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#They have to keep the curtains drawn in the throne room for the king
secretwhumplair · 2 months
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Nightfall
1,329 words | Mirai and the serpent king (sequel to Dinner)
Content | Slavery, fear, nudity, implied starvation, implied past and future noncon, non-con touch (non-sexual)
Notes | The serpent king is weird. Weirdly gentle, that is.
This one has a little NSFW bonus snip I'll link at the end! Baby steps haha.
Taglist | @yet-another-heathen @echo-goes-aaa @whumpinator
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Mirai couldn’t remember ever having a meal like this. Sure, most of his masters had fed him well enough, not wanting him to lose too much weight; many had given him »treats« like a little pet. But this was an entire feast.
He should not have been put in front of a feast like that when he was famished from weeks of marching and a day’s worth of skipped meals. He kept himself together at first, but the temptation was simply too much, and nothing happened to stop him, anyway.
And everything was so good. It seemed unreal that a serpent palace’s kitchen could hit his elven tastebuds so well; or his tastes simply had broadened beyond recognition—not that he had ever been able to afford being too choosy. For a long, precious moment he simply enjoyed the food in front of him, the flavours and the plenty filling his belly.
Then, his hunger sated, he realized the serpent king was watching him; perhaps had been watching him the entire time.
He could feel himself blush, again. »Thank you for the meal, Master,« he muttered sheepishly.
»I hope you enjoyed it.« The serpent king grinned, showing his sharp teeth. He had been keeping to the meatier dishes—it seemed he had to be grateful he was being offered meat-free food at all, it wasn’t like all of his masters had cared—and Mirai had to think of what the traders had told him: that the king ate slaves he grew tired of.
A shiver ran down his spine, though he tried to conceal it. It didn’t matter; trying to keep his master pleased was the best he could do, anyway. »I did. Thank you, Master.«
The serpent king reached out and cupped his cheek.
Mirai accepted the touch without flinching, the fear that had temporarily eased flaring back up. He would be good. He had to take every chance at mercy he would get.
»I’m glad.« The serpent king lowered his hand, taking Mirai’s again. It still felt odd—almost tender. »If you’re quite sated, then come with me.«
He nodded and followed—only realizing as he went his mistake, that he should have spoken, but it was too late now—followed the serpent king into another room.
Thick curtains were drawn over what Mirai assumed to be another row of large windows—dusk had fallen by now—and tapestries covered the walls, giving the room a cozy atmosphere. In the middle of it sat an enormous bed.
So here they were.
He must stay relaxed, Mirai reminded himself.
The serpent king looped around him, like he had first done in the throne room, as if to assert there was nowhere to run. As if such a thought would ever cross Mirai’s mind. Even in the early days of his enslavement, he had been too frightened for that.
He was once again reminded just how big the serpent king was when, without moving the loop away from him, he climbed onto the bed with his upper body and still had enough leeway to turn around, reaching a hand out to Mirai. »Come, Mirai.«
Mirai took the offered hand, uncertainly—it seemed a little too assertive, even when the serpent king had offered—but the serpent king quickly shattered the illusion by pulling him in with more force than anything else he had so far done to Mirai.
Which was, Mirai had to remind himself, a mercifully low bar. Of course it wouldn’t stay that way.
He was practically pulled onto the bed, kneeling, and for the first time, the serpent king coiled closely enough around him to touch, his scales cool on Mirai’s skin. One hand wrapped around his waist, the other cupped his cheek once more, a warm thumb stroking his face.
»Are you nervous, little one?« His voice was so quiet there was no identifying the tone.
Mirai didn’t know what he wanted to hear. Would his nervosity be seen as ungrateful, after his master had been so kind and gentle with him? Or would he enjoy knowing he was anxious? He couldn’t know, so he stuck with the truth.
»Yes, Master.« Immediately he felt that had been the wrong answer. Obviously the serpent king wanted a pretense of comfort after bathing and feeding him—
»Don’t be.« The serpent king ran his hand down his body until both were on his waist, tugging him closer. Mirai obediently let himself be manipulated, his heart in his throat, until he was right up against his master, one arm wrapped securely around him, the other hand digging into his hair from beneath, softly scraping over his scalp. »I won’t hurt you. Just try to relax.«
His hand moved down the nape of his neck, starting to rub little circles into his skin, only slightly hindered by the collar.
»It’s okay.«
Mirai leant in, giving to the light pressure, until he was resting his forehead against his master’s shoulder.
»Let me take that off…«
Mirai closed his eyes, letting the gentle touch wash over him while it lasted. The serpent king took off his upper… garment, if such it could be called—the thought of wearing things like these wherever he was put a strange lump in his stomach—and continued moving, slowly, in warm, pleasant circles, down his shoulders, down his back.
He didn’t know what he was trying to achieve, but he was grateful for the opportunity to let himself relax. It wasn’t even hard, with the blunted nails working his muscles, in an almost-hug. He was tempted to simply forget where he was, just enjoy this for whatever it was. But he couldn’t do that; he had to be alert for when his master inevitably asked something of him. He couldn’t risk angering him, not when when he was just about to fuck him, not when he was still sore from what the traders had done to him on the road.
»Easy.« The serpent king gently pushed him down backwards, until he was, once more, laying on his back, cupped by his coils. His hands shifted to the front of his shoulders and continued with their work.
It was weird. The king was, for all intents and purposes, massaging Mirai, and if anything, their roles should be reversed.
But of course, he couldn’t argue. He didn’t really want to argue.
»You look so pretty. That’s it, just relax.«
But nothing worse followed. The serpent king’s hands only journeyed on, gently travelling down his arms—first right, then left—skipping only over the bruises, the touch trailing out over his fingers, then returning at his collarbones. Like before in the bath, the serpent king worked his way down his chest, ran his fingers gentle over his belly, then took off the other piece of dubious clothing; unlike before, he stopped short of his private parts, travelling on across his thighs, here, too, avoiding the bruised areas and gently, warmly kneading the muscles where they were most tired from the journey.
Mirai had given up trying to understand what his master was trying to do. He had to accept the gentleness, be grateful for it while it lasted, and he was too exhausted to try to cling on to his vigilance. He simply gave himself over to the serpent king’s touch, let him move his almost-limp body around as convenient—he was rolled over at one point, and though it sent a final spark of anxiety through him, nothing happened but more of the same, until the serpent king’s hand had laid claim to every inch of his skin, from head to toe. His face came last, after his scalp had been massaged, being covered in gentle strokes over his long-closed eyes.
Mirai was already half-asleep, and when the serpent king rested him down onto the mattress, tucking his head onto his own shoulder, and curled his body around him, he slid off into unconciousness easily.
»Good night, Mirai.«
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-> Bonus NSFW snippet <-
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thecatduet422 · 2 years
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Chapter One: Honor
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Dragon King!bakugou katsuki x reader
Rating: Mature
Tags: violence, blood, dragons, its wartime babes so people might get booboos, romance, sexual tension, medieval politics, northern!reader, knight!midoriya
Summary: With the fury of winter on the precipice, and food provisions deathly short, you have no choice but to represent your House and speak with the Dragon King. The only problem is your Houses have been at odds for centuries, and the fearsome Dragon King is not exactly easy to convince... (GoT-inspired AU)
Chapter: 3/? (20,590 words)
AO3 Link
Chapter Two
Chapter One: Honor (3.6k)
Crisp cold air stung your cheeks, moving along to whip through your hair as you gaze at the land ahead. Hills of green grass blew with the breeze, carrying the scent of earth as you’re met with nothing but gray beyond it. Gray, only growing darker as it continues to bring forth the ever-growing chill that bites your nose and shivers down your bones.
Winter is coming.
Winter is coming, and you won’t have enough food for it. For the first time in history, the cruelty of the North is crushing your home. Walls of misfortune are slowly crumbling in, and the only thing left holding them up is loyalty. 
Starvation, surely, would be the breaking point.
Worst of all, your little brother is sick again. The oncoming chill hasn’t been kind to him, and as you gaze out of the tower, worrying what to do next, he lies helplessly in bed, mumbling from nightmares only a fever could bring.
Your mother was barely holding it together after the passing of your father, but now that her youngest child is sick, she has been inconsolable. Keeping the curtains drawn, refusing to leave your little brother’s room, refusing to listen to you, refusing to do anything at all.
“By all the gods, just leave me be, child! Just let your lord brother handle it! I can't…”
But there’s been no word from your older brother, the now-reigning Lord of the North. He’s supposedly on his way back from the war, trudging through mud and snow to get back home, but you don’t know when, and you couldn’t afford to wait.
Something had to be done. Now.
And as you stood at the tower, high above everyone, you decided to close your eyes, focus on the sound of the wind, and think.
Allies were slim, all thanks to the fruitless war your father started. The other noble families of the North have abandoned you. Multiple ravens sent to the East came back with no response, and you certainly can’t go to the West, the very people you went to war with.
That left the South.
It’s the logical choice. But, gods. The South. You could hear the men of your House now.
The South?! They, who broke their own promise to us centuries ago. They, who sit upon their thrones as if they were forged by the gods themselves and not by men. Nothernmen! They use our people for their own desire for glory, and what do we get?! Nothing.
Through the whistle of the wind you could hear the trees swaying in the nearby woods…
What do they know of honor?
Honor is worth nothing without people to defend it.
So you called a meeting, requesting to go South and speak with the Dragon King.
And like you knew they would, they asked the very question…
What do they know of honor?
Nothing, my lords. But I know everything about it.
Convincing them to put trust in you wasn’t easy, but you reminded them of the oath they made to your bloodline, and they folded. 
Unlike others, northerners were true to their word.
You later returned to the tower for your final goodbye, closing your eyes to tune out the bustle of people down below. You focused on the wind, on the sound of the forest, trees rustling like a whisper…
But you heard nothing.
The fastest way was by ship and, having never been on one before, you quickly found out the sea-life wasn’t for you. After reaching open water, it wasn’t long before your stomach started mirroring the motion of the ship, dipping down and then up again while the stinging stench of salt attacked your sinuses, all resulting in you hurling your breakfast into the sea. The sun, which was once calm and gentle in the North, was now beaming down on you with hatred, causing you to sweat profusely. You had to forgo several layers of clothing, which in return, left you feeling completely exposed, even with the reassurance that you were still appropriate by southern standards.
You practically rejoiced when you finally reached the harbor, simply happy to be on solid ground again. But your relief soured when you found that what awaited you was not a horse, but a carriage.
“It was recommended, m’lady. For your protection,” Ser Midoriya told you, squeamish at your obvious annoyance.
Another controversial decision made by your father. Not only did Young Midoriya not have any battle experience, but he was southern (“And as yellow-bellied as one,” you heard some guards say once). And yet, your father took the liberty of knighting him, even going so far as naming him your sworn protector. 
You quickly found out that, despite his lack of grit, the now-Ser Midoriya took his oath seriously, panicking anytime you showed any sort of reckless behavior. A highly stressful situation for him, as that seems to be all you ever do.
“It’s alright, ser. I’ll make do,” you assured him. 
It would do no good to stress out your knight now, not when there were more important things on task for today.
But your motion sickness returned once you were boxed in the death trap, with every small bump controlling your stomach like a puppeteer, helpless to its command. It took all of your willpower not to throw up again, if only because there were people in the streets and you didn’t wish to make more of a scene.
It didn’t help that Ser Midoriya kept voicing his concern throughout the entire ride. 
“Uh, m’lady. You should-”
“Not now, ser knight,” you groaned, desperately sticking your head out the window for air, people be damned.
“But m’lady-”
“Not now!” you snapped at him, the feeling of nauseousness fully overupting your patience. You knew it was wrong to snap, that Ser Midoriya was only trying to help, but as of right now you couldn’t care less. You’ll apologize to him afterwards, when your stomach wasn’t trying to leave your body.
By the time you reached the gates, your hair was wild from the wind, and you still reeked of the sea. Your main thought was that you hoped you had time for a bath before meeting the King.
Then you stepped out, and once your feet touched the ground your nose was hit with the sudden smell of smoke. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, less so than the smell of the sea at least, and having huddled close to the fireplace many times in your youth, it somehow brought you a sense of remembrance. 
And for the very first time since leaving the North, you felt a sense of ease.
But then a screech pierced the air, interrupting it. The sky grew black as a giant gust of wind hit your back, whooshing your hair forward and blinding you. You felt Ser Midoriya drape over you in protection. He cried something in your ear, but you couldn’t quite hear it through the rush of the wind. Once you felt the sun reappear, you blinked your eyes open and looked up.
By the gods…
A dragon, gliding up in the air with such, powerful ease. Its scales glistened in the sun with such a multitude of colors- you couldn’t tell if it was red, blue, green, or black. But you could see the shape of the wings and the curve of the tail, bolting through the sky in a speed you didn’t know was possible…
“Are you alright, m'lady?” Ser Midoriya asked you, shaking, as if the dragon was going to swing back around and eat you all.
You continued to stare after it in a strange sort of stupor. Knowing you had to put up a front for your men, you gulped down your amazement (and fear) and were able to let out a small, “uh huh…”
You knew there would be dragons, of course. In all the books ever written about the South, every single one of them mentioned the dragons. But obviously there was a vast difference between seeing one in a drawing and seeing the actual thing.
A dangerously vast difference.
“Shall we begin, m'lady?” You looked at your knight, then followed his gaze forward.
Of all the gods…
The Bridge of Han’ei. You’ve read about this as well. Made out of impenetrable blackstone, melted with dragon fire and further crafted by northern stonemasons. Your people
This was your history just as much as the Dragon King’s, and that fact angered you. In all of your studies of the South, never once did you find any mention of your people. Decades of building weapons, castles, bridges- this city, and for what? 
A broken oath. Dishonorable.
It was your people that put in the work. It was with the blood and sweat of the North that went into this bridge. But because the southerners have dragons, they’re the ones history remembers…
You took a step onto the bridge, placing a hand on top of the ledge. Despite its smooth looking appearance, the blackstone felt coarse and rough, tickling your palm as you brushed against it. It was also frighteningly warm, probably from the centuries it spent out in the sunlight. You welcomed the heat regardless, marveling at the beauty of it all. You could catch the subtleties of northern craftsmanship- the style of the bridge itself, the precision of its design.
The South may not be able to see it, but you certainly do.
And with that in mind, you began your march towards the castle.
*****
In reality it was a long walk, but you made it feel quick. Ignoring your knight’s plea to slow down, to wait for him, you strode ahead, staring at nothing but the castle gate as it grew closer and closer. You could hear the deafening screech of dragons above you, but your fear was gone. If they wanted to kill you, they would’ve done it by now.
You spotted the guards on the gatehouse away, scurrying about like ants. When you approached, the two stationed at the entrance stood tall, spears pointing at you with a, “Halt! Who goes there?”
You give them your name, stating that you wanted an audience with the King.
“Eh? The Lady of Kokorishi?” The guard on the left looked over to the one on the right. “Where’s that?”
“In the West, I think?”
You could slap someone.
You opened your mouth to speak, but Ser Midoriya raced up next to you, gasping for air. 
“May I introduce… the Lady of Kokorishi… R-Ruling House of the North,” he wheezed out. “We’ve requested an audience with the King.”
Your poor knight. The walk on the bridge must have been torturous with the weight of his armor. Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to walk ahead…
“My lady!” A man, who you assumed to be one the King’s advisors, approached, carefully placing himself in between the two guards before you. “I hope you had a peaceful journey.”
“The winds weren’t kind,” you said with a sour expression, the rest of your party now reaching the end of the drawbridge.
“Ah, apologies for the difference in weather. You’re probably not used to all the sun, being up North and all.“ The advisor shot you a smile.  "But at least the dragons were a sight to see!”
A fly began to dance around his spiky yellow hair, and you took the time to grumble sarcastically while he swatted at it. “Oh, they certainly were…”
“Well, on behalf of the King, welcome to Tochiryuu!” The advisor bowed. “Denki Kaminari of the Arashi Mountains. I will show you to court, where the King is waiting.” Kaminari went to turn around.
“Uh, would it be possible to freshen up before I meet the King?” you asked. “As I’ve mentioned, the journey was long.”
Kaminari winced sheepishly. “Unfortunately, the King doesn’t have the time. Running a newly independent kingdom has him very busy. He hopes you understand…”
You knew it was unintentional, but you still felt a sting at the comment, remembering your own House’s war. 
You simply sighed and nodded. No use arguing.
“By the way, you, ser knight, look familiar.” Kaminari pointed at Midoriya. “Have we met before?”
“O-Oh, u-h…” New bolts of sweat ran down Midoriya’s head. He scratched his head nervously.
“My knight is actually from the South,” you provided, completely oblivious to Ser Midoriya’s small urges to quit talking. “Perhaps you’ve seen his face before.”
“I know I have. I just can’t remember where…” Kaminari scratched his chin thoughtfully, studying Ser Midoriya’s face. “Have you ever participated in one of our tournaments before?”
Midoriya choked, bolts of sweat raining down his forehead as he rambled his words.“You’reprobablythinkingaboutthatonetourneytwoyearsbackbutthatwassolongago-”
“The tourney!” Lord Kaminari snapped his fingers. “Right! You fell off your horse before the jousting even began.”
Ser Midoriya’s face turned beet red.
“Hah! Oh, the King was so angry. I thought he was going to explode.” Kaminari laughed at the memory, wiping a tear from his eye. He went to turn but froze. “Oh! I would recommend maybe hiding in the back, ser. The King still complains about that, even to this day…”
When Kaminari looked away, you glared at your knight furiously.
“I-I tried to tell you, m’lady!” he whispered. “On the carriage ride. But you wouldn’t listen…”
The realization hit you like a brick. So that was what he was trying to say. Great. Another obstacle to face when talking to the King.
You glanced back towards your knight, who was currently downcasting his head in shame, and you could tell he was on the verge of tears. 
You sighed, feeling your anger deflate at the sight. This was nobody’s fault. Certainly not Ser Midoriya’s, who was only trying his best. 
You patted his shoulder. “Ease up, my knight. There’s still so much to do.”
Ser Midoriya sniffed back his tears, wiping the ones that already fell with the back of his hand. He looked ahead with determination. “Right.”
You followed Kaminari behind the castle gates. Once you were inside, the air became stuffy, the sharp smell of smoke from outside sweetened with candles and incense. Wordlessly maneuvering around courtiers, soldiers, and servants, you snuck a glance around, surprised to see that while the Bridge of Han’ei was entirely made out of blackstone, there was a severe lack of it inside the castle.
It made you smirk. Even with all the tools, the southerners still lacked the craftsmanship needed to forge it.
“And here we are!” Kaminari finally stopped. You were now in front of two large wooden doors, both carved with beautiful images of dragons breathing fire, their eyes piercing into you like at any moment they could come to life. 
Beyond them must be the Great Hall.
“Once the doors open, you’re free to enter and state your plea to the King.”
“My plea?” you questioned. “You make it sound as if you want me to beg.”
“Well, wouldn’t hurt your cause, especially with His Grace.” Kaminari shrugged, then pounded on the door, the sound of it echoing off of the wood. They swung open, the breeze urging you to enter. And you did, taking one solid step into the great room.
Beams of light leaked in from the sides, their source coming from windows that punctured the walls. Specks of dust danced within them, eventually leading down to the cracks of stone on the floor. Perhaps the King didn’t have time for upkeep during the war?
But the main part of the Great Hall remained dim, growing darker and darker the farther it went down, to the point where the end was completely engulfed in shadow. You caught a glimpse of light from within that shadow, a shine bouncing off of any random light that reached it.
“What do you want?” The darkness boomed, filled with anger and impatience.
You could hear your knight’s armor rattle softly next to you.
“Your Grace!” Kaminari stepped forward, gesturing towards you. “May I present-”
“I know who she is!” it snapped. “What does she want?”
The question echoed across the room, followed by silence…
Kaminari arched an eyebrow at you, waiting.
Oh. Now?
You took a couple steps forward. When you squinted, you could make out the outline of a throne…
“Your Grace,” you began, still trying to see within the shadow, “if you know who I am, then you know I come from the Ruling House of the North and that winter is coming. The fallout of the war has left our provisions dangerously short-”
“And whose fault is that?” the dark grumbled before letting out a scoff. “Some House. Didn’t even think to call on me to help fight. Not even after I won my war against the West.”
Embarrassment crept up the back of your neck, flaring your cheeks. You remember bringing up the idea once, only to be immediately shut down by your father. “The North are a very proud folk-”
A snort interrupted you.
“-who don’t quite forget history as easily as you do,” you snapped.
“I remember our history, Lady!” the dark yelled.
“Well, perhaps I should remind you anyway,” you seethed, walking forward, “because it seems like you’re missing some things.”
You stopped, now able to see a hand draped over an armrest, decorated with golden rings. You looked over to the other one to find it grasping onto the handle of a sword, its blade large enough to decapitate with one swipe. But before you could falter at such a sight, you saw it shine, and realized the sword was the source of light you saw earlier. And when it twinkled again, you knew exactly what it was made of. Which sword that was.
You continued. “Missing things… like how northernmen are responsible for the Bridge, or for that sword in your hand…”
You saw the grip on the sword tighten, and you knew your words had taken effect.
“Centuries ago, our people were at peace, and in result some of the greatest creations were made…” You took a couple more steps, now catching the color red, covering what appeared to be the torso. A cape. 
Your eyes lingered up. The hair you could also see, blonde and untamed. The face was still in shadow though, and you could see nothing of it. But you could feel him looking at you, his aura growing the closer you got.
It was strong, intimidating.
Powerful.
You gulped down the lump in your throat and carried on. “For whatever reason, your House broke the promise it made to mine. And ever since then, the North has been overshadowed by the glamor and prowess your people pretend to have.”
“We don’t pretend to have anything!” The vibrance in the voice was lost now that you were closer. You could hear the roughness of it, the fury behind it. “We’ve earned everything we have, same as you! I’d like to see your people try to tame a dragon.”
“Fair enough,” you conceded. “Regardless, my people were smart enough to keep their secrets of craftsmanship amongst themselves. The South hasn’t been able to forge blackstone ever since.” You looked back towards the throne, now seeing that it was also made out of blackstone, but it was bulky and uneven, a complete opposite of the Bridge. 
“Without lack of trying,” you said pointedly, and you could see the King bristle at your words. “Help the North survive winter, and we will provide our services again. You could have a proper throne, one for your new reign.”
The King huffed. “And how do I know you won’t go back on your word once winter is over?”
You scoffed, glaring into the shadow of the King. “You know nothing of the North.”
That made him stand, the King now towering over you as he stepped down, entering into the light. Step by step, all was revealed; brown boots, covered in dirt and soot. The ends of a cape, smeared just the same, but clean going up, revealing its blood red color. The torso, fit from years of combat and also bare, with tattoos of blue and red inked onto the muscles. And then the face, handsome and stoic as a king’s should be, but with crimson eyes that made your heart pound as they stared back at you. 
The aura you previously felt, the one tamed by shadow, was now in full force, its source coming from the eyes.
He continued to march over to you, and all you could do was hear the pounding of your heart as he drew near. Unable to speak. Unable to think. All you could do was take in the fury behind those eyes and let them absorb you, until all you could see was them.
“I know plenty,” he growled, finally breaking the silence. You were too busy staring back at the crimson to respond.
And then a cough coming from the background pulled it away.
“Hey!” the King suddenly barked. “Didn’t I banish you?!”
Spell broken, you looked behind you, seeing Ser Midoriya shakingly hold up a finger as he said, “Actually, Your Grace. I’m here with the Lady…”
The King sneered, glaring at Midoriya’s armor. “Your House truly is stupid. Who in their right mind would knight him?”
He turned away, and you felt cold, despite the sweltering heat in the Great Hall. The King began to march back to his throne. “Kaminari will show you to your rooms. You can eat, bathe- gods know you need it.”
Embarrassment creeped up again, and you turned around before the King could see it. You began to walk back, but faltered halfway. There was still so much you wanted to say, and now with your back turned, you had the confidence to say it. Looking back over your shoulder, you said,
“If you’re not willing to fix the sins of your House, by either honor or duty, then you have no right to call yourself a man, let alone a king.”
And before your courage could leave you, you walked out, without looking back, leaving the King speechless.
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arrowmarrow · 2 years
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Vampire Lance this, Vampire Lance that. Have we considered, vampire Sonic tormenting his easily flustered, favorite knight? 
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anyoneseenadam · 3 years
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The Moon Spirit - three
Dorian x reader, Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)
Description: When you’re taught to be a queen from such a young age, nothing could go wrong. But when the king starts to fear your growing power you find yourself thrust into a world of faeries, evil magic and powerful men, learning to stand on your own can be harder than it seems.
warnings: Fenrys being cute, badass reader but like a shit ton of angst, allusions to sexual assualt (Fenrys canon stuff), mentions of weapons? idk if that counts
word count: 4.4k
a/n: so this took a while but it’s finally done, please comment it genuienly keeps me going cause it’s super easy to get unmotivated, hope you enjoy <3
——————————————————————————
After he left you, Fenrys begrudgingly found himself back at the palace, bowed on one knee in front of Maeve. She looked cruelly beautiful as always but there was something more sinister sparkling in her eyes today, remaining quiet as he stood back to his full height, meeting her gaze with wavering confidence.
“Who have you been with?” she finally broke the silence and he cursed himself for thinking he could ever get away with that.
“I just walked a young girl home, she was new, and I was afraid someone may take advantage of her if she was alone,” he spoke truthfully, allowing Maeve to push into his mind as she searched for a hidden lie.
He watched as she drew in a sharp breath, something like fear flickering across her face before her tightly drawn lips spread into a wide smile.
“Come here,” she commanded, and he went to stand in front of her, close enough to smell her sickening perfume and to see the flawless texture of her skin. “Do you love this girl?”
He shook his head, no, and she ran a hand down his face in a motherlike way. “Good, you will be recruiting her.” His eyes widened and he had to put his energy into not flinching away.
“What?” he spoke with an incredulous tone and Maeve glared at his lack of respect making him bow his head. “Sorry your majesty, I’m just slightly confused. She was just a young girl and didn’t seem to have any former training.”
“And that’s why I’m in charge, you men are too foolish. That was a powerful girl, and I would rather she remained on my side than any other.” He frowned, powerful? She had seemed kind, lost and strong enough to hold her own – but not powerful.
“I need you to see her again, convince her to join.” Fenrys physically felt the command go through him and he stood taller again, nodding gruffly as she waved her hand in dismissal.
--
Your first few days of work had been harder than expected, and you had gone home with aching muscles from lifting books and sore cheeks from plastering on smiles. Albert had made your days easier, drinking hot tea with you as you slowly revealed more and more about your past to him, his kind, old eyes lulling you into a comforting state.
But you didn’t receive rest when you got home. Ploughing through books on spirits and practicing using the limited magic you had found until the early hours of the morning, getting barely two hours of sleep a night unplagued by nightmares. By your fifth day Albert had handed you a pot of cosmetic product to hide the circles forming, commenting on scaring the customers away as you stuck your tongue out at him but smearing some on regardless.
On the second Saturday after your arrival you had a day off and used it to venture into the market, your empty shelves no longer sustaining you, let alone Amaris. Your basket soon filled with colourful fruits and vegetables, and you were browsing the fish section when a shadow fell over you.
“Let me take that for you,” you turned to see Fenrys standing over you with that same easy smile, his head tilted slightly. You rolled your eyes, trying to block out the feelings expanding in your chest at just the sight of him.
“And here I thought I had lost you,” you muttered, and he laughed, taking your basket from you, and paying for the wrapped salmon you had just been passed. “You don’t need to do stuff like that,” you told him, and he took your arm as he led you out of the market.
“Can’t help myself, I see a pretty girl in need and boom, I have to help.” He joked and you laughed lightly.
“Oh yeah, the damsel in distress disease, I’ve heard that’s a nasty one to cure,” he smiled down at you with a sparkle in his eyes.
“Not really, all I need is a kiss,” he tugged you closer and you squealed, shoving him away as he laughed.
“As I said, nasty.” He dramatically put a hand to his heart, throwing his head back in distress.
“You wound me darling,” he complained, and you laughed, hating how much you genuinely enjoyed his company. You reached your apartment in no time, and he stood at the bottom of the steps leading up to your door.
“So no invitation of tea, a glass of wine, a home cooked meal?” he asked, and you rolled your eyes,
“I’m afraid I reserve that for people I like,” he raised his eyebrows, hopping up the steps two at a time.
“Even if I have genuine cause to talk to you?” he asked and the sincerity in his eyes made a shot of fear run through you. He couldn’t know, could he?
“What is it?” you asked, and he smiled softly, a little pain shining through his loving eyes.
“The queen has a proposition to make.” His voice quietened and you straightened your posture, your entire demeanour switching in a second.
“Come in.” you opened the door and stepped in, allowing him to duck as he followed.
The first thing he noticed was how barren your apartment was, a simple kitchen, connected to a room with a pale blue sofa and worn coffee table. Your shelves were bare, and he sneaked a look into your room as he passed the open door, your mattress on the floor covered by only a thin blanket and a few cushions, one incredibly expensive looking gold dress on the floor, stained dark red. But before he could venture further in he heard you cooing in an impossibly soft voice.
He turned the corner and blanched at the sight he saw, “What the?”
You turned from were you were feeding small bits of salmon to a pure white bundle of fluff that hissed as soon as it saw him. “Amaris, be polite!” you scalded, and he surveyed the cat with a wary look, untrusting of the small creature.
“You have a cat.” He stated, suddenly completely unsure of his taste in women.
“No he’s actually a spider,” you deadpanned and Fenrys pouted.
“But I thought you’d be a dog person,” he complained, and you laughed, moving to throw open the curtains in the room before you started putting away the food you had bought, boiling a pot of water over your stove.
“I just like animals, why does it matter?” you asked, and he threw his arms up before transforming into his wolf form. You gasped and Amaris meowed loudly, scampering to hide behind your legs.
“You’re a wolf.” You stated and he turned back with a smile.
“No I’m a spider,” you flipped him off as you turned to put the rest of your food away.
“I prefer you as a wolf, they’re one of my favourite animals,” you told him and he smiled, sticking his tongue out childishly at Amaris who just sauntered of to doze on a pillow.
“So, what does the queen want?” you asked, pouring the hot water into a pot you had prepared, and he sat down on your worn-down sofa, cringing as it creaked under his weight. You followed suit soon after putting the pot and two mugs down, curling your feet underneath yourself as you looked at him.
“Well, she has told me that you’re actually extremely powerful and because of this she wants to recruit you. She wants you to join the Cadre.” He spoke surely and confidently but his eyes shone with wariness.
“Okay first of all, I’m not at all powerful, secondly how would she even know if I was, which I’m not! And third, what is The Cadre?” he laughed slightly and moved forward to pour himself a cup of tea.
“Well you clearly are because she recognised you and always knows these things, trust me. She’s never wrong about this. And The Cadre is a group I’m in, elite soldiers sworn to protect Maeve.” He explained and you shook your head.
“Fenrys I barely know basic self-defence, I’m not a soldier. And I don’t want to be sworn to royalty.” Your hands were shaking slightly at the thought of being sworn to another tyrant, “Plus in all honesty I only found out I was Fae on Monday, so I’m not exactly well versed in this shit.”
“How did you not know before?” he asked – frowning.
“The country I… come from, there was no magic. The king wiped all magic out years ago.”
“Why?” It was an understandable question but still made you panic, he couldn’t know.
“I don’t know, all I know is he did, so those alike me – with magic but born into a magicless world – never got to know.” You were good at concealing emotions, that much Fenrys could see. You seemed to have iron walls built into the clouds around your heart, protecting it as fiercely as you would Amaris.
“Well, Maeve wants to meet with you soon, so let me know when you decide gorgeous,” he stood, and you smiled at him gratefully for not prying further.
“I’m really sorry Fenrys I just don’t think it’s a good idea. As I said I’m not a soldier.” He nodded but his eyes still conveyed a sense of worry.
“Well keep in mind you would get to train with me, probably shirtless.” He joked as you opened the door for him, grinning when you laughed loudly, shoving him through the door.
“Bye Fenrys,” you said, eyes sparkling as he waved, whistling his way down the street comically.
You closed the door as your smile fell, a weight settling on your chest as you already knew why he looked so wary – Kings and Queens didn’t understand the word no.
--
You practically ran to the library the next day, opting to bring Amaris with you as he peeked out of the small handbag you had found stuffed into the back of your closet. When you flew into the library you instantly sought out Albert, who took one look at your flushed, shining appearance and abandoned the pile of books he was putting away, motioning for you to sit down.
You sat quickly, huffing out a breath as Amaris crawled out of his makeshift home and started exploring the new territory of the small backroom reserved for staff only.
“What bothers you child?” Albert’s voice was steady as always and his dry, warm hands grasped yours gently as your eyes filled with unshed tears.
“I just – I needed to talk to someone,” you stuttered out, your breath coming in harsher pants as he shushed you.
“Take a minute and allow yourself to breathe first dear,” he commanded, and you pressed a hand to your heart as you tried to slow its pounding. “Start from the beginning, tell me what’s wrong.”
“The man I loved, his- his name was Dorian, Dorian Havilliard.” You said quietly and Albert let out a small chuckle.
“I presumed as much, I visited Adarlan once, and an old man never forgets the face of a princess.” You looked at him through blurry eyes, confused.
“You knew?” he smiled sadly at you.
“I was 90% certain, but I would never have pressured you to reveal secrets like that.” He passed you a tissue, “But I sense that’s not all that weighs heavy on you?”
You shook your head, “Queen Maeve has made clear that she wishes me to join the Cadre.”
Albert’s face changed with the clear shock, and you bowed your head, shamefully.
“And what did you say?” he asked slowly.
“No, of course! I don’t have any desire to be another monarch’s puppet.” You stated and he shushed you again.
“You need to remember that people always listen.” He scolded, repeating one of the first things he had told you when you started working. “I agree that you should be cautious, but perhaps gaining the queens protection would be beneficial. Plus you would become an extremely skilled swordsman.”
“I am not a man, nor do I wish to be.” You said through gritted teeth, “And I vowed that I would become skilled on my own and go back to Dorian.”
“Yes but if you join, you will be more skilled than ever before,” Albert reasoned and you shook your head, tears welling up again.
“I thought you’d be on my side for this, you are the one who told me to be careful around powerful people.” You felt unjustly betrayed as he spoke and his shoulders slumped slightly, sighing before grasping your hands lightly again.
“I am dear, and I urge you to do what you think is best. But I am simply reminding you that if you truly want to beat this king you are being offered power on a silver platter right now, and perhaps it would be foolish to deny yourself it.” You let his words run around your head as you worked overtime trying to figure out a plan.
“Say I joined – what do I need to do to ensure I don’t become another puppet?” you asked, and he smiled at you.
“First of all, she will offer a blood oath and you must refuse it with everything you have in you – she came to you remember you hold the power. On that note you must summon all those queenly powers of yours and ensure when you speak to her, she is meeting you and she is trying to win you over. Never the other way around.” You nodded, pocketing the information in your head. “When in the palace you are always being watched, always being listened to, so keep your wits about you. But I’m sure you’re used to that by now.”
You laughed under your breath, “It’ll be just like going home,” you commented, and he smiled.
“Sadly yes, now take this money. Go but a new dress and tomorrow you will take a carriage, you can’t walk there.” You thanked him softly, placing the gold in the purse you held, “You’re a kind girl, that is what makes you strong and that’s what will make you a good queen. Don’t let them take your heart.”
Your throat tightened and you nodded due to the lack of trust you held for your voice, standing, and collecting your bag in one hand and Amaris in the other. Albert stood to take you to the door with a smile, and a gentle pat on the shoulder.
“You can have tomorrow off work as well, however I feel our work together is already coming to an end.” You smiled softly, allowing him to pet Amaris’ head softly before he kissed your cheek gently, ushering you out the door.
“Have a good night Albert,” you said, turning to see him watching you with sorrowful eyes.
“Remember what I told you dear, don’t let them take your heart.” Your smile was sad as you spoke,
“I won’t.” You both heard the lie but, neither of you decided to correct it. Not tonight.
--
Of all the things Fenrys expected to see the next morning, you were the one he hoped for. But as he looked around at the powerful men surrounding the room he felt white-hot panic seize him as he realised what you were about to do. You hadn’t even looked at him when you walked in, keeping your eyes trained solely on Maeve, not even dropping them as you dropped in a low curtsy.
He was even more shocked by the blood red dress you adorned, the v-neck deep and skirts long with a slit up either leg, high enough to reveal the halter you wore with a silver dagger and a ruby encrusted hilt secured into place. Every man, woman and mouse watched as you walked through the room – head high and shoulders back, revealing enough to entrance everyone in the room but covering enough to keep them wanting more and he felt his anger grow as he watched you.
You waited with a soft, but condescending, smile on your face, allowing Maeve to regrasp some power by speaking first – every movement so calculated and precise. As he watched you he saw the power and understood the fear and lust building in the room.
“So I guess you heard my offer.” Maeve finally said, drawling low with relaxed posture.
“I did.” Your statement was short, to the point but you saw it grate Maeve’s nerves and smiled as sweet as spun sugar, “Your majesty.”
“And?” he watched as Maeve grew more agitated and was surprised she hadn’t killed you yet, usually not standing for even an ounce of insubordination.
“I am willing to accept on one condition – I’m not taking a blood oath.” He had to fight jumping in the air with glee as you spoke, so afraid you were going to get tangled in the mess he was in. Maeve’s face grew dark, but you held your ground, never letting your eyes stray lest she see your weakness.
“Well that’s simply not viable,” she stated, glaring you into the ground but you just smiled again, nodding with a polite laugh.
“I see, well this was a lovely meeting, gentlemen.” You raised your hand politely as you moved to leave, your eyes finally flittering over him and the rest of the cadre. You bowed once again to Maeve, making to leave when Maeve raised her hand.
“We are not finished.” She stated.
“Well I’m terribly sorry your majesty but I’ve made my terms extremely clear, and since you refuse to budge - I believe we are done.” Your voice was still sweet, but he watched your face change slightly, every bit a queen looking down upon her people. He couldn’t help but wonder were you learned to speak this way, but Maeve simply laughed.
“Yet here you are,” she spoke with a mocking tone, and you smiled with your teeth this time.
“Need I remind you that you sought me out, if I have terms it should be in your best interest to meet them if you wish me to join your miniature army.” Fenrys heard Lorcan snarl lowly next to him but gripped his arm in warning.
“Oh your training is impressive princess, but I’m afraid it will be of no use.” Your face didn’t budge as Maeve spoke, but Fenrys watched as something flickered through your eyes, “You see, I learn of misdemeanours in other courts very easily and I wish to show you what I learned of Adarlan.”
“There’s nothing you could show me that I won’t have seen before,” you said, and he watched the two of you laugh like you were mingling at a party instead of standing of in a court.
“Oh I’m afraid this is relatively new, you might reconsider your terms after this,” you stood straight as Maeve walked down the steps and moved to whisper something the rest of them couldn’t hear in your ear, her hand pressed lightly to the base of your neck.
She pulled away after a few minutes and he took in your now shaking hands, eyes filled with tears you clearly refused to let fall. You took in a steadying breath before speaking, “You’re lying.”
“Oh I wish I was princess, but I can only show the truth and it appears your prince had moved on rather quickly, what use is there going back to a country where you can no longer rule.” She stroked your hair condescendingly and you chewed the inside of your lip as it quivered. “But here, here – under my control – you have power of your own. Men will no longer hold onto you like a prized pony, you will become something they fear, you will be my perfect princess, the daughter I never got to have.”
Fenrys inhaled sharply, he knew Maeve never planned to relent the throne, especially not to a woman from another country. She looked at you like you were a doll, something for her to reshape and change. You must have seen it to, but through your blurry eyes everything had changed.
“Okay,” your voice was smaller than before, and he wanted to tear Maeve limb from limb for having broken you down so harshly with just a few words. She smiled cruelly at you as she cut a small line along her forearm and you bowed your head in pain, before falling to your knees – graceful even as pain consumed your entire being. You brought your lips to her wound and drank as she repeated the words that he remembered all too well.
When you rose your lips were sparkling red, and your eyes were glistening with tears still unshed – but you raised your head like a queen and Maeve smiled.
“I believe you have already met Fenrys, he will be training you as the training you have received is not proficient, I’ll have all your belongings brought to a room here.” Maeve waved her hand to some guards, but you stopped her.
“I only need Amaris brought here; the rest can burn.” You muttered.
“And for your new wardrobe?” She asked and you smiled looking down, wiping your mouth slowly.
“Make it red.” You finally met Fenrys eyes, and he stepped forward, desperate to drag you far, far away.
“Shall I escort her to her new room?” he asked Maeve and she flitted her eyes to him, then to the hand he had pressed to your back.
“Yes and then afterword’s come find me,” she smiled cruelly at him, and he felt you stiffen under his hand, but he just nodded and began to lead you out of the room.
He led you through the corridors and up the stairs in silence, angry at you for accepting and at himself for not putting up more of a fight. When he reached the room he presumed would be yours he opened the door for you, following you in as you sat on the bed, your usual lightness replaced by the weight on your shoulders.
He watched you bow your head and came to sit beside you, “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologise; this was my choice.” You said and he reached an arm around your shoulders, but you quickly shrugged him off.
“I shouldn’t, we shouldn’t, if you and the queen are…” you trailed off and Fenrys bowed his head in shame.
“It’s not like that, she, she makes me,” he muttered, and you inhaled sharply, turning to him with those watery eyes.
“I had no idea, I’m sorry,” you whispered, instantly looping your arms around him neck and holding him tight. “She’s a monster.”
Fenrys huffed a laugh, pulling away, “You’re telling me.”
He reached a hand for your face slowly, wiping under your eyes where a tear had escaped, “how did she change your mind?” he asked, dark eyes searching your face for clues as your bottom lip quivered in pain.
“She showed me home,” was all you said, and his shoulders dropped. He would leave it for now, you were young and clearly not ready to speak – and now, they had all the time in the world to speak.
“Sleep tight, training starts at seven tomorrow,” he stood and kissed your head lightly and you nodded, words getting caught in your throat. He left quietly, walking away as quickly as he could to avoid hearing the soft sobs that erupted as soon as he closed the door.
--
You could barely contain your tears until you got to your room, repeating rule thirteen over and over in your head, crying in public is only appropriate at funerals and weddings. But as soon as Fenrys left your room you sobbed into your hands, wailing, and crying like a child throwing a tantrum as you let out the emotions, the screams that have been locked inside of you for so long.
You had done everything for Dorian, changed every part of yourself and become the perfect princess, girlfriend, fiancé – and he, mere weeks after you had to run, was already moving onto a new girl.
As hard as you tried you couldn’t get rid of the image of him and the blonde girl out of your head. How he kissed her softly, his hand on her lower back where it always used to rest on yours. The smile when he pulled away, the way he laughed with her, the way Chaol smiled at his brother when he was happy. You had been forgotten, replaced, almost instantly, the warmth you used to feel when you thought of home, of your princes’ arms replaced by a tight chest and a cold feeling encompassing your heart.
“I’m sorry Albert,” you whispered into the air as you stood looking out on your balcony, gripping tightly to the rail as you feared your legs would give out, “She already took it.”
You were interrupted by a quiet knock on your door, wiping your eyes as you opened it – taking Amaris from the tall guards’ hands as a flurry of women pushed in, filling your drawers with clothes and cosmetics, candles and hair pins, books and plants, a million supplies for Amaris and then some. You smiled politely at them as they left without saying a word, in and out extremely quickly as you stared at a knot in the floor.
Another knock sounded soon after and you turned your head to see one of the Cadre staring in with piercing green eyes. You motioned for him to come in and stood, tilting your head up to meet his gaze as he took in your messy, tear-stained expression.
“You’re the first female member of the Cadre, ever.” He stated and you blinked slowly.
“Lucky me,” your tone was sarcastic, voice rough from the crying but the man smiled.
“I’m Rowan, it’s good to meet you.” He reached out a hand and you met it, allowing him to kiss the back gently.
“(Y/n)” you returned, with a slight curtsey.
“I look forward to fighting with you (y/n),” he stated, releasing your hand and turning to leave, stopping right before he reached the door, “Oh, and don’t lose that dagger, you’ll find a shocking number of men dislike powerful women.”
“First I’m hearing of this,” you deadpanned, and he chuckled.
“Goodluck kid.”
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shreddedparchment · 4 years
Text
Pseudo Princess Pt.33
His Heir
07/07/2020
Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 5,876
Warnings: angst, childbirth, blood
A/N: I don’t really have anything to preface this with except to say that I saw this chapter very clearly in my head a few chapters back and it was fun getting it all tie up here. As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo
Please REBLOG only. No reposting on any other sites.
Tag list is CLOSED!
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It all passes in a flash. Like a dream in quick snippets as your heart pounds with the stressful images that fill your mind.
There’s fear. It clouds your mind and paints the images with a looming midnight that seems to stretch on for ages.
The images are hazy. They’re gone before you can really focus but you see them, and your mind manages to make sense of them.
A heavy sword that makes your arms ache as you lift it to block a blow. An aching in your lower body as you stutter in a hallway, too scared to stop but in too much pain to carry on.
Your hair nearly pulled from your scalp. Gushing blood that coats your hands. A terrible blow against your cheek that sends you spilling to the floor.
The images shift but the fear is just as terrible. Grandmother’s aged white hair is a mess, strands falling out of the carefully gathered curls atop her head. Her skin is sticky, sweat dripping down along her temples and the heavy creases around her eyes as she fusses by your feet, your legs spread as Sharon paces behind her nervously, chewing on her thumbnail.
Your breathing is heavy, pained moans escaping your lips as you sit up and push with all your might.
“You’re doing wonderful, Y/N.” You follow the voice and meet storm blue eyes. Familiar. Loving.
Steve your brain provides.
The image shifts again and you’re flat on your back, shaking your head, body coated in sweat.
“I can’t…” You sob, voice weak. You’re clearly exhausted. “I can’t…”
“Yes, you can.” Steve’s voice is right by your ear. His hand clinging to yours as he pulls it to his lips and kisses it. “I have never known anyone with your strength, my flower. You can do this.”
Steve slides behind you, helping you sit up once again, holding your hands to give you something to hold onto.
You can feel the soft texture of his white puffed sleeve shirt. Despite the smudges of dust and blood on parts of his neck and arms, the subtle smell of pine and mint and something else that is only his and no one else’s fills your senses for one strengthening moment.
This King of men, believes in you.
He leans down to place his lips beside your ear. “I’m sorry that I can only hurt you. I’m so sorry but you must push, my petal.”
His quiet urging fills your chest with warmth but the pain snuffs it out almost as quickly as it appears. You obey him and groan as you push and your body nearly feels as if it’s being torn apart.
The images in your mind shift again and grandmother rushes away from you, holding something in her arms. She stops by a water basin, her back to you so that you cannot see.
“Steve…” You whisper weakly. “Where is he?”
“Agatha?” Steve asks, voice guarded as he helps you lay back down but you keep your body up as you strain to see Grandmother.
It’s so quiet…it stretches on forever, this moment of silence where you heart is in your throat and you exhaustion threatens to consume you.
“Steve…” You begin again, voice only just above a whisper. “Where is he?”
The images flash through your mind once again, so quick that it’s a blur and as a terrible fear floods your heart with that last image that seems to replay itself over and over, you gasp.
“Steve!” You cry out, still mostly asleep as the nightmare lingers.
“Here.” His voice comes from your right where you find him sitting in front of a dwindling fire. The cinders barely glowing with light.
Candles in their black metal braziers lining the walls every now and then fill the room with a soft yellow glow.
He rises slowly, his gaze drawn down to his chest and for one confusing moment you wonder what he’s looking at until he turns, and you hear the smallest whimper float out from his careful embrace.
You push yourself up eagerly, your heart suddenly racing as a happier memory of sweet relief fills your mind of a clear and lively crying. Newborn. Quivering little voice struggling with his first breath. A silence broken with the promise of a happy future.
“We’re right here.” Steve smiles, moving to sit beside you as you strain your neck to see your little one. “We’ve been waiting for you to wake.”
You sigh, your heart truly soaring as your eyes devour the little bundle all soft silky skin. Steve’s tone. Hair a little darker than his blonde but still on the lighter side. The lips are yours. Everything else seems to scream Steve.
“Do you want to hold her?” Steve asks, adjusting your daughter as you shift back so that your back rests against the headboard of your bed. Your new bed. One that you’d seen what feels like an age ago and you’d sworn never to sleep here. Ever.
But the sheets are a silver blue and the décor is a pastel yellow, silver blue peonies embroidered into cushions and blankets and curtains. Dark wood compliments the lighter colors and although this room is the room where you’d found Steve sleeping with another woman in his arms, it’s not the same room anymore.
This is so very much your room and though your mind is flooded with fuzzy memories of sleeping in here for what must have been days it feels new and foreign.
Steve holds her out for you. You take her carefully, this tiny little angel with her quiet coos as she settles into the shape of your arms. While you know that you must have been in this room for some time, this is most definitely the first time you’re holding your daughter.
Tears pour from your eyes and Steve reaches over to wipe them away. His hands, arms, and face now clean of blood and dirt.
A million questions fly through your mind. Instead of asking them, you ponder over the little one in your arms with her hay colored hair and rosy pink lips.
“I’m sorry, Steve.” You whisper, voice hoarse.
“Why my petal?” He scoots closer, hooking his hands around your waist as you continue to adjust yourself up some more.
“I-She’s a girl.” You shake your head, wondering how terrible his disappointment must be.
“What of it?” He brings his hand to your chin and tilts your gaze away from your daughter to his own quizzical storm blue eyes.
“You needed an heir.” You explain.
“And an heir I have. She will make a wonderful Queen. A strong Queen. Just like her mother.” Steve smiles, and there is truth in his words. You can’t find the trace of a lie in his declaration.
“You mean…you’ll accept her as your true heir?” You’re almost breathless with relief.
“Y/N, Broklin has never discriminated against the heir of the throne. The first born will always rule whether they are man or woman. Our daughter is first born, she will be queen, and the kingdom is safe. Not only is Pierce dead, but you’ve given birth to the first royal child since I was born. You should see the people. They have not stopped celebrating since we arrived with the news that our daughter has finally arrived.” Steve smiles, wiping the last few tears that roll across your cheeks.
“They’re really happy?” You smile, waiting for him to confirm it.
“Yes. They’re ecstatic and cannot wait to meet her when she’s older.” Steve caresses the back of your head before reaching down to stroke the Princess’s cheek. “Now that you’re awake, we’ll need to have those with title for a feast to meet her.”
“Do we have to?” You wonder, looking down at the beauty in your arms. She’s fast asleep, oblivious to you or Steve but she looks comfortable, swaddled in a luxuriously soft yellow blanket. Underneath you can see the long white dress of a newborn, a small bow tied just underneath her chin to keep it closed.
“Do you not feel well?” Steve wonders, caressing your head with a bit more force as he tries to catch your eye. “You’ve woken up a few times since we got back but this is the first time you’ve even asked about the baby.”
You meet his concerned gaze, surprised by this as you have no memory of waking up. “I…I feel fine. I’m just not eager to share her yet.”
Your confession deflates his worry and he settles in beside you, urging you closer with a simple flex of his arm. You adjust into the circle he provides and the three of you relax against the pile of pillows behind you.
“I understand the impulse. Unfortunately, we must present her. It’s tradition and it will give the people something to hold onto. If someone has seen her, then no one can dispute her validity as heir to the throne. The political sides of the crown are inescapable, my flower.” He sounds sorry about it too, but you understand why it’s necessary.
“Can we rest for a bit longer? Two days?” You look up at him, watching him watch your little girl. His eyes are full of love and admiration, deeper than you’ve ever seen on any man’s face.
He loves her so much and you are so grateful that he’s as good a man as you always thought he was.
“Take a week.” Steve relents. “You have a lot of bonding to make up with her, or so Grandmother tells me. I am not to take her from you again unless you ask me to. She was adamant.”
“Where is Grandmother?” You wonder, worried about the old woman after the sight of her in your memories.
“She’s in her cottage, resting. Ordered by her King.” Steve meets your eyes. “Don’t worry, she’s alright. She’ll no doubt show up again today as she has every day.”
“How long have I been sleeping?”
“Four days.” Steve sighs, wrapping you up a little tighter. You realize now that he’s been terrified. Worried out of his mind for you while you’ve been sleeping.
You know better than to focus on that however, and instead you look at your baby. “I’ve missed four days with her?”
“Don’t worry, my petal. I explained to her that you fought hard to keep her safe and you were only tired and resting so that when you woke, you could give her all the love that she deserves.” He smiles, reaching down with his free right hand to trace the shape of her nose.
“You haven’t left her side?” You check, though you know the answer as you watch her little face twitch at his touch.
“Never.” Steve assures you. “I will never leave her side.”
With a sigh you lean into his embrace, settling your head in the spot underneath his chin as he also relaxes, both of you watching your princess.
It fells like you and Steve sit in bed watching your daughter sleep for ages. You almost think he’s asleep until his lips press against your temple and you quickly turn to look up at him, lips puckered.
He smiles at you, pouring affection, before meeting your lips with a soft kiss.
There’s so much both of you need or perhaps it’s want to say, but instead you each pour it all into one long peck before you tear your eyes away from him to look back at your daughter. You can’t seem to get enough of watching her.
“I’ve been eager for you to wake for more than one reason. Before we can meet with the Lords of the kingdom, we have to name our princess.” Steve whispers.
“You haven’t picked one?” You ask, tilting your head as you consider the little life within your arms. What kind of woman do you hope she becomes? Her own woman. Her own person.
“I wanted to wait for you. We should do it together, though if I’m honest, I could not think of anything while you slept. How does one choose a name?” Steve wonders.
“It’s true, her name will follow her for life. It should represent who we hope she’ll become while also giving her the grace to shape that name into who she wants to be.” You rationalize as you continue to watch her, head cocked to one side.
If you’re honest, you’ve already chosen a name. It grows louder and more pronounced in your head the longer you sit there with her in your arms. The first two years of your marriage have been rocked with one trauma after the other. So much violence and uncertainty but also love once Steve came around. And even before he embraced you, Nat was always there with kind words and safety.
The name is one that you swore to forget. To purge from your life for all the pain it has caused you and yet, as you watch your daughter, it’s the only name you can think of. The only name that feels right.
“I want to call her Margaret.” You say. Voice even and thoughtful as you reach down to trace her cheek. She stirs but then settles quickly as you shush her and bounce her slowly.
“Why?” Steve sounds confused, but you don’t dare look at him. Your insecurity is still there, deep down within your heart where you will always hear him comparing you to his dearly departed first wife. You also know that he will never stop trying to make it up to you.
“Because she was important to you. Because you loved her, and she was strong and brave and because I want to love her too. Despite the negative affects her lingering presence had on our marriage when it began, she also helped us grow into who we are now. As a pair, you and I would not have been as strong, I don’t think, if Margaret hadn’t been there to divide us in the beginning.” You turn to look at him now, because you want him to know that you aren’t holding it against him.
“I want our daughter to grow up to be just as powerful as Margaret was. I want her to command someone’s heart the way Margaret commanded yours for so long. I also really need to stop hating her name simply because you spoke it often when I wished it were my name spilling from your lips.”
A terrible ache echoes within you as you remember Steve calling Maggie’s name while he slept with you. The memory is faded but so powerful to the way you developed in the castle that it will never go away.
“We don’t have to name her Margaret, Y/N. We can name her after your mother, or Natasha? She’d love that.”
“Steve…” You begin and he knows he won’t talk you out of it. “Do you hate it?”
“No, I-” Steve’s voice is suddenly thick. “-I just don’t want you to think that I wish in any way that this were me and Maggie. It’s only you for me. No one else, not even Maggie, can compare to how much you mean to me…well…”
Both of you look down at Margaret within your arms and both of you laugh.
“…Maybe this little Maggie might compare.” Steve relents. “But you’re my only love, never doubt it.”
You meet his eyes again and with a smile on your lips, kiss him again and again. You don’t stop until Margaret begins to stir and you know that she’s hungry.
Steve begins to rise, “I’ll get the wet nurse.”
“No!” You protest, grabbing his arm to pull him back down beside you. “No, I’ll feed her.”
You quickly reach down to expose your breast and adjust your princess until she’s positioned and gasp at how quickly she latches onto you.
Steve rushes to the dying embers of the fire and quickly stokes it, adding more wood so that the fire will build quickly. He moves back to you, fussing with a blanket as he wraps it around both you and Maggie so that you’re warm and comfortable.
You let him help, all smiles and careful watching of your girl. Finally, things feel just as they should.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Natasha and Bucky will be back tomorrow.” Steve crosses to you with a tray full of food, his hands steady.
Gracefully he lowers himself down onto the bed beside you as you watch Maggie sleep in her small cradle. Though small it is, simple it is not. It’s made of the finest irons and woods, embellished with shining pearls and velvety yellow fabric. The cushion within is plush, the rest of it lined in soft padding to keep her safe.
“I could sell this cradle and feed a village for half a year.” You frown, feeling a little guilty in the extravagance.
“Then when she’s outgrown it, we will sell it and do just that.” Steve places the tray of food on your lap and adjusts the pillow behind your back.
“Really?” You ask, hopeful.
“Of course. If that’s what you want to do. We could also keep it, as a keepsake. She may not use it again, but we will always remember her at this size if we save it. She may want to use it when she has her own children.”
You frown, hating the way his words make sense. Steve laughs but kisses your cheek before handing you a fork.
“Eat, my petal. You need to be strong for her.” He’s right about that, so you eat, stealing long looks at the baby in her bed.
“They didn’t have to come back so soon.” You feel guilty about Bucky and Natasha’s rushed return.
Steve had sent word to them that you’d woken up three days ago and they’d written back that they’d be home soon, but their letter arrived just before they would.
“They should enjoy their time alone together.” You lament.
“I’m sure they’ve made up for lost time.” Steve says with a smirk and you hit his gut knowing right where his mind has gone.
“They have every right to be eager. They’ve both wanted each other for so long. I don’t know how they could restrain themselves, to be honest.” You admit, cheeks flooding with heat as you give Steve a quick once over before going back to the breads and meats on your plate. “We should do something for them.”
“I already have.” Steve gets up and sits at a smaller desk that he’s had moved into his room so that he can be around you and Maggie as much as he wants while still dealing with Kingdom business. “I’ve given them a cottage up in the hills. It needs work, but Natasha and Bucky have asked me to hold off on orders for the renovation. I’m sure they’d like to decorate their home in their own style.”
“By cottage, do you mean a like Empire Cottage? Or like my home in Bright Rise?” You tease.
Steve huffs a laugh at your sass but continues to write busily while also keeping track of your conversation.
“Something in between. It’s much smaller than my mother’s cottage, but much larger than your small home. Should I pay to have that one renovated for you?” Steve wonders, the scratch of his quill coming a stop as he looks over at you while you chew in confusion.
“Why would we renovate my hut in Bright Rise?” You wonder.
Steve shrugs, setting his quill down as he leans back against his seat.
“I know that you have many unsavory memories there, but the village is quaint, and the scenery is lovely. If our daughter should ever want to know where her mother grew up, it might be nice to have a place we can all go should we decide to stay.” Steve smiles at you.
You lick your lips, swallow hard, and try to keep the sadness from showing on your face too much.
“Steve, I do not own that land. The house…was abandoned. I moved in there because nobody cared about it or me. The land still technically belongs to the person who left it there. It’s not mine to truly claim or to make a home. It was the shelter I needed-we needed at that time, but it was never my home. Not like here.” You explain.
Steve’s eyes sparkle mischievously before he nods. “Alright, we won’t renovate that hut.”
Despite his words, you know that he’s planning something. You recognize that glint in his eyes but don’t press the matter. You’d like to spend these moments with him in peace for as long as you can. Eventually you know that you’ll need to start speaking up, but just for now while your little one sleeps and your breakfast is tasty and the morning is so quiet, you want to cherish it.
As he leans over to resume his writing, there’s a knock on the door that puckers his brow. “Who could that be?”
Grandmother had already come to make her daily visit and Natasha and Bucky are not due until tomorrow…
Steve is up, pulling the door open just a crack as he peeks. Suddenly his back relaxes—or do his shoulders slump?—and with a sigh he looks at you and rolls his eyes.
“It’s for you.” He says, voice flat and full of annoyance.
As you chew the last of your toast, your curiosity is quenched as Thor’s smiling face pokes through the door.
“Little Bird!” He greets then lumbers through the door.
He’s a vision in a comfortable looking red tunic that fastens with golden buttons all the way up the high neck. Under that he wears a soft white shirt, long puffed sleeves carefully folded up to his elbows exposing thick veiny forearms with what looks like very fine golden hair. The blonde on his head is freshly washed, braided on one side and his cheeks are flushed with pink.
He’s already been digging into the ale.
“Are you seriously here to see me while you’re drunk?!” You demand, extremely happy to see him despite his state of inebriation.
“What?” He gasps, stopping at the foot of your bed. “I would never do you the dishonor of coming to see you in a drunken state.”
You squint at him and see that he’s not really drunk. There’s definitely alcohol in his system but it hasn’t impaired him.
Your lips break into a wide smile and Thor rumbles a laugh, pushing Steve aside as he hurries to sit beside you and pull you into an awkward hug over your empty tray of food.
He frowns, looking down at the obstacle and quickly grabs it then thrusts it into Steve’s chest as he walks by to move back to his desk.
“Get rid of this will you?” Thor orders, then settles in beside you more comfortably and pulls you into a rib cracking hug.
Steve glares at the tray then protests loudly when Thor hugs you.
“Thor! Be gentle! She’s still recovering from her attack and giving birth.” Steve gripes, moving to his desk where he drops the tray a little too loudly.
There’s a whimper from the cradle to your left and you quickly pull from Thor’s arms to take your little one from her bed and into your own supportive embrace.
She begins to coo and nearly begins to cry but as you settle back into Thor’s waiting arm, you reach up and trace the curve of her little nose from the tippy top all the way to the bottom.
She settles quickly, little hiccups of her breath escaping her rosebud lips as her eyes shut once more. She continues to breathe like that, a small wheeze of baby noise floating up to enchant all three of you as she sleeps.
“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Steve worries, moving closer to look her over.
You’re already shaking your head. “No. She’s alright. Just startled.”
Steve bites his lip. “I’m sorry my Maggie.”
Your heart goes into arrest and then you remember that it’s your little Maggie too that he means, and you feel relief calm your nerves.
“Maggie?” Thor asks, looking from you to Steve and then to the baby. “You didn’t seriously name her Margaret, did you?”
The anger in Thor’s voice is frightening and the air is suddenly filled with that same charge from his lightning.
“I chose it.” You say quickly, reaching over to place your hand over his.
He flips it over and takes yours, holding it back while he gives it a little squeeze.
“I wanted to name her Margaret. I couldn’t think of any other name that fit.” You explain. “She was important to more than just Steve, Thor. And she was strong and capable. I want our little Maggie to also be everything that Margaret was.”
Thor accepts your explanation, but he purses his lips for a second as he looks down at your beautiful Princess.
“Perhaps a little sweeter? A little gentler?” He suggests.
You almost speak, but Steve beats you to it. “Just like her mother. She’s perfection, Thor. Isn’t she gorgeous?”
All of you are watching her, eyes full of hearts for your little girl. In unison, smiles spread across your lips.
“She is indeed.” Thor agrees, then gives you a squeeze. “Congratulation, Little Bird. You’ve done a swell job.”
You smile wide as you meet his eyes. “I couldn’t have done it without Steve. He was there with me from beginning to end.”
“Not the very beginning.” Steve laments, moving closer to the two of you before stopping to caress the back of your head.
“You were there when it mattered.” You assure him.
“You did have us quite worried.” Thor tells you, frowning as he tears his eyes from your daughter to look at you. “How do you feel?”
“I’m tired.” You admit, feeling exhausted for reasons you don’t understand. “But otherwise, I’m alright.”
“I’m glad Lady Carter was there to help you.” Thor admits.
“Me too.” You nod. “Is she still here, Steve?”
“She is.” He moves back to his desk and settles in for more work. “She’s been waiting for you to feel better. She’d like an audience with you.”
“What?” You gasp, holding your baby closer. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? She’s been waiting a whole week?”
“There’s no rush.” Steve looks downright confused with your reaction and blinks as he tries to understand it.
“Send her in, Steve.”
Thor begins to rise. “I’ll come back later. To see you and the little one. I’m off to Malibia.”
“Why?” You fuss, reaching to take his hand as he stands.
“You’ve got a very stubborn sister who demands to come see you and the Princess or she will cut off her hair and dance naked for all the guard to see. Or that’s what Tony has said she has threatened to do.” Thor chuckles. “I should get her here before she makes good on her word. Tony doesn’t think she will, but Pepper promises that Morgana will not hesitate.”
You’re laughing too by the time he finishes. “I don’t doubt it. Hurry back, Thor. I’ve missed you.”
He leans down to kiss the back of your hand and then gives Steve a quick friendly nod—Steve returns it though there s a small bit of ice in his eyes at that kiss to your hand—before sweeping from the room as quickly as he descended upon it.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Sharon?” You gripe, turning your head to look at Steve who looks thoughtful.
“I didn’t want you getting upset.” He admits. “I want you happy and healthy with our baby, marching through the castle making all of the guard swoon with both your beauty.”
“Steve-” You begin only to stop as the door is knocked on a second time.
“That’ll be Sam.” Steve informs you. “Come in, Sam.”
Sure enough, Sam moves through the doors, stopping with his hand still on the handle.
“I can’t wait until Barnes is back so that I can get back to my real work and stop operating as your personal doorman.” Sam teases.
“He’s married now. You’ll have to take over.” Steve says, returning the playful tone. “Is Sharon free?”
Sam glances at you nervously then back at his King. “Yes, she is. Why?”
“Send her in, Samuel.” Steve orders, putting an end to whatever questions Sam has but isn’t asking.
“Have you seen our Maggie, Sam?” You ask, wondering if Steve has told all of your friends to stay away while you recover.
Sam’s eyes sparkle in excitement but then dull as he hesitates when you speak her name.
“M-Maggie?” Sam asks, edging his way towards you.
“We’ve named her Margaret.” You explain. “I wanted to honor her in some way.”
“Hm.” Sam says, but turns his eyes on your daughter. “She’s as cute as a baby bunny.”
You smile and nod. “Can I count on you, Sam? To protect those most precious to me?”
The request is random, and you know that this freezes both Sam and Steve as they digest the words you’ve spoken.
“I haven’t made many decrees as Queen of Broklin, but you are a man with unparalleled skills. Peter will always be here to protect me and by extension, Maggie but I need someone who will only think of her. I need someone who will drop everything and put her life before everyone else’s. Even Steve and I.” You clarify.
“Can you do it, Sam? Can you be her protector? Her guardian angel?” You ask, watching his guarded expression as it softens and then settles on your little one again.
“Of course, I will.” He reaches down to stroke her cheek. She doesn’t stir. “I will defend her, with my life.”
You and Steve exchange a look of relief before you relax again, adjusting Maggie a little closer to your chest.
She coos but continues to sleep.
“Sam?” Steve says, “Please send Sharon in for her Majesty.”
Sam gives you a bow then goes to fetch Sharon who actually doesn’t take long to arrive. You’d be lying if you said your nerves weren’t on edge as the knock finally comes. Steve clears his throat and looks to meet your gaze.
“Shall I leave you two?” He wonders, giving you the option of facing Sharon alone.
“I have nothing to say to her that you can’t hear.” You assure him.
“Come in, Sharon.” Steve calls.
With your little girl in your arms, you have all the strength to face the woman who saved your life. Still, with your belly still there along with your exhaustion, you can’t help but feel a little jealous of the sleek black dress that she’s wearing, raven feathers along the shoulders to accentuate the curve of her neck. Her blonde hair is pulled back a little, black pearl clasps holding it in place.
Her cheeks are flush with a nervous blush, her eyes wide and searching. She finds Steve first and smiles brightly at the sight of him.
“Steve…” She begins, moving in further until finally she scans the bed and finds you sitting up, tense. Maggie fast asleep. “Your Majesty.”
The sudden frenzy in her eyes makes you feel slightly guilty.
“Hello, Lady Carter.” You offer a smile.
“Oh, please, call me Sharon.” She looks chastised though you haven’t said anything to indicate any displeasure with her.
“Sharon…” You begin, taking a deep breath before sparing Steve a glance. He’s so polite however, that you find him staring intently at his paperwork, his quill propped to write but it isn’t moving. He’s listening hard, trying not to look. “Come closer.”
You tap the right side of your bed and watch her until she’s sitting beside you, her eyes glue to Maggie.
Rather than introduce her right away, you want to say what you need to before you let the pleasantries really flow.
With her right beside you, you feel a sense of calm overcome you and you lean back against the headboard to relax.
“Are you alright?” She worries, probably seeing how tired you are.
“I’m a little tired. The past week hasn’t been the easiest for me.” You smile. “Sharon, I feel I need to thank you.”
“Oh, no. Your Majesty-”
“Please,” You sigh. “Let me finish.”
She shuts her lips, pressing them into a straight line to force herself quiet.
“You and I didn’t exactly start off on the right foot.” You acknowledge.
And despite your desires for her to stop speaking, “Your Majesty, I should apologize. I had no right invading the sanctity of your marriage. Really, I’m very sorry to you both.”
“Sharon…” You try again.
“Right, sorry.” She bites her lip.
“All I want to say is that I am so thankful for your presence at my father’s castle. If it had not been for you, we would not be here. You saved my daughter’s life, if there is anything that you want or need, I will do all that I can to ensure that you have it.” You promise, then look to Steve who is now watching both of you intently. “Well, anything except for my husband.”
Your teasing makes her smile and you laugh with her when she chuckles.
“Truly.” You try again. “Thank you. I can never repay you for what you’ve given me.”
Sharon can only smile.
In your arms, Maggie stirs and her little eyes open. She almost seems to be in a daze, her eyes moving but unfocused. She shuts them again but makes more noise.
“Well, hello there, my Princess.” You greet her, and she coos in return her eyes open once more as she searches for you.
“She’s beautiful, your Majesties. She looks like you, Steve.” Sharon admires. “Have you chosen a name?”
“We have.” You nod, looking to Steve who smiles with only half of his mouth. It’s a sheepish grin, proud and happy. “We named her Margaret.”
Sharon’s face is robbed of all expression as she tears her eyes from your daughter to you, Steve, and then back to the little one in your arms.
“You named her after Maggie?” She asks, voice weak and quiet with emotion.
“Considering the fight she was born in, I thought it was appropriate to name her after another strong warrior.” You boast.
Another knock on your door steals the focus from your baby as Sam re-enters the room in a hurry.
“Sam?” Steve checks.
Sam moves to him and hands him a scroll, seal already broken but says nothing.
Suddenly wary, you and Sharon both watch the two men as Steve reads for only a few moments before he’s up out of his seat and flying from the room with Sam hot on his heels.
“Steve?” You call after him, a deep worry settling into the base of your stomach.
“Don’t worry.” Sharon offers. “Steve’s dramatic. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
As much as you wish you could believe her, you know very well that Sharon is only trying to appease you and that something must be very wrong.
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the-girl-in-the-box · 3 years
Text
Not Today XXII
A/N: So, this chapter will Definitely be getting a post, because I have a lot I really want to talk about with what happens at the end. I really REALLY enjoyed writing it, and also I have stuff I want to talk about with how I opened this chapter. However, so I don't spoil it, that will be its own post on my tumblr, and I will likely link it in the next update's A/N! Until then, I hope you enjoy reading tonight's update as much as I enjoyed writing it! Skål!
Summary:  When Ivar takes the throne of Kattegat, Lagertha flees to Wessex along with Björn, Ubbe, Torvi, and the Bishop Heahmund. There, they seek the aid of King Alfred. This aid comes in the form of his sister, Aethelind, who agrees to travel to Kattegat and try to reason Ivar, who she spent some time with during their youth, when her grandfather King Ecbert hosted Ragnar Lothbrok in their castle. Now, she is the only hope for Lagertha and her supporters to retake Kattegat from Ivar the Boneless.
Masterlist
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Something was coming. Something massive, something nervewracking, something dangerous. It rumbled in the ground, woke the camp, including Ivar and the Shieldmaiden who laid at his side. They sat up, looked around with concern in their eyes, and when Ivar’s eyes met hers, he nodded. Trouble was coming.
She hopped up and grabbed her sword from where it laid beside her, attached it to her hip, and then quickly got Ivar up and into his cart, drawing the curtains. If they were to be under attack, she didn’t want him being found and hurt. Though, as was expected of him, he tried to insist he could fight.
“We can handle this,” she argued. “Sit tight, stay quiet. We won’t let them hurt you.”
Ivar eventually nodded, and she let out a deep breath.
Once he was hidden, she turned and pulled her sword, a prayer for safety and survival, for herself and her companion, on her lips.
None of the mercenaries expected an army of men on horseback to come cantering down the path, and neither did she or Ivar. It wasn’t an overly long battle, with a majority of the mercenaries falling as soon as the army approached. Only one of the mercenaries, an old man with only one eye, survived, along with the Shieldmaiden herself. Or, the Prophet, as the mercenaries had taken to calling her.
She scoffed and rolled her eyes when she saw the way the man gave up fighting easily, clearly offering his help to the leader of this army. The fighting had stopped now, but she refused to let up the soldier she had on his knees, her sword at his neck.
The army’s leader noticed the seat Ivar was in, the way the curtains were drawn, and gestured for one of his men to check it out. Her heart pounding, the Shieldmaiden moved to intercept him, but this proved to be a mistake. The officer she’d taken down snatched his sword out of the snow and jumped up just as a knife came flying from between the curtains, landing in the approaching soldier’s eye, and he ran it through her shoulder.
She cried out in pain, catching Ivar’s attention long enough to distract him. This gave the nearest soldier time to pull him from his seat, and throw him to the ground. Seeing him lying there like that, at the mercy of these men, sent a shock of panic through the wounded woman’s heart, and against all better judgement, she tried to fight to get to him.
But, she was weakened from the injury she had sustained, and it didn’t take much for a soldier to hit her in the head with the end of his sword and disorient her, disarming her and throwing her down at Ivar’s side.
He turned and tried to stabilize her, not relenting until her eyes focused on his face. “Are you with me?” he questioned, and though she nodded, he didn’t accept that answer. “Speak,” he said. “Are you with me?”
“I’m with you,” she managed, and groaned in pain as she tried to situate herself better.
Neither of them had been paying attention to the One-Eyed Man speaking to the leader of the attackers in some language neither could understand, not until one word stood out they did know. Or, rather, one name: Ivar.
The Shieldmaiden was the first to look, hearing her King’s name mentioned, but she could make nothing else out, nothing else which might have helped. The leader soon began to laugh as he looked back to Ivar, and her eyes narrowed. He turned and said something to the One-Eyed Man, and Ivar hauled himself up into a sitting position, moving to ensure his Prophet rested back against him, to take some pressure from her wounded shoulder.
“What is he saying?” he asked the One-Eyed Man then. The man didn’t answer, only conversing briefly more before the leader threw a coin to him, having mounted onto a horse. “Who are these people?” Ivar tried again.
“Rus,” the One-Eyed Man now said, and grumbled, “Cheap bastards.
“It seems they don’t pay very well,” Ivar commented. “Where are they taking us?”
“To their capital,” the One-Eyed Man replied. “A place called Kiev.”
“Who is their ruler?”
“Prince Oleg, the Prophet.”
Ivar frowned sharply. Another prophet? He had given the wounded Shieldmaiden in his arms that title before they left Kattegat, and she had travelled under that epithet all the way along the Silk Road. Now, they found some Prince in Rus had claimed the title for himself as well? Ivar didn’t think this Prince would be half the prophet his was.
“The Prophet?” he questioned anyway. “Why the Prophet?” After all, he figured the more information they knew going into this place, the better.
The Rus commander, for they now knew him to be that, interrupted them by calling out to the pair, and both looked up at him from their place on the ground. One of the soldiers came and collected the Shieldmaiden, pulling her away from Ivar. She could only grunt as she was forced to her feet, and then a small cry left her. The soldier wasn’t being particularly gentle with her, which caused more blood than was needed to leak from the wound.
Ivar grimaced as the blood left a small trail through the pure white snow. The Rus commander spoke again to the One-Eyed Man, asked him a question, and the Commander laughed. A barked command to another soldier, and Ivar was carried off just as the Shieldmaiden was, tossed up unto a horse near her like a potato sack, and the soldier on that horse rode away. She was placed in front of a Rus soldier, who rode behind the one who carried Ivar. The two wished for nothing more than the chance to speak.
Fortunately, the journey to Kiev wasn’t an overly long one. The pair of Vikings- for truthfully, she had become one now- were dragged into the palace at the center of the city, led to its interior, and pushed into a room which seemed to be the throne room. A servant was currently hauling a body from the room, and the two were shoved to the ground, falling right into the puddle of blood there.
Ivar winced at the cry that left the injured woman at his side, and once he pushed himself up, managed to turn to check on her. Her face was pale, likely from the pain of the fall, and his eyes narrowed slightly. She needed medical attention.
It didn’t seem that was likely to come soon, as the Commander and the man who stood by the throne, who Ivar could only assume was Prince Oleg himself, were busy communicating in their own tongue. Ivar had to bite his to keep himself from demanding help for his Shieldmaiden.
The man finally turned, looked down at the two on the ground before him, and he smirked a little. Apparently, the Commander had given him some important information, because he spoke in Ivar’s language when he finally addressed them.
“You cannot walk,” he said. “Are you both wounded?” He could see from the way the woman held her hand to her shoulder, the way the blood seeped through it, that she was, but the way the man laughed so bitterly at his question, he assumed that was not the case.
“No,” Ivar answered. “I’m a cripple. From birth. But she needs assistance.”
The Rus man nodded and spoke again to the Commander, who ducked out of the room. “She will have it,” he told Ivar.
Satisfied, Ivar nodded, and commented, “You speak our language.”
“It was once the language of my people, too,” the man replied. “We are Rus Vikings.” He was silent for a moment, before asking, “What do they call you two?”
“My name is Ivar,” he said, taking off his hat now they were inside. “They call me Ivar the Boneless. And she is-”
“Asta.”
Ivar’s eyes widened as he heard the name he called her just the night before be claimed, and he looked to her with that shock registered on his face.
“I am Asta the Prophet.”
He’d never imagined that she had heard him, and he realized with a sickening sort of dread that she must have heard all of what he said before then. His mind was taken from that by a medic entering the room, beginning to work on her shoulder, and the look of hostility in her eyes when the man carelessly pulled the sleeve of her shirt down, exposing her shoulder and much of the surrounding skin to everyone in the room.
“I’ve heard of you,” the man Ivar assumed was Oleg said. “Ivar… the Boneless.” He pointed the axe in his hand at Ivar, then swung it toward the newly named Asta. “And his Prophet.” He chuckled, lowering the axe and moving to sit down. “Your fame has travelled along the Silk Road. Like honey, beeswax, furs, and slaves… But why do you travel along it now? Without announcing yourselves, like thieves… Hm?”
“I lost my kingdom,” Ivar said. “To my brothers. I am nothing, and I have nothing to offer you, Prince Oleg.” The lack of correction confirmed the man’s identity for them both. “It was not my intention to trouble you with our presence.”
“Then where were you going?” Oleg asked.
“Nowhere,” Ivar replied plainly. “We have no plans. We are simply fleeing the retribution of my brothers.”
“Well,” Oleg began after a few moments of silence. “You are here, now. Who knows if your presence will trouble me?” Ivar looked up at him slowly as he came down from the dais. “Let us see.”
When the medic was done with her, Ivar and the Shieldmaiden were both hauled out of the room, taken up further into the castle, and shoved into one of the bedchambers there. They remained in silence once Ivar situated himself at a window, and she began to pace. Clearly, the medic had helped her quite a bit.
After a while, Ivar found it eating at him just a bit too much, and so he looked up at her, watched her pace for a moment, and then asked, “Asta?”
She paused in her pacing and turned to look at him, just as if he had called the name he’d called so many times before that day. “Hm?” she prompted.
“Where did you hear that name?” he questioned.
“From you,” she said with a small chuckle. “Don’t know if you meant me to or not, but… I needed something that wasn’t my given name. I don’t know if my brother knows yet I’ve left Kattegat, but if that news has travelled the Silk Road, and they learned who I really was…? I can’t imagine the ransom letter would find Alfred very pleased.” Ivar gave a hum of satisfaction, seemingly agreeing with what she said. Until, that was, she added, “That, and I sort of like it, actually. Feels… right.”
“Feels right?” he repeated. “Do you mean to keep it, then?”
She clearly weighed something in her mind, almost seeming to be tossing something around, before she looked back to him with a small smile, and nodded. “Think I will,” she said. “At least for now, unless I decide it doesn’t fit me any longer.”
Ivar nodded, and tested the name out again now he knew it was going to be hers for the considerable future, and she smiled at hearing him say it.
“Sounds just as good as when I heard it last night,” she teased.
Asta walked over to the window he was sitting in, not quite noticing the way he watched her move across the room, certainly not noticing the slight darkening in his cheeks at her quip, and she sat across from him, settling in and getting comfortable as she watched the people move around Kiev’s markets.
“It suits you,” Ivar confessed, and she turned to him curiously.
“Does it?” she questioned. “What’s it mean, anyway?”
Ivar shrugged, looking back out the window. “Just an old Viking name,” he lied.
How could he tell her what it meant, that the name had slipped out as he realized just what she meant to him? The word ást, from which the name was derived, was used to describe love as a thing, as something real, as a place, or perhaps a person. It was used to describe the thing one saw love reflected in, and so for him to have used that name in speaking to her…
The Bishop Heahmund had once mentioned the different forms of love, and the one called agape. He had described it as something unconditional, the sort of love that apparently, the Christian God felt for humanity. Ivar, of course, had his own thoughts about what sort of gods looked over this world, but that term had come to his mind just before he had uttered the name Asta. If anyone deserved the name, he figured now, it was someone who had proven to him the existence of such love.
But Ivar was, if nothing else, a very stubborn man, and so he kept those thoughts locked tightly within himself, drawn only from them when he heard Asta sigh quietly. He turned his eyes to look at her once more.
“If I close my eyes, I can almost imagine it’s Kattegat,” she confessed softly. He gave a quiet hum in response.
“We should speak your language here, when we can.” Asta looked at him confusedly, wondering what exactly had brought this on. “They can speak mine,” he clarified. “Wessex is over halfway across the world from here. I doubt they understand the Saxon language. We don’t need them to understand every word we say.”
She nodded then. “Right,” she agreed. “We mean to escape, then?”
“Unless Oleg has anything to offer us, yes,” he answered. It felt strange to her, to hear him speak in the Saxon tongue again after so many months- almost a year, now- of having heard him speak in his own. It made her giggle a little.
“Yours is a little… unused,” she said, and he gave a good-natured roll of his eyes, before rolling his body over to crawl to the ground. “Where are you going?”
“To see how free we are around here,” he answered her. He crawled over to the door, and threw it open, only to be met by a Rus guard standing on the other side. Asta smirked amusedly at the way Ivar grinned at him, and then jumped back as the door was slammed shut in his face. “Prisoners, then,” he surmised, and nodded. “That is most unfortunate.”
Asta gave a soft laugh, and he crawled back over to her. “I could think of worse people to be imprisoned here with,” she quipped. He cracked a small grin at her.
“As could I,” he agreed. As he pulled himself back up to sit across from her, he teased, “Tell me, great Prophet Asta, what do you see for us here, hm?”
Asta couldn’t help but giggle at his question, and she angled her body more toward him. “We’re entering a time of healing,” she joked, gesturing toward her shoulder. “This is our time to take life a little slower, to experience new things, to…” She looked out the window once again, and grew thoughtful. “Perhaps to build a new life.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Ivar tilt his head a little, not quite understanding her meaning, so she explained. “We have a chance to just… live here,” she said. “If we earn Oleg’s trust, we could have a life here, you know? Once he releases us.” Her eyes turned back to Ivar now, a small smile on her lips. “Wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Maybe the rest of the world would miss us, if we just settled down here, but I’d be alright with that if it meant we could be happy. You know what I mean?”
Ivar couldn’t help the small smile that played at the corners of his lips as he watched the sort of far off look in her eye. He could guess that she was imagining a simpler life, one where maybe they were just… normal people, whatever that meant. “I’m starting to,” he confessed. “My father always said there was no purpose in trying to be happy. Life wasn’t about that.” She looked at him a little sadly, though the smile didn’t leave her lips. “But we have both suffered enough, I think, to let us consider a way we could be happy here.”
The sadness left her then, and she looked down into the market. “We’d have to make money, somehow,” she said. “Not sure what I could do to earn a living. Don’t see many shieldmaiden types down there.” Ivar hummed his agreement. “My mother taught me to paint. I could paint portraits, perhaps, sell those?”
“You know how to paint?” Ivar asked, now looking at her curiously. “I thought that tended to be left to your priests.”
Asta laughed and nodded. “It usually is,” she confirmed. “Illumination, that is. But my mother wanted to learn, just before Alfred took his pilgrimage to Rome. My grandfather had a monk brought from Paris, if you can believe it, to teach her. He was the only one who would.” Ivar chuckled a little as she did, watching how she shook her head in disbelief. “Rather than going through that struggle for me again, when I decided I wanted to learn, as Father Prudentius was the one who took Alfred and my father to Rome, she taught me.”
She decided to take a risk, then, knowing there was a solid chance this wouldn’t go over well with Ivar. But, there was a chance they could have a new life there in Rus, if they decided to work toward the little fantasy they were indulging in. If this was going to happen, she wanted Ivar to know the truth.
“She used to tell me about my father, then,” she said softly. Ivar felt the shift in her voice, the way it just barely shook with a quiet anxiety. He sensed a confession coming, and he was right. “Aethelwulf wasn’t my birth father. He was a father in all other meaning to me, just not by blood.” She took a deep breath, but before he could ask, she said, “My birth father was Athelstan, the monk your father took from Lindisfarne.”
His eyes widened at the revelation. Even if he hadn’t ever known the man that well, he knew the story, knew everything Floki had told him about the Christian Priest. “I think I must find myself in the same place he once did,” she continued, before Ivar had much time to question what he was learning. And truthfully, it was good that it happened this way. The more he learned at once, the less he would have time to second guess.
“I hold to my Christian convictions,” she said. “The things I was taught as I grew up, the things I came to understand through the many discussions I had with the Bishop Heahmund, who I know you once knew as well. But just as that is true, it is just as true that I feel most at home with your people, that my home is no longer in England. I can no longer offer my loyalty to a Saxon king, as I find I have become fiercely loyal to a Viking one instead.”
Every promise she had ever made to him went through his mind in that moment as she smiled at him again, if it were possible, and he found himself almost unable to make the Athelstan she spoke of, and the one Floki had spoken of, the same man in his mind, though he knew they must have been. “My mother told me my father loved your father more than anyone. Each time the choice was given to him, he chose your father, and your people, over his ancestral home. He even left her to return to Kattegat, and so… I never met him.”
“Do you think things would be very different, had you known him? That… perhaps you would not have come with me?” Ivar asked her. From the look on his face, it might have been obvious to some who knew him well that he was almost worried. It also might have been obvious he was trying to hide this. So, she gave a small shrug.
“I’ll never know,” she said. “Life didn’t work out in the right way for me to know. And truthfully?”
They locked eyes again as she said, “I’ve finally come to make peace with that, I think. I’ll never know him, not until I have also passed from this world, and I’m in no rush to do so. Before, when I was dissatisfied with my life, I used to wish with all I had that he’d not left for Kattegat so soon, that I could have known him before he returned to your father’s side there. I used to wonder if I could have convinced him to let me join him there. But now?”
Ivar found himself shocked again when she leaned forward and reached for his hand, letting her fingers wrap gently around his. It pulled him from all the thoughts and concerns the revelation about her lineage had brought, and made him focus on her. “I’m too happy with where I am to wish things were different in my past. Perhaps I would have met you sooner,” she said. “I would have still come with you. In fact, as many times as my father left to be with yours, it would have only encouraged me in the decision I made.” She chuckled a little, biting her lip as she looked up at him. “Of course, there is also the possibility that if I had grown up with my father in Kattegat, you may have hated me as the daughter of the Christian priest, and only because of how we met and how we have come to know each other, is there no hatred between us.”
Ást. That word entered his mind again as he saw her smiling at him, felt her hand in his. He knew she was joking, but yet, something made him bring her hand up to his lips and kiss the back of it. “Hatred can never take the place of love,” he said sincerely, and the way she lit up...
He would have conquered the Nine Realms if it meant seeing her smile so brightly again.
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jamaisjoons · 4 years
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bitten & knotted | jhs + knj
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⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: as different as night and day, your two lovers have many differences, after all, one is a vampire and the other is a werewolf. they have their similarities too, namely their supernaturally long life. something you don’t share. something they’re going to rectify tonight. supernatural au.
⟶ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: vampire!namjoon x princess!reader x werewolf!hoseok
⟶ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: fluff • smut • pwp (with more plot than was intended)
⟶ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 10k
⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: dom!namjoon, dom!hoseok, sub!reader, joon and hobi both have big cocks xxx, this is somehow tender and hard at the same time, threesome: mfm, dirty talk, slight body worship, light spanking, nipple play, pussy eating, fingering, face riding, cock sucking, deep throating, gagging/choking (on cock), cum eating, degradation, praise, unprotected, sloppy seconds, rough sex, manhandling, hoseok goes feral, slight mentions of blood, cum play, spitting, knotting, breeding, creampie eating, slight mxm, multiple orgasms, multiple creampies, biting/marking, 
⟶ 𝑎/𝑛: hello! welcome to the first fic of SPOOKY MONTH! y’all know i can’t disrespect my 94 kings and not have THIS au be the first spooky themed fic i posted hehehe anyway this was supposed to be pwp but i guESS IT HAS PLOT ??? very lITTLE but definitely more than it needed ahahaHAHAHAHA 
⇥ special thanks to my beta @slashgashbridesmaid for reading and editing this for me ♡
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Darkness fills the night, cloaking the sky in its cascading blanket of pitch black. Not a single star glimmers. Instead, thick grey clouds aimlessly float through the nighttime, obscuring the cold, distant light of the moon intermittently. You find yourself humming along the darkened corridors of your castle. Dense streams of moonlight filter through the long arched windows that line the fading brick walls - the heavy dark velvet curtains pulled to the side. Usually, mostly during day time, they were drawn shut in order to prevent rays of sunlight from penetrating the window.
Your castle was always dark and dreary during the day, lit up only by the weak flickering of candlelight. The walls of the castle haven’t seen sunlight for over two decades. Of course, they couldn’t. Not with the vampire love of your life who makes his home within these very walls. No, sunlight was deadly to him - and considering he tended to wander the castle during the day doing his usual duties of playing advisor to the kingdoms, the curtains have to remain drawn. You don’t mind so much - whenever you needed to bask in the sunlight, you would find yourself out in the palace gardens or roaming the forest with your werewolf lover keeping you company.
You can’t complain. No, not at all. You have the best of both worlds. During the days, you travel the forests that surround your home, Hoseok in his giant wolf form as he carries you on his back - and when he gets tired, you usually stop and let him rest in your lap as you bask in the sun, mindlessly playing with his hair - or fur if he stays in his shifted form. Then, during the nights, you find yourself walking hand in hand as you and Namjoon traverse the nearby meadows, enjoying the way the night blooms glistening flowers of white as moonbeams drip over them. Indeed, there’s not a single thing you could complain about.
When you get to your chamber doors, you stop abruptly at the unexpected sight. Namjoon nervously paces the length of the doorway while he chews on his fingers, muttering every now and then. Though, unlike your lovers, you are human - a facet of yourself they have yet to rectify so you can be with them for as long as they live - and cannot hear what he’s mumbling about. Hearing the pattering of your footsteps against the cold stone ground, Namjoon’s head snaps up.
“Fuck. You’re here,” Namjoon breathes out. Your brows knit together as you look at him in worry. You may not have their superhuman senses, but you still notice the way his hands tremble with anticipation - or maybe trepidation.
“Joonie? What’s going on?” you ask as you approach him. Namjoon lets out a heavy exhale before taking your hands within his and placing a soft kiss on each of the knuckles.
“You know I love you? That we love you?” Namjoon whispers, his voice hushed. His hands drop yours, instead, moving to rest on your hips. Tenderly, his thumb brushes against the silk of your dress, and you lowly hum.
“Of course, I love you too. You and Hoseok. Both. Equally. Forever,” you reply without hesitation. Then you pause before continuing, “what’s going on? You’re scaring me,” you say, looking up into his dark eyes. They glow in the moonlight, the bright crimson flecks mellowed by soft umber tones. They’re so completely different from the way his eyes looked when he had been human.
“Nothing’s wrong, love. We- we just decided tonight is the night,” Namjoon finally says. You freeze in his hold, your heart speeding up. It thunders in your chest, Namjoon swallowing thickly as he smells the blood rush through your veins. Immediately, you’re searching his eyes, looking for any inkling of dishonesty. You find none. They’re filled with nervousness, worry but more importantly, anticipation and certainty. He’s being serious. Your heart soars within your chest, and despite shaky hands, you throw yourself into his arms. Instantly, your lips find purchase on his.
Automatically, Namjoon’s arms circle your waist, and then he’s drawing you into his chest. You fall into his kiss, letting him guide your lips in a sensual dance filled with nothing but tender love. His lips are cold against yours. He’s always so cold - completely different from the practical furnace that is your werewolf. You sigh into his kiss before pulling away. You’re breathless, warm air fans his lips, yet he’s completely composed. You suppose it has more to do with the fact that he’s undead than unaffected. He smiles gently and brushes his nose against yours. Then, grabbing your hand, he slowly leads you inside.
The heavy wooden doors creak open, a sliver of soft amber light leaking through the crack before you’re flooded by its warmth. You let out a soft gasp at the sight that greets you. Hoseok is sitting on the edge of the large canopy bed that occupies the middle of the room. The soft amber glow of the low candlelight reflects off of his silken russet, wavy locks as he twiddles his thumbs nervously. The minute he hears the squeak of the door, however, his head instantly snaps up, and he lets out a heavy exhale. Abruptly, he stands to his feet. Darkened pools of golden brown stay transfixed onto your figure, Hoseok’s pupil’s dilating as Namjoon pulls you closer to him.
“Did… did Joon tell you?” Hoseok asks, unable to prevent the slight stutter of his words. His voice drips with a mix of anticipation and insecurity - completely unlike his usual confident tone. Biting your lip, you nod at him. Namjoon’s hand slips from yours as Hoseok reaches out to you. Large palms circle your waist before Hoseok pulls you into him. You gasp at the warm sensation of his heated palms - a juxtaposition to Namjoon’s chilled skin.
“What do you think?” Hoseok asks, his gaze momentarily flicking towards the vampire standing behind you. Their eyes lock, a silent conversation exchanging just through their eyes before you feel their gazes on you once again.
“Please. I want to be with you,” you plead. Hoseok sucks in a sharp breath at your words as he caresses your hips under his delicate touch. Namjoon steps closer to you until you’re sandwiched between their chests. The hairs on the back of your neck stand straight when you feel Namjoon move your hair to the side before cold lips brush against your warm skin. The tender attention they lavish on your body causes your eyes to slip shut under their ministrations, your chest warming with affection.
You’ve been dreaming of this day for as long as you can remember. The mortality of humanity wasn’t lost on you - you’d witnessed lots of death through the years. Your mother died when she’d given birth to you, her only child. Your father followed when you were merely eighteen, leaving you the last remaining heir to the throne. However, you weren’t left unprotected.
You’d met Namjoon and Hoseok when you were all children - the two boys chosen as guardians to you, the crown princess. Hoseok had been a bright-eyed pup back then, with darker, almost black, eyes and deep brown hair - completely different to the deep russet hair and golden brown eyes he possesses now: signs of his maturity into adulthood. Even Namjoon has changed over the years, you can’t help but muse to yourself. Born a vampire, not turned, Namjoon has aged with you and Hoseok. Though, when he reached twenty-one, he’d fully come into his vampiric powers and stopped ageing. You can still remember how frightened you’d been, the day after his 21st birthday, when you’d reached out to brush your lover’s hair out of his eyes, only to feel his cold skin.
The three of you have been lovers since you’d all turned eighteen. They’d helped you get over the death of your father, comforted you, and looked after you in the weeks you’d spent completely catatonic, mourning the loss of the only parent you’d ever known. If it weren’t for Hoseok and Namjoon, you were sure the kingdom would have fallen apart. They’d saved you - showed you there were still people who loved you - that they loved you. You loved them too. Still do - until your final days. Throughout your life, it was as if you gravitated to one another - how could you not? You spent all your time with them when you were growing up. They are all you know, all you had ever known, and all you would ever need to know.
Thus, the thought of leaving this world without them terrifies you. Hoseok’s wolf blood will keep him alive for hundreds of years to come, and Namjoon… well, Namjoon will live for roughly the same amount of time. Contrary to popular belief, vampires don’t live forever. While not dead, they aren’t alive either, instead encompassing the state of limbo between. However, the energy that keeps them living, the essence that grants them power eventually runs out too, and with that comes their death. Nothing is infinite after all.
You’re still only human. Your life isn’t as long or drawn out as theirs - your life essence will fade much quicker than theirs. That thought terrifies you. You want to be with them - for as long as you possibly can. So, you had urged Namjoon to turn you. Namjoon had completely refused at first. So, you’d asked Hoseok to bite you. Like Namjoon, however, he’d refused too. There was too much risk. The poison of a vampire’s kiss and the essence of a wolf’s bite were deadly. Most people didn’t make it through: the chances of someone turning were incredibly slim, and they’d both agreed they couldn’t bear to lose you - especially through their own actions.
So, you’d decided to take matters into your own end. At the very edge of your kingdom, nestled in the woods, lived a witch. A witch who, if rumours were to be believed, had lived millennia. A witch who knew things most wouldn’t - who had knowledge of even the most obscure of things. The kingdom trusted Min Yoongi - he’d supposedly lived a long time, looking after the royal bloodline - even if he did it from afar. You couldn’t exactly blame him for being a recluse; if you’d lived as long as he did, you too would probably live far from civilisation. However, the fact of the matter stood, Yoongi could be trusted, and if he had the information you were seeking, then you owed it to yourself and your lovers to find it.
So, one day, you’d snuck past the palace guards and Hoseok’s ever watchful eyes and found yourself wandering the woods and towards Yoongi’s little cottage. It had been a long arduous journey, the forest paths narrow and winding, and you’d feared getting lost without Hoseok’s expert nose and senses to guide you through the forest - but you had done it - and come out triumphant. There was a way. A way to be bonded to both Hoseok and Namjoon until the end of your time. A way to tie their life force to yours and ensure you live for as long as they do. It was rare, almost lost to the ages. A ritual forgotten by everyone. Except for Yoongi.
While not common, it wasn’t unusual for a vampire to choose a human mate or for a werewolf to imprint on one. What was rare, however, was for them to choose the same human. Rare - but not impossible. Lost to time was an ancient bonding ceremony that allowed both a vampire and a werewolf to claim the same mate. Armed with the knowledge, a vial of potion, and Yoongi’s promise that it would be fine, you’d approached them both. They’d been hesitant at first, even with Yoongi’s assurance, because despite its increased chance, the ritual wasn’t perfect. Things could still go wrong. They could still hurt you, and you could still die. Though, the chances were slim if they completed it properly. Finally, though, it seems that they are ready to go through with it.
“Please, I’m ready,” you affirm as you wrap your arms around Hoseok’s neck. Your fingers entangle in his long auburn locks, mindlessly playing with the sleek strands before you draw him closer to you. Heart-shaped lips are only a hair’s breadth apart from yours, and you shudder as his warm breath wafts over your skin. “Make me yours,” you continue, staring up into his honey brown eyes earnestly. A low growl resounds from Hoseok’s chest before he sinks his head lower.
You groan into his kiss, the soft pink flesh of his lips moulding into yours as he kisses you slowly. Namjoon, not one to be left out, wanders his hands up and down the sides of your torso while he feathers kisses along the back of your bare shoulder. Hoseok’s hand moves to hold your chin, lifting it up for easier access as he cups your jaw. Your lips move sensuously, Hoseok’s tongue jutting out to lick at the seam of them. Readily, you part them, allowing his tongue to push in between your teeth before it begins gliding across your own tongue in soft but firm twists.
Namjoon’s cold fingers dance along the nape of your neck before running down your back as he slowly unknots the silken straps that keep your dress tied to your body. With each inch of skin that he exposes to the air, he places a cold kiss against your skin - almost as if he’s revering your body. Once undone, his hands tenderly wander up your back and across your shoulders as he slips the dress off of your body. It falls to the floor in one motion, bunching around your feet in a pool of silk and leaving you completely bare.
“Ah-” you gasp, breaking away from Hoseok’s lips and throwing your head back when Namjoon’s cold palms meander around your ribcage so he can cup your breasts. Gently, he brushes the pads of his thumbs over your nipples, causing them to harden under his icy touch. Unbothered by you breaking the kiss, Hoseok begins peppering kisses along the outline of your jaw and towards your neck. When you let out another gasp, your fingers tightening into his hair, Hoseok smirks, lightly sucking the spot.
“By the moon, you’re so beautiful,” Hoseok reveres as he pulls away, his eyes shifting down your body. He lightly runs his palm along the middle of your stomach and down your hips before pushing his hand between your thighs. Tugging his hair harder, you cry out when he begins softly rolling your clit with his thumb.
“Oh God,” you whimper as Hoseok continues his torturously slow teasing. He smirks over you, flashing his pearly whites before his fingers move, one dipping into you easily. You let out another whine, and your head lolls back automatically, resting on Namjoon’s shoulder as your walls flitter around Hoseok’s finger.
“Fuck- she’s already wet,” Hoseok curses as he pushes a second finger into you. Letting out a soft mew, you buck into his hand, wanting to feel him deeper.
“Hmm. Of course, she is, our Princess is always ready for us. Aren’t you, my love?” Namjoon asks as he playfully nips your shoulder. Your breath hitches when his sharp incisor scrapes against your skin.
“Always! Love feeling you inside me,” you lowly groan as you twist your hand around to rub at Namjoon cloth-covered cock. He hisses against your ear, bucking into your hand.
“Get her on the bed, Namjoon,” Hoseok says as he steps away from you. You whimper when he pulls his fingers out, Hoseok lightly spanks your thigh, causing you to mewl as your pussy clenches around nothing.
“Patience, sweetheart,” Hoseok says before brushing a kiss against your forehead. Namjoon easily picks you up - forcing a squeal out of you as you’re suddenly lifted off the ground - before he deposits you onto the bed. They both stand on the side of the bed, eyes darkening with lust as their gaze roves over your body before stopping at the dewy folds between your thighs. Breaking their stare, Namjoon and Hoseok exchange a nervous glance.
“Before we continue, there’s something you need to know,” Hoseok breathes out. You look at him curiously, your head cocking to the side. You say nothing, waiting for them to continue.
“Hoseok… It’s not going to be like usual,” Namjoon tries to explain. Your eyebrows furrow slightly. Of course it wasn’t. You’d read through the ritual - you know that it’s going to be different.
“I kno-” you begin before Hoseok shakes his head, cutting you off.
“No, sweetheart. I’m not… In order to mark you as the ritual requires, I’ll need to give in to the animal instinct. My wolf will take over. I can’t promise he’ll be gentle either,” Hoseok finally breathes out, “he’s wanted you for so long,” he mutters under his breath. His words are almost inaudible, but you hear them anyway. Your eyes soften at the conflict written on his face. Shifting to your knees, you shuffle to the edge and pull him into you. Once again, your fingers thread through his locks as you gently play with the hair on the nape of his neck - just the way he likes it. Hoseok’s chest rumbles in a low purr at your actions, his nose nuzzling into your hair as he breathes in its scent.
“I don’t want to hurt you. I love you,” Hoseok whispers lowly against the crown of your head. Lips curling into a gentle smile, you lean forward and place a kiss against his chest, just over his heart.
“You won’t hurt me. You could never hurt me. I love you. All of you,” you reassure before tilting your head and pressing a kiss to his lower jaw. Soothed by your words, Hoseok allows you to pull him onto the bed. You smile gently at him, feeling the bed dip behind you as Namjoon crawls onto the mattress.
Lazily, your hands move to Hoseok’s shirt, pulling the strings that bind it together loose. With each undone tie, more and more of his smooth caramel skin is revealed to your eyes. Leaning forward, you push his shirt off of his shoulders before running your hands across his defined, sinewy muscles. You place an open-mouthed kiss on his skin, suckling and licking the flesh as your lips wander over his chest. When your mouth brushes over the bump that signifies his nipple, your smirk against his skin before you wrap your mouth around the small bud, lightly nipping it.
“Fuck. You’re such a tease. Lay down sweetheart, wanna eat your sweet little pussy,” Hoseok says as he pushes you to lie back. With Namjoon behind you, however, you find yourself draped against his chest, his arms automatically encircling your waist. You shudder at the frigid chill of his skin against yours. When had he taken off his shirt? You don’t have much time to ponder the thought, however, because immediately Hoseok begins kissing his way down your body. Arriving at your legs, Hoseok’s hands wrap around the flesh of your thighs before spreading them.
“Gonna make you scream for me tonight, sweetheart. Make you scream for us,” Hoseok says before warm lips brush against your folds. You whimper, Namjoon moving his hands to once again cup your breasts as he teases the erect peaks between his thumbs and forefingers while running his lips along the length of your neck. You moan at his actions, your back arching as you push your chest further into his palms. The walls of your cunt clench, fluttering around nothing. From the low growl of appreciation that resounds from Hoseok’s chest, you know he sees the movement. Immediately, he wraps his lips around your pussy before sucking - hard.
“Oh god,” you mewl, your hands shooting out and entangling into his hair at the sudden stimulation.
“You like the way I play with your tits while Hoseokie eats you, Princess?” Namjoon asks.
“Mhm,” you moan. Your thoughts completely fly out the window when Namjoon pinches your nipple lightly, tugging the bud.
“Don’t forget about me, my love,” Namjoon says before moving your neck to the side and pulling your lips in for a spellbinding kiss. Hoseok’s eyes stay transfixed to the way your mouth moves with Namjoon, his cock twitching at the sight. Lowering his head, but keeping his gaze locked onto you both, he licks a swipe up your folds, gathering your wetness onto his tongue until it’s doused in your heavy, heady taste. You groan against Namjoon’s lips, your hips reflexively bucking into Hoseok.
“So sweet. The prettiest pussy I’ve ever tasted,” Hoseok breathes out, lightly running his fingers through the folds, soaking his digits in your messy wetness. His eyes follow the thin filmy strings of your arousal that cling to his fingers, stretching as he pulls them away from your cunt. When they snap, his fixation is broken, and immediately he plunges his fingers into his mouth, suckling at them as he drinks your arousal.
“Mine’s the only pussy you’ve tasted,” you reply, breaking off your kiss with Namjoon. Your eyes sparkle mischievously, and Hoseok growls out, spanking your thigh immediately. You hiss at the stinging sensation that flares along your flesh - even if he knew how to control his supernatural strength, Hoseok was still incredibly strong.
“I’d be careful if I were you, Princess,” Hoseok warns before plunging two of his fingers inside you. You cry out at the sudden penetration. Hoseok begins thrusting his fingers in and out out of you, pushing them into your depths as his arm muscles flex. You let out a low moan, groaning out his name. His fingers are long - and he knows your body well enough to easily locate the sweet spot nestled inside you that drives you wild with relative ease.
Namjoon bends his neck down, pushing your breast up so he can draw your nipple into his mouth. Sharp incisors scrape against the soft skin, his silken tongue laving and swirling the bud as he wettens it with his saliva. Releasing it with a pop, Namjoon blows cool air over it, causing you to whimper his name. He smirks, his white teeth glinting in the low light before he presses a kiss to your temple and pushes you off of his chest.
“Hoseok, get her on your face… wanna fuck her throat,” Namjoon says as he slides off the bed. Hoseok pulls away from your thighs, his fingers retreating as he chuckles.
“Feeling left out Joonie?” Hoseok asks. Namjoon gives him a pointed look before pushing his trousers down and freeing his cock. The instant you see it, your mouth begins watering. He must definitely be feeling left out, you muse. The head of his cock is an angry shade of purple, weeping with translucent beads of precum that has his cockhead glistening in the low lighting of the room.
Namjoon doesn’t retaliate and instead begins pumping his cock. Hoseok wraps his arms around your thighs firmly, and before you know what’s happening, he uses his strength to completely flip you over. You gasp at the sudden movement, his muscles flexing as he braces the entirety of your weight while he holds you up. Getting comfortable, and with his head resting on the edge of the mattress, Hoseok grabs your thighs and draws you over his face before he lowers your hips. You suck in a sharp breath when his lips wrap around your clit, gently suckling the bud as he runs his fingers along your folds. Namjoon patters over to you, smiling gently before tenderly petting your hair. You coo at the tender touch, returning your own lazy smile.
“Come on love, be good and open up for me,” Namjoon says as he taps his cock against your lips. Already practically drooling at the thought of tasting him, your jaw instantly falls open. Namjoon lets out a pleased hum before gradually inching his cock inside you. You’re not a stranger to sucking off your vampire lover, and yet, every time he pushes into your mouth, your jaw aches from his girth.
“Be good and take my cock, Princess, and Hoseok will reward you, won’t he?” Namjoon says as he gently caresses your head. You keen under him, your lips wrapping tighter around his shaft while your jaw goes slack. Hoseok lets out a low moan of agreement, the vibrations reverberating through your folds as he laves your clit under his tongue.
“Mhm. Be good for Joonie, and I’ll let you cum on my mouth, sweetheart,” Hoseok assures as he lets your clit go. He pushes your hips up slightly so he can stare unabashedly at your cunt, licking his lips and tasting you on his mouth while he takes in the sight of your dewy folds and dripping cunt.
“Fuck, that’s hot. Could watch you drip for us forever, you know,” Hoseok says as he ghosts his fingers across your nether lips. With featherlight touches, his middle and pointer fingers circle the throbbing bud nestled in the hood of your cunt before he runs them along your slit. Long, slender fingers part your folds, gathering as much of your wetness as he can on them until they’re completely slick with your arousal. The dim lighting reflects off the thin film that coats his digits.
Imperceptibly, your thighs shake on either side of Hoseok’s head, the incredibly light, almost non-existent touch slowly driving you wild. You forget about Namjoon’s cock in your mouth, your lips loosening around the shaft as you lose yourself in the sensation of Hoseok’s fingers. Namjoon hisses slightly and grabs your hair roughly before forcing his cock into your mouth, suddenly hitting the back of your head. Instantly, you choke and splutter around his cock, your eyes tearing up. Namjoon holds your hair tightly, keeping his shaft buried against the back of your throat, even as you gag around him.
“Didn’t Hobi tell you to be good for me? Yet, here you are, forgetting about my cock. Is Hoseok a distraction? Does he need to stop so we can use your pretty throat the way it’s supposed to be used?” Namjoon asks, his voice heavy with dominance. Despite your teary eyes and the ache in both your jaw and your throat, you find yourself shaking your head, your cunt clenching.
“Do I need to stop, sweetheart?” Hoseok asks, drawing his fingers away. Again, you frantically shake your head, your words of protest muffled around Namjoon’s cock.
“So, you’ll be good?” Namjoon asks, and you nod your head quickly. Namjoon grunts at the way his cock shifts inside your mouth as you move your head.
“Hmm. We’ll see. Now hold still while I fuck your pretty throat,” Namjoon says. Your muscles instantly tense, twitching intermittently as you stare up at Namjoon through the thick of your lashes. He growls lowly, keeping his eyes fixed onto yours as he begins thrusting hard, but slowly, into your mouth. Every thrust of his hips has him hitting the back of your throat - you have no doubt that it’ll be completely raw and hoarse tomorrow - as you’re jerked on top of Hoseok.
“That’s a good Princess,” Hoseok praises. Then, suddenly, he plunges two fingers into you. You cry out around Namjoon’s cock, the vampire’s thrusts becoming stuttered at the sudden vibration of your mouth against his cock.
“Fuck.” Namjoon hisses through clenched teeth as he forces his cock further into your mouth. The muscles at the back of your throat flutter around his head, and you find yourself inadvertently swallowing. Namjoon let outs another hiss, his head falling back as you slowly swallow his cock down your pharynx.
“Did she take you down her throat, Joonie?” Hoseok asks, his ears twitching at the fucked out sigh that escapes Namjoon’s lips.
“Fuck. Yes-” Namjoon groans out, barely able to string together a rational sentence as he loses himself in the feel of your tight, hot throat pulsing around his shaft.
“Should I reward our princess?” Hoseok asks, lightly thrusting his fingers into you.
“Hmm. I think so. We promised we would if she was good for us - and she’s being really good right now,” Namjoon praises. One of his large hands moves to wrap around your throat, groaning as his thumb affectionately brushes against the outline of his cock in your oesophagus.
Hoseok doesn’t say anything. Instead, he slowly spreads the two fingers he has buried into you, opening you out for his viewing pleasure. He groans as you’re gradually opened out for him. Thick strings of your arousal coat your inner walls, leaking out of your cunt and running down his fingers. Lifting his head up, he plunges his tongue inside of you, swirling the wet appendage around your walls and drenching it in the thick of your taste.
Uncontrollably, your thighs begin shaking around his head as the ecstasy of your impending orgasm draws near. Your eyes shut, tears leaking down your cheeks - both from the sheer pleasure Hoseok wrought on your body and Namjoon’s deep thrusts down your throat as he uses your oesophagus as his own personal cocksleeve. When Hoseok’s thumb moves to press against your clit, rolling it in tight circles, you feel the knot inside your stomach unravel. Violently, you begin shaking as your orgasm sears through your nerves.
Namjoon abruptly pulls out your throat, and you let out a small shriek as you begin cumming around Hoseok’s tongue. Your throat strains, your moans coming out raspy from Namjoon’s thrusts. Hoseok groans as your walls begin clenching rhythmically around his tongue. The honey of your orgasm trickles out of you in thick streams, running along his tongue and straight into his mouth. Tauntingly slow, he continues circling your clit as he draws out your orgasm, wanting nothing more than to drown in your cum.
“Fuck, Hoseok,” you mewl. Your limbs turn into jelly, and you find yourself falling forward, unable to keep yourself upright. Instantly, Namjoon catches you, bracing you against his taut chest. You bury your face into his abdomen, eyes screwed shut as you cry out your pleasure into Namjoon’s flesh.
“Shh. It’s okay, we’ve got you,” Namjoon says tenderly as he lightly runs his fingers through your hair. Soothingly, he massages your scalp as you come down from the elation of your orgasmic high. Once you stop trembling around his face, Hoseok pulls away from your cunt. Licking his lips, he drinks down the remnants of your cum that soaks his mouth and chin. He strains his head and places a soft kiss against your clit before gently rolling you off of him.
Bonelessly, you fall onto the bed. Your chest heaves as you stare up at the ceiling, gaze completely unfocused from the strength of your orgasm. Vaguely, you hear your lovers shuffle around the room, but you’re too far into your orgasmic haze to really care.
Moments later, when you have more of your bearings, you feel the bed dip on either side of your body. Sluggishly, you roll your head towards them, smiling lazily. They’ve stripped completely naked, leaving them in all their glory. Your eyes brazenly rove over their figures, basking in how utterly beautiful your lovers are.
“Are you ready, sweetheart?” Hoseok asks. You nod languidly, and Hoseok lets out a soft chuckle from how completely fucked out you are, your eyes glassy. His arms wrap around your waist and pull you up. Your muscles protest the movement, but you let him manoeuvre you so that your back is rested against his hot chest, your hips between his thighs as his hard cock rests against the top of your ass.
“I know I usually fuck you first - but because of… because of the wolf - we thought it’d be easier if Namjoonie has you first,” Hoseok says softly as he presses a kiss against your neck. Your heart soars at his concern, and you let out a small nod.
“It’ll be fine. I trust you both,” you reply, turning your head and pressing a chaste kiss against Hoseok’s lips. Then, turning back, you lift your arms up and beckon Namjoon towards you. He smiles gently at you. Hoseok’s hands wrap around your thighs before spreading them, letting Namjoon crawl between. Your vampire presses a kiss to your forehead. Then, he uncorks the vial in his hand - the vial you hadn’t even noticed.
“Joonie?” you ask, staring curiously at the glass bottle.
“Did you forget about the bonding ceremony, my love?” Namjoon asks, a playful smile teasing his lips. You blink at him, your mind working sluggishly slow at it navigates the fog of euphoria that clouds it. Suddenly, it clicks. Oh yes, the vial of potion. The vial that would temporarily temper down the poison of his kiss and lower the chances of any fatalities.
“Oh. I forgot about that,” you whisper. Once again, the two of them exchange a nervous glance. Tenderly, Hoseok smooths his hands over the flesh of your thighs, massaging them as Namjoon looks at you warily.
“Are you sure about this? If you don’t want to, we can-” Namjoon begins.
“No. I want this. Please. I want to be yours and Hoseok’s forever,” you cut him off, your eyes staring earnestly into his. Namjoon nibbles his lower lip before nodding. Then, he uncorks the vial, the potion glimmering in a metallic pool of silver before he gulps it down. Namjoon’s nose scrunches up at the taste before he sputters.
“Damn, that’s awful,” he says as he swallows thickly before he turns his attention back to you. He takes in the sight of you, body sprawled across Hoseok’s chest and thighs spread wide for him.
“Fuck. Okay,” Namjoon says lowly. Taking his cock in his hand, he pumps it twice, spreading his precum over it before pressing the head against your entrance. You let out a low moan of appreciation as he runs his cockhead through your folds, wetting it in your arousal before he slowly begins pushing it inside you.
“Oh fuck,” you groan as your eyes screw shut. The girth of Namjoon’s cock slowly spreads you open, inch by inch, as he fills your walls.
“Fucking- how are you always so tight?” Namjoon hisses as he bottoms out. Your hands shoot out to rest against his hips, your fingers digging into his bones. When the walls of your cervix kiss the tip of his cock, Namjoon stills, waiting for you to slowly adjust. You take a couple of deep breaths, more than delirious over the way his cock feels inside you. The slight burn of the stretch soon fades away, and you experimentally clench your walls around him. The sensation of your silken walls clamping down around his shaft has him whining softly.
“Joon, hnn- Joonie, you can move,” you croak. Namjoon steadily eases himself out of you before thrusting back in one fluid motion. You cry out when he once again bottoms out, your head lolling onto Hoseok’s shoulder.
“Fuck her good Joonie. You’ll need to fuck that pretty pussy open so it’s easier for her to take my knot,” Hoseok breathes out. His words ring through your ears, and you involuntarily clench around Namjoon again. God, you’d almost forgotten about that. Hoseok had never knotted you before - he’d never let his wolf take control in the bedroom - but tonight, in order to complete your turning, he’d have to.
“Shit, she likes that. She just got so tight,” Namjoon gasps as he thrusts harder.
“Hmm. Is Joonie right, sweetheart? Do you want me to knot you? Does the Princess want to take my knot like a good little bitch?” Hoseok asks. Your eyes snap open at his words. His voice is considerably deeper and just slightly more gravelly. He sounds like your Hoseok, but different. More animalistic.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” Namjoon groans. The speed of his thrusts increases as his hips ram into yours. With each and every one of his movements, you’re jerked back into Hoseok’s chest. The wolf holds down your thighs, keeping you locked in place as Namjoon begins a brutal pace. Each surge of his cock hits slightly deeper - and with Hoseok holding you down, you have no choice but to take it.
“S-So good,” you whimper out. With each plunge, you can slowly feel yourself approaching the brink of your orgasm. Your thighs begin shaking around him, your hands digging harder into his hips. You clutch his narrow waist hard, holding onto it as if it's your last lifeline.
“Are you going to cum, Princess? I can feel your cunt tightening,” Namjoon asks, and you frantically nod. Flashes of heat run along your skin, your flesh prickling with your nearing peak.
Suddenly, Namjoon grips your hips and yanks them further into his cock. The abrupt movement causes your body to jerk down Hoseok’s chest before Namjoon bends over you, laying both you and Hoseok onto the bed. His chest pressed against yours, your back flush against Hoseok’s abdomen as your head rests on his chest. You cry out when Namjoon wraps your thighs around his hips, digging his knees into the bed and using them as leverage to fuck into your cunt harder and deeper. Imperceptibly, your thighs begin quivering, though Hoseok’s eyes catch the movement.
“She’s cumming Joonie,” Hoseok warns. Namjoon lets out a little grunt and tilts his hips. You let out a low shriek, the change of angle causing his cockhead to brush against the spongy tissue of your g-spot with every thrust.
“Make her cum. I’m not- fuck- gonna last long. She’s- hnng- so fucking tight,” Namjoon croaks, his voice coming out choked. One hand moving from your thigh, Hoseok pushes his fingers against your clit.
Instantly, your back arches, twisting almost painfully as you feel your orgasm ricochet through your body. Your walls rhythmically begin pulsing around the vampire’s cock, tightening around his shaft in almost a vice-like grip. The feel of your cunt milking around him pushes Namjoon over the edge. Thrusting inside of you one final time, Namjoon buries his cock as deep as it can go before cumming and spilling inside of you. Rope after rope of his semen shoots into you, coating your walls white in his thick essence.
Namjoon lets out a little roar, his incisors growing and sharpening until they’re like small daggers. Then, bending over, he latches onto your breast and immediately bites down. The sharpened teeth pierce your breast, the skin tearing as he fills you with a dulled version of his poison while blood rushes into his mouth. You let out a sharp cry as pain flares around your nipple before a cool heat floods through your veins. As soon as he’s done injecting you with his vampiric toxin, Namjoon unlatches his teeth. He begins running his tongue around the wound, inadvertently swirling the appendage around your nipple. The stinging pain of his bite soon begins to fade away as his saliva heals your wound, dulling the ache.
“One down, two more to go,” Namjoon mutters as he unlatches his mouth from your breast. He stares at dark mauve bruises already forming around the puncture marks, almost enraptured by them.
The bonding ritual seemed complicated. There was too much to do - too much that could go wrong, and at first, both he and Hoseok had been hesitant to go through with it - Yoongi’s assurance or not. They didn’t want to hurt you - or lose you because of their own actions. Some of it seemed easy enough - you had to be filled with their cum - or their ‘life essence’ as the instructions had called it - before they could even think about marking you. Then, they had to mark and bite you - at the exact same time, so that they could tie you to them, and that’s where it turned complicated. Due to the potion diluting the strength of his venom, he has to bite you three times, making sure the third time coincides with Hoseok’s bite. If they were off by even the slightest, it would result in your death.
Though, now, as he stares at the purple bruises blooming against your breast, he can’t help but hum in appreciation. Possession flares in his chest, knowing that you’d soon be marked as his and Hoseok’s forever. Soon, you’d be theirs forever: marked and bonded to them for the rest of your lives. Softly, he brushes his plush lips against your sternum in a sweet kiss, your chest heaving under him as you gasp for breath. Easing out of you gently, Namjoon pulls his cock out. The moment his cock leaves you, you let out a soft whine, his cum beginning to drip out.
Before you can catch your breath, you’re suddenly flipped over. Both you and Namjoon let out a gasp of surprise as Hoseok forces you onto your hands and knees, his strength even pushing Namjoon over. Hoseok bends your back, causing it to arch as he pulls your ass into the air. Your head falls between Namjoon’s thighs, his cum covered cock resting against your cheek as Hoseok palms your ass. A low growl emanates from Hoseok’s chest behind you, and instantly your knees go weak. It’s not like his usual growls, no, it’s far too carnal. Too animalistic.
“Look at my bitch’s pretty little ass,” Hoseok grunts, his large palms splaying over the fleshy cheeks. You let out a little whimper at the deep inclination of his voice, your cunt pulsing at the dominance dripping from his words. The wolf spreads the cheeks of your ass, letting out a soft purr of appreciation as he watches Namjoon’s cum drip along your folds.
“Your cunt looks so good filled with the vampire’s seed,” comes the appreciative rumble of Hoseok’s voice. You feel him run his fingers through the folds of your cunt, gathering the spilt cum onto his fingers before pushing them into you. You whimper slightly, your walls slightly raw and still sensitive from Namjoon’s hard thrusts. Hoseok pumps his fingers inside you, watching the way they displace Namjoon’s cum from your pussy. Pulling his fingers out, he smirks at the way Namjoon’s cum coats his fingers before placing them back against your cunt. Once again, he gathers Namjoon’s cum before plunging his fingers back into you, pushing Namjoon’s cum deep into your cunt.
“Such a messy little slut- you’re dripping like a good little bitch in heat. Hmm, I don’t know why he never let me play with you before,” the wolf muses, no doubt referring to Hoseok’s human personality. You feel him spread his fingers inside you, attempting to splay your walls, “tight too - but don’t worry, I’m sure you can take my knot,” Hoseok purrs. Then he pulls his fingers out, only for them to be replaced with the head of his cock.
Your eyes widen, hands shooting out to grip Namjoon’s thighs as Hoseok begins pushing into your entrance. He’s big - much bigger than he’s ever been. Your eyes screw shut at the sheer girth - somehow, he’s thicker than Namjoon. Despite your vampire lover fucking you not even minutes ago and the mix of both your cum, the bulbous head of Hoseok’s cock still struggles to push into the tightness of your cunt.
“Fuck. Be a good little bitch and relax,” Hoseok gnarls, but despite his harsh words, he soothingly rubs your back. Feeling the warmth of Hoseok’s touch, as well as the usual gentleness of your wolf lover, you find yourself relaxing enough for him to gently ease his head in. You let out a deep, low groan as he slowly fills you beyond anything you’ve ever felt before, your walls stretching around his cock. You’re unbelievably full.
Hoseok lets out a low growl, his chest rumbling behind you, “that’s a good bitch. You’re taking my cock so good. Gonna knot you, fill you with my cum, and breed you like my good bitch,” Hoseok snarls as he continues forcing his length inside you. Nails digging into Namjoon’s flesh, you let out a soft whimper, your head resting on the vampire’s thick thighs.
Inch by inch, Hoseok spreads your walls open. The girth is the same almost all the way down, and long, excruciating moments later, he finally bottoms out. Hoseok stills behind you, one hand tenderly rubbing the small of your back. He’s buried so deep in you, it’s almost like you can feel him at the back of your throat. Once you adjust to his girth, you let out a laboured breath and push your ass against him.
“Please,” you whimper, voice low and practically inaudible. Hoseok, however, hears you. You feel his hands move from your back to grip at your hips, sharp talons scraping against your skin.
“Ready for me?” Hoseok asks, and your chest flutters at the slightly higher-pitched tone. It’s Hoseok, your Hoseok - the human counterpart to the wolf.
“Mhm. Want you. All of you,” you reply. This time, when he growls, it’s back to the lower, more carnal sound, and you know the wolf is back.
“Then you’ll get all of me,” he snarls. You feel his grip on your hips tighten before he pulls out of you in one motion until only the tip of his cock in buried into you. Suddenly, he thrusts in deeply, burying his cock into your depths in one slick motion. You scream out his name, your body jerking forward from the abrupt thrust. Namjoon hisses when your nails curl into his legs once again before looking at you in worry.
“Are you okay?” Namjoon asks. Concern laces his voice as his gaze momentarily flicks towards Hoseok. The russet haired male’s eyes are completely gold, not a hint of brown present in them. His irises glow unnaturally in the low lighting of the room, and Namjoon curses as he realises Hoseok’s too far deep into his own baser, carnal need.
“F-Fine,” you stutter, barely able to get the words out as Hoseok begins impaling you with his cock. He’s so big, it feels like you’re being split open, and yet, with every thrust, his head brushes against your g-spot, causing your toes to curl in pleasure.
Hoseok moves his hands to your ass cheeks, spreading them open and groaning at the sight. The tight ring of your walls grips his shaft in a vice-like grip, the muscles stretching and pulling with each violent thrust of his cock. He finds himself mesmerised by the sight, gaze enthralled by the way his thick girth fucks your cunt open. His cock is slick, streaks of Namjoon’s cum running down the length as it glistens with the thin filmy wetness of your own cum.
The mixture of both your cum and Namjoon’s acts as a makeshift lubricant, allowing Hoseok to slide into you easier. You groan with each and every one of his thrusts, little whimpers and sighs of both pain and pleasure escaping your mouth. Hoseok’s hands grip your hips, yanking them back onto his cock over and over again as he brutally impales you on his cock. His ministrations only drive you wilder, the pain of his sheer girth stretching you out mixing with the pleasure he forces on your body.
“Fuck-” Hoseok snarls, his pace becoming stuttered. You let out a sharp gasp, practically choking on air as you feel his cock throb inside you. The rhythmic pulsing mirrors the clenching of your own walls, “gonna breed you. Gonna knot your tight little pussy and fuck it full of my cum- gonna make sure I fill your belly full of my pups” Hoseok hisses.
He yanks your hips towards him, his hips slamming against your ass as the sound of skin slapping fills the air. Holding you still, Hoseok leans over your back, plunging his cock into your depths even harder. Your eyes widen just a fraction, and you let out a little cry as you feel the base of his cock begin to swell. A whimper of pain escapes you, your eyes tearing up as you feel the walls of your cunt begin to stretch to their limit.
“Ah- Hoseok,” you gasp out, your hand twisting behind to get him to slow down. Hoseok barely acknowledges you, however, and instead, he continues jackhammering into you. The brute force of his thrusts causes his knot to brush against your walls, the thick knotted flesh threatening to penetrate you with each plunge of his hips. When a fraction of it slips into you, you cry out: this time in pain.
“Fuck! Hoseok, slow down,” Namjoon hisses, his brows scrunching in worry. Hoseok simply snarls at him. Namjoon curses as he realises just how lost into his animalistic urges the wolf is.
“Gotta breed her to complete the bonding,” Hoseok manages to growl out. Conflicted by Hoseok’s words, Namjoon freezes. On one hand, he knows that in order to bond and mate with you, you need to take Hoseok’s knot; however, on the other hand, he can’t stand to see you in pain. Contemplating whether he should stop Hoseok, Namjoon runs his tongue across the front of his teeth. Instantly, his eyes widen as an idea pops into his head.
Namjoon pushes Hoseok backwards, his supernatural strength forcing the wolf onto his ass. As he falls back, Hoseok keeps his grip firmly onto your hips, and you’re dragged back with him. The movement causes you to jerk onto his lap, Hoseok’s knot slipping further into you and causing you to cry out at the sudden intrusion, your walls being stretched open. Namjoon winces and places an apologetic kiss on your forehead. Hoseok ignores you both, instead, using your hips as leverage to slam you harder onto his cock. Your entire body bounces on top of his as he fucks into you, his hips thrusting upwards.
“Ahah- please,” you whimper, your breathing becoming laboured as your eyes screw shut from pain.
“Spread your thighs, love,” Namjoon softly orders. You whimper but do as asked, your legs falling open. The movement only causes Hoseok to growl as your cunt loosens up slightly.
The wolf grips your hips tighter, grinding you onto his cock and causing you to hiss when he sinks in deeper. Crawling between them, Namjoon winces at how swollen you are, your walls stretched immensely as Hoseok continues pushing the flared base of his cock into you. Gathering saliva into his mouth, Namjoon lets it pool onto his tongue before dribbling it onto your cunt. You hiss as the cool spit drips down your heated cunt and around Hoseok’s knot. Namjoon leans forward, lightly kissing and suckling your clit.
As Namjoon’s spit begins running over your entrance, you slowly feel the pain begin to ebb away. Your muscles relax slightly, twitching from the sudden loss of tension. Your eyelids flutter open as you let out a low moan - of pleasure this time - when Namjoon laves your clit. Swallowing thickly, you stare at the top of Namjoon’s head as he eats you out, the healing properties of his spit slowly working their magic and alleviating the ache of Hoseok’s knot.
“Better?” Namjoon asks, his words vibrating across the sensitive bundle of nerves. You throw your head back in pleasure before nodding. Namjoon smirks, keeping his eyes glued onto you as he continues lapping and suckling at your clit. You whine at the feeling of Hoseok’s knot slowly entering you. Now, with the aid of Namjoon’s spit, you can focus more on the pleasure, your skin flushing with heat as your toes curl.
Namjoon’s thick lips wrap around your clit before he draws the bud between his teeth. Gently rolling it, he lightly nibbles on it - teasing your clit until you find yourself tearing up from pleasure. You’re impossibly full, Hoseok still using your hips to pull you onto his cock over and over again - using your cunt as his own personal cocksleeve. With every slam of your hips onto his cock, his knot invades your cunt further. It continues swelling, enlarging under you as your eyes roll from how utterly filled you are. Your hips writhe on top of Hoseok’s, following his rhythm and causing him to let out a low growl of appreciation.
Suddenly, Namjoon unwraps his mouth from your clit, and instead, licks the seam of your stretched out cunt as it clings to Hoseok’s cock. He stares at the beads of his cum, your cum, and Hoseok’s precum that gathers around your entrance. It leaks out in little rivulets, down Hoseok’s shaft and along his knot. Unable to resist, Namjoon finds himself tentatively lapping it, before swallowing. He groans at the taste - the three of you heavy on his tongue.
Growing bolder, Namjoon furiously begins licking along your pussy and Hoseok’s knot, gathering as much of the mixture of cum as he can before swallowing it down thickly. You shiver, your thighs beginning to quake as his tongue darts across your pussy. Pulling away from your cunt, Namjoon replaces his mouth with his fingers. Expert fingers begin rolling your clit, pushing and prodding the little bud and drawing out small mews of pleasure from your lips. Namjoon’s lips ghost across the inside of your thighs, gently nipping the skin as he readies it for his second mark. You can feel your end nearing, your abdomen tightening with heat as your skin prickles with ecstasy.
Namjoon bites down on your thigh abruptly, forcing a grunt of pain from your lips when his incisors once again break your skin. You feel him inject his venom into you, and this time, it’s more potent. It mingles with the toxin already in you, cold heat searing every single one of your veins as your blood is pumped around your body. Namjoon quickly unlatches his mouth from you, running his tongue over the puncture wounds as he alleviates the pain. Plush lips brush against the bruising mark, ghosting soft kisses along the flesh in praise.
“You’re doing so good, love. Just a bit more,” Namjoon says. His gaze is fixed onto your cunt, watching the lewd way in which Hoseok’s knot stretches your cunt as he continues mindlessly playing with your clit. His thumb moves to your entrance, softly brushing the pad against where you and Hoseok are connected. You cry out, your walls clenching tightly around Hoseok.
“Hoseok, she’s not gonna last much longer,” Namjoon warns as he feels your blood rush around your body, your heart beating to the speed of hummingbird wings.
Namjoon kisses his way up your body, stopping briefly to lick and nip one of your nipples, all while continuously working your clit under his fingers. His head falls to the juncture of your neck, his mouth watering as he feels the pulse of your jugular. Lazily, he kisses the skin, gently suckling the tender flesh as he prepares it for his final mark. Hoseok moves his lips to the opposite side, his lips pushed against the crook as he lightly nibbles the skin causing you to gasp as his sharp canines scrape against the skin.
With one final thrust, Hoseok slams you onto his cock, pushing the final remaining inch of his knot inside you. The sudden stretch, paired with Namjoon’s fingers endlessly teasing your clit causes you to hurtle off the edge. You sob out both their names, your head thrown back and back arched into the air as you scream towards the heavens. Hoseok lets out a deep guttural howl before jets of his cum shoot out and into your cunt. You softly cry as the heat of his cum fills you from the inside. You find yourself drowning in its warmth. Your walls clench around his shaft, milking it for all it’s worth as his knot keeps both his and the remnants of Namjoon’s cum plugged up inside you.
Then, with one glance towards each other, Hoseok and Namjoon bite down onto your neck. You feel their sharpened teeth tear into your skin before power surges through your body. Eyes widening from the sheer energy that ricochets within your nerve fibres, you let out a curdling, ear-piercing scream. Their essence sears every single blood vessel as the pure ecstasy of your orgasm courses along your nerves. The two men wince as your howl thunders through their eardrums, your entire being intensely shaking as their power overwhelms you.
Namjoon keeps his eyes trained onto you, watching the way your eyes flash between white and their usual colour. When they finally stop flickering and return to normal, he lets out a sigh of relief. Both he and Hoseok unhook their fangs from your skin, Namjoon quickly running his tongue over the puncture wounds to allay the blood that begins forming around them. Humming against your skin, he licks up the sweet, metallic tasting droplets. Somehow, despite how completely exhausted you are, you feel every single one of your cells thrum with energy as they pulse with life.
Once the overpowering ecstasy ebbs away, leaving you drunk on the euphoria of your orgasmic high, you fall limply onto Hoseok. The wolf catches you easily, wrapping his arm around your waist as he presses his palm across your soft belly. Breath laboured, you gasp for air as your muscles erratically twitch and spasm between them. Hoseok whines as he comes back to his senses, nuzzling your neck as he presses apologetic kisses into your skin.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Hoseok whimpers, repeating his words over and over again as he punctuates them with soft kisses. Vaguely, through your blissed-out state, you manage to process his words. You shake your head, letting it lazily loll onto Hoseok’s shoulder.
Sluggishly, your hand moves to sit on top of his large palm before you lace your fingers between his. Under both your palms, your belly feels warm, filled with Hoseok’s cock and a mixture of both your lovers’ warmth. The wolf gently caresses your abdomen and you bask in his tender touch. Briefly, you wonder if you’d be giving either of them children anytime soon. It sure felt like you would, just from how full of cum you are. With each caress of your abdomen, Hoseok whispers his apologies over and over again, his voice filled with remorse. You hum contentedly.
“You don’t need to apologise,” you finally rasp out, your throat straining.
“I shouldn’t have lost control like that. I hurt you,” Hoseok says and you hum once again.
“Only slightly - nothing I couldn’t handle. Besides, Joonie made it better. I can’t even remember the pain anymore,” your soft voice echoes through your bedchambers. Hoseok presses another kiss against the column of your throat before sending a grateful smile to the vampire, causing him to grin in return.
“I love you,” you soft whisper, words filled with nothing but adoration as you bring his hands to your lips. Then, flicking your gaze to your vampire, your lips curl into a lazy, content smile.
“And I love you too,” you affirm, one arm sluggishly reaching out for him. Namjoon’s grin deepens, his teeth on display and dimples indenting. Bending over you, he brushes his lips against the corner of your mouth.
“I love you too... so much,” Namjoon whispers. He’s so close to you that with every movement of his lips, you feel them ghost over yours.
“Mmm. Don’t forget about me- I love you too. We both do,” Hoseok says. Namjoon rolls his eyes before pushing both you and Hoseok down and onto the bed. You whimper when Hoseok’s cock refuses to dislodge from within you, Hoseok letting out a heavy exhale.
“Sorry, we’re gonna be like this a while,” Hoseok informs and you let out a deep sigh as Hoseok moves you into a more comfortable position on the bed.
Hoseok spoons you from behind, his arm tightly wrapped around your waist and his chest flush against your back. Your hips squirm over him, Hoseok hissing as you shuffle to find a cosier spot. Once finding it, you grin and sleepily beckon for Namjoon. The vampire moves to lie next to you, his head slightly lowered so he can press languid kisses against the tops of your breasts. Instinctively, your hands curl into Namjoon’s hair, mindlessly playing with the locks as both of them lavish your skin with tender kisses.
“I assume it worked? The bonding I mean,” you ask. Both your boys laugh at you, Hoseok’s warm breath fanning against the skin of your neck.
“If it didn’t, you’d be dead sweetheart,” Hoseok chuckles. You pout but don’t have the energy to move, your muscles smarting from the remnants of your orgasms.
“I definitely feel dead,” you mutter petulantly under your breath. Though, they still manage to hear your words; supernatural hearing and all, causing them to laugh once again.
You ignore them this time, instead, basking in Hoseok’s soothing warmth and Namjoon’s death-like chill. A smile teases your lips as you think about the years you have ahead. You can’t think of a better way to spend the rest of your life than with your two mates.
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a/n: hENLO!! I hope you enjoyed hnnnn this as much as I did writing it 🥴 please don’t forget to leave some feedback and tell me what you think 🥺
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z3llous · 3 years
Text
𝓡𝓮𝓭𝓪𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓬𝔂
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@burnthoneymint​
This is my entry for Sanjifest! I started working on this in January, but it fit the prompt well (oof a few months put into this). It has both text and illustration (Lol I hope the difference in quality over time isn’t too bad). I hope you love it!
Prompt: “That is definitely not what I was expecting.”
---
I can't be late
They quickly rounded the corner only to crash into someone, the briefcase previously in their hand hitting the pavement and sliding away.
Shit
They scrambled to get up, looking to see an outstretched hand. Hesitating for a moment, they took it.
"You dropped this." The  pretty blond stranger said holding their briefcase.
"Yes, thank you. I'm sorry I really don't have time to talk." They grabbed it and turned to leave.
"Wait, what's your name?"
"It's Y/n!" They answered before rushing away.
He sighed watching them vanish in the distance.
"Y/n...Damn, they're beautiful. At least I got their name..."
---
Bright colors of flowers decorated the town. He was normally too busy to stop and smell the literal roses that florists put out during the first week of summer.
His eyes trailed aimlessly over the crowd and recognized a familiar form he'd been seeking every time he visited the area.
He couldn't miss such an opportunity.
"Y/n!" He waved excitedly catching their attention.
SUCCESS
"Why hello, I didn't expect to see you again." Y/n said once they reached him.
"You remember me!"
"Of course, how could I forget. Your look is quite signature." They laughed.
"True, very true." He laughed in return and rubbed the back of his neck.
"I was in a bit of a hurry last time we met, so I didn't get a name."
"Oh, it's Sanji." He was sure they weren't from around there, but still hoped they wouldn't recognize it.
"Lovely to officially meet you, Sanji." They gently took his hand and placed a soft kiss upon his knuckles.
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 He froze. The gears had stopped turning in his mind, that was a first for him.
"Hello, Sanji?" Y/n tried not to laugh and snapped their fingers to bring him back to land of the living.
"Huh? Uh... Oh...OH! Yes?" His eyes flitted everywhere except them when he realized what happened.
"Would you like to join me for the rest of the evening?" They leaned in, looked up with a playful expression, and offered a hand.
"O-of course" He timidly accepted their hand.
I'm going to die of a heart attack before the sun sets.
---
Hues of pink and purple spread across the horizon, coating the atmosphere in serenity. A zephyr caressed their skin affectionately as they traversed toward the pier.
The remaining rays of the day highlighted his distant form in an ethereal manner. It left them frozen in an entranced state, thankfully he was yet to notice them.
Once Y/n returned they had to muster the confidence to approach him and begin their implied "date".
With my job you'd think this would be easy for me, but no I can't even walk up to him. Damn pretty boy, had to look angelic...
Fortunately, he turned to see them and the problem had been solved.
"Oh, Y/n! I hope your trip was pleasant. I wish you'd let me pick you up though." He said excitedly.
"Yes, the train ride was pleasant. I've told you before, the hotel I'm staying at is out of town. I'd rather not have you making such a trip over me." They stated calmly with a mild smile.
"But Y/n I want to~"
"I know you do. Alright, once I've finally quit my job and moved into a house I'll let you pick me up." They pretended to be deep in thought.
"I won't forget it!" He laughed.
"Yeah, yeah. Now, c'mon I'd like to start exploring before everything closes. I don't normally get to visit the seaside." Y/n held out their hand, trying not show the excitement bubbling within.
"I thought your job required travel." He grabbed their hand.
"It does, but not normally more relaxed areas, like here."
"You never told what you do." He thought aloud looking to the warm colored wisps of cloud.
"I would if I could.  My work often involves rich people, who don't like me talking about their business. I should be out of there soon, anyway." They sighed.
"Oh, that makes sense. I wouldn't want to get you in trouble." He lightly tightened his hold of their hand.
"Don't worry about it. Let's just enjoy the moment." They squeezed back.
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---
Their time spent in town was sweet and filled with playful teasing.
As the sun sunk into the sea they bought warm drinks from a cafe and decided to spend the remaining time together on the beach.
Sand underfoot made pleasant sound as they walked, steam from the cups swirled off into the cool night air.
"Y/n?" He stopped walking.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sure you've heard of the upcoming ball at the palace... Would you be my date?" He lifted their hand up, thumb rubbing their knuckles, and eyes glistening under moon light in anticipation.
"That's definitely not what I was expecting. Yes, of course, I'd love to be your date." Y/n gave him a soft smile.
Sanji set their drinks down carefully, before turning around to excitedly wrap his arms around and lift them slightly off the ground in an embrace. He was so happy he couldn't help but laugh a bit.
"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you-" He chanted.
"Alright. Alright. I get it." They laughed.
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---
Piano wafted through the air seductively as they took sip of the golden fluid glowing under the citrine light above. 
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A figure dressed in auburn approached from behind to sit across from them. 
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"Rue, late as always." Y/n stated swishing their drink around to admire it.
"Yes, well one doesn't wake up looking this good." She joked, her ruby nails searched through her bag.
She pulled out and slid a sheet of paper across the table top.
Y/n's eyes trailed over the words taking in the information.
"So Mr. Zero wants me to go out with a bang, huh?" They mused glancing up to meet Rue's Amber eyes.
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"It would seem so. He doesn't want you to live to tell the tale." She laughed. Her burgundy lips slowly formed a devilish smirk and she leaned forward. "Surprise him." 
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---
Y/n stood outside staring at the paper.
"I might not be able to keep my promise. I don't know if I'll live long enough to have a home of my own. I'm sorry, Sanji."
They took one last look before setting the page alight.
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Text of page:
COMMISSION NO. 7326
DEAD OR ALIVE:
DEAD
PREFERRED METHOD:
NONE
LOCATION:
SUNNY PALACE
TARGET/S:
STRAW HAT ROYAL FAMILY
---
Click
Click
Click
The sound their shoes hitting the marble floor echoed in Y/n's mind. The crowd surrounding was nothing more than background noise. The butterflies that fluttered about inside them were far too distracting. Tonight was the night. Be it the end or the beginning, They didn't know.
The people gathered around the stage hoping to sneak a glance of the royal family behind the curtain.
A man with spiked green hair walked up, introduced himself as Bartolomeo, and began a long fangirly speech about the royal family.
Y/n took this moment to look around for Sanji and Rue.
There She was sitting and sipping a glass of wine, classic Rue. She must've sensed Their eyes, for she gave them a smile and thumbs up.
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Sanji was no where to be seen, Crowd: nope, Tables: nothing, or maybe the food table? No, not there either.
They took a deep breath and chose not to worry about it.
Finally a  foot peaked out from under the curtain and kicked him, effectively causing the ball to begin. Piano played, Bartolomeo stepped off stage, and the curtains were drawn.
One by one each butterfly once aflutter now dropped dead and began to rot.
There he was, sitting on a throne with the rest of the Straw Hats.
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The blade grew warm as their stomach twisted itself into a tight knot. The joyful music felt to be coming from another room.
They were too dazed to notice the people preparing to dance and the royal family walking off stage to join in.
"Y/n?" Sanji called their name again. When he did he get so close?
"Yes...?"
"There you are. Sorry, was that too shocking? I didn't know how to tell you." He rubbed his neck, the tile below seemed rather interesting to him.
"That's...Alright. It's not like you could've brought it up easily." They too found the tile to be interesting.
As nice as the tile was, no solutions to the new problem could be found in it.
"Um, would you allow me a dance?" He offered his hand, glancing at them.
"How could I say no?" They took his hand and smiled, sweeping the dead butterflies under the rug to be dealt with later.
They gracefully swirled around and around, hands intertwined, hearts racing, and warmth rising to their faces. Though they tried to rid of it, a dull ache lingered deep beneath.
The song met its end which led to the beginning of another.
"C'mon follow me." He whispered as they slipped through a door and into a photo filled hallway.
Y/n paused for moment to look at a picture of Sanji running with who they thought to be King Luffy on his back. Many other pictures with others just as happy surrounded it.
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I wish I had something like that
He walked ahead and opened a door.
"Here it is." He motioned for them to step through.
"Oh my-" They had lost their words.
An intricate ebony fence wrapped around the garden keeping the delicate flowers safe as they admired the ivory fountain in the center.
"Beautiful isn't it? I often come here to escape the king's insatiable hunger." He joked taking their hand and leading them to the center. "Nothing compared to you though." He smiled and traced along their cheek to move a strand of hair behind their ear.
They grew flustered and took a step forward, only for their foot to be caught on a brick in the path. They both tumbled down.
Y/n had him pinned to the ground. The two stared at each other for a moment to take in what had just happened and then burst into laughter.
Their laughter died first. The pain quickly settled in.
I can't. I can't give him up.
He noticed their expression and panicked.
"Y/n, what's wrong? Are you alright? Did you get hurt?" Concern dripped from every word.
"I- I need to tell you something." Tears welled in their eyes.
"Yes?"
"You know that job I've been trying to get out of?"
"Yeah?"
"It's Baroque Works. They're in the assassination business. They gave me a suicide mission yesterday. I'm supposed to kill your family. I- I can't do this, but they'll kill me if I don't. I can't I don't know what to do I'm-" Their words grew messier and more fearful the longer they talked, until he cut them off from anymore scared rambling.
"It's going to be alright. Everything is going to be ok. You are going to ok."
He lifted his free hand to wipe away the tears.
"It is?" They mumbled.
"Yes, I promise we'll help you. You're not alone anymore, alright?" He lowered his hand to gently hold their wrist and rub reassuringly with his thumb.
"Alright."
He smiled lovingly up at them.
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"Together." They whispered leaning down catching him in sweet kiss.
"Together." He responded going in for another.
---
Epilogue:
Luffy, as always, was excited to have a new member of the family. Y/n quickly grew accustomed to the chaotic crew (Pun intended).
Rue was interrogated by Nami. Which, surprisingly, went smoothly. They got along quite well, too well. Within the month of them working together they were caught making out by the unfortunate Usopp.
He never forgot it.
---
"To the end of Baroque Works and the Freedom of  Y/n and Rue!" They Cheered holding up their glasses together in celebration.
Rue turned to Nami and pulled her in for a kiss.
"How did you two even get together?" Usopp groaned.
"Simple, I've always loved shrewd women." Rue joked and slid an arm around her girlfriend's waist.
The devilish couple laughed while Usopp died inside, now he had to deal with two of them.
Y/n sat at the bar where poor Sanji was most frequent the whole evening. He took every chance he got to stop by with a small treat and chat with them, but the demand was high and his visits were few and far between.
---
Finally the sun had set, everyone had turned in for the night, and Y/n finished helping Sanji clean up, regardless of his wishes.
After preparing for bed Y/n pulled him under the covers and turned off the light.
"Shhhh You've worked hard. You must be so tired. Let me take care of you." They whispered holding him close, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.
He mewled and nuzzled into their touch.
They mumbled sweet words and ran their fingers through his hair until they both fell into peaceful slumber.
---
The wattpad cover:
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All the illustrations: 
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toointofiction · 3 years
Text
Hey, guys. This is my first writing attempt. I've been thinking about writing a little something for Darklina for a while now. I really hope you like it and if you have any feedback to give me, you are more than welcome to do so.
Darklina One-shot
Pairing: Alina x the Darkling
Genre: Fluff, Feel-good
Summary: Alina and Aleksander are enjoying a rare tranquil day together in bed away from their royal responsibilities, wrapped around each other and Alina has some exciting news to tell her husband.
Check it out on the link below:
Or keep reading below:
Next to her, her husband’s body is wrapped around her, holding her close. The room is dimly lit with only a few candles burning around them, and the royal chamber’s red and gold embroidered curtains drawn shut. Both Alina and Aleksander keep their eyes closed, relishing in the calmness that’s wrapped around them. Just like the way the soft silky bedding is wrapped around them. The only sound in the room comes from the Grisha children playing outside in the royal gardens, giggling, and screeching in delight, celebrating merrily the end of classes for the day.
Alina is lying in bed, in the royal chambers, surrounded by an unnecessary amount of elaborately colourful pillows, relishing in the rare serenity. Ever since she became Queen of Ravka, there’s hardly any room for such tranquillity. Whatwith the stress and long hours of ruling a country, keeping borders secure, and the people safe.
Ever since Alina and Aleksander became the King and Queen of Ravka, they had to expand the Little Palace, a school and safe place for all Grisha, as their numbers increased significantly after they ascended the throne. They also allow children and any other Grisha access to the royal gardens, the Grand Palace Library, which is twice as large as the one at the Little Palace, and anywhere else they wish to go to for that matter. Something that the former king would never have agreed to.
Alina continued listening to the children’s merry sounds when she felt Aleksander stirring at her back. He was slowly waking up from his well-deserved nap as his arms lazily tightened around Alina and moved to kiss her lightly on the temple.
“Hey,” he rumbled.
“Hi.” Alina smiled slightly, snuggling deeper into her husband’s embrace. “This is nice.”
“It is.” He took a deep breath and began tracing the side of her face with kisses, slowly reaching her shoulder.
“Do you think Ravka would be fine if we hid here for a few days?” Alina asked, only half-joking.
“I highly doubt it,” he responded, “This is Ravka after all.”
This made Alina laugh a little. He was right, of course. This was Ravka and there was hardly ever a moment of peace here, even though, they weren’t actively at war for the moment. Based on Ravka’s track record, this would doubtfully last much longer. However, there have hardly been any issues between Ravka and her neighbouring countries, Shu Han and Fjerda, since Alina and Aleksander were crowned.
This was something else that has improved since the old King forcefully abdicated the throne, with the help of the former Prince Nikolai now Captain Strumhold or Lord Nikolai depending on where you find him, and promptly exiled, far away from Ravka. Both Alina and Aleksander wished to have him executed for his incompetence in ruling the country all these years and his continuous abuse of power, especially when it came to the Palace servant, but were subtly talked out of that by the golden-throated Prince.
“Well, we can stay here a little while longer, right?” Alina asks as she turns around, still under the covers, to face her husband.
Aleksander tangled a hand in Alina’s snow-white hair. “Yes, I suppose we can,” Aleksander responds, a small smile grazing his lips. “For a little longer.”
Alina stretches up towards him, moving her face closer to his, and gives him a small kiss. “Good.”
After a moment’s pause Aleksander asks, “So, are you finally going to tell me what you’ve been trying to tell me for days?”
Alina stills. “What do you mean?”
“Alina, I can tell you want to tell me something, he replayed, quietly. “I keep catching you looking at me, ready to say something but you always stop yourself from doing so. What’s going on?”
Alina lets out a long breath. “Okay, fine. I’ve been trying to find a special way to tell you this but kept coming up empty.” She tilted her head up slightly and looked into his eyes. “I’m pregnant.”
She held her breath waiting for the reaction she knew was coming, but for a long moment there was nothing. His face was completely devoid of emotion. Then his mouth split into a giant smile, his unusual, grey eyes shined as bright as the sun, which was a little funny given that he was a man made of darkness, and he said, “You are? Truly?”
Alina grinned, “Yes. Yes I am.”
He let out a breathy laugh and dropped kisses all over her face, “That’s amazing, Alina. I can’t believe you waited this long to tell me.”
“I know.” Alina wined, clutching on the front of his shirt. “I wanted to turn it into a special occasion but kept coming up with nothing. Not to mention that we hardly had any time on our own like this in longer than a week.”
Aleksander laughed again, “Okay, fine. That’s true. Do you know how far along you are?”
Alina kisses the side of his mouth. “The Healer said a little over a month.”
“Any symptoms, yet?”
“No, not really. Except that I’m always sleepy and hungry.”
“Well, that could apply to any other given day,” he joked, laughing softly.
“Hey!” Alina shoved him slightly, which only made him laugh louder.
“What? I’m not lying, am I?” It was hard to stay mad at him. Especially, with all that joy written all over his face.
In all honesty, Alina would never have guessed that he wanted or even liked children. But she would often catch him looking at the young Grisha playing together in the royal garden with a soft almost wistful smile on his face. She also noticed he visited the children at the Little Palace more often than he had to, always bringing them presents and making sure they felt safe and comfortable, and that their lessons weren’t too much, too tiring for them. That was when Alina figured it out. He wanted children of his own. That was the moment she decided that they should have a talk about it. That was why, just a few months ago, on another quiet night after their dinner, she sat him down and told him of what she realised and that she, too, wanted the same thing. It was that same night they decided to start trying, right away, much to both their delight.
“I almost can’t believe this is happening for us so quickly,” Alina said after a few moments of silence.
“I know. I can’t believe it either. I certainly expected us to keep trying for longer than this.”
Alina giggled, “I bet you did. We could still try for fun, you know.”
“Well, I would definitely like that,” Aleksander responded while pulling Alina under him, placing his hand on her abdomen for a short moment. Then, he bent down and kissed her deeply on the lips.
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lovelivingmydreams · 4 years
Text
Not the one I wanted to fight. Good ending
So a while ago I made a story to go with this magnificent piece of fan art by @immastingray. I made a good ending and a bad one. And now I’m thinking to maybe see where the bad one is headed. But first I wanted to show you both stories again. So here’s the good ending first enjoy!
It was a beautiful night. The clear sky allowed for the castle to be bathed in the light of the full moon. The open curtains in the main hallways let in its near-magical silver shine both fading into the warm red glow of the fire and contrasting against it.
A loud clang and a joyless laugh echoed through the hallway.
“Roman Please!” Virgil called out desperately, tears springing to his eyes as he parried Roman’s next attack as he had all the ones that came before.
When Roman had started to teach him ‘the art of the blade’ he’d thought it was as a weird bonding activity, he never expected to actually need it. Alright, maybe he thought he might, but he’d figured that was just his pessimism talking. And even in his worst-case scenario, Roman had never been his opponent.
“Come on Virgil!” Roman taunted, almost dancing through the trashed hallway.
“You’ve given me more of a challenge during our warm-up fights! You can do much better than this!” He pointed out as he swung his blade glowing red with his… Pain? Fear? Anger? Virgil didn’t know.
He knows that the silver glow of his own blade is fueled by his desperation to get both of them out of this situation unharmed.
After Patton told him what happened, he’d immediately ran off to the imagination. He’d expected to find the destruction. An upset Roman was as extra as an excited Roman after all. His friend didn’t do anything halfway.
He’d feared that Roman would call upon a monster to fight that was too much to handle and get hurt somehow. That was why he’d called forth the sword Roman had given him as a present the first time he’d manage to unarm him during one of their sparing matches. It was designed with him in mind, perfect in every way, glowing with magical energy that fueled the blade with strength drawn from his emotions. It felt like a part of him at this point. And now he’d have to use it against the one who’d made it that way.
“I don’t want to fight you!” he insisted, willing the tears not to fall.
“Then perish!” Roman growled as he charged. Virgil jumped back.
“Roman, please we can talk about this!” he knew it wouldn’t help but he hoped it would buy him a second to think of something. When he found Roman he’d been in the throne room surrounded by paintings he’d slashed to bits. All bearing the prince’s likeness. Broken pieces of busts lay among the ruined frames. When Virgil called out to him and asked if he was unharmed… He’d been too slow to notice that Roman’s costume had changed. His sash turned gold, his costume a troubling crimson. And his normally subtle crown of woven gold with three ruby blossoms embedded was now a grand crown fitting a king rather than a prince.
Upon hearing his voice Roman had looked up with fire in his eyes and then… Something in him had snapped. He’d brushed the hair out fo his face and summoned his sword. He’d said something about the dashing hero arriving to take down the wicked king and charged. His movements had been full of effortless grace. Roman was playing around and until he became serious Virgil wasn’t going to even consider switching to offence. He still hoped to snap Princey out of whatever breakdown he was struggling with. Because… Roman was his friend, and Virgil knew what it was like to lash out in anger or fear. He wouldn’t cause the dramatic side more pain than he already was in.
“Talk!” Roman laughed joylessly. “Talk! That’s all we ever do. And what has it ever gotten me? Even when I do everything right, I’m still wrong!” he bites. As he makes a twirl and aims his sword for Virgil’s stomach. Virgil has no trouble evading it. That move was so obvious it showed that the purple-clad side wasn’t the only one holding back.
“I get it! I get it alright! I’m mad with Janus too. I’m not the enemy here Ro,” Virgil pleaded again.
Roman halted then and for half a second Virgil hoped that he’d gotten through to the creative side. But then he threw his head back and started laughing insanely.
“No… No you’re not,” he agreed, tears streaming down his face, his eyes wild and desperate, like a part of him was begging Virgil to… To what? Save him, stop him? “But you won’t let me go after him either will you?” he asked pointing his sword at him once again and cocking his head to the side expectantly.
Virgil wished he could say the truth in a way that wouldn’t make Roman feel like he was alone in this. “I can’t risk you getting hurt Roman.” It was the best he could do. Janus was not a pushover. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to deal with Remus for all those years.
And even aside from that… Virgil’s job was to protect. It was against his nature to allow any of the sides to come to harm. Even the ones he wanted to punch in the face on a daily basis. So he couldn’t let Roman hurt Janus either.
Roman scoffed and shook his head, not surprised. “Like you said, Virgil. You aren’t the enemy here… I am.” His face darkened and he locked their eyes. Roman’s smoldering like embers, the fire’s around them reflecting in them ominously. “So do your job Anxiety!” Roman commanded. Virgil felt his title cut trough him, sharper than Roman’s sword ever could
“Protect Thomas! Protect the others! Make sure that the mad king doesn’t cause any more chaos!”
Virgil shook his head, a tear finally escaping him. “I won’t! You’re not… Thomas needs you too!” he insists.
Roman’s face darkens, his insane smile turning to a sneer.
“Then let me pass, and know that what happens next will be on your hand!” he gowled as he charged. Virgil turned and darted around the corner. He’s faster than any other side and he needed to give himself some room to move. Once he was past the corner he turned around and saw Roman coming for him. They got halfway the hall with Virgil parying every blow. He wouldn’t risk letting his fight or flight instincts take over. He knew that the fight would be over in a second if he did. But he can’t guarantee Roman won’t get hurt in th process. So he can’t fight all out, he just can’t. Sadly Roman is done holding back.The only reason they are still evenly matched is because his mind is clearly all over the place.
He lacks focus, but he’s using all of his strength and that is what Virgil is struggling with. Once again, should he give his all, even to defend himself, he might lose control and find himself victorious over an injured friend. He has to protect Roman. Even from himself.
“Come on Edgar Alan Woe! If you keep holding back, you might lose. Who knows what I’ll do to the others if I were to go back? Or maybe Patton will come looking for you? It’s been a while already. Surely he’s worried about his ‘son’ by now! What will happen if he sees me striking you down? Will he be too shocked to defend himself when I come for him next?” Roman taunted. Something in Virgil stirred, and it must’ve shown in his eyes because Roman’s eyes lit up with eagerness. “I wonder if you’d still be conscious enough to watch me strike him down while he’s screaming your name.”
Virgil forced himself to stay alert. Roman wouldn’t, he’d never… He’d never hurt a friend. “He’s edging me on on purpose,” he reasoned trying to calm himself. “But I have to… I have to take a chance.” With that decision, Virgil charged in at last. Roman parried laughing gleefully. “That’s more like it!”
They danced around each other for a little while like that, tears now streaming down both their faces, though Virgil’s face was a mask of furious grief and Roman’s one of a desperate glee.
They remained in the middle of the hallway now that Virgil was done retreating the whole time and was jumping at Roman as often as he was jumping away and around him. Then, suddenly, Virgil stumbled over a fallen piece of debris and dropped his sword in the process. Roman took the opportunity to trap him against the wall and keep him in place with his sword to Virgil’s throat and his now empty hands trapped underneath the grip of Roman’s free left hand. Their faces were so close Virgil could see every spot of color in Roman’s eyes and feel his breath wash over his face.
Every part of him screamed to fight back but Virgil wouldn’t. Not unless he was absolutely sure that Roman was beyond saving.
Seconds passed and Roman did nothing. As if he was waiting for something.
Virgil’s last words? Roman was all for dramatics after all.
“Just do it!” Virgil sobbed, unashamed of the tears now. So he was crying? Who freaking cares!?
“I deserve it!” he told Roman and he meant it. He deserved it and so much worse.
Roman looked confused. “What…? What kind of trickery is this? I know you can do better! You haven’t even… Virgil, you never take anything lying down… What…?”
“I’m a failure alright!” Thomas’ protector confesses while sobs start wracking through his body. Oh, no. Virgil can feel the panic attack coming up. Breathe, he needs to breathe!
“I didn’t protect you and I can’t protect Thomas and… and… And everything is ruined because I just couldn’t stay where I belonged in the first place! None of this would’ve happened if I’d stayed downstairs!” The confession poured out through panicked sobs and Soon the room started spinning. He couldn’t… He didn’t get…
A clattering sound and then he was sitting down and his hand was resting on someone’s chest. He could feel the heartbeat underneath his fingers. It wasn’t calm exactly, but it felt warm and real.
He could feel something against his own chest as well. A hand perhaps? And there was a muted sound, a voice speaking.
He could feel the other’s chest moving in a rhythm that was tapped on his hand with the stranger’s hand that was holding his in place. 4,7,8… He knew that. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. He can do that.
Soon the voice becomes clearer and Virgil can tell it’s indeed a hand against his chest.
“You’re doing great V. Just breathe with me.” Roman… Roman sounded like himself again. Worried, but in a way that fit him.
Virgil blinked his eyes to try and get his vision to work again. It worked surprisingly well. He could see the relief on Roman’s face and the underlying traces of guilt. “There you are dark knight,” he smiled.
“Ro? You… You’re back?” Virgil asked tentatively. Roman bit his lip and nodded. He looked like he was going to say something but Virgil surprised him into silence by hugging him. “I knew you’d never actually hurt me,” he said in relief. Because, while he had been convinced his plan would work, he hadn’t been too sure about accidental injuries.
“Wait… You gave me the perfect opportunity to… On the off chance that I would come back to my senses when actually confronted with the possibility of actually…?”
Virgil rolled his eyes. “We both know that if it looked like you would actually use that thing against me,” Virgil pointed to Roman’s sword which was dropped right net to his own. “I could’ve kicked your ass, weapon, or none. Fight or flight instinct remember.”
Roman frowned unconvinced. “The panic attack?”
Virgil was thankful for the thick layer of foundation on his skin or his embarrassed blush would’ve given him away completely.
“Well… Okay, it was risky but it was all I had,” he allowed.
“In the end, what’s important is this. As far as you knew at the time, you had the perfect opportunity to get rid of your biggest threat, and you didn’t. You defeated your inner king and became the prince again to save me. You Roman. You are the hero.”
Roman was speechless for a few moments and then he looked down. His costume was returning to it’s previous red and white design. nd all around them he could hear the palace restore itself now that the Prince didn’t feel so broken anymore.
“You really trust me that much?” he asked perplexed.
Virgil shrugged. “Well, yeah. We’re a team now right?” he muttered embarrassed. Roman thought over those words for a moment, and then everything else that had happened that day right up until this point.
He let out a short, startled laugh. Followed by another, and another. And more and more followed one faster and louder than the other, soon it was unclear if he was laughing or crying. He threw himself into Virgil’s arms and cried his heart out, letting Virgil rub soothing circles on his back. There was much the two sides needed to talk about. And not just when it came to Roman. Virgin had been a little too convincing when asking for death to Roman’s liking.
For now, however, they just sought comfort in each other’s presence. If other sides were to approach the castle that night they’d find a guard standing out front that hadn’t been there when Virgil arrived. He’d sent them off with the message that the Prince is consulting his captain of the guard on urgent matters and that he wouldn’t be receiving any other visitors, nor would he be receiving other counsel for the time being. And he might not be ready for a long while.
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writefandoms · 4 years
Text
Led By the Nose
Alucard x Female!Reader
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Waking up to someone smiling down at you, would make your average person scream. Waking up to the vampire king smiling at you with a mouth full of fangs, would probably give them a heart attack.
Alucard does this often, watching you as you sleep waiting for your sleeping mind senses his intense stare and forces itself awake. The first twenty times he did it you screamed your heart out. Now you’ve learned to keep your mouth shut, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your fear.
“What do you want, Alucard?” You groaned, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. The glowing red eyes hold their stare, tilting upwards as his grin widens.
Peeking at your alarm clock the green numbers read 3:25 am.
“It’s three in the morning, I have to get up in a bit. Let me sleep.” You pulled the covers over your head, hoping to block the heat of his stare.
Feeling his presence leave, you peeked from the covers. He was gone. You thanked whatever higher power compelled him to leave and shut your eyes, letting sleep takeover once more.
You jumped as your window flew open, curtains blowing in the winter breeze. Groaning, you sluggishly stumbled out of bed to shut the window doors shut.
A white sheet flapping in the wind caught your eye, attached to the railing by a ribbon was a rolled up piece of paper. Careful to not let it blow away, you untied it and unrolled it. The only thing on the paper was a black arrow pointing upwards.
Confused, you looked up at your ceiling noticing nothing. Looking back down at the paper, you took a step closer to the window until you could peek your head outside. Tilting your head you peered up towards the night sky, your eyes instantly locking onto a large piece of clothing dangling from a tree branch above the estate.
Squinting at it the clothing it took you a second to realize what you were looking at. It was your jacket.
Silently cursing to yourself you ran over to your wardrobe. The wardrobe that was usually filled with your clothing and shoes was completely empty. If it wasn’t such an ungodly hour you would be screaming at the top of your lungs.
It was Alucard. There wasn’t even the slightest bit of doubt about that. But what did he do with all of them? Well you found your coat, so that’s a start. And still he seemingly left a note leading you to it, your best bet to finding the rest of your stuff probably has something to do with your jacket.
The roof was flat thankfully, and Alucard made sure to place your property on the tree branch closest to the ledge. Such a gentleman.
The leather was ice cold and would do you no good in this cold breeze. Running on a roof was probably not the best idea, but your fluffy robe was doing very little to warm you. Slamming the roof door shut you fumbled through the pockets of your jacket.
Inside the breast pocket was a small silver key. Knowing how impatient Alucard can be, you know he wouldn’t wait around for you to try and open every door in this huge ass building. So this is definitely a key to a box or something like that. There’s nothing of the sort in your room. So is there a box somewhere in the house he wants you to find?
“Fuck this!” You snap, stomping towards the mirror that leads to Alucard’s chambers. “I’m not playing his stupid games.” You were already going to be exhausted for work tomorrow thanks to him.
The mirror came into view when you rounded the corner. You could see your angry reflection glaring back at you. Not caring if you smudge the glass, you grip the side of the mirror, pulling it open revealing the dark staircase leading to the vampire kings “room”.
Making sure to stomp as loudly as possible down the stairs to make your presence known. As if the vampire didn’t already sense you when you left your room.
Reaching the bottom step, your met with an empty red throne. It’s shocking how much creepier the basement was, without the No Life King mocking you. But the thing that surprised you the most was the large chest sitting in front of his chair.
Walking up to closer, the details began more noticeable. Beautiful roses were drawn along the sides of the chest. Pull out the small key left in your jacket. You tried opening the chest, silently cheering when the key turned with a small click.
The contents of the chest were all of your missing clothing. They were all neatly folded, you half expected to find them balled up in a corner somewhere. Shutting it and locking it, you lifted the chest up tasting how heavy it was.
“Jesus” you groaned almost dropping it. “You couldn’t just put them into a plastic bag?”
It took you like half an hour to lift the heavy ass chest up the the first floor. Dragging it against the carpeted floors all the way to your room.
A small piece of red clothing quickly materialized through your door, entering your room. Anger towards the vampiric intruder fueled you to pull the chest faster to your room.
Flinging the door open you let the chest go, making a satisfying loud thud.
“Wait until Sir Integra hears about this, you asshole” you yell at the vampire sitting in your reading chair. The large grin and folded legs were enough to make you want to start swinging.
He sat quietly, which was rare, and waited. Taking a step into the room you kept your rampage going.
“The fuck you trying to do?! I’m gonna be exhausted tomorrow and-“ you paused once you spotted the flickering red candle by your bedside. Taking in your surroundings you noticed your room was full of candles.
“What’s all this?” You asked in awe. Alucard’s grin widened as he watched you examine your room.
Walking towards your bed, there were rose pedals scattered on the top. In the center of the roses was a thin black box.
“What is this?” He simply stared at you. Seeking the answer to your own question, you took the lid off the thin box.
Inside was lacy black material. Lift it in the air, letting it unfold itself in front of you. It was a one piece black lingerie, with a red trim. Underneath was two matching lace stockings. The material felt expensive, and looked it too.
“Okay, what the hell is going on?” Dropping the thin material back into the box, “You send me on a wild goose chase, hide all my clothes, and now this.” You gestured to the dimly lit room.
He unfold his legs and stands up, his figure towering over you. Crossing your arms, you waited for some sort of valid reason for all this nonsense.
“Intelligence isn’t your strong suit, is it?” He asked walking towards your bed. You snapped your head up to meet his mocking smirk, the flames in your eyes matching his.
He spoke clearly before you could speak. “Do you know what day it is?”
“Sunday”
“Date?”
“Not with the way you’ve been acting, you’re lucky I’m letting you stand in my room!”
He rolled his eyes at your misunderstanding, “No, I mean do you know what the date is?”
“It’s the 23rd.”
“As I thought, you can’t even keep track of a man made concept like time”
“You’re really talking like a man you doesn’t want to get laid” he laughed at your comment, leaning down close enough that you can feel his warm breath on your face. “It’s December 25th, you idiot.”
It took you a moment to register what he said.
“You’re right” you freaked. Not only did you forget it was bloody Christmas. But the vampire that you were ready to kill, actually took time to prepare you a present.
The grin returned to his face and he pulled you flush against his body. You meekly up at him, as his hands travelled to the small of your back.
“Shit” you groaned, “I’m sorry. I thought you were being an asshole, but this is actually a really sweet surprise.”
You scowled up at him, “Though it could of been done in a way that didn’t involve hiding my stuff.”
He laughed loudly, looking down at you with half lidded eyes. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Pushing out of his grasp, you grabbed your new lingerie. Grabbing him by his cravat, he allowed himself to be pulled down to your level.
“How about I show you my gratitude” you whispered into his ear, pulling back slightly to gouge his reaction. Looking deep in his sunset colored eyes, you can see his pupils turn into slits. An all too familiar look of hunger sparking in them.
“That may get me in the Christmas spirit.” His slender, gloved fingers were already quickly untying your nightgown.
(a.n. I strayed away from the request a bit, but I hope you like it!!)
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anyoneseenadam · 3 years
Text
The Moon Spirit - two
Dorian x reader, Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)
Description: When you’re taught to be a queen from such a young age, nothing could go wrong. But when the king starts to fear your growing power you find yourself thrust into a world of faeries, evil magic and powerful men, learning to stand on your own can be harder than it seems.
warnings: blood, graphic descriptions of violence, objectification, gross old men, Dorian is a ball of love and niceness however, angst, fluff, possibly smut in later chapters
word count: 2.9k 
a/n: oof the plans i have for this series omg!! i hope you like this pls comment and tell me what u think and also feel free to give any ideas/ theories i love getting that sm!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥
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Finding a place to get a drink was easier said than done.
You had ridden along the cold, barren road for hours – your only company being the birds singing above you, the horse moving below you and the small bundle of content wrapped in your arms who had fallen asleep in your arms in seconds, occasionally yawning widely. And through those hours you had met no one and seen no place to stop.
You eventually had to stop, exhaustion slowing you down. You moved off course and tied your horse to a tree next to a small stream, running a comforting hand through its mane as it drank slowly. You slowly stripped off as well, taking your time as you removed the blood-soaked layers from your skin. Once you were bare, shivering in the cool morning air, you stepped slowly into the stream – swearing enough to make a sailor blush.
However, you relented, running your hands over your skin, wiping away the guards’ blood with a heavy heart as the water turned pink. Your whole body ached, yet you were numb. Men were dead because of you, and - if he hadn’t already – Dorian would hear of your disappearance soon. And then the king would pick him a new bride, and you would be forgotten.
Just as intended.
Amaris was mewling behind you, hungry and cold, wondering why you had left. Or maybe that was just you, maybe you were projecting. You climbed out of the water, pulling your undergarments back on as you found a sunny patch to sit in, allowing the newly risen sun to cleanse away the remnants of the night, drying your skin slowly.
After half an hour of silent tears you picked yourself back up, pulling on your stiff clothes and climbing onto your horse as you set off again. You couldn’t just lie down and die, no matter how much you wanted to, you had to look after your last gift from Dorian, and you had look after yourself.
--
You ended up riding for hours more before you wandered into a small town. Dismounting, you led your horse through the town as you searched for a place to get food and maybe clean clothes, glaring down your nose at anyone who stared to long. Much like Dorian used to.
No. You tried to expel the thought of him from your head, not needing to be swept up in the thought of his forget-me-not eyes, nor did you need to remember that you may never get to look into them again.
What you needed was the tavern you could see at the end of the street.
You pushed through the street, ignoring the townspeople as you moved to the stables beside the tavern, giving your horse rest, food, and water. You hid Amaris in your coat as you moved into the tavern – back straight and head high as you walked.
The bar quietened down when you moved in, a small sprout woman pausing handing out drinks as she stared at you over a high skew nose. The bar smelt of sour whisky and piss, the surfaces barely visible beneath the dirt that covered every surface – the only source of light coming from tall candles that had been stuffed into wine bottles. The curtains over the windows were drawn tight, not allowing any other light in and the people in the bar all looked remarkably similar, tired. The woman behind the bar was petite, with a face alike a weasel and when she spoke you discovered her voice was just as shrill as you expected.
“And who do you think you are?” she moved in front of the bar, walking towards you as you levelled your gaze.
“I’m no one.” You replied, the answer vague enough that she hopefully wouldn’t try again.
“Then what do you want?” she was exasperated as she spoke, and you allowed yourself a moment of reprise as you glanced down at your clothes.
“A drink would be nice,” your voice was curt, tired. The small lady rolled her eyes, moving away as you approached the bar, allowing her to pour you a glass of cheap, hard liquor.
She slid it towards you, and you knocked it back quickly. “Do you also have fresh clothes and maybe some food for me and my cat?”
As she left with an eye roll, a man approached you, his hairline receding and breath fowl as he slung an arm around your shoulder, leaning far too close for your comfort as you trained your eyes forward.
“I can offer you a job,” he nodded his head and you looked over to see his eyes trained on the prostitutes in the corner, “I’ll even offer a free trial. To get you started.”
You felt panic rise like bile in your throat, your entire body tensing as you shoved this man’s arm of your shoulder. You calmed your face – unwilling to let any emotion show as you faced him.
“You couldn’t afford me,” you snarled, pushing down the heat growing in you as the curious eyes of the towns’ folk were once again turned on you.
“You bitch!” the man began shouting but was cut off by the shrill woman’s return. She unceremoniously dumped a pile of clothes in your lap, along with a small loaf and some fish, her gaze expectant.
You loosened the bracelet around your wrist, dropping it into her hand as she stared at the large jewels adorning it.
“That should cover it.” you muttered as you stood, keeping your gaze angry and forward as you shouldered past the burly man. You bundled the clothing and food in one hand, the other still holding Amaris tight to your chest as you left the dirty tavern.
You found your horse again, offloading the goods you had received into the worn satchels on its side – leading it out of the barn slowly, desperate to get out of this town.
--
Dorian was a mess.
He couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, could barely speak anymore. It was enough to lose you, but to then realise that his own father had driven you away. His own father had made you feel so unsafe in your own home that you couldn’t even run to him, his father had made you feel so completely isolated that your only choice was to flee.
Chaol was trying to coax him back into civilised life, his brother mourning the loss of his friend, yet itching to find you. And level-headed as always, Chaol knew that wouldn’t happen with Dorian spending his days drinking or in bed – often both.
But Dorian didn’t know how to cope, he didn’t know how to plaster on a smile and pretend everything was okay. That was your specialty.
Almost a month had passed, and you certainly were nowhere to be seen. You weren’t coming home anytime soon and he was going to have to learn how to live without you eventually.
Every morning he woke up, a part of him hoped it was a bad dream, that you would be asleep in his arms, or giggling and pressing dizzying kisses into his jaw. He hoped one day he would just wake up and you would wrap your arms tight around his shoulders, tell him it was just a nightmare and stroke his hair until he fell back asleep.
But he knew that couldn’t happen, that life wasn’t kind enough to return his bride to him and so instead he chose to numb his thoughts. He ignored the flirty eyes of other woman, unable to look at them in their expensive dresses and jewels without his mind returning to you.
Everyday that passed without you hurt that much more, so when he sat on his throne as Chaol approached him with a beautiful but deadly woman, he decided since he couldn’t have his perfect woman, he must find her opposite. He couldn’t be who he was before – so he must become someone new.
--
You weren’t faring much better. The day you had left the bar, you had ridden all the way to the coast of Terrasan and had climbed onto the first boat to Doranelle. By the time you arrived in the city you had just about sold anything of value on your person and all you had left to sell was the poor horse you had taken away.
By the time it was just you and Amaris, you had acquired a small flat in the city – the walls were bare and there was only simple furniture in it, the mattress on the floor next to large windows, and worn cushions on a makeshift sofa next to a wooden table.
Every night Amaris crawled into bed next to you, licking away salty tears from your face as you pulled the thin, scratchy sheet closer over you – hoping to replicate even a shred of Dorian’s warmth, or the feeling of his arms wrapped secure around your waist. Most nights you didn’t sleep, the bags growing under your eyes as your heart slowly numbed. Amaris would bury himself in the warmth of your chest as your eyes blurred, watching the city move outside of your flat – the noise subdued and calming.
On the third day in the new city you set out to find work, desperate to find something that could numb the thoughts in your mind and make the days easier. Plus you were sick of grabbing the easiest food you could find. You found yourself walking to a library, deciding it would be the perfect mixture of solitude and work for you. And it helped that you had spent most your life reading, many nights curled under Dorians arms as you read your separate books – occasionally reciting a line to the other.
The old man at the front of the library was kind, his face wrinkled from easy smiles, and you could understand why his long, long life seemed so pleasing. The bookshelves were tall, dizzyingly tall, and filled with countless books that you wished you could search through for hours. There were also tall, stained windows lining the walls, letting in the beautiful morning light and showing how the dust danced around the room.
“So what brings you here?” he asked, moving around the desk he sat at and motioning for you to take a seat on the small, cushioned seats next to him.
You sat down gently, back straight but keeping your eyes trained on your neatly folded hands. “I need work, sir. I have very good qualifications and have been educated by the best.”
He laughed slightly at that, “That much is clear, my child. But I asked what brings you here? What is your story?”
You looked up to meet his eyes, unable to stop the pain that they revealed, and he took your hands gently in his warm ones, “The world has treated you poorly I see.”
You felt tears build in your eyes – this kindness so alien to your battered heart you couldn’t help yourself as you let out a soft sob. The man smiled kindly at you, squeezing your hands gently as he urged you to talk to him.
“I was f-forced to leave the man I loved,” you choked out, “his father tried to… hurt me.” Your explanation was an over-simplification, but you feared what may occur if you revealed the truth.
“Was he your mate?” the man asked kindly, and you shook your head.
“I am not Fae,” you explained, and he frowned, passing you his handkerchief as he stood.
“Are you sure about that?” he asked, retrieving a small, hand-held mirror, and handing it to you. You took it with a confused expression before looking in, gasping under your breath as you saw your ears had taken on a delicate point.
“I, I don’t- that’s not possible.” You shook your head, eyes wide as they met his.
“Where do you come from child?” he voice was gentle as he took in your shock.
“Adarlan.” You whispered and he smiled sympathetically.
“Then I believe a glamour has been removed recently.” You could feel yourself shaking, the weight of the knowledge hitting you. “Let me take a name dear, you can start work tomorrow, we’ve been needing some extra hands around here.”
“(y/n) (y/l/n)” your voice was small as you stood, shaking his hand lightly. “Thank you so much.”
“It’s no problem and remember when you work you can have a read through any book you like. Aisle sixteen contains many on the ancient spirits.” He looked down to your necklace pointedly and you bit your tongue so hard you tasted blood, desperate to not reveal any more than you already had.
“Thank you…” you trailed off and he smiled,
“Albert,” he finished for you. “And make sure to take care on your way home, this city is filled with powerful people, you would be smart to not mix with them.”
You nodded, pocketing the information in your mind, ready to add it to your list of rules.
--
Fenrys was tired. He had just gotten home from a month-long mission and all he wanted was to sleep, however he wasn’t quite ready to face Maeve yet and instead he decided to take a trip to his favourite library before she realised he was back.
He was walking in when he saw you, your eyes red but hopeful and he almost fell over at the sight of you. You were wearing common clothes but held yourself like royalty, head high and gaze ready to tear down a man who so much as looked at you wrong.
What he did next he wasn’t exactly proud of, but he needed an excuse, so he was willing to play his hand a bit. “Excuse me miss, do you happen to know where I could find the tilted goose?” your eyes widened when you saw him, fuelling his ego slightly.
He knew where the tilted goose was of course, it was one of his favourite bars, but you didn’t have to know that.
“Oh yeah, it’s just down this way. I’m walking that way I’ll show you,” your voice was like music to his ears, and he smiled, revelling in how you avoided his gaze, clearly intimidated by his stature.
“Thank you so much…?” he asked, and you smiled, softly, subdued.
“(y/n),” you stared walking in the correct direction, and he grinned.
“Beautiful name for a beautiful lady. Fenrys.” He placed a hand to his chest as you laughed lightly.
“Quite a flirt aren’t you?” you asked, eyes sparkling.
“Can’t help myself, I’m not sure I’ve ever met such a beautiful woman.” He looked down to you as he fell into step beside you, noticing that you were taking a much longer way than needed. “You new here?”
“How’d you tell?” your tone was self-deprecating, and he laughed.
“This way takes about five minutes longer.” He stated and you whirled around, pointing a finger accusingly.
“You know how to get there.” He felt his face heat up as he raised his hands sheepishly.
“Maybe…” he grinned, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes as you began to storm off.
“See you around princess!” he called after you, almost missing the way your shoulders stiffened momentarily before you called over your shoulder.
“You’d be so lucky!” you replied, pace quickening as he watched you climb a set of stars that led to some run-down apartments.
He laughed, the smiled on his face coming naturally and surprising him. Oh his life was about to get much better.
--
You shouldn’t have enjoyed the pretty man’s company. And you hated yourself for it.
But he was so kind and for five minutes he made you feel normal again, loved again. See you around princess! The words wouldn’t stop replaying in you head. You weren’t allowed to be a normal girl; you were a princess, and you were on the run, and you definitely had no time for handsome men who flirted with you.
You couldn’t betray Dorian like that, he was probably waiting for you to come home. And you planned to. You would build your strength and you would learn to fight, and you would tear the king to shreds.
But for now, you had to settle for getting through each day, and that meant you had no time for handsome distractions. As you steeled your nerves you felt the loneliness settle on your shoulders, wrapping around you like a shadow, and you fought to reach deep inside yourself, finding the sliver of magic that was curled up – dormant – inside of you.
You found it and fought to awaken it, only receiving a shard of the true power. You stood in front of the dirty mirror in your bathroom, taking in your newly pointed ears and watching as your necklace glowed gently, your eyes turning silver as you released a small amount magic, watching as the bright light shattered the mirror in front of you.
Your eyes widened at the loud noise and with a flinch the magic was gone, the only proof it was even there was the shattered mirror in front of you.
You stared back at the cracked reflection and squared your shoulders. You were going to train, you were going to fight, and you were going to win. Even if it broke you.
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springday-aus · 4 years
Text
SVT’s Jeonghan: Love, War and Everything Between || prologue
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Fic Piece Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus​
Moodboard Link: Created by Admin Grandpa
Character Pairing Y/N [fem. reader] and Seventeen’s Yoon Jeonghan
Other Characters: Nu’est’s Baekho [known as Dongho], Seventeen [Seungcheol and Jisoo, along with idiot squad!Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Seungkwan], and more to be added along the way! 
Genre: historical, romance, drama, royal!au, arranged marriage!au + gender role reversal
None of this historically accurate. It is purely fiction!
Type: series 
part 01 || part 02 || part 03 → to be available! check the progress on our upcoming page! 
Word Count: approx. 1.4k 
Plot Summary: Korea’s most distinguished military general arrives home, carrying back glory and honor from the war. However, the general has been revealed to be a woman! Due to the prominent military accomplishments you have made as the highest ranking general, by orders of the Empress, you are arranged to be married to the second-eldest prince, Yoon Jeonghan. Only one problem lies between you two: your reputation as a ruthless killing machine, which scares the living daylights out of your new husband. 
→ Inspired by: the Chinese drama called Oh My General (also known as General Above I Am Below) 
Warnings: graphic violence, glorified war, murder, sexual harassment, sex discrimination (mainly against women), poly-relationships (i.e. concubines), political corruption, and homosexual tendencies
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Chaos.
War. 
The two are practically one in the same—at least, in the context of a battlefield. 
The wind continues to blow softly, tracing along the blades of the grass and lightly brushing the dust off from the dry patches on the land. In the sky, Korea’s flag flutters, with its colors reflecting onto the ground from the skylight, and the stand is firmly grasped in Dongho’s hands. 
The sun radiates throughout the field, shining against the bright blue armor of your soldiers and the highlands that stretch out. The hills go on for miles—not even you could detect another city in sight, meaning civilians are safe from harm. 
It’s a clear field, you note. Open land is best for battles—it means there is a lesser chance of traps from those who have higher ground and even less of an opportunity for sneak attacks. 
Despite this fact, you remain on guard. There is no telling as to what can happen because, one wrong move and everything, and anything, can easily fall apart. 
The silence is deafening as you and your army await for the enemy. 
A familiar shout is heard from across the field. The ground trembles as their cavalry arrives, but you and your men stand your ground. Many soldiers in armor, embellished with bright red and yellow silks, start to fill the landscape. They halt within three miles away and part for the man himself, General Yang. 
He sits on his horse, looking with nothing short of arrogance with a smug smirk tugged on his lips. With a draw of his sword, he lets out a roar with his men. You, on the other hand, are unable to hide your irritation at their behavior. 
“General!” he shouts. The opposition quieted down. He continues. “It’s an honor to meet you on the battlefield once more! However, it is a shame that nothing can save you now!” 
“General Yang!” you greet. “Let’s skip the pleasantries! Only one will survive and it will not be you!” Without looking back at your soldiers, you give your command. “Anyone who retreats will be beheaded on the spot!” 
“Yes, General!” 
The archers stretch their bows; the foot soldiers aim the cannons and Dongho passes your ax. The drummers pound the drums. 
“CHARGE!” 
Everything blurs as your foot soldiers charge themselves forward, swiftly moving past you with their swords drawn. The hooves pound against the ground and battle cries are heard from all directions. Metal clashes with metal; screams of pain and agony are ring throughout. They eventually stop—their bodies falling still, with gaping stab wounds that are beyond repair. 
Despite being surrounded by the chaos, you can only focus on General Yang himself—who is growing angrier as his men begin to fall, one by one. Without hesitation, he charges towards you. With a kick of your heel, your horse starts up and accelerates its speed—its rein on one hand and your ax firmly grasped in the other. The wind blows against your face, dancing along with the fabric that peaks shyly from underneath your armor. You easily slaughter those in enemy colors who block your pathway, leaving countless men dead at the mercy of your feet. 
The two of you meet towards the center, circling around as the bloodbath occurs in the background. Yang’s head is held high and his hand has a strong grip on his sword, which is drawn towards you. 
“General (Y/L/N),” he says with baring teeth. “Today is the day you will die.” 
You smirk at his brash statement. “How foolish of you to assume a devil can die.” 
His snarl only grows before swiftly swinging his sword towards your direction. You easily dodge his swing, leaning your back onto the horse and letting the wind blow past. He manages to thrust the sword again, only for it to be collided with your ax. He tries to aim towards your hands, in a pathetic attempt to push the weapon out of your hand, but fails to do so. Repeatedly. 
Your ax scrapes against his sword, blocking every hit he directs towards you. Having known him for the past six months—at least, in battle—you know his techniques. He’s such a caveman, so impulsive; ah, men... they really are too simple of creatures. 
Your smirk grows at his miserable attempt to dominate over you. With one twist of your wrist and a shove from your shoulder, his sword rolls out of his grasp and falls onto the ground. In one swift motion, you point your ax directly to his chest and pull out the sword from the side, pressing it against his jawline—giving it a small nick, just because you can. 
“You can surrender and survive,” you say. “Or you can continue this ridiculous war and lose your life.” 
His jaw clenches, trying to keep his breath calm. “Never. I refuse to be with the losing side.”
“Oh, Yang,” you say. “Dying as you lived: prideful.” 
“Men have pride and honor.” 
“And the same pride and honor shall be the cause of your downfall.” 
With those words, you pierce your ax into his chest and watch as he stills. Within a second of your attack, you rip the weapon out of his chest and slice his neck for reassurance. He falls off his horse and hits the ground with a grunt, spitting out the blood that blocks his airways. He struggles to keep his breath steadily; eventually, he falls once more and his entire body stills. 
His second-in-command, who spots his general on the ground, immediately provides orders. 
“RETREAT! THE GENERAL IS DOWN!” He pulls on his horse, turning himself and the other soldiers, the ones who are still alive, back to their home base. “RETREAT!” 
You sit perfectly still on your horse, watching the enemy all flee like the cowards they are. No one attempts to even look at you—nevertheless, aim towards you. Dongho returns to your side and, without a word, takes the bloody sword out of your hand. 
As they continue to flee, you hear the familiar drum beat echo throughout the field—slowly getting louder and louder as the field empties. You raise your battle ax and your men cheer in the sweet, sweet victory. 
With one hand up, they are silenced. 
“Do not forget the fellow soldiers who have fallen. We shall honor their memory with this victory. But, with this, we must remember: the battle may be over, but the war has not been won.”
“Yes, General!”
You turn to Dongho. “Let’s head back to celebrate.” 
He smiles in response. “Let’s go home.” 
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The news of General (Y/L/N)’s success travels quickly, getting to the city’s capital as soon as possible, while the military were on their way back. The messenger races against time, swiftly moving across the country, galloping on his horse to get the message to the King. 
On the other hand, in the heart of the city’s capitol, the King sits on his throne, which is located above the officials. His mother, the Empress, sits behind him—practically hiding behind a curtain of gold that cuts her off from the others in the gathering room. While she may have more experience and wisdom, she is still just a woman. 
They were currently trying to figure out how to solve the natural disaster issues that had struck earlier this week. The flood had struck all at once a couple of days ago and the King found himself in a disadvantageous position, primarily with the citizens of Seoul who were demanding answers. The officials weren’t of any help either; each of them were simply trying to benefit themselves. 
The King rubs his temple as the officials endlessly argue over who should be taxed and where the money should be going: the villagers or the palace? 
With all this noise, he cannot think. 
Almost as if it was an answered prayer, the messenger arrives on his horse at the door. As he steps off and heads into the room, practically running down the aisle. The officials’ chatter dies down. 
The messenger bows, holding out the news in his hands. “Greetings to your majesty.” 
“Accepted, proceed.” 
He straightens up, opening the scroll to present to the King, along with the officials. “I bring news from the battlegrounds. We have won another battle and General Yang has been killed.” 
The crowd of officials murmur amongst themselves, practically in shock from the success. Even the King is pleasantly surprised. While your family has an excellent military lineage, you have certainly outdone yourself. 
“However,” the messenger continues, before anyone can celebrate prematurely. “General (Y/L/N) advises to keep an eye on the Chinese military since about half of Yang’s army have still survived, including his military council. Until then, the general and his army are currently on the road back to the capital.” He bows towards the King once more, before making his exit towards his horse to alert the others at their original home base. 
Once the messenger clears, a high-ranking official, Official Kwon, steps out from the left. “Your majesty.” 
“Accepted, proceed.” 
“Because you have promoted General (Y/L/N) to his position, we have successfully taken back control of our borders. What would you like for us to focus on next?” 
His majesty lets out a small sigh, slightly tilting his back further into the seat as he ponders. “We need to strategize ourselves politically,” he says. “Surely, King Wu will want to arrange a meeting soon. The question I pose is about how we shall approach it.” 
A mid-ranking official, Official Chun, steps out from the right, keeping distance from Official Kwon. “Your majesty.” 
“Accepted, proceed.” 
“I suggest we wait for the invitation,” he says. “If he suggests a meeting, I recommend that we have the meeting at our palace and prepare the soldiers for a possible attack.” 
Another high-ranking official, Official Song, steps out from the left. “Your majesty.” 
“Accepted, proceed.” 
“Official Chun is correct because we should prepare for a counter-attack. However, he is also wrong because we might focus too much on our capital and that could lead to the endangerment of the border.” 
Chun, in silent response, gives Song a side-look that is nothing short of annoyance. 
The King nods silently, awaiting for any other ideas the officials might want to contribute to the conversation. The officials’ heads remain bowed down, anticipating for the King’s response. 
“Song is correct,” he says. “We must prepare ourselves for any possible attack.” He pauses. “However, we should wait for General (Y/L/N) and Military Counselor Kang to arrive, before we officially decide.” 
“Your majesty,” Official Kwon says. 
“Accepted, proceed.” 
“Since the general and counselor are returning after three years, shall we prepare a parade in their honor?” 
“Yes, we shall,” the King says. “After all, these two have sacrificed themselves for our country. A parade is the least we can do.” He lets out a sigh; the others are unsure if it’s one of relief or apprehension. “Because, without those two men, I am afraid of what the consequences may be.” 
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A/N: As always, thank you for reading the prologue! If you want to know about updates, please check the upcoming page! 
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lokischambermaid · 4 years
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Teach Me (Commodus x Reader)
Following Roma Victor over Germania, you are tasked with supporting the new Emperor in learning the art of lovemaking.
Based on @jokerflecker’s Commodus Ask, whereby an Emperor has concubines who teach him the art of love. We theorised that, when it comes to becoming an Emperor, it’s considered as important of a trait as sword fighting and horse riding. Also, I referenced The Most Skilled Tongue in Rome, which is @jokerflecker’s brainchild and is now widely accepted as canon ;)
WARNING: Not much smut!! I’m serious. When I’m writing Commodus, he does whatever TF he wants. And he wanted long drawn-out scenes with lots of character-building and only implied smut. I KNOW! I’m shooketh. And, he seemed to want some explanations of what happened in Germania, from his perspective. So not much smutting… you have been warned.
ACTUAL WARNING: Mentions of death, and there is a scene where Marcus is deceased. May be triggering if you are grieving.
Tag list: @darknessisafriend @suspended-in-duskk @winterjasmine007@dreamingmaria @reginasansrex​ @ithinkimaperson​ @prettyxlittlexpsychoxprincess @iamthewifeofwilliamthatcher​
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“The Emperor requests your presence, my Lady.”
You were awoken by a member of the Pretorian Guard around midnight. You couldn’t imagine what Marcus Aurelius would want with you at this hour.
He had barely acknowledged you at the victory soiree that evening, until he followed you into a side room and, peering through velvet, croaked, “I trust you are keeping your promise.”
You had bowed out of respect. “Caesar. Yes, your majesty. I am teaching Commodus everything he needs to know to become Emperor.”
Marcus considered you his son’s private tutor. Commodus, however, considered you his second-in-command.
The old king furrowed his brows. “Well. He will need you now. More than ever.” With that, he disappeared. Commodus had followed soon after, a large smile on his face.
“My Lady! He will announce it this evening. I’m sure of it.”
Something felt off. You didn’t know what. “Perhaps… perhaps he will do it tomorrow, my Lord. Or in the coming days. I’m certain he wants to give the soldiers their day in the sun.”
He smiled as he stepped through the swathes of material separating you. You were now face to face. “You are so wise, Y/N. You are right.” His voice was dripping with…. something. An emotion you couldn’t pinpoint. One that felt deeply unsavoury. Inappropriate, even.
You cleared your throat. “Yes, Your Highness. It’s my duty to provide you with guidance, after all.”
“Y/N, please. We are alone. Please don’t call me that.” His voice was low. A whisper. He smiled tenderly. A Pretorian Guard entered the room and announced that Commodus was requested by the Emperor. A look of boyish excitement spread through his face. You could read his thoughts: It’s my time.
Commodus didn’t reappear. The party died down. And, tired from your journey to Germania with Commodus, you had turned in for the evening. Whatever Commodus learned from Marcus could wait until tomorrow.
Or so you thought.
And here you were. A Pretorian Guard had called for you. The Emperor wanted to see you.
You followed the guard through the corridors of the beautiful space. You were asked to wait outside until the Emperor was ready for you. You had just spoken with Marcus before you went to bed. What on earth would he want with you now?
You listened to the conversation happening inside the room. You recognised Commodus’ voice instantly.
“Ameen with me, brother. Our great father is dead.”
Your eyes widened at his words. How could Marcus be dead? You spoke to him only hours ago.
The guard eyed you intently. You straightened your back, acted stoic, and pretended you weren’t listening to every sound in that room.
You heard everything.
The surgeon said his breath gave out as he slept. He felt no pain.
A long silence.
Your Emperor asks for your loyalty, Maximus.
And then.
Take my hand. I offer it only once.
Followed by mutters.
You heard Maximus shouting in the distance.
Closer to you, you heard two hard slaps. Followed by Lucilla’s voice.
Hail Caesar.
Quintos walked past you. He told the guard, “It’s done.”
Quintos turned to you and nodded. “My Lady.”
Your eyes became wet. Marcus was dead. And you had every certainty who’s hands he died at.
You gasped and jumped in shock when the curtain opened. You turned to see Commodus standing there. His eyes were brimming with tears. He wore a distant, dissociative expression.
“My father is dead.” He spoke matter-of-fact. “Come.”
He turned his back and you followed him. He walked you through what must have been the quarters of Marcus. It looked palatial. Statues. Gold. Fine materials. And there, on the bed, lay Marcus. You stopped. Commodus turned when he realised you were no longer following him. You couldn’t take your eyes off Marcus. It was surreal.
“You wish to pay your respects. You may.” He gestured towards the bed.
You nodded in response to Commodus, while you continued staring straight ahead. Slowly, you walked towards the late Emperor. You felt a gentle hand on your back. Commodus.
“It’s a shock. I know.” His voice was gentle. Still, you daren’t look at him.
Slowly, you sunk to your knees. You prayed. Commodus knelt with you. Silently, he thanked the Gods for your grace. For your love towards his father. For your respect. Your loyalty. You rose to your feet. You placed a hand over the still hand of Marcus. Silently, you promised to help his son.
You turned to Commodus. He was Emperor now. Should you kiss his ring? Or curtsey? Frankly, he looked as though he needed a hug. He sensed your uncertainty.
“Come. We will rest in private.” He placed a gentle hand on your upper arm, stroking it. He offered you a small smile.
She looks terrified. She knows. She most certainly knows.
“Here. Take my arm.” He tilted his chin up proudly. He looked down at you through long, dark eyelashes.
You slipped your hand through his arm, smiling. You felt relief. He was still Commodus. The one you knew so well. He smiled proudly as he led you through to a private room.
He poured you both some wine, handing you a goblet. You hesitated before sipping. You looked at him, waiting for him to drink.
“I assure you, it’s not poisoned.” He gave you a smirk, like he always did when he made a bad joke. But this felt different. A little more sinister. Or were you imaging it?
You looked him in the eye. And you sipped.
“My father always said, you were my tutor,” he began, pacing. He spoke authoritatively. After all, he was Caesar now. “But you should know, Y/N, I have always viewed you as more than that.” He turned to you. He licked at the corner of his mouth, a habit he had when he felt nervous. “Do you feel that, too, Y/N?”
You were frozen still. You couldn’t answer him. Not without knowing for certain.
“Commodus.” You straightened your back, mustered all of your courage. You stepped towards him. “You value honesty. As do I. Honesty, respect and love – they are inextricably linked. So tell me the truth, now. What happened?”
His eyes fluttered. Excessive blinking was a sure sign of his discomfort. His eyes glanced to the makeshift door. Made only of layers of fabric, it was far from soundproof. He lowered his voice.
“I have a feeling you already know.”
Your skin blistered with fear. Still, you spoke with courage.
“So you did. You did it.”
“It wasn’t… it wasn’t planned.” He continued to whisper. “I assure you.”
Was a spontaneous murder any better? You thought not.
“He was to give my powers over to the General. He wanted Rome to become a Republic. I could not let that happen. You understand, don’t you?”
You had frozen again. Were you even safe with him now?
“You’re afraid of me?”
“No.”
“Y/N. Tell me the truth.”
“A little, yes. And there are few things that frighten me.”
“Is there anything I can do to place your mind at ease?”
“Tell me. Tell me how.”
He nodded. He understood. He explained in gestures only. No words were required. He gestured to someone on their knees in front of him. He placed his hands apart, although he was placing his hands either side of someone’s face. He moved his hands towards his stomach. His hands moved now, as though they were at the back of this person’s head. You noticed as his face contorted in anguish. He pushed his hands inwards, as though he was forcing their head into his body. As he did so, he collapsed to his knees and started crying.
You dropped to the ground to be beside him. “Commodus… Commodus…”
He cried hysterically. His eyes contained equal amounts of grief, guilt, shame, and regret. You held him until his tears subsided. You stoked his hair, which soothed him. He felt like a child in your arms. Lifetimes away from the Emperor he had become. You remembered your promise to his father. I will help him become a better man.
“Commodus. You called for me. I sense there is something you wanted to ask of me.”
He looked up at you. His deep, dark eyes were full of emotion.
“Here,” you whispered, giving him your hand and helping him to his feet.
“I… I should be offering my hand to you,” he sniffed. He was trying to be better already.
He looked around the space and saw two large chairs next to a table. They were positioned close to a map of the empire.
“Let us sit here, in peace, together.”
Whether it was an offer or a command, either way you followed him to the table. He pulled out a chair for you, and you sat. He picked up a large throne-like chair – it was surely his fathers – and placed it down close to you. He angled the chair to face you. You repeated the motion. He sat, you both facing one another.
“I have a gap in my knowledge,” he started. “It appears that… after all my training, we have… we have missed one vital element.”
You furrowed your brows. You had covered everything. Whatever was he referring to?
His cheeks flushed as he leaned in and dropped his voice several volumes lower. “We seem to have missed… the last chapter.” He gave you a knowing look, as if this would mean something to you.
What you did know is only this… that he referenced the book his father had given you both, penned by Marcus Aurelius himself. It covered all essential elements of becoming the ruler the Empire needed. But you had diligently covered every chapter, in detail, several times over.
“The final chapter, my Lord – is Governance of the Senate. We covered this. And, I suspect it’s not something you wish to keep in any case.”
He looked confused now. “N-no. No, Y/N. The last chapter. Surely you know what I’m referring to.” He glanced down, his eyelashes fluttering. His cheeks flushed once more. “Must I say it?”
You placed a caring hand on his face. “I’m afraid you’ll have to.” You had no idea what he was talking about.
His mouth moved open as if to speak. No words came out. “Excuse me.”
He rose from his seat. Was he leaving? He walked over to his father’s book shelves, running his fingers along the spines until he found the one he searched for. He removed it, dusting off the front cover. He licked his fingers and thumbed the pages. He placed it down in front of you.
“This one.”
Chapter XVI: The Art of Love
You looked up at him. You had never seen this before.
“This wasn’t in my book,” you said simply.
“W-well… why would… why would he remove it?” Commodus was just as confused as you were. “May I sit?” He was extra polite all of a sudden. You nodded. He sat.
He took your hands in his, ever so gently. “I… I was waiting. I was waiting for us to reach this chapter. I wondered if I must pass a test of some kind in order for me to reach this stage.”
You looked at him earnestly. “Commodus. I didn’t know. But, now I do… please tell me what you need.”
He mustered all of his courage and tilted his head proudly. “Would you teach me?” He gulped down on the fear in his throat. “Would you teach me the art of pleasure?”
You nodded. “Yes.” You picked up the book. Turned the first page of the final chapter. You passed it back to him. “Read it to me.” You had no idea if this was ever supposed to be form of his father’s curriculum. Frankly you were making it up as you went along. And besides, Commodus was Emperor now. His command was for this chapter to be fulfilled. And his command would be obeyed.
He held the book and looked up at you over its pages. He read aloud. “There comes a time in a young man’s life when he turns the corner from boy to man. When it comes to ruling an Empire, it is just as essential to be versed in the art of love, as it is to finesse the skills of swordsmanship and proficiencies on horseback. By refining his skills in love, the young Emperor will ensure a steady line of suitors, the best in the Empire, and will rightly secure an heir.” He looked up at you with trepidation.
You took the book from him and placed it down on the table. You closed it. “That was what your father wanted.” You leaned in further. “But what do you want?”
He grinned fiendishly. He leaned in further. Your mouths were a mere inch apart. “I will have the most skilled tongue in all of Rome. They will talk about it. Whispers will form in the palace hallways, and make their way into the alcoves of the Senate. They will titter and talk in the bustle of the town and in the sand of the Colosseum. They will wonder if it is true. Men will envy me. And women will desire me. And…” he paused, wetting his lips with his tongue. “…the future Empress will be satisfied every night of her life.”
You gulped down hard. Over the years you had witnessed his dedication to honing his craft on horseback, of studying every detail of empire governance, and of course refining his skills with his sword. You had no doubt this diligence and dedication would spill over into his next endeavour. This future Empress would be fortunate indeed.
“Are you not…” you paused, your breathing increasing without your consent. “Are you not already skilled in the art of pleasure?” You had heard laughter and moans from his chambers as concubines came and went in the evening. You were certain he was no virgin.
“Yes. But in the art of receiving pleasure only. I will learn how to give pleasure. Would you teach me?” His eyes dropped to your mouth, and back up to your eyes. A feeling stirred between your legs.
“Yes.”
He stood authoritatively. “Good. We will remain in Germania for the next week. We will congratulate our men. Ensure the armies are in good order. Well fed. Healthy. Fit for return to their homes. You and I, we will bathe, we will treat our skin with the finest oils, we will rest and eat well. And ensure we are fit to return to Rome. And you, you will remain by my side.”
It was most certainly an order.
You stood. Gently, you picked up his hand in yours, and placed your lips on the ring. You closed your eyes with devotion, missing the expression of your Emperor as you did so. He was full of adoration at your gesture.
“Please. Rise.”
You stood. He smiled. And he turned to leave.
“Commodus?” You called after him.
The Emperor turned. You stepped forward.
“What happened to the General? I must know.”
He stood up straight. “I ordered him executed.”
Well. Shit.
With a nod, he was gone.
***
“Commodus… I’m exhausted.”
He had been practicing since morning. Through the small windows of the carriage, you could see the sun starting to set. You were traveling back to Rome from Germania. You were both looking much more tidy. Freshly bathed, with the oils he had promised for your skin. The new Emperor was now cleanly-shaven, with short hair, ready for his arrival back in Rome.
“But I want to get it right.” He said, looking up at you from in between your legs. His hands cupped underneath your thighs. “I must get it right.”
It was an odd statement from a man who had made you come from morning until dusk, but he was obsessive in his search for excellence and would not be stopped.
“My darling boy…” You gave him a ‘come hither’ movement with your fingers. Obediently, he stood. “While you have mastered the art of your tongue. I must confess. The art of pleasure is not simply mechanical.”
He frowned. Wasn’t it? He listened intently to your next words.
“It’s not only the movement of your tongue and your fingertips, skilled though they are. It’s about the art of… seduction.”
Ahhh…
A look of realisation spread across his face.
“Seduce me.”
He froze. Then, he stood up proudly. You closed your legs and lay back on the day bed, awaiting your seduction.
He spoke loudly. “I am the Emperor. And I command you to become weak in my presence.”
Your eyes glanced up into your head. You frowned.
“No. No that wasn’t it, was it…” He placed a hand on his stomach self-consciously. He looked down at the ground of the carriage, searching it for answers. He cleared his throat.
“You will lie back… as I ravish you. Again… and again…” He spoke softly now and narrowed his eyes. “And again.”
“Better,” you told him honestly.
“What am I missing?” He asked, scurrying onto the day bed, leaning over you. He looked into your eyes. You shifted in place.
“Well… you are more seductive right now. When you’re not… trying so hard.”
“Then, what should I do?” He asked keenly.
“Simply…” you shrugged. “Do whatever you would like to do… if I was someone you wanted to make love to. If I was someone you longed for. Ached for. If I was someone in your fantasies. If I was someone who were in love with.”
Does she know…?
His lower lip trembled. He nodded. “Yes. Yes of course.”
Slowly, he lifted up his right hand. He moved it up towards your face, ever so slowly. He kept his eyes on your lips as he did so. He whispered to you in one breath, “Open your mouth.” Your chest rose and fell as you parted your lips for him. He continued eying you intently, as though you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Painfully slowly, he swept a trembling finger over your lower lip. Then, he swept his finger under your top lip. His eyes moved to his fingertips now, as he lifted his digits to his lips. He kept his fingers perfectly still, so as not to waste even a cell of your taste. He placed the pad of his middle finger in his mouth. He closed his eyes as he tasted you. A look of pure, genuine, unadulterated ecstasy engulfed his features.
He opened his eyes. Your mouth had fallen further open. Your eyes were wide. Your chest continued to rise and fall rapidly. He moved his hand back towards your face, brushing your cheek with the back of his fingertips. He leaned in, his lips moving towards yours into a kiss. You tilted your chin to meet him. An inch from you, he stopped. He didn’t kiss you. He rested his head on your chest now. He stroked the soft silk of your dress. And then, he spoke.
“And how was that?”
You mumbled. Words were too difficult to form. Commodus positioned himself fully over you now, his legs straddling you.
“Would it please the Empress, do you think?”
“I-I… I’m certain it would, yes.” Your lower lip trembled with desire.
He smiled lovingly.
She doesn’t know.
“Allow me to rephrase.” He brushed his thumb over your lower lip. “Did it please you?”
You nodded. “Y-yes.”
“Then it pleased the future Empress.” The warmth of his emotions was palpable.
“I’m… I’m not certain I understand.”
“Please, Y/N.” He brushed a strand of hair from your face and tucked it behind your ear. “You have always known I wanted you beside me. For how long have I called you my second-in-command?”
“For as long as I can remember.” You smiled with him now. It was all becoming clear.
“And what else would you call an Emperor’s second-in-command?”
“An Empress.”
He placed his lips on yours, kissing you for the first time. When your lips parted, he spoke simply.
“We will arrive in Rome in two weeks. I would very much like you by my side during my coronation.”
You smiled mischievously. “Well. It seems we should ensure we have practiced sufficiently to ensure you have all the skills befitting of an Emperor.”
He laughed as he kissed you again and lifted up the hem of your dress.
“As long as the Empress is pleased, I am deserving of the title of Caesar…”
His words trailed off as his mouth met your centre.
Your moans of pleasure could be heard all the way to Rome.
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come-on-shitty-boys · 4 years
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//evening petals. yamaguchi tadashi//
Request: Hi! I just wanted to say that I absolutely LOVE your writing you’re one of my favorite imagine accounts 🥺💕 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with Yamaguchi where he’s like a prince and he throws a masquerade ball and him and the reader start falling for each other and stuff if that’s ok 🥺😔👉🏼👈🏼
Warnings: brief mentions of premarital holding (i know i know.  I’m filthy)
Word Count: 2.5K
Notes:  Me, pulling out all of the obscure knowledge I’ve gained from reading stupid amounts of Victorian era British literature:      👁👄👁
*18th Century Royalty AU?  18th Century Royalty AU.*
This was the last way that Yamaguchi Tadashi wanted to spend his 21st birthday, but he understood.  He was a prince after all.  It was necessary for him to find a wife to sit next to him on the throne, but seriously?  Today of all days?
His parents and the royal staff had been planning this ball for weeks, so it’s not like Yamaguchi could just refuse.  Everyone had worked so hard to make this evening special for him and he didn’t want to seem ungrateful.  It was wonderful, really.  Seeing the ballroom of the palace graced in beautiful candlelight, the curtains drawn back so the rose gardens were visible in the slowly approaching dusk, hundreds of people littered around the room, socializing with one another. 
The masks, especially.  It was other-worldly to him.  He probably knew many of the nobles in the room, but with their faces obscured behind the beautifully crafted accessories, he felt like just another person in the room.  For once in his life, he didn’t feel like Prince Tadashi.  He was just- Tadashi.  There weren’t any unnecessary eyes on him.  People weren’t hounding him about trade deals with neighboring kingdoms or trying to appease the future king.  It was so refreshing, being able to move through the crowd without stopping him every few steps to introduce themselves and their entire family.
But, word quickly spread throughout the party as the fingers and whispers became almost impossible to ignore.  “Yes, that gentleman over there.  With the gold Venecian mask.  Yes, that’s him! That’s the prince!” People talked and Yamaguchi knew that it was only a matter of time before he was being swarmed by noblemen.  Everyone in the room knew the true intentions of this party.  It was the opportunity to attempt to get their daughters married away to the most sought after bachelor in the kingdom.  
If I just walk faster, maybe I can-
“Prince Tadashi!”
Shit.
Yamaguchi turned slowly, his smile just visible beneath his half-mask.  “Yes! Hello!  Thank you so much for coming,” he said, bowing gracefully to the gentleman.
The gentleman gave a deep bow, the two young women giving polite curtsies in his presence.  “Your highness, I am Lord Claudius Chavanet of the Gruidor Kingdom.  It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“No, please! The pleasure is all mine!”
“I would like to introduce you to Lady Catherine Chavanet and Lady Adele Chavanet, my eldest daughters.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you, Prince Tadashi,” the one in the exquisitely painted cat mask says, holding her hand out, fully expecting Yamaguchi to do something other than just stare and smile awkwardly at him.  Coming to the realization that he should do something, he takes her hand and gives it a firm shake.
“I’m very pleased to meet you too, Miss Chavanet,” he says, continuing to shake her hand enthusiastically.  The girl stares at him with a bewildered expression and pulls her hand away, folding them delicately in front of her.  
Her sister, not wanting to fall victim to the prince’s flustered facade, chooses simply to give him another curtsey.  “Thank you for having us, your highness.  Happy birthday.”
“Thank you for the kind wishes.  Now, if you would excuse me,” Yamaguchi smiles, thankful that his mask covers his flustered cheeks.  Before awaiting their farewells, he has turned on his heels, walking briskly away, desperate to find his parents, his friends, anyone that can maybe shield him from all the unwanted attention.  
“Tadashi!” There’s a sigh of relief from the prince at the familiar voice of his father.  Finally, someone to get me out of here.  Yamaguchi turns to make a B-line for the king, his one escapte, but he was sure the disappointment was evident on his face as there was a literal line of people waiting to talk to the king, or rather, to talk to the prince.
He shook his head, trying his best to pull a smile onto his face, as he approached.  “Father.”  Yamaguchi gives his father a short bow.
“Have you been enjoying yourself, my boy?”
“Yessir.  Thank you for doing this for me.  It’s absolutely amazing!”
“I’m glad to hear it.  However, all of these people have been waiting very patiently to make your acquaintance.”
“Yes, I apologize for keeping them waiting.  It was rude of me,” he apologizes, lowering his eyes in shame.  It was not of very princely conduct to keep nobles and other royal families waiting.  His father had made that very clear to him a long time ago.  ‘These people . . . they tend to be very agreeable at face value. But, just as we do, they come to these parties to make powerful connections.  I suggest you keep your most polite head about you whenever they are around.  It could easily cost you the kingdom or, worse, your life if you aren’t careful.’
“Don’t fret too much, Tadashi.  It’s your birthday, after all!  They can wait on you,” his father bellowed, giving him a kind wink.
Tadashi isn’t sure how much time had passed, but he does know that the servants came by three times to offer him a drink and he also knows that he will gladly be taking them up on their offer as his throat had grown dry from endless greetings and polite conversations.  After tonight, he was pretty sure that he was going to be okay never going to another party again.  He met close to a hundred eligible young women and, yet, they all ran together in his head.  That girl over there, was she a Terlee or was she Princess Sakura of the Atalon Kingdom? Wait- or was that Lady Norah Blaisha?  He found himself growing frustrated as he tried to remember who everyone was.  He felt so lousy!  How was he meant to pick someone to marry if he didn’t even know anyone’s name?
His father’s firm hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality.  “Well, I think that’s everyone.  Anyone catch your eye?”  There was a gleam of hope in his father’s eyes.  His parents have waited a long time for this day.  For the day when he would begin courtship with a young woman, but how was he meant to tell his father that he didn’t remember a single exchange that just happened?
He couldn’t do that.  He couldn’t disappoint his father like that.  Instead, he simply nodded, eyes shut tight in a painfully fake smile.  “Yes, there were a few that I found very agreeable.”
“I’m glad to hear that, son.”
Yamaguchi was ready to ask if he could be excused to go find his friends, but the words got lost somewhere in his throat.  At the edge of the crowd, a young woman sat, her black mask decorated with ornate gold twists and turns of filigree, splashes of little red embroidered roses around the edges.  He’s sure he would’ve remembered that mask.  It was easily the prettiest one that he had seen all evening.  He would’ve complimented it, but Tadashi didn’t remember being introduced to her.
“Father?”
“Yes?”
“Over there, the girl with the black and gold mask?”
“Yes, I see her.  What about her?”
“Do you know who she is?”  Yamaguchi asks, not taking his eyes away.
“I believe that is the youngest daughter of Lord Sauret.  She’s closer to your age than her sister, but her sister is unmarried and well- you know how it is.”
He did.  The eldest girls were to be married before the younger ones were allowed to engage in courtships, but he couldn’t just let this opportunity slip through his fingers.  It was the first person to really catch his attention, how could he not introduce himself?
“I would like to be introduced.”
“Tadashi-” his father warns. 
“You’ve said it yourself, connections are vital.  That’s all this is: forming connections.”
The king released a heavy sigh, unable to say no to his son’s pleading eyes.  “Fine.  Come along.  We’ll go find her father.”
In a matter of minutes, Yamaguchi Tadashi was grinning one of his first genuine smiles of the evening as the two fathers introduced their children.  
“Your highnesses, it is my absolute honor to introduce my youngest daughter to you both:  Miss Y/F/N Y/L/N.”  You do a low curtsy as your father introduces you to the members of the royal family, keeping your eyes trained to the floor.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Y/L/N,” Yamaguchi smiles, bowing deeply in your presence.
“And my son, Prince Yamaguchi Tadashi of the Rozu Kingdom.”
“I’m pleased to meet you, your highness,” you reply, a polite smile on your face.  
Yamaguchi’s hand went to the back of his neck, unsure of what to say next.  Honestly, he didn’t think he would get this far and no one had ever taught him what to do in these sort of situations.  Was he supposed to ask you to dance or should he stay here talking to you?  Does he compliment you?  He was meant to lead the conversation, yet he didn’t even know where to start.  Should he ask if you’re having fun?  No, that would be a bad conversation starter.  
“Do you like roses?” 
Good one, Tadashi.
“I’m sorry?”  Your face contorts into a soft look of confusion as you fail to comprehend his sudden question.
He can feel his face grow hot, averting his eyes awkwardly.  He wishes that he could just hide behind the curtains and disappear like he would do when he was a child.  This was by far the worst social interaction that he’s ever had and last week he said ‘yes, thank you’ when his servant asked what he wanted for dinner, so the bar for bad social interaction had been set pretty high for the prince. “Well, your mask- it has roses.  So, I just wondered.”  
Your hand reaches up towards the mask instinctively, fingers tracing over the little embroidered flowers.  “Oh, right.  My mother used to love them.”
“Really?  What’s her favorite flower now?”
Your face flashes through about a hundred different emotions before finally settling into a look of sadness. 
“Oh my God! Wait- I am so so sorry!  I didn’t think!  Please, forgive me, miss!” Yamaguchi frets, bowing in apology probably thirty times in a matter of seconds.
If he wasn’t desperately pleading for your forgiveness, you probably would’ve been more upset, but you couldn’t deny that his flustered mannerisms were, in a way, sort of cute.  His face was as red as the roses on your mask and he was waving his hands around frantically, muttering that he was ‘so so sorry.’  
Yamaguchi slowly looks into your face when the sound of sweet giggles are coming from your direction.  There’s a smile on your lips that almost instantly soothes him.  It radiates the warmth of the sun on a summer’s day and he can’t help melting as he looks into your shining eyes.  “Have you seen the gardens?”  He asks, returning your gaze, gesturing out the window to the rose garden shining gold in the disappearing daylight.
“That’s why I chose to sit here, so I could look out at them,” you say, nodding slightly.
“Would you like to see them?  Up close, I mean,” Yamaguchi offers.
“Your highness, I don’t know if that’s appropriate,” you ease, eyes flitting over to where your father was engaged in a casual conversation with the king.
The young prince simply shrugs and gives a dreamy sigh, an unknown burst of confidence bubbling up within his chest.  “It’s a shame, really.  The China Roses fully bloomed today and I was hoping to get a good look at them before the sun went down.”  He offers you a sly smile, unfitting of the usually awkward prince.  “But, if you don’t want to see them, that’s okay.  I’m sure I could find someone else to accompany me, but I doubt that they’d be half as breathtaking.”  
In the golden light of the evening, your blush blended in with the medley of colors dancing across your skin.  How could you possibly refuse now?  You reach out, taking his expectant hand, letting him guide you discreetly away from the party and out into the beautiful serenity of the palace gardens.
Tadashi’s head begins to clear as he is finally able to escape the overwhelming bustling atmosphere of the party.  He rids himself of his mask, running a quick hand through his hair, finally being able to breath easily again and drop the ‘charming prince’ act that he was expected to uphold.  He could finally just be Tadashi once more.  
Following his lead, you untie the strings of your mask, letting it fall into your hand.  It’s here, in this moment in time, that Prince Yamaguchi Tadashi of the Rozu Kingdom wishes that he had the ability to stop the world around him, staying in this frame of life forever.  You weren’t looking at him, examining one of the flowers that hadn’t quite blossomed into its full beauty yet.  In the disappearing daylight, your delicate features caught the fleeting rays, casting a soft orange glow over you.  It was a masterpiece of nature that he wanted to have saved as a portrait forever.  Happiness surrounding every inch of your being as you reveled in the stunning garden that completely encircled you.
So, this is the feeling, huh? The butterflies sneaking up into his stomach and the clouds fogging his mind, but not in the same way that they were when he was at the party.  This was a better feeling.  He wasn’t shrouded with anxieties, worrying about what to say or what to do.  Rather, his head was buzzing with thoughts about how beautiful you look, so undoubtedly happy wandering around his gardens with him.  Thinking that it would be completely inappropriate to kiss you right now, but maybe that could stay here, tucked between petals, protected by thorns.  
But, if it was so wrong, why were your hands on his chest? And why weren’t you pulling away from him?  If it was so socially taboo, why were you kissing him back and why didn’t he want to stop pressing his lips to yours?  
Yet, here, shrouded in the approaching darkness, tender kisses were shared between the glowing evening petals.
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ktheist · 4 years
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twelve.
chapters:  11 / 12 / 13 
knight!jungkook x princess!reader
x
“Your highness!” Eunha, your new maid, calls and at some point, you think she might have tried to run after you but proved to be no match for your legs. The same legs that have carried you into battlefield, slashing through the bodies of your enemies who might have been her father, brother or cousin just less than six months ago when your kingdoms were at war.
Blood was spilled and lives were lost.
It might be Taehyung’s tonight, as you found out about the shocking revelation Eunha blissfully mentioned of the unfortunate tale of a royal guard stealing the Prince and Princess’ dinner in the royal kitchen. To feed the son of a farmer that came to deliver some goods.
The Prince had saw it and ordered for him to be locked in the top cell of the left wing in isolation. Contempt of the royal family. Shameful. Disgraceful. Or so they say but your only take away was a emphatic, compassionate officer doing what the crown should have.
The ice cold prickles of the marble floor soon turns into roughed, dirt ground as you ascend the swirly staircase. On any other occasion, you would have preferred to take your time reaching the top, being well aware that the architecture is bound to unbalance you greatly but not tonight.
Tonight, your mind is fixed on a single goal. A wishful thinking perhaps.
“You dare lay your hands on your future Queen.” The hardened gaze you give the guard that tried to apprehend you is fierce and strict but the pendant of the royal family’s emblem is probably what made him retreat and bow.
“B-but your highness, the prince -” he fumbles with his words, legs almost caving under. You suspect if you’d tip him over, he’ll go tumbling down the stairs.
“Take this.” You barely manage to swallow the bile on your throat as you yank the pendant off your neck. The spot between your cleavage where it lied feels as heavy as your heart for what you’re about to do. “It’s worth enough to sustain your whole family for the next winter.”
One heartbeat. Two heartbeat. He hands out his hand on the third, head hung low as though he couldn’t bear to witness the beginning of his disloyalty towards his King.
And he shall learn, one way or another, that the crown he so devotedly serves has close to no care for its people.
Though the King seems more humane than his wife and son, the war that doomed your country could not have happened if he had not approved it.
“Jungkook!”
The words left you before you even manage to step into the cell that’s barely a quarter the size of your chambers where a wall-sized window permeated endless source of light and gorgeous view of the garden while a squared hole in the wall is the only thing keeping this god forsaken prison without light. Somewhere in the corner, the fire of a candle waves at the presence of an additional company.
His arms are skinnier than you remember when he gathers you in a longing embrace yet the strength of his hold does not change. It’s the same hold that offers you security and support on nights you are at your most fragile.
“Princess,” the hoarseness in his voice breaks your heart, “how did you get here?”
Calling for the guard that’s stood outside, you order for him to sneak into the worker’s kitchen, “get some water and some bread. plenty of those - oh for heaven’s sake go! we’re not going to run away!”
Jungkook cups your face and wipes away the tears you didn’t know were falling down your cheeks like waterfall. The fingerpads of his hand feels more callous than the last time he caresses your face as you fall asleep but the roughness affirms more than ever that this isn’t just some dream like the many dreams you’ve had of being reunited with your knight.
“Forgive me,” you hiccup, “I-I didn’t know -”
He presses your face into the crook between his neck and shoulder where you find solace in his warmth as he rocks you back and forth, hushed whispers spoken into your ears.
You didn’t want to let go when the scrawny guard comes bursting into the minute prison with what you asked for, cowering backwards when he sees the sight of his soon-to-be Queen in the arms of a man who’s not his Crown Prince.
At the very least though, Jungkook manages to find humor in your childlike tantrum. The vibration of the laugh all too familiar yet surreal.
“You’ve just found me alive, don’t you want to keep it like that?’ He bargains, receiving a smack on his chest at any notion of death doing you apart.
“It’s not funny.”
He pulls the tray left by the guard a few feet away from his feet, relishing in freshly made bread and taking generous gulps of water from the bucket that comes with the sustenance.
All the while, his left hand is always touching you in some way, be it around your shoulders or presently, interlocked with your right hand.
“Let’s run away,” by dawn, you’ve calmed down enough to find yourselves in each others’ arms, lain on a straw mat on the dirtied ground, “you and me.”
“Princess,” Jungkook’s thumb is on your chin and you’re forced to look into those brown eyes that holds nothing but gentleness, “you were born for something so great that to succumb to your wish to run away would be a crime.”
“It’s my only wish,” you clutch a handful of his shirt on his chest, it feels odd not having the coldness of the armor shock you anymore yet this way, you can feel his beating heart if the world is quiet enough.
“It’s the one wish I cannot grant you,” he sits up, hand covering yours as though he’s begging you not to implore, “will I see you tonight?”
He presses his lips to yours when you take a bit too long to answer. It’s too easy to lose yourself in his arms when he’s holding you so close. Yet the thought of what will happen once you step out of this prison makes your chest tighten and the line of your shoulder a little straighter.
“We’re not done discussing this.”
He waves you off with a smile that says every parting is a goodbye. Every sneaking in is an surety hung loosely over the promises of a bag of shillings for the young guard whose name you learned is Beomgyu.
Your nights are spent sneaking past the guards (a specialty honed from your younger days in your own castle) and your mornings are spent with the family you wed into and the council.
Until one day, a messenger boy comes bursting into your study as you discuss the betterment of the political status between the Southern and Northern Kingdoms. 
The mountain people have accepted the treaty in exchange for fur coats, breads and horses. The King, at the news, roared with laughter as he brought the silver chalice to the air.
“A toast to my dearest daughter,” he nods at you, “for achieving peace since my great great-grandfather’s rule and even then, it was my great great grandmother who struck the treaty.” 
“To her highness,” Sir Park is the first to break the silence, joined by the rest of the councils but not without suppressed sneers and back-handed compliments.
The chair on the other end screeches as the butler hurriedly rushes over to pull it off the marble floor.
“Since my son has found the best of wife,” he says over the celebrating crowd as chatters die down, “a coronation for the new Queen and King to take the throne shall be held in three month’s time.”
A pause.
“I’m unwell,” the Queen looks at you sharply before she meets her King’s concerned gaze, “allow me to retreat to my chambers.”
Less than a minute later, Taehyung stands, dropping the crisp white napkin on the table. The only sound echoing off the walls are his footsteps tapping against the floor almost as mocking as his retreat.
The King clears his throat and smiled with a sort of practiced glee that could have fooled the highest of nobles, “eat, drink, celebrate! For we have a busy month ahead of us.”
But you’re both of royal blood and you’ve once borne a weight of a crown.
The wide, a deep red, swirls in a minute whirlwind within the chalice as before you shoot the King a smile and bring the chalice to your lips.
x
“Your highness,” you stop a few feet from your door where a familiar face is leaning against, chatting up one of the maids whose luck is the poorest to have caught him there at the wrong time, “what brings you to my chambers?”
The maid drops her gaze, a meek greeting shot your way before she practically runs to the opposite direction.
“You dare lock your chambers from your husband?” He looks past you to your Seulgi who has assumed a post as your lady-in-waiting. She remains in her spot until you signal for her to unlock it.
“When I tell you to do something, you do it,” he whispers to her between the clicking of keys before she pushes the door open, head hung low as though she hadn’t heard a thing.
You cover your hand with yours for the briefest seconds before trailing behind him into your room. The curtains are drawn apart, moon light pouring onto the intricate design of the Indian carpet.
“You’re stepping out of line, princess,” fingers curl around your delicate wrist as the doors creak to a shut, “be a good little trophy wife and cease your meddling in the politics of my kingdom.”
“I should not have to if you’d do your job properly.” You maintain the smirk spread across your glossed lips as you attempt to shove him away.
The frown lines on his face eases into a nasty smirk. The one you wish to slap off since the day you’ve encountered. It’s short-lived as the corners of his mouth turns down.
“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten,” even with the mask of hurt he wears on that devastatingly handsome face, it’s still not enough to conceal the ugly little head of where he derives his humor from, “that once I’m the King and you the Queen, we are expected to be with a child. A royal blood to unite the two kingdoms once and for all.” 
His grip tightens, those dark eyes harbor the same kind of menace of the man who rode on his horse and ordered for your head during the war. The mere recollection of blood, fire and the condition of your own knight makes you want to vomit.
Arching your knee upwards, you take a step backwards as he doubles over, wheezing.
“You wench,” he sneers once he’s gathered his breath and the remnants of his pride, “wait til I become King-”
“King?” A scoff escapes your lips, “battles and wars are your forte, I admit but it takes a man to rule a kingdom and unfortunately you’re half of a man than the stable boys.”
The bellows for the guards almost allows him to pass as a mad man. Truly feral and uncontrolled like the beast that set fire to your people’s houses and burned the harvest of your kingdom.
“Your highness,” Eunha rushes to your side as three guards march towards Taehyung, Seulgi standing a few feet away.
“Get my sword and one for my darling wife,” nimble hand pulls apart the ruff of his collar before he tosses his jacket onto your bed, “it’s a beautiful night for a fence.”
x
It’s a losing game.
You knew since you unsheathed the sword of your family insignia - one of the many approaches the King had taken to make you feel at home. It’s your father’s father, passed on to your father and on your wedding day, passed to you and hung on the wall in the diner hall of your new home.
The weight isn’t made for a woman - as are many things that are deemed a man’s job. You prefer the sword you had custom made on your 20th birthday. The day your father promised he’d teach you how to wield a weapon but before he managed to hold a lesson for you, he’d fallen terribly ill.
Sending a prayer to your bed-ridden father, you leap at the smirking man, already knowing it’s far too heavy for you to counter his attack. One strike is at it takes for him to send your sword airborne and landing just inches from the fountain where a statue of the previous King stands gloriously.
“Yield,” the point of the blade catches the reflection of weary yet bloodthirsty eyes. It takes a moment for you to realize they do not belong to the monster who’s well able to drive it through your heart. It belongs to another kind of monster, yourself.
“You’d have to kill me first,” you say through gritted teeth despite your neck burning from craning upwards to look at him dead in the eye.
“Enough!” A flock of golden yellow enters your periphery, the delicate shrill is enough to tell who the colorful robe belongs to, “Taehyung, I raised you better than to point your sword at a woman!”
“But mother,” the man grunts, “she was -”
“I don’t care who did what,” she speaks over him, hardened gaze shifting from his son to you.
The weight of it is enough for you to want to cower into the corner and blend with the shadows yet you remain on your spot, back straightened, hands 
“Leave,” is all she says and it’s enough.
One by one, the guards and your maid begins to trickle out of the vicinity, rushed heels clacking against the floor until only the three of you are left.
She didn’t even bat an eye when her son bowed and started walking until you dip to a courtesy, “remain there.”
“Your majesty,” nodding once, you watch as she circles you like a predator before pulling out your sword from where it’s rooted.
“A princess does not go against a man in a sword fight,” the glint of the moonrays hits one of her eyes, painting it a treacherous golden brown, “not before she is crowned Queen.”
“With all due respect, your majesty, I do not want -”
“You will,” the robe flutters behind her as she spins, gracefully yet deadly, “you will want power. Command. Once you’ve lived long enough to lose yourself in this god forsaken place and I will not allow you to have any semblance of that in my castle. In my kingdom.”
“My Queen, your wisdom is misplaced. I’ve borne the weight of the crown and know a great deal of what it entitles,” you drop to a bow, “to be relieved of it is a luxury not many can afford. My apologies that you lost yourself along the way and forgot the cause you are to bear: your people. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
The air feels heavy, almost crushing with each step you take as the reverberating sound of your heels remind you how alone you are within these walls. The wall you’re leaned against as you clutch the thin peignoir on your chest, heaves of breath tumbling out erratically.
You’re not sure how long you’re slumped on the ground like that. Not long, you suppose. These walls, though barren, are not uninhabited. One of the footmen must have seen the lump of a person and came close enough to realize it’s you before he manages to shoo you away if you were a maid.
Eunha is on your side in no time. Gentle, slender arms around yours guiding you to your room. But those are not the arms you wish to be in right now.
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