steps towards him. The implication was not lost in translation. You could barely get out a greeting before Chan was on you in seconds, gently pushing you back against the wall. He pressed his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, initiating the first indulgent kiss that lit a fire that you felt down to the tips of your toes.

“Then have me,” you said against the purse of his mouth, tongue tracing that full bottom lip. His gaze widened perceptibly, holding you at arm's length.

“What do you mean?”

“Take me the way you want,” you replied. “I’m ready. You love me, don’t you?”

The intensity in that gaze you had started to yearn for burned even brighter. “You know that I love you Y/N, and I understand why it would be hard for you to believe. I’m more than willing to take this chance to show you.”

He pulled away despite the tight grip you kept on his powerful bicep. Even so, you kept your eyes open as wide as possible to enjoy the scene playing out in front of you when he kissed you again. You curled your fingers into his thick black hair, remembering Ivy’s advice, and pulled his mouth against yours, crushing your lips to his. Chan’s chest rumbled as he kissed you fiercely in return, grabbing onto your arms as his tongue plundered the hot cavern of your mouth.   

Your lungs screamed in protest, and you pulled away suddenly, shivering at his resounding whimper. You opened your eyes, keeping your hands in his hair to hold it back from his crimson orbs. You found the lust there, making his eyes appear darker.  “It’s so hard for me to do this,” you said softly. “I- I want to please you…”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Chan replied. He pressed his hips into yours and you felt something hard against your stomach. “Y/N,” Chan murmured, leaning into your neck to inhale deeply. “I want you more than anything else.”

You shivered as you felt his other hand come to the sleeve of your gown, slowly sliding it down your shoulder. His fingertips slid across your skin, weakening your resolve. His lips followed his touch, peppering soft kisses along the exposed skin. He tugged on the fabric more and you felt the fabric at your right breast start to fall, slowly exposing the flesh to him. His blazing eyes looked down at what he had uncovered, as his hand moved up to hold your breast in his palm. You moaned when his thumb started to rub against your nipple, growing alarmed at the sudden ache between your legs. Like before, his lips soon replaced his fingers and you cried out when he gently nipped the sensitive skin.  

He suddenly tugged the fabric back up, releasing your wrists so that he could have both hands when he grabbed the sides of your robe and tugged it aside to reveal your bare skin to him. Your hands fell to your sides as your chest heaved up and down to match each of your panting breaths. Clad in the lingerie Ivy had helped you pick out the previous night. 

Chan’s eyes were glued to your bare torso. With a moan of his own, he pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he trailed his mouth down, over the soft skin of your throat, down your chest, and between the valley of your breasts, over your smooth stomach down to the top of your lace panties. Looking up at you with hungry, lust-filled eyes, Chan started to tug the fabric down your legs.

Clenching your fists against the wall, you couldn’t begin to describe what you felt when he pressed a kiss against the front of your panties, holding your thighs in his strong hands. Standing back up to his full height, he pulled his shirt off next, tossing it onto the floor. You breathed out deeply as your eyes greedily took in the sight of his muscled torso. Timidly, you reached out a hand, aware of his eyes watching your movements as you hovered your palm over his firm abdomen. “Touch him with your fingertips,” Ivy’s words whispered against your ear. He groaned, bracing his arms on either side of you, moving his head against the wall next to your ear. You heard Chan’s husky voice whisper: “Baby, please touch me.”

Your eyes fluttered at his request, and you placed both palms on his hard stomach, moving them up and feeling the muscles tense beneath your touch. Your hands danced across his pectorals, rising along with the muscles. You moved your palms over his shoulders and then back down, pausing when you hit the top of his pants. Before you could muster up the courage to move any lower, Chan’s lips were back on yours, kissing you senseless. You wrapped your arms around his neck, working your mouth against his, feeling your lips become swollen from his kisses. As your tongues touched, you felt Chan’s hands return to your thighs, lifting them so that you had no choice but to wrap your legs around his trim waist. Holding you against him, he carried you into over to the bed to deposit you on top. You missed his warmth as soon as he was gone and opened your eyes to meet his black gaze.

This was your chance. You remembered Ivy’s words and scrambled to get in position. Present. The command burned its way through your whole being as if you had no control over it. Instead, you turned on your hands and knees, arching your back and keeping your ass held high in the air.

You had never done this before, and you felt so exposed, but at the same time so good, so right, and you restrained yourself from trying to cover up against the shameless crimson stare watching you.

Suddenly, all went quiet, prompting you to glance over your shoulder. The Wolf King was staring at your ass, his mouth slightly agape. “Good girl,” was all you heard before Chan dove down abruptly to taste your dripping cunt, dragging his tongue all the way up to the source of the wetness leaking from you with a single, hot swipe, before latching on and sucking eagerly at the sensitive skin around your opening. 

You keened at the sensation and shivered at his satisfied grunts and moans as he took his fill of your taste. It made you want to please him. To do whatever it took to make him completely lose his mind.

“Chan!” You moaned out, reaching beneath him to flick at your neglected clit. “More!” 

Your demand did not go unanswered. With a grunt, Chan yanked your ass up higher for a better angle, digging his hands into the plush flesh of your hips. His touch was rough, and strong, undoubtedly leaving marks behind, but you absolutely loved it. And when the wiggling muscle of his tongue finally pushed inside, you cried out in absolute bliss and pleasure. Time itself seemed to slow down as that tongue relentlessly moved inside you, searching for that spot that could make you see stars and, once found, pressing down hard. Again and again, Chan dipped inside with his tongue, and each time you moaned for him. It didn’t take you long until your body tensed and shuddered, squeezing around the intrusion as you rode out your orgasm. 

With a satisfied groan, Chan released your hips, and you collapsed on your stomach, still aching for him.

You attempted to look back at Chan, groaning when you realized he was pushing down his pants and underwear, freeing his stiffening cock before crawling back over you. You were met with a flurry of kisses, on your lips, your cheeks, and your neck, before his tongue trailed lazily over your chest and down to the delicate curls damp from your release. 

You squirmed under him as he held himself up on his arms, dragging his eyes unbearably slow from your face and down to your toes. He moved one finger down over your stomach, and you watched it enter the forest of blonde curls around your center. Panting, and nearing combustion, you found yourself instinctively thrusting your hips up, begging him for more than just touches. Growling, he practically shoved your hips back to the bed, reaching down and jerking his thick cock with rough strokes. He abruptly flipped you over onto your back, craning his neck to look down into your eyes. “Let me make love to you, Y/N.”

His words sent a flurry of heat straight to your core. You had never had sex before, but you wanted it desperately. You told him as much and could see him visibly shaking. “I’ll go slow,” he promised, kissing your lips tenderly, before reaching down to line himself up at your entrance. You closed your eyes and winced as he pushed into you. Pliant and soft from his earlier ministrations, the bulbous head found little resistance as it breached your cunt.

You could feel his face bury itself into your shoulder, his knuckles turning white as they gripped the bedding, as if it was taking everything he had to go this slow. Once he was buried inside of you completely, you groaned, adjusting to the sudden intrusion. You could feel him still above you, and his teeth teased the skin at your shoulder. “Son of a bitch,” he growled. “It’s taking every ounce of control I have not to flip you over and fuck you senseless.”

His words, as crude as they were, only served to heighten your arousal. “Move,” you said, grabbing his black hair and pulling his face to yours. You kissed him quickly. “I’m fine.”

He needed no further encouragement, as he slowly pulled out before pushing back in. You could see the sweat breaking out across his forehead from the exertion, causing strands of his hair to stick to his forehead. His right hand moved behind you to grip the headboard as his hips slowly rocked against your own. As good as it felt, you could see he was about to lose it. “Faster,” you told him, and he complied, speeding up his thrusts and allowing some of the tension to escape his body. It was a little painful, especially when he let out a low growl and really started grinding his hips.

You could feel it building inside, the pleasure of his rough movements far outweighing the discomfort. You let out another moan as he moved in and out, feeling the smooth friction all the way to the tips of your toes. The Wolf King chose this moment to draw his hips back, dragging his length out to the tip, before slamming it back inside with a powerful thrust, rocking your body to the point that you felt your vision turn white for a moment. Without giving you time to recover, Chan repeated the motion over and over again, speeding up and adjusting the angle to relentlessly hit deep inside, hips bumping your clit with every smooth grind.

He grunted from his efforts, one hand on the headboard while the other came to grab your breast, his lips sucking at your neck. For your part, you arched your back against him, allowing your hips to come up a little to meet his movements as he hit even deeper inside of you, just barely kissing your cervix. Your fingernails scraped down the smooth skin of his back at this new angle. He moaned when your nails dug into his flesh, bringing his lips up to yours and you kissed him feverishly, tasting him like your life depended on it. One of your hands curled into his smooth black hair while the other gripped his bicep tightly, sighing happily as you felt the muscles move.  

You wrapped your legs around his waist, trying to not feel overwhelmed by all of the things he was making you feel. Buried deep inside of you, you could feel him hit all the right spots, sending waves of pleasure to your tight center. Meanwhile, his lips were working magic against yours, leaving you breathless.  

You could feel an intimate warmth building inside of you the longer he snapped his hips against yours. Groaning, you let out a cry as you felt something inside of you break open, releasing wave after wave of heat through your core, leaving your body drowning in pleasure.  

There was a haze of lightheadedness clogging your senses, and you almost didn’t even realize the swell pushing against your ass, until it breached your core. “Chan!” you hissed at the combination of pain and overwhelming pressure, retreating and then swelling again as he ground that hot mass against you.

“My knot,” he groaned, and you could feel the heat from his chest against your breasts as he pressed even closer. 

You vaguely recalled Ivy warning you about this, telling you that it would be hard to prepare for the massive instrution. You felt a spike of fear as it stretched you even further, and you worried that your virgin body would suffer. All you could do was grit your teeth and bury your head into the blankets beneath you, feeling the swell of his knot pressed against the cleft of your ass. You fisted the sheets between your hands. He would split you in half, and then you would be nothing.

“Y/N!” he growled, slowing his hips to a timid roll as his knot locked between you both, and your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt his release flood your insides, filling you to the point that your lower stomach had started to swell from his cum. 

He groaned as you both came down from your highs, and you gently petted your finger through his unruly curls. He experimentally rolled his hips to test how firmly the knot was locking him inside and it wouldn’t budge. Your cunt squeezed the knot, eliciting another grunt from Chan, another twitch, and another spurt of hot cum inside of you.

The pop didn’t swell until Chan was fully seated, his thick cock barely able to seat itself fully between your pulsating walls. It was a painful stretch, of course, but you were hardly focused on it.

Chan continued to hump against you, long after his release and teetering on the cusp of oversensitivity, but those seductive hips had lost their rhythm. It was only moments later, as Chan pulled away from your lips and buried his face into your chest, that he growled when something warm filled your center. You let your hand wander down his spine, stroking along the individuals knots. You could feel him breathing hard above you, and you tried to soothe him back to normal.

You were locked together for a long time, and you were almost asleep when Chan was finally able to pull out, collapsing onto the mattress next to you, looking up at the ceiling. You watched as his chest rose and fell quickly until you could barely see it move at all, signifying his return from his high. Your own breaths came out much shorter, and you were aware of the sweat that coated your skin. 

You watched as Chan ran his hand through his dark hair, moving it out of his face. Looking over at you, he turned on his side and used one hand to bring you closer to him, wrapping an arm around your waist. You hummed in delight as your chests pressed together, moving in sync with each other. Chan’s eyes scanned over your face as he leaned in and kissed your forehead. “I love you Y/N,” he said. voice rumbling. “I’ll do whatever it takes to prove it to you.”

You were barely coherent, collapsed against the sheets with a line of drool pooling out from your mouth. Closing your eyes, you let your head fall against his chest, savoring his warmth.  “I trust you,” you said softly, and you could feel him sigh in relief. Simply holding you against him, surrounded by his warmth, you suddenly felt very much like you belonged.

“You and I have always been destined,” Chan whispered, and for the first time since you had taken your place as his Wolf Queen, you weren’t afraid.

Instead, you were irrevocably alive.

[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Long ago, you were cursed to one day sleep for an eternity—unless you’re presented with true love. You thought destiny couldn’t find you on the high seas, but when you're sorely mistaken, it's up to a certain swordsman to get his act together and rescue you from eternal sleep.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: zoro x princess!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.4k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: tw blood, sleeping beauty au, meddling faeries here and there, stubborn swordsmen and lovelorn princesses, no use of Y/N, light angst, major fluff

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: falling - timothy cole

𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝔒𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔞 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢,

a very many years ago, twelve Wise Women from the Isle of Perminion—faeries was a more precise term, but they felt the label struck too much fear into their mortal fellows, and in this economy, faeries need willing clientele—were invited to the presentation of a young princess from an old kingdom. Each bestowed upon her gifts coveted by all. Beauty, grace, love, and the like. 

It was the thirteenth Wise Woman who took it all back.

“You dare not invite me to this celebration of life? Fine. Forget me. But not before I give the princess my own gift. She’ll grow beautiful, wise, and loved, as my fellow Wise Women decreed—but one day she’ll lose all that to the prick of a spinning wheel and fall dead to my power!”

Your life had just begun, and had already gone to shit (forgive such undignified language, unfit for a princess, but really, you felt you deserved some leeway).

The whole of the kingdom knew the witch’s speech by heart, saying a prayer each night in the hope that their princess would be fortunate enough to never cross a spinning wheel in all her life. And from the rail of her tower’s terrace, the princess dreamed of someday joining them. Not in their prayers, but in celebration that even the worst curses are no match for the blessed princess of their kingdom. Blessed, as she once was, before the outrage of Carabose found her.

But that was only the dream of a foolish child.

Foolish dreams. You were cursed not only in the very literal sense but also by the paranoia of your parents, the king and queen of your revered nation. Not a soul outside the castle walls had seen their princess since the day of her introduction—the day you were cursed to one day cross the spindle of a spinning wheel, and die.

Well, not die. Your godmother, Rosalie—the twelfth Wise Woman and the only one that mattered in your opinion—had gifted you a chance at survival. 

“The princess will not die upon pricking the spinning wheel. She shall only sleep till… till she receives a display of true, compassionate, unbridled love.”

It was the first thing Rosalie could think of that would lessen the blow of the witch’s spell. 

And yet despite this security, your parents locked you away, terrified of what would happen to their little princess should she cross that fated hunk of wood. Honestly, it was beyond embarrassing being destined to be bested by a hunk of wood, but that’s just your luck, you supposed.

It was also just your luck that one day when you’d just barely given up all hope of living a fulfilling life, a certain crew of pirates found your kingdom, caused the uproar of the century, and managed to help you escape all in just two days. 

With the wind in your face some months later, it seemed all your dreams of grandeur were coming true; far away from your castle, you sailed the seas with real friends at your side. You never worried about your curse, for why would you ever find a spinning wheel at sea? It was silly to fear the fate set before you. 

Rosalie always told you that destiny cannot be fought, but look at you now, proving her wrong. 

(It’s like you were asking for things to go wrong).

The day was windy and bright, with sparse clouds high above and cool grass underfoot. The Going Merry rest at the docks of the little coastal city, Usopp making repairs in record time. You couldn’t help but wish to go out and explore, taking full advantage of your freedom.

You took Zoro with you, of course. You’d never leave the ship without your loyal guard at your side. 

Zoro. What to say about Zoro? In your opinion, he was probably the love of your life, if he ever got over himself and admitted he loved you too. Either way, you would never picture life without him by your side, even if he brushed off all your teasing advances with a roll of his eyes.

“Here,” you motioned him to your side, feeling warm inside with the familiar bump of his shoulder against yours. You picked up one of the ornate golden rings displayed at the market stall before you, grinning like a devil as you lifted your hand to measure it up against your skin. “What do you think? I prefer silver, but gold would match your earrings.”

Zoro, lovely and clueless Zoro, only tilted his head, aforementioned earrings chiming against one another. “I think it's nice, but why d’ya wanna match?”

By the time you slipped the ring on your fourth finger, he saw where this was going. “Hmm, no reason.” You handed the ring back to the seller and smiled up at Zoro’s perturbed, blushing face. 

“Sorry, you’re just so easy to tease.” He grunted in reply, drawing another smile out of you. Your eyes got all misty, like they always did when you looked at Zoro, and the words escaped your lips before you could stop them. “Go out with me.”

Zoro kept his gaze firmly on the sky, his shoulders far too stiff to be comfortable. “We’re… too busy for stuff like that.”

It all felt like a mildly disappointing routine at this point; you asked, he dodged around giving you an explicit no. Perhaps if he actually got the nerve to deny you, you’d have given up, but Zoro always left you with that small hope that one day his answer might change.

Still, something in you held the strong consideration to give up. Lovelorn and yet hopelessly deep, it was a tempting option. Surely, pursuing someone so adamantly disinterested was a lost cause. But what if, you dared to call back, silencing your doubts.

“C’mon,” you relented. “I need some new fabrics.”

You scooped up his hand and he let you drag him down the street to a little boutique on the corner. The door rang when you entered, and Zoro tried to ignore how your hand still clung to his even as the door clicked shut behind you.

“I wanted to make Nami a new dress,” you said as you beelined for the shelf of various fabrics. “You know, to make up for the one I ripped.”

He didn’t try to pull back, only standing at your side as you skimmed your free hand over a set of pinks. “Still don’t get how you ruined it that badly. It was practically in two pieces.”

“You were there. I was in a tree.”

“But why?”

Your silly smile rose to meet his gentle grin. “Because I wanted to? You could have joined me, but no, you stayed all alone on the ground like a loser.”

“If I was in the tree, who would catch ya’ when you fell like an idiot?”

With a scoff, you let go of his hand and picked up some pink and blue fabric, failing to see him watch you longingly. “Touche.”

Zoro was never sure what to make of you—you were like nothing he’d ever faced before. The day you waltzed into his life and started up your little flirtation game was the day Zoro found his most formidable opponent in the love you shared so willingly.

There was your habit of getting into trouble too—trouble he often dragged you out of—which didn’t help much either.

Zoro thought princesses were meant to be graceful and poised, as Vivi was, but you toppled those expectations at the very foundation. At this point, it wasn’t really a question of if he returned your feelings, but if he was able to voice it. As far as Zoro was concerned, the answer would always be a firm no.

As you started to stack the pink and blue on your arm Zoro reached to take them from you, draping the fabric over his shoulder. He returned your appreciative smile with a slight nod, heart warm at how you doted on him with your eyes alone.

Yeah, it was better this way—you waiting for something that would never happen, and him standing stoic at your side, nothing but a loyal companion.

“Miss.” Your voice, calling to the cashier, broke him from his less-than-happy thoughts. “Have you got any purple?” You swiftly turned back to Zoro with a brief, “Robin said she likes purple.”

The cashier looked up from her book, pushing her glasses up her nose. “I just finished some this morning,” she said with a grin, getting up to lift the gate in the counter and motioning for you to follow her into the back of the shop. “I’ll show you.”

Zoro’s skin prickled as you glided after the cashier, shooting him a smile as you disappeared through the door. He was left standing with the odd sense that something was wrong. 

Maybe it was the way a sudden draft hit his back despite there being no ventilation, or maybe it was the fact that you walked under a ladder earlier just to piss him off. Or, perhaps, it was the flash of green in the cashier’s eyes as she passed by a mirror.

Whatever it was, he stayed put, trusting he would be there to help you the moment you needed him. Zoro was always there when you needed him. Neither he nor you had reason to doubt this fact.

You felt completely at ease as you entered a small, dim room full of messy shelves, half-knit sweaters, and heaps of yarn. “Here,” the cashier pointed to a table at the center of the room. “Is this the shade you had in mind?”

A grin split your face as you felt the fabric, marveling at its softness. It was high-quality stuff, definitely not cheap. But you thought of Robin, who had done so much for you, and felt it was worth the possible loan from Nami.

“It’s perfect,” you replied. “How much?”

“Oh, it’s on the house.”

You startled instantly, eyes darting up to find the cashier absent from your side despite her voice being right in your ear. “Come again?”

“You can have it.” Turning slowly, you found the woman sorting through a surplus fo purple fabrics. “I have plenty.”

A gentle laugh escaped you. “Thank you so much. My friend will love it.”

The cashier swiveled on her heel and leaned against the table, head cocked to the side. Had her eyes always been so vibrant an emerald? They almost seemed to glow. “No, thank you, Your Highness.”

Chills ran up your spine at the formal address, all air expelled from your body as you choked out, “Pardon me?”

Caught up in the green of the woman’s eyes, you didn’t notice a misty tendril swirling up your body till it clouded your vision, directing your captured attention to the corner of the room. There in the shadows was a contraption you’d never seen before, yet you knew its purpose instantly. 

The purple string being woven gave it away. How had you not noticed the spinning wheel before? 

The fabric slipped from your fingers and fell to the floor in a lump. You darted for the door, yet your feet never moved an inch, cemented in place. Was that a tear on your cheek? No, it couldn’t be. You never cried. And yet, a salty streak ran from your eye to your jaw now, as if your body knew what your mind denied: your fate had caught you.

“Stop.” You weren’t sure who you spoke to. Your feet that started to creep toward the spindle? The husk of a woman, possessed by some evil spirit of a bitter sorceress? Destiny herself? Whoever you ordered refused to listen as you closed in on the wheel and raised a steady hand.

A half-lived life flashed before your eyes. A princess sat alone in a room, loneliness her only companion. A girl stood on a ship, tasting freedom for the very first time. A woman stared at a man, knowing this was what love felt like. 

A light pinch shocked your whole body, and you finally broke from the spell to find your index finger pierced into the sharpest of spindles. A cackle echoed from every corner of the room as the cashier collapsed on the spot. 

One thought broke through your slowly fading mind. Traitorous, wobbly feet took you to the door, flinging it open and leaning you against the doorframe. Your heavy eyes ached, Zoro’s voice so far away. You didn’t feel his hands on your arms as you sank to the floor.

Your labored, panicked breathing matched your flickering, terrified eyes. “Spindle.”

And you lay fast asleep in Zoro’s arms a moment later, peace written in your features. Your chest rose and fell gently. Zoro gazed down at the sleeping beauty, uttering your name over and over, practically paralyzed… Until he noticed the tiny bit of blood dripping from your fingertip, and he looked into the ajar room. A spinning wheel stood right in his line of sight, the wheel creaking as it spun slowly.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

You had never told any of your friends about the curse, too embarrassed to do so. Was that a lapse in judgment? Perhaps, but you were too asleep to know.

Now Chopper stood at your side, holding his stethoscope over your heart. He set the scope around his neck a moment later, putting his hooves together nervously. Chopper felt the whole crew staring at his back like a brand. “I think—Well, I think she’s sleeping.”

Luffy had been deathly silent through the whole ordeal, not taking his eyes off you since Zoro carried you back to the ship in a hurry. “Then let’s wake her up.”

Sanji slapped a hand over his mouth before Luffy could start yelling, shoving out a sigh. “We tried that, didn’t we? Marimo shook her for five minutes before we could pry him off her.”

Everyone waited for when the swordsman would quip back his own insult, but the usual pattern was thrown off by a strange silence. Even Sanji looked around, confused to find Zoro nowhere in sight. 

Sanji blinked a few times before he placed his hands on his hips. “Now where the fuck is he?”

From the corner, seated in a chair, one leg crossed over the other, Robin spoke up for the first time all evening. Her thoughtful eyes stared into the space ahead of her. “I saw him leave a moment ago. Said he had to get something.”

Not even a second later did Zoro barge down into the galley. In one hand he held a spinning wheel of all things. In the other, he held a woman’s arm in a vice. 

Nami jumped to her feet, aghast. “Zoro, what—?”

He nearly threw the woman before them all, his brows drawn into an expression of ruthlessness. “Well? What did you do to her?!”

With her eyes wide and breaths short, the woman violently shook her head. “I don’t know what you mean!”

Sanji stepped forth intending to sock Zoro in the face for scaring the woman, when Zoro turned on him and spat, “This woman’s the reason she’s—she’s sick!”

That was all it took for Sanji, somehow still poised, to face the terrified woman now encircled by a crowd of frowning pirates. Sanji grabbed the woman’s arm, not as harshly as Zoro had, but just as firmly. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” she sputtered, gazing over at where you laid limply on the table. “I… I remember her. She wanted purple fabric.”

Zoro nearly had the mind to throttle the woman. “You led her into the back room and minutes later she stumbles out and—and sleeps!” He slammed the spinning wheel on the ground, startling everyone around. “She said spindle. What’s this? Some sort of… torture device?”

The woman did nothing but blink at him. “It’s a spinning wheel.”

“What’s it do?”

“It spins.” Suddenly the woman had the nerve of a warrior, righting herself to face Zoro’s glare. “I don’t know what you think I did, but I didn’t. All I know is I led her to the fabric and…” 

All her words fell short as she stuttered to find them, her brows screwing together. “And I don’t remember. I—I don’t remember what happened.”

Sanji seized her shoulders and leveled her with a look. “I need you to remember, madam. It means that girl’s life or death.”

The woman stood frozen, stunned as she stared into Sanji’s eyes, her cheeks turning a concerning shade of pink. Nami rolled her eyes and promptly shoved him out of the way, snapping in the woman’s face. 

“What do you mean you don’t remember?” Nami asked sharply.

“I mean I don’t remember.” Their captive grew increasingly frustrated, and maybe a bit nervous as well. “I walk that bitch into the back, I black out, and I wake up to this guy dragging me out of my home!”

Just as Zoro gasped (“Bitch, huh?”), Robin stood and slowly made her way toward the spinning wheel, running her hand over the wood and grazing a finger over the sharp needle. Inspecting the spindle close, she found a bit of dried blood there. She hummed, keeping everyone on edge, and went toward your sleeping form, grabbing your hands and turning them over. “Ah-ha…”

Zoro stepped forward, anxious. “What?”

“I think she poked herself on the spindle.” Robin made it sound so simple.

Nami tapped her finger to her nose as she pondered. “But why would that make her… sick?”

“Poison?” Chopper offered at the same time Robin answered, “Magic.”

“We don’t have time for speculation,” Sanji gritted as he fished around his pockets for his lighter, cigarette between his teeth. “Can we test for what poison it could be?”

As Chopper started to ramble about some tests he could run, Zoro stared daggers at the spinning wheel. Now, he wasn’t superstitious, but perhaps he was a little stitious, because the longer he stared at the wheel the more he remembered about what transpired in that shop.

“Why would it be magic?” Zoro asked suddenly, silencing the room. 

All eyes found Robin, who was now sitting on your bedside holding your hand. “She’s a princess, right? The princesses in the stories I’ve read dealt with a lot of bad magic.”

Nami shook her head. “This isn’t a story, Robin.”

The debate went on like that, really going nowhere at all, the cashier woman tentatively slinking away during the rabble and inevitably going forgotten. Luffy ignored them all, approaching you and lifting your hand to inspect as if he’d find some kind of sign in your pierced fingertip. 

And just maybe, he did find something. “Hey, Nami?”

She ran a hand over her face as Sanji and Zoro took jab after jab at one another, the stress of your condition getting to the both of them. “Yeah, Luffy?”

He followed a very excited thought bunny here and there, after princesses and stories until it hopped to a stop in front of a certain royal friend of theirs. You appeared next, smiling like he wished you would now. “Vivi? Yeah, I know her. We go way back.”

“Call Vivi,” he ordered, closing the discussion as he too sat at your side and started to poke at your sides, as if tickling you would be enough to break this spell.

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Often, your dreams gave way to the most horrible nightmares, and always, you would find refuge in the realm of day. Until now. No matter where you ran a firm sheet of black blocked you in. Air as frigid as the Arctic enveloped you. No friend in sight, no solace from the cold. 

Finally falling still, you blinked, and you stood in the middle of your tower, back in your kingdom. The high-reaching walls created that familiar dome painted with the long-forgotten stories of your people. The marble floors chilled your bare feet. Your bed leered at you from the far wall, whispers inviting you back into its clutches that would send you spiraling further into this forever sleep.

Panic surged up your chest till you gasped for air, losing your grip quicker than you could keep up with. Laughter taunted you from every corner till you started to scream and shout and call out for anyone to help you. But the door held fast against your pulling and thick briar thorns wrapped all around the balcony. 

Still, you clawed at the spiraling thorns, prying to see through, blistering your palms on their heated stalks. Your whimpers were followed by a loud, echoed roar, a harsh gust of wind cast down from the wings of a soaring lizard you’d only ever dreamed of. 

You whirled around to catch a better view of the creature’s mass, clutching at your heart as those gargantuan claws settled down on the tower of your bedroom. Two nostrils blew smoke that encroached the balcony and the depths of your room. The dragon’s eyes held no mercy as she gazed down with malice. 

This curse played a cruel joke, trapping you within the bars of your own mind, turning your fantasies against you. Your every turn showed you more wonders turned horrors the longer you searched for them; the clouds formed words you wouldn’t dare to repeat, the grass down below burned in confusing patterns, and the voices of those you held dear echoed from somewhere nearby.

Your fretful mother. Your paranoid father. The gossiping handmaidens. The superstitious priest. All lamented your fate, screaming how they knew it was a matter of time before the curse finally found you, tearing into you for ever even dreaming of leaving. You really should have stayed. This wouldn’t have happened if you’d piped down and stayed.

Then it was Luffy, Nami, and Usopp. “Why did you ever ask her to join us?” “Not sure. I thought she was something she wasn’t.” “She’s just a liar.” “A dead weight.” “A curse.”

Robin’s voice pierced her eardrums as your knees hit the ground. Why had she ever given you the time of day? Some sheltered little princess without enough common sense to know a spinning wheel when she saw one. And Chopper, his sweet voice turned sour. How pathetic. Beaten by a piece of wood.

The worst of it all was when his voice broke through all the rest despite how she tried to ignore that rumbling tone she once learned to crave. Zoro’s words were direct and clear. She’s finally gone. God, I was this close to just silencing her stupid mouth myself.

To think he would ever actually love her? How foolish of you.

The walls of your dreams closed in swiftly, caging you in and suffocating your hopes till you were left a husk, floating amidst the torment. 

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Vivi had been silent for so long Luffy wondered if she’s gotten distracted and walked off. Nami shuffled closer to the snail transponder. “Vivi?”

“Sorry,” her voice reappeared, a slight crack to it. “I just… you said she pricked a spindle?” Nami hummed in agreement, and Vivi expelled a long sigh. “She’s been asleep since? You can’t wake her?”

“That’s what we said,” Zoro snapped, shutting up at Nami’s sharp glare.

“It’s just… I mean, I’ve only heard stories. She only talked about it once, in a letter she wrote to me. That’s the only way we could talk since her parents locked her away—”

“Stories about what, Vivi?” Nami guided the tense princess back as Zoro started to pace back and forth, his hands raking at his hair.

She was silent for two whole seconds, and then, “The curse.”

The whole room fell still.

“They say a dark Wise Woman cursed her when she was baby, so that one day, she would prick her finger on a spinning wheel’s spindle… and die.” She rushed to amend herself, “But then another Wise Woman fixed it. She won’t die, but fall asleep… until someone shows her an act of true, unconditional love.”

For a long while the whole room is held captive by silence, eyes flickering to where you snoozed nearby. Zoro couldn’t look away. The way you looked so peaceful pained him in a way, knowing you were trapped in a place he couldn’t save you from. At least the tiny grin on your face gave him confidence your everlasting dreams were nice.

“How do we do that?” he heard himself asking.

“I—I don’t know. I thought it was a story to justify her isolation—”

“Well, obviously not.”

“Zoro,” Nami’s words cut sharply. “Take a walk.”

“But—”

“Walk.”

He stood with as much noise as he could, knocking his chair back and stomping out of the room. Zoro stopped just at the door to cast a look at you, highly aware of the eyes of everyone on him. His hand closed around the doorframe, his heart tightening, and he left without another word. 

Letting the others see how much he cared for you would just make everything infinitely worse. Zoro couldn’t handle that level of teasing on top of your sickness.

Zoro stepped out onto the deck, now basked in moonlight, and rushed to lean against the railing. His skin felt feverish in contrast to the cold dread coursing through his veins. Why hadn’t you said anything? Sure, he probably wouldn’t have believed you, but maybe… maybe he wouldn’t have let you leave his side so quickly.

And now this? This formidable task would supposedly save you. An act of true love? What could that even mean?

With his eyes on the sky, Zoro let out a shaken sigh. He would tear every one of those stars down if it meant you would be okay. Would that be enough for this curse? Or would he have to take down the moon as well and lay it at your feet?

No… no, certainly nothing he could do would ever be strong enough to save you. For so long he’d put off your advances, too stubborn to face the emotions building up in his heart… Zoro doubted he held the strength to perform such an act, and that notion threatened to crush him. 

He too had read the stories Robin spoke of; stories of princes who swooped in and saved the princess with a kiss. You needed one of them—those princes—and Zoro was far from royalty.

If anything, he was the knight in rusted armor who failed.

But, an idea crept out of the depths of his mind, crawling to the surface till his heart pumped at the possibility. He was no prince, no knight, and no cursebreaker—but Zoro was a hunter.

He burst back into the galley with a crazed look in his eyes. “Vivi?”

Her voice crackled out from the startled snail. “Yes?”

“Where do we find this Wise Woman?”

Not even a day later, the crew set out on the sea once more, a new destination in mind: the secluded island of the so-called wise and elusive faeries. 

Zoro stood at your bedside, too afraid to reach out and take your hand, making a solemn oath.

“I will find a way to save you if it is the last thing I do.”

If only the swordsman would have known—the strongest of magic lies in promises. If only Zoro had the eye to see the tendrils of magic curling around your sleeping body, tightening around you as the curse shivered away from his declaration. Spirits hissed from the corners fo the room and shied away from the mere passion behind his eyes. Somewhere distant a sorceress coiled her fists around nothing as her hold on the slumbering princess slipped through, little by little. Could he have fathomed it, he would have known he held more honor than the mightiest of princes. 

But he couldn’t fathom it, so he failed to notice the magic encircling his heart, seeking out any cracks in his steel-strong pride. There were none to find. The magic had nowhere to go, and until the hunter’s pride wore down, nothing would change. 

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Your godmother turned out to be a real bitch, by Zoro’s standards. First off, she was waiting for them on the shore, like a creep. In her witchy get-up, Zoro could have mistaken her for the one he meant to run through with his sword. 

“What’re you supposed to be,” he sneered as she made her way up the gangway, practically making herself on home on the deck. 

She met his glare equally. “I’m your only hope, dear. Now wipe that look off your face. You’ll get stuck like that.”

Rosalie took control of the situation in her stride, heading down to the galley and acting as if she owned the place. Only Nami seemed to be put off by this, standing at Zoro’s side with her arms folded as the rest of the crew gathered around the Wise Woman.

“She was always too stubborn for her own good,” said Rosalie fondly, a tiny grin on her lips. “Luckily for you, Carabose never strays far from the island. It’s the source of our power, and the poor, scaly, greedy thing would just die if she lost her magic.”

The radiant faerie pulled her dark curls forth, scrunching up her angular nose as she thought of the witch to blame for her dear princess’s condition. She sucked in a breath and released it harshly, suddenly appearing much older than before. “I must thank you. My princess deserves so much more, and you managed to give it to her, if only for a little while.”

“You talk as if she’s dead,” Nami grumbled. The look Rosalie gave her then was far less than comforting.

“Well, unless you have a source for true love nearby, she’s as good as it.” Zoro’s hand closed around the hilt of his sword, his eyes slamming shut as that grief washed over him again. Rosalie’s eyes flickered to him, an unnoticeable shine in her eye and a tilt in her lips. 

(Wise Women see much more than the normal eye, and just now Rosalie spotted the remarkable fuchsia tendrils of a very special kind of magic, so rare many thought it mere myth… yet it was swirling around the swordsman’s heart).

She turned to face the crew in their entirety, her expression grave. “Only the caster may raise a curse unless it is broken according to certain parameters. I may be able to deal with Carabose through negotiation. We… have a history.” Rosalie ruffled slightly. “She might have mercy and relinquish the curse herself.”

Zoro scoffed, drawing the faerie’s attention. “And if she doesn’t?”

Rosalie’s eyes flashed. “Then I’ll cut her down and hope that is enough.”

Sanji shook his head, blinking like he was forcing himself to deny Rosalie’s beauty. “And what will we do?”

“You’ll be with me. If Carabose dies and she does not wake… one of you will have to make a sacrifice.” Rosalie assessed them all with cool eyes, reveling in their discomfort, till she cracked a smile and tossed her head back. “I jest, I jest! However, we will need to come up with a display of true love after the deed is done and our princess has not woken.”

Zoro continued to bristle at the faerie’s coolness, grinding his teeth as she floated about the room, mumbling to herself. He dropped his swords on the table with a clang, startling Rosalie. “I can kill the witch myself. Give me ten minutes, and it’ll be done.”

“I know you are desperate to save your friend, Swordsman,” Rosalie simpered. “But you’ll be staying here.”

His blood was boiling at this point. The plan at hand was hardly what he’d had in mind. Zoro shook his head firmly and grasped his composure tightly. “I need to do something.”

“And you will! You’ll be guarding our princess.” Rosalie dared to set a hand on Zoro’s shoulder, making him go all stiff till he caught her steely gaze. “Carabose controls many of the spirits of the island. I wouldn’t put it past her to send one of them to whisk the princess away. You perhaps have the most important job of all.”

Yeah, right. Zoro locked eyes with Nami over the faerie’s shoulder, sharing a silent agreement as he shrugged the woman off. “Nami can stay behind—”

“No.” Rosalie’s grip tightened around his shoulder as the temperature dropped instantly. “You will stay, and Nami will come along.” Her smile felt sinister. “I am Rosalie of the Wise Women, and you are just a man with a sword. I have conquered kingdoms in the name of her parents. What have you done?” 

“I’ll kill the witch,” he said weakly. “And I’ll save her.”

“Kill the witch,” she mocked him. “You mean to tell me that’s an act of true love, swordsman?” Rosalie leaned in close, her voice as soft as wind. “How can you say you love her when you let her go, Roronoa Zoro. Now stay put and don’t make the same mistakes twice.”

She swept away as swiftly as she’d closed in, leaving Zoro breathless and unsteady. Rosalie clapped her hands together and faced Luffy with a grin. “Now, Captain. You understand the plan?”

Luffy looked all around, making eye contact with each of his crewmates, till he found Zoro, who leaned against the wall having some sort of crisis. Words rose up to his tongue, ready to lash out and tear the faerie to bits when he saw it. The tendrils were growing brighter. Slowly, he turned to Rosalie, who met his gaze unblinkingly. “Yeah, I got it.”

Usopp shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, Luffy, I don’t think—”

“I trust her,��� he declared, and that was that. Usopp nodded, followed by the reluctant rest. Zoro’s eyes flashed up to meet his captains, unsure about how confident Luffy was, but not willing to ever doubt his friend. 

“Splendid,” Rosalie simpered. “I’ve no doubt Carabose is waiting for us, so we’d do best to keep up our guards.”

As she rounded everyone up and led them out of the galley and off the ship, Nami brought Zoro aside, her brows furrowed. “I don’t like this,” she murmured. “But I trust Luffy.” Zoro grunted as if to agree, his eyes unfocused. Nami gave his shoulder a pat as she passed him. “Just stay with her. Who knows, maybe she’ll know you’re there.”

And Zoro found himself all alone, the ship a deathly quiet he had never witnessed before. He could hear his every breath and feel the rock of the ship. A creak came from somewhere nearby, pinching at a sensitive part of his mind. Zoro took a few weightless, shallow steps down the hall, his hand running against the wall, until he came face to face with the door of your bedroom. 

Too long he stared at the door before he shoved at it, swinging it open wide. Zoro surged inside with so much gusto his muscle memory urged him to reach for his swords, but he’d left them in the galley. Instead, his hand grasped at air whilst he vacantly stared about the room. 

You lay soundlessly atop your bed, hands crossed over your chest like a corpse. Zoro instantly moved to adjust your arms, laying them instead at your sides. There, that was better.

His brows screwed together; where a smile had earlier been gracing your lips, a firm frown now replaced it. Your face contorted, your mind plagued by an enemy Zoro couldn’t fight. Ensuring he didn’t make a sound, Zoro took a knee and drew close to your face, folding his arms on the edge of your bed and resting his head there.

Sweat beaded along your forehead, distress clear on your face. Without thinking Zoro reached to wipe it away with the back of his hand, initiating a kind of intimate contact only you had ever thrust upon him. He shocked himself, frozen with his hand on your cheek before he cleared his throat and returned to his original position.

Hours he stayed like that, eyes dutifully watching over your face, pulse spiking at every sign of distress caught in your features. Your brows pinched together, lips parting as a strangled sigh left you.

Perhaps… Zoro threw caution to the wind and reached for your hand. You didn’t budge, but—and maybe he was seeing things—it looked like your face softened up a little bit. So he stayed just like that, rubbing circles into the back of your hand.

He lifted his gaze to the window, where the sun was beginning to set once again. “Wonder if the others found that witch yet…” They could be fighting for their lives, if Rosalie’s dumb plan fell through. He should be out there. Zoro’s eyes flickered all around the blue sky, worry eating at him, till he finally rose to his feet and dropped your hand. 

“I’ll be back—” Your instant whine had Zoro practically jumping out of his skin and descending back to your side all at once. “I mean, they can probably handle it. I’m still here.”

Your face returned to a state of calm as if you’d never moved at all. He scoffed out a laugh, murmuring fondly, “You little shit.” Again, little shifts in your expression hinted at a nightmare. “What’s goin’ on in there, huh?”

(Your dreams had taken a drastic turn. Dragon fire shot past your head, close enough to singe your eyelashes. The broom you’d taken up as a weapon splintered against the scaly back of your guard. The serpent burned away at the roof of your room, circling like a vulture, taunting echoes slipping off her forked tongue. As your eyes continued to flutter, sleep beckoning like a long-lost friend, you didn’t dare to succumb to the call. Should you sleep, you felt certain you would never, ever wake up. 

Yet, you were so tired. It couldn’t hurt… if you rested your eyes… if only to escape the taunting of his voice. He’s glad you’re good as dead. He never had to deal with your pining ever again. 

Every echo of doubt had you believing that just maybe, it might be true, sending you deeper into this eternal insanity).

“Zoro.”

The swordsman didn’t breathe. He couldn’t. “I’m here.” If his words had any effect on the state of you, it didn’t show. You only rustled sharply, eyes flickering all around behind your eyelids… until you fell deadly still. “Hey now. Don’t slip away just yet.”

Again, he took up your hand, willing you to keep giving him signs that you weren’t too deep into slumber. “An act of true love. Sanji could probably pull one of those out of his ass.” That thought sent him on a tangent, pictures of your effervescent smile flashing across his mind. 

Days ago, he’d been so secure on never revealing his feelings to you. The pair of you would have lived all your lives revolving around one another until you inevitably gave up, and it would be for the best. Right then and there, though, Zoro felt certain if he never looked into your eyes again he would never forgive himself for every time he turned you away. 

“I’ve always wondered,” he whispered. “Why you don’t just go after the lovecook. It’d be a hell of a lot easier than dealing with me.” 

Zoro made himself comfortable, leaning his head on the bed. “If… when you wake up, let’s go do something, like you wanted. You like painting, right? We’ll go painting. I’ll probably offend the very act of art, but maybe you’ll laugh at me, and it’ll be okay. I’ll throw paint in your hair and you’ll punch me, and it’ll be a real good time.”

Nothing. Your chest rose and fell at a concerningly slow pace. “When we get you back… I’ll apologize. For being an idiot.” Had your lips always been so dry? “But you have to wake up to hear it.”

Your condition remained unchanged… save for the stark silence coming from your nose, and the eerie stillness of your chest. Zoro’s gut churned. You were only meant to sleep, so why weren’t you breathing?

(The sleeping beauty dared to lie down, the tower burning all around her, at ease among the encroaching flames).

His hand felt at you heart, his own stuttering at how faint yours was beating. You looked so blank. Not a flaw in your void expression. Zoro, on the verge of pleading to gods he didn’t believe in, again reached for a sword that wasn’t there as a bone-chilling chuckle echoed from every corner. 

“You can’t save her~” sang a ghostly voice, right into his ear. 

Zoro slammed his ear down on his shoulder to rid himself of the shiver running down his spine. Whipping around, he ground his jaw enough to hear the chip in his teeth. “Watch me, witch.”

Her laughter mocked him. “How? You’re no prince. No knight. What’re you going to do, warrior? Kiss her and hope your honor is enough?” Carabose appeared in a misty shadow behind him, surging through his body like a specter, sending him keeling to the floor. “The princess’ soul has long belonged to me. True love doesn’t exist. Rosalie should’ve known that.”

“You’re wrong!” Zoro bellowed, something deep in his heart constricting, building up a fire in his bones. 

“Oh,” the witch hummed darkly. “I’m sure. This isn’t a fairytale, boy. Kisses don’t wake princesses… and simple swordsmen don’t save them.”

The witch’s cackle faded even as he slashed at the air with his arm, wild eyes searching till they landed back on you, unnervingly calm. If Carabose’s intention was to have her spirits discourage Zoro, she fairly succeeded; but she also succeeded in something else—giving him something to prove.  

His shoulders sunk as he just stared, taking in the hopeless sight before him. It was much too late to confess to his sleeping beauty. Even if they did find a way to wake her, who was to say she would still want him? What if some hero swoops in and takes her away?

He would be deserving of that fate, Zoro thinks, his foolishness crashing down on him even as he falls to his knees at your side once more. 

Make a note that Roronoa Zoro doesn’t believe in magic. It’s all make-believe to help children see the good in the world. He knew that full and well, deep in his heart. But something he knew with far greater certainty is that he would do anything to have the chance to love you as you loved him. 

Magic wasn’t real. But what if? Zoro felt silly for daring to think it, but even then his hand reached to cup your cheek. Wasn’t there truth to every story? Kissing princesses didn’t make the world all right. Fairytales don’t come true. 

But the sun was setting on another day with you held down by this curse, and Zoro felt pathetic and weak and he had no other plan at hand. 

“I’m an idiot,” he confessed the obvious. “I never choose what’s easy except when it comes to you. Which made it difficult, which defeated the purpose and—Never mind.” Peaceful despite the circumstances, you never stirred an inch. “Please wake up. Please… Or I’ll look really, really stupid.”

One hand on your cheek, the other bracing himself against the bed, Zoro pressed the most delicate of kisses atop your cold lips, a horrifying shiver shooting through him at how it felt like kissing a corpse. Lingering, he drew back, breath staggered at how nothing happened. You didn’t shoot awake. Not a muscle in your body twitched. Your eyes didn’t move.

“Please,” he mumbled over your lips, his forehead colliding with yours in a desperate plea. “Wake up. Wake up so I can tell you I love you.”

Unseen magic exploded around the room, wrapping around the swordsman and the princess as pride and honor were laid down at the feet of a curse that died with the far-off scream of a thwarted witch.

(The sleeping princess blinked awake, squinting from the blinding light filtering in through the open ceiling. The dragon faded to mist and the fires blew out with a hush. Words the princess had only ever dreamed of hearing echoed down to her ears, and everything went white).

You awoke from the most horrible sleep, your bones and body aching as something like a cold fever washed over you. A shallow breath fizzled out of you right before your lungs brought in as much air as they could take. Eyes flinging open, your surroundings came into focus in an instant, and you found a figure looming over you with the funniest expression.

Zoro’s face was white as a sheet, eyes wide and brows vaulted, his lips parted. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost, and a laugh left you before you could stop it. You smiled with no abandon as Zoro’s hand traced your jaw. “What’s this about?”

And it all came rushing back like a punch to your gut as Zoro’s eyes bore into you. Your lips fell into a shocked gape. “You kissed me?”

“I… uhm…” 

You slowly sat upright, hands in your lap, head tilted as you admired the man before you in a light like never before. “You love me?”

His eyes pinched shut, and you feared he regretted his confession. Perhaps it was a heat-of-the-moment thing. Maybe he didn’t mean it and you’re stupid for ever thinking he might—

“I do.” He looked as breathless as you felt. “I do love you.”

An eternity could have passed and you wouldn’t have known nor cared, all too caught up in etching his face into your memory. Hesitant, you rose to your knees, bed covers shoved aside, and your hands went to cup his face tenderly. “Tell me again.”

Warmth flooded his cheeks as your thumbs ran over his cheekbones, drawing his eyes back to yours every time they dared to flicker away. He melted into you, one hand falling to your waist and the other cupping behind your thigh. “I love you.”

Another smile burst across your face. “I love you too.” You leaned in close, nudging your nose at his cheek. “I’m gonna kiss you.”

Zoro cracked a grin, his eyes fluttering. “Okay.”

“And kiss you.” 

“Fine by me.”

“I’ll never sleep again. I’m only going to kiss you until they pry me off you, my handsome, lovely, cursebreaker swordsman—Mmph!”

His lips cut you off, surging forth to catch you unguarded. Zoro’s arms pulled you in quickly as you pushed in just as firmly, hands raking through his hair. Years you waited and years you longed. Countless nights you laid awake intending to give up come morning, only to fall back into his eyes. 

All for this. The day your soul knew would come even when your heart was doubting. 

“I love you,” you broke away to say, simply because you could.

And no witch, no curse, no destiny would ever keep you from telling him. 

Giggling at nothing at all, you leaned into him and wrapped him up in your arms, head falling to his shoulder. Your eyes drifted behind him, your whole body freezing at the sight in the corner. ���What the fuck is that doing here?”

Zoro nearly broke his neck whipping it around only to choke on a laugh. The spinning wheel sat humbly to the side, purple string still running through it. “Probably was a bad idea to keep it in here.”

“You think!” You lightly flicked his nose and got a little grunt out of him. “Let’s burn it.”

A bonfire awaited the crew as they returned, their egos bruised and spirits low despite their defeat of the Wise Woman Carabose. Every last one of them nearly screamed when they saw you stoking the pillar of fire with the brightest smile on your face, Zoro’s arm round your shoulder.

You teetered this way and that, tossed around as they hugged the life out of you. Laughter came easy and the night drew long, stories of their victory recounted and certain questions about your recovery proposed.

“You needed an act of true love,” Chopper wondered, never straying far from your side as he clung to your arm. “So what happened?”

You weren’t at all subtle in your direct look at Zoro, who coughed and averted his eyes to the suddenly very interesting ground. “Someone got off their high horse and—”

“All right!” Zoro laughed awkwardly. “Cook, where’d you put the extra sake?”

Nami silently awed as she dragged you and Robin aside, begging to know exactly what happened. Somewhere through the night, Usopp looked around, lowering his glass from his lips. “What happened to Rosalie?”

You tripped over nothing at that name. “What? My godmother?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “She helped us find Cara-bitch, or whatever… When did she disappear?”

Everyone took a moment to think, blinking quickly as a single answer was formed: they didn’t know.

“That sounds like her. I just wish I could’ve said hello,” you said. 

Zoro hovered at your side, his hand ghosting over yours. “She was weird anyway.”

“Hey!”

The fire fizzled out somewhere close to dawn, though the celebration seemed far from over. Your eyes felt heavy and your body too, but every time you fell too much into drowsiness, cold terror tore through you. You weren’t joking when you declared you’d never sleep again; the prospect petrified you.

“C’mon,” Zoro muttered when your head fell to his shoulder and shot back up for the sixth time. “You need to rest.”

“I’ve slept enough—”

“That’s not what I said.” Zoro stood and offered you a hand, a gentle smile warming you from the inside out. You shoved your hand into his and started the trek below deck, departure unnoticed.

As you passed your bedroom, you stopped and stared at your bed just three seconds before you bee-lined to Zoro’s door, leading him along behind you. Dazedly, you waltzed around each other, preparing for sleep even as your heart pounded in your head. 

“What if I don’t wake up?” you wondered aloud as Zoro sunk into bed.

His eyes found yours and you swore you fell even deeper. “You will.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I love you.”

That fact was one of the only real things either of you knew, and for now, it was enough. 

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s

[mimiyapshard]

In the warrior Penelope AU, Does Odysseus have to deal with Antonius and the other suitors while his wife’s away? Also how would the challenge go in this AU?

hii, tysm for the interesting question! I'll explain how it goes in my version of the AU below!

Basically, yes, Odysseus still has to deal with the Suitors and Antinous, but with different circumstances to fit the whole thing better.

The Suitors aren't at Ithaca because a king can't rule without a queen, but because Odysseus can't rule without Penelope. They are a team, Odysseus doesn't do it all alone, he knows how smart she is. So without Penelope, the kingdom is crumbling, because half things aren't getting done and the other is neglected by a man who is depressed without his wife. The Suitors go to Ithaca to take over, but it's not that they want to marry Ody (not that they can, though I like to imagine Antinous as a close minded bi man and the Suitors as the LeFou to his Gaston), but rather, they want to be nominated sort of his advisors, someone really close to Odysseus to "help him", to then kill him secretly.

This is where Athena comes in. Athena is there at Ithaca, always has been, to do her best to help Odysseus and buy time. But she's disguised as , guess who, Mentor! Remember him from the myth? Odysseus said that once Mentor is finished weaving, he will choose a suitor, but Mentor is never done weaving. He's the goddess of weaving herself making her secret plan work. Also, Mentor just never fucking dies in 20 years and that's suspicious to the Suitors, since he's not really young. They wait for him to die and he never does, and to that Mentor claims that it's the "will of the gods, probably". Telemachus doesn't know that the man who grew him together with his dad is a goddess.

Now, the challenge. In EPIC (unless Jay changes it but from the snippet it's this), it's "whoever can string my husband's old bow, and shoot through twelve axes cleanly, will be the new king...". In this AU, it's basically the same, since one of Penelope's weapons is the bow. The Suitors are a bit weirded out, because how could a woman be that strong right, but they accept because they think it's too easy. Until Penelope disguised as a man comes and does it better than them. Another way I could twist it up is to make it a weaving challenge instead, and make the Suitors super bad at it because they are warriors, but I feel like we have the weaving theme already and something different is better!

This is my idea for now. Subject to change, like always. If you have any other ideas or want to share your own things, I'd be happy to hear 🫶

[nillabean]

Eishou: New rule. No dumb shit until I've had some coffee.

Gashin: But you don't drink coffee.

Eishou: I said what I said.

[fifteenleads]

12 Kingdoms | Hanrin(Risetsu), Go Ranjou(King Han) | Modern/Taika AU. Showbiz.

-

“Over here, Risetsu.” It takes a while for Hanrin to realize she’s being called; she still isn’t used to all the noise, nor to her Hourai name. At least it’s become easier over time to breathe amid the heavy pollution, now reduced to a somewhat tolerable inconvenience after the first two weeks. She still keeps her face mask on though, more out of habit than anything.

She carefully zips up the back of Tsuki’s costume, lighty placing a hand over the girl’s trembling shoulders. “You look great, dear.” Hanrin nods when Tsuki beams at her, adding a gentle squeeze for reassurance before making her way across the room to her master.

Ranjou is busy reapplying Hoshi’s lipstick for the umpteenth time that morning while admonishing her not to bite on it to calm her nerves. He motions Hanrin to sit beside him, meeting her concerned look with an encouraging smile. All in a day’s work, he all but says to her. It’s become his personal mantra of sorts over years of hard work, even as more people left the team and his responsibilities increased tenfold.

“Anything to survive, huh,” Hanrin ponders to herself later, while watching the girls record their fifth take of the song. Apparently two whole weeks without sleep is nothing for those in show business, as well as for everyone else working with them. It doesn’t even take being a kirin to abhor how people could even live this kind of life— not that she ever says it out loud, of course. Not until they return to Han, anyway.

Amidst the backstage hubbub, she doesn’t immediately notice Ranjou taking a seat beside her. “Everything okay?”

“So far, so good.” Hanrin accepts the tea her master proffers, keeping the warm bottle close to her chest as she continues to observe the performance. “Say, Your Majesty,” and her voice carries an uncertain quiver, “are some dreams really worth risking one’s life over?”

“... That’s a hard one.” Ranjou purses his lips in thought, seriously considering the question. He’d already given up shushing her whenever she addressed him reverently— finally, she’d harrumphed, as you so deserve— and Hanrin secretly hopes it also means he’ll eventually, finally, come back with her to Han, where they belong. She hasn’t meant to indirectly follow up on it so soon, but apparently he sees through it anyway.

The music slowly fades into silence, giving way once more to directions from the filming crew. The shoot is probably ending soon, then they’ll change studios for the interview segment. Hanrin rubs her temples to ease the ringing in her ears; how everyone else seems to carry on unbothered is beyond her.

Ranjou stands up before she does, fishing out from his pocket a small picture of Tsuki and Hoshi, when they still looked more their actual age than they do now. “They said MoonStar would never last the year,” he reminisces. “They said the same thing about everyone, really. Realists, all of them.”

He was one, too, the day Hanrin appeared before him, his eyes almost devoid of light after years of witnessing failure and hurt in this suffocating place. But she realized that a dying ember can still become a fire, so she decided not to prostrate herself before him yet, no matter how much her heart yearned for it. In hindsight, being Risetsu for the past month has probably been the best thing to happen to her yet, if only because she has had her master all to herself before giving him up to Han once and for all.

“Well, they’ve certainly come far,” and she is beaming with the same pride Ranjou feels in his heart now, as loud applause fills the studio to wrap up the shoot. “Seeing it all up close was more than worth it, I guess.” Worth all the exhaustion, she doesn’t say to him. Or the noise, or the breathlessness and the heavy pollution, among many other things that made Hourai a terrible world to be in. And Hanrin fondly keeps this past tense and more close to her heart, because her master, whom she loves above all else, is worth everything.

Ranjou chuckles quietly in agreement, gently patting her shoulder and giving it an affectionate squeeze. He’d learned early on that her forehead was off-limits, though the exact reason for that hasn’t stuck with him yet, the same way the whole idea of their birth place in the other world still hasn’t. It’s probably not long now, Hanrin presumes, before everything falls into place, but she found that she no longer cared as much. Because either way, she’ll continue to stay by his side for however long he may need, and forever after that.

[red-winter-is-coming]

ooooooooo you wanna read the fic I wrote about Artificial Vanilla soooooo badly~~~~ /silly

Content warnings: mentioned cannibalism and pretty bad harm being done to an eight year old (seen after the fact) (nothing specific is described)

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — KNIGHT! GOJO x PRINCESS! FEM READER

Gojo has devoted his entire life to protecting you as your dedicated guard. A greater force is conspiring to keep you apart. 

wc — 3.7k

tags — royal au, childhood friends, forbidden love, protective Gojo, sneaking around/flouting social etiquette, period drama-esque tension between repressed princess and rakish knight, mutually possessive, title from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

part 1 of the hand which holds the knife

Everyone knew Satoru Gojo was supposed to be yours. 

You claimed him the day you knighted him. He wore your colors and answered to your demands. The physical evidence of your ownership was all over him, the way someone would mark a well loved pet. Even the neck of his jacket carried your embroidery like a collar. To anyone with eyes, he was your adored guard dog. 

When all of your memories blur into one stream of consciousness, the day you knighted him remains clear. You remember everything, including your father stealing him out from under you. 

You were the only one who truly thought he was ever going to be yours. It was part of the promise you had sworn to each other as children, playing princess and the guard with wooden swords and flower crowns. 

Looking back, you can see the gears of court machinations turning. It was no simple coincidence that the only heir to House Gojo ended up in close proximity to you, any more than any other of your introductions to sons of highborn houses. 

Gojo has no interest in pretending to be a prince. It was boring for him to be trapped in restricting uniforms complete with epaulets. He found more pleasure in protecting you from danger while you preened in your gilded cage, none the wiser through his efforts. Safe and unaware, the way he liked it. You would never have to know how dangerous the world was if he simply destroyed everything in your path before it got to you. 

You didn’t understand the way the adults looked at the two of you. All you knew was that you couldn’t bear to be apart from him. You rose each morning looking for him, and went to bed waiting for the minute you’d be reunited again. He was your whole world, your one and only friend. It was his hand that guided you through childhood adventures. He was the sword and shield that had cut down kidnappers and serpents for you. 

The first wedge in your relationship comes with his twelfth birthday. 

You chase his back through the years, watching it broaden in front of your eyes. His body changes. His voice drops. The first time you hear it after the pitchy squeaks of puberty clear from his throat, you feel the sickening wrench of something in your stomach. It had never mattered before that Gojo was a man, potentially your betrothed. 

Now it burns you to look at him. He became gorgeous while you weren’t looking, all long willowy limbs and snow white hair. The women of the court have started looking at him now. They call him the beautiful dragon, after his house crest. 

Even though you know reasonably that you can do nothing about this, really, you have no right to, that galls you. You’re a princess. You’re used to being able to deal with things that upset you with little more than a nod to Gojo. But he can’t solve issues that he’s the root of. 

The only way to show everyone that Gojo’s devotion belongs to you is to tie him to your side. At twelve, he’s already the strongest squire in the entire kingdom. Better than most knights, even. It’s a clear path to being the greatest knight of his time, throughout all of history, even. He already promised to be your sword when you were children. All you have to do is wait. 

Gojo trains and you begin to learn the extent of your royal responsibilities. Study etiquette. Marry well. Become a dutiful wife. Give the king heirs. 

Gojo becomes Lord Gojo. He calls you princess now. Although part of you rebels at the idea that he would ever call you anything other than your name, another part of you can’t help the queasy feeling you get when he says your title, low and soft. Like he means it for your ears only. Like princess is just another way of showing how much of him is yours. 

Gojo is not usually a proud man because he doesn’t have to be. His abilities speak for himself. But he’s cocky to a fault. He knows the extent of his capabilities, which means he won’t capitulate to anyone. Why would he? 

When it comes to you, however, he bends his neck and accepts the collar willingly. The strongest can only be tamed by what he allows to tame him and it’s you, it’s always been you. 

Perhaps that’s why things turn out the way they do on the day you knight him. 

Or, as you find out later, your father knights him. 

It was the day after your sixteenth birthday. Gojo himself had turned seventeen three months and six days before. It was strangely old for a boy of his caliber. He was so talented he could’ve been the youngest knight in the realm, but no one could make Gojo do something he didn’t want to do. 

There was no shame in it, either. Everyone knew Gojo was too talented and well-connected for it to be anything other than his own choice. The only heir of House Gojo, he was destined to become a knight even if he did nothing to earn it. And he had done much to earn it. 

Winning wars single handedly tended to do that. There were already legends blooming from the battlefield by the time he came home and tossed the unlucky enemy commander’s head at the king’s feat. His bow wasn’t nearly low or respectful enough to be addressed to the king, but he had been lighter-hearted back then, more willing to forgive. 

Especially for Gojo, who had cut a killing swathe through the ranks of the opposing army so ruthlessly they began to call him a god of death.

Gojo kneels at your feet, his white head still high. He’s a little too tall for you, even at this angle. Lord Commander Yaga clears his throat. Gojo looks up through the wisps of hair that have escaped to obscure his eyes. They’re piercing, an attractively violent blue. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, so low no one else could’ve heard the two of you even if you hadn’t been standing alone on the podium in front of the king’s throne. “Am I too tall for you now, princess?” 

“Don’t tease,” you whisper back, flustered despite yourself. The pommel of the sword is clammy in your grip. You’re scared to drop it and accidentally take a finger off with it. 

You’re taking too long. It’s making you anxious. You’re distinctly aware of your father’s stare boring into your back. You’ve been sheltered since you were young by your father’s paranoia, but he’s recently begun letting you apply yourself more to your royal duties. You can’t give him any reason to doubt you. 

Gojo dips a little lower. 

With this change in angle, you can place the flat of the blade on each of his shoulders. It’s your father’s sword, too large and unwieldy in your hands. Standing over Gojo is a strange experience. It’s uncomfortable looking down on someone who’s been taller than you for all your life. 

You wish he would stop looking at you like that. His gaze is searching. You feel naked underneath it, even with layers of dresses on. When he says his vows, it feels intimate, like he’s speaking them to you. For you. 

Gojo rises, shaking his hair out of his eyes like a shaggy dog. Like this, you’re reminded suddenly of how strong he is. His shoulders are broad underneath his silver armor. Lean muscle cords his legs. There’s an easy, effortless grace to the way he moves - the confidence of a man who has never been bested in his entire life. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs. He’s still standing too close. If it were any other man, your father would have demanded he be whipped by now, but Gojo has always gotten away with things no one could. He ducks his head so he can speak directly into your ear - dangerous, even for him. He says his piece fast. “I’ll see you in your rooms, my lady.” 

Then he pulls back. 

There are thunderclouds gathering across the king’s face, but when you shake your head, your father relents. He smiles and kisses your temple as you climb up the steps of the platform of his throne to return the sword to him. 

Years later, you learn that the moment you leave the throne room, your shoulders sure with the knowledge that Gojo is finally secure in your grasp, your father takes up the sword you had held and knights him. Princesses have no authority to confer knighthood. Only kings. 

You know your father means well. He loves you. You’re all he has left. If Gojo pushed for your hand to be one that he swears loyalty to first, then your father would have been happy to comply either way. You just wish you would’ve known that it meant nothing. 

There’s a sharp rap on your door, followed by two short, one long. A code you had devised a long time ago. You pull open the door and Gojo all but falls into your room. He’s pressed up against you, front to front as he closes the door behind him, tumbling you into your bed. 

“Hi, princess,” he says, his breath warm against your neck. You squirm in his hold, feeling heat rush through your veins. It’s getting harder and harder to hide the way he affects you, but you don’t want anything to change between the two of you. Though sometimes, you swear Gojo likes using your title so much precisely because he knows how you react to it. 

“We have to stop doing this,” you tell him, like you tell him every time. “It’s inappropriate.” 

He groans and pushes away from you. You mourn the loss of contact. “Come on, don’t make me do this again. Who cares if it’s inappropriate? Who says?” 

“Dame Zenin thinks we’re too close.” 

“Dame Zenin is an idiot,” Gojo says. “You know she only says that because she wants to get rid of me so you’ll look at Naoya. As if you would ever, even if I was gone.” 

“Still.” 

Gojo grabs your chin in his hand. “You are a princess and I am the only heir to House Gojo. We bow to no one, understand? What right do mice have to judge dragons?”

He’s the dragon, you think. Your crest is the rose. You exist to be judged. That’s the role of a princess. 

Gojo sprawls out on your bed. He’s so tall he takes up more than half of it, even though your bed was built to be more than twice your size. His eyes are shut, his long white lashes soft. He looks gentle in repose, almost like a lamb with his coloring. 

He’s beautiful. He always is. You want to touch, to hold, to claim. You want to press your ear against his chest and steal the thunderous beat of his heart for your own. You want to press your rouged lips to his neck and collarbones, to mark his body with a muted rose. 

Instead, you sit stiff, prim and proper. 

He opens his eyes. “Come here,” he says, his arm reaching for you. You let him pull you closer. 

As always, he has to reach out first. You can’t allow yourself to take what you want. It’s not in your nature, the way you were raised. 

You bury your face into the space between his neck and his shoulder. 

“There we go,” he coos. Your face burns with the condescension of it, the way he treats you like an animal that has to be carefully coaxed closer. But he’s not wrong, and that’s why you let him pet you into submission, gently stroking your sides as he tangles his legs with yours. 

You were never so affected by him as children. Somewhere along the way, Gojo had become unmanageable to you, and you don’t know what to do about it. 

“Stay with me,” he murmurs against your hair. “Where are you going off to in that pretty head of yours?” 

“I’m with you,” you whisper against his neck. “I’m always here.” 

You’ve spoiled him, you think. When you were a child, you didn’t know any better. Gojo was just Gojo. Letting him stay by your side even as you got older was an indulgence that he now pushes the limits of. He’s never cared about propriety. 

“You have to go back to your room now,” you whisper reluctantly. You’re always the more cautious one of your duo. It’s been too long. Someone will become suspicious. For once, you wish you could just let go of your worries, but someone has to check Gojo. If both of you just did whatever you wanted, it’d be the ruin of your houses. This is how it has to be: Gojo pushes and you pull back. 

The dim light of the dying candles make his blue eyes appear black. “Give me something of yours first,” he says. 

You know what he’s asking for. You climb up from the bed and go into your dresser to search, turning up one of your handkerchiefs. It bears the colors of your house and your careful embroidery.

He kneels at your feet. 

“Stop,” you say, trying to pull away. 

Gojo presses a kiss to your hand. His lips are soft against the skin of your hand, temptation incarnate. Your fingers tremble lightly in his grasp, torn between wanting to seize him and wanting to run away. The enormity of your desire for him terrifies you. If you ever let him in for one second, you can see how easy your descent would be. 

“I’m yours, princess. Don’t forget it.” 

With that, he ties your favor around his wrist and finally leaves you to your room, panting like you’d run through the halls. No matter how old you get, Gojo always leads in your interactions. He plays with you, enjoying the way he can make you react to him. 

It’s normal for a princess to visit the training yard, you try to convince yourself the next day. There’s nothing strange about stopping by while you’re on your afternoon walk. After all, you should keep abreast of everything within your castle. 

Gojo stands in the center of the yard. He’s demonstrating one of his self created drills, a complicated set of maneuvers only he can pull off. In short, he’s showing off while pretending like he’s doing the class a favor by trying to teach them something. 

Lord Commander Yaga notices you the moment you set foot in the yard. You should expect it. After all, it’s his territory. 

“Attention,” he bellows. “The princess is here.” 

Gojo perks up and finishes his final set of movements even faster. He throws his sword carelessly to the side, leaving a young squire scrambling to catch the priceless weapon as he strides towards you. 

He’s a little sweaty. You want to wrap your arms around him anyways, but you restrain yourself. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” you say. 

Gojo grins at you. It’s a sharp thing, his smile, hungry and wolfish. “Not at all. I was just thinking of you, my lady.” 

You tilt your head at him curiously. 

Around you, the men are scrambling to line up into neat little rows. 

“I’m picking a squire,” Gojo says. “Would you like to make the decision for me?” 

It’s a question that shocks you. You whirl to look at him again, see if he’s joking like usual, but he seems perfectly serious. “I don’t know anything about knighthood,” you tell him the truth. 

He moves closer. You’re tempted to step back immediately, but you don’t. You don’t want a sign of discomfort to be misinterpreted and used against him. Besides, you relish the proximity. Seeing Gojo in public feels like dancing on blades. The adrenaline terrifies you, but you can’t stop wanting more of it. 

“You may not, but you know people. I trust your judgement.” 

A cursory scan of the boys in front of you reveals little. They’re all stiff and proper, their backs as straight as they can make them. Some stand with their arms glued to their sides, others fidget with their swords. Every single one of them is eager for the chance to be acknowledged by the princess. They’re equally hopeful for the chance to squire for the greatest knight in the kingdom.

None of them catch your eye on the first or second passes. 

Only on the third, a boy with pink hair smiles at you. It’s such a small gesture. But for a boy who had looked just like everyone else at first, the toothy smile splits his features. It opens him up. He looks kind. 

You gesture him forward. 

Lord Commander Yaga nods approvingly. “Itadori is a good one, Your Royal Highness. He’s one of the best in this batch. Naturally strong, but just as hardworking.” 

“See,” Gojo says. “I knew you would choose well.” 

He touches your hand briefly, slipping a white scrap of paper inside your closed fist before he grabs Itadori by the shoulder and hauls him off for further training. Although disappointed, the other squires still look starstruck to be in his presence, though Yaga disperses them all to train themselves soon enough. 

In elegant cursive, Gojo has written a time and place. 

You shouldn’t go. 

You can’t risk it. 

All eyes are on you and Gojo as it is. People already suspect the two of you of something unsavory. Courtly love is one thing, but you and Gojo are too close for an unmarried man and a woman. As a princess, your sole purpose is to marry well and bring alliances to your house. You can’t risk damaging your reputation. 

But every stolen encounter with Gojo steals your breath away. You sneak through the halls, quiet and empty. 

A hand slaps over your mouth before you can scream as someone tugs you into a dark corridor. 

You kick and lash out, forgetting everything Gojo has taught you in favor of blind violence. 

“Shh,” comes a voice in your ear. “It’s just me.” 

You bite him. 

He hisses and pulls back, shaking out his hand. “What’s wrong with you?” 

“Why would you do that? You scared me!” 

“You’re not careful enough, princess. There was a maid coming up on your left that you hadn’t even noticed.” 

You sigh and lean into him. You can’t help it. 

He laughs. “Are you that happy to see me?” 

“If you don’t shut up, I’ll show you exactly how happy I am.” 

“Come on,” he tugs you out towards the gardens. It’s dangerous, but you follow him anyway. Being with Gojo is so threatening not despite his strength, but because of it. You rely on him too easily, trusting him to see you safely through any peril. It’s easy to relax when he’s with you, his presence the promise of security. 

You expect him to tell you why he called you here, but he’s silent when he tugs you down on the bench next to him. 

“Gojo?” 

“Here,” he says, opening his hands. A single crushed violet sits on his palm. You laugh, picking it up and raising to your eye. It’s all the more fragrant because it has been mangled, the delicate petals bruised. 

Gojo’s mouth lifts in a smile, too. “Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t realize.” 

“You really know how to win a girl’s heart,” you tease. 

“Hopefully I know how to win over her father’s, too.”

You freeze. 

“I’m sorry. I can’t wait any longer. I’m going to ask your father to be your dedicated knight tomorrow. Do I have your permission?” 

You hesitate, worrying your lip with your teeth, but Gojo understands. Years of watching after you, bandaging your scrapes that you refuse to cry over or avenging your honor after you pretend your pride hasn’t been hurt has taught him a lot. He can see right through you. You never need to hide when you’re with him. 

“It’s alright,” he says. “We can wait.” 

“It’s not that I don’t want you to be my guard,” you say in a small voice. “I just-” 

“I know,” he says. “But I’m the strongest. Who else would your father ask to protect you but me?” 

“Do you think he’ll say yes?” 

Gojo looks at you seriously. “I’ll get down on both knees and beg him if I have to.” 

“Don’t do that,” you gasp. 

“I don’t care,” he says. “You’re what’s most important to me. More than pride, more than honor. Can I ask your father for you?” 

You look at the crushed violet in your hand. 

Who else but Gojo? 

You press the flower back into his palm. “I trust you to do what’s right.” 

His eyes soften. He leans closer. 

“Gojo,” comes a voice. “What are you doing in the gardens this late at night?” 

You stiffen. The owner of the voice is drawing closer.

“Do you trust me?” Gojo asks, as cool and collected as ever. 

You nod, not trusting your voice not to give you away. He cups your face in his hands and ever so delicately presses a light kiss to your cheek, tilting his head towards you. 

“Stop,” he tells the man behind you. “Don’t come any closer. You’ll scare her.” 

“A new plaything?” Asks the Lord Commander. “I’m not so scary, am I?” 

Gojo notices you tremble harder. He lifts a hand to the back of your head and presses it gently towards his shoulder, obscuring your face even further. “Come here, darling,” he murmurs. “That’s right, what a good little thing,” he says as you press yourself into him. He pulls you over his lap, your legs straddling his waist as he runs his hand up and down your back. “Keep your head down,” he whispers to you. You tuck your face farther into the crook of his neck. 

Louder, he responds to Yaga. “The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard is a terrifying man, or so I’ve heard.” 

“Just escort her to her room when you’re done,” Yaga says gruffly. “I don’t need to tell you to be a gentleman, do I?” 

“No, sir,” Gojo says cheerfully. 

In hindsight, you’re still not sure if Yaga recognized you or not. On one hand, he’s known you since you were a child. He watched, a silent guard, as your father raised you. On the other hand, he’s never brought it up to you. 

The only other reason you suspect he realized who you really were was Gojo’s induction into the kingsguard the very next day. 

[ablobwhowrites]

Welcome to my Masterlist!

PLEASE NOTE! THAT THIS WORK IS FOR ENTERTAINMENT ONLY AND I DO NOT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOR IN REAL LIFE!

DNI LIST: Minors, Homophobes, Transphobes, Proshippers, MAPs, Racists, Ableist, Zionist, Terfs, Z00s (More to be added soon.)

(I'm still adding into this so very sorry if I left a fics, headcanons and ideas out out as this is my first Masterlist so sorry if it's messy, still trying to clean it up.)

Request status: Open✔️

Request rules: No nsfw, No proships, No darkships, male reader or gender neutral reader only. (More to be added if needed)

NEW STUFF UPDATE REPORT: HERE

Yandere DC

Y/n ideas (my random rambles): under construction

Where the first yandere DC idea was made: Here

Detective y/n: First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh, Eighth, Ninth, Tenth, Eleventh

Parent y/n: First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth

Ex villain (jinx) y/n: First, Second, Third, Fourth

Vampire y/n: First, Second

Squirrel hero (squirrel girl) y/n: First

Yandere transformers

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Random yandere stuff: First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth

Yandere dandy's world

random ideas: First, Second

Boxten y/n: First, Second

Toon y/n: First, Second

Yandere splatoon

Idol y/n: First

Random stuff: First, Second, Third

Yandere sonic

Random ideas: First, Second, Third

Yandere Cookie run

Random ideas: First

Y/n cookie: First

Kingdom ruler y/n: First

False ruler y/n: First, Second

Baker y/n: First, Second, Third, Fourth

Compassion soul jam au: First, Second

Yandere squid game

Circle guard y/n: First, Second

Yandere poppy playtime

(platonic only!)

Random ideas: First, Second

New home sweet home au: First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth, Seventh, Eighth, Ninth, Tenth, (redoing this request: Eleventh), Twelveth, Thirteenth

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Yandere pokemon

(POKEMON ARE PLATONIC ONLY!)

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The Nurse: First

MORE TO BE ADDED SOON!

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Dark Embrace

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Summary: Commissioned by Anonymous. When a dragon army kills his father and takes over the kingdom, Dabi and all of his siblings are brought to the throne of the new king. Once there, the monstrous ruler offers Dabi a choice: Become his mate or he will slaughter the former royal line the way he was always taught.

Contents: Fantasy AU, Royalty AU, Dragon!Tomura, Prince!Dabi, Dub-Con, Hypnosis, Soft Mindbreak, Magic, Fuck or Die undertones, Loss of Virginity, Premature Ejaculation, Descriptions of Violence, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex (mentioned), Humiliation, Praise Kink, Corruption Kink, Riding, Mirror Sex, Double Penetration, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Multiple Orgasms, Dacryphilia, Non-Human Genitalia

Word Count: 15,664

Dabi has spent most of his life locked away in his chambers. Ever since he was twelve years old, he was supposed to fully enter his training as a knight, taking the challenge of fighting a wyvern so that he could prove his skills with a sword and with the magic that all of the royal line has been blessed with. But he had been so convinced of the way his father told him his blessings would outpace any other in the kingdom, so sure of himself, that he had gone to find his foe. Alone. He had gone, and he had found a dragon instead of a wyvern and his magic failed him. He burned in the dragon's breath and no one found him for the days that pain and fever wracked his body. He had nearly died dragging himself back to the kingdom and he had been in a coma recovering for three years. It took another eight months after that for him to wake and discover that his father never once came to look for him. That he was no longer the heir. That Fuyumi and Natsuo's magic had been tested in more controlled environments, and while they had an affinity for ice magic, it was so weak that they might as well be commoners in the eyes of their father. The three of them were nothing, but Shoto was a jewel. He seemed to have taken every drop of magic that he and his siblings had been robbed of, and he took it to be better. Better than them, better than their father. He would be the king that this kingdom deserved. That's something that Dabi had been telling himself since he took on that moniker. Enji wanted Toya to disappear, and in exchange for letting him linger in the castle and pursue his own studies, Dabi had been born and locked away in his chambers. Natsuo pursued medicine, Fuyumi learning every subject she was allowed to as she awaited their father to use her like a bargaining chip as the Himuras had done to their mother because there just was no other option open to her. All three of them were supposed to hold out for as long as they could, for as long as it took for Shoto to become king himself. His sixteenth birthday is only two weeks away, that thought rings around in Dabi's head as he scrambles through the castle halls. His heart pounds loudly in his chest, shaking his ribs almost as violently as the stones are shaking as explosions of magic ricochet against the building. Two weeks, two years. Then he would be old enough to take the throne. He would have led a coup if he had to so that none of them would be subject to their father's tyranny a moment longer. 

He wishes that was the battle that was raging through the halls now as he runs with the now unfamiliar weight of a sword in his hand to Fuyumi's room. Her chambers are the closest to his and he needs to protect her from what is happening in the palace, too many dead knights littering the halls as he moves to think that she might be able to fend for herself or be protected the way that she should be. He knows he's right when he hears her scream as a door shatters into a thousand wooden shards as a dragon-woman with bright red hair kicks it in with one strike as he turns the corner. 

"Get away from her!" He couldn't fight a dragon when he still had magic, he knows he has no hope of doing anything but distracting this one so Fuyumi can flee now as he rushes into this foreign woman's space.

"Toya, don't!" He hears Fuyumi's voice from deeper in her chamber, but he can't see her as the sword in his hand begins to glow blue. Then it is violently yanked forward, and he hears his sister cry out too. It takes him a split second for him to realize that they are both trying desperately to dig their heels into the ground as they're tugged, his sword aimed to run her through and continuing to move no matter how much he tries to pull it off course. 

"'Toya'?" The dragon woman says, catching him by the collar and ripping the sword from his hands before he was flung passed her to kill his sister. Dabi chokes as his collar is crushed into his throat. "Really? The disowned prince and the prized princess, oh, that is lucky for me." She throws him into Fuyumi with such force that they both go tumbling to the floor painfully. He knows it hurts, knows that it hurts her too, but the burn of fear pulsing through his veins makes that ache feel distant as he tries to get Fuyumi behind him so that if this monster tries to kill him, she might be able to scramble around and get out of the room before she can pull her war hammer out of his caved-in chest. She levels the weapon at them. "On your feet. The king wants all of the royal line in the throne room." 

"Our father--" 

The woman grins, her teeth-shark-like and vicious, "Oh, princess, I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about the real king. The one who now controls these lands. Now on your feet, or I'll drag you to him by your pretty hair." 

Dabi tries to keep Fuyumi's body shielded from this monster as they both shakily get to their feet. The dragon woman gestures for them to hurry up and they are led through the halls towards the throne room, more of these monstrous foreign soldiers boxing them in and keeping them from running. 

They have all been told all of their lives the horrors that would come for them should war or rebellion ever tear through the walls of their home, so Dabi isn't surprised at all that there are soft tinkling sounds against the stones as they go, his sister so frightened that her tears are freezing as they fall from her cheeks. 

When they arrive in the throne room, Natsuo and Shoto are already kneeling in front of the throne, their father's throne, now drenched in blood with a new monster sitting atop it. He thinks, maybe, that it's his father's body hung on the wall behind it, crucified into place, the head missing because that has been mounted on a spear at the base of the dais. Dabi's stomach rolls more when he sees his other siblings with swords braced against the backs of their necks than he does at seeing their father killed. At least if these new monsters are planning on killing them right away, it might mean that they won't have to endure the tortures that they have been told act as entertainment for the demon king's court. He can only hope that Fuyumi is given the same treatment rather than forced to suffer alone. 

"Got the princess and the spare." The woman who captured them tells the room at large. There are other obvious dragonfolk around. One with green scales, a man with wild brown hair and golden slitted eyes, a young girl with large fangs and hair the color of wheat, and one with a scar splitting his forehead and silver scales spilling out from that point. But the one who is the most obvious, the most powerful, is of course the one sitting on the throne. A man with large leathery wings with scales the same color as the freshly spilled blood around them. His long hair reaches his waist and is stark white that falls in messy, jagged waves that says he has never seen the well-practiced scissors of a proper court stylist. His chest is littered with more of his deep red scales, contrasting his pale skin that is puckered and pocked with scars, all of him that is not bare wrapped in fine dark leather. The harness around his chest accentuates  every hard plain and soft press of muscle as he is relaxed and almost, insultingly, bore-looking on the throne, his legs spread wide and his long spiked tail flicking against the stones like an unsatisfied cat. Black talons curve off of each of his nail beds and the red eyes that look down at them as he and Fuyumi are forced to the floor beside their brothers leaves a rage Dabi didn't know he was capable of simmering in his chest. 

Those slitted red eyes look over the four of them slowly before he deigns to get up, moving down the dais so that he's standing in front of Shoto. "The crown prince," he says before moving down the line, "the healer, the princess, and the... disgraced." The dragon's tail reaches for him, trying to move beneath his chin to make him meet his eyes, and Dabi is too full of that reckless hate to stop himself from opening his mouth and sinking his teeth as hard as he can into the delicate tip. He feels it twitch with surprise and, he hopes, pain as his teeth are met with scales so tough that he has no hope of actually puncturing them with his teeth. But he's not expecting that to make the dragon... laugh. But he does. He leans down and pushes his thumb and forefinger hard into either side of his jaw, the pressure barely stopping the staples from separating at his cheeks, as he forces his jaw open enough that he can slip his tail out. "Well, now I know how you could have survived Destro's attack at such a young age. You truly are a very spirited failure of magic, aren't you?" His voice is not as low as Dabi would have thought it might have been. No, his might actually be lower, but there is a growl to it that makes his bones shudder beneath his skin. 

"Leave my siblings alone." Shoto snarls, trying to move only to have the dragon with the split forehead bring a blow across his shoulders with the flat of his sword, so hard that the impact leaves his brother winded and his knees crack against the stone as he is forced roughly back to it. 

"Keep your mouth shut, crown prince, or I will tear your tongue from it." The dragon crouching before him doesn't even glance his brother's way as he threatens him, his head cocking to the side as he continues to take him in. "Tell me, spare, what did he choose to call you once you were cast aside for your youngest sibling?" 

Dabi can't keep his spine straight with a sword biting cold against the back of his neck, but he manages to glare at the monster in front of him like he has no fear of the darkness it could bring to him in a second. "He chose to never speak to me again. I chose Dabi." 

"Dabi. Cremation." He muses absently. "Did you die all of those years ago, Dabi?" 

He doesn't answer. He felt dead. He's felt dead for a long time. He is not about to let the will that kept him here anyway wane in the face of this monster. 

"What did you do with all of that time as a ghost, Dabi?" When he doesn't answer this time, the dragon doesn't look away from him, doesn't change the inflection of his tone, he simply orders, "break the healer's arm." 

"No!" Fear sparks bright through Dabi's whole body and the dragon raises his hand to stay the violence of his knights stationed at each of their backs. "I-- I read. I studied whatever I could and lived like a monk in my chambers." He forces himself to speak, eyes flicking over to Natsuo who looks even more terrified than he had when they first were brought into this room. 

"That's all? How quaint. Did you hold any love for your father?" 

Dabi doesn't hesitate to answer now, not wanting to see what cruelties this monster will do to his siblings if he does. "No." 

"Oh, really? He let you live. That didn't give you even the slightest flicker of fondness?" 

"No." 

"And what about the crown prince? He was born to replace you. Surely you hold nothing but contempt for him?" 

"No!" The word is vehement and filled with venom. "Shoto is the king that this kingdom deserves and I would have been proud to see him on the throne where he belongs." It breaks something in his chest to say that and he feels pressure behind his seams start to build. But he will not cry. If they are going to be killed, he is going to die with what remains of his dignity intact. 

"'Would'? You're not dead yet, spare." The monster's tail moves languidly along the stone as he rests his elbow on his knee and his chin on his knuckles. "But you see, my father has always taught me that, whenever one conquers a kingdom, the first order of business should be to kill all of the former royals. Every last one. Interrogate the ones who are so scared of pain that they'll give anything to be spared of it, to make sure that there are no secrets that can come back to bite us, and then make sure that the pyre built is so large that not a single person in the kingdom will doubt that the old regime is gone." 

"I'm not afraid of you." Dabi hisses, not sure if it's false bravo or not, but the dragon seems to have ideas about that of his own. 

"No, you're not, and that is what makes you interesting, little ghost. But you are scared of how I could hurt your siblings. I could have them torn apart, piece by piece, until their skin can't be so easily held together like your own." He reaches for him, tracing his fingertip along Dabi's cheek, over the staples, the coolness of his skin and the slight prickle of his talon putting ice in Dabi's gut. "And then I can kill you all. Put your bodies on the pyre with your father's and wipe any record of the Todoroki line from my kingdom." He says it all so easily, like he has done this a thousand times before. Maybe he has. Their father always kept their borders closed so that they would be beholden to no rule but their own. He told stories of the wars fought with the demon king and his draconic armies, but he didn't know just how terrible they would truly be if ever they reached their kingdom. "But today has already been a great success, and I can think of one more that would please me and my own father greatly to add to this. If you wish for the lives of you and your siblings to be spared, you will become my mate." 

Dabi stares at him, and the longer he does, the more self-satisfied the smile on the monster's face becomes. "What?" His throat is hoarse as the word slips from his lips. 

"My mate, consort to the king, my personal whore, whichever title you fancy, little ghost. Be mine, and I will spare your siblings." 

"I-- I'm a man," and then, knowing that there are men who can, he adds, "I can't have children." 

"I'm aware of that and I want no children from you. I simply wish to have you warming my bed." The dragon waits for those words to sink in, but after a long moment he adds, "Well?" 

Dabi's mind whirls, but there is a sword against his neck, against each of his siblings’, and his father's head is on a pike not a meter from where he kneels. He and his siblings will die in this room, they will be hurt before that is allowed to happen if he declines this monster's offer. "No harm is to come to my siblings, not ever. They will live, and you will provide for them, and you will let me see them so I know that they are being cared for well. They will be allowed to pursue their own interests and marry if they choose to." 

"Toya--" he hears Fuyumi's distress. This is a fate that she was told would be hers if ever their castle fell. But he would happily take every torture this monster gives him on his back if it means that he can spare her from it. 

"I want you to enjoy it when I take you to bed. If you don't believe that you can do so on your own, then you will allow my magic into your mind so I can take away those inhibitions. I will have you enthusiastic and hungry for me." 

Dabi's lip curls with his disgust. "If you have to poison my mind to make yourself an attractive bed partner then that is your shame to bare, not mine." 

The monster laughs again, and the smile is bright and warm on his features in a way that he absolutely loathes. "The only shame is that it will be needed at all, but I have a feeling that you are a creature that knows how to hold a very, very long grudge, aren't you, little ghost? What else?" 

Dabi can't believe that he's even being given the chance to negotiate this far, but with his siblings' futures secure he has to think of himself now. "You will not have me harmed, in your bed or outside of it." 

"Outside of it, never, but I do enjoy playing roughly with my toys." He says, his voice a purr. "But I will never beat you until you cannot move, you will not become a eunuch or otherwise permanently physically modified, and I will do no damage to you that will take," he considers, "more than a week to heal." 

Dabi's stomach is sunken and sour, but that seems like the best deal he is going to get from this monster. "...I will be treated well outside of your bed. Able to pursue my studies, provided for the same as my siblings." 

The dragon inclines his head, the large black horns of bone gleaming like jet in the beams of sunset that cast fresh bloody light through the room as it grows darker. "You will never marry or know another touch but my own, and should you or your siblings ever conspire to take back the throne, this deal will be moot, and I will exact every ounce of my bloody revenge on all four of you and any descendants that might have been born in the interceding time." Dabi's heart sinks so heavily, but he just swallows hard. He doesn't know if any of his siblings will ever choose to marry if they are kept political prisoners like this forever, but he knows that there isn't any other option they have right now unless Shoto has enough magic to kill them all quickly enough they don't have to endure this monster's torture. 

"Deal." 

"Deal," the monster purrs, straightening back up. "My name is Tomura Shigaraki, and I look forward to learning every inch of you, mind, body, and soul, Dabi." 

///

After the deal had been struck, he and his siblings were hauled off of the floor and taken from the throne room. Shoto, Natsuo, and Fuyumi were dragged off down a different hallway, but the guard who took him, brought him to a spare room, and locked him inside. That is where he had been left for hours and hours as night fell heavy and black, but the smoke of the pyre outside in the courtyard grew thicker and thicker as every knight, servant, and citizen who had been killed when the castle had been taken was brought to be burned. The smell of it was pungent and had left him vomiting into a vase as he remembered the scent of his own flesh burning as the light of the fire flickered over the walls. He manages a few fitful hours of sleep in a chair, but there was not a second of quiet in the castle once he had been locked in this room. When the sun had risen again, the pyre burned for another hour or two more before it had been extinguished with a wave of magic that had gathered the ash and pieced back together the cracked stone beneath it. Shigaraki's people seem to all have magic, though he guesses that has more to do with the fact that his people are all monsters. 

But over the course of the rest of the day he sees them moving below, bringing things here and there and the dragon king's new servants entering the castle and presumably taking up the positions of everyone who had been killed in the initial attack. It's mid-afternoon before Dabi starts to feel the hollowness in his stomach is hunger and an ache in his bladder that asks to be allowed to relieve himself. It's all hesitation when he goes to the door and tries the handle. It is, unsurprisingly, still locked, but a moment after he tries it, it is unlocked for him and the soldier on the other side in the dark, unfamiliar armor asks what he wants. He has never had to suffer the indignity of asking if he could use the bathroom before, but the soldier, at least, doesn't deny him that, taking him deeper into the castle, to... his father's chambers. Not his father's not anymore. And as they walk, Dabi sees that the cracked stone, the blood that had been soaking into everything, has all been done away with. The castle is pristine again, the only evidence that it was sacked yesterday that the tapestries and portraits of his ancestors have all been removed and replaced with banners of the demon king. 

Dabi cannot claim that he ever had much familiarity with his father's bedroom, but it is clear to him from the moment the guard escorts him inside that this room has been thoroughly changed as well. The bed, for one, is far more lavish than his father would have allowed, with piles of silk, linen, and fur blankets, mounds of pillows, and gauzy silk drapes in a canopy above the four posters that each have a thick leather strap hanging off the edge. He would not have set up a personal desk in this room because he preferred to do his business in his office and only use this room to sleep. The large rug made out of-- Dabi shudders upon seeing it-- another dragon could have been his father's maybe, but he has a feeling that the purple-scaled pelt is something that came from the new king's personal collection. 

The guard locks him in this room with the instruction to bathe and dress in the clothes provided to him by the wardrobe and that a meal will be brought in when it is ready. Dabi does not thank him, eyeing that large bed with a sourness settling deep in his gut. He forces himself to go to the bathing chamber and finds that his assessments about Shigaraki's access to enchanters must have been accurate, because rather than the utilitarian, though still luxurious, copper tubs that have to be filled by servants who bring the boiled water from the kitchens, the one in this room now is large enough for two, set into a dais of its own against the far wall and a window that looks out over the mountains beyond their castle, and it has been spelled so that hot water can be provided with only a turn of a knob. Dabi lets the large tub begin to fill before he goes to relieve himself. 

By the time he is back at the tub, it is only halfway full and he's startled to find an array of soaps and perfumes have materialized along the edge. Soaps for the skin, for the hair, moisturizers for both but one that belongs on the face in particular, and the medical soak that his brother has been making for him for years so that he can keep his seams in a good state. Dabi hesitantly steps into the tub and starts to wash himself, but the soaps don't seem to have any ulterior motive and do not turn to acid when applied to his body. They smell more floral with a smokiness that is a foreign pairing that makes his nose itch a bit, but it is certainly better than having to bathe in the blood of the innocent or whatever other horrors that were told to him in bedtime stories. 

Dabi washes, but he does not linger as his stomach begins to growl. No matter how he feels now, no matter if he is clean enough to the draconic king's specifications or not, it will not matter when he has his magic seeping into his mind. That puts a cold dread in his gut that he cannot let overtake him. He agreed to this, and once the king has had him in whatever ways he chooses, he will demand to see his siblings, provided the state that his body is left in isn't so damaged that he cannot move. He cleans and dries himself before hesitantly going to the wardrobe. He isn't expecting to find it locked when he pulls on the handle the first time, confused because this door doesn't even have a lock. But when he lets go of it, debating putting on his other clothes and asking a guard or servant to open the cabinet for him, the entire door begins to glow. Dabi can't help yelping as a figure of shadow steps out of the door and he hears it unlock behind the specter. 

The shade looks at him and then turns back to the wardrobe, snapping its fingers so that the doors open behind it, another set of arms appearing out of its back as it selects the clothes that the demon king must want for him. Dabi bristles when the shade moves closer and starts to help him dress. His isolation inside of the castle meant that he was taking care of his own tasks, no servants allowed to see to his needs beyond bringing his meals, filling his tub, and washing his clothes as those activities could not be maintained in his own chambers. But he was the one who has been expected to dress himself, clean his rooms, make his bed, and care for himself in that room for years now, and having foreign hands on his body as they bring fine silk around his form is strange and uncomfortable. Though the clothes themselves are equally so as he is given so little to wear. His neck gets a large necklace that looks like a tight metal collar which curves down in a semicircle in the front and back, with an inset piece on the v that is created over his shoulders. That piece is segmented metal that resembles snake, or perhaps more accurately, dragon scales before it ends in a gauzy, see-through silk fabric that has been gathered into it, that curves through the piece on the back as well so that a cape spills down his back and connects to the thick metal cuffs at his wrists that resemble shackles too much for Dabi's liking. The fabric itself is black as night, but the see-through nature of it makes it appear as though he is being lightly embraced by shadows. His chest is left bare otherwise before the shade wraps another of the segmented belts around his waist, a similarly flowy and light skirt made of red silk falling to the floor with splits so high up the sides that Dabi is blushing hotly as he realizes that one breeze or even moving too quickly would have him exposing himself to whoever chooses to look. He wonders if all mates, or only the ones who were obtained through coercion, are forced to wear this in the demon king's domain, but he cannot know and hopes to never learn. If Tomura Shigaraki is the offspring and heir to that throne, Dabi can only ever hope that he does not live long enough to see him take it, for he would never want to force his siblings to follow him to that awful kingdom hidden far from the world they have inhabited up until this point. He is given no shoes, only jewelry crossing over his ankles with fine chains and tinkling rubies, before the shade seems to think that his staples are clashing against the rest of his clothes and waves its hand so that every piece of metal that has been pierced through his skin becomes gold to match. It doesn't feel any different, but the disquieting realization that all of him will be changed for the dragon king's aesthetics puts a fresh stone in his gut. When the shade has determined that he is suitable enough for its master, it steps back into the wardrobe and dissipates, the door locking firmly behind it.

It leaves Dabi standing alone in the room, hating the look of these clothes on his body, and knowing that this is only the first day of the fate that he has resigned himself to until the end of his days or until the dragon gets bored of his company. And how will he not? Dabi burned so young and so badly that he knew he would never take a spouse, even before his father had given him his ultimatum. He was locked away, unable to attend parties, learn about courtship beyond what he read in books or what Fuyumi lamented that she had been taught as their father looked for a beneficial husband for her to take.  he has never known the touch of another, never been kissed, and has had so little contact with those outside of his family that he cannot even begin to contemplate what he should act like if he wants the monster who owns him now to find him alluring and charming. He can't imagine the dragon seeing the swaths of his destroyed skin will do anything to help that. 

But before he can spend too much time contemplating his fate, the door to the chamber unlocks and servants begin to step inside. Real servants this time who bring a solid table and two chairs that are set up over the top of the dragon-skin rug, before another wave of them start to pour in with plate after plate after plate of food. When the last dish has been set down, one of the servants pulls out a chair for him and makes him sit. 

"His Majesty will be with you shortly." She says it as a courtesy that tells Dabi to wait to begin eating even though the hollowness of his stomach seems to be hunger and nausea waring against one another, terrified of what this monstrous king will be like in the privacy of his chambers, but never having gone a day without having a meal when he wanted it since he burned. It's been since early afternoon, hours before the invasion, that he was able to eat anything and he can feel that hunger sitting in his stomach alongside his dread. 

It only takes minutes, Dabi distracting himself from the smell of food all around him by watching how the candles and torches lit around the room are... different now. They cast their light like they have the flickering flames that he has come to expect, but there is no scent of burning, and the wax never drips. More magic, so copious, apparently, among the dragons, that they can use it for the most mundane of things. But all too soon the chamber door opens up and Dabi freezes in place. He isn't sure if he should stand and bow or not. His father expected that from everyone any time he entered a room, but that isn't a custom everywhere. Would not standing be an insult? Would standing show that he is determined to keep the ways of his customs alive and be seen as an act of defiance before he's even given the new king a drop of the service that is supposed to be keeping him and his siblings alive? He can't be sure one way or another and before he can make his decision, Shigaraki is already sliding into his own seat. 

"Do not stand on ceremony, eat when you are hungry, pet. You will never want for anything so long as you are mine."  If he was dressed for conquering a kingdom yesterday, then this must be the dragon's more casual clothing. He is wearing dark trousers of silk himself, the pitchest black in color, with large openings along the sides that expose his thighs to his knees, the pants gathered into a cuff at the ankle and open-toed boots laced up to his calves, the sharp black talons on his fingertips mirrored on his toes. His wings are gone, perhaps folded inside of his body, and his chest is still bare, though today there is a cloak gathered around him, held in place with the demon king's crest over his left shoulder, and otherwise covering his opposite arm and down his back. The crown he wears of black iron is wrapped so securely around his horns and is so organic in its shape, that it almost looks as though thorns have grown out of the bones and tangled themselves in his long hair. He has no weapon on his hip or strapped to his back, but Dabi supposes that he doesn't need one. He has no magic to threaten the other man with, and given the toughness of his scales, he highly doubts that he would ever be able to do damage to him with any of the cutlery that is scattered about the table.

Dabi still hesitates to serve himself before the king has gotten his portion, but he rolls his eyes as he unclasps his cloak and tosses it along the back of his chair, before he snaps his fingers and the dishes begin to serve themselves. The roast duck is cut by knives hanging in mid air, the potatoes, rolls, spring vegetables, and wine are distributed between their plates, and Dabi feels helpless again at the show of power that the dragon displays so casually. 

"Eat." The order comes absent-mindedly as the king takes his own seat, and Dabi forces himself to pick up his fork. He is supposed to eat. He is hungry. But he cannot help the way that it feels like it takes the strength of a hundred men to simply lift his fork from the table. He keeps his eye on his plate, trying to remember all of the table manners that he hasn't had to use in years because he has not been allowed to have his meals in the company of others since he burned. It makes every bite feel like an arduous task, each one with him waiting to discover the food will turn to ash in his mouth or has been made of the flesh of newborns for all of the stories of terrible cruelty he knows about the demon king's armies. 

But if there is deceit to be had here, Dabi is not given a glimpse of it as he continues to methodically eat, still never daring to raise his eyes to the monster sitting across from him. The table he had brought is not for banquets, it's the same size as the one that Dabi had in his chamber before this. It could seat six, though the pair on either of the longer ends would be brushing elbows to fit, and he does not have nearly enough separation from the dragon to not notice him sighing softly before he speaks. 

"I had thought my influence would only be needed when I had you in my bed, but it seems as though you are incapable of even the simplest tasks that might be expected of a mate. Come here, pet." 

Dabi bristles, but this is the bargain he struck. He has to abide by this monster's rules or he will damn his siblings to a fate worse than death. He sets down his fork, wipes his mouth on a napkin to buy him a moment to steady himself, and then rises from his chain and approaches the monster. Shigaraki catches his chin again with his claws and his slitted pupils are a stark black against the otherworldly glow of red that appears around his irises. 

"You will relax. You know that no great harm will come to you if you misspeak. You will entertain me as if you are trying to entertain a suitor." 

Dabi feels the magic slip inside of him like an inky black shadow that wraps around all of the places in his mind that were holding onto his worry so tightly. With those pieces set in shadow, the tension in his body mostly dissipates and leaves a vague confusion in its place as he tries to focus on why he had been so frightened a moment before. "My apologies, your Majesty," A sharper tinge of embarrassment comes over him as the dragon king smiles at him. He has a scar cutting through his lips that looks old and wasn't deep enough to gnarl and twist his smile. "I-- I was never allowed to learn how to be a suitor and my father wouldn't allow me to be courted. I... don't know the etiquette beyond the stories my sister told me." He explains, eyes dropping from his. 

"That is such a shame. You have the loveliest eyes. I have no doubt that if you had been allowed to attend your father's court, someone would have snatched you away long before I could arrive to lay claim to you instead." The dragon lets go of him and gestures for him to retake his seat. "We need not stand on that much ceremony in private. In public you will address me properly, you will kneel at my feet or sit on my lap when I hold court, but here you can speak to me as an equal-- so long as you obey my orders when I deign to give them." 

"Yes, your Majesty." 

"You are my prized pet, little ghost," He says, that almost unsettling smile still in place. "And I think that good pets should call their owners 'master'." 

"Yes, master." Dabi doesn't have words for the relief that goes through him as Shigaraki gestures for him to resume his meal. He had been so terrified just a moment before, but this is much better. Being told exactly how the dragon wants him to act means that he doesn't have to try to tiptoe around things the way that he always had to with his father. There is no guesswork, no magic word or misstep that he might take that will result in the dragon deciding to give him a punishment that he didn't know was even something he should be prepared for. "What happened to my siblings?" 

"Your youngest brother is working in the archives and treasury under supervision until I have the affairs of this kingdom settled. After that I will determine where he is best suited. Your sister is being assessed." That has Dabi tensing but Shigaraki goes on as the table serves him a second glass of wine. "Her chambers were full of books and other materials more befitting a scholar, when interviewed once her nerves had settled, she said she always wanted to be the governess to her own children instead of leaving them to be taught by others. I have one of my scholars seeing if her self-schooling was sufficient. if it was, she will be allowed to start shadowing them and learning how to be a teacher. The availability of education in this kingdom is abysmal and I will have a school house for the commoners built by the end of spring. Having more than one teacher, especially a native to these lands there would be beneficial. Your second brother is already a fine healer and he has returned to his position alongside my own court physician. If you wish to see them, they are all remaining in their chambers when not working." 

Dabi's entire body goes nearly boneless, the seams under his eyes aching badly as pressure builds behind them. 

"What's wrong, little one? I thought this would please you." 

"I--" he takes a breath, trying to keep those tears from falling. "I am. I was.... scared that you might not keep your word." 

"You will learn quickly, pet, that I always keep my word." He gives Dabi a moment to recompose himself as they eat, and then asks, "What did you do in your exile?" 

"...Studied." 

"What?" 

"Anything. I read almost all hours of the day." 

"What did you read about my father's empire, pet?" 

Dabi hesitates, but Shigaraki's expression is patient, his eyes gentle instead of sharp the way that politicians' and courtiers' were when they used to speak to him when he was young. "That his lands are full of horrors and violence, but the texts I could access here only ever knew of them in the aftermath of the wars that would ravage border villages. I don't... want to believe that what your people do during a war is all that they are."

"They are not. You will know more of our culture the longer we spend together, my pet, and you will learn to enjoy it on your own, so deeply, that I will never have to reach into your mind to make you sure of that again." 

Dabi doesn't know what to say to that, so he chooses to say nothing as they return to their food. When they've finished eating, Shigaraki stands from the table and moves around to Dabi's side, catching his chin again and making him look up. 

His smile is already satisfied and sweet when it comes. "You were not allowed to court or be courted, so I suppose that means you have no experiences with pleasures of the flesh?" 

Dabi feels his face heat, his nails biting into the meat of his palms as nervous anticipation spikes through every inch of his veins. "...No, master." 

"Never been kissed?" He asks and Dabi only manages to weakly shake his head. "Never been touched?" He shakes his head again. "What of your own hands, wandering in the dark, staining your sheets?" The words come as a purr that makes something... else tingle through his body that he doesn't recognize. 

He is certain that he's blushing the same color as the dragon's scales. "...No, master." 

That smile widens further. "Then it will be a very special privilege to have you as my mate." He says, leaning down. Dabi's whole body goes hot with anticipation, but the dragon only presses his lips very lightly to the corner of Dabi's own. "I can't wait to see how exquisite you are as you unravel, pet." 

He knows that the dragon sees it when his throat bobs as he tries to swallow, but he can't make himself say anything in response. 

"Not tonight, pet, but soon. Tonight, I want a good night's sleep and your body warming my sheets. Entertain yourself as I bathe." 

"Yes, master." 

Shigaraki lets go of his chin and goes into the bath chamber and the inkiness that blanketed his mind slips away. And the fear rushes back in, the indignance, the anger. Dabi is left sitting at the dinner table, trembling with his humiliation as he realizes that those things he'd been thinking, the reactions he'd had, while they still feel like him, they aren't what he would have thought or said if the dragon hadn't influenced him. Is that how it's going to feel when he takes him to bed properly for the first time? Will he be as embarrassed as he felt a moment ago without the disgust and rage that sits in his gut from the reality of having sold himself into this life? That puts bile on the back of his tongue and Dabi snatches the wine bottle from the table's clutches and tips it to his lips. He has never drunk so heavily in his rooms in all of the time since he was disowned, but he drinks and drinks now, until his stomach is sloshing and the contents of the bottle go dry. If he is not going to be in his right mind for any of this, then he might as well get to choose the way that he is left mentally incapacitated. Two frustrated bloody tears slip down his cheeks, but he wipes them away quickly and throws the napkin in the fire that has roared to life to heat the chamber. He is already giving up so much of his mind to this monster. He will not give him any other evidence of his weakness. 

When Shigaraki returns from the bath he is entirely naked, his wings spread from his back now and nearly scandalizing Dabi with his nudity. 'Nearly' because the dragon has scales that run over his shoulders, down his back to his tail, and along his lower stomach, over his pelvis, and down the inner part of his thighs. Those scales are fine and red but the ones over his pelvis are the same pale color as the rest of his skin and they completely conceal the other's genitals. He makes Dabi strip out of all of his clothes as well, and he's not sure if it's the alcohol or magic that make his head feel floaty and his body hot as he strips down to nothing too. He is squirming though when the dragon surveys his form before smiling again and making him get into the large bed.

It's large enough that he thought he might be able to scooch away from him and sleep, but as soon as they're both beneath the thick blankets, Shigaraki is pulling him close. He doesn't let his hands wander, he just wraps him in his arms and then encircles both of their bodies with his large... soft wings. It takes a few minutes of being enveloped in the dark and cool of the other's embrace before the wine makes his head feel so heavy that he has no choice but to close his eyes. 

He didn't realize how exhausted he was until sleep comes so heavily for him. 

///

The next day Dabi is allowed to walk the castle wherever he chooses. He hasn't been allowed to do that since he was a child, and oftentimes he finds himself unable to tell if things changed because of the new regime in place or if there were renovations while he was locked away in his room. He is able to go to his sister's room and the guards stationed at her door let him inside. Anything she might use to hurt herself has been removed from the room, even the sheets from her bed have been replaced by thick pelts that it would be nearly impossible to tie a noose with. She bursts into tears as soon as she sees him, but she assures him again and again that no one has touched or harmed her since they were separated the day before last. She begs him to get himself out of being this new monster's mate, but Dabi immediately snarls at her to keep words like that out of her mouth. He will not have her or their brothers proposing treason. 

"If Shigaraki doesn't torture and kill us all outright, he will make me watch as he torments and kills you and then he will take what he wants from my body instead. I would rather choose my place in his bed than be forced into it and without the protections that his deal has awarded all of us." 

It does not keep his sister from weeping with deep, wracking sobs, but it does manage to make the resolve that Dabi had not felt even when he made the deal solidify. This is the best that they could hope for and he will not risk his sibling's safety rebelling against it. 

That night he has dinner with the dragon again and it feels like it takes a little less of that soft darkness in his mind to help drown out his fear of speaking to him. 

"Why take a disgraced, foreign prince as your mate? Surely there are plenty of candidates in your own kingdom who could capture your interest." 

"There have been," the dragon says, his amusement clear. Dabi doesn't know how they got fish at this time of year when all of the lakes and streams running through the mountain should still be frozen, but he is picking at the dish, mostly focusing on the bread and greens that have been served as sides. That look tells him he hasn't been as subtle about his dislike of their main course as he'd hoped he'd been. "And I have enjoyed their company immensely. But suitors from my father's kingdom come with strings attached that I do not always want to step through when I am trying to find someone to share my time and heart with. I always intended to take a mate from somewhere outside of my kingdom, and the disgraced foreign prince who chose to bite me instead of accepting his fate passively, was far too appealing to throw away without at least giving him a chance." 

Dabi bites his tongue to keep himself from being outrightly rude, but he doesn't ask about things like that anymore. Shigaraki lets him eat more bread and calls for dessert unlike the day before, and the sweet fruit tart with fresh whipped cream and honey fills his stomach far better than the fish could have. He is already hoping that they will just sleep again when Shigaraki pushes his chair out and gestures for him to come closer. 

Dabi feels that barrier of magic trying to soothe away the disgust and anger, stealing it away and leaving only a squirming embarrassment in his gut as he stands and makes himself walk to the other man. Shigaraki wraps his hands around his hips, his thumbs rubbing over the jut of bone there before he gently lowers him until he's perched in the dragon's lap. Shigaraki's tail moves then, curling so that it is pressed along the small of Dabi's back, keeping him in place as his hands start to wander. His palms are cool against him, and Dabi can't help but shiver even as his blush is hot across his skin. His nipples pebble immediately at the cool touch, and Shigaraki brings his hands along his pecks, teasing at them until there is something else sparking across his nerves that makes his breath a little more shallow. His knuckles trace along the seam of his collarbone, tease over the one that curves across his stomach, and then dips down to his split skirt so that he can thumb over the ones that curve around his thighs. 

He is starting to tremble slightly, anticipating the touches going... other places, when Shigaraki smiles at him. "Dip your head, pet. I think it's time you had your first kiss." 

Making him lean in to accept the kiss makes something rattle against the soft dark in the part of his mind that has been taken away from him. The rest of him is just even warmer with his embarrassment as he doesn't know if he's supposed to pucker his lips or if he should move them at all when he leans closer. Shigaraki's hand comes up to cup the back of his neck and gently coaxes him to tilt his head to the side. Then he moves in the rest of the way and presses his chapped, cool lips against Dabi's own. Dabi sees a brighter amusement in Shigaraki's eyes as the contact simply is for a few long seconds before he pulls away.

"Close your eyes and relax, pet. I'll show you how to feel good." 

Dabi's eyes fall shut immediately, his blush hot under his skin, but he accepts the instructions without a fight. Shigaraki leans in again and kisses him. This time his lips don't just press, they move. It's gentle, slow, but they move, making Dabi's mirror the motions, and then flicking his tongue along the seam of them. Dabi can't help the gasp that slips out of his, but when they part for the sound, Shigaraki's tongue moves inside. He hears a soft sound come out of his throat that might have been a whimper, but he doesn't manage to make another before his tongue is brushing against his own. Shigaraki's mouth tastes like the sweet tart they shared as his tongue presses inside, finding places that have never been touched by another person in Dabi's life, and giving him sensations, like the hands that continue to wander his skin so slowly and teasingly, that he hasn't ever had before either. Each one makes a heat start to unfurl inside of him that he only has the memory of. Echoes of it that he often woke up to, either with his prick hard and dripping in his sleep clothes, or spent and sticky when his dreams of nebulous pleasure unfolded in his sleep. But it's not a sensation that he's ever felt bloom inside of him while he's still awake and Dabi is left panting weakly against Tomura's mouth as he kisses him and kisses him, never parting for long enough for him to fully catch his breath. 

The dragon only lets up with a purr when Dabi realizes that these new sensations and the memory his body has of pleasure in his sleep has started to rouse his prick, making it ache weakly and press a half-formed tent into the folds of his thin skirt. Shigaraki pulls away from his lips then, that same self-satisfied smile on his face that makes the warmth of embarrassment under his skin feel like that other kind of warmth too. 

"There," he strokes his knuckles along the seam of his cheek. "Already proving that I made the right choice, little ghost. You are going to be so receptive of my touches that someday you won't ever be able to understand why you didn't want them. And I will give them to you whenever you ask. I'll teach you how to enjoy pleasures so great and pain so sweet that you'll long for nothing else." 

But he doesn't give him what he is promising now. Instead he makes him disrobe and ready for bed, and only holds him closely until he falls asleep again.

/// 

Dabi is disgusted with himself the next morning when he wakes alone, but each night when Shigaraki returns, that softness spills through his mind. In those softer moments, his body warms as he looks at the draconic king. Every inch of him screams of the power that is set into his form, and every touch he deigns to give him leaves his body craving more. Dabi doesn't think his need has been so high since he was a teenager and no matter how he considers trying to take away that edge of arousal by... touching himself when the dragon leaves him to his own devices, but he can't bring himself to. The humiliation that he feels over the month that passes from the takeover robs him of the ability of satisfying himself without the dragon's permission. 

So for a month he lives mostly in this chamber, though he is able to visit his siblings who are being looked after, and walk the castle grounds when he chooses. He still feels like a specter haunting the halls when he does, but he doesn't know if he will ever feel alive again without Shigaraki's influence in his mind and his hands on his body. A month of only being given sweet kisses and light caresses with the knowledge that the monster will hurt him when he wants to because he wouldn't even pretend otherwise when negotiating to have him as a mate. All of those things live in the back of his mind, but they are locked away when he wakes one night, his dreams having been filled with hot kisses and cool hands touching every sensitive part of his skin, his prick aching as he had been so close to his satisfaction only for his waking to rob him of it. 

Dabi lets out a frustrated sob as his body aches and Shigaraki purrs, his tail circling around one of his thighs as he makes him spread his legs, opening his wings so that he can see him more clearly from the light that is filtering in from the moon beyond the windows. "Look at you, pet." He runs his knuckles along the underside of him, the light sensation enough to have his hips trying to move on instinct to get more. "All you have to do is ask, and I will give you the pleasures that being a mate can offer." 

And with the heaviness in his mind, not knowing if there is marriage or any other custom that he should ask for from this monster before he gives up his virtue, with such sharp desperation clinging to his nerves, he can't do anything but sob weakly and beg, "Please, please, master! I want it to feel good, please!" 

Shigaraki's wings flare out as he rolls Dabi's body onto his back, pinning him beneath his bulk as his tail yanks his thighs wider roughly. His eyes are glowing in the dark and his hands are so sure now. They aren't feather-light and teasing the way that they have been before. They are firm as they wrap around his body. They hold him tightly, and stroke over his skin wherever he chooses. He cups his chest, pinching at his nipples until the buds are pert and aching like a new special type of bruise beneath his skin that makes his sensitive cock drip where its trapped between their stomachs, while making blood bead up past his seams and drip along his cheeks as he whimpers and moans. Shigaraki's mouth full of sharp teeth descends on his own and these kisses are frantic and hard, making blood bloom between their lips that the monster devours voraciously before he is trailing lower so that every inch of his neck can be claimed by rings of his teeth and not just the collar that he has around his neck each day he belongs to this monster. 

Dabi only manages a mortified squeak when Shigaraki's tail moves from his thigh to between his legs. Not at the front, where his pleasure is centered, but behind him, the tip flicking around his hole that he has never had touched by another. But before he can gather his breath to ask to slow down, to beg to know how... two men are even supposed to copulate, Shigaraki is shifting above him. He hadn't even gotten a moment to wonder how he would use his body when he doesn't even have his genitals visible, but he doesn't need to voice that concern anymore. His breath is caught entirely in his throat as he sees that there is a slit appearing on Tomura's pelvis, the scales splitting along an invisible seam and dripping fluid that his tail rubs against to gather, before he sees two heads starting to emerge from that slit. Dabi whimpers, trepidation and arousal both singing through his veins that must amuse his master because he chuckles as he hears it. 

"Oh, precious, you have been teasing me with your warmth so badly." He says with a purr, "but now I'll know every inch of it. You will be full of me and I will make certain that your body craves nothing else for all of your days. You will be my perfect mate, and such a lovely set of holes for me to defile as I please. From a prince, to a ghost, to the whore of the king, and of the three it is the last that will give you more status than any circumstances of your birth ever could." He speaks and his hands grope across Dabi's body, pressing against seams in a way that sparks pain beneath his skin the same flavor as his sore chest is pulsing with, and the words push against the soft darkness of his mind and the neediness that is aching through his more immediate thoughts. His wet tail goes back to his hole, rubbing around it with its slickness, and before he can get enough breath to speak again, his master has pushed the first inch of it inside, making his muscles burn as they are stretched in such a foreign way. But that stretch feeds into the roughness and pleasure of the other touches too quickly and Dabi cries out loudly, shock, pleasure, and humiliation cresting through him as the touch makes his prick pulse as his balls draw tight and he spills his seed all over his stomach. He hasn't ever had the pleasure of an orgasm while awake before, and Dabi doesn't know if his mind will ever feel whole again as he is blinded by the stars that dance across his vision as he moans and sobs beneath the dragon. 

The laughter that rings through his ears as he starts to come down from that high that has left his body shaking against the sheets has fresher tears on his cheeks. But Shigaraki catches his chin in a firm hold as he leans down to lick them away from his skin. "Oh, little one, you're so cute when lost in the throes of your pleasure. Going to be even cuter when I see you shatter around my cocks." 

Dabi can barely get his mind around the possibility of more when the other seems to determine the cursory stretching that he's done is enough, and he removes his tail from his body. Dabi whimpers, and he feels a sharp absence of emotion that he thinks his mind wants to reach for now, but Shigaraki kisses him to take his thoughts away from it. His other hand goes to his prick again and he starts to touch him, making Dabi's nerves sting and fresh tears trickle down his cheeks as he's held in place beneath him, unable to squirm, as the head of his first, thick, hard cock presses wetly between his cheeks. He lets out another weak gasp, unable to find a way to make his tongue more coherent, as he starts to push inside. The stretch is blinding, his whole body seizing up from the way that it fills him so completely and takes away any other thought in his mind. He's left just gasping and sobbing against the sheets as he's made more and more open for the dragon's first cock. 

"That's it, pet, you can take it," he coos at him, leaning in to kiss and lick away the bloody tears falling over his cheeks. "It will feel so good if you let it. You just have to let it, sweet one." 

Dabi feels that big inky darkness struggling to contain his thoughts the same way that his body struggles to take in his master's cock for the first time. He feels that darkness begging him to just let it take over, to make the sharp thing with knives behind it go quiet, and Dabi knows, deep down, that he should keep fighting it. That the thing with knives and teeth behind that thick, dark curtain is him, even if it feels so foreign to him right now. But as Shigaraki slows, pressing more kisses to his lips, as he coos, 

"That's it, beautiful, you opened up so well for me. I can't believe that your fool of a father thought that no one else would want you when you are the greatest treasure I've taken from this kingdom," 

He hears the words, knows they're false, knows the stings of pain and the whorls of pleasure are not things he would have chosen for himself without that soft, velvet dark of the curtain in his mind telling him that he would be soft too if he accepted it. He knows, but cannot touch the wild, furious thing that claws and bites and that he knows makes him feel worse when he spends time outside of his master's company. So he turns away from that dark, letting it envelope and smother so he can reach out to the space that is actually between him and his master. He wraps his arms around his neck, spreads his thighs wider and gives himself over to whatever pleasures and pains that his mate will give him now that he is owning his body the way that Dabi pledged himself to. 

Tomura purrs at him again, kissing him so sweetly as he strokes Dabi's prick with his hand until he's aching again as his thrusts stroke his walls with his cock. He does it over and over again, kissing away the tears that blend pleasure and foreign sorrow together, until he can't tell one from the other again. He can't tell up from down when his second orgasm comes and Tomura reaches his first before he takes his first cock out of Dabi's body and presses the second in again, resuming the movements between his thighs until they are both unraveling again. 

He holds Dabi throughout the rest of the night, kissing his skin so sweetly, but in the morning, he wakes alone with the curtain torn down, blood crusted along his neck from the places that Shigaraki's teeth nicked his skin, and their fluids dry and tacky on his body. He sits up in the bed and cries for so many hours his seams are horribly swollen and he has to go to Natsuo for fresh medicine. Thankfully, his brother thinks that he's such a wreck because the dragon king must have done something horrible to him, and Dabi doesn't have to tell him that even in the cold light of day, he can't take how the soreness in his body is leaving him warm with the remembrance of how good he had felt in the soft dark of night. 

///

Once Shigaraki has had him for the first time, he doesn't hesitate to take him again. He has him spread open on their bed, his head between his legs as he shows him how dexterous his tongue can be, teaching Dabi how to move his so that when he has him on his knees for the first time, in the throne room as he conducts court, he isn't embarrassing himself as badly as he might otherwise, as he gets more familiar with his master's cocks and the position of being his good pet. Tomura has him bent over, a pillow beneath his hips that he absolutely ruins with his cum as his master shows him that his body is pliant enough to take both of his cocks deep inside of him, and that he can be pumped so full of his mate's cum that he feels it start to distend his lower stomach.

It has been around a year of being taken nearly every night in so many positions that Dabi marvels at how human, demon, and draconic kind have ever been able to get anything done when they seem bound and determined to use every second of their lives to find new ways of fornicating, before he comes back from a walk around the grounds and finds their bedchambers have been modified. He is used to Tomura changing things here and there. Sometimes it is for his own benefit, putting a custom made desk in this room so that he can sit and do paperwork as Dabi is curled up on the soft mattress beneath it where he is expected to warm his cocks until he deigns to have more. The window seat and reading nook that he had built into one of the windows, replacing the frame as well to give Dabi more light and a cozy place to read or sun himself like a cat whenever he chose to, was a modification he never asked for and one he refused to use for six months out of sheer stubbornness. But when he had finally let himself enjoy the things that his master offered him, he realized that Tomura was always looking for ways to make this bargain something that Dabi might come to someday... enjoy rather than leaving him only grappling with the absence of his magical influence when they were apart. The dragon may not have claimed him through a proper courtship, and certainly not in anything that Dabi would describe as good circumstances, but he can't help but notice that the things he has chosen to give him in the aftermath do feel an awful lot like the things that Fuyumi said that the ladies of the court often talked about receiving from their husbands if their marriage was arranged and they were unable to meet the man before the day of the wedding itself. Husbands who tried to play catch-up as they truly attempted to make their new brides happy even though they hadn't had the opportunity to be sure they would be pleased with the match beforehand. He was not happy to say that the way the dragon always perked up when he would seek out his company or use the things that he brought him had started to warm him to the monster even when they were apart and his magic wasn't so thick in his mind. But Shigaraki wants him, he has made that very clear, and he wants Dabi to at the very least be content in the new world that he has found himself in. So when he gets back to the room and sees that the silks draped above their bed have been removed and that there is a large... mirror in place above the bed, and doesn't know how he might have ever implied that would be something he would want, he has to assume that this modification is for the king instead. He's certain he'll learn about the purpose of it later, and that is encouragement enough to go to the bath. 

Shigaraki is sharp everywhere. The soft, smooth scales that litter his body are only soft in one direction, and movement against the grain can chafe and cut. Only the last two inches of his tail are unspiked and can be pushed inside of him, and his fingers are tipped in sharp black claws that have a vein inside and bleed and hurt badly if he tries to cut them, though he does attempt to keep them blunt enough that he doesn't rend Dabi's flesh completely when they are tangled together in their sheets. Even the edge of his wings can cut the skin like a razor if touched carelessly. So Dabi has discovered that warm baths and working his own fingers inside of himself to loosen his muscles, or wearing the heavy plug that keeps his insides stretched, can be the best way to ensure that they are both comfortable and enthralled with their pleasure the whole time if his mate wants to have both of his cocks in him at the same time. Dabi isn't certain that he will tonight, but if he's already gotten something special prepared, then he decides that he too would like to make his own preparations.

His body warms with anticipation as he brings his fingers inside of himself as he relaxes in the hot water of the bath, four inside of him and his lower lip between his teeth as his prick aches. He is allowed any pleasures that he wants when he is tangled with his mate's body, but he isn't allowed to cum alone, so his prick strains and reddens, but he doesn't dare touch himself there as he readies his body. He isn't sure if Tomura has some enchantment on the door that tells him that Dabi has returned to their room, or if he was so eager for whatever he has planned that he simply couldn't wait to have Dabi as soon as he could get him. But he has four fingers inside of himself when Tomura comes into the bathroom and his wings flair, his tail flicking, the sharp pupils of his eyes rounding out considerably like a cat that has spotted a patch of its favorite grass when he finds him in the tub. Dabi's body was already warming, but that look, the presence of his master, it has him moaning softly as he feels his mind wrapped in that velvet darkness again that takes away any twinge of nervous anticipation that he had before. 

"Oh, my love," those words are becoming more frequent the longer that this goes on, and Dabi, with the curtain or without, still doesn't know what to make of them. He just knows that Tomura no longer calls him a ghost because Dabi doesn't feel like the walking dead in or outside of his sheets anymore. "You have trained yourself so perfectly for me." He praises as he comes over to the tub. Dabi was already feeling so good, but with the softness of his mind now, he has to fight the urge to push his fingers in deeper and stroke the place inside of him that makes his whole body burn when his orgasm crashes through him. But Tomura comes right up to the edge of the tub and leans down. Dabi takes his fingers from his body, instead wrapping his arms around Tomura's neck as he captures him in a kiss that is already heavy with hunger, before he reaches into the water and lifts Dabi out, not caring at all as the water sloughs from his skin and drenches him and their floor. 

He is still kissing him as he takes him to their bed, letting Dabi soak the sheets too as he is set down before Tomura reaches for the clasps that keep his armor and clothes in place. The fabric smacks against the floor as it slips from his body and Dabi starts to scoot back on the bed, meaning to lean against the pillows and push his fingers back inside as he sees his lover's slit is already parting with his arousal and he's certain that he will be made far more satisfyingly full in a short while. But Tomura clicks his tongue as he climbs into the bed with him, his wings flaring out behind him. 

"Not like that today, pet." He purrs and then Dabi hears a snapping sound that had terrified him the first time it rang against his ears. Now he can't help how his breath catches in his throat as Tomura uses his tail to tilt his chin up so he can watch as his lover's wings spread and click, the joints sinking back inside of themselves and the skin of his back opening to accept them as he takes them back inside of his body. Dabi is breathless, and he thinks that he might have been disgusted at one point, as he watches the dragon's body perform feats of magic so mundane to it, but so fantastical to him. He used to be able to command fire so hot that it burned as brightly as the sky on a sunny day, but this is something that Tomura is capable of with the same matter-of-factness as breathing.

When his wings have been put away, already a rarity in their bed when Dabi has learned that rubbing along the points where they connect to his back can bring his lover to orgasm as surely as Dabi's body can be if Tomura wraps his lips around his nipples until they're sore and swollen for days, before he shifts. Dabi is made to kneel to the side as he lays down, careless of the damp on the bed, the length of his body on display to him like this and reflected in the mirror. Dabi's body only heats further, expecting that he will be lowering his head to his cocks as they emerge and getting to stretch his jaw until his staples pull, but he's stopped again when he starts to move. 

"Come here, sapphire." 

Dabi's cheeks heat, but he moves anyway. It had taken barely a year before Tomura had started calling him that, saying that he was 'the jewel of his kingdom' and making sure that everyone knew it. But he moves, taking the coaxing until he is trembling with his nervousness and embarrassment as he is perched over the other. He doesn't often end up on top of him, but he knows from the few times that he has, that this is one of the positions that make his already thick cocks feel even bigger and reach even more deeply inside of him than they already do. 

"That's it, precious." He says so sweetly as he steadies him with his hands on his hips. "When I have you with me in bed like this, how do you feel?" 

"Good, master," he says immediately, the evidence of that plain from how he hasn't softened at all since his master walked in on him in the bath. Every one of his master's touches, even the ones that sometimes draw blood, always leave his body feeling so good. 

Tomura reaches up with one hand, cupping his cheek against his palm and stroking along the seam against his cheek. "And what about when I'm gone, love? How do you feel then?" 

Dabi's lips pull into a soft frown. He knows he feels other things when the curtain isn't soft and warm around his mind. But when that is in place he doesn't have the words to even say what it is. "... I don't know, master." 

The smile that he gets from Tomura now is... different from the other ones that he's grown so accustomed to. It makes something squirm in his stomach that is softened by the darkness. "I want you to." He says, his hand so gentle on his cheek. "So I brought this mirror from my collection. It will let you see both parts of yourself, love. I want you to see how beautiful you are when you're broken with pleasure, precious. I want you to know, and then, if you decide that it isn't something you can keep, then I will take it away again." 

Dabi doesn't know if he understands completely, but he knows that his master only ever does things to make him happy. He will take this strangeness if it means that he is going to feel good again, and he wants to when his lover's body is right there and his own is so ready for him. "... Okay, master." 

That smile is still puzzling to him, but he leans up so that he can catch Dabi's lips in a slow, hot kiss that has him moaning so quickly. His hands start to move along his body, over his chest, down the planes of his stomach, along his thighs as he spreads them open wider before he coaxes Dabi's hips against his. It makes him breathless when he's allowed to rub his prick through the slick that is dripping from Tomura's sheath as his cocks start to press out. It's such an indulgence to let him rut like this as though he might ever know the way a warm, wet cunt could feel, as his lover lets him chase sharp pleasure of his own as his body warms for him. He is left moaning and trembling more though when his cocks are both out and Tomura reaches for them, taking all three in his palm as best he can and stroking them. He's soaking from the fluids of his body, but Dabi is already dripping pre badly from how high he worked himself up in the tub and every moan that comes out of him as he ruts into the touch like he's nothing but a needy, misbehaving pet only makes his pleasure creep higher. 

Tomura is definitely bound and determined to spoil him today because he keeps working his hand over their cocks until Dabi can't help it, and he's spilling against their skin as he's allowed to move at whatever pace feels good for him. He's still shaking from how good his orgasm feels when Tomura lets go, leaning up so that he can press kisses along his collarbone, up his neck, and over his panting mouth as he gets Dabi's legs spread and braced on the bed at either side of his lover's hips. He has him put his hands behind him, balancing his weight on the bed so his hips can be angled forward and his head can loll back so he can look at himself in the mirror. 

It's like the thick velvet curtain has turned into the same see-through black fabric of his cape. He can see himself in the mirror. Can see through to the emotions that he would have if he weren't separated from then by that veil of magic. The sex still feels good. He has stopped denying that truth long ago. But seeing himself, his face hazy and his pupils blown from how deeply the lust has reached inside of his mind, he knows that this is different. Knows that the him in the mirror, the him without Tomura around, would never be anything but humiliated to find his body made such a needy receptacle for pleasure. But it is the him that is always with Tomura, the him who is hazy, trusting, loved, who follows his master's guiding hands and angles his hips the way he wants. It's that him who asks the reflection why they have to be resentful or scared still when this all feels so, so good. 

Dabi throws his head back and hopes his reflection is watching as he moans so loudly as he lets himself start to sink down on their lover's cocks. He doesn't need to take them one at a time now, not when he was prepared for two. He prepared himself for two before Tomura came to find him. That him that is behind the veil now knows as well as he does that he is made to bring them both this pleasure. So why should he try to shy away from it now? He doesn't want to. He wants to feel good. He wants to look up at the mirror not to find echoes of emotions that don't matter to him now, but to enjoy the sight of his body stretching open for his lover. He just wants to be breathless with his pleasure as his spent cock begs to fill again as he sinks lower and lower until he is flush with his master's pelvis and his whole body is thrumming with pleasure. 

"That's it, little one," Tomura purrs, his tail swishing against the sheets and his hands helping to keep Dabi steady as his walls pulse from the stretch that they're being made to endure fresh. "So beautiful, all lost in your lust." He means every word. Tomura's eyes on him, his praise, his adoration that he gives to him so freely no matter where they are in the castle, has made Dabi more than a mistake that didn't have the good grace to die. He made him desirable, beautiful, exalted. Tomura put the curtain up in his mind so that he could fall in love with the way he could make his body feel, fall in love with the softness that he can give as freely as he gives punishments and cruelty to those who have earned them, without his fear and resentment holding so much sway in his mind. He gave him kindnesses unheard of from a conquering king as he lets his siblings live their lives, as their citizens thrive under his new rule, as he asked him to try to just open his heart and mind to the possibility of being... happy. Not just in his ownership, but for the first time in his life since he burned. Tomura gave him so many opportunities, and he recognizes the mirror as another one. An offer to take away the curtain and let him be completely and wholly himself. 

He thinks it's the him beyond the veil that is the one who starts to cry, but he turns that ache in his chest sweeter as he rocks down, his muscles already shaking as he brings himself along his lover's cocks. He is the one who is moaning as his whole body is soaked with heat as he is filled even more deeply as Tomura starts to move with him, rocking up into him so that he can reach even deeper inside. It makes pleasure rocket up his spine, leaving tears dripping off his cheeks and his mouth hanging open around the sounds that spill from his lips. How could he still have a part of him inside that resents this? He would let his lover chain him to the bed and leave it for nothing but bathing if he had his choice. After a life denied pleasure, after a decade alone and in pain just hoping that he would somehow get to have a life that was passable at best, he is being given this. He should be thanking Tomura every day until he's cut his tongue open on his teeth for how grateful he is to be able to live like this now. He watches their bodies move in the mirror and feels the softness of the veil and through that pleasure he does find a twinge of resentment. Not for Tomura, but for the trepidation that he can still hold beyond it. He shifts, bringing his weight more fully over his lover as he fumbles to reach for a glass that is set on their nightstand. 

It's only because his mate knows him so well that he sits up, still helping him to move his cocks inside of him, as Dabi throws the glass at the ceiling. Tomura's wings are around them before it impacts the mirror and has glass raining down over their bodies, every shard shattering further and bouncing harmlessly off of Tomura's wings as it does. And then the world of his mind is soft and dark again. Dabi is fully in Tomura's arms, fully pressed as closely together as their bodies can be, and he manages to say the words that he has been denying have been sitting in his chest for weeks now. 

It's his hands on his lover's cheeks, his strength pulling their lips together as he sobs, "I love you, I love you, I love you." 

But it's Tomura's purrs that make his entire body rattle as he flicks a hand to banish the glass from their bed before he has him on his back, fucking his body so much harder and deeper than Dabi could manage in the previous position. He's the one who always makes him feel so good that Dabi is scared that he might come apart at the seams if he is forced to sustain such wonderful sensations for too long. He keeps pulling at his lover, trying to get him even closer, not wanting to part their lips, but having to between moans and sobs and both of their words as Tomura reassures him, 

"My mate, my sapphire, my love. Mine, from now until the end of days. Not even death will part you from my side."

Dabi didn't know that he could fall apart so many times in one night, but it takes the heavy blackness of exhaustion washing over his eyes to actually make him stop trying to get more kisses and sweet touches against his skin. 

///

It has been five years since the rule of the Todoroki line has come to an end. Fuyumi has been a teacher for three now, Natsuo is still learning how to administer medicine to a people so imbued with magic, and Shoto is receiving warrior training from the draconic armies, halfway through a proper courtship with one of his classmates, leaving him with a draconic mate of his own. Dabi is the king's prized pet. People bow to him when he passes them in the halls, and he knows all the business of the kingdom and is allowed to offer his master counsel whenever he sees fit. He is a ghost no longer, and the curtain in his mind is so soft, a robe around him now rather than a curtain that separates who he was before Tomura entered his life. He knows the hatred that he started with, knows the disgust, revulsion, and fear, but his mind is not so rigid anymore. He fantasized for years what his world would be like once Shoto ruled instead of their father, now he knows that reality could not have made him feel so whole and complete as he does at his mate's side. 

Dabi has spent his morning in the library, reading about all of the places beyond their kingdom now that things are stable enough Tomura has started to consider taking him to tour the large stretch of land that he has claimed for himself, even if it was in his father's name. Dabi wants to leave the castle, he wants to see what the world looks like beyond this place, but he doesn't want to embarrass himself by fumbling his way through foreign cultures. So he does as he always has and studies. But he didn't think that his master would be back in their room so early in the afternoon, his day usually focused on maintaining his control and conversing using magical looking glasses to the various outposts along his territory. Sometimes he takes his full draconic form and goes flying, though he stopped asking Dabi if he would like to go after the first time left him so sick he was bedridden for days, both his mate and brother tutting over his fragility the entire time. 

"Master," he can't help the warmth that comes to his voice. Four years has made the sharpness of that word fade. He is a pet, but he is beloved. Tomura took him as a mate upon having one conversation with him rather than any of the dozens of suitors that he could have had instead. He still chooses to have only him as a mate even though so many of his father's generals choose to take many instead. Tomura will only ever have him, until the end of time.

Tomura smiles at him and that is so warm, so welcoming, that it puts an ache behind his ribs. Dabi doesn't know if it is magic or not, but he kept thinking that perhaps someday he might not feel his heart ache like a tender bruise whenever he was blessed with his mate's company. But the love in his chest will not be quelled or softened with time, it seems, it will only grow stronger. 

"Did you have a good time?" He asks, always wanting to know that he has found ways of entertaining himself if they cannot be together throughout the day. 

"Yes, master," but he doesn't care about his reading at this moment. His mate had to leave him early this morning and only arrived back at their room late last night when Dabi had already gone to sleep. He's become so spoiled for pleasure that his body is already growing warm as he moves across the room to immediately make himself at home in his lover's lap. 

Tomura chuckles at the display, but makes no real protest, "It's nearly lunch, aren't you hungry, pet?" 

"Only for you." He will be ravenous after if he has his master all of the ways that his body craves now, but he will sate that need after his more urgent ones have been as well. "I missed your kisses against my skin." He says, his cheeks growing warmer as he confesses his neediness. 

"And I missed every inch of your sweet skin, my love." Tomura leans closer, nuzzling their noses together. "I'll just have to satisfy myself by tasting every inch of you today, I suppose." He punctuates the words by hooking his legs around his waist and putting his hands on the backs of Dabi's thighs, standing easily with him held in his arms like he weighs nothing at all. Dabi can't purr like his lover can, but he would right now if he were capable of it as he is carried over to the bed. Their sheets are soft and black now too because Tomura likes to make him cum until he is past coherence before having him count the streaks of white on the sheets so he can see how completely he has been ruined. It makes the velvet darkness of his mind manifest in a way that only serves to bring Dabi more pleasure aching through him. It's a darkness inside that is so much warmer than the isolation he had before his mate, and one that he will never allow himself to resent having now, not when he can choose each time he is with Tomura, to sink deeper into his dark embrace. 

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