#Unsuccessful Assassination Attempts | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eightmakesonebraincell · 7 months

Text

ateez as royals who fall for you (hyung line)

read maknae line here

genre: royalty!ateez x fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, crack, a brainrot and smutfest of royal tropes

length: 12.8k

c/w: very nsfw scenes - mdni, explicit language (dirty talk, swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, heavy & mature themes (sex work, murder, assassination, execution, mentions of misogyny)

a/n: this has simultaneously been the pride and joy of my life and the bane of my entire existence for the last 2.5 months 🥴 and tumblr is an inept incapable CLOWN who cannot handle the full 24k worth of bullet points so here is the hyung line first - maknae line coming soon (yumi @sorryimananti-romantic can vouch for my unsuccessful 3-hour attempt at formatting them into a single post)

hongjoong

pov: you're the king's royal courtesan

“fuck,” hongjoong lets out a deep growl from within his chest as his head dips down to rest against the crook of your neck. “you’re just as tight as last time”

when your hips involuntarily buck from the pleasure, he nudges your thighs further apart and keeps your wrists pinned above your head

he can’t help but let out another groan when he feels your walls clench around his cock as you adjust to his thickness

“i thought- god,” a moan escapes you after he thrusts his hips against you, “thought you never fucked the same woman twice”

“i don’t,” he simply says

and it’s true

hongjoong is one of the youngest princes to have ruled during the kim dynasty, having risen to power after the previous king succumbed early to an unknown illness

he has the choice and selection of all the courtesans available within the palace and outside its walls

hongjoong also has a reputation of being highly sought after by everybody, not just amongst courtesans

it’s not only because he is devilishly handsome, knows how to properly fuck somebody dumb, and is the literal king

the main thing that makes him so desirable and unreachable?

he never sees the same courtesan more than once

“yet here you are,” you hook your legs around hongjoong’s waist to gain leverage and meet his thrusts with your own hips, “between my legs for the second time”

you smirk when he curses and throws his head back

his grip on your wrists tightens and his voice drops dangerously low

“the first time doesn’t count because i was meant to see lady chae. so really, this is the first time i’m requesting for your services”

he silences you from retorting by pressing a bruising kiss against you, lips messily attaching to yours before trailing down the sharp angle of your jaw to bite your neck

you are a courtesan for people of nobility and royal status

part of the ‘house of flowers’ and commonly referred to as ‘flower courtesans’, you and the other women are highly-sought after for the companionship you offer

you are well protected by the house of flowers though - the services of companionship that you provide is requested by your client, but is ultimately accepted or rejected by you

lady chae, another of the flower courtesans and one of your closest friends, is requested by the king for her services

it is quite clear what it is going to entail and you both spend several of the following nights giggling and whispering scandalously to one another

whether the rumours about his stamina will be true

whether lady chae will be the first to break his one-fuck rule

except when the day of the meeting comes around, she spikes a sudden fever

lady shin, the head of the house of flowers, takes all but one look at her before ordering her to bed rest despite both of your attempts to, albeit unconvincingly, persuade lady shin that chae’s fever would only serve to help make the king’s dick warmer

lady shin is not amused to say the least

with the last minute hitch, the king agrees for you to be sent out to him as a replacement instead

and you end up being the flower courtesan who he breaks his reputed rule for

(lady chae is initially jealous, understandably)

(but very quickly, she appears to be even more excited than you are as she combs through your undergarments for the “sluttiest set” that she can find)

your attention is brought back as hongjoong flicks his tongue over your hardened nipples, continuing to drag his length in and out of you while your back arches off the bed

you tease in between short breaths, “are you really bringing up another woman’s name while you have your cock inside me?”

“you brought it up first,” he reminds you, accentuating his answer with timed thrusts

you grind your hips against his, chasing more friction against your clit as you feel your high approaching

“why?” he snakes one of his hands down between your connected torsos to rub messy circles against your clit, smirking as he asks, “are you getting jealous already?”

for that, you clench down hard on his cock, immediately feeling the way it throbs inside of you as you bring him closer to his orgasm too

“as if. fuck off”

your words are hardly audible from the whines that are leaving your mouth due to the added pressure of another finger against your clit from your retaliation

“i’m close,” hongjoong releases his grip on your wrists so that he can straighten his body, anchoring his hand on your hip instead so that he can fuck you and rub your clit with his other hand with renewed vigour

when you hear him groan, “cum for me,” the string snaps and your whole body quivers in his hold as your orgasm washes over you

hongjoong’s hips gradually stutter to a pause, an occasional thrust inside your clenching pussy as he milks out the rest of his cum inside of you

he finally eases himself out of you and hums in satisfaction as he watches his cum slowly leak out of you

hongjoong drops down beside you, toned chest covered in a sheen layer of sweat as it rises up and down with his pants

when your fuzzy mind has cleared a little from the blissful haze of your orgasm, he strokes his fingertips along the side of your thigh, along the curve of your ass, and over the dip of your waist just under your breasts as he says, “you better not be jealous. first one to get jealous loses”

“if anyone’s going to get jealous first, it’s you,” you scoff back

he raises an eyebrow

oh yeah?

he shoves his leaking cum back inside of you and fingers you to another orgasm

now that shuts you up

for a man who barks, he sure has no bite, because you find yourself being notified by lady shin several days later of yet another request for your services under the king’s name

and another request turns into another

and every single time, hongjoong makes sure that the only word leaving your lips for those many hours is his moaned name

but at the same time, the more you and hongjoong meet, the more he just savours in your simple companionship

he asks you to teach him how to embroider because you’ve mentioned before it’s how you like to spend your free evenings

he rifles through your bag of materials that you bring

you smack his hand away at the carelessness with which he’s upturning everything

“what’s this?” he holds up a large, wooden hoop before trying to fit it through his head, “a necklace?”

“i wonder if people know they appointed an idiot to be king,” you say as you gently unscrew the hoops and demonstrate how to align a piece of fabric between the rings

he watches with interest as you screw the outer hoop tighter until the fabric is nice and taut and then repeat the process so you both have one to work with

you have to help hongjoong thread his needle too, because apparently the king’s fingers are only good for scissoring you open

you weave your own needle through the fabric at a slow pace whilst telling him the different names and uses of the stitches you’re showing him

except, when you look up to see if he’s following?

his own hoop has been abandoned to one side and he’s leaning against his hand as he gazes cheekily at you

“were you even paying attention?”

he sounds a little too confident when he answers not at all

in return, hongjoong shows you how to write hanja the next time you meet

he positions himself behind you with his hand over yours as he guides you through different characters stroke by stroke

he claims that there are specific ways of applying pressure to the brush so he has to be holding your hand at all times

you most definitely roll your eyes several times but you indulge him anyway

there are a lot of giggles and teasing pushes when you accidentally dip the end of your sleeve into the ink and you try to spread it onto his robes too

(the calligraphy may or may not become forgotten when hongjoong pins you down to stop your cheeky behaviour, because things naturally escalate whenever he has you under him)

you two do eventually manage to finish one decent-looking scroll of characters which he ends up gifting you so that you ‘don’t forget’ about him when you’re not with him

when you walk back into the house of flowers, the hanging scroll perks lady shin’s interest as you walk past

“hongjoong taught me how to write my name today”

lady shin waggles her eyebrows at you suggestively because of how casually you refer to the king, for which you nudge her with a shoulder

she laughs then asks to have a look

you unravel the paper to show her but then she makes a funny noise

“that’s not your name? these are the characters for- oh,” she cackles scandalously to herself, as if she has made a secret discovery

“what does it mean?” you hurry to clarify

you wouldn’t put it past him to have taught you a crude phrase instead, like ‘best tits’ or ‘biggest ass’

lady shin lets out an amused exhale, handing the scroll back to you

“it says, my flower”

you’re looking at those exact characters from where you lay on your bed when a knock sounds on your door several days later

lady shin steps into your room with a warm smile as you greet her

“you have an appointment with lord min tomorrow, but the king has just inquired about your service availability for tomorrow,” she informs you. “would you like me to give him the usual answer?”

this isn’t the first time a clash has occurred, particularly with the increasing frequency with which hongjoong requests to see you

you have always told lady shin to ask for hongjoong’s pardon and to offer him an alternative time or day, because in the end, you still need to maintain a professional and admirable reputation as a flower courtesan

and as you open your mouth to tell her ‘yes’, your eye catches the scroll hanging on your wall

my flower

you hesitate

“actually,” you look away from the hanja, “i’ll see hongjoong.”

lady shin gives you a motherly smile as she nods in understanding and closes the door behind her

the next day you see him, he excitedly points out the large tambour frame in his room that he bought just a few days prior, claiming you two can work on a big embroidery patch together now

you give him one look then demote him back to the small embroidery hoop because he still hasn’t learnt his basic stitches yet

(that’ll teach him to not pay attention when you’re demonstrating, ha)

you relent and end up going through the different stitches with him again anyway

and you find that he’s actually not that bad with embroidery once he’s actually focused on the task at hand

it’s nice, basking in each other's presence while he threads his little square of fabric and you work with the large frame you have now essentially claimed as yours

not that hongjoong minds; he did buy it solely to make you happy

and then you offhandedly mention that someone had gifted you a handkerchief with your initials embroidered on one of the corners the other day

“i actually have it on me, in fact,” and you take it out from where it’s tucked into your waist so that you can show him

he juts out his chin as he peers down at the delicate letters, huffing, “it’s pretty, i guess”

then as an afterthought he tacks on, “bet i could do a better job”

“are you jealous right now, kim hongjoong?”

said man is hellbent on avoiding your eyes as he picks up his needle and thread again

“no i’m not!”

“whatever you say,” you smirk

after that day though, you don’t receive another request from hongjoong to meet until two weeks later

which, in the grand scheme of things, really isn’t much

but in comparison to the frequency at which you are used to seeing him, the frequency at which your body is used to having him, it is much too long

you are almost beginning to wonder whether you shouldn’t have brought up the handkerchief gift

yet, he greets you with his usual teasing squeeze of your waist, dangerously close to your ass

you make a move to follow him through the doors to his chambers but he turns around to produce a silk cloth

he starts to blindfold you, whispering sultrily, “i have a surprise for you”

you feel the hairs on the back of your neck raise at his tone

guiding you inside, hongjoong gently pushes you down so that you sink into the plush duvet of his bed

“do you trust me?” he whispers

trying not to dwell on the urge to lick your dry lips, you answer, “of course”

you feel him tugging slowly on the string that holds the front of your corset together, loosening your dress with tenderness like you are a fragile gift

you shiver when your shoulders are suddenly exposed to the cold air

and then the sensation is followed by the warmth of hongjoong’s soft exhales along the expanse of your collarbones as he leans closer to fully disrobe your shoulders

you have to remind yourself to keep breathing

“you can look now,” he tells you

you remove the silk cloth from around your eyes, unsure of what to expect

it takes a few blinks to readjust your vision to the room around you but then your eyes finally focus

and you gasp

there, hung on the wall with its striking viridian green, shimmering threads and intricate swirls on glorious display, is quite possibly the most stunning dress you have ever laid eyes upon

“try it on,” he encourages

but as you step closer, you realise the lacing across the front of the corset and running down the sleeves of the top dress is in fact, not lacing

it’s patchy

it’s uneven

it has empty areas

but it is no doubt embroidery

“did you…did you make this?” you reach out a hand to lightly caress one of the embroidered flowers, not quite daring to believe that hongjoong would go to these lengths for you

“of course,” he wraps his arms around you from behind and presses a light kiss against your temple, “i’m not losing to a lousy handkerchief”

“is that why you disappeared for two weeks?”

you let out a laugh, sinking into his embrace, because the image of the great king holed up in his chambers for days on end, hunched over your dress with a needle, thread and frown on his face is just too endearing

he lets out a warning huff as he turns you around in his embrace to face him

upturning his hands, he shows you the tips of his fingers and grumbles, “i poked myself so many times for you and you laugh at me?”

you bring his hands closer to your face, pressing light kisses to his fingertips as you smile, “thank you, joong. i love it so much, i really do”

he looks at you impossibly soft

under his tender gaze, something suddenly rushes to your very core

you hold one his hands steady in front of your lips then swirl your tongue out in an experimental lick over his fingers

it’s almost captivating how quickly his pupils dilate and zero in on your tongue

so you dare to bring his fingers into your mouth

you suck on them a little harder

a little deeper

and then you moan around his fingers, “i want you”

he lets out a groan himself, feeling the front of his breeches tighten as his cock twitches

“i- fuck, i didn’t give the dress to you in hopes that it would lead to this,” yet despite his words he is stepping you backwards so that he can pin you against the wall

“i know, but i want you,” you palm his growing bulge, your knees going weak at how hard he already is. “and i need you. now.”

he doesn’t need further encouragement

he shoves the remainder of your clothes aside before inserting his fingers roughly between your folds

it doesn’t take long for him to bring you to your first orgasm, curling his fingers relentlessly as you ride them

he spreads your cum over your pussy and you buck your hips with a whine when he circles over your clit briefly

then he’s turning you around and bending you over, one of your hands bracing against the wall, your other arm held behind your back by hongjoong’s firm grasp

“fuck, you’re so wet,” his whole body shivers with pleasure as his cock slips right into you

the obscene sounds of his hips slapping against your ass and your slick being pushed back into your hole over and over again fill the room

and to the clenching of your pussy from another orgasm, hongjoong also cums into you with a guttural groan of your name

he gently carries you to his bed and lays you on top of the covers

he leaves your side for a moment and you listen to him rummage through something while you try to regain control of your quaking legs

when he comes back, you feel him gently spreading your legs and then the ticklish sensation of a soft cloth along your inner thighs

a whine escapes your lips when he rubs over your sensitive clit and hongjoong grips your thigh a little tighter

“be careful what pretty sounds you’re making if you can’t handle another round”

it isn’t until he finishes cleaning you up and lies down next to you to start wiping himself down that you look over and realise what it is that he’s been using this whole time

your mouth drops in disbelief

when hongjoong notices your expression, he smirks, “the man who gave you this has no idea his handkerchief is being used to clean my cum off your thighs”

“hongjoong!” you flush with a laugh. “you are definitely jealous, aren’t you?”

“yes, i’m fucking jealous,” he growls, “you’re the only one i want. you’re the only woman i’ve been requesting for since i’ve seen you. and i want to be the only one who gets to have you, too”

you confess, “well, you can have all of me. because i’ve started refusing other people just for you”

he looks at you for another moment before he’s suddenly straddling your hips

“change of plans,” he says breathily, “i need you again”

“very good plan,” you grind up against him

and then you pause, mirth starting to bubble in your throat, “one last thing though”

hongjoong looks down with amusement in his own eyes, wondering what could possibly be so funny

“that handkerchief?” you start, struggling not to laugh when his eyes immediately narrow, “i never said it was from a man. it was a gift from lady chae”

seonghwa

pov: you're his royal guard

as soon as you notice the movement out of the corner of your eye, your body reacts straight away

you murmur seonghwa’s name with a tight voice and move to position yourself in front of him, unwilling to risk the prince’s safety

one of your hands grasps the hilt of your sword, ready to unsheathe it at the first sign of danger, as your calculative gaze darts between the two young men stumbling closer on the dirt path and the line of forest trees from which they appear

they are wearing simple tunics and breeches with their colour faded and seams loosening from wear

from what you can discern, they are simply commoners, but that does not rule out the possibility that they are bandits

seonghwa seems to think otherwise, though

unsurprising but still grating

the prince places his hand on your shoulder gently in a silent reassurance and request for you to step aside

albeit reluctantly, you force yourself to move to his left

it becomes clear to you as the two figures stop just shy of a few feet away that the term ‘men’ was pushing it - their faces are young and they appear to be no older than seventeen or eighteen

the young strangers dip their head in greeting, one of them apologising as well as he pulls out a tattered map that he extends out for you two to see

“my companion and i are traveling to the village norshaw but seem to have lost our way. would you be able to point us in the right direction?” the one with the map asks

“of course,” seonghwa offers with a kind smile

you watch as the three of them step closer together to look more closely at the map

on high alert, and just as you are predicting, you see the companion shuffle closer to seonghwa, hand inching towards the leather pouch that hangs from the prince’s belt

you catch the subtle motion of seonghwa’s eyes flickering down just an inch

because of how well you understand his body language, you know that it means he has already noticed the thieving intention

but because of how well you understand seonghwa, you know that he isn’t going to do anything about it either

so you strike in his stead

your hand darts out to snatch the thieve’s wrist, twisting his forearm upwards so that he is forced to lean awkwardly towards one side to prevent his elbow from snapping

his partner drops the map, letting out a string of curses and hesitating for all but three seconds before he turns around to flee

scoffing, you threaten the one who is still in your hold, who then bolts with his tail between his legs after you release him

"did you really need to scare them off like that? it's not like i had any money in the pouch anyway," seonghwa chastises with a chuckle

"yes," you deadpan. "i did not spend the last two hours of our trip pausing every fifty meters to wait for you to pick up a rock because you thought it looked pretty, only for them to be stolen by a pair of petty thieves"

"it would have been funny to imagine their faces after realising what they stole," seonghwa grins

“mhm,” you hum, “and the next thing you know, you’ll wake up to your palace ransacked, because word in town is that you can steal from the prince and get away with it”

he levels you with a boyish scowl, “you’re so dramatic. what are you, my mother?”

“no, but i am your royal bodyguard”

“exactly. you are my bodyguard, not my brainguard. if i am to be swindled of my pretty rocks, then so be it”

you roll your eyes out of exasperation, but everything is swiftly forgotten minutes later when you point out a heart-shaped rock and seonghwa rushes over to pick it up

it has been like this ever since the incident occurred - him, the sunshine; you, the sunshine protector

it has been almost four years since it happened

somebody had attempted arsenic poisoning of not only seonghwa, but also those working under him

you had noticed strange discolouring of the silverware in the kitchen and on the table serving his dinner, which prompted an investigation and subsequent discovery of the perpetrator

an act of betrayal and treachery by one of his closest relatives - his very own uncle

seonghwa was - still is - too merciful and tender-hearted to punish his uncle, even if the severity of his uncle’s crimes warranted execution

to have his trust broken so shatteringly hurt seonghwa more than if he were to actually have been poisoned

you still remember like it was yesterday; the sight of the prince slumped against the wall, weighed down by chains of turmoil and despair as whispers fly through the palace of the weak-hearted prince who is unable to deliver fair judgement

it is the sight of the prince looking so small and lost that drives your feet forward to stand before him

as the soft draught coming through the windows tugs gently on your tresses and the flickers of candlelight illuminate the glint of steel in your hand, you make a decision

“i’ll be your sword,” you pledge

not just as his royal guard, but as his haven when he is forced to face corruption and wickedness

and when you see the way his shoulders immediately sag with relief at your declaration, the way he nods like a child who has been reassured that everything will be okay, you tell yourself that seonghwa will never have to dirty his hands as long as you are with him

you will be the dark to his light; the yin to his yang

quietly, you see to it that his uncle is executed for his crimes - your statement to the rest of the palace that prince seonghwa is not to be mocked

neither of you bring it up again, but seonghwa knows

he pulls you into a wholehearted hug, arms enveloping you securely as his chest shakes with shuddering breaths of thank you over and over again

you rub your hand up and down his sturdy back soothingly

it is an action that simultaneously reciprocates his embrace and his crossed line of professionalism

one that starts the shift in dynamic between you both, boundaries of sought comfort blurring with friendship and then something more

where seonghwa is too trusting and too soft-spoken, you become his skepticism and his voice

“you should be more wary of others,” you always remind him

“and you should be more trusty of others,” he’ll retort

yet, he will never make a decision that does not receive your input nor one that you do not agree with

where seonghwa is too gentle and too humble, you become his sword and his shield

you do not waver when you strike down foe, and friends turned foe alike

you speak up and establish firm boundaries when others take advantage of the respect he shows everybody regardless of their class or status

and yet, if you find yourself on the receiving end of someone’s condescension or discriminatory treatment, be it due to your rank as a guard or identity as a woman, seonghwa will be advancing forward to defend you before you can do so yourself

where seonghwa is too innocent and too bushy-tailed, you become his eyes and his caution

your morning walks together always last for longer than they are scheduled for

he stops to watch every butterfly and bumblebee that flutters along the flowery path, and he waits for caterpillars to crawl onto a leaf that he holds by the stem so that he can move the critters off the pathway

you love to watch him and his glittering eyes, his cheeks rosy from happiness and from the air still crisp with morning dew

but you also make sure to watch his surroundings with greater vigilance because the quiet peace that the freshly awoken sun brings simultaneously increases the likelihood of a targeted attack against him

as much as you rib him for being a marshmallow personified, however, and as much as he banters back that you are more than welcome to resign at any time, neither of you want it any other way

seonghwa carries out a lot of gestures that he justifies to himself as being eternally grateful for you and the things you do for him

he likes to gift you flowers he has plucked from his garden or the bushes he walks past that remind him of you

(“that’s actually just a very pretty-looking weed, but thank you, seonghwa,” you tell him on more than one occasion)

(it’s adorable, because the next time he finds a flower, he goes to the length of certifying that it is indeed a flower with the merchant who sells bouquets in the nearby town before presenting it to you, eyes gleaming with pride)

you stand still and let him tuck a flower behind your ear, sometimes braiding your hair gently so that he can weave and secure the stem into your hair, holding your breath as his features fill with the same enrapturement that he would admire a beautiful artwork with

after you voice this out one day, seonghwa supposes to himself that there is not much difference between an artwork and you

not that he’s attracted to you or anything - you just…have an objectively attractive face

yes.

especially when your usually-piercing expression is softened by fatigue, guard no longer up as you sleep slumped over a desk while accompanying him during his late night of studies

he does not realise his feet have moved until he is right beside your resting form, as if the soft exhales escaping from your slightly parted lips are a siren’s song

seonghwa tenderly brushes your stray locks away from your face and behind your neck

except he forgets to account for the fact that you are trained to sleep on the brink of consciousness

the squeal that leaves his mouth when your reflexes kick in and you almost slit his throat resounds at a frequency so high you almost believe it comes from your own mouth

you have a grand time watching his beet red face stutter out an excuse as to what exactly he was doing so close to you

needless to say, that is the last time seonghwa ever tries to do anything while you are sleeping

but as much as he bumbles around, he also reveals his perceptiveness when you least expect it

like now, as you accompany the prince to one of his meetings with numerous advisors and ministers

it is relatively dull and uneventful, mostly a cordial appearance to maintain amicable and loyal relationships with his subjects

conversation is limited to pleasantries and at one point, seonghwa even points out the calligraphy paintings hung at the back of the room

everyone nods with throaty laughs as if the paintings are indeed the most exquisite and tasteful artworks they have ever laid their eyes upon

when you and seonghwa arrive back at his chambers following the conclusion of the meeting, he walks over to his bed and shakes the sleeves of his robe over the expanse of his duvet

and out drops a neatly-wrapped sweet, followed by another, then another, until there are enough to amount to two handfuls

baffled, you look at seonghwa, because these are the very same treats that had been plated on the tables during the meeting

“you smuggled candy out of the room?” you try to keep the amusement out of your voice

he peers into his sleeves to ensure there are no more stragglers, before turning to face you as he waves his hands over the small collection of goods on his bed

as if they are-

“for you!” he exclaims almost proudly. “i saw you eyeing them during the meeting so i took some for you”

okay

most definitely proudly

you feel something tickling you from within, as if he has reached through your chest to directly caress your heart with a delicate finger

“when did you even…” your voice trails off when it comes out a little fonder than you are expecting it to

“remember the paintings i pointed out?” seonghwa giggles, and you think that the hand in your chest is now cradling your heart completely. “i swiped the sweets when everyone was looking back at them”

“thank you, hwa,” you settle on saying, because you do not trust yourself to say anything else

that is more than enough for him, though

which, of course it is - this is seonghwa, with his huge heart that fills easily with the smallest of things

he eagerly hands you one of the treats and you unwrap it to place into your mouth

you’ve had these before, but this one that he has specially grabbed for you tastes remarkably sweeter

you wonder if his lips will taste the same…

but then you accidentally bite your tongue, hard enough to draw blood, and you realise just how wrong you are for letting those fleeting thoughts into your mind

because while you navigate the world in thick droplets of red and sharp glints of silver, seonghwa sees the world in soft hues of pastel and gleaming rays of yellow

how could the two palettes ever blend together harmoniously?

so instead, you grant yourself one last moment of selfishness and pull him into a hug, a gesture that toes the already shaky borders of professionalism yet can still be excused under the guise of friendship

you realise that he has always meant much more to you, but that is what this will stay as - a mere realisation

seonghwa wraps his arms around your form as he relaxes into the way your bodies naturally meld together

it’s strange how easily you slot into his life, his thoughts, his heart

he wonders whether it’s possible for feelings of appreciation to run so deeply and potently within somebody, like a drug that he cannot get enough of

and when you take a step away from him, leaving his chest feeling physically and emotionally empty, he wonders if he is perhaps…

in love with you

following that incident, it is almost as if a switch flips - both of you take several steps away from the line that has been danced around

but neither of you notice the distance because you are both consumed by your own thoughts

until one of your usual morning walks around the castle walls of his palace

seonghwa is wondering whether the bushes you walk past remind you of the flowers he used to gift you and you are debating whether to reach out to brush a petal out of his half ponytail

then, like deja vu, your eyes flicker towards the burst of movement as a figure covered in black comes darting forwards with their blade raised intended for murder

you immediately start to unsheathe your sword, feet poised and prepared to defend-

until you are harshly tugged back and the prince steps in front of you to parry the strike that the assassin tries to land

it takes your lifetime of training and experience to snap back into focus and thrust your sword into the enemy’s exposed side

when you are sure he is dead, you whirl around to descend upon seonghwa with a voice trembling from both anger and relief

“what in the world were you thinking?” you yell

“i-”

taking a step forward, you toss your sword to one side, “no, actually. you weren’t thinking at all”

“i was afraid that you would get hurt!” he takes his own step closer

“that is my duty!” the volume of your voice raises even more. “i am willing to lay down my life to ensure your safety! i have been guarding you for years now and you have never acted this way. what has changed?”

for a moment, the only sound that punctuates the silence is your harsh breathing

seonghwa swallows

“my feelings…” he whispers, a stark contrast to the peak of emotions you have been riding. “my feelings for you have changed”

your throat tightens at his words

it is your turn to whisper, a noise of confusion leaving your lips

he takes another step closer, bringing himself to stand right in front of you as he looks down earnestly into your eyes

“i’d rather be the protector, and you be the protected”

“but…why?” your heart races with anticipation

“because i’m in love with you”

right at the invisible border that has been separating you two for as long as you have been his guard, seonghwa now stands, hands wringing together as he awaits a response

“then that makes the two of us,” you confess

you step forward to take your familiar spot on the other side of the line, except this time you do not stop

you stride over the boundary completely to stand by his side

raising yourself onto your tiptoes, you pull him down slightly by the front of his doublet so that you can press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips

it stretches wider and curves upwards under the nurturing of your own smile

you can’t help but give him another kiss on the other side of his mouth to match the one you just gave him

“from now on,” seonghwa starts, “i’ll be your sword”

you wouldn’t really, and you will fight him to let you continue being his guard, but that doesn’t stop one last teasing question from escaping you

“does this mean i get to retire?”

yunho

pov: you're part of a rebel group

the crown prince is not in his fucking library

for the past three weeks, the crown prince has always been in the royal library at night

until today

under normal circumstances, his royal guards and staff would be alerted to ensure that the deviance in routine is a conscious decision and not an issue of the crown prince missing

except doing that would make your job significantly harder…

considering you have been ordered to assassinate him.

you’re part of the ‘red sun’, a revolutionary movement aiming to overthrow the current monarch

following the debilitating state of the king after falling ill and the subsequent coronation of queen jeong into power, she has since then established numerous royal decrees to keep everyone under her reign on a tight leash

a leash made of barbed wire

people are quick to become resentful and thirsty for an end to the dictatorship and bloodline

although he has made limited public appearances, the crown prince has also developed a reputation rivaling the queen’s

within the second year of the jeong dynasty, red sun has already amassed a multitude of supporters

the focus is currently on growing in numbers, preparing for an imminent revolution and picking off corrupt royals and noblists, be it through incrimination or assassination

dealing with those in positions of higher power is a task only completed by an elite selection of red sun rebels who have distinguished skills and traits that set them apart from peasants and commoners

and you are amongst the elite team

which is why you find yourself staking out on the tiled roof of the imperial palace, clothed in black with a mask and hooded cowl covering your face that blends you in with the darkness of night, on the orders of a higher-up to assassinate the crown prince

except the target is missing; the information you were given is wrong

which never happens

you can’t risk staying around for much longer, especially now that the crown prince has broken his routine

he could be anywhere and so could his royal guards

you shift your body to a crouch and place your hands on the cool tiles beneath you, ready to leave

only to spot a figure, crouched just like you are, on the opposite side of the roof

their face is a black hole of nothing within the shrouded confines of their hood, but you can feel their gaze piercing into you all the same

you run

you scramble to the edge of the roof and nimbly leap off the curved eaves to the neighbouring structure of the study room

when you glance backwards, you see the man - physique now obvious - is keeping up easily along the stepping stones of roofs

this game of cat and mouse isn’t going to work for long

if you don’t get caught by him first, you’re both going to get caught by the palace guards

so you make a split decision and alter your next trajectory lower

keeping your arms outstretched for the eaves, you grab on tightly when your fingers touch the edge of the roof and use your core to kick your legs up to stop your body from slamming into the wall from the momentum of your jump

you let go and drop to the ground like a feline, noiseless, and slink towards a line of trees

then you wait

he’s good, you note to yourself, when the only sound that alerts you to his presence is the quick scuffle of his feet as he softens his impact against the wall and the muted thud of his body landing on the ground

“state your purpose,” he demands, voice low yet firm

you ignore him to ask, “who are you?”

now up close, you can see that the man is wearing attire almost the same as you are, identity also hidden by the his bandana and hood-

wait

even the dark red stitching that subtly replaces the original seam on the right shoulder of his outer clothing is the same

the same as those on the elite team

“one of you,” he confirms your suspicions

except you don’t recognise his voice nor his build

being one of the earliest members of the rebel organisation, you are familiar with all the members who carry out missions like yours

he is not one of them; not one you can trust yet

when you don’t speak, he adds on, “we need to go. the safehouse might be in danger”

he refers to the two of you so easily, as if you and him are an unspoken team

you cannot trust this man until you know for sure he is part of red sun, so you ask him

“when is red most beautiful?”

it is a vague question with a fixed answer

one that reflects the heart of the revolutionary itself

during the sunrise of a new beginning

“during the sunrise of a new beginning,” the man says resolutely

the tension releases from your shoulders

“okay,” you opt to abandon your original mission. “let’s check on the safehouse”

the man offers you a hand to hike yourself up onto one of the outer walls of the palace before he jumps up himself with ease

you both flip over the top and land in unison

the moon illuminates the ground beneath your feet as you both sprint into the surrounding forest

the safehouse is really just a small hut situated far enough from the palace to stay inconspicuous, yet not close enough to the outer borders of the kingdom to risk discovery by the frequent border patrols

you both slow down as you approach the clearing, steadying your breaths and treading with cautious steps

and then you hear it

the shattering clang of a desperate parry

all it takes is a quick glance at the man by your side before your eyes harden with purpose and your steps are dashing in unison towards the hut

you’re both hit with the smell of a metallic tang in the air, and it’s not from your drawn swords

bursting through the door, you quickly take in the scene before you

several red sun members are scattered around the hut and slumped in varying degrees of injury

it’s easy to spot the intruder; they’re yanking their sword out of a body’s torso as they simultaneously turn to look at you

and it’s hard to miss the royal insignia of the jeong monarch on their chest plate

you have the element of surprise

but only for the next few seconds

you leap forward with the thud of footsteps of your partner following almost immediately, side-stepping once you close the distance to dodge a haphazard swing

there’s a brief break in defense when the enemy tries to aim for another strike that leaves the gap in the side of their armour exposed

you feel the slight resistance of your sword entering flesh as you thrust it forward into them

except when you try to tug it back out, a hand grasps your own and the hilt of your sword, stopping you from stepping away

the enemy has realised they are not going to make it out of this alive

but if they are to die, then they are going to take one last person with them

you.

you see glint of metal as they use their other hand to swing their sword down onto you, only for it to be deflected at the last second by another sword

the man you have met for barely an hour is now at your side with his towering protectiveness

in one smooth kick, his long leg sends the other careening into the wall of the hut with a mighty slam

you feel yourself jerking forward from the enemy’s grasp still on your hand

but the man next to you quickly tucks you into his side before you are also sent sprawling

“check on the others,” he briefly says, and then he is striding towards the fallen intruder

you only spare him another quick glance and then you rush to the nearest figure on the ground

you go around checking for pulses, and for those who are still breathing, the extent of their injuries

there are several casualties but nowhere near as many if you and the man had not come to check on the safehouse

which suddenly makes you pause in your tracks

how did he know about the attack in the first place?

you stretch your legs from their squatted position next to one of the red sun members and turn around to confront him

except…the man has disappeared

and so has the intruder’s body

days later, the question of whether you will chance upon the man again tonight flits through your mind when you find yourself perched in the very same spot on the tiled roof of the palace that gives you a clear view of the royal library

you have received another order to assassinate the crown prince as soon as you see the opportunity arise

this time, the note is accompanied by a cyanide capsule, a non-verbal message that this mission is to occur with your life on the line

you spot him

he’s preoccupied by the scroll in his hand as he makes his way through the shelves of parchments

you wait until he’s walked far enough into the library before you drop down from the roof, keeping your stance low to ensure you stay hidden as you silently move closer

you take out the jagged dagger from its sheath by your waist as you anticipate it will be too difficult to wield your long sword in the narrow aisles

and there the crown prince stands

he has his back to you, exposing him to your mercy

mercy that you have no intention of showing him

the cruel heir to the throne of an even crueler dictatorship deserves none

“it’s you again, isn’t it?”

you freeze

the crown prince still has not turned around to address you, but you can feel the dark gaze of his eyes on you as if he were looking at you

“you were here a few days ago”

fuck

how he knows you have no idea

what you do know though is that you have about two seconds to make a move before you lose this chance to assassinate him completely, and quite possibly, lose your life as well

the pill you have hidden in the breast of your tunic feels heavy

“you are part of red sun, are you not?”

this time the crown prince does turn around to face you, but it isn’t the nonchalance with which he reveals your identity that makes your head reel

it is the warmth and softness in his gaze and the hint of a smile on his face that does

what the actual fuck

you’re convinced that the crown prince is not only heinous, but also batshit crazy

“i am,” you spit out at him, “with orders to assassinate you, in fact”

his mouth thins into a tight line, “the orders you have received are false”

“sounds exactly like something a crown prince would say to avoid being assassinated,” you scoff

but then his next words change everything

“red is most beautiful during the sunrise of a new beginning”

before you have time to fathom the bomb that has just been dropped, your heads swivel simultaneously towards the entrance of the royal library when a voice calls out for the crown prince

“hide,” he hisses urgently

and then he’s stepping further away to conceal your presence as best as possible

you hear the shuffle of footsteps approaching before they stop, dangerously close to where you’re crouched behind a bookshelf

“apologies for interrupting your time, crown prince,” they say

from where you are you can see the crown prince’s expression clear as he lets out a small huff, “i have told you many times to just call me yunho”

“of course, crown prince yunho”

even though you can’t see the other person’s expression, you can hear the amusement in their voice

they continue, “i have the information you have requested for”

“thank you,” you see him - yunho - receive a small scroll. “the queen does not know?”

“no, i made sure to be as discreet as possible”

yunho thanks the other once again and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets when he bows his head in appreciation as he dismisses them

is this the same crown prince as the rumours?

and what is he doing behind his mother’s back?

you don’t realise you’ve been staring dumbly at him until he’s back in front of you with amusement on his face

he stands tall and proud, robes accentuating his stature and nobility

“who exactly are you,” you dare to ask

your voice is small - you feel small, crouched at his feet like a stark physical representation of the power he holds over you

but then he takes yet another step closer and kneels down so that your eyes meet at the same level

“i am the leader of red sun. the creator of the whole revolution”

your ankles actually do give out at that and you have to seat yourself on the floor

because how is any of this possible?

you must have voiced your thoughts out loud, because before you know it, yunho is crossing his legs and making himself comfortable on the floor right in front of you

it makes you feel so strange

the crown prince’s willingness to make himself an equal before you - and even to his staff from earlier

yunho starts to explain

a change in monarch, particularly one of such dictatorship, requires massive momentum and synergy; something he cannot produce alone nor without the support of the people

thus, red sun came into existence for the exact same reason you and all the other supporters have joined

in hopes of a sunrise one day that marks a new beginning

a new leadership

except recently he has had growing suspicious of the presence of a traitor within the organisation, which were confirmed the night the safehouse was attacked

“that night…that man was you,” you realise, “and that’s how you know who i am”

he nods, “and that’s also how i know your orders are false.” yunho nudges you playfully with his knee, “pretty sure i never ordered for my own assassination”

yunho continues to explain that he had taken the intruder back for interrogation, but then you frown when he reveals the enemy had swallowed a suicide pill before any information could be gained

he has an inkling that someone in a high position of power is involved, since the pills are almost impossible to gain access to, but it cannot be ruled out as a coincidence

“hang on,” you pull down the top of your tunic in a hurry

yunho scrambles to cover his eyes and turns his head as he jokingly sputters out, “woah okay, this is moving a little fast don’t you think?”

you tug impatiently on the sleeve of his robe, telling him to look

yunho hesitates for another second before lowering his hands and realising you have-

“a suicide pill?”

you look at each other, because this can only mean one thing

the pills are not a coincidence; the enemy is much closer than yunho would like

you’re both unsure how much time there is until the traitor decides to order someone else to assassinate yunho, or worse, decides to finish the job off themselves

but from that very night of discovery, you and yunho work together incessantly against a ticking time bomb

it’s a delicate balance between finding as many leads as you can and spreading out your investigations to stay under the radar

yunho tries to look further into the cyanide pills while you try to uncover any information regarding the order you had been given

whoever is behind it all has kept their tracks hidden well

there isn’t much to report from either of your ends whenever you sneak into the palace to meet up with yunho

but he makes it very hard for you to feel discouraged when he makes your meetings seem like casual catch ups between - you dare say - friends

you have yet to catch him by surprise whenever you drop down from the roof in front of him in an attempt to scare him; he has an uncanny ability to sense your presence

except, you think you prefer being unsuccessful, because your indignant grumbles never fail to bring out his toothy grin and an excited body jiggle

other times he is the one trying to fluster you

“remember that time you literally tried undressing yourself in front of me-”

“i was taking the pill out to show you!”

you bring your thumb and index finger closer together in front of your face and squint at the gap

“i am this close to changing my mind and assassinating you after all”

he gets a kick out of it, pretending to beg for your mercy, “oh please spare me, your majesty”

other times, yunho teases you for always keeping your cowl and mask on

“bet it’s because you’re ugly or something,” he jokes

and you bite back that he had his face covered too when you both met, so you’re one to talk, ugly

“but since then i’ve always shown you my face as the crown prince. you can see me nice and clear,” he suddenly leans forward, so close you can see the dip of his cupid’s brow. “what do you think about me now?”

you swallow hard

you’re glad you have your mask on because you can feel your face rapidly heating up

“i think…” you gently cup his jaw, “you look better with your mask on,” as you nudge his face to the side

you cannot help but join in with your own chuckles at his laughter and boyish glee

and eventually, you two have a breakthrough

yunho manages to trace the cyanide back to a traveling merchant operating under the guise of selling rare herbs and medicine

in the transaction ledger, there is an unusually large purchase under the name of ‘lee minjun’

“i’m sure i’ve seen the name before somewhere, but i can’t remember where,” yunho huffs

you let out your own huff at his elbow that has very naturally taken a rest on your shoulder

pulling out a stack of paper, you spread it out onto the table before you two

they are past records of certain red sun missions that, upon looking back, seem suspicious

“i noticed a mark on a couple of them, a drawing or character perhaps? except none of them are fully intact. it’s almost like the paper was accidentally marked”

you point them out to yunho in hopes that he will have a better idea

he doesn’t - not at first

not until he chances upon two that vaguely align with each other to form a clearer image

“this-” yunho runs his hand through his hair, “this is butler lee’s stamp. my father’s butler.”

the king’s butler?

lee?

your eyes snap to yunho’s, just as his meet yours

“lee minjun”

you sink back in your seat

there’s now definite proof that the king’s butler is at the very least involved

the question of why and what for remains

in fact, you and yunho would not put it past the queen either to be involved too

there is a long moment of shared silence as you both mull over what this means for the future

yunho breaks the silence first

“after this all ends…do you want to work for me, officially?” he clears his throat, “will you stay by my side?”

after this all ends

you two must still uncover butler lee’s motives; likely part of a much grander scheme involving queen jeong too

you two must still bring down the whole monarch; with the support of red sun, yunho needs to sit on his rightful throne

the sun has yet to rise but you can see the faint hues of orange and twilight blue in the horizon

the new beginning is close

and at that, something in you relaxes

crumbles and disintegrates with utter relief

“it would be my honour to stay by your side forever, yunho”

and then you are removing your hood and mask, daring to breathe and feel alive and hopeful for once

ironically, yunho chokes on air

you glance at him to find that he is unable to meet your eyes

you think your eyes are deceiving you because-

the tips of his ears are a glowing red

you could definitely get used to seeing the usually calm and collected crown prince become a shy, blushing mess

the corner of your mouth rises with smugness, “like what you see?”

“you should really keep your hood and mask on,” he mumbles

“and why is that?” you humour him

he finally looks at you

and when he sees the shit-eating grin plastered across your face, his shoulders suddenly fill out again with confidence and cockiness to match yours

“because,” his voice deep and flirtatious, “with a pretty face like that, you’re going to distract me from my duties”

yeosang

pov: you're in an arranged marriage with him

ever since you could understand the words coming out of your parents’ mouths, you have known that you will be married to yeosang

it just made sense

for the respective princess and prince of two powerful kingdoms to join together, leading to increased power and stronger allies

it is tradition for the pair to meet their chosen spouse for the first time only when both parties have turned sixteen, and even then, subsequent meetings are rare until the time of the actual wedding

so you spend the first sixteen years of your life infatuated with the idea of your prince charming - of prince yeosang - wondering what he looks like, what his personality is like, and how you two will fall in love

and when you finally reach that long-awaited first meeting, prince charming is everything and more than what you have envisioned

if angels with broken wings were exiled to earth, they would look like yeosang

he is soft-spoken and slightly reserved, as any awkward teenager meeting their future spouse would be, but you don’t miss the way that his eyes overflow with adoration and his shoulders shake with exuberant giggles whenever his little sister, yeoreum, comes tottering into the room

he always bends down onto one knee to match her eye level, uncaring of the stains that mark his pants even as his mother narrows her eyes in disdain, and he listens with utmost sincerity when yeoreum tells him about the secret pink and glittery fairy she spotted in the courtyard

they remind you of the relationship you share with your own little brother, juwon, who is barely half your age and height, yet has you wrapped around his little finger

you lean down closer with a hum at the soft tug on your dress to hear your little brother whisper conspiratorially into your ear, “he looks stupid”

if looks could kill, yeosang would be dead right now

you stifle a laugh as you flick juwon’s chin affectionately at his sudden display of childish jealousy

if anything, you’re pretty sure you are the one who looks stupid

stupidly in love

because walking away from that first meeting with yeosang and his family, you know that you are absolutely smitten for the prince

unable to quell the restlessness of having to wait until the next unforeseeable meeting, you pick up a quill that very same day you return to your palace and start writing

it takes you all night, the gentle gleams and winks of the stars keeping you company until they rotate shifts with the songs of the waking world

but by the time you have crossed out and scrunched your way through rolls and rolls of parchment paper, you are satisfied with the letter you have written

the letter addressed to prince yeosang, which you task eunju, one of your maids, with passing it to the royal couriers for delivery to the kang palace

it is a simple letter, thanking him for the enjoyable day, yet it holds the deeper message that you are interested in him and would like to become better acquainted before your marriage

you wonder whether his cheeks will flush a pretty red as his butler hands him your letter

whether he will trace his fingers delicately over the curve of your words

whether he will bite back a smile as he pictures you saying the words to him

two weeks pass, and you approximate the letter to have just been delivered to his kingdom

and although you desperately wish for him to immediately sit down with a quill in hand to pen out his reply, you wait and give him a week before you eagerly start counting down the days until the arrival of his letter

your whole life you have been able to wait patiently

you wonder what has changed now that mere weeks feel like an eternity

the day yeosang’s letter is due to arrive, you are sporadic bursts of giggles, twirls and skips throughout the palace

even juwon is starting to become sick of getting swept up into a crushing hug to the cheery tune of i loveee youuuu every single time you pass him

nothing can bring you down from cloud nine

only…the letter never comes

not the day after, not the week after, not the month after

you’re disappointed, of course, but you busy yourself with reasons why yeosang has not replied, and you don’t give up

you send him another letter, and then another, and another

sometimes you just tell him about your day - what made you smile, what made you sad, something interesting you saw, something your little brother said

other times you tell him about yourself - your hobbies, likes and dislikes, aspirations, fears

and you also wonder about him

you ask what he likes, what he smiles at, what makes him sad, what his dreams are

with each letter that you hand over to eunju to be delivered, it becomes harder and harder to stay optimistic - not even the words of encouragement from your favourite maid lifts your spirits

you continue like this for over a year, still yet to receive a reply

until-

you do.

it feels like you are brought back to that very night of your first meeting, feeling so very alive as hope and excitement cascade into your body the moment eunju hands you a letter with a smile

with shaking hands, you fumble to unpeel the wax seal and free the envelope’s contents - a single piece of paper, neatly folded

your mind races with anticipated words and explanations

perhaps he had been too shy to reciprocate your letters earlier

or perhaps your letters had been lost in transit

you unfold the parchment as the hairs on your skin raise in anticipation, only to find it blank save for one scrawled sentence in the middle of the paper-

stop sending me letters.

and just like that, the clock strikes twelve

your carriage reverts into a pumpkin

and your carefully curated story of prince charming disintegrates into ashes

you don’t write to him again.

years later, the stacks of parchment scrolls on the wooden desk of the guest room you are currently residing in feel like a fresh slap in the face each time your eyes land on them

they are a stark reminder of your very own letters, the cold rejection you received, and the irony of the only letter you ever received again following his being one from the kang monarchs, announcing the proceeding of the royal wedding between you and their son

now, only a few days newly-wed to yeosang, the king and queen are gracious enough to let you sleep in one of the guest rooms temporarily, under your claims of adjusting to a life in a new kingdom and as a wife

really, you are trying to avoid yeosang for as long as you can

you spend your time instead getting to know his little sister better, which is why you find yourself sitting side by side with yeoreum, legs dangling off the edge of your bed

she eyes the vase of flowers on your bedside table curiously, “did you buy that?”

“no,” you reach out to touch the baby’s breath, “someone delivered it to my room”

you had offhandedly mentioned to some of your staff the other day that flowers would make your room look more homey, and you had woken up the morning after to find the beautiful vase teeming with flowers next to you

“why?” you ask yeoreum when she hums thoughtfully

“it looks just like the vase in my brother’s room, but he’s weird about it. yeo never lets anyone touch it, much less have it”

you blanch a little, “in that case i’ll give it back to him later then”

“you don’t like it? or…you don’t like my brother? my brother talks about you a lot, you know,” she reveals

caught off-guard by her perceptiveness, you reveal that you have been hurt before

you don’t specify by what exactly or who it is that you’re talking about, but she seems to understand regardless

later that night, sweet yeoreum barges into yeosang’s room and with as much feistiness as she can muster, she glares at her brother and interrogates, “what did you do to make her upset?”

before he can so much as blink, yeoreum concludes, “you boys are dumb. go talk to her and fix it or something,” and then walks out with a huff

there’s no one there to witness it, but yeosang nods anyway

heart feeling a little heavy after your conversation with yeoreum, you head towards the kitchen to seek solace in the sweet pastry you are usually served each morning

the first time you tasted the danish pastry, decorated with strawberries and cream cheese, was when you had traveled to yeosang’s palace at the age of sixteen for your first meeting

you remember the blissful expression that had bloomed across your face with your initial bite, and no dessert ever captivated your tastebuds quite the same way ever again

if there is one good thing out of this arranged marriage with yeosang, then it would be the reunion between yourself and the strawberry danish

“your highness,” the head chef bows, followed by the rest of the staff in the kitchen, “how may we help you?”

when you ask for one of the pastries, the head chef apologises that there are none

“but we can make you one now, if you do not mind waiting”

you tell him not to go to the trouble and ease his worries, “i just thought there may have been leftover pastries”

“we make only one fresh every morning, specifically for you,” the chef explains, and confusion must settle across your features because he adds on, “his highness has expressed that you may like them”

oh?

flustered, you can only muster a short response of, “i do, thank you,” before you smile once more and excuse yourself

because of all people to notice and remember such a small detail, and then to go out of their way to put in the request with the kitchen on the off chance that it was still true, it was yeosang?

first the vase, and now this

you feel something deeply buried inside of you start to stir but you rush to nip it in the bud

your head and your heart are beginning to wage war against each other and suddenly everything feels like it’s too much

when you reach your bedroom, you throw open the double doors to step out onto the balcony, welcoming the chilling breeze of the darkening sky

you’re tired of fearing rejection if you open up

you’re tired of questioning yeosang’s intentions

and on top of it all, you suddenly miss home and you miss your parents and you miss juwon and-

“are you okay?”

yeosang’s soft question startles you, having missed his knocking at your door

he walks closer to join you out on the balcony when he sees that the answer is obviously a no, and he prompts you again, “what’s wrong?”

thoughts of vases and strawberry pastries flit across your mind

you start with half truths

“just missing my little brother”

“you love him a lot, don’t you,” yeosang smiles sweetly, “i can see it in the way you take care of yeoreum”

you can’t help the heat that slowly creeps up the back of your neck and to your ears, because it implies that he’s noticed all the times you’ve showered his little sister with the same love you give to juwon

it implies he’s noticed you

“what’s your fondest memory of juwon?” he asks when you nod

something within you thaws slightly at the fact that yeosang remembers your little brother’s name

you step closer to the edge of the balcony so that you can overlook the garden outside your room a little clearer, resting your hand on the railing as yeosang waits patiently

“we used to have this game we played. we had a lot of gardenia flowers growing around our courtyard and juwon loved cutting some to make me a mini bouquet,” you pause to shake your head with a chuckle, “it drove our mother nuts”

“doesn’t sound like it stopped him from continuing though, did it?” yeosang questions with mirth

“no, it didn’t,” your heart aches with fondness. “he would use a certain number of gardenias and make me guess what phrase containing the same number of letters he had in mind”

it never failed to tug your mouth into a smile whenever juwon giggled at your attempts to guess the flower phrase, even when most times he would bound away whilst singing answers like y-o-u s-t-i-n-k or d-u-m-b d-u-m-b

yeosang supports himself on the railing with one hand as he nearly folds in on himself in laughter, and before you know it, you too are gasping for air and wiping away tears from your eyes

when you both calm down relatively enough, only intermittent chuckles leaving your lips, yeosang clears his throat and scratches his neck awkwardly

“i know it might not be much, but maybe we can go out into town tomorrow and it might take your mind off things? and we can bring yeoreum along if that makes you feel more comfortable, because you’ve probably spent more time alone with her than you have with me?”

you don’t admit it, but you’re already feeling a little better, so you decide to tease, “are you asking me out on a date right now, kang yeosang?”

“oh, well, we’d be doing things a little backwards since we’re already like, married…but, yes? maybe? is that okay?”

it’s yeosang’s turn to flush a deep red as his usually composed demeanor is reduced to stutters, but you don��t notice under the faint glow cast by the moon now reigning the sky

“yeah, that’s okay”

you and yeosang smile fondly as your little trio stroll through a nearby town the following morning, his younger sister skipping ahead to peer at the colourful trinkets being sold at the market stalls, and your own small squad of royal soldiers following behind at a respectful distance

it’s kind of endearing how yeosang points out item after item, asking whether you like it or whether you find it pretty, in a not-so-subtle attempt to learn about your preferences

you have to stop him from buying you something from every second stall you both pass, but you’re unable to convince him from purchasing a small wooden toy as a gift for juwon, insisting that you give it to your little brother the next time you see him

the more you actually interact and talk with yeosang, the harder you find it to associate him with the memory of the yeosang in your rejected letters

because the equation of the letters, the vase and the pastries just does not add up

as you two sit under the awning of a small shop, watching yeoreum play with the shopkeeper’s dog, you find yourself unable to hold back anymore

“why didn’t you reply to my letters?” you break the silence, trying to hide the hurt laced in your voice

yeosang looks at you with wide eyes as his mouth stutters open

and in the smallest voice you have ever heard him speak with, he says

“you wrote me letters?”

your eyebrows knit together as your eyes dart back and forth between his, searching for any hint of deception

“too many to count,” you confess, “until you sent a letter telling me to stop…”

“impossible. i never got your letters”

your head recoils back as you try to make sense of his words, “but-”

“wait,” he interrupts

yeosang reaches into his robes, pulling out a small, wooden block, extending it out closer to you as he asks, “do you recognise this?”

upon closer inspection, you realise it’s a square seal stamp

it has the character ‘姜’ carved into it and you’ve seen it enough times to know it represents the kang family name - but the inscription that stylises the border is unfamiliar

“not the seal, no”

he swallows apprehensively, “i stamp all my letters with this to certify authenticity”

you let his words sink in as they throw you into a sandstorm of bewilderment

“but then-”

but then who wrote the letter?

and where did all your letters go?

the only people who would have known about them would be the royal couriers and…eunju

a memory flashes through your mind - the moment she handed you a letter with a smile

no, not a smile, you realise

a smirk

you are simultaneously overwhelmed with betrayal, guilt and apologeticness

yeosang doesn’t push you for a response, and you come to recognise that you are also grateful

“i’m sorry for doubting you,” you tell him

it’s nowhere close to the amount of things you want to confess, but it is a start, one that yeosang picks up on and understands immediately

“no, i’m sorry you felt the need to doubt me,” he offers. “that i didn’t make you feel loved enough”

“but i did, actually. the vase and the pastries, then our conversation last night…and even today”

he blushes a deep red as you list the things off with your fingers

“you weren’t meant to find out about the first two,” yeosang admits as he ducks his head shyly

then he suddenly perks up with a sudden thought

he ruffles inside his satchel that had been abandoned to one side, mumbling, “my sister said i did something to upset you…so i um, got you these”

he turns around to reveal a bouquet of flowers, looking a little rough for wear after being hidden in his bag all morning, but his clumsy consideration only serves to makes your heart skip dangerously

“forgive me?” he asks cheekily, and you both giggle at the absurdity of his question because it should very well be the other way around

“if you insist,” you take the bouquet into your hands

and finally, you allow the chains around your heart to fall away, “i can’t say no to my husband, can i?”

yeosang lets out a little squeak as you look at the bouquet more clearly, counting the number of flowers

you turn to ask if he remembers the game you told him about, but the way yeosang suddenly finds the patch of dirt near his foot absolutely fascinating tells you everything that you need to know

eight flowers

eight letters

i l-o-v-e y-o-u

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loveisanimaginarydagger3000 · 8 months

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Kinktober (6)- Love Bites

Natasha X Reader 18+

Summary: Tied and blindfolded to the bed leaves you desperate for Natasha but she's adamant on letting you know you’re hers.

Warnings/Tags: SMUT MDNI, Fingering, Oral Sex, Blindfolds, Restraints, Multiple Orgasms, Praise

Kinktober Masterlist

“Nat,” you sighed out, head lolling to the side at the feeling of her mouth on your neck, teeth scraping over the column of your throat. She hummed in response, the vibrations tickling your neck and making a shiver travel down your spine. “Please stop teasing me,” you groaned out when her fingers lowered to your core, teasing you through the lace panties you were wearing that were now slick with your arousal.

“You’re so wet for me love,” she mutters against your neck, nibbling the skin till it turns red then soothing over the mark with her tongue. You whimper at the feeling of her warm and wet tongue tracing along the column of your throat as she licks a broad stripe up it, mouth disappearing for a moment making you frown. You listened closely, unable to see the spy due to the blindfold securely wrapped around your eyes, trying to listen to any movements but unsuccessful as she was a trained assassin after all. “Do you really need me that bad?” she whispers, your body jumping at the sound of her voice right next to your ear.

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation, hips grinding upwards against her fingers, attempting to seek any sort of pleasure. She pressed her lips to yours briefly before pulling away and returning to your neck and letting out another hum.

“Such a shame you’ll have to wait then,” the redhead purred, going back to lavishing your neck in small marks. Natasha loved you when you were like this, blindfolded and tied to the bed and practically naked, a blank canvas for her to mark, to claim, to ruin. “I want to take my time with you Dorogaya,” her tone dropped an octave before her mouth sucked harder on the juncture of your neck. A sinful noise escaped you at the feeling, your hands struggling against the silk ties while she smirked into the already bruising skin.

It felt like she spent hours kissing down your body, littering it in more marks that only you and her would see. You could tell your chest was definitely going to be covered in purple and red dots with the way her mouth worked on you there.

Moans tumbles out of your mouth when she pauses marking your body, her tongue teasingly giving your nipple little kitten licks. Your back arched off the bed in an attempt to get her to take your breast into her mouth, suck on it and play with it how you desperately needed her to.

“Natasha,” you groaned out in frustration, her adamant to drive you insane, “Please just touch me, fuck me, use me, whatever you want just please hurry up.”

“Whatever I want,” she rasps out, her Russian accent delicately wrapping around her words, “Well Dorogaya, I want to go slow.” You whimpered at her words, her mouth gradually going down your body once again, her face seemingly now near your core based on her hot breath tickling your inner thighs. Her mouth attaches to your inner thighs, kissing and sucking the skin, leaving even more marks wherever she can.

Her fingers finally pull down your panties after minutes of torturing you with the feeling of her so close to where you want her yet so far. A broken moan escapes you when she suddenly licks up from your dripping entrance to your swollen clit, the slow and tortuous pace now replaced by pure hunger and desire. She moans into you at the taste of your arousal, you calling out her name when she sucks hard on your clit, slipping a finger into you at the same time. Her finger curls against your g-spot with every brutal thrust, her tongue drawing random patterns on your clit that has you seeing stars.

“Oh God,” you groan out when she slides in another slender finger, your back arching off the bed while your hips buck against her hand and mouth. Her other hand wraps around and holds you down, stopping you from frantically rutting against her face and taking control of the pace once again. Her fingers somehow seem to speed up, now mercilessly fucking you as a guttural moan is ripped from the back of your throat. “Fuck, right there, yes,” you babble as she eats you out like she’s starved.

Soon, your hips try to fight against her strong grip, your hands gripping the silk till so hard your hands bleed white, as you near your orgasm. “I’m gonna come,” you moan out, Natasha moaning in response and sending you over the edge. Your legs shook as your vision clouded for a second, mind hazy as her fingers and tongue didn't stop till you came again.

“I can’t,” you managed out when she tried to make you come again, her instantly slowing her movements down and not pushing you too far.

“Good girl for telling me,” She praised, while kissing her way back up, “You did so well for me.” She pressed a small kiss to your cheek, your eyes fluttering open when she took your blindfold off to see her green ones gazing lovingly into yours.

“Cuddle me?” you whisper, entranced by her eyes.

“Of course, my love,” her hands swiftly united your own before wrapping around your middle and pulling you on top of her, your head on her chest.

***

The next morning when you climbed out of bed and made your way into the bathroom, flicking on the light, a small gasp left your lips at the sight of your body in the mirror. Dark purple marks that would be extremely hard to cover adorned your neck, various others scattered around your body.

Arms snaked around your middle as her body became flushed against yours, head resting on your shoulder as she stared at your body in the reflection.

“God, you look so beautiful covered in my marks,” she murmured at the crook of your neck, a smirk plastered on her face. “Mine,” she mutters, playfully biting your neck once again to make you laugh.

“Yours."

#marvel fanfiction #eventual smut #smut #natasha fanfic #natasha #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff oneshot #kinktober #gxg smut #marvel smut #rough smut #soft smut #scarlett johansson #black widow x reader #black widow

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thought--bubble · 7 months

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Aemond X (Baratheon! Reader)

In Need Of an Heir Part 1

Warnings Below

Word Count: 2,289

In Need Of an Heir master list

Canon Era Aemond Masterlist

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Banners by @arcielee

Warnings: nothing yet, really. Mentions of war, mention of murder, arraigned marriage. Brief mention of possible noncon.

He picked you. Somehow, a prince, an actual prince, came in and chose to marry you. The excitement of that scenario was all too short lived with the arrival of another prince.

When Prince Lucerys entered the hall, you barely registered what he was saying, still riding out the high of being chosen to be a princess. That high quickly turned to dread as you watched the handsome prince turn into a vengeful and violent man. Your stomach dropped as he asked your father to take his leave without sparing you a second glance on his way out. The fairy-tale Princes you had read about as a girl he was not.

That would be the last time you would see him for quite a while. Which was preferable to you since he murdered his own nephew immediately after leaving. A fact that left you devastated. You couldn't possibly still marry this maniac, This kinslayer with a god complex. You thought surely your father would cancel the betrothal or at least alter it so you would marry the less psychotic Prince Daeron instead.

This murder plunged the realm into war, delaying the marriage plans much to your relief. You tried to reason with your parents. Saying you couldn't marry a crazed violent kinslayer. That your children would be cursed or he might kill you if you say or do the wrong thing. Your mother shared this concern, but your father was steadfast in his belief that this would elevate his house's standing in the realm, and you would do your duty and marry as you were told.

Months into the war, your father receives news that angers him so much that his yelling and screaming can be heard throughout the castle. Prince Aemond, your betrothed, had married. A strong bastard witch, and to top it all off, she was pregnant. Your father sent ravens to Harenhal that went unanswered. Your father took this as the greatest sign of disrespect.

This was welcome news to you. The betrothal would, of course, have to be called off now. You didn't even mind the insult. Now you would be free to wed someone else. Someone who didn't terrify you. Someone who wasn't actively burning half the realm in anger.

Your father knew it was too late to pull his support for the greens. He had been fighting alongside them for months. But he would not let this disrespect go unchecked. So a plan was put in motion to get rid of the problem. An assassin was paid, and news of the pregnant witches' death spread across the realm. Much to your horror.

When you received the news, you felt sick. knowing that your father would now demand the marriage continue as planned. Thoughts of a woman being murdered to make room for a marriage you didn't even want. the poor woman who was taken as a spoil of war. What choice did she have? Did she love the prince? Did he just not want to father a bastard thus he married her after forcing himself upon her? Did they truly marry? Was she killed for no reason? She received a death sentence all because of the prince's depravity. The same Prince your father was still determined to have you marry.

The war finally came to an end. The Greens having been successful in their reclaiming of Kings Landing. You had heard the story of Daemon Targaryen trying to goad Aemond into fighting him above the gods eye. Daemon was unsuccessful in getting word to Aemond that he was even there. You felt this was another cruel joke from the gods. Trapping you, making all chances to escape your fate impossible. Aemond and Criston Cole instead fought their way back to kings landing and reclaimed the kingdom. Rhanyera was caught and sentenced to death, and Daemon was finally brought to an end when he fell to Aemonds sword when he attempted to free her.

With the news that the war was over, a collective sigh of relief was shared across the realm by everyone. Except you. There was nothing stopping the marriage now, and as a woman and daughter of a lord paramount, there was little you could do to save yourself from the fate that awaited you.

What if the Prince knew it was your father who had his first wife killed? What if he decided to punish you for it? What of the way he had taken that woman as a spoil of war? Was he depraved in the way the king was known for? Would he inflict those depravities upon you?

You again tried to reason with your father, but he would hear nothing of it, especially now that Aegons sons had perished during the war, and he was too injured to sire anymore. Aemond would one day be king and you queen, and your first born son would be king after that. All Borros could see is that his grandson would one day be king. He couldn't be bothered with your silly feminine concerns. So, less than a moons time after the war officially came to an end, you were sent on your way to Kings landing.

The trip was long but nowhere near long enough. You kept asking for breaks, saying you were getting sick from the motion of the carriage trying any excuse to delay your arrival.

That only worked for so long, your brother Royce and your septa had been sent to escort you. Royce had picked up on the fact that you were attempting to delay the inevitable and had lost his patience. He demanded that the carriage only be stopped upon his request, and he did not request it often. All too soon, you were closing in on the Red Keep.

Your septa is whispering in your ear about how you must present yourself. Proper courtesies, etc. Your brother has a look of extreme boredom on his face.

"I hope they have a meal ready for us. I am sick of eating this on the road rubbish" he muses

Your septa gives him a stern look and returns to you flattening out your hair and fussing over your dress.

"She looks fine. He picked her out of all of them, did he not? If he no longer wants her, I have no problem turning this carriage and bringing her home"

Your eyes light up. "We could just turn around now?" You say looking at your brother with a fake smile.

"Your sister may very well be queen someday." Your septa interrupts."Since King Aegon has named Prince Aemond heir, She must carry herself with the dignity of a future queen!"

"Yeah, King Kinslayer and his Baratheon Bride," your brother chuckles as your stomach plummets and your face blanches.

Your septa is taken aback. "Young lord Baratheon, you mustn't speak like that," she leans in whispering. "The Prince is not known for his forgiving manner."

Royce nods to her. " I must be losing my head. This trip was too long, " he laughs while raising his eyebrows.

"Royce, this is nothing to jest at! You very well might lose your head as will I. We should call this off and go home!" You say giving one last desperate attempt

"What a splendid idea! the Prince would love that we agreed to come, and then we do not." he looked at you like you were an imbecile.

The carriage comes to a stop, and you immediately feel a wave of nausea come over you.

"Lord Royce Baratheon and his sister Lady Y/N Baratheon!" You hear the knight call out as the door to the carriage is opened. Your brother steps out and then stands to the side, offering you his hand for your balance. And thank the 7 that he does because you are not currently steady on your feet. When you exit the carriage, the sun feels too bright, the air too hot, your legs too heavy, your dress too tight.

Your septa comes out quickly after you and all 3 of you are staring up at the dowager queen alicent.

"Welcome" she says "I apologize that the king and prince are unable to properly welcome you they are engaged in a council meeting at the moment. Come with me and I will show you to your chambers"

You let out a sigh of relief.

"When will I meet with the king and prince?" Royce asked, his voice carrying an undertone of annoyance.

"At dinner, Lord Baratheon," the dowager queen responded as prim and proper as ever.

You arrived at your chambers bid your brother and the dowager queen farewell and entered. The bedchamber was nice. A bit bigger than the one you had back home. Adorned with red and black fabrics for the curtains and bedlinens. Candles strategically placed so that when lit in the darkness of night, one would still be able to navigate around the chamber. There is a small desk and chair, and a small padded chaise sits before the large window overseeing the gardens.

You sit on the chaise and look out to the gardens. Trying to remember all the dreams you had as a young girl. The Delusions of what being a princess would be like. Maybe you could convince yourself that this new life would be as wondrous as you had imagined all of those years ago.

There is a light tap on your chamber door. It's much too light to be male, so you ask the visitor to enter. In walks a young chamber maid. Her light brown hair braided and coiled onto her head eyes downcast.

"Hello my lady, I am here to help you prepare for dinner"

"Thank you," you respond softly. "What is your name?" You had always had close relationships with the chamber maids back home. Those relationships were a comfort to you in times of high stress.

"Amber my lady" she responds timidly.

You greet her kindly and move to the unpacked chest with the dresses you brought from home.

"I haven't yet chosen a dress to wear, I am quite unsure of which one would befit an introductory dinner such as this, would you help me choose?" You hope that acts like this, where you and your chambermaid work together will help build the foundation for a comfortable relationship. You are about to be alone in the capital and desperately want to have at least one relationship that provides comfort.

"Yes my lady"

The two of you begin sorting through the dresses and Amber pulls out a sapphire blue dress. The dress is fitted at the top and flows out beautifully under the bust. The sleeves are full length but are sheer past the elbows.

"This one will be perfect. Prince Aemond does so like this color"

Your stomach drops at the mention of his name. A stark reminder of just exactly what this dinner is for.

"Do you know him well? The Prince I mean?"

"I don't know if anyone does if I'm to be honest my lady"

You feel the knot in your stomach tightening.

You are quiet for the rest of dressing your mind going a mile a minute with thoughts.

Maybe he is shy? Could a mass murderer be shy? If no one knows the real him, is there a reason he hides it? A sinister reason? A reason his lady wife might be doomed to find out?

You are pulled from your thoughts by another knock on the door. This one is louder. More self-assured. That is certainly a male knock. Would your betrothed walk you to dinner? Could that be him on the other side of the door? You make no moves toward the door. You do not call out. You just stand in place.

Amber stands looking at you and realizes that you are not going to answer the door and answers if herself.

"Good Evening, is the Lady prepared for dinner?" The voice of Royce causes a tingling sensation to go through your body. The relief causing a feeling that borders on euphoric.

"Yes, my lord"

He enters your chambers and smiles at you.

"Come, sister, I am starved!"

You laugh lightly. Royce is the type of personality that is never burdened with fear or worry. He prides himself on his ability to take things as they come and adapt accordingly.

You link your arm around him and he leads you out of your chambers.

"Do you know where we are going?"

"I was shown earlier. I am hoping my memory serves. If not, we shall wander about until we find it or someone comes looking for us. " he laughs, tapping his free hand on your arm.

"Don't be nervous. You are the daughter of a lord paramount and the sister of a future lord paramount. If he does not treat you accordingly you need just let me know ok? You may marry into house Targaryen but house Baratheon will always back you"

You look towards your brother a look of shock and relief on your face. It is very rare that your brother speaks in such a serious manner, but you are thankful for it. The ever protective brother.

"Ahh, my sense of direction serves me once again." He says loudly as you come upon to large doors with two knights standing on either side of them.

"Come," he lowers his voice. "Head high. Show no fear. You are a Baratheon, we cower to no one"

Your brother and you stand before the large doors as the knights open them and announce your arrival.

"Lord Royce Baratheon, Lady Y/N Baratheon"

You and Royce share one last glance and step through the doors.

Part 2

To be added to tag list click here

A/N: Blame my disassociation issue for this one! I had a lot of fun mapping out how to tie in all the scenes I imagined into a fun story.

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neonscandal · 5 months

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Manga with Me: Sad SatoSugu Edition (Because That's Literally the Only Flavor There Is)

So I mentioned wanting to list out all the canonically most heartrending things I could think of as it pertains to Satosugu during an Anon Ask sometime ago and since the Christmas holiday is nigh upon us... what better time (because I started this a while ago)? If you would like to wallow in the heartbreak, you can always peruse this tag because this is truly something that rots my brain on the reg. So let's get into it, let's recount all the details that bounce around my head like an old school DVD logo in case anyone else wanted to be miserable too.

Part 1 | Part 2

⚠️ Spoiler Warning: Includes information up to chapter 236. This will be an exhaustive list to include details that haven't been animated. If you want to stay spoiler free, stop reading when you see the ⚠️

A/N: This basically just turned into an overly indulgent retelling of everything that happened because all of it is sad? Read at your own risk.

Let's start with a little bit of autobiography so we're all on the same page.

Gojo Satoru, heir to not only one of the Big Three sorcerer families but inheritor of their two familial cursed techniques. The occurrence of which hadn't been recorded for a century. His birth effectively tilted the scales and, subsequently, is responsible for the stronger breed of curses that sprung up to create balance in the world (in the same way Sukuna's finger woke other curses). We don't know much about his family except that he's been the target of unsuccessful assassination attempts since he was a kid. Subsequently, he's got an untempered ego that's largely unchecked and an unexplored power ceiling.

Why we love him: Real ones recognized a deeply traumatized person who hides it with a smile. ✨ Little did we know, the missing piece to that origin is what lurks in the shadows.

Geto Suguru, strong in his own right and implicitly guided by the belief that the weak should be protected. Leans into this enlightened ideal by also donning iconography that likens him to Buddha well before he considered being a cult leader. In my opinion (since I said this would be canonical, this needs to be called out as a headcanon), I think this was done to kind of cover the spread of his own insecurity coming into Jujutsu High as a society outsider. Especially when you consider Gojo's in his class.

Why we love him: While they appear to not get along, they really look to one another for balance. Ideologically and morally, Gojo will consider his perspective as he's the first person to really call Gojo on his flippancy and yoke him up. We love to see it.

CHRONOLOGICAL and rapid fire

They are two of only three special grade sorcerers at the time, the other being Yuki Tsukumo. It promotes this identity tied to their strength which Gojo is frequently sizing others up (sorry, Utahime) but also undoubtedly inspires a level of comfort Gojo probably hadn't known previously, to know that he had someone he could rely on.

In this, we see that Geto tuts at Gojo, keeping him in line from a social and moral perspective. He also weighs keeping the peace of citizens' minds believing that society should protect the weak and keep the strong in check. He rationalizes that jujutsu exists to protect non-sorcerers as if its their righteous responsibility. Sidebar: I love that the anime shows this convo taking place in a gym to visually use their shots missing vs going in as another way to show how they're at odds.

Subsequently, tasked with increasingly dangerous missions even though they are just kids because there's a shortage of strong sorcerers. There's a shortage of sorcerers at all. Undoubtedly, creates a sense of superiority in both and, likely, a greater sense of responsibility in Geto. As though the stronger he gets, the stakes continue to get higher as well.

Assigned a mission which effectively could impact the fate of the world wherein they have to protect Riko Omanai, another child and the Star Plasma Vessel, who is selected to merge with Tengen. Unbeknownst to us at the time but, even as students, they realized how shitty that was and had agreed unanimously to allow whatever Riko wanted to happen, whether she chose life or merge. Gojo propositioned it first and Geto's half-assed warning was simply that they might have to fight Tengen. Their overconfidence here kills me? But, essentially, protecting the weak and keeping the strong in check also meant enforcing what was right regardless of the mission and, more over, they could likely contextualize how unfair it was that they were child soldiers, as well.

Even with their difference in opinion or ideology, Gojo is reassured by the fact that, regardless of the demands of the mission, "we're the strongest". Which is huge when you consider that, for the longest time, he was always wary of others, likely kept people at arms' length, always had to protect others, etc.

I can only imagine the number of silly goofy selfies these idiots exchanged while on missions together or apart. Again, it just undercuts how, in spite of everything else, they were just goofballs.

This, I think, is important. Geto was the first person to rationalize Riko's desires to still go to school and be amongst her friends to Gojo. Geto had a sense of protecting the youthful life she knew from the start. Letting her enjoy herself was a part of the mission Tengen specified but Geto seemed moved by it without influence. Even if Gojo initially mentioned "calling it off" if the Star Plasma Vessel didn't want to move forward, this indicates the importance of, not just living (which Gojo will defend because he can), but living well which Geto is in support of.

Geto reassures Kuroi that she is Riko's family and, we can extrapolate, that he probably has his own bonds that are not blood but are still beloved like family. Even then.

Something I didn't take into consideration before but... it's Geto's fault/carelessness that gets Kuroi kidnapped. This likely causes a snowball effect of guilt as everything else transpires and ultimately leads him to his breaking point.

The fact that, where Gojo was once really intolerant of frivolity during the Star Plasma Vessel mission, he decided to show compassion by allowing for sightseeing and an extended stay in Okinawa, likely after taking Geto's previous rationale under advisement. Life is more than just surviving, afterall.

Usually when someone is strong, people lack the ability to comprehend or acknowledge their possible vulnerability. But Geto unabashedly expresses concern for Gojo potentially wearing himself out at the expense of extending their stay. It's small but its something expressed amongst equals and is shown to be such as Gojo says, "You're here too." TBH this altered my brain chemistry. Probably altered Geto's brain chemistry too. Can you imagine that reciprocation of trust and safety?? Ego boost.

What's especially funny about the exchange is highlighted by Geto's typical characterization as the fox eyed character or "kitsune no me" (even if its inconsistent). It can imply wisdom or someone who is mischievous. Given his other style choices, I assume its more for the wise aesthetic. But when he checks up on Gojo he gives the classic one-eye-open visual cue of being focused but with an air of confidence in response. Like, just puff out your chest and tell him you love him, already.

Literally, the soft way Geto watches Gojo be an immature little shit. For all the banter at the beginning of their origin story, this panel and, honestly, Okinawa really demonstrated how Gojo was endeared to Geto which hits a climax when they get back to Jujutsu High.

We only see Geto lose his cool when harm comes to Gojo. Toji getting the drop on Gojo was a shock to everyone but Geto sprung into action.

The fact that the first time Geto gives into his confidence and echoes Gojo's belief that "we're the strongest,", believing that, between the two of them, they could protect Riko's future... is precisely when Toji guns her down?? BRO. Irrevocably shattered his whole world view in a moment.

We only see Geto lose his cool when he believes harm has come to Gojo.

The fatal flaw in the Star Plasma Vessel mission was truly their combined hubris from being strong individually and being doubly reassured by their confidence in one another. Combine that with their loftiness of being sorcerers and it exposed them to a predator who doesn't need cursed energy to see footprints. The simplicity of it is aggravating. Toji's whole plan focused on a false sense of security but they were effectively already surrounded by an insulated false sense of security because of their power and standing in jujutsu society.

Moreover, the fact that Toji made such a big to do about how to defeat the Six Eyes but voiced the fact that Geto was negligible so long as he wasn't a shikigami user. Even if they were both strong, it still presents this idea that Gojo was stronger, he was the bigger threat.

Mind you, they were both bested by the same person BUT THE FACT THAT THEY BOTH LATER ESPOUSE SOME ELEMENT OF TOJI'S ESSENCE?? Geto takes on his vernacular (re: monkeys and essentially equates jujutsu as an evolution) and Gojo takes on the fit (which is crazy). More specifically, the fact that down the line, Gojo takes Toji's "Blessing" and Geto inherits his curse[d worm]. Ya know, maybe I was wrong about JJK antagonists because Toji really is the fork in the socket for a lot of what ends up happening.

This, is quite honestly, one of the most disrespectful coincidences of the whole ordeal because, while Geto shares physical characteristics with the Buddha and generally has a more humble and righteous understanding of the world, when Gojo experiences his power up at the beginning of his second fight with Toji, he experiences what we can assume is enlightenment as he boasts "Throughout heaven and earth, I alone am the Honored One,". In many ways, this is just another thing scratching at the foundation of who they are.

Geto and Gojo are constantly set at odds, ideologically is the least of their differences as they learn to take one another's perspectives under consideration. The divide comes from Geto, born of non-sorcerers, who has a cursed technique that forces him to ingest curses which he equates to swallowing a cloth that had been used to wipe up vomit. How can one be clean and pure when forced to regularly imbibe something so disgusting? It makes sense as to how he solemnly would feel this sacrifice to be noble and necessary in practice with the tradeoff of being able to help the weak. Gojo, born into a sorcerer family, has cursed techniques that not only prevent the need to even touch a curse but also allows time and space to think through whatever comes his way as a Six Eyes user. An argument could be made for nurture vs nature respectively but, ultimately, I think the chasm between hard work vs natural talent is what breeds bitter resentment down the line which is further embodied in this moment. Where Geto tries to do right and walk the straight and narrow as best he could, it is still Gojo who is blessed with the enlightenment that should come with such discipline. What I also find interesting about this is the fact that, as someone who chooses to dress and carry themselves as Geto does, his undoing is ultimately tied to other famous Buddhist quotes that speak of finding sanctuary only within oneself and how attachment is the root of all suffering. It feels like in looking to Gojo, relying on Gojo, being attached to Gojo.. it filled a hole that was present within Geto and wasn't sated by his discipline or moral compass.

The above is also shown in how Gojo could immediately find where Toji was with all the hideouts where Geto had to work harder to still show up late. Everything is just so easy with the Six Eyes or I suppose that's how Geto started to feel.

The fact that, knowing they were equals before his power up, Gojo lied about Shoko healing him when Geto asked. Gojo, at the unset, haughtily believed that the strong shouldn't make excuses for their strength, and yet, hid a facet of his strength from Geto, the person who understood the burden of power best.

Gojo accepted blame for messing up during the Star Plasma Vessel when, empirically, Geto lost Kuroi first and failed as the second line of defense against Toji. I wonder how Geto felt hearing that admission when his own guilt was probably swelling within him.

After everything, Gojo still turns to Geto to determine what's right, questioning whether there needs to be a reason to kill the Time Vessel Association followers as they celebrate Riko's death.

Riko's death and their subsequent failure saw Gojo spending the year to optimize his power and prevent being felled by any vulnerability going forward. Geto was effectively sidelined and recognized the disparity between them as Satoru became "the strongest". Even so, with all of Gojo's bells and whistles, with Six Eyes at his disposal, he could not really see Geto's descent or chose not to properly address it because Gojo was never really one with typical emotional responses. It's something he goes into greater depth with Nanami in the light novels, acknowledging his lack of emotional intelligence.

As with his birth, which saw an increase in powerful curses born to keep the balance, his latent power up also had consequences like more frequent curse spawnings. This kept them busy and, as we discover apart. Since he could handle more missions on his own, by default, now Geto had to as well. They were the strongest together but they were together less and less. This effectively sent Geto further down a spiral and moral dilemma.

In spite of not being seen by Gojo during his time of strife, his first impulse when asked what kind of souvenir he'd like is to lean toward something Gojo would want. We don't know much about Geto's preferred tastes (anything is better than vomit rag) but this concession is so touching. Like, previously, we see where Gojo considers Geto time and time again when faced with a moral gray area but the consideration does go both ways.

When assessed to be a good person by Haibara, Geto challenges the idea which we can infer stems from his shift in worldview but, I also question if it is a manifestation of how he may feel about Gojo's power up, too.

The premise of Geto's defection can be broken down if we were to liken non-jujutsu sorcerers to harmless sheep. If curses and cursed users are wolves, then sorcerers are the guard dogs that protect the herd, lucky to have teeth to fight back. Geto believed it to be the duty of the sorcerers to protect the weak but hadn't confronted that even humans are capable of grotesque things, they are just as susceptible to evil. Riko's death illustrated this while also challenging his ability to protect. With the shortage of sorcerers, why must they sacrifice themselves for the good of those who are equally capable of being monsters, regardless of their perceived weakness? Haibara's death reiterated that there was no point for such sacrifice when such a fate can befall someone so good and wholesome. The nail in the coffin was, of course, finding the twins who'd been abused and imprisoned by humans because they could manipulate cursed energy.

We only see Gojo lose his cool when it comes to Geto. The reveal of his crimes, against the villagers and his own parents is outrageous given his rigid stance but that really doesn't have a place in jujutsu society. Those who cannot bend... break. As one of the only other special grade sorcerers, the fact that Gojo must subsequently become Geto's executioner is cruel and unusual punishment.

Again, we don't know much about Geto's tastes but we know that he'll ask for sweets for Gojo and carries a lighter for Shoko and that's really heartbreaking because I think we can infer he considers them family.

We only see Gojo lose his cool when it comes to Geto. Screaming about murder in front of a chicken joint is one thing, but when you find out that KFC is really popular on Christmas, there's an added layer of zest that really just twists the knife.

"Are you the strongest because you're Satoru Gojo? Or are you Satoru Gojo because you're the strongest." This was like... a critical hit when I read it. Up until this point, they were a unit who only had one another to rely on. Geto could recognize Gojo beyond Limitless, beyond Six Eyes as Satoru. There's safety and comfort in feeling understood by someone especially when you've lived a life so isolated. They were on a first name basis. While Geto had been undeniably stewing for months and suffering this turmoil, this moment is what finally pulls the rug from under Gojo. It's the moment that Geto does what everyone else does. Always burdened by his strength and now, the only person who sought to understand him beneath the weight of it all just conflated him with his power. It shakes Gojo's sense of self. Later, I think Geto thought this drove a wedge between them, likely as intended. But we know that, for Gojo, it didn't. Further, it was like an abdication of his place amongst the strongest. He acknowledged that Gojo was capable of forging the world as Geto wanted but never once asks him to join him. This also altered my brain chemistry? Because, as we've seen, Gojo would follow Geto's direction as his moral compass. Down the line, we also know that nothing changed Gojo's perspective on Geto. But Geto never bothered to ask.

Gojo couldn't follow orders and kill Geto. When Geto turns his back to him with a simple "if you want to kill me, kill me. There's meaning in that too," I wonder what went through Gojo's head. But when asked why he let him go, Yaga doesn't need words to understand. We also see that Geto's words, as intended, struck a chord within Gojo. This conversation is especially interesting because we see the flip side of what Geto couldn't consider. With all of Gojo's power, even he knows being strong isn't enough. His technique is famous for what it keeps away which is offset by the fact that Gojo is someone who craves connection.

The fact that cult leader Geto chooses to masquerade as a monk is not surprising, again, he'd been lightly cosplaying all throughout high school. But the fact that Akutami gave him a gojo-gesa? Akutami is a sadist.

The irony of Geto adopting Nanako and Mimiko and Gojo taking in Megumi and Tsumiki is not lost on me. They both tried to protect the youth of Riko and we can see how they understand that they are not allowed protection because they are strong... but then take on children? Geto seems to do so with different intentions, still protecting the weak. Gojo is basically forging his own battle bro and hoping that, by making all subsequent students strong they won't know the loneliness he suffers.

With JJK0, we see that ignoring the orders of elders is actually not at all uncommon for the strongest sorcerer. Whether that be carry out a 10 year death sentence against his bestie or anyone else deemed too powerful to control is really just dependent upon how Gojo feels about it. So he saves those the elders seek to destroy starting with Yuta by finding common ground in their loneliness. He presses forward in the face of the elders because they are "trying to take away the best years of your youth like that. There's no way I'm gonna let them do that. No matter who you are." It's something he knows all too well.

"I've always believed... love manifests the most distorted curses."

Here's what we know of last words and wills in JJK. We can infer that those who receive the last wishes of someone dying are cursed to see them through. We see that with Yuji and his grandfather as pointed out by Yaga. Even Nanami, before passing, worries his last wish would be a curse and a burden to Yuji so he chooses to send him with words of encouragement. Miguel makes a half-assed threat to curse Geto should he die in battle against Gojo. As we see in JJK 0... Yuta, the living, actually cursed the near departed Rika by begging her to stay and it is a manifestation of one of loves most twisted curses.

The fact that, even after 10 years... Geto will arbitrarily change someone's name so it rings a little closer to "Satoru" was one thing. BUT WHEN YOU HEAR THE WAY THE GETO VOICE ACTOR PURRS "SATORU" IN SEASON TWO!? I just- the affection is still there.

THE FACT THAT, EVEN AFTER 10 YEARS, GOJO STILL RECOGNIZES GETO'S RESIDUALS. Let a SatoSugu-anti explain this, please. Heterosexually. Because I've had friends who I've regularly seen over the course of 10 years and I still wouldn't be able to pick the homies out in a scent line up.

Even after 10 years... they still refer to one another on a first name basis. Culturally, it speaks to a comfortable intimacy, wouldn't you think?

As Toge and Panda sprung into action to defend Maki and Yuta, I wonder if it struck a chord of remembrance in Geto. For the times he'd lept to defend Gojo. is that what evoked his tears in that moment?

Their final exchange on paper is bad enough. But the fact that they set it to a musical score called "This Is Pure Love" in the movie?? Get out of my face. Outside of the JJK 0 parameter and nestled within the story around Shibuya, we see that Geto thought that their KFC fight ended their friendship. But we see, through Gojo's trust that Geto wouldn't kill his students and the reciprocation of not killing any of Geto's family members... Gojo's feelings never changed. They still know the inner machinations of one another's minds, even after all this time, but Geto couldn't see that.

Gojo effortlessly makes Geto smile once more with words we still don't know after Geto talks about not being truly happy from the bottom of his heart. Sir, if you don't malewife your way back to Gojo's side and put down the eugenics... SO HELP ME.

In Japan, Christmas Eve is considered one of if not thee most romantic holidays of the year. It's a lover's holiday where Gojo and Geto reunited and Gojo was finally forced to carry out his sentencing. Even so, having been killed with cursed energy, Gojo could not bring himself to destroy the body of his best friend. His one and only. This sentimentality is what leaves Geto's body susceptible to the likes of Kenjaku who works in the shadows and hyper aware of, not only Gojo's affection for Geto as his weakness, but also his ability to intimately recognize his residuals.

The fact that Geto is a recognized weakness for Gojo is known to others at all is what makes me constantly wonder whether Geto was doomed by the narrative.

1. You know people were talking in the TEN YEARS Geto just ran amok. After declaring war, he was so bold as to tell Gojo where he was going and Gojo still couldn't bring himself to follow. I'd be whispering, too. 2. In chapter 79, immediately following the Premature Death/Hidden Inventory arcs, Utahime is with the Tokyo first years following up on Gojo's belief that there's a mole. She specifies two or more people could be a leak and that "one has to be highly ranked, even higher than the principals" 3. Gojo and Geto were essentially the clean up crew for anything other sorcerers couldn't handle, they'd be known to the elders. I wonder if they knew how principled Geto was and exploited that. Lining him up for missions, just so, including the one that caused him to rebuke jujutsu society. Or if, his inflexibility would have always been what got him in the end. Hypothesis: I maintain that Kenjaku and/or someone who was tied to Kenjaku was involved in pulling those strings. Specifically with designs on Geto to get a bead on Gojo. Even if Geto wasn't doomed by the narrative, he was doomed all along by his connection to Gojo.

This isn't expressly a SatoSugu observation but.. the fact that Yuji is concerned about Gojo going into Shibuya alone? It is a SatoSugu observation because it precisely serves Gojo's mission of no one ever having to be alone again. The fact that Yuji still recognizes Gojo as someone who should have back up is so reminiscent of Geto in Okinawa but is also a poignant manifestation of the ideal world Gojo is trying to achieve. Even in this, we see Gojo with his goal in sight long after Geto's will has fizzled away. Imagine what they could have accomplished together.

Specific to the anime, the fact that they animated Gojo akin to the way the devils ran in Devilman Crybaby was both so unserious but also calls upon Akira Fudo's specific experience with power and humanity.

⚠️ Spoiler Warning for plot of Devilman Crybaby.

The imagery evokes the visual of another damned pairing of Akira Fudo and Ryo Asuka (above). Ryo is a white haired prodigy (sound familiar) who, after discovering the existence of devils, tricks Akira (good natured dark haired boy who he met when they were both children) into merging with a devil "to better defend humanity". Akira's purity allows him to maintain his humanity as he subsequently overpowers the devil seeking to possess him but retains his strength and physical prowess (... really familiar). The story devolves into hysteria as humans turn on the Devilman and anyone he's associated with due to fear of the very devils he protects them from. As this happens, the bitter side of humanity rears its ugly head and manifests in torture, paranoia, mob mentality justice and indiscriminate murder, enough that the demons take a break to watch as society crumbles and Akira questions whether humanity is even worth saving. The shit kicker of this whole situation is the fact that Ryo had been in cahoots with the devils all along. In fact, he'd been pulling the strings to eradicate humanity and let devils reign supreme for a very long time as the fallen angel, Satan. His true objective in converting Akira was to thank him for being by his side and because, unbeknownst to him, he was the only person he'd ever loved. He realized this after Akira's death (which he'd caused), of course.

Strongest sorcerer in the world and he is bested by the appearance of the man he shared his youth with. Couldn't have been overpowered by anyone on the board at the time and, with all the information available to him from Six Eyes, the only hope the villains had was to outsmart his heart. Do we realize how insane that is? Mans is a loverboy, for real.

In the anime, the fact that they animated a brief smile as he reconciled that it was actually Geto standing before him before reality hit was just for the sake of emotional damage. PLUS, they somehow made "my Six Eyes tell me you're Suguru Geto. But my soul knows otherwise!" more dramatic by adding "my heart" and that just tells me there are certified SatoSugu shippers on staff.

Kenjaku has been bodyhopping for centuries. But, when confronted with causing Gojo harm, Geto's body is the first to fight against him. Both in his memories entering his mind after changing bodies but also in the way he tried to choke himself. Just as Gojo's soul recognized Geto and not Geto, Geto's soul recognized Gojo's.

Ken!Geto was the last person Gojo saw before being sealed.

As two of the closest people to Geto after his defection, Mimiko and Nanako harbored resentment toward Gojo for killing him but would not seek revenge as even they knew that Gojo was Geto's one and only best friend.

⚠️ Beyond the Animation ⚠️ Spoiler warning for JJK chapters 217-236.

Of Love and Strength

We interrupt this SatoSugu doom scroll to highlight a very pertinent theme that writhes through the cast of the strongest sorcerers. We see it with Kashimo, this restlessness of being the strongest and how others sought him out for his validation because... they admired his strength. Frustrated by the isolation of never finding a worthy fight, he cut them down mercilessly, always seeking a bigger battle. He's not the only reincarnated sorcerer who found second life just to flex on these modern sorcerers (the dude with the pompadour comes to mind right before Yuta called him bitchless). BUT the most interesting comeback is that of Yorozu, possessing Tsumiki, who seeks to prove her love by besting Sukuna in Megumi's meat suit. Through Yorozu's mission, this obsession with strength and equals is contextualized with a romantic undertone. She believes the cure to his loneliness (and I suppose hers) would be forged if she defeated him.

The battle itself even relays their attacks as a form of intimacy. The stakes of the fight are marriage, even though they both intend to kill one another. Yorozu takes offense at being fought with someone else's cursed technique. Even as she use's her Domain Expansion, she is flattered that Sukuna is able to make light work of it saying, "what...? You know all that about me? I'm so happy." It speaks to a familiarity, a consideration that Yorozu seems to be thrilled by. As if, having bared the breadth of their power to one another, that that honesty puts them closer than those who couldn't have made it this far in a fight. Hypothesis: Whoever taught Sukuna about love before and whatever Yorozu gave Sukuna prior to succumbing to the battle is going to raise the stakes down the line because, of course Gege has something else to devastate us after being lulled into a false sense of security. All in all, I think this fight served a larger purpose than burdening Megumi's soul as it showed how pervasive this link between strength and isolation is even back to the Heian period. It's what inspires Gojo's countermission after Geto defects but, prior to their split, we see the express knowledge of one another which implied an earnest connection. What I find funny is the fact that all these other characters assess their equals in these knockdown blow out fights but Gojo and Geto just... existed in harmony, acknowledging one another without all that? Away from Geto, we see Gojo is freest when he can go all out against Toji and Sukuna. Even with Sukuna, he believed his fists and power to be a means to earnestly communicate that he, too, knew that loneliness well. I include all this to say that it had to have been really sad to have finally found your equal, someone you chose to be by your side... only for them to leave and for you to never fill the gap that they left. This isolation was so despairing that he wished to liberate even his foes of it.

To not mention Shoko voicing her annoyance at Gojo's belief system centering not leaving anyone alone while she was beside him the whole time is a necessary trio inclusion. This is not commentary on the official translation that suggests Shoko's in love with one of them. Instead, this is a testament to the fact that, at the end of the day, Gojo felt alone if Geto wasn't beside him. Where one could argue Geto's mission was informed by a number of factors, re: protecting the future of people like Riko, preventing the sacrifice of people like Haibara, negating the abuse/bigotry experienced by Nanako and Himiko and lessening the burden on people like Gojo and himself, Gojo's sole motivation has always had Geto and/or what happened with Geto in mind. Shoko living in the reality of Gojo's vision gives me a bit of the sad, too.

Upon finally being unsealed from the prison realm and with the imposter Ken!Geto being the last face he saw, his first inclination is to track down Geto's body rather than reuniting with everyone else [that's left].

Mourning Geto's body is also imminently on Gojo's to do list pre-Sukuna fight.

When given the opportunity to pick the date of his fight with Sukuna... Gojo picks Christmas Eve, the anniversary of Geto's death. Once more, this is a lovers' holiday that even Kenjaku mocks upon hearing the selection.

"We seek not to be born on the same day, in the same month and in the same year. We merely hope to die on the same day, in the same month and in the same year. May the Gods of Heaven and Earth attest to what is in our hearts. If we should ever do anything to betray our friendship, may heaven and the people of the earth both strike us dead." -Romance of the Three Kingdoms

Let's just let that marinate.

At the end of Gojo's life... Geto's is the first face he sees. Still, in his mind, the cherry atop the satisfying fight with Sukuna would have been Geto being among those congratulating him. Not high school Geto as we see him in this afterlife. But cult leader Geto who Gojo never once lost affection for. Truly maddening.

I was going to include stuff from the light novels and the OP and EP's (since there are so many visual easter eggs in season 2) but this got to be really long and kind of just an obsessive retelling of events so.. if you've made it this far, you are probably crazy like me. In which case, I am sorry.

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meyousing · 1 year

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𝙸𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚖𝚒, 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚃𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚋

𝚜𝚢𝚗𝚘𝚙𝚜𝚒𝚜: you’re quite far under illumi’s control, unbeknownst to yourself. it isn’t until you hear some particular words that you begin to question your reality.

𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜: part two to subservient! sfw, major manipulation and gaslighting, light mentions of blood.

part 3 (final) is also here!

It was your greatest joy to know that you were being a good wife to your husband. Illumi was perfect, utterly so. You thrived to be as perfect of a partner as he was, you felt indebted to him just for his being so lovely. The way he protected you, provided for you, and would anticipate the extension of your family in the future, what more could you ask for? You were truly living the dream.

As far as you could tell, you always felt this way. There was one night where these emotions were amplified, when you two slept together with Illumi’s implication of trying for a baby, and that experience only doubled the already abundant love you felt for him. Your first attempt at conception was unsuccessful, yet in spite of that you kept your hopes up. The prospect of having Illumi’s child was so domestic, you anticipated going through all of the highs and lows of parenthood, training your child to become the ideal Zoldyck assassin, with your perfect husband at your side as you did.

On the topic of domesticity; you used to dread the family dinners, cowering away from the intense eyes of the other assassins and pretending to enjoy the food in front of you, when your appetite was mostly nonexistent. Now, you would eagerly listen in on their daily reports, politely savouring your meal as you did. Kikyo would still send you resentful stares every now and then, but it didn’t bother you anymore. Your only concerns were about Illumi now, with what he planned for you to do every day and night, ensuring that you took care of yourself to ensure that your body was in the right condition to bear a child. How thoughtful of him, truly! Everything was just so, so perfect.

Yet, unless under false pretences, perfection is not genuinely attainable, is it? Your first suspicion arose when Illumi muttered something to himself a few nights back.

Laying at your side in bed, Illumi had bid you goodnight and turned away to fall asleep, but your hand on his shoulder stopped that. You were still sitting up, ignoring the voice in your head telling you that it was time to lay down now. In a moment, you told it.

“Sorry, I just wanted to talk about one last thing before I forget.” you spoke sheepishly, instantly retracting your hand when his eyes met yours in the darkness; still so visible despite the minimal lighting that only came from the dimly moonlit window.

“Yes?”

You subconsciously began to fiddle with your fingers, tentatively slouching over and leaning your weight to one side as you avoided eye contact. Somehow, you knew that asking about this would only disappoint you, as if it were forbidden subject matter, or to a lesser extent; plainly just meant not to be talked about. You couldn’t stop yourself from asking anyway.

“I know that you want me to stay away from anything involving…the more intensive work that you do, like training and stuff, but… do you have any idea of when I can start?” Your voice got quieter and more slurred the longer that you spoke, your apprehension clear as day.

Illumi’s lack of visible reaction prompted you to keep speaking though, as if now was the only time that you’d be able to, before some unknown source hushed you for good. It felt odd that you were thinking that way, but you couldn’t help it.

“I just don’t want to fall behind, I think it would be a little illogical if I’m to help our child become an assassin when I don’t even know the first thing about it. You can see why I would think that, right?”

A beat of uncomfortable silence passed, but was pacified rather quickly.

“No, I don’t see why you are thinking that.”

He seemed to have given almost no thought to your inquiry. That hurt a bit, but was overridden by confusion. Why wouldn’t he want you to start training? Surely you were making sense here… how could you help your child become an assassin when you didn’t even know the first thing about it?

He turned away then, mumbling something beneath his breath that you almost missed, had you not been extra attentive right now considering the weight of what you just dared to wonder.

“She should’ve stopped asking about that by now.”

The next morning, before leaving for his job of the day, Illumi had woken you up while seated at the edge of your bed, his hand resting on your blanketed thigh.

“Do you recall what you asked me last night, before we slept?”

“I asked you something?” you rubbed the fatigue from your eyes, trying to remember what it could have been that you questioned him about. “We just went to bed right away, didn’t we?” that was what happened from what you were able to recollect. You entered the room together after dinner, then went to bed right away, full and satiated from the lovely meal.

“Yes, that’s exactly right.” He stood up, not sparing you another glance while casually brushing off his shoulder as he headed for the door in record time.

“Have a good day!” you called out, tiredness still evident in your voice, the well wish sounding weak as a result. He didn’t respond, but you didn’t mind that as you turned back over to sleep in for a bit longer, your eyes closing at the same time as the bedroom door.

Your second suspicion came about at the family dinner that same day.

You gave a respectful smile to Silva, him being the last person at the table to share his job report for today. You bit down on a carrot and courteously covered your mouth with a napkin as you chewed, listening to how enthused he sounded to announce that his target had been successfully eliminated, as always. He finished speaking after that and began eating his own food, making you divert your attention back to your plate. That is, until the sound of someone clearing their throat made your ears perk up.

“So, is this another day of no training for you, Y/N?” Kikyo’s chin rested atop her clasped hands, her elbows propped on the table in an odd show, considering how she was usually much more conscious of her table manners. This was something she had even corrected you on when you first arrived here, and you abided by it ever since, due to her strict tone and unforgiving stare each time you made the same mistake.

“Uhm,” you coughed lightly, shooting her an apologetic glance due to your own ill manners. “Illumi has told me that I don’t need to train just yet, we’re looking to keep my physical exertion light in preparation for–”

You felt a scintilla in your mind, a sensation that told you not to finish that sentence.

“Illumi should know that isn’t what we want.” She tilted her head slightly in his direction, her tone of voice a bit condescending to make up for her lack of visible expression, which was surely on the verge of scowling. Illumi barely paid her any mind, dabbing a napkin at the corner of his mouth.

“This topic only concerns myself and my wife.” He kept his gaze on his plate, placing his utensils on it alongside his napkin as he seemed to be finished with them.

“I trained rather heavily while I was pregnant. I did the most when I was carrying you, Illumi. That could be part of why you’re such a strong assassin now.”

Illumi continued to act passive. To you, Kikyo’s words came across as offensive and discrediting of Illumi’s own training, though he very well could not have been acting and genuinely felt passive towards her words, since it did not seem that he would be changing his mind about what you were to do any time soon. It was hard to tell at times with someone so stoic.

You, on the other hand, felt your eyes widen in concern. How did she know what you two had been planning? You hadn’t said anything, perhaps it was just motherly intuition?

“In that case, maybe it’s time for Y/N to start, don’t you think?” You watched as her fingers bent and dug into the skin of her hands, indicating a rather harsh grip that she must have been exerting her annoyance into. You winced subconsciously from the sight, worried about what you may have done wrong in a situation that you did not have much control over (your mere existence just seemed to bother Kikyo either way). Illumi may have claimed that this topic only concerned the two of you, but he tended to be the only one making any final decisions, your input being long forgotten once his mind was made.

“No, we’ll be doing things our own way. Y/N is her own person, I’ve planned for things to be done in a way that would be best suited for her, not you.”

You felt your lips twitch upward at his words, bashful at his defence of your character and his typical attentiveness. He is so perfect, you thought to yourself, watching Kikyo’s own lips curl into a snarl.

Illumi excused both him and yourself from the table after this, and you followed his lead rather hastily as he stood and exited the dining room, striding into the hall while ignoring everyone else’s watchful eyes. As per your routine, you knew that this was the walk to your bedroom to retire for the night. You trailed behind him, and on this walk, you reflected upon everything that had just been discussed.

Kikyo was usually irked by you, but the more you contemplated it, you believed that her words tonight did not carry any malice. Well, maybe some attitude, but that was something you had grown used to; the intentions behind what she said came off as mostly curious, regardless of the snark.

Kikyo would not be curious without valid reason. Was your lack of training something that had concerned her for a while now? She had not said anything about it until tonight, you almost forgot about the other times she asked previously, had this not served as a sudden reminder. It was odd that you forgot, but now that you remembered, you began to wonder the same thing as her; should you be starting your training now? If she trained while pregnant, surely you could begin now while not even being anywhere near that stage just yet?

You couldn’t help but tug at Illumi’s sleeve diffidently, not waiting for any form of acknowledgement before sharing your piece.

“Illumi, are you positively certain that I shouldn’t be doing some kind of training by now? If Kikyo thinks that I should be…” you trailed off nervously, much too anxious to speak your next words given his earlier reaction to any kind of defiance. “And there’s… there’s something in me that’s telling me I should be too.”

“It should be telling you not to.” He stopped walking. You slowed your pace, until you stopped about a foot behind him seconds after.

“...What?”

“Your incessant questions about training were becoming tiring, Y/N. My patience was starting to wane the more that you asked, when I already told you that you need only to worry about staying healthy for a pregnancy as of now.” He turned to face you as he spoke, his eyes hooded and low with ire. You were caught off guard, his tone seemed slightly less levelled than normal, which was startling despite the miniscule difference.

“Truthfully, I’m perplexed by how you have managed to continue asking me about this every day since I tried putting a stop to it.” His fingers found his chin in contemplation as he stared away from you and into the distance of the long hall. “How do you have such resistance?”

You could tell that this was not exactly a question that you were meant to answer; moreso something that he was asking himself. It wasn’t like he was trying, but nothing he said remedied your confusion after his second to last statement.

“What do you mean you tried putting a stop to it?”

He didn’t react to you, you could tell that he had likely tuned you out even as he looked back once more with the same look of pique on his face, the hand on his chin falling back to his side promptly.

“It’s as if the needle has only caused more of a hindrance.”

The needle? What, needle as in his nen ability? The one that he used to control others–

Your blood ran cold. You could almost feel it draining from your face, his indirect assertion sending chills down your spine. He wouldn’t do that to you, would he?

He approached you suddenly, and you flinched back given the information you just heard and were now heavily struggling to process. He didn’t allow you to move far, his hands bracing your shoulders with a grip strong enough to keep you grounded in your spot, though your fear-induced paralysis was already doing a sufficient job of that. His hair brushed over your cheek when he leaned toward your ear, one of his hands moving to the top of your head as his lips tickled the shell of your ear.

“We are going to start over. Perhaps this intermission will serve as a reminder to the real you the next time you try making any demands.”

His fingers crimped into your scalp as he tightened his hold, making you grimace and pull back into yourself as best you could, like that would provide some sort of escape from his suddenly very dark and intimidating aura. An aura that once seemed so loving, so devoted, so... perfect.

“Unless you want this to happen again, prove to me that you have learned your lesson, starting tonight.”

You wished to respond, to apologize for angering him with your interrogations and insist that you would never do it again so he would let go of you, but any thoughts were cut short by an excruciating throbbing that began to resonate at the crown of your head. So excruciating, that you could barely process anything else before your vision instantly cut to black.

Illumi caught your limp body once you collapsed into him, peeking over your shoulder and looking down to the bloodied needle resting in his palm. This case was certainly peculiar, you were the only person who had been able to challenge his control thus far. He examined the needle for a moment longer before hoisting you into his arms with one under your knees, the other supporting your back as he resumed your trek back to the bedroom. Even in his vexation, Illumi couldn’t help but feel a tinge of anticipation upon this revelation; such a promising sign for your future with the family, and as his wife. He knew that he made the right decision when he picked you, you were just so perfect for him.

#✧meyou #✧musinghxhmasterlist #illumi #yandere illumi #illumi x reader #illumi zoldyck x reader #illumi zoldyck #hxh #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter #hxh illumi #hunter x hunter x reader #illumi x y/n #illumi x you

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sleepyfan-blog · 18 days

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Adult Conversation

Author’s note: This is the fifth Bully(ing) Cato Sicarius fic series. First. Prev. Next.

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @i-am-a-dragon34

Warnings: ask me to tag anything that bothers you

Summary: Cato and Titus rush you off to be checked over by the apothecary post assassination attempt. Afterwards, communication happens.

You knew that Astartes were enhanced. That they could move far faster than baseline humans. But you could swear that it took no more than a couple of seconds for the two squads of fully armed and armored Astartes led by Captain Sicarius and Lieutenant Titus to run all the way back to where Macragge's Honor was moored. A pathway had already been cleared for the two squads to thunder up the main gangplank and through the primary cargo bay of the massive ship.

What felt like another handful of moments later, Lieutenant Titus was carefully setting you down on one of the astartes-sized medical cots while one of the on-duty apothecaries walked over. "Are you injured anywhere, miss?" The apothecary asked, looking you over assessingly "Captain Sicarius informed me that you were the subject of an unsuccessful assassination attempt."

"I'm fine. The assassins were unable to get anywhere near me. Captain Sicarius saw to the immediate execution or disarmament before any of them could get within striking distance." You answer honestly as the Ultramarine apothecary moves closer, resisting the temptation to sigh. "I am a little off-put by the suddenness of the attempt, but I am in perfect health." You look up and over to where Sicarius was standing - not that he had gone far from your side. He was standing at the head of the medical cot you'd been set down on, one hand still holding tight to the pommel of the blade, his other hand close to your elbow, his gaze constantly scanning his surroundings - as if there was a chance that an assassin could get onto the flagship of the Ultramarines Chapter without being spotted and watched carefully. Titus was on your other side, one hand on his bolter, the other close to your other elbow. Both Astartes were visibly tense and unhappy. Considering how close you and Lieutenant Titus had become his reaction was understanding… But you were baffled by just how much protective wrath and worry that radiated from Captain Sicarius. You'd been under the impression that he hated you - or barely tolerated your presence as a necessary irritation.

His emotional reaction spoke to that being untrue, despite his outward statements and enjoyment of teasing you at every possible time. You reach out to both of them, squeezing Titus' hand with one of your own, and tentatively touching Sicarius' elbow, unsure as to how the… Mercurial second captain would react to your touch in such a mood. You look back at the Apothecary as you speak, not wanting to deliberately call out both of their emotional states, not wanting to provoke either one of them "As I said before, I am fine, Apothecary."

"There could have been something in those many tiny dishes that our hosts fed to us. Considering the fact that their security was either corrupted to the point of allowing twenty-four would be assassins into the event or incompetent to do the same, I would strongly recommend that you be checked for any poisons or drugs in your system that could compromise you if not caught in time." Sicarius argued, scowling a little, though he leaned into your touch.

You look to Titus, not wanting to take up any more of the Apothecary's time than you already had - you really were fine, after all! Why were the both of them overreacting so much? But the lieutenant only nodded in agreement with Sicarius' words "I agree with the captain. Please, for your own health, for our peace of mind, allow Brother Apothecary Messinius to check you over and draw your blood for testing?"

Part of you wanted to argue that all of this was wholly unnecessary, but the expressions of genuine worry on both of their faces gave you pause… And it was worrying that so many would-be assassins had managed to get into an event that should have had much better security than it did. "I… Fine. If it will put your worries to rest, I'll allow it."

Titus gave you a small smile and Sicarius relaxed a little.

"Thank you." Titus murmured, his voice going warm and gentle, reaching out and tucking a stray lock of your hair that had come undone from the updo you'd put it in while you'd been astartes-sprinted back to Macragge's Honor.

Your post assassination attempt check-up did not take long, and Apothecary Captain (why had you been brought directly to the captain of the fourth company for treatment? Surely he had better things to do than to check up on you? But Titus and Sicarius had both insisted that Messinius himself be the one to check you over, and he didn't seem to mind…) Messinius promised to alert you and whichever of the Ultramarines who were going to be guarding you in your room aboard Macragge's honor if there was anything concerning in your bloodwork. You'd wanted to protest that you didn't need guarding while on the ship, but the worried and irritated expressions on Titus and Sicarius' faces brooked no argument.

Somehow, the news that it would be both Sicarius and Titus who were going to be guarding you personally did not surprise you one bit. Nor was the fact that Titus held you carefully in his arms while Sicarius did a thorough sweep of your personal rooms just in case someone had managed to sneak aboard the ship and plant something in your rooms to try and hurt, maim or kill you. Sicarius found nothing objectionable in your room, and Titus carried you over to your bed, kneeling down as he set you down.

Titus pressed his forehead against yours, breathing in deeply before murmuring softly "I'm glad that you are whole and unharmed, my dear." He is still taller than you, despite kneeling before you on your bed, and leans down slightly, to kiss you on the lips.

SIcarius growls "Lieutenant Titus! Control yourself- step away from her!"

Titus looked over at his brother, arching a brow and pressing closer to you "I will not step away from her. Not unless you ask me to, my dear. Why you are being so willfully blind, I do not know, but now is as good a time as any for this conversation."

You blink in abject confusion. What conversation was he talking about? You were about to ask when Sicarius tackled Titus to the floor, dragging him away from you. "You kissed her!" He hisses.

"Yes, I did. I've kissed her before." The lieutenant rumbled unapologetically, resisting the other as he tried to drag him away from you "I love you, my dear. And I'm not the only one in this room who does. Why Cato is being such an ass about it, I do not know."

"He what?" You splutter, your eyes widening in shock. You wanted to dismiss Titus' words as being utterly incorrect. Considering how much Sicarius had bullied you… And in the ways that he…

But Sicarius never did allow anyone else to bully you around. Physically or verbally. He would immediately reprimand anyone else picking on you and drag any other Ultramarine off for a brutal sparring session.

… There was also the fact that Sicarius was not disagreeing with the lieutenant's assessment.

Sicarius had, in fact, gone an interesting shade of red and was scowling at the floor, even as he continued to try and drag Titus away from you "I… That's… That's completely - how dare you… I… Might have… Inappropriate… Feelings… for you, yes. But I have the self-control not to act on them."

Titus snorted, before breaking out into wry laughter "That's not true! You try to occupy as much of her attention as you can! You sulk when she pays attention to our brothers more than you, and you get really grumpy when she and I spend time together without you."

"Considering the last time I found the two of you alone together, you had your tongue down her throat, my concerns about you two spending extended periods of time together is entirely founded. And…" Sicarius hesitated, looking at you with a hard, complicated look on his face "I… May have… More intense feelings for you than… I know what to deal with. You are beautiful and lovely and soft and intelligent and maddening! I want to see you smile, I want to hear you laugh. I want to be the reason why you are happy. I want you to smile at me the way you smile at Titus. I want… I want to hold you close, hear you murmur. Get lost in your sweet scent. Feel your heartbeat against mine. When those fools rushed at you I was… For a moment I worried that they would take you away. Hurt you and send you to a place where I could not follow for long centuries and that terrified me." Sicarius admitted, breaking down as he slumped forward in Titus' hold, tears starting to form in his dark eyes. "So I was vicious and merciless to the fools who thought you take you from me. You have stolen my hearts from me, and I… I find myself… Not… Minding this. I am… Well aware of your…" He swallows hard, looking between yourself and Titus "I know about you and Titus being close and I am jealous that he has… That he can… That you allow him to…" He growls wordlessly, burying his face in his hands, taking in deep, ragged breaths, clearly trying to calm down.

Titus' hold on his captain gentles a little, less restraining and more reassuring. "Captain… You are… Really bad at processing your own feelings."

"Shut it, Titus. I'm… I'm trying!" Sicarius hissed, giving the other marine a half-hearted glower.

You slide off the bed and onto your feet, walking up to both Astartes. Even up on your tiptoes and stretching your arms up as high as they can go, you can barely touch their faces with your fingertips. You care and love Titus very much… But you also can't deny the part of you that is very much attracted to Captain Sicari… No. To Cato, as well. You'd thought that he hated you, which made dealing with your assumed one-sided crush a little bit easier. "I care for you both, very much. I am also very much aware of the fact that directly after an attempt on my life, that doing something potentially… Rash is a bad idea. I also have negotiations to attend to in the morning. We'll need to talk more about what… What each of us might want, now that everyone's feelings are out in the open. For now, all I ask of you both is if you'd like to rest with me. Tonight has been tumultuous at best, and I know I wouldn't be able to sleep at all if I'm by myself."

"One of us needs to stand guard, at least. It's standard protocol, after an assassination attempt." Cato rumbled, shaking his head a little.

"Space marines also require far less sleep than baseline humans do." Titus added, letting go of Cato and kneeling down to be closer to your level. "Would you be content if one of us holds you while you sleep, and the other guards your door? And when it is time for the other to take his rest, we'll switch off? If you're willing to hold her close, Cato."

"That would be acceptable to me." You agree with a warm and gentle smile, glancing over at the second captain, waiting for his response.

"That… That would be acceptable to me." Cato agreed, nodding jerkily.

"Cato should hold you first. He's the one who saw actual combat tonight." Titus hummed "Besides, it's going to take me time to get out of my armor, and Cato's in civies already."

You nod, and watch Cato turn an interesting shade of red. "Sounds good to me! I have a couple of things that should more or less fit both of you, if you don't wanna sleep in what you're wearing now." You'd gotten a couple of pairs of astartes sized sleeping shirts for Titus, after you and he had steadily been close with one another. Sicarius was blushing again as he nodded, not looking at you. It was endearing how flustered he is. You pull out the two large shirts, offering them out for Cato to choose between.

Cato looks at both of the silk shirts, taking the dark blue sleeping shirt with a gruff "Thank you." before heading off to your en-suite bathroom to change. You hum softly as you pull out a set of sleep wear of your own to wear, waiting for him to be done. You wanted to wash your face of the make up you were wearing, and cleaning wipes only did so much. Cato doesn't take long in the bathroom, and steps out, his well-muscled legs on display as he walked over to your bed, settling down on it as you head over to the bathroom.

You quickly finish your nightly ablutions and find that Titus is standing watch at the door. while Cato is still laying down on your bed. You walk over to bed and slide under the covers, curling into Cato's warm, firm chest, a tired yawn leaving you as you cuddle into him, as you mumble out a tired "Thank you."

"… Thank you, my lady." He murmurs back, pressing a kiss to your hair, his large hands pulling you in close, one hand lightly coming to rest on your hip, the other lightly touching the middle of your back as you quickly fall asleep in his arms.

#warhammer 40k #my writing #lieutenant titus #captain cato sicarius #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #captain messinius

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morbidology · 8 days

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During his time on Florida’s Death Row, Ted Bundy had two successful escapes, as well as an unsuccessful escape attempt. He had sawed through his prison cell but before getting a chance to escape, prison officers discovered the sawed off bars. Additionally, he was punished several times for bad behaviour.

In September of 1979, a prison officer told Bundy to remove the magazine pictures from the wall of his cell, telling him that was a violation of prison rules. Bundy responded by saying: “The pictures are on the wall since I have no TV.” For this violation, officials revoked his visitation and exercise privileges. He was in trouble again in October of 1980 when he burned a hole through his prison tray. He was ordered to pay $4 for the tray and again his privileges were revoked.

In February of 1983, Bundy flooded his cell by repeatedly flushing his toilet. In 1987, Bundy temporarily lost visitation privileges with John Tanner, his spiritual advisor. Bundy had attempted to use Tanner to smuggle letters to his wife, Carole Boone, as well as letters to the parents of John Hinckley, who attempted to assassinate President Reagan.

Bundy had wrote to the Hinckleys because their son was denied a home visit in 1987. The reason he was denied a visit was because prison officials discovered that he had secretly been corresponding with Bundy. He claimed that he had been offering spiritual guidance to Hinckley. Furthermore, throughout his time on Death Row, Bundy’s attitude toward religion changed drastically. Initially, Bundy believed that religion wasn’t a big part of his life.

However, in June of 1987, Bundy said in a letter to Tanner: “I feel God’s presence. I feel him guiding me, I feel him working in our lives and our friendship. Your influence has been crucial. I love you brother. Peace, Ted.”

#ted bundy #serial killer #true crime

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fidothefinch · 1 month

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have no mouth (and I must scream)

Written for @dcdarkweek 2024.

CW: body horror, medical torture, mild gore Summary: Dick's recent escape attempt was unsuccessful. Deathstroke treats his injuries. (It's not a mercy.)

Read on Ao3

Dick woke up to being dropped. The falling sensation was only part of the reason; landing lit fires all over his body. He opened his mouth in an involuntary gasp, and that, too, put him into so much pain his eyes began to water.

“Hold still,” a deep voice huffed.

Dick’s heart skipped a beat.

Slade.

Panicked, Dick’s awareness came back all at once. He’d been dropped onto the canvas cot in his pristine concrete cell. Security cameras winked at him from each corner of the room. He’d already memorized every crack and cranny of the room over the last four months he’d lived in it.

The manacles, sitting in an innocent pile beside his cot, were new.

Dick jolted back at the sight, and it drew a fresh gasp from his—decidedly swollen—lips.

“Hold. Still.” Slade punctuated his command with the snap of a medkit being opened. He wore his Deathstroke uniform still, the shoulder where he must have carried Dick smeared with blood, but he had pulled his mask off. Dick had become adept at reading his body language, and right now it screamed ‘danger’ at him. In this moment, Dick would have preferred the faceless assassin to that of his captor.

“Kid.”

Dick really did his best to stop moving, but he couldn’t control the tremors rattling his bones. It wasn’t just the pain making him shake. “Slade—Master, I—”

“I suggest,” Slade growled, not looking up from his work in the kit, “that you stop there.”

Dick would normally heed the advice for the threat it really was. But these circumstances were different. He was desperate.

“Master, I’m sorry,” Dick slurred. He could barely move his jaw. It was dislocated, maybe even broken.

An abrupt laugh startled him. “Sorry you tried to escape, or sorry that you were caught?”

“I—"

Slade finally turned to him. Everything in the large man’s frame was tense, from his raised shoulders to his narrowed eyes to his white-knuckle grip on the box of sterile sutures. He was furious.

Dick flinched.

“I will give you one chance,” Slade said, striding forward confidently. “You get one chance to tell me what you were thinking.”

Dick’s fingers – even the sore ones – clenched in the sheets. The thing was, he hadn’t been thinking. He sees that, now. There was never a real opening during the mission, and Dick hadn’t stopped to consider the suspicious circumstances before bolting. He hadn’t had the time. He’d paid dearly for it.

He was never going to escape.

“Well?” Slade asked.

Dick couldn’t meet his gaze.

Slade seemed to take that as answer enough. “Hands.”

Dick followed the order without hesitation. This part was semi-routine, except Slade hadn’t had to restrain Dick’s hands since the first few weeks in the bunker. He winced as Slade shut and then tightened the manacles around his wrists, heedless of his swollen fingers. He didn’t connect them yet, but his grip lingered on Dick’s left hand a moment too long.

Dick opened his mouth to ask what was wrong before Slade braced his other hand against his shoulders and pushed.

A scream ripped out of Dick’s throat as his shoulder was re-located.

Slade didn’t give him time to recover. “Feet.”

Dick’s breath came out heavy, but he only waited a half second before stretching his legs and spreading his feet.

Slade made quick work of tightening the manacles a little too tightly around his ankles. He paused at Dick’s swollen ankle and what had to be broken toes, and Dick tensed every muscle in his body in anticipation of more pain. But Slade must have decided their state was acceptable, and let them be. These manacles were connected to the corners of his cot. Well enough; Dick wouldn’t be able to walk in his state.

Slade clipped the wrist manacles together so that the backs of Dick’s hands touched, rather than his palms. It forced his shoulders to twist forward, and Dick’s shoulder burned in its socket. He wasn’t stupid enough to complain.

“Comfortable?” Slade asked, voice pitched in a way that clearly conveyed he didn’t give a shit either way.

Dick bit his tongue. A bead of sweat tickled down his back.

Slade grunted. “So quiet, little bird.” His eyes narrowed, and he grabbed Dick’s chin. Dick couldn’t help his hiss as Slade forced his head side to side. He hummed thoughtfully. “Brace yourself.”

It still wasn’t enough time for Dick to prepare before Slade’s huge hands encompassed his jaw and wrenched it open. With a sharp tug, something clicked back into place.

White light burst behind his eyelids, and Dick shuddered through the wave of pain that followed the movement. The lower half of his face burned.

When the reflexive tears had cleared, his blurry vision resolved on a small instrument in Slade’s hands.

A bone drill.

“No,” Dick mumbled, doing his best to avoid moving his jaw. His hands jerked against the manacles, and he realized the way he was restrained kept him from reaching his face.

“I warned you.” The way Slade said it was matter-of-fact. “Your jaw is broken. It needs to be immobilized to heal properly.” As if to prove his point, he wrapped his free hand around Dick’s chin again.

It didn’t take any pressure to make Dick breathless with the all-consuming, burning pain. A high keen escaped the back of his throat, followed by a gasping, “Please, stop.”

The corners of Slade’s mouth curved up tightly, like a pool collecting drips of anger and malice. “I may have considered an analgesic, even an anesthetic, but you’ve lost your privileges. Beg all you want. It will only make it worse.”

Dick could only watch, wide-eyed, as Slade raised the bone drill and gave a few testing taps of its trigger. The squealing of the machine was sinister. “Eight screws should do it.”

“Please, Master,” Dick slurred. “’M sorry.”

He was ignored.

With a little difficulty due to the swelling, Slade pressed his top lip out of the way and lowered the drill to a spot above and slightly to the side of his top canine.

There was a pause, the drill bit digging into Dick’s gums hard enough he tasted blood. His breaths were rabbit-quick, his face and toes and fingers tingling with the beginning of hyperventilation. Slade narrowed his one good eye, and Dick made a last desperate plea with eye contact.

Slade’s eye narrowed. The drill turned on.

Dick thrashed as the drill tore through his skin. The vibrations and the pressure rang through his entire skull. Blood flowed freely, coating his tongue and his teeth.

“Hold still,” Slade growled. “Unless you want me to hit a nerve.”

Dick knew he meant it. He strained every muscle in his body trying to keep his face from moving. His nails bit into his palms and his shoulders strained toward his ears. Blood began to run down his throat, and he coughed to avoid choking.

Slade pressed down harder, and the drill hit bone, and Dick screamed.

Dick wished he had passed out.

When it was all done, Slade packed his lips with gauze and packed the drill and other tools back into his med kit. Dick had stopped shaking, exhaustion pressing down on every limb and joint and bone. Cold sweat made his tattered orange and black uniform cling to his skin. Under the smell of blood was the smell of heat and bone dust. Dick weakly turned his head and coughed. A small trickle of blood and saliva leaked out between his clenched teeth.

His stomach flipped.

“Mssstr,” he slurred. He had to push the sound out through bared, barred teeth. His lips had swollen to the point they felt heavy on his face, and they refused to follow directions.

Slade had super-hearing, so when he didn’t respond, Dick knew that he was just being an asshole.

“Msster,” he tried again, doing his best to enunciate each word. “F’mit. H’f. To. F’mit.”

Slade glanced at him, then. “I suggest you don’t.”

Dick squeezed his eyes shut against the sting of tears. He breathed deeply through his nose, trying to ignore the sour feeling in his stomach. Some of it traveled up to the back of his tongue, but he swallowed it down again. There was nowhere for it to go.

“Finally, some peace and quiet.” Slade pulled Dick back so he was sitting up, propped against the wall. “Don’t choke, kid.”

Dick didn’t have the energy to muster a glare. Not that it would have much effect, with irritated eyes and bruised face and inability to quip. “I hate you.” The words came out very slightly clearer with his vindication.

Slade patted his cheek condescendingly, making Dick flinch back into the wall. “Next time you’ll think twice about trying to run.” And he turned his back to Dick, and walked out the door, leaving him stuck with his manacles and his mouth wired shut.

A tear ran down his face. Reflexively, Dick moved to lick it away, only to pull on his new hardware and bash his tongue against the backs of his teeth.

The tears came faster, after that.

#dc dark week #body horror #dc #dick grayson #slade wilson #fido writes

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stick2sherlock · 5 months

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@jessilynallendilla, @summerfox1988 - guys, thank you, I love the idea of law student/prosecutor Damian bonding with Two Face. Imagine young, almost-fresh-out-of-school Damian being the prosecutor on Two Face case (only he wanted this case), and Harvey is screaming tips from his seat because regardless of his sentence he'll get out during the next Arkham break, and it's such a deep teaching moment for Damian.

But I also cannot shake the picture of Damian absolutely thriving as a new youngest district attorney, and after some assassination attempts (of course VERY unsuccessful) were made on Damian, Harvey is like "You're so good for not letting the danger of being DA get to you" and Damian just looks him dead in the eye and goes:

And then Damian has to immidiately survive ANOTHER attempt on his life.

#damian wayne #harvey dent #prosecutor Damian Wayne

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staycalmandhugaclone · 9 months

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You'll Have to Go Through Me Pt 5

Part 5 of You'll Have to Go Through Me, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

It's come to my attention that my previous attempts at tagging through this arc were wildly unsuccessful. Here's to hoping it works this way, but, for those of you who are just learning about this arc, at least you have plenty to enjoy! (my bad, guys)

Warnings: Nightmares, guilt, reference to torture/gore, reference to murder/assassination, profanity

WC: 4,150

Waking from sedation isn’t the same as waking from sleep. There’s a long moment in which your body is awake – you can see and hear and recognize the world around you, but you aren’t really there. I felt the rumble of subtle snores vibrating against my cheek as I stared blindly toward the empty bunks across from us without granting them a moment’s thought as to why they were empty, vaguely noting how Wrecker held me tightly to his chest with his back resting against the rear wall of his bunk, that his head had tilted forward so his lips still just touched my temple.

My entire body shifted with each lazy rise and fall of his deep breaths as I listened to a distant, rhythmic hum that sounded nothing like the Marauder’s engine, and I remembered counting him through slowing his breaths, willing some trace of calm into him. That felt like months ago… maybe it had been months…

Thoughts drifted through my mind absent intent as that memory led to the first time I’d guided him through that simple exercise in the hopes of lulling him into a quiet that would let me work the tension from his muscles. I thought about those precious seconds that eased Hunter from that agony tearing through his head and the tears Echo shed in the quiet isolation of the storage room as he felt touch offered for the simple comfort it could bring void of expectation or necessity. I remembered how Tech had needed his datapad to distract himself initially, but then grew so relaxed that he managed to fall asleep in my arms. I remembered the note of surprise breaking through Crosshair’s rage as I pushed the inflammation from his injured hand, how long it had taken for him to finally begin relaxing into that gentle trance as I worked over each knuckle…

The sickening pop of wrenching those fingers from their sockets.

My chest jerked with a tiny gasp, eyes going wide as my body tensed, forcefully swallowing back the sudden rush of nausea from that wretched memory. I tried to keep myself still, reluctant to risk jarring the man behind me from his sleep even as the violent surge of panic left me shaking. He hadn’t noticed yet, unhurried breaths still dancing lazily through him.

Movements carefully mediated, I guided first one massive arm away from me, and then the other before slowly easing myself to my feet, tense sigh flowing past pursed lips upon finding no signs that Wrecker had noticed. I didn’t know how to feel upon waking in his arms, nor was I prepared yet to discuss why I’d needed such comfort at all, still mortified that, of all the members of the squad, it had been him to see the monstrous scene left in the wake of my desperation. That was something I couldn’t avoid for long, but I was eager to delay it for at least a short while more.

The ship was unnaturally still, and it didn’t take long to realize that the distant humming was ocean waves rather than the Marauder’s engines. I tread quietly toward the medbay to confirm that Echo was also gone, and dread pierced my chest. Had he been awake last night? Did he hear what I’d said? Maker, I hoped not… I didn’t want to risk him feeling even a whisper of guilt over what I’d done to save him…

Moving quickly passed Wrecker once more, I ducked into the main cabin and was surprised to note that most of the others’ armor had been left behind. Hunter and Tech had taken only their lower gear, while Echo didn’t bother even with that. Crosshair, however, took not only his full kit of armor, but his rifle as well…

Beyond the open ramp lay a blanket of tawny sand dappled beneath flickering shadows of palms dancing overhead. I could feel the ocean breeze, could taste the salt weighing down the damp air, and I wanted to let myself imagine what it might be like to be granted the freedom to enjoy the paradise awaiting me just outside the metal walls, to relish its beauty in the company of this incredible family free of impending horrors and inescapable regret that clung to every impossible step forward in this wretched war.

I wanted to hear Wrecker’s laugh and savor Hunter’s smile. I wanted to listen to the wonder in Tech’s voice as he spoke of the intricate secrets hidden beneath the waves. I wanted Echo to enjoy the warmth of the sun’s light. I wanted to watch Crosshair nap in the shade without fear of what dangers might lurk within the trees. As I began walking down that ramp, however, I knew I’d find none of those precious moments awaiting me in the deceptive beauty of this hidden land.

The crystalline sands were just hot enough to nearly burn my bare feet as I sunk a few inches in just that first step. Impatiently, I reached down to pull up the fabric about my ankles so the abrasive grit wouldn’t get trapped between the cloth and my skin but found myself wincing at the attempt to use my right hand. My jaw tensed at the memory of why that pain emphasized even subtle movements, and I forced myself to finish the task regardless, almost spiteful of the way that memory made my heart twist within my chest.

Arms wrapping around my waist, I glanced down to look over the collection of footsteps disturbing the wind-kissed grounds. While there was a clear trail leading away from the distant roar of waves, the path going slightly downhill was far more heavily traveled. Gently sloping dunes dusted with tall grasses that swayed elegantly in the winds obscured the ocean I found myself repeatedly assuming to be just over the next ridge, but it was several minutes before I saw anything beyond the picturesque landscape.

The instant we saw each other, Hunter went just as stiff as I did, wide eyes carefully studying me as though he’d come across some feral animal rather than the friend who’d held him when his headaches got bad, the squad member who’d spilt blood and tears to keep them safe, and a cruel whisper churned like poison in the back of my mind that maybe he was right to find himself so on edge around me.

He'd just crested a rather steep hill, wind lashing his hair about his face as he stared down at me, and I couldn’t help but loath the knowledge of what he was looking for, brows furrowing slightly as my hands tightened against the urge to turn and run, to flee before I could see those eyes tainted with pity or disgust from what I’d done, from what had done to me.

“Are… are you…” The words fell from his lips in an almost nervous whisper, and I found myself rebelling from the concern in his voice. I think I wanted him to be repelled by me, to justify my own self-revulsion even as I still couldn’t bring myself to regret it.

“Awake?” I offered in a mockery of the teasing lilt I once used so freely with him, and quickly looked away upon hearing how broken it sounded. “Yeah.” I added shortly. I wasn’t sure what I expected. Would we fall back into that rage-filled tension? Would he awkwardly strain for a gentleness that would never feel natural between us again? Or would he merely continue on silently as though neither of us had spoken at all?

When the hiss of falling sand voiced rushed movement before me, I looked up in surprise to find him quickly moving forward, heedless of how he stumbled and slid as the shifting ground latched around his feet with every step down the abrupt edge of the dune. There was no reservation to the urgency of his strides nor the heartbreak twisting his handsome face, and I couldn’t begin to react before his arms locked around me, wrenching me against his chest with a desperation that left me stunned.

“I’m sorry.” He pressed the strained words into my hair. “I…” A sharp breath escaped him in something too near a sob. “I’m sorry.” Finally, I remembered how to move, how to think as a relief so consuming it nearly broke me anew burst through my chest in a flurry of heat that sent tears clawing up my throat.

“It wasn’t your fault.” I whispered, tilting to press my cheek to his, lips nearly brushing against his ear. “What happened… It was a trap, Hunter. Nothing would have changed if I’d been with him from the start.” He shook his head, breath catching to voice some argument, but I didn’t wait for him to explain. Those soldiers had entered that room ready for a fight. If I’d been there, I probably would have been killed long before anyone even knew what was happening. Taking them by surprise was likely the only reason I’d been able to rescue Echo. “It wasn’t your fault.”

My hands slowly reached out, touch hesitant at first as it slipped over the nearly trembling muscles locked taut along the length of his back, his shoulders, before finally letting my fingers tangle into his hair, clinging to him with the full brunt of a need I’d forced myself to deny, that I’d buried and crushed beneath anger and fear and any other emotion that might let me hide from the agony of thinking I’d lost him forever, and he held me even tighter because of it. Still, I didn’t want him hurting beneath a guilt he didn’t deserve.

His shoulders crept forward, breath steadily losing its fleeting grasp of stability until he finally let his head fall, face nestling against my neck, and I wondered if he was listening to the too-quick beating of my heart, if he could smell the unshed tears burning my eyes. For a long while, he merely held me, and I shamelessly relished every passing second, fingers absently tracing meaningless lines atop his scalp.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you away like that.” When those hushed words fluttered over the sensitive skin just beneath my jaw, I couldn’t help but shiver as gooseflesh danced down my arms. Letting out a slow sigh, I shifted to press my lips to his brow.

“I think we both made some mistakes.” I murmured against him. “I shouldn’t have run off the instant we got to Kamino… and I shouldn’t have ignored your messages.” He let out a small scoff.

“Not like we were being very understanding of things.” He offered quietly, and a small chuckle shook through me.

“Probably should have done a better job breaking the news.” Hunter shook his head and, taking a final, deep breath, stepped back. I didn’t want to let him go, teeth quickly catching about my lip to force my arms back to my sides.

“It’s…” He glanced briefly away from me as he thought over his words. “It’s going to be hard… getting used to this.” He explained in something that almost sounded like a question, and I so nearly reached out for him all over again at the sorrow bleeding through the apology in his eyes. “But Wrecker’s right… you both deserve whatever happiness you can find.” I swallowed back the fresh surge of tears, swallowed back the words vying to be shouted from my lips telling him that he deserved that happiness, too… but that risked touching something I couldn’t let myself acknowledge, and I had to turn away from him to steel myself against the agony of forcing those thoughts into silence once more.

“Are… are Tech and Echo…” I started, both desperate for and loathing the need to offer us both some distraction.

“Yeah,” He murmured with the same resigned acceptable I felt sinking through my chest like ice. “They’re both on the beach.” He didn’t meet my eyes as he nodded over his shoulder, tongue absently slipping over his lips. “Tech’s been checking over Echo’s cybernetics practically since he woke up – hasn’t found any issues yet.” That, at least, granted me a relief I felt no need to hide, shoulders sinking in a rushed exhale.

“Good.” I breathed, but, when he offered nothing more, I couldn’t keep the note of guilt from my voice, “And…?” Still, I couldn’t bring myself to say his name, not when even that felt like it might rekindle the horrid tension between us, but Hunter didn’t hesitate.

“Cross went off on his own.” He looked past me, and I thought of the second trail that led away from the sound of crashing waves.

“‘Went off on his own’ to mope or to keep from shouting at everyone?” I asked, and my heart leapt at the earnest laugh that drew his lips into a grin.

“Might have been a bit of both.” There was a warning and an apology in those words, and I readily returned his smile with one of my own.

“Well, I’m either going to make it better or much, much worse.” I sighed. “Wish me luck.” Smirking, he reached out to let his hand trail down my hair before pulling away to let me leave.

“Hunter.” I called, freezing in my tracks after barely a handful of strides. He said nothing as I glanced back toward him, attention focused on me with that familiar attentiveness as he heard the sudden dread in my voice. “Don’t…” I started, stumbling over the effort to force myself to speak, to remember that fight and the nightmares it brought, “Don’t tell Echo…” His shoulders sank with understanding before giving a small nod, and I was so violently grateful that I didn’t have to explain what I meant. I didn’t want Echo to know what I’d done, nor how those actions had broken me, and I didn’t doubt that Hunter knew exactly why I was so eager to keep that knowledge from him.

“Thank you.” I whispered before continuing once more back toward the Marauder.

Wrecker’s snores still hummed steadily from within those metal walls as I continued past the ship deeper into the tropical forest garnishing the heart of the island. Brightly colored wings flashed between the dancing fronds, fleeing my presence with a chorus of offended cries. The air felt heavier the further I walked from the oceans, that luxurious breeze stifled by the trees, trapping the damp heat within their dancing canopy. Even the taste of salt faded beneath the oppressive humidity. This far from the beach, the sands steadily morphed into something more akin to soil, but I was still able to follow those tracks with little difficulty.

He didn’t move when I finally found him. His rifle lay forgotten at his feet, arms locked tightly across his chest as he leaned back against one of the swaying palms, body hidden by that darkened armor. Drawing a steadying breath, I stepped quietly toward him. Still, he wouldn’t look at me even as I leaned against that same tree, purposefully letting my shoulder gently bump against his.

“I’m sorry if I worried you.” I whispered, eyes turned blindly away from him. A silence hung between us, pressing me to say something more. “But I had to do it.” I continued, throat shifting uncomfortably over words I was still trying to force myself to believe. “We would have lost Echo if I hadn’t.”

“I didn’t know how to help you.” My gaze darted toward him, caught off-guard by the depth of remorse in those words he barely let himself whisper. The lower ridge of his helmet clicked against his chest plate, and I didn’t need to see him to know exactly how the muscles locked about his jaw, teeth grinding beneath the effort to force his voice steady. “You were…” His mic caught the slow breath he forced himself to release before he continued. “I had no karking idea what I was supposed to do.” His armor creaked from how tightly his hands clenched around his arms.

I wasn’t expected that. I’d half feared he was mad that Wrecker had comforted me through the night instead of him, or frustrated that I’d placed myself in such a dangerous position to save Echo… but this…

Movements hesitant, waiting for any sign of refusal, I stepped in front of him, hands tentatively reaching for his helm, but he made no effort to evade me as I gently eased it free. His brows were furrowed sharply above eyes glaring at the dirt beneath our feet. I set that delicately calibrated bucket down before reaching for him, hands whispering softly up the sharp line of his jaw as my thumbs danced lightly atop his cheeks.

“You did help me.” I murmured, but his frown only deepened. “You took care of me… You may not think that was important, but it was.” His shoulder tensed, and I could see the dismissal just pulling his lips into the beginnings of a scowl.

“Didn’t do a damn thing to keep you from breaking down last night.” He retorted, disdain dripping from every word.

“Yeah…” I breathed, that familiar guilt rekindling through my chest. “But there was nothing you could have done to stop that, Crosshair.” His scowl only deepened.

“Didn’t take Wrecker long to figure out how to help you.” That’s what I was expecting; the way he nearly snarled his brother’s name despite how clearly his anger was directed only toward himself.

“I didn’t come all the way out here looking for Wrecker.” I whispered, hands stilling against him in a silent plea, and I nearly sobbed when his eyes reluctantly met mine. I’d never seen him so full of doubt.

“I tortured him.” I whispered suddenly, and I told myself it was to break him free of the self-deprecating thoughts that tormented him, to rend myself open and reveal that raw, festering truth both as distraction and to alleviate those whispers of inferiority. This was something I hadn’t told his brothers, wouldn’t tell his brothers, and, as his attention darted fully to me, I knew he understood that.

“I broke his elbow so he couldn’t fight… and then I hit him… I hit him until he could barely speak…” My voice sounded… hollow, lips still frozen in that earlier smile though I was certain it looked wrong beneath the emptiness of my eyes. “Echo was trapped. I couldn’t get his scomp out of the terminal… He wouldn’t tell me how to get him out… so I broke his fingers… and then I shot them off.” There was an edge of horror darkening that gorgeous amber. He wasn’t horrified by what I’d done, but I wanted him to be. I wanted him to berate me for my monstrous actions so I wouldn’t be alone in my disgust, but I knew his horror was only for the way my own words ruined me.

“I broke him… and I got Echo free…” My voice dropped into a hoarse whisper, tears I’d barely noticed clawing up my throat finally slipping down my cheeks as I added, “And I killed him.”

Crosshair’s shoulders rocked beneath too-quick breaths, brows drawn together sharply enough to form a deep crease between them. My hands belatedly pulled away from him to return aimlessly to my sides.

“He’d already given up.” I whispered. “I’m a medic.” Finally, my voice broke. “I only wanted to help people.” His throat shifted stiffly, lips parting but unable to bring himself to speak. “The way he screamed…” My faltering breaths robbed those words of their clarity, but he understood, and whatever spell had held him still broke as his arms darted around me, clutching me against him for mere seconds before his hands frantically reached up to cradle my head, fingers burying themselves into my hair. His forehead pressed almost painfully against mine as he fought to steady himself before pulling back just enough to meet my gaze.

“Damn it.” The growled curse hissed through gritted teeth. “You should never have had to do that…” I stood unmoving before him, frozen by the rage in his voice despite knowing it wasn’t meant for me. “But you didn’t do a damn thing wrong!” He nearly snarled, straining to keep himself under control.

“I took an oath, Cross… and I-”

“Yeah, and I shot your damn brother, but you don’t blame me for it!” He snapped suddenly. The silence that followed forbade either of us from moving, from breathing. Neither had brought it up since that night. Whether that was because time simply hadn’t allowed it or due to some unspoken fear of what might happen if we breached that silence, I couldn’t bring myself to say, but he couldn’t take back those words regardless the regret that washed through him. They hung between us like poison; bombs waiting to see who might trigger the first explosion.

“That was different.” I listened to that vain effort to fight back the tension between us before even realizing I’d begun to speak.

“The only difference,” he argued quietly, “is that you knew why you were doing it… You knew that it would make a difference – that it would let you get Echo out of there.” That wretched darkness tainted the brilliant gold dancing through his eyes, and I wanted to sob at the sight of it. I remembered the emptiness he’d hid behind to mask the sorrow in his voice when he’d told me that it wasn’t his choice to become a sniper, that the choice was forced upon him purely due to the nature of his mutations.

“The only reason I had to pull that trigger… were orders from someone I’ve never met.” His hands fell away from me, and I had to fight to keep from reaching up in a desperate plea to keep him from pulling away.

“You’re right.” I said, almost shocked to hear the anger suddenly fueling my voice. His eyes widened in surprise before that heartbreaking resignation stole over him, as though he’d been awaiting this for days. “You had the choice to either follow that order or be chastised for failure. You had the choice to kill a soldier of the enemy army or risk whatever kriffed up punishment those damn long-necks have waiting for soldiers who refuse to thoughtlessly obey.”

Each word grew sharper, louder, emboldened with a rage all my own that he was placed into that position at all, and I was suddenly struck by the realization that we’d both been forced by circumstances beyond our control; that he was right in comparing how effortlessly I blamed myself with how adamantly I refused to blame him. That realization must have shown through in my expression because his eyes refocused intently on me.

I drew a slow, deep breath, gaze softening as I looked up at him. Without a word, I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around him. He paused for only a beat before returning the embrace, hands slipping lightly over my shoulders.

“Thank you.” I breathed, and his touch instantly lost all hesitation. One hand slipped up my neck to again let his fingers tangle through my hair while the other wrapped around my lower back, locking me against him, the edges of his armor pressing unapologetically into me. “I really hate your armor sometimes.” I mumbled. He was quiet for a moment longer before letting a breathy chuckle escape him, and my heart leapt at the sound as he leaned over me.

“Can’t make it that easy for you to get me undressed.” He teased, lips dancing lightly atop my forehead.

“I haven’t gotten you undressed yet.” I reminded almost petulantly, brow hitching as I shifted just enough to glance up at him. He returned my glare with a quiet smirk that sent warmth fluttering through my chest.

The shrill chime of an incoming message drew a short sigh from him, attention reluctantly falling to his comm.

“Hunter’s asking if you found me. I’m tempted to say ‘no’, but apparently, he wants me to bring you back for lunch.” He droned in feigned annoyance, and I found myself biting back the threat of laughter as he tucked the comm away without replying. “Come on.” He muttered, stepping away to grab his rifle and helmet before looping his arm around my waist. “If we wait too long, he’ll come hunt us down himself.”

“Cross?” I called hesitantly after we’d begun walking back. His gaze shifted toward me, but I didn’t turn from the path stretching out before us. “Don’t tell Echo what I did.” I whispered the plea before glancing only briefly at him. His thumb brushed against my hip, fingers tightening so gently around me, I almost missed the comforting gesture as he continued forward in silence, but I didn’t doubt he understood.

Next Chapter

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