#the snake in the garden au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lvandrskies · 4 months

Text

— from eden

synopsis: eve found a snake in her garden, and then fell in love with the fruit it offered.

tags: god au, past lives, soul bonds, angst, smut

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, oral (fem. receiving), corruption kink if u squint, character death

word count: 18.3k

m.list

a/n: if you've read this before, it's because i deleted my old account and then decided to come back. as a disclaimer, religion is pretty broad in this fic. "god" in this fic is not god from the christian/catholic religion. also !! thank u @yeonjunszn for betaing this last year, love u pookie!! <33 [photo creds]. MINORS DNI

❝all the fear and the fire of the end of the world, happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl.❞

When God created the universe, he first created light. He separated the light from darkness and called them “Day” and “Night”. Then He made the sky, separating the water with a dome to keep it in two separate places. Then he made the sun and the stars, weaving his essence to light up his beautiful creation to help guide those who will soon live on it. Then He created animals, for both the sky and the water. He blessed them and told them to live in the sea and the sky, to fill the ocean and the earth with bustling cycles of life.

On the last day, he created humans. He created man and woman, and told them to have children so they may produce their own descendants to walk over earth and bring everything into their control. The first two humans he created were Adam and Eve.

He provided them with an abundance of fruits and grains for them to eat in a beautiful garden he called Eden.

In the garden of Eden, they were to fall in love and create many children. Adam was the first one to fall in love with Eve, and she pliantly went along with it.

But, something in Eve felt… empty. Like Adam was not the one she was to be with. Adam was not the one she was to share this beautiful, vast, garden with. But, she wasn’t sure who she was to share this with. Eve knew she couldn’t delve much more into the unsettling pit in her stomach at the thought of her fate already sealed by Adam’s side, as it was not smart to defy God.

“God knows best,” she would tell herself as she lay with Adam in the garden of Eden.

________________

I’m dying.

If the blood flowing around him wasn’t enough of a tell, or the way his sight blurs in and out. The heavy rain pelting against his dying body is a desperate, yet pathetic, attempt of the universe trying to save him and wash the red sticky liquid away. His breathing is shallow, hitched. He feels the urge to cry, to mourn the life he’s no longer going to be able to have. He was so close to reaching his goals too, and now they’re all washed up and ruined, like trash washing back up on the shores of beaches he visits. Or, in just a short while it’ll be visited.

“I’m sorry, m—” Chan chokes. “Mom. I did everything I could.”

Just as he is about to slip into eternal sleep, a bright light opens up in the sky. It’s blinding, and warm?

Why is it so warm? Is this heaven?

Suddenly an otherworldly amount of pressure is pressing on his body, like the weight of the skies is laying flat along where he lays in the road. The air slowly leaves his lungs, deflating like a balloon that wasn’t tied. His entire body relaxes, and he feels himself being pushed further into his body, into his own mind.

Is this really what dying feels like?

—

Chan wakes up in a hospital room.

His body is aching, and his head is filled with an uncomfortable pressure. Breathing hurts, and he’s sure his ribs are broken. The machine that’s keeping track of his vitals beeps rhythmically, and he lets out a, albeit pained, sigh of relief at it.

He looks up at the ceiling, like he was looking up towards the heavens and thanking whatever God was gracious enough to let him keep living.

“Ah! You’re awake!” A voice says, cheerily. A woman in her late thirties is standing in the doorway. Her slick black hair is pulled into a low ponytail, a few strands falling into her face from being up for what Chan presumes to be hours. “I’m your nurse, Eunkyung. I’ll go grab the doctor.” Chan barely has the chance to respond before the nurse leaves, the sound of her shoes squeaking steadily quieting as she hurries down the hallway.

The doctor follows her into the room a few minutes later, inspecting his eyes and the nasty bruising around his ribcage. “Do you remember your name?”

“Bang Chan,” he answers. “Do you know how I got here?”

“You walked yourself here, do you not remember?” The doctor asks, bewilderment encasing his wrinkled face. “You were a sight to see. I don’t know what kind of God has your back but, you should have died last night. It’s quite literally a miracle.”

Chan’s head pounds at the doctor’s words, and he flinches. He pinches the bridge of his nose as an attempt to relieve some of the pressure.

“We’ll keep you here for another day or two to see how you’re feeling. Do you have any family we can call?”

“Oh, uh,” Chan looks down at his scraped hands, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “No, I don’t. My emergency contact should be Seo Changbin, though.”

Changbin does make it up to the hospital that same night, with Han Jisung bounding in right behind him. Changbin and Jisung aren’t one to shy away from theatrics, so when they finally enter the room, the younger of the two is loudly shouting in distress as he practically launches himself onto the bed to lay with Chan.

“Oh, my precious hyung! I can’t believe you almost died!” He wails out, wrapping his arms around Chan’s shoulders and obnoxiously crying out, the sound of his faux wails echoing into the room and piercing Chan’s eardrums and racking his brain even more.

“Ah, Sung. I love you, but please don’t yell. My head feels like it’s splitting.” He whines out, pinching the bridge of his nose once again.

“Yeah, the doctor said you have a pretty nasty concussion,” Changbin says. Chan nods, trying his best to move his shoulders to shake the younger boy off, but to no avail. Han Jisung is glued to his side, no matter how much pain it’s bringing to his ribs, but he eventually decides to give up and relaxes in the younger’s hold. Before he can fully relax, though, boney knuckles are making contact with his bicep, which then makes him groan and lurch up, shooting more pain into his torso. He opens his eyes to see that the worry is wiped clean off Changbin’s features, and instead replaced with a feign look of anger. “You idiot! How could you get yourself hit by a car!” Chan flinches at the rising level in the man’s voice.

“Did we forget that I said my head hurts?” Chan whines. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second I was crossing the street and then the next thing I know I’m laying in the middle of the road.”

“The doctor said you walked here,” Jisung says. “How did you even manage to do that, hyung?”

“Funny thing is, I don’t even remember doing it.”

—

Chan’s discharged after three days, and given a stern order from Ms. Eunkyung to “take it easy” until his head fully clears. He chuckles to himself, because he knows he’s not exactly going to follow that order.

Not if he wants food on the table.

Speaking of food; his fridge is empty. Save for a stick of butter, a gallon of milk Chan is more than a hundred percent sure is expired, and a singular tomato staring at him pitifully. Even the tomato looks like it’s on its last leg, too. He cringes.

Suddenly, his head starts pounding again. He groans, shutting the fridge door and stumbling to his couch where he throws himself down on it. He lets out a pained whine as the pressure in his head builds, and he’s almost convinced his head is going to explode.

“Am I dying for real this time?” Chan whispers to himself. The pressure feels almost familiar, like how it did when he was dying because soon it’s encasing his entire body again and his eyes slip closed.

—

When Chan awakes again, he feels so far away, like he’s not fully in his body.

He must have taken a harder hit to the head than he thought. He doesn’t even remember falling asleep, let alone when he moved to his bed. He thinks maybe he should call Minho over to watch him in case he passes out like that again. Maybe he really is dying this time.

Fuck. This isn’t entirely how he wants to go out. Alone, in his shitty apartment with no one around, barely any food in the fridge and nothing to his name that can be tied to any sort of legacy.

Though, he isn’t surprised he’s dying this way. It’s just his luck.

“Can you stop thinking so loud?”

What the fuck.

That was his voice. But he’s sure he wasn’t talking.

“Oh you mortals and your need to constantly think, think, think!” He feels his palm hit against his temple.

What..

“You’re not dead, kid. Well, not until I leave this vessel,” He says… to himself. He sighs. “I’m a god. Gotta say, you decided to go and get yourself killed at just the perfect time too. I didn’t even have to find you.”

What?!

“Don’t yell! You echo in my head and it’s giving me a headache!” The god scoffs, rubbing at his temples. “I’ll explain it to you in a second I just…” just then, Chan’s stomach growls and the god groans. “I’m fucking starving. When’s the last time you ate? You mortals love treating your bodies like shit.”

I ate… Wait, what time is it?

“It’s the next morning,” the god responds.

The next morning?!

“Yes! Gods, stop yelling!” Cato shrieks, gently knocking his fists on the top of his head in an attempt to quiet the human in their shared consciousness. “You were out for quite a while. I was convinced I completely shoved you out of your body. Just my luck I got someone who holds on, though. Tsk.” Chan watches as the god moves his body to sit up in his bed, swinging his legs over to firmly plant them on the ground. He groans, his body is sore and his joints are aching. Chan groans too, still able to feel everything. Just a little more dulled, but he still feels that incessant knot in his neck he’s never been able to get rid of. “You really let this thing get this rickety? How old are you?”

Twenty five.

“So young,” the god says, an almost mournful tone in his voice as he stretches his (their?) arms above his head. He walks out of the tiny bedroom and into the main apartment. “Cute place,” he chuckles. Chan doesn’t respond, as he watches the god look around the small apartment and take in everything. The god’s curious gaze lands on his stack of records, old vinyls he’s collected since he was about fourteen. “Nice collection.”

Thanks. Are you gonna tell me what’s going on now?

“After I feed myself,” the god quips. “So impatient.” He rolls his eyes as he makes his way into the kitchen. Chan doesn’t miss the grimace that paints across his face as the god stares at the stack of dirty dishes in the sink.

Don’t roll my eyes at me.

“I’m piloting this plane right now, so they’re my eyes.” The god snaps.

Can you at least tell me your name?

“Cato,” the god responds as he opens the fridge. Cato lets out an indignant sound at the sight. The same stick of butter, expired milk, and pathetic tomato are glaring back at them once again. “You have no food, you useless man! How are we supposed to eat!”

I haven’t had the time to go grocery shopping.

“How have you not died earlier?” Cato asks, sarcastically.

You’re so not funny.

“It’s still a sensitive topic, I see,” Cato quirks his eyebrows. “Where can we get food?”

There’s a convenience store down the street I usually go to when I’m in between groceries.

“Is this your definition of in between groceries?”

Shut up. I’m a busy guy.

Cato doesn’t respond as he goes and gets himself dressed. He pauses putting on the tee shirt he chose to look in the mirror the human has hanging on his wall. He’s bruised heavily on his torso and his face is scraped up. He and the god both grimace at the damage done to his body. “How did you even manage to do this?”

It’s not like I was playing chicken with the car. It just happened.

“You got hit? And they didn’t take you to the hospital?” Cato presses down on the bruise along his ribcage, which sends a sharp pain to crawl up his spine. Chan whimpers quietly in his head at the touch. Cato whimpers out loud. “That’s why I had to walk us there myself.”

That’s usually what entails in a hit and run. Stop touching it! That hurts. Wait – you were the one that took me to the hospital?

“Yeah. I was in a lot of pain… You can feel that?” Cato asks, eyebrow raised as he looks in the mirror. He presses on it again. Chan lets out a whine.

Yes. It hurts. A lot. My ribs are broken. I don’t know if you remember, but that’s what the doctor said. At the hospital. That you walked me to.

“You lost a lot of blood last night,” Cato says. “I don’t know how I managed to heal your cracked skull but not the bruises and your ribs. But also, this isn’t just your body you stupid mortal. It’s mine, too.” Chan sighs, annoyed.

Maybe they weren’t life threatening?

“No, it’s not that,” Cato murmurs. He places a finger on his chin, eyebrows scrunched as he racks his brain (or, his borrowed brain) for an answer. His stomach growls again. “Oh, man. I can barely think. Food first, everything else later. Oh, and try not to talk to me. I don’t wanna look like a weirdo talking to myself on the street.”

You could just not respond out loud.

Go fuck yourself.

Walking to the convenience store was quick. The cold winds nip at Cato’s nose, painting it a delicate shade of red by the time he enters the store. The heat from inside the building wraps him in a hug, thawing his frozen nose and hands as he steps in almost instantly. The store itself is small, maybe four aisles at best with a line of freezers and fridges lining the back wall. There’s a table with a microwave and two two-seater tables next to it.

Cute.

The old lady that owns it gives me a discount because I help her stock sometimes.

That’s called a job.

I don’t work here.

But you do — whatever I’m not arguing with a stupid mortal.

Didn’t know God can get hangry.

I’m not “God”, I’m a God. Did you not hear me when I made that exact distinction when you woke up earlier?

I see I’ve hit a nerve.

It’s like if I called you an animal when you’re a human. It’s rude.

To whom?

To me! And to the big man himself, but that’s not who we’re concerned about right now.

Sorry, God.

Are you not going to apologize to me?

No.

“Fucking mortals.” Cato whispers under his breath as he walks the aisles.

I heard that.

You were meant to!

“Chan?” a soft, pretty voice speaks out from next to him. Cato whips his head to find a girl. She has a look of uncertainty on her face, but once she realizes it actually is who she thought, a bright smile paints across her angelic face. “Hey! Missed you in class yesterday.”

Cato stands there, shell shocked. His mouth drops open and he’s standing there, gawking at her for a full ten seconds. For some reason, after seeing this girl, a hole feels as if it’s torn open in his chest, where his heart should be. It’s painful. Raw, carnal pain shoots through his chest and it makes his eye twitch.

Answer her, idiot! Don’t make me look stupid!

“Oh!” Cato sounds out, plastering a nervous smile on his face. “Hey, you…”

Y/n. Her name is y/n.

Y/n. Why does that sound so…familiar?

“Hey?” You say, confusion lacing your voice. The confusion is wiped away once your eyes settle on the scrapes along his jawline and eyebrow, concern replacing it instead. An attentive hand reaches up and carasses against his cheek, and both Cato and Chan have stopped breathing. They both can feel how their cheeks heat up at your touch. Cato has half a mind to flinch away, and he does. Your hand retracts immediately, your mouth pulling to the side in regret for accidentally hurting him. In truth, you didn’t touch him. But the heat of your hand so close to his skin felt as if it was burning. Your pretty eyes are filled to the brim with worry, and you ask, “What happened to your face? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just took a pretty nasty fall last night,” Cato responds, sheepishly. He scratches the back of his neck with an embarrassed smile. “That's why I wasn’t in class yesterday. Had to go to the hospital and get my head checked out.”

“Oh, that’s awful! I’m glad you’re okay, though!” You respond, your bright smile coming back to your face, though it is tainted with worry still. “Since you missed class, we were partnered together for a project. Maybe we can meet and I can go over the notes and the project with you? Or I can just… send them to you.”

Tell her we can meet tonight.

What happened to ‘taking it easy’?

Chan only laughs in response.

“I’m down to meet you tonight, if that’s okay.” Cato smiles down at you.

“Yeah, for sure!” You chirp. “I’ll see you at your studio tonight, then? I get off work at seven!”

Studio?

Y/n and I major in music production.

“Cool, I’ll see you there.” Cato responds. You give him a wave goodbye, making your way up to the cashier to check out your things. Cato was so in shock he didn’t even notice you were carrying anything.

His stomach growls. He groans quietly.

For someone who had such a sense of urgency over eating, you sure are taking a long time to get something to eat.

Will you shut the fuck up?

________________

❝i slithered here from eden just to sit outside your door.❞

As Eve bore child after child for Adam, for the earth, that pit she so desperately tried to bury in her stomach grew bigger. More insistent. She watches as more and more of her children experience many things she didn’t get to; exploring, meeting, falling in love with who they choose and so on and so forth.

As much as she hates to say it, let alone even let it into her heart, she resents her children. She resents Adam. She resents the life that the strings of fate have weaved for her, as she watches her children experience the freewill that God gifted them. Yet she and Adam are forced to simply be their means to an end, to push their future generations along so the human race may flourish.

As she sits in the garden, weaving a crown of flowers and singing a song she does not think has been orchestrated yet, the stream she sits in front of singing quietly with her, a snake slithers up to her. It’s beautiful brown scales and equally as beautiful brown, slitted eyes glint etherally in the early morning sun. She extends a gentle hand towards it, its forked tongue stretching out to slide across her fingers curiously. She giggles at the ticklish sensation, watching with her own curiosity as he climbs up her forearm and upwards so its head rests gently against her naked shoulder.

She goes back to weaving the stems, the soft melody she hums lulling the snake to sleep against her shoulder.

________________

So, I’m… your vessel?

“Correct,” Cato responds, watching the electric kettle impatiently. Cato had finally decided on food after you left, a bowl of ramen and a couple seaweed snack packages he managed to find in Chan’s desolate cabinet. Seriously, why doesn’t this guy have any sense of care for himself? “Every God and angel has a vessel on earth in case we need to come down.”

Can you just not come down in the way you look?

“No. Our heavenly form will drive an ordinary person insane,” the god lets out a small noise of glee once the kettle settles, indicating it’s finally done heating the water. Humans, as stupid as they can be sometimes (he’s looking at Chan, specifically), they sure have made quite a few amazing inventions. Just like this kettle. He’s absolutely enamored with it. “We originally weren’t supposed to have access to earth. We were just supposed to observe from the heavens.”

But?

“But, there’s just some things the Big Man dangles in front of you and you take the bait,” Cato pours the water in the bowl of ramen, watching as the spices he added immediately dissolve in the scolding liquid. He chuckles in amusement to himself as he recloses the paper lid, laying a pair of chopsticks over it to keep it closed. “Hey, how long should this sit for?”

Like two or three minutes. What do you mean by bait?

“A lot of god’s fell in love with mortals on earth,” Cato answers. “You ever read any Greek mythology stories? Apollo and Hyacinthus. Eros and Psyche. So on and so forth.”

I mean, yeah, but, I didn’t think they were real or anything.

“Oh, they’re definitely real,” the god chuckles. “Apollo and I are friends, actually.”

No way! So, like, is every God from every religion real, then?

“Yeah.” Cato shrugs. He takes the chopsticks off and rips the paper cover off of the bowl, excitedly using the chopsticks to stir the broth and noodles around.

So, why did you come to earth?

Cato pauses. He’s standing in the middle of the kitchen like an idiot, frozen in real time as he stares dumbfounded into the bowl of noodles. Why… Why did he come to earth?

Hello? Earth to Cato? Your food is gonna get cold.

“Oh, right,” Cato shakes his head to rid him of his internal struggle. “I… I don’t know why I came to earth. I don’t seem to remember.” He manages to make his way to Chan’s kitchen table, which is just a small round table with two rickety chairs in the corner of his living room.

So do vessels usually die before god’s possess them?

“No, not usually – ah! Fuck, that’s still hot,” Cato whines, sticking his burned tongue out and waving air onto it with his fingers. Chan’s laugh echoes in his head, and he makes an offended noise from the back of his throat as he continues fanning his tongue.

So, me dying the same time you came down was just… pure luck?

“Yeah,” Cato makes sure to blow cold air onto the noodles this time. “I mean, lucky for me. Not so much for you.”

What’s gonna happen when you leave?

“You’ll probably die.”

But you healed me? Shouldn’t that stay when you leave?

Cato shrugs. “Don’t know. You’re technically not even supposed to be conscious like this, either. I’m supposed to have full control of your vessel if I possess it.”

Comforting.

It’s silent after that. Cato is grateful Chan has stopped playing twenty questions. It gives Cato’s one track mind a way to fully focus on his food and not about the fact that he does not remember why he’s even here in the first place. But it’s not like he can just go back up to the heavens and ask someone. As annoying as he is, he quite likes the human that’s his vessel. It’s a shame that once the god is done on earth, Chan’s fatal wounds will most likely come back full force.

Cato hopes he’s able to leave fast enough to not have to witness it.

After Cato ate, Chan was insistent on switching when it came time for his meet with you later in the evening. It took a lot of bickering back and forth, but once Chan got it through the stubborn god’s head that you would know something was off with him (that didn’t have to do with his head injury) the second Cato opened his, in Chan’s words, “big dumb mouth”.

“Why do we have to pass out to switch?” Chan asks as he steps out of the shower.

Do you always have this many questions? Gods, I feel like I’m speaking to a toddler.

Chan copies his words in a silly voice, rolling his eyes as he does so. “Sue me for wanting to know how to work my body with someone else camping in it.”

The way you said that just sounds so… weird.

“And a god possessing a human body is just a regular Tuesday, right?” the human jokes.

For us, yeah.

“Shut the fuck up, Cato,” Chan chuckles, shaking his head in faux annoyance. He stands in front of the bathroom mirror and runs his fingers through his thick curls. For some reason his stomach is buzzing at the thought of being in his studio with you.

Why are you so nervous to see y/n?

Chan’s cheeks heat up. “I’m not,” he mutters.

You know I can feel everything, right?

Chan doesn’t respond, too afraid that his voice might way to just how flustered he is. It’s true he finds you very attractive, and your personalities mesh well together. You both have a lot in common and since the day he met you he’s felt a weird, otherworldly pull towards you. “You said her name was familiar to you. Why?” Cato doesn’t respond for a minute, and Chan almost wonders if the god even heard him ask. “Cato?”

I… I don’t know. Just when you said it it just felt like deja vu for some reason. How long have you been friends?

“Since she started college,” Chan replies. “She’s like two years below me.”

Chan doesn’t miss the weird boulder that settles in his stomach. But for some reason, it feels distant. Like it’s not his boulder.

________________

❝apollo showed me the sun. told me not to fly too close or else i would be one with the people on the land.❞

The snake visited Eve in the garden everyday, in the same spot, resting its head on her naked shoulder as she weaved crown after crown of flowers every day, humming the same tune. It became a routine, and then it became something for Eve to look forward to. She finally had something for herself! Adam was out every day for most of it hunting so Eve spent a lot of time with this serpent.

She couldn’t place her finger on why, but when she was alone, weaving her flowers, with the snake on her shoulder, she’d talk. Like word vomit, she vented about her unhappiness in the garden and her jealousy towards her children being able to explore the vast earth and experience things she will never have the privilege to. For she was cursed to stay here, day after day, weaving her flowers in the garden, and bearing more and more children for a man she felt absolutely nothing for. Even the garden, once vibrant and vast to Eve, was now growing dull and shrinking in on her. She feels trapped, she’d say. Her world was dying, and there was nothing she could do about it.

“Why me?” She asked the snake one day. “Why did I have to be the first one made? Why do I have to carry this responsibility? Why wasn’t I asked first? Where’s my freewill?”

The snake nuzzles its head, like it was gesturing that it was listening to her. “I wish you were a person,” Eve whispered. “Maybe then I’d have someone who gets me.”

The serpent nuzzles its head again. Eve’s eyes well with hot tears.

She’s so lonely.

________________

Chan is reeling.

It’s hotter in his studio than usual. It’s definitely not because you’re alone with him in his studio and for some reason that’s making him more flustered than usual. Definitely not. He’s definitely not noticing the perfume you used, or the way your fingers flit over your laptop keys almost elegantly, the click of the keys echoing in his ears. He also most definitely was not looking at how your thighs look sitting in his extra chair, or how your dainty necklace falls on your neck, the charm brushing against the low collar of your tee shirt.

You’re sweating profusely right now. Calm down, you pervert.

Shut up, Cato. I feel like I can barely breathe right now.

Yeah, I know. That’s why I said calm down, pervert. Did you not hear me?

“Are you okay, Chan?” You ask him, concern washing over your pretty features as he tugs on the collar of his shirt for the fourth time in thirty seconds. “Do you want to cut this short and meet another day? You don’t look so good.”

Chan all but stops breathing when your delicate hand reaches up and presses gently against his forehead. Your hand is cold, and it works to cool his heated skin almost immediately. His eyes fall close, and he lets out a heavy sigh. “No, I’m okay,” he says, opening his eyes again and giving you a gentle smile. He watches as your cheeks flush the slightest bit. “Just needed a second is all.”

“Let’s take a break, yeah?” You say, closing your laptop as an excuse to not look at him for a second. Chan nods, and then it’s quiet for a minute. Neither of you know how to act around each other. Sure, you were friends but you weren’t best friends. Chan and you also never really hung out one on one, it was really always you, Chan, Changbin, and Jisung or anyone else in your classes. While he didn’t consider everyone to be his friends, always keeping to his close knit circle, he did know a lot of people, and those people also happened to know you. So it was never the right time to get to know you. “So… Why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?” You puff your cheek out, shyly. Chan can’t help but let the smile stretch across his face.

“What’s there about me you wanna know?” He asks. Your cheeks flush again, and you scramble to keep your hands busy, opting to twirl your pen between your fingers.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “We’ve known each other for so long but I don’t think we’ve ever really had the chance to actually know each other.”

He nods. “You’re right,” he sucks in a breath, letting his gaze fall towards his desktop as he thinks of what to tell you. “Well, I was born in Australia.”

“Yeah, I know that,” you giggle. “You and Felix talk about it all the time. What’s it like there?”

“Hot,” he chuckles, shrugging. “It’s beautiful, really. All my family is still there so there’s… like this part of me that’s still there with them, if you get what I’m trying to say.” Chan lets out another breathy laugh, suddenly embarrassed.

“I think I do,” you say, nodding your head. “Like a piece of you is missing because it’s back home?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Chan says. “I miss it sometimes.”

“I bet. It must have been hard moving here all by yourself.”

“I mean yeah, but… I don’t know, as much as Australia is my home, this is also home, you know? I love what I do and I’ve found my people. So it makes up for the part of me I left at home,” you both nod along to his words, small smiles shyly turning up your mouths. “What about you?”

“Well,” you sigh, still twiddling with the pen. Your leg starts shaking. “I’m from here.”

“Yeah, I know that.” Chan copies your words, which brings out a giggle from you. His heart lurches.

I felt that.

Shut up.

“I don’t know, I…” you trail off, letting yourself think of what you wanna say. “My moms a school teacher and my dads a realtor, so we’re well off on my dad’s money. They’re kinda the… traditional, married at nineteen, had me at twenty, church every sunday, and have a certain plan for their daughter kind of people.”

“And?”

You shrug. “For the most part I went along with what they wanted me to do. Perfect grades, perfect clothes, perfect boyfriend that I’ll one day have to marry and continue the cycle,” Chan doesn’t miss the way his eye twitches at the mention of a boyfriend. “But, I really rocked the boat when I said I wanted to go into music production.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s… Well they say it’s unrealistic,” you sigh. “I’ve always loved music, and when my perfect, middle class family life got to be too much pressure to uphold, it comforted me. I taught myself all the instruments I know.”

“Impressive.” He chuckles.

“Right?” You giggle along with him. Chan decides he really likes that sound. “But, they expected me to almost go into something… I don’t know, easy? Something that will let me rely on Seojun when we eventually get married.”

“Do you want to get married?” Chan asks, eyebrow raising a little. Your fingers stop twiddling with the pen and your leg goes still for just a second before it picks up again.

“Honestly? No,” you say. “It’s just not something I feel like is for me. Of course, I want to spend the rest of my life with someone but I don’t need a piece of paper or an expensive ring to solidify that I love them and they love me.”

“How long have you been with Seojun?” Chan almost feels the bile that coats the man’s name as he says it.

“Three years,” you answer. “My dad is business partners with his dad and we met at a company party and it just kind of… I don’t know, happened.” You shrug.

“Is he in college too?” You nod your head yes.

“He’s in finance,” you glance over at him. “He’s actually almost done. He’ll be working under his dad after he graduates. His dad is also paying for his real estate classes after he graduates so he can sell commercial properties.”

It’s quiet again, and your leg is still shaking. Your face, now pointedly looking away from him, holds a sort of… loneliness. And almost a hint of regret for even saying what you did out loud.

Don’t ask that.

“Can I ask you a question?” Chan interrupts the heavy silence, and pointedly ignoring Cato’s warning. You hum, letting yourself look at him again. The loneliness he saw on your face floods your eyes. It’s almost overwhelming. “And you can tell me if I’ve crossed the line and we’ll never talk about this again.”

Don’t ask that.

“What is it?”

“Do you… like Seojun?”

And you asked it. I cannot believe you.

Your face falls, but it doesn’t morph into anger like he thought it would. You don’t yell at him, or tell him to mind his business and storm out. He doesn’t know why he was expecting you to lash out at him like that, though. Call it anxiety, he guesses. Instead, that loneliness intensifies — if that was even possible. You’re quiet for a minute, almost like you were deciding to lie to him or if you were about to spill something he’s not sure he — or you — would know what to do with.

“He’s nice,” you settle on. “We don’t have that much in common, but he treats me well.”

I don’t like that answer.

Neither do I.

Chan only nods, though.

“Should we get back to it, then?” You ask, your mouth turned into a tight lipped smile.

“Yeah.” He smiles.

You both delve into a rhythm of bouncing ideas off each other, and the building almost obsessively on the idea you both really like. Chan doesn’t know why he hasn’t worked with you before this, you’re so smart and your ideas are so unique and full of life. He can really see your love for music and the creative process behind making it. His heart flutters a bit at the thought that you both share this pure love for music in the same way.

“Do you wanna maybe meet again tomorrow?” You ask as you pack up your stuff. By the time you both decide to call it quits, it’s nearing one in the morning. He walks with you to your dorm, and he can’t help but smile shyly at the hopeful look in your angelic eyes. You're holding onto your tote bags strap that sits comfortably on your shoulder. He sees you shiver a little, and then only notices the pathetic little jacket you decided to wear despite it being less than forty degrees outside. He fights giving you his jacket. He would, normally without hesitation, but after learning you have a boyfriend he doesn’t want to cross any boundaries, no matter how cute he thinks you would look swimming in his hoodie.

Down boy, down.

Will you stop?

I’ll stop when you stop being such a male.

“We can go to the cafe on campus after class,” Chan suggests. You nod, giving him a bigger smile at his words. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you say. Your eyes glint with excitement as you nod your head. “Text me when you get home, okay?”

“Will do.” He reassures you as you open the main door to your dorm and walk in. He waves to you from outside and then steps off the porch, walking down the lit walkway, unable to erase the smile from his face.

You like her.

“Shut up,” he sputters out. “She’s always been in my sights, and I always thought she was cute. We just never had the chance to bond like that before. Changbin or Jisung are always usually with us, or my other friends.”

Too bad she’s someone else’s.

Chan rolls his eyes. Quietly, though, he wonders what would have happened had he met you before you met Seojun. Would you be his? Would you be happier with him?

Cato heard those too.

________________

❝didn’t know my world was dark until you came.❞

Eve sits in her usual spot, weaving her flowers once more. It’s another day, but this time she’s by herself. The snake hasn’t showed up yet, but she hopes it's on its way now. She tries not to let herself get too upset over not having her usual companion today, but she can’t help it. This newfound routine of her weaving flowers and talking to the snake while he rested peacefully on her arm has brought her more happiness than anything else in the garden – even the entire world – could.

So when a day turns into two, and then turns into three, then seven, her mood worsens. Even Adam, as unobservant as he is, noticed her change in mood. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong though, of course he doesn’t. As much as he claims to love her, to cherish her with his entire earthly being and his heavenly soul, he never seems to notice her until he wants to bend her over in the grass and give her another baby. Or two. Or three.

On the eighth day, when Eve is back at her favorite spot, weaving flower stems, a frown on her lips, a man approaches from out of the brush. It’s a man she has never seen before, but he is beautiful. Chocolate brown eyes and pretty brown hair to match with them, he gives her a gentle smile. “Hi,” he says. “You might not recognize me.”

“You’re right, I don’t,” Eve says, on guard. She’s covering her body, cautious. “You’re not one of my children. So who are you?”

“I– I’m the snake,” he says. “My name is Cato. I’m a god.”

“Cato,” Eve repeats, the name swirling around her tongue pleasantly. “That means all-knowing.”

“Yes.”

“So, why did you come to me as a snake and not as yourself, Cato?” She asks, sitting up straighter against the tree behind her. “Why not show yourself to me from the start instead of deceiving me?”

“Forgive me, my dear,” he bows his head in apology. “I did not have an earthly body, and my heavenly form would have scared you. I transformed myself into a snake to meet you, and until my earthly body was ready. I am sorry for tricking you.” His eyes, his beautiful eyes, shine with genuine regret.

“What do you want from me?” She asks.

“Forgive me if I sound weird,” he starts. “But I was there when God made you. You are so beautiful, I will never understand how he did not make you an angel. Alas, I fell for you. And then before I could say anything, he sent you down here with Adam. And I had no way of meeting you anymore.”

“You…” she trails off. “Fell? For me?”

“Yes, my angel,” he says, walking closer and settling himself on his knees before her. “I fell for you. You have my heart. And if you let me, I would love to have yours.” The god takes her delicate hand into his, running his thumb over her knuckles. His hands engulf hers, long, spindly fingers holding hers with such love, such gentleness that she’s never felt from Adam’s rough, calloused hands.

She finds her heart fluttering at his honey coated words.

________________

When Chan gets home from dropping you off at your dorm, he remembers to send you a quick text before he retires into bed.

When he sleeps that night, he dreams. He dreams of him, in an earlier time, walking with you through a beautiful garden.

Your cream colored dress encases your body so elegantly, and the way you wore your hair out of your face yet still cascading down your back makes you look so… ethereal. Your arms are linked together, and he can’t help but stare at the side of your angelic face as you giggle at something he says. “You are a character, Mr. Bang,” you say in between giggles. “I sure am glad you came home from the war, alive and healthy.”

“I am too,” he says, his own smile unable to leave his face. “It’s just a shame I couldn’t marry you before I left. I hope Lord Emroy is treating you well, though, and giving you everything you could ever want.”

Your smile falters, and your gaze flitters away from him. Loneliness fills your pretty eyes and you quiet for a second. “He does treat me well, Chan,” you glance up at him for a quick second before your eyes cast down to the ground once more.``But that does not mean I am happy with him.”

“I see,” is all he responds with, his own smile falling.

“Why did you not marry me?” You ask, voice wavering.

He sighs, stopping your walk and placing himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, giving them a squeeze. “I wanted to marry you, I still want to marry you. But, I could not let you wait for me, for if I were to not have come back, I would have made you a widow, and you did not deserve that. You are beautiful, Y/n. And you deserve to have the chance to have a long, healthy, and loving marriage.”

“My marriage is anything but loving,” you say bitterly, tears welling in your eyes. “Sure, he doesn’t belittle me like other husbands, but it is not a marriage forged out of love, Chan. It was a business transaction. I was property he wished to buy,” a single tear falls down your cheek, down your neck and soaking through the neckline of your gown. His heart breaks at seeing you cry. He cups your face, letting his thumb wipe the tears falling from your eyes away.“He will never love me the way you did.”

“I am sorry, y/n.”

“I would have waited for you,” you continue. “I would have waited lifetimes for you.”

He wakes up in the morning, confused. The sadness he felt within the dream stays with him as he gets ready for the day, unable to shake the sinking feeling in his stomach. It’s uncomfortable, and he tries to get it to go away by saying to himself in the bathroom mirror, “it’s just a dream. Why are you so upset about it?”

Upset about what?

“Oh,” Chan says, startled by Cato’s questioning voice in his head. “Just… A weird dream. It’s nothing.”

Whatever you say, human.

Chan doesn’t respond, brushing his teeth in a tense, perturbed, silence.

—

Classes were dragging. He’s unable to fully pay attention to what his professors are saying because he can’t get the dream out of his head. Why did it feel so… real? And familiar? Like it's actually happened before? And the loneliness in your eyes from the dream matched the loneliness he saw in them last night when you were talking about Seojun.

Your thinking is echoing and it’s annoying me. What was the dream about?

A nicer way of asking “what’s wrong” is just asking what’s wrong, you know.

Chan’s eyes roll, but he doesn’t do it himself.

Don’t roll my eyes for me, I’m the one in control right now.

Sorry, I just had to show you my annoyance somehow.

This time, Chan does roll his eyes.

“Hyung?” Minho whispers from next to him, tapping his pen against the older man’s forearm. “Are you okay? You keep rolling your eyes.”

Damn, were they that dramatic?

Roll your eyes quieter next time, idiot.

You’re the idiot.

“I’m okay,” Chan reassures quietly. “Just trying to keep them from falling shut.”

“Did you not get enough sleep again? Do I need to start coming over and knocking you out?” Minho balls his hand into a fist, and it takes everything in Chan to not laugh at his friends' antics. Before he can respond, though, their professor clears his throat in annoyance, giving them a glare from his spot in front of the lecture hall. They exchange embarrassed glances before going back to listening to the lecture.

He quickly makes eye contact with you from a few seats in front of him, and he watches in amusement as you scramble to face completely forward, flustered that he caught you staring at him. He exhales a laugh at your antics, shaking his head slightly as he goes back to typing on his laptop.

Cute.

Yeah.

After class ends, and Chan’s packing up his stuff, you walk up to him, your tote bag over your shoulder, giving him a shy smile. “You ready?”

Minho wiggles his eyebrows at Chan, and he tries not to notice how his cheeks flush at his younger friends' antics. “Yeah, let’s go,” he responds. He turns to Minho, who’s giving him a raised eyebrow. “See you around, Min.”

“Yeah,” the younger male responds. “Bye, y/n!” He waves her a goodbye, of which you copy quite excitedly. The corner of Chan’s lip turns up into a small smile at your antics towards the other male. He knows that out of their whole group, you seem to be closest with Minho and Hwang Hyunjin, always seeing you three together in passing. He wonders if you two will start getting closer, even after the project is finished. He hopes so. He doesn’t think he can go about just being casual to each other – especially after last night's conversation.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Your voice breaks through his thoughts, causing him to shake his head a bit in response.

Good going, idiot.

Shut up, Cato. As if you’ve done any better with her. Remember the convenience store?

This isn’t about me right now.

He fights rolling his eyes. “No reason,” he answers you. “Come on, let’s get some coffee.”

The cafe he took you to is the one right across the street from the building your class was held in. It used to be a house, now repurposed as a cafe, and it has the perfect homey feel to it to help you feel comfortable and relaxed as you picked a seat in one of the upstairs rooms that has a couple tables in each of them for a little more privacy. The morning sun is shining brightly into the window, and Chan can’t help but let out a small chuckle to himself as he watches the way you squint from the sun as you try and look out the window. “Should I close the blind?” He asks as he sits across from you, pushing your tea to your side.

“No,” you say as you happily pick up the cup. You blow on your tea to cool it down, and Chan can’t help but let his smile grow at the way your cheeks puff out dramatically when you blow on the drink. “I like sunbathing. Minho’s cats and I will lay on our bellies together in front of the big windows in his living room.”

“I’d love to see that sometime,” he laughs out. He doesn’t miss the way your cheeks flush and you giggle shyly in response. “I’m sure Min has a plethora of pictures of it.”

“Don’t tell him I told you but,” you start, taking a sip of your tea. “He joins us.”

“Somehow I really don’t doubt that.”

You fall into a rhythm once more over your project, and after a couple hours, you both decide to take a break.

“So, are you seeing anyone?” You ask him out of nowhere, now sipping on a second cup of tea. Chan chokes on his coffee, but he quickly covers it up by clearing his throat.

Cato laughs. Nice one.

Shut the fuck up, Cato.

“No, I’m not,” Chan answers, taking a more cautious sip now. “I’ve never actually been in a serious relationship.”

“Oh?” you say, quizzically. “So, you’ve never had a girlfriend?”

“No, I have.” He answers, his cheeks heating. He doesn’t understand why he’s so flustered with your questions, even if they did come out of nowhere. Well, he does understand why. He just doesn’t wanna say it out loud.

They weren’t y/n, though, right, Channie boy?

Cato, I swear to God.

Don’t bring the Big Man into this.

“But?” You inquire.

“But,” he copies. “They just didn’t work out. We wanted different things.” He shrugs, and you nod in understanding. “Why the sudden interest in my love life, y/n?” The teasing lilt to his voice causes you to stammer out, falling (rather cutely) over your words, trying your best to come up with a reason. Chan chuckles at the rattled expression on your face.

You know why she’s asking.

I don’t.

Don’t be stupid, Chan.

Chan fights a scoff at the god’s words, not wanting to give you the wrong impression. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to explain who’s camping in his consciousness with him without taking a trip to the nearest psych ward.

‘Man claims God lives in him’ has been a headline I’ve seen too much in the time humans have existed.

I wonder why.

Before Chan can continue the conversation he has with you (more like redirect it so he doesn’t have to admit to his commitment issues), something – or someone – catches your attention from behind him. The way your eyebrows furrow in confusion, and a flash of disdain that goes away as fast as it showed up cause Chan to turn around. A man is seating himself in the room across the hall, a blonde girl at his side as they laugh at something the man says. He turns back around to see that you’re still looking at them. “Y/n? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, that’s Seojun,” you say. Chan’s stomach drops, turning back around at the exact time Seojun turns to look at the two of you. Something flashes across the other man’s face, but it’s gone before Chan can even fully register what it is.

Seojun turns to the blonde next to him, before he turns back and starts walking towards their table. Seojun is… wow, is he tall. And buff. Chan almost feels intimated.

Oh great, here comes the jolly green giant.

Chan has to force himself to not laugh at Cato’s comment as he turns back to you. You give him a weird face, which he decides to ignore.

Cato, please.

I’m just saying. Why is God so unfair when he makes you humans? He could have given Seojun’s extra height to you.

Stop it!

No one needs to be that tall is all I’m saying.

“What are you doing here, babe?” Seojun asks as he stands next to you at the table, a rushed lilt to his voice. Almost like he’S panicking. Chan watches your face as it drops, the tight lipped smile you give to your boyfriend is clear to no one but him. “Who’s this?”

“This is Chan,” you answer. “He’s my partner for a project.”

“Hey. I’m her boyfriend, Seojun,” the other man says, outstretching his hand for Chan to take. He does, giving it a firm shake and a quick head nod in greeting. “Though, I’m sure you’ve already heard of me.”

Arrogant.

Tell me about it.

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty,” Chan responds, the snark in his voice subtle enough that it seems like a genuine compliment. “She said you were in finance.”

“Oh, yeah,” Seojun answers. “It’s gonna help out a lot, money wise. This girl right here wants a big wedding. Isn’t that right, babe?”

Chan’s eye twitches as he looks to you for your response. Your smile is that of discomfort, tight lipped as you rigidly nod your head, not making eye contact with Chan.

“Who are you with?” You ask, changing the subject as you strain your neck to look into the next room. “Is that Aecha?”

Seojun’s face drops. “Oh, uh, no. That's my project partner,” he answers quickly. “We have a business plan due in a couple weeks so we’re meeting to get it done early.”

“Oh, okay,” you say simply. Your eyes stay on the girl in the other room, squinting a little in suspicion.“I didn’t know you had a project.”

“Yeah,” Seojun rubs his neck, almost nervously. “Well, I should get back to her. I’ll leave you two alone, now. Don’t forget about the dinner with our parents tomorrow.”

“How could I,” you mutter as he starts walking away. “I’ll see you later.”

Chan’s almost grateful that Seojun didn’t kiss you. It seems you look grateful he didn’t, too. He can’t help but notice the way your mood instantly sours after Seojun leaves, though you try not to show it too much. You give him a forced smile. “Shall we continue with our project then?” You ask him, your voice pitches higher towards the end, and Chan knows you’re uncomfortable.

I don’t like him.

Neither do I.

________________

❝i could die in your arms.❞

Eve is giggling.

She’s resting her head on the soft grass that encases her body, the edges of the blades tickling against her naked waist. Cato lays next to her, chuckling along with her. “So,” she starts as she sits up on her side, picking a flower from the field and rolling it between her fingers gently. “If your name means all-knowing… Does that mean you’re a god of knowledge?”

Cato quiets. Eerily quiet. In the short time Eve has known him as his humanly self, he is never short of words. He always has a story or a joke to tell, Eve wonders how his puny human lungs can even hold that much air for him to talk so much. So, for him to go as quiet as he did, she worries.

“Did I say something to upset you?” she asks, her delicate fingers stopping its movements. He also sits up on his side, letting his long fingers brush through the front of her hair as a small smile encases his beautiful face.

“No, my angel,” he responds. “You could never do anything to upset me,” his thumb swiped gently across her bottom lip, and then down her chin before his hand fell back to his side. Eve feels her face heat up. “I’m not the god of knowledge, as you might think. Actually… I’m a calamity god.”

Eve doesn’t respond. “Like… the flood? That kind of calamity?”

He nods. “I was ordered to flood the earth myself.”

“It killed everyone…” Eve whispers, widened eyes filled with tears. “Why?”

“God is…” Cato trails, unsure if he should continue. His eyes, so beautiful and such a deep color, cascade down to glare at the grass blades dancing in the wind, unbeknownst to them that a god is staring them down with a look of disdain on his expression. Eve can see the regret and the anger in his eyes as he stares down at the earth beneath them. Eve wishes she can rid him of the hatred he feels for himself.

He doesn’t have to say anything, though. Because Eve knows how God is. She knows how He is all too well. For she, too, has been forced to be things she does not wish to be, solely because the person who created her says so. Her own eyes well with tears. Tears of anger and sadness, for both her and Cato. She doesn’t think anyone on this damned planet will ever understand them the way they do each other.

“Did you want to?” She asks. Cato shakes his head.

“I didn’t have a choice,” he adds. “It’s what I was created for. To bring destruction.”

“I think you’re more than what you were meant for.” She says, a smile on her face.

Eve doesn’t expect it, but the god starts crying. And as he cries, she cradles him in her arms, brushing her fingers through his curly hair. “You are good, Cato,” she whispers in his ear, letting her lips ghost gently against the shell of it. “It does not matter what you have done, you are good.”

She presses a gentle kiss to his temple as his wails echo in the garden.

________________

Chan doesn’t hear from you all weekend. You weren’t in class Friday morning, and you haven’t answered any of his messages since before your dinner with your parents. He hasn’t thought much of it. He assumed you had a late night on Thursday and just skipped class the next morning because you were nursing a hangover.

“Hey, have you heard from y/n?” Minho asks him Monday afternoon, when their whole group is sitting at a table in the cafeteria. “I’m only asking because you two have been… close recently.”

His cheeks flush as he watches his other friends look at him with widened eyes and agape mouths. “Uh, no I haven’t. I was actually just gonna ask you the same thing.”

“Didn’t she have dinner with her parents on Thursday?” Jeongin asks. Chan nods in response. “Last I heard from her was when she was asking me which outfit was appropriate for the dinner, she didn’t seem like she wanted to go, though.”

“Yeah, she was texting our group chat during it and she wasn’t having a very good time. But she never usually does with her parents involved.” Hyunjin adds, taking a bite of his noodles.

“What group chat? I didn’t get anything in our group chat,” Jisung whines, opening his phone to double check.

“Me, y/n, Minho hyung and Felix all have a separate group chat together,” Hyunjin answers casually. “She was texting in there.”

Chan tunes them out as Jisung and Changbin start whining that they want a group chat with you, but all Chan can focus on is how you’ve gone completely silent since Wednesday.

“Hey, hyung,” Felix says, getting the older man’s attention by waving his small hand in front of his face. “Don’t worry about y/n. She’s okay. She goes ghost like this sometimes, especially after an event with her parents. She’ll come back around soon, she just needs to recharge.”

“Are you mad at her for not answering you?” Minho questions, eyebrow raised. The younger male looked as if he was waiting for Chan to answer the wrong way.

“No, of course not. Why would I be?” Chan shakes his head in response. “I was just worried. We’ve just… been talking a lot recently and I wasn’t sure if I did something to upset her or anything.”

“I don’t think you could ever do anything to upset her.” Felix mutters, and Chan watches in confusion as he and Hyunjin both share a knowing look with one another. Minho elbows Hyunjin in the ribs.

It means she likes you, idiot.

Do you know how to be nice?

Chan doesn’t get any response from you until Tuesday night. A simple “can i come over?” was all you sent him.

Now, he’s panickedly cleaning his apartment while he waits anxiously for you.

Why don’t you clean like this on a normal day?

“Because,” Chan grunts as he scrubs at a particular stain in his bowl. “I’m a busy guy and don’t have time to keep up with things regularly.”

Just as Cato is about to respond, there's a knock on the front door. Chan stops in his tracks, hurriedly rinsing the bowl and adding the last couple of dishes into one side of the sink to hide them as he runs to answer the door, clumsily drying his hands on his pants. When he opens the door, you’re standing there, glaring at the space where the door was a second ago. “Hey,” he says, which snaps you out of your trance to look up at him.

“Hi,” you answer softly, smiling. Though it doesn’t match the defeated look in your eyes. “Can I come in?”

Chan nods, stepping aside as you walk into his apartment. He follows you to his couch, where you both sit on opposite ends. Your legs immediately go up, knees pressing against your chest as you wrap your arms around your legs. You’re not making eye contact with Chan, and it makes his stomach hollow in anxiety. You look so sad it almost feels like it’s creeping into his bones, souring his mood and ramping up his anxiety as he sees you cave in on yourself from the other end of his couch. He watches as you bat away tears, rolling your eyes in annoyance as they fill your pretty eyes.

“Is there something you want to talk about?” Chan asks softly, scooting himself closer to you. He crosses his legs on his couch and turns his body to you, giving you a softened, welcoming look. The hand that isn’t propping his head against the back of the couch is twitching on his legs to reach out, to hold yours to comfort you. But he doesn’t want to over step and make you uncomfortable. You don’t answer, seemingly falling back into a spaced out trance, if the unfocus in your eyes is anything to go by. He lets his finger gently rub against your shin to get your attention, and he watches as your eyes fill with tears once more as you look up at him. “What’s wrong, y/n?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head, biting the inside of your lip. “Just… wanted to see you.”

Chan doesn’t believe it, giving you a raised eyebrow. “Just to see me?”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing. “I missed you is all,” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, giving him a small smile. “I got used to seeing you all the time now.”

Chan’s cheeks flush, and he tries not to let his smile get too dopey as his heart flutters at your words.

Oh! You pathetic man.

Stop.

“How was the dinner with your parents?” Chan asks. You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your throat as you look away from him. “Was it bad?”

You’re quiet. You look as if you want to say something, the words on the tip of your tongue and threatening to spill over. But you hesitate. You’re biting your tongue as you contemplate your next words. It almost concerns him.

“If I do something,” you start quietly. “Would you be mad?”

Chan’s eyebrows scrunch, his head tilting to the side in question. “What is it?”

“Can I try something?” Eve asks, tilting her head as her eyes flicker between Cato’s mouth and his pretty dark eyes. Cato nods, watching in nervous anticipation as Eve climbs over his lap, plush thighs on either side of his lips as she leans in and ghosts her lips against his.

Cato catches her mouth in a soft, tender kiss. It raises goosebumps to their skin, and their heartbeats quicken. Eve’s belly erupts in butterflies, climbing up her throat and she lets out a small sound. Cato hands find home at her waist, the pads of his fingers indenting her skin as he squeezes gently.

You finally look at him, eyes flitting down the length of his face, stopping at his mouth before looking at him again. Your gaze flickers between his mouth and his eyes before you lean forward, your nose ghosting against his as your lips meet. Chan responds immediately, cupping your face and deepening the kiss.

It’s shy, yet so electric. The butterflies you feel in your stomach are intense, prickling up your back and making you light headed. It isn’t long before you're clamoring across the couch and into Chan’s lap. His hands slide down your waist before he wraps his arms around your back, caging you into his body. He keeps his mouth working against yours, and can’t help the way his cock jumps when your hips shift a little, pressing your clothed core against him. Your hands hold his face, your thumb brushing against the apples of his cheeks every once and a while. His heart swells at the noises you make as you shyly start to grind yourself down against him, wanting to feel him more and more against you.

Should you really be doing that?

Doing what?

Kissing someone who isn’t yours.

“Wait,” Chan says as he pulls back. He has to swallow the groan that’s threatening to escape his throat as he takes in the sight of you. Your cheeks are red, lips swollen and spit slick. You already look so fucked out and all he’s done is kiss you. He feels like he’s going crazy. “What about Seojun?”

“What about Adam?” Cato asks Eve as he breaks away, his fingers rubbing circles on her hips.

“It was never Seojun,” You respond, shaking your head. Your thumb swipes against his cheek. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Chan.”

“It was never Adam,” Eve responds, nails digging into the skin on his shoulders. “I waited for you for so long, Cato.”

“Since the day I met you,” you continued, breathless. Somehow, your cheeks turn redder. He doesn’t think you could look more angelic than right now. “I’ve wanted you.”

“Since the day I came into existence,” Eve sighs out. Cato thinks she looks absolutely ethereal this way. “I’ve waited for you.”

Cato can’t help the smile that stretches across his lips as he leans up to kiss her again.

Chan doesn’t respond, only placing a hand at the back of your neck and pulling you back down to him. He kisses you again, this time a little more desperate, a little more aggressive. You whine, letting your lips fall open so his tongue can explore inside your mouth. Your mouths work in perfect sync with one another, a desperate, needy, rhythm that says more than any words in the English and Korean lexicon could ever say. He can’t explain the way he feels while he’s kissing you, but he feels as if clouds are filling his head.

His hands move back to your hips, helping you to grind down against his hardened cock, and he doesn’t miss the way your whines sound more and more breathy each time he moves you against him. “Have you ever had sex before?” He asks you.

“No,” you say. “No one’s ever touched me, either.”

“You mean, in the three years you’ve been with Seojun, he hasn’t fucked you once?” Chan asks, eyebrows furrowing and a sense of pride filling his chest. You shake your head. “Why?”

“I didn’t want him to.” You whisper.

He doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your waist as he stands up from his couch, carrying you into his bedroom and gently placing you atop his sheets.

Cato lays her naked body gently on her back in the soft grass. She looks so pretty like this, some of hair still laying softly over her shoulders and the rest blending beautifully with the grass, eyes widened in curiosity. “I got you, my love,” he says in a gentle voice as he crawls over her. “Let me show you how much you mean to me.”

He thinks this sight alone is enough to be painted and framed in a gallery. Eve, splayed out like this for him with her ruddy cheeks and widened eyes. It was a sight he never wanted to stop seeing.

He kisses her again before letting his mouth move from her own to her cheek, jaw, then down her neck, biting softly on his way down.

Chan unbuttons your jeans, and you help him with getting them off your legs and onto his floor. He takes off your shirt and bra next, leaving you only in your underwear. He crawls over you, his thigh slotting in between your legs and ghosting against your clothed cunt. “Let me take care of you, my love.”

He kisses your lips once more before he places a kiss on your cheek, then along your jaw, then down the expense of your neck, leaving pretty purple marks along the way. He stops at your breasts, ghosting his mouth around one nipple before taking it into his mouth. His free hand comes to tweak the other, softly pinching and rubbing along the top of it while his mouth works at the other. Your hand weaves its way into his soft curls, pushing them off his forehead so you can see what he’s doing better. He almost moans at the feeling of your hips bucking up to slide your cunt against his thigh.

“Just like that, angel,” he mutters against your skin. You whine, your fingers almost kneading the top of his head. He presses his thigh more into your core, giving you more friction that makes your sensitive body jolt and your breath hitch.

He doesn’t stay long at your breasts, opting to let his kisses and marks trail down your torso, right to your hips. He settles onto his stomach, hands holding the under part of your hips as he takes in the sight of your cunt. A wet patch has soaked through your underwear, sticking to your lips and outlining the shape of you. He presses a gentle kiss against the wet patch, and he doesn’t miss the way your hips jolt back. “Chan,” You whine.

“Yes?” He coos, freeing a hand from under you and letting his pointer finger gently ghost along your cunt. You wiggle your hips, trying to get more pressure from his finger but he pulls it away. “You have to tell me what you want, angel. Wiggling your hips isn’t gonna help me know what you want.”

He watches in adoration as your cheeks flush yet again, your eyes darting to look everywhere but at him as you worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “I want you to touch me,” you whisper. “Please, touch me.” Your words come out so breathy, so desperate, it makes Chan’s head want to explode. He gives you a smile.

“Anything for you, my love,” he responds before he sits back up on his knees, letting his fingers grab ahold of the waistband of your panties and sliding them slowly down your legs with your help. They fall somewhere on the edge of the bed behind him, but it’s not something he’s concerned about as the musky smell of your cunt hits his nose again as he lays back down. Your cunt glistens so prettily for him, and he forces himself to hold in a moan. “You’re so pretty.”

His fingers slide up and down between your swollen lips, and you let out small whines whenever his fingers rub a teasing circle against your clit that’s peeking out between your slit. He kisses along your inner thighs, across your mound as he slowly inserts a finger into your entrance.

Cato kisses along Eve’s thighs, before he gives a broad swipe of his tongue up the expense of her cunt. She gasps, hips twitching. “Has he ever done this to you?”

“No,” Eve sighs out as Cato gives another broad swipe. “He barely touches me.” Cato doesn’t respond, letting his tongue circle around Eve’s clit, which elicits a moan to fall from her pretty mouth.

“Don’t worry, my angel,” Cato says. “I’ll show you just how a man should love you.”

Your walls clench around his finger, and he places gentle kisses against your sensitive nub, whispering, “Relax, baby. I got you.” Your body deflates when you let out the breath you were holding, your own hand falling towards the hand that’s gripping onto your hip. You intertwine your fingers together, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze as he crooks his finger up into that spongy spot that has your back arching slightly and a gasp falling from your pretty lips. His mouth attaches itself to your clit, alternating between lightly sucking and feverish kitten licks. Your hand squeezes his as shy moans involuntarily fall from your lips at his ministrations.

He feels his cock pulsing at each sound you let out, and he can’t help but grind his hips down onto the bed for some friction of his own. “Chan, more, please,” you whine out, bucking your hips into his face. He doesn’t hesitate to add another finger, scissoring you open as his mouth continues at your clit. He pumps his fingers in and out of your entrance slowly, making sure to hook up when he plunges back in. You’re so tight around his fingers, and he can’t help but let out a moan at the thought of you taking his cock, sucking him into your warm walls. The fact that no one has ever touched you – not even your own boyfriend – and that he has the honor of being your first is driving him up a wall.

Only he gets to see you this way. Only he gets to hear your whiny moans, and only he gets to see the pretty way your body reacts to his touch. He can't help but let his fingers get a little faster, a little more prominent in the way they press against that sweet spot that has the coil tightening in the pit of your belly. “Chan.”

“You gonna cum, angel?” He asks against your pussy, keeping his steady yet harsh rhythm of his fingers plunging into your hole. You let out a hum as your response, and he can’t help but smile against your cunt. He keeps his mouth on your clit, his eyes rolling back as you let out another moan, your hips bucking to feel more, more, more. You clench around his fingers, your pretty sounds are strangled as your body clenches up, and that’s when he knows to remove his mouth from your clit, watching your face as your jaw slacks, and your body writhes so prettily under him. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.” He slows his fingers, helping you ride out your high on his fingers. You feel so much more wet than before, and it takes every ounce of control Chan has to not dive back in and overstimulate you, drive you to another one. And another one. Until you’re spent and begging for him to stop, yet pushing him closer to continue.

Next time.

He moves up your body, and kisses you again. You let out a whine when you taste yourself on his tongue, your own essence covering your chin from his own as he licks into your mouth. You use your legs to redirect him, so his clothed cock lines up with your dripping pussy as he grinds his hips down against you. You shiver, still sensitive from just a second ago. “I want you,” you whisper. He pulls away, looking at you with widened eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “Cause if you’re actually not ready, tell me. I’ll wait for you.”

“I’ve waited for you long enough,” you answer, rutting your hips up against him. He sucks in a breath. “Please?”

Chan only nods as he climbs off you to discard his clothes to the floor. The bruising on his side hasn’t fully gone away, but it’s not as bad as it was last week. “Was that from your fall?” You ask him as he climbs over you again, your delicate fingers ghosting over his ribcage.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, looking down at your hand. “I didn’t actually fall, though. I got hit by a car.”

“I know.”

Chan gives you a double take, eyebrows scrunched and his mouth agape in confusion. You giggle and press a chaste kiss to his lips. “You know?”

“Yeah, I was with Changbin and Jisung when he got the call,” you respond, still giggling. “I just figured you said you fell to not worry me.”

Yeah, we can go with that. Really I was just saving you the embarrassment. Who gets hit by cars these days?

Don’t ruin this, Cato.

Chan only chuckles softly, his smile widening and crinkling his eyes in such a pretty way. You can’t help but lean up and press your lips to his, your hands cupping his cheeks to bring his face down with yours. He kisses you back quickly, letting you take the lead as he opens your legs and maneuvers himself so his cock can glide along your slit. You lift your legs more, letting the head of his cock catch along your entrance. “Please,” you whisper against his mouth. “I’m ready.”

Chan moves a hand down to guide the tip of his cock into your entrance, and he goes slow as he sheathes himself inside. You tense up, the pressure a foreign feeling. “Relax,” he whispers, kissing along your cheek and down your jaw. A small whine leaves your mouth and he stills his hips immediately. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt it just… feels full.”

“Yeah?” He asks, letting himself move again. One his hips are touching yours, you can fully feel him snugly inside you. You feel so full, and it’s so overwhelming but so addictive at the same time. It feels as if you were molded to fit him. He gives an experimental movement, and your hands immediately go to his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. “You okay?”

“Yeah. You can move.” He kisses you, distracting you as he pulls out and then plunges back in again. He keeps it at a slow rhythm at first, letting you get used to the feeling before he gradually starts speeding up. You were so tight around him, your velvety walls welcoming him in with each time the head of his cock ghosts along that spongy part that has the breath punched out of you again and again.

“You feel so good, angel,” he grunts against your neck. “Like you were made for me.” You can only choke out a moan in response, nails raking over his shoulders. He intertwines his fingers with yours above your head, and he digs his face further into your neck as he places wet kisses along it.

Cato intertwined his fingers with Eve’s as he slowly moved his hips. “You’re mine?” Cato asked.

“Yours. I’m yours,” Eve gasped in response.“I love you.” Cato can only smile as he dips his head down to capture her lips in a messy kiss.

Chan keeps a steady pace, making sure to angle himself upwards when he thrusts back in. He hits deep, stretching you around his cock and every time he’s at the hilt, it knocks the wind out of your lungs. The breathy moans you let out at each thrust sends Chan deeper and deeper into the clouds, mind hazy and senses full of you. You’re everywhere, it seems, encasing his body in yours as the whole world melts away. He about loses his hold on himself when your quivering walls start clenching around him, greedily sucking him back in. His thrusts speed up, his one hand letting go of yours and finding home under your head, a fist full of hair as he brings your body as close to his as possible. The feel of your breasts pressing against his chest grounds him a bit, and he lets out a strained moan from the back of his throat.

“Cum in me,” you manage to say in between strangled sounds. “I want it, please.”

“Just a little more,” Chan grunts out. “Almost there. Fuck, you feel so good. You’re so good for me, angel.”

Chan’s hips still, his cum shooting into you and painting your walls. He moans, whiney, as he shoves his face back into your neck. Your hands move to his hair, raking through it as you whisper in his ear.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

—

You spend the night at Chan’s house, only sending a simple message to your group chat with Hyunjin, Minho, and Felix where you were staying and that you were okay. Your simple message respectively blows up the group chat, with Felix and Hyunjin practically screaming to tell them details, and then Minho crashing into your world like a meteor with one single question.

Did you break up with Seojun?

You decided not to answer that question (because you haven’t), only texting back that you’ll explain when you get back to class on Friday and then shakily put your phone down on the coffee table. You look over towards the kitchen to see Chan’s back towards you, the sizzling of the food in the pan the only sound filling the apartment. You can’t help but smile at the sight. You uncross your legs from the couch, walking into the kitchen area and standing behind Chan. Your arms wrap lovingly around his waist, your cheek pressing into his back and you feel his body relax into your hold. He turns down the stove and turns around in your hold, a smile adorning his features as he places a kiss against your lips.

“Thanks for letting me stay last night,” you say as he pulls away from you. “I didn’t want to face Ryujin’s interrogation yet.”

“Well, now you’re gonna have to face mine,” Chan says, raising his eyebrow at you. You smile sheepishly at him, your gaze tearing away from his. He lifts your chin up, forcing you to keep eye contact. “What happened?”

You sigh, pulling your body away. You run your hand over your face as you lean against the counter behind you. Chan does the same on the opposite side, giving you an expectant look as he waits for you to start talking. “I found out Seojun was cheating on me. At the dinner.” You say, voice a little shaky.

Chan pauses, and his stomach drops. Seojun was cheating?

Don’t act as if you aren’t happy to hear that.

I’m not happy! That’s awful!

You know what I mean, you idiot. You’re happy he’s out of the way now.

Chan doesn’t respond to Cato, focusing his attention back to you. “I’m so sorry, y/n,” he responds, his arm stretching over to place a comforting hand on your shoulder. “You don’t deserve that.”

You take in a breath. “Yeah, well,” you shrug. “It happens. Sad thing is, I can’t even say I’m surprised. Looking back, it makes a lot of sense.”

Chan’s eyebrow furrows. “Did… you break up with him?”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. “I… haven’t yet.”

And you slept with her.

“You… You haven’t?” He asks, confusion painting across his face. “Why?”

“I— I was going to,” you start. “I just… I wanted to see you first,”

“y/n,” Chan says, voice shaky. “Am I a rebound?”

You shake your head vigorously, your own eyes shining with unshed tears. “No! No, I really wasn’t planning on last night happening at all. I wanted to break up with him first but I just… I don’t know, I had to see you first.”

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks. “About wanting to be with me as long as you said?”

“Yes,” you nod. “If you don’t believe me, you can ask Hyunjin or Felix. Even Minho. They know how I feel about you.”

Chan’s quiet. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know what to think. On one hand, the selfish hand, he’s over the moon he had you in his bed last night, and he’s still a bit drunk off your words from last night. But, on the other hand, he wants to send you on your way, to give himself, and you, some space. He can’t believe he didn’t prod further about what you meant last night. He just assumed by your confession, you had already broken it off with Seojun.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I should probably go.”

“Call me when you break it off with Seojun, okay?” Chan finally says, nodding his head. His heart clenches as he sees a tear fall down your face. “We’ll talk about us after that.”

The silence that replaces the apartment after you leave is deafening.

Chan?

“Not now, Cato,” Chan replies, shaking his head. He can feel a migraine coming on, his eyes becoming sore and sensitive to the bright lights of his kitchen. “Shit,” a pained whimper falls from his throat as he massages his eyes. “I think I need to call someone.”

I remember why I came to Earth.

“Can it wait until later, please?” Chan winces, annoyance mixing with the pain in his voice. “My head is fucking splitting.”

Chan…

“Cato, for fucks sake, please!” He yells, which makes his head pound even more. “I can’t figure out your problem right now.”

Cato doesn’t respond.

Chan calls Minho, which in hindsight probably wasn’t the best idea, but he knew Jisung and Changbin would be loud and dramatic and he really didn’t want that right now. Minho is quiet, and he knows what to do when Chan is under the weather.

The younger male is quick to arrive, immediately shoving pain pills into Chan’s hand and ordering him to take them. “Were you making something?” Minho asks as he points to the pan.

“Oh, yeah,” Chan said from the couch. His head feels as if it can explode. “I was making y/n and I breakfast when—” he stops himself, looking over through his lashes at the other man.

“I already know,” Minho says. “So, where is she?”

“Uh, well,” Chan starts, having to take a second to will away the urge to vomit. “I slept with her…”

“And?”

“She never broke up with Seojun before we did.” Minho sighs, shaking his head as he joins the brunette on the couch.

“I told her she needed to do that first,” Minho responds. “She’s just as impulsive as Han Jisung. Worse than Han Jisung, actually.”

Chan wants to chuckle, but his head is somehow getting worse. His body starts aching again, as if the bruises are coming back. And suddenly it hurts to breathe. “Min,” he grunts out. “Min, I think we need to go to the hospital.”

“What’s wrong?”

Chan?

I feel like I’m fucking dying again.

Chan collapses to the floor, and when Minho slides down with him does he notice the blood pooling and staining the rug underneath the older man’s head. “Fuck. Fuck, okay. Hold on, hyung. I’m calling for help.”

Suddenly an otherworldly amount of pressure is pressing on Chan’s body, like the weight of the skies is laying flat along where he lays in his living room. He starts to panic, lungs starting to work overtime as Minho calls the emergency hotline from somewhere in the room.

Cato, what’s going on?

Your… Your injuries are coming back.

A white, blinding light floods Chan’s vision from the ceiling, and he feels a pull from the light.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Cato?

I’m getting taken back, Chan.

Cato! Don’t leave me!

The air slowly leaves his lungs, deflating like a balloon that wasn’t tied. He feels like a layer of his skin is being peeled away as the pressure in his head worsens, and Cato’s voice gets farther and farther away.

“Ca—” Chan tries to call out to him, but he passes out before he could.

I’m dying.

________________

❝took my breath from my open mouth, never known how it broke me down.❞

Cato and Eve snuck around under Adam’s nose after that fateful morning in the garden. Always meeting at the spot where they first met, making love to the song of the stream whenever they could. It felt different with Cato. It felt… good. Like lying with this man wasn’t a chore, but something she felt was their way of bonding. Connecting. She didn’t give a damn what God said.

She was not made for Adam. She and the god, Cato, were weaved from the same essence that brought them life — a single soul split into two different beings. And by lying with him, it strengthened that. She was his, as he was hers.

Cato was such a gentle lover, compared to Adam (if you could even call Adam a lover). Cato took her into his arms and worshiped her body as if she was a Goddess herself. The way his fingers indented her skin on her hips when his head was in between her thighs, lapping at her nectar, had her seeing stars. She found God in a lover, and the forbidden fruit tasted so sweet on her tongue.

Eve was happy.

That happiness didn't last long, though. And she was foolish to think it would.

She swore Adam went out to hunt that day, she saw him off. So, how he managed to find Eve at the stream hanging off a cock that wasn’t his, she’ll never know.

Adam told God right away.

Cato was ripped from her before she could even get to her knees. Before she could beg. She watched as a bright light encased Cato’s earthly body from the heavens, the light so blinding she’s forced to look to the ground if she still wished to keep her sight. She wailed that day, a mantra of inhuman, throat curdling sounds ripped from deep within her core as she punched her fists into the soil.

“Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!” She howled. Adam stood behind her, face stoic as he watched Eve mourn the loss of her lover.

“It’s what you deserve,” Adam spits. “You’re lucky I’m gracious enough to let you live. Your pretty face would be one with stone if I was anyone else.”

Eve’s crying stopped then. The garden of Eden was silent, not even the stream was brave enough to sing. Everything was dead still, a simmering animosity burned brightly just under the surface of Eve’s plush skin. Adam’s stoicism fell as he caught the look on his wife’s face.

It was that of pure, unadulterated rage.

“I should have strung you up to that tree when I had the chance.” The venom drips from her words and poisons Adam’s veins the second they hit him.

—

“You weren’t supposed to tempt Eve,” God’s commanding voice boomed across the heavens. Cato sat on his knees, wrists and ankles chained to the marble ground. Different god’s sat around, watching the serpent intently, curious as to what was to happen to him. “You weren’t even supposed to make yourself known to her.”

“I told you why I was going to Earth,” Cato responded, voice tired. “I told you I fell for someone.”

“And that person was not supposed to be Eve!” Thunder cracked angrily across the sky. Murmurs erupted among the other gods. “You have tainted her, driven her off her path to her purpose.”

“Her purpose?” Cato repeated, indignant. “Her purpose is to be a breeding cow for a man who can’t even bother to see her as his equal?”

“And you were equals?” God laughed, a bellowing, boom laugh at the lesser god’s foolishness. “You’re a god, Cato. A heavenly entity that simple mortals can barely fathom the concept of. And you think Eve and you are equals?”

“I love her.”

Whispers of “love her?” echo through the chamber.

“She’s not yours to love!” God’s angry voice silenced the whispers, a tense stillness crushing Cato and pressing on his lungs. “You know I have to punish you.”

“Punish me all you wish,” Cato spat. “It will never deter how I feel for Eve.”

“Oh, my sweet child, it will.”

—

Cato wakes to cold biting at his skin. It’s so cold, so so cold. His eyes open to gray skies and heavy snow sprinkling along his cheeks. Snow covered trees line the horizon of his bleary vision, head pounding and body aching. He moves his fingers, feeling under the layer of snow and making way to the dead grass underneath.

He’s on Earth.

He tries to sit up, but his chest is burning and he’s having a hard time moving his arms. He feels like his body is being held down by a cinder block, unable to move himself from his spot.

“General Bang!” A voice shouts, muffled. He moves his head to find the voice, but a face comes into his line of vision as he looks right. “General Bang! You’re badly injured, don’t move. Wagon! I need a wagon!”

“What happened?” Cato whispers out, and the man grabs one of his hands from the snow. “Who are you?”

“It’s Hwang!” the man yells. “Hwang Hyunjin, do you remember?”

Cato wasn't able to respond as his eyes fell heavy and then closed.

When he awakes again, he is in a tent. He shoots up in a panic, looking around the space. A sharp pain shoots through his chest, making him groan and his elbows give out. “Hey, easy,” the same man says as he helps Cato lay back down. Hyunjin. His long black hair is tied up out of his face, a look of relief washing over it as he settles back down in the chair next to Cato’s cot. “You got a pretty nasty gash across your chest. It’s a miracle you didn’t die out there, Chan.”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“I mean a dozen other men died from the same wound,” Hyunjin responds. “Your guardian angel is really looking out for you.”

“What happened?”

“Did you hit your head? We’re in a war,” Hyunjin responds, his eyebrows furrowed. “This was the most brutal battle we’ve fought in three years. How hard did you hit your head?”

Chan’s memories of the past couple years flash in Cato’s mind – like a short synopsis of what his vessel has been up to before he took over. Cato realizes that at that moment, Chan was dead. Cato was the sole entity keeping this body alive.

But why?

“Pretty hard, I guess,” Cato chuckles in response. “Does that mean… we won?”

“You bet your ass we did,” a smirk spreads across the male’s mouth. “We lost a lot of good men out there, though. Not looking forward to letting their wives know they’re widows now,” Cato nods his head, his gaze flitting around the ceiling of the medical tent. Hyunjin nudges his arm again, a grin on his face. “Are you gonna go back to y/n?”

A pulse shoots throughout his entire body at the mention of your name, a sinking feeling in his stomach that’s accompanied by the racing of his heart. He only shrugs. “If she’ll have me.”

“I don’t think she’d have anyone else.”

—

The war ends, and the troops all come back home. And Cato finds himself in front of a beautiful castle. Memories of Chan courting you for years flash in his mind. He seemed to have really adored you. Cato feels a twinge in his heart at the thought that Chan will never be able to experience being with you.

But, to Cato, you give him an overwhelming sense of deja vu. Like he already knew you. Like he already knew your body, your soul, like the back of his hand. So, when he visits you after three long years, and you were already taken by another man, his heart shatters. For Chan, and for another unknown reason he doesn’t think he’s ready to explore.

He still walks with you in the garden that day. Your arms are linked together, and he can’t help but stare at the side of your angelic face as you giggle at something he says. “You are a character, Mr. Bang,” you say in between giggles. “I sure am glad you came home from the war, alive and healthy.”

“I see,” is all he responds with, his own smile falling.

“Why did you not marry me?” You ask, voice wavering.

“I am sorry, y/n.”

“I would have waited for you,” you continue. “I would have waited lifetimes for you.”

Cato doesn’t respond, only letting his eyes flicker around your face, sadness overtaking his gaze. You both stare at one another, so close to each other. It’s quiet, between you two. Not tense, but not comfortable either.

His eyes widen in shock when you lean up to kiss his lips. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back, letting his hands cup your cheeks. You pull away after a second though, tears pulling into your eyes. “I’m sorry, I just… needed to know what it felt like to kiss you.”

You turn and walk away, leaving him alone in the garden with the taste of you still on his lips.

Cato is sentenced to live a life next to the reincarnation of Eve, always at his fingertips but never having the right to have her. Chan’s soul was with him for every single one. Each life is a punishment, a test. Each time he gives into his temptation of having Eve to himself, of dancing along that line with her, he is ripped from his mortal body and Chan’s own soul is torn with him.

Chan dies every time.

Again. And again. And again. And again. For millennia, Cato is subjected to always losing Eve in the most brutal of ways just as he finally thinks he has her for himself. As soon as he lies with her, he is forced to leave her soon after.

He can never escape it.

________________

❝i won’t die for love, but ever since i met you, you could have my heart and I would break it for you.❞

Cato sits on his knees in a desolate chamber. It’s deathly still, and eerily silent. The only sound is his breathing – which is slowed. His wrists, bound in enchanted steel cuffs, sit chained to the ground in front of where he sits on his knees. His hair lays on his shoulders, dirty and knotted. He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting here — it could be months. It could be centuries.

He doesn’t think he cares anymore.

Chan is dead. He has to be. There’s no way he managed to survive the way Cato was ripped out of him like that. He hasn’t survived it in any of the lifetimes Cato spent using his body.

It was cruel — the way Cato and Chan are subjected to this, lifetime after lifetime, a never ending cycle of Chan losing his life before he can even turn thirty all because Cato fell for someone he had no business falling for. He grimaces to himself, shaking his head in defeat as he remembers the way Chan was crying out for him when he was ripped from his subconsciousness.

“When are you ever going to learn?” A voice echoes in the chamber. God.

“I do not wish to speak of this.” Cato snaps.

“Don’t you wish to see how Chan is doing?” God asks, snapping his fingers. A gateway to Earth opens under Cato, and he watches in horror as medics work on his dying body in the middle of his living room floor. “He’s still holding on. For now.”

Cato looks away, clamping his eyes shut. He couldn’t bear to see Chan like that. Not when he knows he’s the cause of it.

Chan is going to die. Again.

“Please,” Cato whispers. “Please, kill me.”

“Kill you?” God repeats.

“Yes, fuck!” Cato spits, his shout echoing deafeningly throughout the empty chambers. The silence that refills the space is enough for the god to break, sobs racking through his body from where he is chained. “I can’t do this anymore. Let Chan live, and let me die. Please.”

God does not respond, only watching as the calamity god wails, a mixture of snot and tears pooling on the concrete from under them. He takes a deep breath before speaking. “Is that what you truly want?”

Cato can only nod his head. “Chan’s life, for my mortality,” he responds, still crying. “I can’t keep watching him die.”

“You know that means he might not be reincarnated,” God says. “The only reason Chan is a living soul on earth was for you to use him as your vessel. He’s not needed after that.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Cato shakes his head. “That’s a better outcome than having to die before twenty six every single time.”

“How do you wish to go?”

“Like Icarus,” he doesn’t hesitate to respond. “I will fling myself into the sun.”

________________

Walking away from Chan has to be the hardest thing you’ve done.

You genuinely weren’t planning on sleeping with him the night before. You don’t know what took over you. It just happened. That’s not to say you regret it, though. Because you don’t. While you’ve never slept with someone before, laying underneath Chan felt so… right. Even if it is wrong from a moral standpoint. But, it felt otherworldly. Not just because the sex was good, but you felt as if it was meant to happen. You and Chan were meant to happen. As cliche as it is, and you cringe thinking of it, you wholeheartedly believe you and Chan were written in the stars, destined to find each other in this life. And the next. Nothing has felt more clear than being with him, and you use that as courage to knock on Seojun’s door.

When he opens it, he’s still in his sleep clothes. “Did I wake you?” You ask, voice and face void of any emotion.

“Kinda,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “What’s up?”

“I just came to say that I know you’re cheating on me,” you start. His eyes widen in quick panic, and he’s about to respond when you put your hand up to stop him as you shake your head. “I just want to tell you that we’re even. And it’s over.”

“You cheated on me?” Seojun repeats, indignation in his voice. “You fucking whore!”

“Yeah, save it, Seojun,” You scoff, shaking your head. “I already know about Aecha so you have no room to take a moral fucking high ground. Just nod and say okay and shut the door with what little dignity you have still intact.”

“Y/n?” A voice echoes from behind Seojun. His mother walks up behind him, a cup in her hand. Her eyebrows are furrowed. “Did you just say you cheated on my son? Do your parents know what you did?”

“I also said he cheated, too, so,” you shrug. Her mouth drops open, her face scrunching up in anger. It looks as if she’s about to scream at you before you continue, “I’ll leave your stuff with Aecha.”

You don’t let either of them speak as you turn around and walk down the stairs and out onto the street. You pull out your phone, about to call Chan and let him know you’re on your way back when Felix’s contact name pops up on your screen. You slide to answer, placing the phone against your ear. “I know what you’re gonna say, but I just broke up with Seojun and I’m–”

“You need to get to the hospital right now, y’n,” Felix cuts you off, his voice shaking. “Chan had an accident, and he might not make it.”

Your phone falls from your hand.

________________

God’s of all origins gather around in the chambers to witness Cato’s execution. Everyone is whispering anxiously amongst one another. One deity stands silent, his arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at where Cato is chained intently. His heart is heavy, having to watch his dearest friend kill himself in the worst way possible.

“Have you spoken to him yet, Apollo?” Artemis asks as she walks up behind him. “I’m sure he would love to see you one more time.”

“What am I to even say?” Apollo asks. “Nothing I say will change his mind, you know how stubborn he is, that bastard.”

“It still must hurt,” Artemis responds. “You’ve been in love with him since the day he was created. I know it must kill you to see the torture he’s gone through.”

“There is nothing I can do about it,” Apollo shakes his head. “I love him, but it hurts more to see him be thrown back to earth again and again. It’s better this way.”

“He will live on in your heart,” his sister assures, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “But you don’t have to put yourself through the torture of seeing this.”

“After a millennia of divine punishment, Cato, god of calamity, has decided to take his life,” God’s booming voice echoes through the chamber, silencing everyone in an instant. “He will join Icarus in the deep sea below.”

Hushed whispers resound once again through the chambers, all of them having remembered watching the man’s wax wings melt from the flaming star and plummeting to his death in the never ending, and unforgiving seas.

Cato does not look up at anyone, not even to God himself. He does not speak, nor does he try to beg for forgiveness. He’s tired. He’s so tired.

God stands next to him, a hand on his shoulder as two angels unlock the shackles from his wrists and ankles. “Chan will wake up once you have hit the seas. You have my word.” Cato only nods in response.

And as he launches himself towards the sun, the burning heat of it burning at his skin and singing his feathered wings, he wails. He wails and screams, mourning his love for Eve and the time he’s spent being tortured with her almost in his grasp. Truly, he thinks death is better than being without her. The sun dries his tears, and it brings him a dark sense of comfort. And when his wings are all but ash, and he’s falling into awaiting waters, he smiles.

Apollo cries quietly as the god’s body is swallowed by the dark blue seas.

________________

Chan wakes up in a hospital room.

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the-silver-chronicles · 3 months

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WIP Wednesday and Last Line

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @g0dspeeed @nightbloodbix @cassietrn (for WIP Wednesday) and @deputyash (for last line)

Tagging @direwombat @adelaidedrubman @strangefable @strafethesesinners @carlosoliveiraa @josephslittledeputy @josephseedismyfather @chazz-anova @bitchofedensgate @trashcatsnark @minilev @onehornedbeast @voidika @afarcryfrommymain @corvosattano @derelictheretic @deputy-morgan-malone @dephellseed @skoll-sun-eater @florbelles @fourlittleseedlings @henbased @titiagls @vampireninjabunnies-blog @wrathfulrook @inafieldofdaisies @la-grosse-patate @ladyoriza @shallow-gravy @snake-in-the-garden @softtidesworld @starsandskies @thewanderer-000 and @megraen

FC5 WIPs for No Snake, Only A Boa In The Garden, a new fic Let The Skyfall (When It Crumbles) and last line for You’re Almost Like Family. Also the first official introduction for Silva's (disowned) adopted father, Paul Yellowjack!

TW: First WIP involves mentions of bullying and abuse. Second WIP involves... IDK body mutilation? Self-body multilation? Screw it, a wasp comes out of a character's hand, then it takes off its hard shells, and proceeds to enter a different character's mouth in semi-disturbing detail. Probably inaccurate anatomy on both humans and supernatural yellowjackets too. Last line involves a main character getting shot dead (not for long though) so there's that too. There! Enjoy.

Here's the moment in No Snake, Only A Boa In The Garden that the Voice realizes its Muse is in the wrong occupation and Joseph unfortunately suffers from its temper tantrum. I hope I was able to do Joseph and the Voice justice here. Snippet below:

The distrustful gazes of the deputies nearby did not go unnoticed by Joseph, their eyes held onto barely hidden wrath towards him and his brother. It felt like an additional weight of the burden he carried, even after John successfully bailed three of his formerly detained flock.

The Sheriff and his department saw him as crazy. They looked at him like a madman. Their fear of the unknown, it prevented them from seeing the signs of the Collapse.

The sins that blinded them from this truth were the same sins that the government pushed them to indulge in, indoctrinating the consumerist lifestyle upon them, turning them away from God's warm embrace.

Joseph mumbled a silent prayer, a blessing for these misguided souls, holding onto faith that his Lord will guide the deputies, the supposed protectors of the county, to his flock, where he and his siblings would guide them on the right path.

Perhaps Jacob could train them to be true protectors...

But only time will tell if the deputies would accept his truth, if the Sheriff would. For the meantime, Joseph would focus on his children, those who have accepted him as their Father.

Turning his attention back to the conversing John and Sheriff Whitehorse, he felt warmth on the back of his head, and recognized a soft humming above him.

He was more alert, closely listened as the words exchanged between John and the Sheriff became mute, the persistent hum above him canceling out the hum of the building's air conditioner. The warmth of His glow consumed the cool air, and Joseph felt expectant eyes upon him, from beyond his own perception.

The Voice. His Lord, his God. Have you a message for me, Lord?

No, the Voice spoke, its tone even and still, lacking emotion yet always familiar, always reassuring to Joseph, I have need of your eyes, Joseph. The Hell that will follow the Whitehorse is here... nearby.

Joseph's blue eye widened in shock. The pace of his beating heart quickened. The very reminder of this... figure, quickened the steady pace of his heart. This figure whom the Voice had said embodied "Hell" itself, was one that haunted him. This lost soul was one he never truly got a glimpse of in his visions, both the good and the terrifying. Always obscured by the environment, whether it be the sun that shined between him and them, in the Garden that will become their New Eden, or the shadows and flames that consumed him and the corpses of his family, their back turned to the destruction they made, the paradise he tried to preserve.

The Voice had told him that it was up to him, His prophet, to bring this Great Sinner to the correct path, for they were his family's salvation, or face the destruction they will wrought. He had asked once, at the pews of his chapel, "How will I know to help them if I don't even know who this Sinner is? What do they look like?"

The Voice hadn't answered him right away, but when it did, he was unable to stop the dreadful weight sink on his soul, "You will know on the day the locusts come for you. You will know when Hell stands in front of you in this house of Mine. You will know on the morning the First Seal breaks and the Reaping finally begins."

He wondered, briefly, if it was time. If the day of reckoning that he had been tasked with preparing for had finally come upon him, at a moment where he wasn't with the rest of his flock, and in the heart of the locusts' nest.

Though Joseph put the thought to rest with the knowledge the Voice had passed to him. The day the First Seal broke would be in the morning, on compound grounds where his Flock and Family resided, and the locusts' attitude was more that of frustration than being on the offensive.

As if sensing his confusion, Joseph heard his Lord's voice once more, Calm yourself, my child. It is not time yet. This is merely an observation. An introduction if you will. You had asked me, "Who is the Sinner whom heralds Hell?" I had not thought you ready, but now, I deem it so. You will see the shape this harbinger of destruction takes form in.

Joseph's eyes shifted from the locusts, the green deputy uniforms coiling the uneasy nausea that settles on his dread. And what form is that, Lord?

The anticipation of finally seeing the one constant figure in his visions, his flock's savior or destroyer, all depending on the choice he makes, how far he can go to reach their soul and bring them into the light.

He felt God's presence above him, a constant reassurance to the Father, waiting with him as they scoured the moving bodies for the one person that will change the fate of his family at a moments notice.

That of a deputy, my prophet, the Voice revealed, Focus your eyes down the left hall.

Joseph did as instructed, his gaze locked on the corridor, catching the sight of two large double sided doors.

Can you feel their presence yet? Overwhelming, isn't it? He chuckled as Joseph's breathe hitched at a presence he swore he could just touch with his fingertips, despite no movement from his own hand and the lack of physical presence, Not something the majority of humanity is skilled enough to do. Unless you have the privilege of being my chosen prophet, of course.

Is... is this how you touch us? How you see us? Joseph questioned, gaze locked on the doors as the presence that was not there yet continued its pace towards the doors.

The Voice only chuckled, like a parent amused by a child's question. God did not answer him, again, and Joseph realized he had already answered his own question, again. Through this new sense the Lord had blessed him with, Joseph tried to close the gap between him and the approaching presence of the deputy that will doom his garden, or be another addition to it. With just his hand at his leg, he closed his palm.

But it did not last long, and swiftly opened his hand, hissing as if he had been bitten, only silently as to not alert his younger brother nor draw attention to himself. The sense the Lord gave him ceased, and Joseph could not feel the presence that had stung him, no, burned him upon touch.

He could, however, hear the echo of bellowing laughter of his Lord, his God. It was familiar, in a way, reminding him of how Old Man Seed had once bellowed at his expense, rather than roar with wrath, once word of Joseph getting battered and beaten by a group of older teens who he had come across while walking home from school. Jacob hadn't been there at the time, forced to stay at the house to do chores for their father after another suspension.

Joseph shook his head. He would not compare God to that wretched monster of a man, over a bellow of laughter no less. He should feel honored to have heard such a rare moment of laughter from God himself.

Careful now, Joseph, the Voice silenced further thought, Touching affinity that high will damage you. Thankfully your soul knew exactly what to do.

Joseph could still feel the sting on his palm, even though he was uncertain on how exactly that happened, I don't understand...?

It's not important. Humans weren't meant to have such senses. We have more pressing matters. Keep your eyes on those doors Joseph. I want to see.

Joseph kept watch on the doors, and though he could not feel their presence like before, but he could feel the Lord's grow warmer and warmer as the moment continued on.

Finally, it was at last that he saw the handle jiggle, and the door begin to creak open.

Finally, the Voice spoke once more, the humming drowning all other noises as its warm protected Joseph from the cold embrace of the building, everything except for the corridor and the opening doors darkening as God and his prophet watched a figure emerge from the end of the hall.

She reveals herself-

The Voice didn't finish, hushing itself as Joseph stared at the woman from down the hall.

Files tucked under her arm, the woman who emerged from the doors made her down the hall, her path leading towards Joseph.

The Father remained still as he observed the approaching woman, who seemed none the wiser of Joseph's presence, nor that interested in John's debate with the Sheriff. Hair dark hair flowed smoothly behind her, not tied up, not braided, simply free. Slim, rimless blue rectangular cat eye glasses rested on her slender nose.

As her figure became more discernible the closer she came, Joseph noticed the slivers of silver running down her hair, likely dyed. He was almost shocked to see the small faded scars that littered across her face. The scarring was notably darker than that of her tawny brown skin.

Now merely a meter or two apart, almost face-to-face, he noticed more details. Thick eyebrows, high cheek bones, the indifferent frown she wore on her pouty lips, and more concerning to the Father, the dark bags under her eyes.

Her eyes.

As she crossed paths with him, Joseph caught a glimpse of her grey eyes, dull but determined, focused on some deputy or another further behind him, her attention neither on him nor his brother. They appeared to be irrelevant to her apparent mission of delivering the files.

His brows scrunched as he squinted from behind his yellow-tinted aviators, mouthing the words plastered on the file. Office of the Sheriff-Coroner?

Then his eyes widened, as he took in the clothes she wore.

Instead of the telltale green jackets and the deputy's badge, she wore a white coat over a dark blue button-up and a black turtleneck shirt, with an ID badge that he couldn't get a steady look on as it shifted and turned as she walked.

She also had dark grey jeans, black combat boots and gloves. Joseph had to wonder why so much of her skin was covered, aside from her face. What was she hiding from everyone else?

She passed him, no indication nor acknowledgement of his presence. He watched her move from desk to desk until she found the right deputies, Hudson and Pratt he recalled, catching their full attention as she spoke, for what he could only assume was about the contents in the files.

He observed in silence, the humming above him growing louder, the Lord's presence no longer warm and welcoming as it always has been, but uncomfortably hot and erratic.

Lord?

This... this can't be right- No, it's impossible! She can't have- Why? How?!

Joseph froze, confused and lost on the tone of the Voice. He'd never heard such strength of emotion from Him. When God chose to speak with him, it was with a monotone neutrality, well-spoken and well-versed with an air of seriousness. Rarely He showed amusement. Even rarer to show disappointment.

But he'd never heard God's voice hold frustration before. It even bordered on rage.

He felt a sharp pain pound in his head, the heat becoming unbearable, his shirt itching against his skin.

Lord, I don't understand... is this not part of your Plan?

He looked to the woman who was supposed to represent Hell, the woman who conversed with the two deputies out of ear-shot. The Voice spoke once more, almost hissing, Does she look like a deputy, Joseph?

Joseph swallowed emptily, swiping at his damp forehead, the heat almost unbearable. He took another glance at her once more, the woman unaware of what she had done, however baffling it is for Joseph to believe that this supposed Sinner had managed to spit in God's plan.

Joseph tensed when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he swiftly turn to face John.

"We're all done here brother. No trouble will be coming from the Sheriff's Department for a while," John informed him, grin wide as he looked into Joseph's eyes, searching for any pride.

Joseph could only nod, the heat dying down as the sensation of the cold air rested against his skin once more, the aches pounding in his head still present though.

John furrowed his brow in worry, his concern overpowering his need for his older brother's approval, "Joseph, are you alright?"

Reconvene your heralds back at the Compound, Joseph, the Voice spoke, His warmth and light retracting away from Joseph's head, There is much to discuss about this new course of events.

As you wish, Lord, Joseph almost mumbled, but the light and warmth God shined on him left, already knowing Joseph's answer.

Turning to John, he was weary of the audience around them, though giving one last glance to Hell's enigmatic vessel, he saw her eyes were not amongst the deputies and Sheriff who watched their every move.

Gesturing to the door where their released flock members were waiting outside, John understood immediately and walked alongside Joseph towards the department's entrance.

"We must gather brother and sister," Joseph whispered to his faithful brother, "The Voice has spoken once more. New developments have occurred. Some I fear have threatened all that we have worked for."

He had faith in the Lord's ability, but the shock that even the Voice could not have predicted the Great Sinner's change in occupation had deeply shook him, making him ponder what else this sinner was capable of.

"What do you mean brother?" John asked, his confusion evident. Once out of the building, Joseph decided that he will not answer his younger brother just yet. Better to have the whole family together.

"I will explain when we gather Jacob and Faith at the Compound, but for now, we should return our missing flock back to the rest of the family," Joseph gestured to the three men who piqued up at the sight of both the Father and the Baptist, in awe of the brothers as they were lead into the car.

Here's a WIP for a new FC5 fic, Let The Skyfall (When It Crumbles), a scenario where I pondered the question of what would have happened if Paul Yellowjack, in all his wasp-y glory, had been at the events of the Reaping (or FC5 in general) where Silva was busting her ass to fight the Seeds... the answer? He would win. He... would have won. I mean... there's really not much you can do with someone who, in their current supernatural incarnation, can pull off a Kenjaku move (Jujutsu Kaisen reference... and spoilers for the manga and season 2) amongst other things and is an experienced, cunning strategist to boot. Case-in-point... Paul's first victim; the Father himself, Joseph Seed. The post giving a summary of this scenario idea + a summary of who Paul is and his relationship with Silva can be found here and the WIP snippet I have is below:

When lamplight disappeared from the window, Paul rasped a whisper to himself, "Go time."

He looked down to his glove-less hand, opening his palm far and wide. The vespe that watched from his shoulders flapped their wings, snapping at the air, chattering encouragement as the runt of the alveare crawled its way into the body's right palm.

Paul could only describe the sensation of a vespa maneuvering under the skin, especially in a fresh body, as a numb tickle at best and the numbed pain of popping a pimple at worst. The bump the runt made under his skin finally made it to the palm, and without further instruction, broke through the flesh.

The runt, unlike its kin that were irregularly bigger for the kind of wasp they were, was as small as the average vespa should be, and perfect for the task he needed it for.

It used its forelegs to clean itself off, while devouring as much of the nutritious meat and blood as it could before it begun its journey to the cabin. Two of its bigger kin flew down to the gaping hole in the hand, mandibles snapping before widening, a yellowish pale substance slowly spewing out, their forelegs pulling a stream of it out, and then working together to cover the breach in the sticky spew, swiftly hardening as they worked.

He brought the hand up to his clean-shaven face, the runt looking back up at him with beady red eyes. It knew what it needed to do. He knew what he needed to do. So without further prompting, the runt flapped its wings and made its way towards the sleeping cabin, the lights at the Profeta's compound glowing brightly in the distance.

Though if things went to plan, Paul smiled to himself as he hummed out an old tune he heard, walking back towards the cover of the trees, They won't be much of an eye sore for much longer.

Though he rarely allowed his hive to separate, he was confident that the runt would ensure that Profeta's body was under his thumb. Seeing through its vision now, he was already impressed how far it made it without being eaten by a bat.

The runt flew towards the small wooden cabin, landing at the window sill. Looking inside, the darkness held no disadvantage over his vision, and he could see clearly that the Profeta was laying down on his bed, sleep having finally caught up to him.

The runt clamped its mandibles together, its body convulsing and buzzing erratically. He had quite enjoyed keeping the Profeta awake over the course of the month.

Crawling through the cracked and broken glass he made during a another nighttime visit, the runt had successfully entered the cabin.

It looked to its target, growling out softly at the sight of the shirtless man.

The Profeta was a man in his early forties, reaching his mid, facial hair grown into a small beard, the hair on his head usually tied in a bun, but locks left to flow naturally as he laid asleep on his back.

The man was shirtless, a proof of arrogance and ignorance towards the vulnerability that can be exploited. Not to mention his doors and windows were all unlocked as Paul had discovered.

The visible tattoos that strewn across the younger man's chest held little meaning to the runt nor Paul, though the self-inflicted scars littered across, some with the labels of the seven deadly sins, did gain attention. How mocking it was to Paul, seeing the Profeta display such scars in public, when he had done nothing to earn them.

They weren't reminders of what he survived. They weren't lessons that shaped his core being, nor were they stories that told a tale of hurt and despair, of someone in pain, and yet through persistence alone, they continue on, to breathe, to live. No, the scars of this profeta held no merit, no truth, no reason to exist beyond glamorization.

A point of glorification to impress the gullible sheep he had entrapped with his charm, to show that suffering is a choice, giving them no chance to naturally experience what it means to fight and crawl and survive. Telling a lie to keep them subservient, slaves who never question the question of what is right and what is wrong, only what the Profeta wants. Individuality and potential talent squandered and crushed over trusting the wrong words.

The truth, the universal truth Paul knew, was that suffering was apart of life. Pain is unavoidable, and the only choice one can have in it is either enduring it or die trying.

To endure pain is to prove you're alive. To endure suffering is to prove your strength. To endure and overcome both, though, is to show your worthiness as a survivor.

The Profeta has only proven how low he will bend to the whims of his cruel master. While Paul's own existence was less than satisfactory, yet he at least had enough freedom to choose how to serve his own Master.

The runt looked to the black pants the man wore, a potential landing spot. But Paul opted against the idea, directing its gaze to the Profeta's jugular. The runt's faint red eyes locked on to its target, wings spread out for flight.

This chance was now or never. There wouldn't be another opportunity, not with the sceriffo's department so restless. The fate of Paul's precious Boa hanged in the balance.

Without further hesitation, the runt leaped in the air, its wings propelling it faster as it brought out its stinger. In mere seconds, the stinger stabbed through the neck, injecting the venom into his bloodstream.

The runt swiftly dropped off his neck, avoiding hand that slapped against the stung area on instinct, the pain rousing the Profeta from his slumber.

The runt's wings saved it from hitting the floor, allowing it to hover up to see the Profeta try to lift himself up, the drowsiness of interrupted sleep becoming heavier than usual.

His hand rubbed his neck, sucking a breath in at the sting, though his arm numbly slouched over the bed. He attempted to lift it, only to find he couldn't. The Profeta tried to sit up, but found himself barely being able to lift his head.

The runt watched the Profeta's face twitch, then it listened as he groaned, moaned and grunted nonsensically, no words forming. His voice failing him.

Through the runt's eyes, Paul couldn't help but smile at the sight of the broken down instrument of a God. One of many tools used to keep the cogs of the wheel going.

Paul urged the runt to go for a closer look.

The runt complied, buzzing and chattering excitedly as it landed on the man's nose, right in his view.

It stared into the Profeta's blue eyes, allowing Paul to see the still gaze of a man helpless and trapped, but more deserving of it.

Paul wondered what this man saw when he slept. What he hears?

The laughter of those long gong, whom he'll never see again except in the depths of buried memories, to bring himself a moment of joy to the grim purpose he existed for now? Did he fantasize of a life he'll never get, one where everything went right?

The runt turned to glance at the arm that had the woman's face etched on his skin.

Does he wish as I do? That he could have made a different choice than the one he did?

The runt faced the Profeta's gaze once more, taking notice of the tears that matched his watery eyes, the body reflexively trying to wet the dry eyes, the venom keeping him from doing something as simple as blink.

Or does he believe he has done no wrong?

The runt turned its back to the Profeta's frozen eyes, looking over the tip of his nose to the half-open entrance that awaited it.

Has the lies he's been told and never doubted become truth, despite how ludicrous they are?

The runt gently hopped down to the man's upper lip, gentleness no longer a necessity as the vespa's legs dug into the soft flesh.

Does he sleep soundlessly despite the terror he's wrought? The lives he's ruined?

The runt's middle legs steadied on the man's upper teeth, its hind legs pushing the upper lip back, while its forelegs pushed the forward the Profeta's bottom teeth, the venom's sluggish effects combined with the vespa's unnatural strength widening his mouth open. With the entrance now large enough to fit it inside, the runt flew over to the chin, its head looking down the interior of the mouth.

Does he hear their damning screams?

Slowly, the runt turned its middle legs to latch onto the slim outline of the shell Paul had attached to it, hooking underneath casing before loosening the thorax and abdomen shells, letting both fall to the sides.

The writhing small tendrils pulsed out, dripping small yellow-ish pale spew, like what most of the alveare produced. The liquid substance hardened as it dripped further down. The Profeta's breath quickened, panicked and confused, unaware of the plans Paul had in store for him. The runt shuddered as the heated air washed over it, before beginning its descent.

Though I'm not overly upset of never knowing the answer.

The runt crawled through the heated wetness of the Profeta's mouth, passing the tongue until it reached his throat. Beady red eyes looked down the path that descended into the esophagus. Unless it wanted to trigger the Profeta's gag reflex, it would avoid the path. Growling, it looked up, and found the breach point.

Crawling to the roof of the mouth, it ascended upwards, the writhing tendrils on its back lubricating in preparation, as its mandible jaws opened wide for the breach.

And last line paragraph(s) for You're Almost Like Family, the time loop fic where the Seeds realize just how easy it is for Silva to just wound up dead, and much they miss the luck she had in the first three months she fought against them. Anyway, paragraphs below:

A shift in movement from one of the Chosen stepping out of his peripheral momentarily caught John's attention, and he almost glanced to see where the Chosen was moving to, but noticed that Alexander raised a brow at the movement from the other end of the circle they surrounded the Deputy in, giving Jacob a signal with his head.

John heard his big brother huff out an annoyed sigh, glancing a quick glare over to the Chosen's new spot. Seeing nothing to worry about, John returned his attention to Joseph's pleas to the wayward sinner who had caused everyone trouble.

"Child, this wrath... this violence that you have escalated for the sinners who only use you as a weapon is no longer necessary," Joseph spoke with a soft, even voice filled with paternal gentleness, "This unnecessary rebellion needs to end. The Collapse closes in on us ever closer, just as I showed you in the Henbane, and the only salvation... are the Gates my family has prepared for. I see you, the person you are. And that is not as the tool of destruction your so called friends view you as. We see your compassion. Your bravery. The virtues you only think you don't have. And we welcome it, in our Garden. You seek someplace to belong... God has shown me you belong with us."

John watched as Joseph outstretched his hand to the Deputy, the Baptist sucking in a breath as she, of all people, eyed it, even as Joseph continued, "Please, child. Put aside the wrath. Put to peace the suffering. This doesn't have to end in blood. We can help each other. With your help, we can save more souls, more lives... and together we can bask in the new world God promised us."

John watched in bated breath as the Deputy glanced down, putting together her options.

When the Deputy finally found an answer, John saw Alexander's eyes widen at something ahead of him, and was shocked to see the Chosen Leader reach for his sidearm.

"Tch, you li-"

A loud crack shot through the air as it did the Deputy, her lips glistened with blood instead of the rest of her words. John watched, frozen on the spot, as the Deputy's body slowly fell back, following after the cartilage and blood that the bullet blast clean through. The bullet of which glinted at his eyes.

And the bullet continued to glint at him, just as the Deputy's corpse stopped in its descent, not even touching the ground. From what John could see, Joseph midway from stepping back, and hadn't planted his foot down, just as Alexander hadn't even been able to fully aim his sidearm at the culprit.

He tried to glance to Jacob and Faith, but found his eyes refused, locked on Joseph and the fresh corpse of his family's most determined rebel, who defied gravity just as she defied them.

What is going on?! Though he couldn't move, John was relieved he could still think to himself.

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maythearo · 1 year

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" Welcome back to Night Raven College's "Ghostly Gossip"! The school's unofficial main online source for the latest news, articles and trending topics circulating around campus! "

" now introducing our second student entry for the blog... 'some guy I found on my grandma's attic'-- huh..? Wait, who wrote that down?? "

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R. Rosehearts - T. Clover - C. Diamond - A. Trappola - D. Spade - L. Kingscholar - R. Bucchi - J. Howl - A. Ashengrotto - J. Leech - F. Leech - K. Al Asim - J. Viper - V. Schoenheit - R. Hunt - E. Felmier - I. Shroud - O. Shroud - M. Draconia - L. Vanrouge - S. Zigvolt - Silver

Messy (but progressively getting better) design notes:

Epel was one of those designs that just clicked instantly with me, I had a vision of the basics I wanted all sorted in my head even before I gathered most reference pics. I don't expect this to happen again to a majority of the remaining cast though 😫

Watching those doll restoration/repainting videos while drawing helped me set the general mood I wanted for him, even though the final result doesn't show much of this inspiration, at least in my opinion... I love the makeup and face painting details these artists put on the dolls, but I was afraid too much of that would make his design too heavy-looking combined with the rest of the outfit. If I ever decide to design alternative outfits for this series, I'll try to show off more of this lost aspect there

For the character in itself now, I imagine him in this AU to be more free to do and act however he wants compared to his og universe counterpart. Still being supervised by Vil, but not in the same level as before. Probably the reason why he got all those scratches and cracks on his body, I like to think he's having a little more fun with being a gremlin and running around all he wants lol. And due to that, his skin care routine baisically consists in Elmer's glue, to stick any broken porcelain shards together. Vil is not exactly content about that, but he lets most of it slide at this point 👍

Epel's totally the type of kid who goes around the gardens to casually collect bugs like he's in animal crossing. Like this video I found on reels, which I don't reccomend watching if you have a phobia of spiders/insects/bugs/snakes/frogs/etc cause, you know. But anyway I think MH Epel holds this exact energy and it's- kinda terrifying! In a good way though. come on let this kid be a kid for once. I also think this more playful part of him fits well with the fact that he's a little doll. OH and the fact that og Epel grew up around the elderly back in his hometown kinda makes sense in this universe too, like, he's the type of doll some grandparents would keep in their old house as a family relic or something. Could very much be the beggining of a horror story.

#twst #my art #twisted wonderland #twst fanart #.the ghostly gossip #epel felmier #monster high #twst au #pomefiore

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neoplatinum · 15 days

Text

in sickness and in health - the finale | minatozaki sana

summary: it's time to face the two demons that lurk in the shadows

pairing: heiress!sana x reader

themes: blood, murder, gore, knives, kidnapping, assassins, katanas, arranged marriage au, fluff, angst, tension, lots of elitism, conglomerate power-hungry side characters, implied sex, misamo!

wc: 7.2k

(series masterlist)

index finger tracing along the scarred name, you stare into the open garden. the sound of a bamboo fountain trickling water, light sounds of wind passing by, hitting the wind chimes in the distance.

the warm air making your forehead sweat, there’s an unsettling feeling in your chest. a feeling you haven’t been able to put at ease for months. waking up from dreams of the abe brother’s killing your family.

after the abe ball, you took it upon yourself to do intensive research on their family clan. the history and intertwining of the two families like twin snakes. every generation there’s been an increasing tension between the minatozakis and the abes.

sana’s mother was married into the minatozaki family, much like you. a woman with a strong vision for the family, taking the power in stride. increasing the stretch of the power across industries, a move in which made the abes unhappy. there’s always been territory boundaries, unmoving and untouched for decades, no one crosses it.

sana’s mother crossed it.

taking over minor territories of the abe clan in japan: a means of expansion. one that the abe’s didn’t take lightly too. the abes took it upon themselves to kill momo and mina’s father.

a clear sign of distaste for the minatozakis, nearly sparking war between the two conglomerate powers.

which was why sana was set to marry kaito abe. a negotiation of peace and a possible united front against the smaller clans who were itching to take over whichever was killed off.

sometimes you stare at her, eyes just capturing her, wondering about the woman that you now devoted your every breath to.

there’s a shift, ever since the ball, she’s gone out less. more need to be around haruto and hanako. even spending days with you in office. she delivered an armchair into your office, to be placed near you while you work.

“it’s getting windy, let’s head back inside.” sana taps you, you take one final look over the garden before picking up a giggling hanako. grabbing at your ears and pulling at it.

haruto runs ahead, feet taking off ever since he found his own speed. running down bridges of the minatozaki estate.

his little feet lead him in front of sana’s mother. her eyes warm and inviting as she crouches down to pick him up. his grabby hands picking at the flower tucked in her breast pocket.

she looks so different like this. a woman who can kill as easily as she breathes.

but she’s so gentle with haruto and hanako, a real grandmother at times. the way she often visits, dropping everything to babysit them.

but she also comes to talk to you. sometimes you feel like she’s been watching you, the way you now try to take in her footsteps. to take over the family name, one that you didn’t want to bear in the first place.

that’s all this was supposed to be, a convenient enough marriage that was backed by the minatozaki power. you get to expand your business and lead your father’s, but now you stand, as a pawn.

likely the next leader of the clan.

hushed conversations in your office, her plans for the clan, molding you into another her. a vision she has long wanted, one that she didn’t want to force upon sana. but seeing your ambitious streak with your business, she knows you have the strength.

you just wonder if you can live up to the expectations.

“what do you make of the abe clan?”

“kaito and kenji. vicious, brutal, psychotic, narcissistic.” “right, what else?” she continues to take light sips of her sencha. you bought her favorite kind.

“birds, sana told me about killer birds.” and she nods. the abe’s are like crows, hiding amongst the shadows, swarming together for the kill. it’s so obvious why they chose killer crows.

those glossy beady black eyes, always monitoring.

like a 24/7 surveillance system.

“what about their vulnerabilities?”

you sit and think about the brothers, both so obsessed with murder and blood. hands probably holding the blood of ten of thousands of cronies.

you learnt of the aftermath of the watanabe, being dissolved like they never existed. their territories and power being absorbed by smaller groups clans. the whole family house being burnt to the ground.

it was a horrifying sight on the news, covered up under the guise of an electrical fire.

“i’m not sure.” sana’s mother stares at you, an eyebrow raised.

“who’s at the top?” she asks. setting down the cup of tea.

there’s no one at the top, that seat has been vacant for years. following the sudden death of their father, both brothers have been leading the clan.

some underground bosses have speculated that the brothers killed their own father. sent him to early retirement for the top seat.

you can’t tell if it’s true, or worse, who did it.

“it’s just the two brothers.” you comment.

“two leaders, as brothers. a clan of that size and prestige is unheard of, i think they’ll kill each other before this year ends.” she sits backwards, leaning against the cushion.

“likely, they’re both too greedy.” you also sit back, thinking about the two brothers. the horrors that happened that night, their eyes filled with pleasure at the killings.

delight flowing through them at the attention.

that night you returned from the abe ball, you had to hold sana, her just sobbing into your chest. making you bring haruto and hanako into the bedroom.

her hands shaking as she held haruto and hanako. giving them little kisses as she hugged them close.

you hope to never see her so distraught again.

“do you know why you were chosen, to marry sana?” sana’s mother stands up, grabbing a folder from her drawing. unraveling the string, and taking out the contents.

“no, i don't.”

“you and sana grew up around each other. i had always known your father, he used to be an associate of the minatozakis. he was too greedy and unstable, and i always assumed that he would never amount to much. but you, you were different.”

she starts showing you photos of you by your father’s side. small and young, without a clue in the world, just anger.

anger for something that was truly yours, one that wasn’t from your father.

“attended the same law school as sana, but you took your work seriously. devoting years to your business, i always kept tabs on you.”

she says, showing pictures of you during law school, in the background of sana’s photos. always there in the frame, just barely noticeable.

“all the heirs were power hungry, but they didn’t have a driving force. nothing to prove, all handed luxuries on a golden spoon.”

“you worked for your place in the world, and that i can admire. you remind me of my young self. when i married sana’s father, i acted much like you did. dismissive towards the minatozakis, until i had sana. she was the most precious thing to me, someone i had to protect.”

she says, handing you photos of a young sana, in her pretty dress and fake tiara. you smile at the sight, you remember often seeing her dressed up as a princess.

“i knew when i chose you, that you’d be loyal to sana, you have honor and duty in you, you can’t learn that. but this family and the clan, all of that you can learn.”

she says pointing around the room, and you think of how much you’ve changed. taking the leading stance on propelling the power of the clan.

“i understand.” you say, taking a look at all the photos laid out, you at different points of your life. a whole different you that wanted nothing to do with the minatozakis or any clan for the matter.

“when kazuki abe murdered mamoru, we assumed that they were going to kill off the rest of the minatozakis. but then we negotiated that sana would marry kaito.” she says pointing to a marriage contract. you stare at it, the wild lines of kaito’s signature.

“but then kazuki died suddenly, of a heart attack, they said. kaito was scrambling for the marriage. wanted to marry sana immediately, move up the marriage.”

“i told them that sana was set to marry someone else, this was a chance to change her fate.” she says, thinking back to when you were delivered a marriage contract.

“they lost their minds, swearing up and down that they were going to kill us for breaking the negotiations. but they had no leader, their father was dead, and they didn’t know how to wield the abe power. foolish little boys in dressed up suits.”

you nod.

“but now, i see kazuki in them both, ruthless and killer minded. that’s all they care about, killing those that stand in their way. i don’t even think kaito cared about marrying sana, was more concerned that she defied the negotiation.”

of course that’s where their priorities lied.

“do you understand now?”

“yes, mrs. minatozaki.”

“none of that, call me mom, you’re as much of my child as sana is.” she says, standing up, grabbing her cup of tea with her. you stand up as well.

“oh also, sana chose you because she thought you were captivating. her words, not mine.” and then she leaves with a grin.

“go go go!” little haruto points at the kite in your hand, the wind blowing your hair back. he jumps and claps as you run around the field, letting the koinobori kite fly into the sky.

the orange and red fish flying in the sky.

his laughs filling the air as the fish continues to weave through the sky. moving across the field as more string unravels from your kite.

“you having fun?” sana shouts as she walks up to you, hanako in her arms as she reaches out towards you. pulling your daughter into your arms.

“mhm, haruto is really happy.” he continues to run across the field, chasing the kite closely.

“she’s getting bigger.” you comment, bouncing hanako on your hip. handing the kite to sana. the fish flying up high. she stares at the fish in amazement, whining to reach out for it, trying to get out of your arms.

“isn't she? she might have my eyes.” sana comments, moving the kite to the other side, haruto cheering as he runs towards the other end of the field. you think they look like sana's too. ones that you used to look at as kids.

“what did you and my mom talk about.”

“talking about the abes. i learned why she chose me to marry you.” you say, trying your best to keep hanako in your arms. “didn’t know you had the hots for me even then.” you smirk.

“oh you wish!” she says, a light pink dusting on her cheeks.

“i think you said i was ‘captivating’ or am i wrong?” you laugh as sana refuses to look at you. too busy trying to wipe the smile off her face.

“you’ve gotten so cheeky lately.” you just smile at her, giving her a kiss. and you’re back to watching haruto running across the field.

you continue to sink into the water, letting the water move you around a bit. taking deep breaths as you dump more water across your arms. the large stones forming a barrier from the outside. lately you’ve been finding yourself more lost in your thoughts, thinking about how to best move forward.

what is your purpose now as a minatozaki?

without a doubt, you want to raise haruto and hanako properly, not letting them see the dark side of this family. they deserved a healthy childhood, one in which you and sana will foster their future. no matter what they decide.

but what about the other threats, smaller clans all itching to get a piece of the empire. you think about sana’s mother, how strong willed that woman is. wielding the entire empire in her hands, and expanding it to what it is now.

“what are you thinking about?” sana walks across the wooden boards, just to the edge of the spring. holding out her hand, you hold yours up as she takes a dip, her feet hitting the water and sitting next to you. you give her hand a kiss, before sitting closer to her.

“how lucky i am to marry you.” you say earnestly. days of the past before sana were filled with work and sleep. you rarely enjoyed yourself then. head down in paperwork after paperwork. now you get to experience life with the most beautiful woman in your life, along with two lovely kids.

“i feel the same.” she says, grabbing your hand again, tracing along the knuckles. she stills for a second before continuing, “you know how i was supposed to marry kaito?”

you nod, feeling a sharp distaste just at the name.

“i never loved him, and i knew i couldn’t be his wife. he would have killed me at some point, i think after mother dies.” his willingness to usurp the minatozakis is obvious, he would’ve killed the entire family if it meant being able to absorb the power that the minatozakis had.

“so i’m glad that you agreed to marry me.” she says, leaving feather-light touches across your palm. you kiss her forehead. letting her lean across your shoulder.

“me too darling.”

she gets up, pulling her hair off to the side. exposing her back. a long winding gorgeous blue and gold dragon across it. the tail winding down her spine and the tail ending near her tailbone. a full back piece, coloring her back in vibrancy. red clouds surrounding the dragon, wrapping in the curve of her back.

you trail your finger down the body of the dragon, feeling her shudder at the sensation. it’s a beautiful piece, adorning her back. with her gorgeous figure, you can’t help but admire her. everything that sana is and will be, you love every aspect.

“you’ve always liked this piece so much.” she comments, as you lift your finger. she turns around, pulling herself onto your lap. legs laid against yours.

“because you are gorgeous sana.” grabbing her lightly by the neck and pulling her in for a kiss. naturally, she lays her arms on your shoulder. “my gorgeous gorgeous girl.”

“yours.”

- -

“repeat that for me.” you stand up, watching sana’s mother continue to sit at her desk. pacing a bit as she continues to read down from the reports.

“the abe’s are trying to stage a coup.” she comments, reading the written report. “sent assassins to kill momo and mina, ‘finishing what they started’ they said.” you begin to bite your nail, they’re making moves now. “sent over a hundred of their foot soldiers to their sleeping quarters. momo and mina tore them all apart, but they’re recovering now, heavy injuries.”

you look at the pictures, bruised ribs, cuts along their arms and torsos. momo looks more bandaged from the sight of the photos. both of them sleeping in the minatozaki private hospital.

“you think they’ll come for us next?” you take a step away from the desk, thinking about sana. this is the last thing she needs, bad dreams of the abe brothers plaguing both your minds. now this threat is far more present, they intend to finish off killing off momo and mina, after the abe’s killed their father: mamoru minatozaki.

“yes.” she says, continuing to examine the report, reading down the lines. attacks made dead in the night, but momo and mina’s alert senses pulled them out of their sleep early enough for them to grab weapons to defend themselves. “likely soon.”

you let out a sigh, it seems the darkness is looming closer. some days when you’re outside you spot crows along tree branches, those same beady eyes from the abe manor. all ready to dive and kill at a moments notice. perhaps the abe’s have been monitoring your behavior as well.

“be prepared, the next line of minatozakis all depends on you.” sana’s mother stands up, eyes a little harder than usual as she exits her office. you look back at the photos of momo’s injuries. the bruises, the black eye, the gash along her forehead. mina got off a little easier, she’s more evasive than momo, but she looks pretty beat up too, leg in a cast.

“you look like shit momo.” you stare at her body, the bruising has faded a bit, leaving a yellow-ish green color along her ribs. the low sound of the machines running in the background. mina gave you a weak wave as she continues to read her book.

“i still look better than you, dipshit.” you grin, momo having enough energy to still insult you means she’s still herself. and for that you are grateful. you place the fruit basket onto her bedside table.

“you still doing the exercises i taught you?” she says, pushing herself up with some difficulty. you pull the pillow up to support her back as she leans against the wall.

you nod, that’s all you’ve been doing lately. training for hours, that you completely lose track of time. sometimes sana scolds you for not picking up her calls, walking into the weight room herself to take off your headphones. training for what, you aren’t even sure. maybe the looming threat of the abe’s has made you paranoid.

“momo, i came to ask you about the abe’s.” mina puts her book down gently, tabbing it before closing it. and momo crosses her arms. both of them staring at you.

“what do you want to know?”

“what happened that night? i want to know from the source.” you explain.

momo lets out a sigh while mina stares outside the window.

“they sent assassins, it was an open-contract just for that night, whoever takes blood gets the pool of money. meaning any assassin could take on the job, they wanted us both dead. didn’t matter how. so roughly 100 assassins or so, all swarming our house, they all came.” she explains.

“many of these assassin we both know personally, i think the abe’s weren’t serious about wanting us dead. i think this was just a warning to sana’s mother. that they’re coming for her.” momo says, and mina nods lightly.

“the abe’s are killers, they would never send assassins as proxies if they actually wanted us dead.” mina explains. the abe brothers are known for keeping a public record of every person they have killed, a competition to see which brother has a higher kill count.

“doesn’t mean that this was any easier though.” momo says as she tries to rotate her shoulders. you nod, the abe’s are psychotic killers and calculating while at it.

“the abe’s only kill with their knives, it’s like an extension for their bodies. it’s how they were trained, one blade for the rest of their lives. all the abe’s have to use that same knife to take their own life, or else their death is considered shameful. they won’t get an abe burial if they let anything else kill them.” mina says with finality.

sana has been pacing like crazy the past few days, her uneasiness continuing to spread through to you. she’s been so anxious since momo and mina nearly got killed.

some days she’ll stay in the nursery for hours, just spending time with haruto and hanako. or if they’re asleep, she’ll visit momo and mina in the private hospital. you can see how she’s losing sleep over this, eyes wide as she explains how scared she is that everyone will die in front of her eyes. much like what happened to the watanabes.

you don’t even know how to console her at times, just letting her tears continue to stain your clothes as she cries. often coming back from the hospital with hollow eyes.

you’ve stepped up security, placing more security measures around the manor, cameras, guards, even sensors. anything that’ll give you the upperhand against these vicious brothers.

but there’s been radio-silence, nothing to report.

and that makes you antsy, you feel like they’re plotting their next attack against your family but like a lost detective, there’s no conclusive evidence. forced to feel like this threat is a phantom, that it doesn’t actually exist at all.

sana’s mother has taken it upon herself to visit often for her grandkids, a second set of eyes that’ll be ready to jump at the scene. there’s still this trained calmness in her, one that won’t act rashly when provoked. she’s been through hell and back for this clan, and she won’t let these brothers provoke her.

“so they stopped sending you sunflowers?” sana asks as you stare at yesterday’s flowers. it’s a bit strange, for the past month, the flowers always arrive exactly at noon, no earlier, and no later.

it’s also a strange flower to gift.

“yeah, just today.” there’s never a post card or anything, but with how work has been booming you’re sure it’s just a pleased shareholder expressing their happiness. sana continues to examine the flowers, eyeing them closely, checking the vase for anything special.

“do you even like sunflowers?” she asks.

“no, not really, which is why i’m confused.” you explain, also examining the flower. the yellow petals bloomed around the disk florets. you’ve been asking shoko to figure out who the sender is, but the flower delivery is always anonymous.

sana nods, as she sits down near you, pulling out a magazine. you continue to thumb through the financial report you’ve been sent. great projections for the third quarter.

then shoko runs into the room.

“emi just called, they took haruto and hanako.” shoko shoves the phone forward, you take it out of your hand, putting it against your ear.

“emi, emi, can you hear me?” you shout into the phone, your blood pressure rising.

“they took them!” emi’s anxious voice squeaks through the speakers, her frantic voice as you hear footsteps all in the back. sana’s by your side, staring at the phone as her eyes go dark.

“who’s they?” you ask, grabbing your stuff, as shoko keeps the door open. you and sana take off, running down the hallway towards the elevator. background noise continuing to playthrough the speakerphone. you and sana keep sharing looks of panic, you can feel her shaking.

“the abe’s, the abe’s took them. both the brothers are here.” emi continues to speak, her voice getting quieter and quieter. you grab sana’s hand as you both race down the stairwell. rushing into the parking lot, handing sana the phone as you both take off.

“emi, do you know where they took them?” sana’s voice is on the verge of sobbing, tears flowing down her face. she continues to shake in the passenger seat, you offer your hand, as you speed out of the garage, and take the shortest road towards the manor.

“i-i don’t know miss sana.” emi’s voice cuts off and then you hear a scream, nearly stopping the car. your ears listening to the scream of emi, and then it goes silent. sana’s gripping on your hand the tightest she ever has.

then there’s a crackle before a voice comes through.

“hello darling, missed me?” the voice of kaito abe, directly reverberating around the car. sana squeezes your hand. you focus on driving as fast as you can, weaving through cars and traffic, all aimed at reaching towards your kids.

“kaito, you took my kids!” she shouts into the phone.

“oh don’t be like that darling, you know i would never actually kill them. such precious little things.” his laughter ringing out, him placing the phone directly at your kids’ mouths. their wails and cries coming through the phone.

“now, let’s get to the fun part!” his laughter coming back, you’re nearing the house. “come to us! we’ll be waiting.”

sana’s crying, her tears rolling off the phone screen, and you stop hearing anything, the ringing sound in your ears. your blood running through you like a waterfall. the thumping of your chest clambering out of your body, a desperate need to calm down.

the adrenaline that rushes through you, you press the gas pedal harder, the thought of losing your kids killing any other thought that dares to sprout within your mind.

“before i forget! i left little gifts for you! sunflowers, very fitting, since hanako means flower child and haruto means sun. i thought you would figure it out!” his voice comes back, the ringing continuing to play with his voice.

that fucker is getting what’s coming to him.

then the line hangs up.

you speed into the manor. outside in the lawns are lifeless bodies, all their blood staining the grass red. a massacre of minatozaki mercenaries taken out by the hands of the abes. tire marks against the ground.

you hastily put the car in park, throwing the door open as you race to the door, it’s all ransacked. the house, nearly flipped over. deep gashes on the family portrait hung on the wall. both your and sana’s face cut from the painting. sana chases after you, her body still shaking as she examines the room around her. running straight for the nursery.

you stop when you get inside, it’s not flipped over like the rest of the house, but both children are missing. where haruto usually sits to draw, his chair is flipped over. and hanako who likes to stand in her crib is nowhere to be seen. sana hasn’t noticed, but emi’s been murdered. her blood staining the carpet. you cover her eyes, as you lead her outside.

the absolute anger and venom coursing through your body, you reach the door.

you get a ring from your phone.

his voice through your ears, “if you’d like your kids back, come to the abe house alone, let’s talk.” it’s oddly normal, not his usual humored voice. almost like a friend calling. you shudder at how quick he can change himself.

“deal.”

you speed away from the manor.

you roll your car into the abe mansion, seeing the same red walls and dark red crest across the main entrance. a sigh leaving your lips. you weren’t really thinking when he called, and now you’re here, at the doorsteps of the abes. they could kill you right here and that would be it for you.

but your conviction to save your kids is stronger, the need to kill kaito and kenji for messing with your kids.

parking your car in the garage, there’s no guards around. it’s too quiet, almost like something’s wrong here. you can even hear the garden running in the background.

you step into the same tunnel where you once walked through with sana. there’s no line of birds up top, also strange. like a chill up your spine, and soon you arrive inside the main hall. the same hall that was the death place of the watanabes. it’s completely empty, the decorations are still around. but without the guests, it’s just a giant room filled with war artifacts/

you keep walking through the hallways, until you reach a smaller room, much smaller. with it’s door open. and inside you can hear some light music playing. the sight of kaito and kenji abe sitting in two chairs, no guards around either.

just them two and behind them your kids. little haruto and hanako hugging each other in the corner. haruto’s fearful eyes as he sees you, running towards you with tears in his eyes.

you rush to pick him up, while the two brothers eye you. unmoving as you grab hanako as well. placing them behind you. staring at them two. their hands spinning their twin tantos in their hands. you don’t say anything, rubbing hanako’s hair lightly as you set her down behind you.

“take a seat.” you sit down across from the brothers. both of them adorning their family crest, kaito’s lips are curled into a smile, while kenji has a bored look on his face.

“why did you take my kids?” you ask, continuing to keep hanako in your arms. rocking her slightly, while haruto peers from behind the chair. still scared out of his mind.

“just for fun!” kaito says as he offers a lollipop to hanako, you push it away. watching the way he laughs out in amusement.

“you minatozakis are always so stuck up.” he says, placing the lollipop down on his desk. kenji continues to flip the tanto in his hand. you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. it’s still too quiet, where is everyone.

“i wanted to meet my replacement in person.” kaito explains. “needed to see sana’s plaything in person.”

kenji rolls his eyes. you continue to let your eyes drift to and from the two brothers, attune to each subtle movement. “well i’m here now, what do you want from me?”

“i want you to beg, beg for your life.” he says, knife pointed at your head. you look around you, any sign of escape. the door’s still open for some reason. you stare at him, body unmoving in the chair. hands cupped around hanako’s ears. she sinks her head into your chest, completely unmoving.

“beg?” you ask.

“yes, beg for your life! you minatozakis always just take what you want. took away from my father’s empire, that silly old lady. so my father killed one of yours.” he says, pointing to a plaque.

engraved towards the middle is ‘mamoru minatozaki’, a list on names stretching down the plaque. all of them kills by the abes, when and who.

it’s sickening to see.

“so beg, beg for forgiveness, beg for salvation, beg for escape. because you just walked into the abe mansion like a fool.” kaito stands up, his knife back towards you, you place hanako into haruto’s arms.

his eyes filled with tears as he begs for you to hold him. you give them both forehead kisses as he cries with his sister in his arms.

you beg that they don’t see what you do.

you stand back up, slipping the tanto from your waistband. unsheathing it and rolling it in your hands. taking off the blazer you had on, and rolling your sleeves up.

“oh a branded one too!” kaito laughs out pointing at your forearm, you pay him no mind as he continues to laugh. “you’ve got some fight in you?”

you just nod, getting into a defensive stance, keeping your left fist leveled. as he advances forward. kenji’s still sat playing with the knife in his hand. marveling the sharp edge, while kaito’s got bloodlust painted all over his face.

he advances forward, faking a stab at your left side, the feint doesn’t bother you one bit, using the leverage to stab at his left side as well. letting your power move with your body, nearly cutting into his jacket. to which he claps at the sight, a strange man he is.

“keep going, keep going!” he exclaims, clearly getting excitement from the taunts that you are exhibiting. you begin circling him, clearly he’s excited, letting the stabs continue. you continue to flip the dagger in your hand, he lands a slash against your cheek and against your shoulder.

kenji hasn’t even moved an inch, his finger still grazing along the edge. you feel your blood pump faster, clenching your jaw as you grip the blade harder. letting a charged attack aiming for his neck, and at the last second letting the blade slice down his body.

he cheers unexpectedly, clapping with his hands. you continue to let your eyes move from him and his brother. confused with the lack of action from kenji.

“you know how to fight! i like when my prey fight back, it’s more fun that way.” he says, changing his smile from amusement to pleasure-filled. his stance getting lower, you feel yourself getting nervous. you don’t know what he’s trained in before.

he nearly lunges at you, an unexpected speed, you dodge the attack with your arms, his knife digging into your skin. and then he pulls it back out. eyes ablaze as he continues to try and aim for your head. you narrowly dodge each attack, and with each attack, he gets faster and faster.

you let him stab his knife into your shoulder, as you stab the knife deep into his stomach. staring at him centimeters away. the way his eyes roll at the pain, he’s a masochist. entertained by his own pain, and others. you let the knife continue to sink into him being pulling it back out.

the blood pooling from his shirt, dripping onto the ground. his knife stuck into your shoulder. he grabs a longer blade off a shelf, you stumble backwards a bit. the pain of the shoulder making you hold onto his blade. better to keep it in, than to let it bleed out.

his eyes gleaming with joy as he wields a katana now in hand, you stare at it, watching the way he moves his grip, adjusting it. all the while kenji steps near him, eyes squinted as he watches his brother wield a katana.

you heave a bit, your left shoulder feeling weak from the knife lodged within. you back up a bit as they both share a look, both their eyes wild, but for different reason.

you put your right arm up, readying yourself for an attack from them both,

but then it turns into a bloodfest.

kenji, in a quick rotating turn, grabs the katana straight from kaito’s hands and stabs the long katana into his brother. cutting through him in the chest. his brother’s eyes go wide.

“you, you, you!” kaito’s hands fly towards the katana trying to pull it out, kenji only stabs it into his body further.

“any last words brother?” kenji lets out a little smile, as kaito falls backward his hand outreached towards kenji, blood gurgling in his mouth. his body going limp on the floor.

kenji then he turns to you.

“thank you for that, let’s let the real fun begin.” he says, pulling the katana out of his brother’s now lifeless body. all the while you’re trying to make sure that none of your kids are seeing this brutal scene, you can hear their small cries.

he crosses the room in a few steps, trying with all his force to slam the katana over your head, you hold with everything in you against it, fighting it with ever muscle fibers in your body. being brought abruptly with the downwards force of his slash.

knees nearly buckling under the force. he continues to drive the katana deeper, you barely hold on, begging for something to hold.

letting the sweat continue to bead across your forehead, calves and thighs straining in pressure, and at last he lets go. a short knife sent straight at his heart. his eyes nearly bulging out as he grasps onto his shirt, his heart bleeding out. and you collapse onto the ground.

the adrenaline pumping through your body, and all the pain of the fight coming back to feeling. you stare at the ceiling as people start piling in. you roll your head over, the sight of the minatozaki crest upon the back of the people.

one in particular sticks out, sana’s mother. taking the knife from his heart and stabbing into it once more. “i pity you abe boys, killing one of your own.” she says before taking the knife out once more.

“take the kids away.” you put your hand up, and immediately the guards back up. you roll your head the other way, beckoning the kids forward. haruto wailing as he falls atop your body, and little hanako staring straight at you, before joining her brother.

you smile at them both, caressing their faces, giving them kisses as tears fall down your face. they’re okay, they’re safe.

you can feel the exhaustion finally seeping in, continuing to brush their hair out their face. as your eyes roll back, and then you’re out.

your eyes open to the bright light of the hospital room, one that you previously were in for momo and mina. the windows are open, a slight wind blowing against the curtains. a bunch of fruit baskets laying at the table near your feet. clearly you’ve had some visitors.

mouth drier than a desert as you try and grab a glass of water nearby. your whole body hurts, every part of it hurts. you grunt a bit reaching the full glass, getting some needed hydration.

and this searing headache that you can feel isn’t making it any better. you try your best to look around, vision still a bit blurry. then they refocus on a figure in the chair near you.

sana’s here.

you blink a few more times, eyes getting sharper, until you can see her features clearly. it’s a gorgeous sight after nearly being killed. although she looks mad at you, her eyes in fury. the same fury you saw when she found out you had her tailed.

she stares at you, getting up when she notices you’re awake, towering over you.

“you idiot!” she shouts at you. tears in her eyes already, you try your best to move but everything hurts so much.

“sana. please.” you raise your hand, outreached towards her. she storms out of the room, the door slamming open as she rushes outside.

then sana’s mother enters the room. a limping momo trailing behind her. both women rounding the side of the bed that sana was in seconds ago. sana’s mother doesn’t display much emotion, but momo seems rather amused.

“sana’s furious, swore she would kill you if you died to the brothers.” she explains, her hands folded behind her as she stares at your patient monitor, a small smile on her hand. “you did well kid.”

“doesn’t seem like it.” you say, feeling the pain of your left shoulder still burning. a searing pain even as you try and relax. she shakes her head no, momo’s staring at your bandaged body. your injuries much like hers, minus the bruised ribs. to which you have to be thankful for. you think back to the room, how dark it was in their study. the sight of your kids cowering in fear deep in the back corner of the room, their small eyes staring at you in relief when they saw you enter.

you hope they never remember this event, and most of all that they didn’t see anything.

you know that you’ll forever live with this memory, the scars, the bloodshed, the pain. all of it will live through you and hopefully only you. a reason that you went straight for the abe brothers, without giving sana a chance to even follow. you don’t want her to deal with the repercussions of the deaths that were bound to happen. to put ease into her mind, you would shoulder the world for her.

a true testimony of your devotion to sana.

“you did it for sana, didn’t you?”

momo’s words bring you out of your thoughts, and you nod, because it’s true. sana is everything and more, someone that you find yourself leaning on when things get rough. you want her to never experience the sights of the killings. those night terrors were enough to snap you awake, you feel protective of her. wanting her peace to remain for however long she lives.

“she called me and mina up, begging us with her snotty voice to save you.” momo says, a little too serious for your taste. “she begged, sana is not one to beg. she loves you as much as you love her.”

“i know.”

momo rolls her eyes.

“what i’m trying to say is, despite how mad she may be at you, she loves you, even this part of you that wants to shoulder all her burdens.” momo explains. and you listen intently.

“when she told me that you were going to marry her, i always wondered why. but now i know, you mean every word you say. there’s no games with you. in this world, all there is are games, everyone has their motives, their greed, their lust. but you speak from the heart, and that’s all sana wants, someone genuine. their love as obvious as their words.”

you nearly choke up at the words, it’s a feeling that you’ve been thinking about lately. ever since sana’s mother explained why she chose you (sana as well).

“thank you momo.” and with a small nod she leaves the hospital room.

you feel like you haven’t deserved the love that sana gives you, as much as you want to. just not understanding why, but it’s clear, even in this dark and cruel world that you’ve been married into.

you sob openly, just letting the tears of everything that’s been building up in you fall like flowing feelings. all the pain and suffering of being married into this family, the strange stares from outsiders. enduring the rigorous training from momo and mina all in order to become someone strong enough for this family, all those nights you had to hold a crying sana.

“you are an absolute idiot.” you get wheeled outside, sitting in your hospital gown as you get placed next to sana’s bench. there’s tears still in her eyes, and she refuses to look at you.

“i know, i’m sorry.” you respond.

“what if you died? what if they killed you and the kids? what am i supposed to do then?” she exclaims, tears gushing from her eyes. tissues in her hands as she stares at them.

“i, i don’t know. i didn’t think that far. i just knew i had to save them.” you explain, trying your best to not pick at the IV needle.

“i should kill you myself, sending yourself on a suicide mission.” she bites out, an anger you haven’t heard in months. you just nod letting her continue to talk. “i stayed outside, momo holding me back. and then i saw haruto running towards me, tears in his eyes.”

you nod, feeling a deep shame running through your body, hoping that he didn’t see anything.

“he just kept saying you saved him and hanako, i thought you died in there. but you didn’t. you didn’t die in there, and you saved them too.”

“i did what i needed to do.” sana continues to speak over you.

“and i’m frustrated, because it should’ve been us saving them together, but you shouldered all my burdens once again. you took on this marriage which saved me from marrying kaito, and you continue to shoulder my burdens even now.”

“because i love you sana.” you declare. “it isn’t a burden to me because i love you. and i always will sana, until death do us part, i promised to love you forevermore, and i choose you as my partner.” you pull yourself in front of her.

“i want everything with you, even in sickness and in health, all these vows i said during our wedding, i didn’t know it then, but i know it now. i mean every single word!” you cry out.

you stare at her, and her eyes lift up at yours, you wipe the tears off her face. a small smile on her face as she kisses you, even with salty tears rolling down.

a/n: the series is finished! hehehee, i left an easter egg!! message me if u figure it out :P, also thank you to the lovely @d3viant0n3 for helping me move this series forward, forever thankful <3 as well as my moots for listening to my troubles w this fic (forgot to mention!! dragon back tattoo is @cry4mina's idea) LOL and as always, stay safe and stay healthy everyone!

#sana #twice #twice sana #sana twice #sana minatozaki #minatozaki sana #sana x reader #sana x you #kpop imagines #twice x reader #twice x you #neoplatinum

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beansprean · 2 years

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My fav thing about the classic flowershop / tattoo parlor au is assigning the objectively wrong roles for no reason other than my own enjoyment. ID under cut!

[ID: 1. Full body of a modern flowershop / tattoo parlor au with Stede and Ed. They are standing together in the wall space between their shops, meeting for the first time. Stede’s shop on the left says “tattoo” in large red letters on the window as well as a sign with their hours. Inside there is a small piercing display. Ed’s shop on the right has “flowers” in blue lettering on the window as well as the beginnings of a phone number with area code 246. Inside there is a tiered display of various types of flowers including sunflowers, roses, lilies, and carnations. Stede has three studs in his ear and snake bite hoops in his lip and is wearing a dark gray blouse with frilly sleeves, a purple waistcoat with silver detailings, a silver pocket square, a cravat pinned with a large purple jewel, and black trousers. He has several rings on each hand and black nails and is holding a cardboard box labeled “gauges.” He turns with pleasant surprise to look at Ed, smiles, and says “Oh!! Hello!” Ed, on a smoke break, just stares at him with pink-cheeked surprise in response. He has his long hair up in a bun and is wearing blue jeans and a pink tee shirt over a pale green apron with “Queen Anne’s” stitched on the breast. In his left hand is a lit cigarette, and the right is in his apron pocket fumbling with a red cloth. All his usual tattoos (save for the eagle on his chest and the marae on his wrist) are now floral designs, including a long leafy vine winding down his right arm, several pink carnations and falling petals, palm leaves on his left bicep, and a patch of sunflowers on his left shoulder and neck.

2. A new day, Stede now in a blue waistcoat with embroidered fleur-de-lis and light blue blouse and cravat and Ed with his hair half up in a bun, wearing a red tee shirt, apron, and brown gardening gloves. Stede is leaning toward him looking excited, declaring, “Lilac?? I would love to design that for you!” Ed, leaning back and looking flustered as he blushes and avoids eye contact, flexes his hands at his side and laughs nervously. “Uh, haha, really? Idk if my artist would like that.” To the side, we see a small drawing of a sullen Izzy with large gauges and a vee neck shirt, holding a buzzing tattoo pen. Text next to him in parentheses reads “current artist.”

3a. The same day; Ed sitting on a tattoo chair with his left arm extended while Stede, wearing nitrile gloves, doodles a lilac branch onto the blank spot on his forearm with a tattoo pen. Ed, staring at Stede shyly but warmly from the corner of his eye, offers a small smile and says, “You’re always so covered up, I’ve never even seen any of your tattoos.” Stede, smiling absently as he works on Ed’s tattoo, responds, “Oh! I don’t have any.”

3b. Ed whips his head toward Stede in shock, forgetting his shy attempt at flirting in favor of gaping openly at him. Stede, none the wiser, continues to draw and hum to himself.

3c. Close up of Ed’s face from the previous panel zoomed in, hearts popping up in his eyes and cheeks going a dark red. Text next to him reads “you are so fucking fascinating”

/end ID]

#OFMD #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #mlm #flowershop tattoo au #modern au #my art #fanart #our flag means death #image described

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kaynai-sama · 1 year

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Wendell growled as he took his phone, answering the call of a certain friend in China. "Dude, it's fucking two in the morning here! What do you want?"

"Come on, this is a group call, we have to wait untill everyone's in!"

"Kenny, how many of us do you think will answer the call?"

"It has to be all of us, it's important."

"Ugh,... Let me send a message to the group."

After letting everyone in, everyone tired and sleepy.

"Alright, what is so important that you had to wake us up?"

"Well, this is really a big deal and I didn't want to waste more time, this is some amazing news!"

"In light us."

Kenny took a deep breath as the dramatic bastard he is and said it. "I found Martin! Finally!"

Now that did woke them all up.

"Wow, are you serious?"

"When, how?"

"The real one?!"

"Yes, yes!" Kenny almost shouted. "He and his crew are here in China, you need to come here quick!"

"Okay, this is shocking but, sure, why not? It's Martin we're talking about, man! Let's fucking go!"

Everyone's morning light up because of the news. The group hadn't been the same ever since Martin left, and now, after years... The head of Snake's Garden would come back to the group.

Kenny hung up and called the last person who would be interested by the news. "Hey Jaaaackiiiiieeeeee, I found you're ex! Come to China, right now!"

"...Wha-?"

"I found Martin!"

"..."

M-Martin...?

#wild kratts #wild kratts au #snake's garden au #kaynai oc

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written-in-flowers · 6 months

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Be the Light: Pt. 3 (SeongjoongxFem!reader)

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

Word Count: 6k

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

AU: historical!au, arranged marriage!au, royalty!au

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

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

Taglist: @scarfac3 @tunaasan @lelaleleb @sevngmin148 @meljoongiee @puppyminnnie @sunasmoke22 @kyourixr @yoongiigolden @lynnsqueendom @atinycafe @soocore @ethereally-lyann @blackbutterfly133 @ddaeing @pearltinyy @raviollirin

Huge thanks to my lovely beta reader @daesukiii 💕💕

Part 2 < | > Part 4

***

The palace temple was built by the first King of Hanseong, one of Sookmyung’s ancestors, many years ago. Walking through the temple’s zen garden, a small pond area guarded by stone statues of gods, Hongjoong and Seonghwa did not meet anyone during their walk. Hardly anyone visited the palace temple anymore, and since Sookmyung did not care about it, the area became overgrown by wildlife and dense foliage. Both men struggled to find the path at times, and once or twice one of them ran into garden snakes. But, eventually they saw the stone and wood structure in the middle of a clearing. Hongjoong saw a stone buddha statue eroded by age and weather in front of several kneeling cushions on the ground. The place overall carried a tranquil silence that he worried might break at the slightest sound. He’d expected they’d be alone, but he’d been wrong.

Sitting in her usual wheelchair, Queen Mother Jisoo sat with her hands folded over her lap and head bowed in prayer. On a cushion beside her was Chaewon, her handmaiden. This sudden appearance of Sookmyung’s mother raised their suspicions. The small offerings placed in front of the statue implied she visited often, and she appeared entirely at peace. Hongjoong looked at Seonghwa, and saw the caution in his eyes. They walked slowly and quietly behind the two women, taking their own cushions and sitting in silence. Hongjoong wondered how long the pair planned to be here. What if their contact backs away because he saw Jisoo and Chaewon? Then, he’d never learn of their plan. He’d considered leaving and waiting in the bushes before another figure joined them.

Senior Advisor Choi Wonshik. He came unaccompanied this time, in his usual official robes and gat. A quick glance to them with a bow was returned before he took a cushion beside Hongjoong. Another person to scare off his contact. Hongjoong had given Seonghwa a look before Jisoo spoke first.

“What do you pray for, Hongjoong?”

Jisoo’s voice broke the garden’s tranquil silence, as soothing as the water falling into the pond nearby. Hongjoong and Seonghwa looked at one another, then at Wonshik, who smiled serenely with his head bowed. Chaewon showed a similar expression, not looking over at him or anyone else. He thought about what he could possibly say to Sookmyung’s mother. It’d be wrong to tell her ‘your daughter’s downfall’ out loud and to her face.

“For home,” Seonghwa said from beside him.

Hongjoong whipped his head over to him, but Jisoo spoke first. “As do all of us,” she beckoned Chaewon to stand, and the woman moved to turn her chair around and face them. The lines around her mouth and her eyes showed signs of a woman who’d laughed and lived well. Her eyes, while similar to Sookmyung, did not hold viciousness but rather warmth.

She smiled at them both, “This country is my home. I spent many years of my life dedicated to leaving it better than when I first came into power. I pray for its safety and wellbeing every morning, afternoon, and night. I pray that the crops will be fruitful this harvest, and that we will never see another war or famine again. My prayers are the only thing left to me since my daughter was crowned queen.”

“It is the only thing many of us have left,” added Wonshik. “I pray for strength,” he told them, “And for patience. I pray that one day the dignity of The Crown is restored, and that when people see our banners, they do not cower in fear but instead feel comforted.”

“I pray for the good health of the people,” said Chaewon, “And for the protection of my daughter, YN.”

“As we should,” said Wonshik.

Suddenly everything made sense. He looked over at Chaewon, then Wonshik, then at Jisoo.

“We may speak plainly,” Jisoo declared. “I told the guards to leave this place, and this temple has been banned since Sookmyung became queen. This means you can remove those ridiculous veils and let me see your handsome faces."

Tentatively, Hongjoong and Seonghwa removed their veils and Jisoo beamed brightly at them. She examined Seonghwa first, clearly admiring his jawline and wide eyes. Hongjoong saw her nod her head in approval.

"Just as handsome as you are intelligent," she concluded. "One might have thought you'd been sculpted by gods if they saw you."

Seonghwa bowed his head appreciatively. She did the same with Hongjoong, studying his features closely. His cheeks blushed being observed like a painting or statue sold at auction. He looked over to Wonshik, who appeared to be doing the same from where he sat. But, it was Chaewon who spoke.

"He looks like a true prince, doesn't he, Your Majesty?" She grinned fondly.

"No, not a prince," Jisoo said. She met his eyes when she said, "A king."

Her words left him speechless. He eyed her closely, searching for a lie in her face. This woman is Sookmyung’s mother; her being part of a resistance against her sounded too good to be true. Hongjoong never knew Jisoo to scold or criticize her daughter. More often than not, she remained neutral and kept to herself in the palace. Seeing The Queen Mother was rarer than seeing a concubine. He couldn’t imagine her wanting to depose her own child. When she moved away, he spoke.

“What did we meet here for?” he asked her, “To talk of prayers? Changbin’s message mentioned another heir.”

“How can that be?” Seonghwa asked after him.

“Sookmyung has a twin sister.”

The news shocked the two men. “A twin?” Hongjoong furrowed his brow, “Where? How? If there is someone walking around with Sookmyung’s face, then they would’ve been found before now.”

“I married King Siwon when I was nineteen-years-old,” she started. “Being the King, Siwon had a multitude of responsibilities. I only had one: to produce heirs for the throne. I’m sad to say it was the only thing I could not do. Siwon and I spent five years of our marriage trying for a child, and failing. Every pregnancy I did have never carried to term or came out ill and died or was a stillborn,” Hongjoong saw the discomfort in her face speaking about it. “I felt like a failure. I loved Siwon, and I knew how much he wanted a child, and I’d disappointed him. Those snakes at court began whispering that perhaps I was barren or I had a disease preventing me from having a healthy child. I had to do something. I knew if I failed to produce an heir, they might demand an annulment and Siwon and I would be separated forever.”

“So, what did you do?”

“I prayed,” she answered. “I prayed right here in this temple. Chaewon was there,” she lifted a hand which Chaewon took in her own, “And she prayed with me. I prayed for fertility, for a healthy child, and to bring honor to my family. The next time Siwon and I made love, a month later I was declared pregnant. I spent most of my pregnancy bed ridden, since I feared the slightest movement might make me lose the child inside me. The physicians checked on me night and day, giving me herbal teas and acupuncture treatments for the baby. It was a painful experience, but Siwon said the result would be worth the struggle.” She then said, “Then, on the fourteenth night on the eighth moon twenty-four years ago, I finally gave birth to my child. She came into the world crying and screaming, and by all accounts was perfectly healthy. I’d done my duty to my family, and I’d finally gotten the one thing I’d always wanted: a child.

“But then, I felt another pain and the physician said I was going into labor again. Out came a second girl, quieter than the first and whimpering softly, but also completely healthy. Siwon saw the crisis before anyone else did. He said he’d seen dynasties be torn apart by a succession dispute…” she paused, gulping thickly as she said, “And said one of the girls would have to go.”

“What? That’s awful,” said Seonghwa softly. “He forced you to part from your own child to avoid a war over the throne?”

“That’s what he believed he was doing,” she replied. Chaewon put both her hands on Jisoo’s shoulders, and the queen touched one of them still. “I knew he was right. My own family went through a similar struggle when my father died, and I did not wish to see my children be torn apart because of a silly chair. I told my husband I understood his reasoning, but I did not wish to be fully separated from my child. I begged him to let the girl remain in the palace; I told him we can pass her off as somebody’s else’s child, and nobody would have to know outside of a select few. The girls looked nothing alike, so it wasn’t as if anyone would suspect.”

Hongjoong sensed the end of this story, and he couldn’t believe it at all.

“Then, I turned to my closest friend,” she smiled up at Chaewon, “Who’d held my hand throughout my labors and been there every step of the way. She’d suffered similar fertility issues with her husband, who couldn’t produce enough sperm to give her a child. I offered the younger of the two to her,” she looked back at them, “And she’d live as Chaewon and Hyungshik’s daughter instead.”

“YN…” your name escaped his lips softly. “No, that’s…YN and Sookmyung could not be any different from one another. Firstly, their appearances alone are vastly different, and their demeanors…YN, she’s…She’s too sweet to have shared a womb with a monster like Sookmyung. How would you have kept this from other servants? Gossip spreads in this place like wildfire. If Queen Jisoo had two twins, people would have known in seconds.”

“And if Chaewon didn’t have a child one day, was never pregnant, and suddenly produced one,” added Seonghwa, “Might raise suspicions.”

“I told people my husband and I adopted a baby from the city orphanage,” Chaewon said.

“And the only people in the birthing room that night were myself, the king, the physician, Chaewon and Wonshik,” Jisoo replied. “Everyone involved was sworn to secrecy. Physician Yoon passed away some years after the twins’ birth, so it was one less person. Han YN became Park YN, and she has lived as Chaewon and Hyungshik’s adopted daughter ever since. I demanded that YN and Sookmyung live side-by-side like sisters, being companions as children before YN became her handmaiden.”

“It was His Majesty’s wish that YN be educated alongside Sookmyung,” said Wonshik. “I think when Sookmyung’s nature began to show, he started regretting his decision to separate the twins. I suggested he reveal his deception to the people, and claim YN as his daughter, but he refused. He was too proud to admit he’d made a mistake, and too optimistic that Sookmyung’s wild behavior was a phase she’d grown out of in adulthood.”

“He also feared what Sookmyung might do if she found out she had a sister,” Jisoo admitted to them. “You two saw what she’d done to those who had claims to the throne, no matter how distant. I knew telling her would put YN’s life in danger.”

“Then why are you bringing this to light now?” asked Hongjoong, appalled by their confessions. “Sookmyung is the queen. She is the most powerful person in the country. She has men who will torture and kill people at the first word, and will not hesitate to do it herself. She’ll kill YN and get away with it,” he couldn’t keep the panic out of his voice. “We can’t let anyone else know. If Sookmyung should ever think YN is-”

“-Sookmyung needs to be stopped,” Jisoo cut him off firmly. “I love my daughter. I have loved her despite her faults and wrongdoings. I did my best to raise her to be a proper lady of the realm, and prepare her for her ascension. But, I must accept the truth: my daughter is not the person I’d hoped she’d become.”

“She never was,” said Wonshik. “Ever since her girlhood, Queen Sookmyung has been vicious, manipulative, aggressive and cruel. You cannot deny this, Your Majesty,” he told her, “I told your husband that naming Sookmyung his heir would be a mistake.”

“Then who would he have named? His incompetent brother? His people-pleasing sister?” she snapped at him. “I don’t know if you remember, Senior Advisor, but my daughter had most of my husband’s family killed during the war. There are so few claimants left, and they’d be too frightened to challenge Sookmyung.” She turned back to Hongjoong, “YN is our only hope at saving this kingdom from open warfare.”

“Warfare? Do you believe the rebels are strong enough to engage?” asked Seonghwa, sitting back on his haunches and putting a hand to his chin thoughtfully. “From what I’ve always understood the rebel forces to be ill equipped and nothing more than commoners with pitchforks?”

“And that is the exact image we want Sookmyung to have,” Wonshik told him. “I can assure you that the rebels are more than farmers and fishermen. Her Majesty and I have managed to rally some supporters from the other cities. Daegu, Jeonju, and Pyongyang have all given their support to our cause, and minor lords in Gangwon-do and Jeju-do gave theirs as well. I have close friends here at court who will be on YN's side when we finally usurp Sookmyung.”

“It will not be an easy transition, Senior Advisor,” said Seonghwa. “The people only know Sookmyung; they do not know YN. If they hear she is a twin, they may assume she shares Sookmyung’s behaviors. I don’t know if you’re aware, sir, but Sookmyung forces YN to participate in the torture and abuse a majority of the time. It’s a strange intimacy the both of them have. They might believe she’s the same or worse.”

“Which is why we must show them that YN is tender-hearted and gentle,” he replied. “Have her go into the city, meet her people and speak to them face-to-face. Reinstate the protection laws and charities Sookmyung banned or removed. She can repair damages done across the kingdom and lower taxation and those ridiculous tributes Sookmyung demands. The people will see that she is vastly different from their previous queen.”

“And she’ll have something Sookmyung has not had in the eight years of her reign,” said Jisoo. “The thing her advisors have hounded her about for years.”

“What?”

“A husband,” she eyed Hongjoong when she said this. “Not only a husband, but a husband who’d been a prince of Wonju, the rebel base and rallying point of the rebellion.”

“Should peace be restored, I’d return to Wonju to rule,” said Hongjoong. “My whole family is dead. There’d be nobody to take my place.”

“That is not entirely true, young prince,” Wonshik said. “There is your cousin, Jeongin.”

“Jeongin?” He lifted an eyebrow. Hongjoong remember his youngest cousin, and said, “He was killed by Sookmyung’s guards the day they sacked the city.”

“No, he wasn’t,” he said. “Wonju loyalists managed to smuggle him out right as the fighting began. He has been living in the countryside ever since. The people in charge of him have been preparing him to be your steward in Wonju. You would be here with YN, ruling at her side, while giving him control of Wonju in your place.” When he saw Hongjoong’s hesitation, he added, “Jeongin is the same kind, caring boy you remember. He would make a great steward.”

“And it’d rebuild the alliance Wonju and Hanseong once had,” said Jisoo. “I don’t believe Wonju’s bannermen would agree to any ties with Hanseong without a marriage pact. Even if you have not been in Wonju, the people there still stand with you, Hongjoong. You are their king. You can be my daughter’s king consort, be at her side and guide her.” She then grinned slyly, "Unless you do not want her?”

"Of course I do," he blurted out without thinking. "I mean, I do like her. I think YN could be a good queen with the right counsel, but Sookmyung…"

Hongjoong did not want to imagine what horrors she'd have in store for you. Sookmyung held you very close to her heart. Should she believe you're conspiring against her, she'll see it as the deepest of betrayals. Hongjoong refused to let her dangle you from a ceiling or shove you in a horrific box. He'd kill her before he let that happen.

"What are your plans for Sookmyung?" Seonghwa asked when Hongjoong failed to respond.

"She will be arrested and put on trial," said Wonshik

"On what charges?"

"Crimes she committed during the war," he explained. "The murder and torture of prisoners of war, purposefully attacking civilian towns and taking hostages are only a few named."

"You cannot arrest a queen."

"You can if she has been deposed," he corrected him. "If the council decides Sookmyung is unfit as queen, she will be replaced by YN, therefore removing her titles. Up until now, most of the officials feared retaliation from her for speaking out, but I have convinced the Head Advisors to join me."

"Is she not supposed to be there when the ruling is made? That is part of the law."

"Smart boy," Wonshik smiled at him, "But there is a loophole in this law."

"Is there?"

"The ruling monarch does not have to be present for every council meeting," he said, "And Sookmyung never comes to any of them. We always come to decisions on our own, and present them to her for approval."

"And this ruling can be made during one of these meetings," concluded Seonghwa. "She will not go quietly, you know. She will try to flee."

"We have no doubt about that," he replied. "Do not worry. I have many things in place to make sure she is detained."

"And when is this supposed to happen?"

"Tonight."

"Tonight? So soon? Why?"

"Because it is crucial we do it as soon as possible," he said. “Her Majesty will set up a place for Sookmyung to be, we will wait until she is unsuspecting, and then confront her. We will have supporters around us to step in if need be.”

"The only person we are waiting on is you, Your Grace," Jisoo said to him gently. "Will you accept my daughter’s hand in marriage and be her king consort? Help us reunite the kingdoms and restore peace?"

His eyes began to sting. Nobody had called him 'Your Grace' in a very long time. He didn't think he'd ever be called that again. Thinking deeply, Naeun came to mind. If he refused, everything she suffered would be for nothing. He remembered her lifeless body laying on the hard straw, broken bones protruding from her skin and her eye swollen shut. She died with the hope that one day her home will be as she remembered. Hongjoong then thought of you. As your king consort, he could be around you whenever he liked. He could speak to you, laugh with you, kiss and hold you the way he dreamed. You would be his, and you could restore the kingdom together.

"Yes," he nodded. "Yes, I will."

For home.

****

"-He kept crying all the way back," she huffed. "I thought, being a man, that he'd have a higher tolerance for it."

You knelt at Sookmyung’s side by the low dining table. The afternoon light shone in through the open windows, their borders creating shapes on the floors. Along with it came a cool spring breeze that kissed your warm cheeks. You hated it when Sookmyung recounted her nights in the dungeon. It sickened your stomach, and only brought on more haunting visions. You laddled egg soup into a bowl for her, stirred it around a few times, then placed it in front of her.

“You’re a woman and you have a stronger stomach than him,” she said, spooning soup into her mouth.

“I am sure Hongjoong was only overwhelmed by experiencing so much so quickly,” you told her. You sliced toasted bread, putting a small pot of honey and jaw in front of her. “You should have started small, perhaps The Box or The Bull. You know, an act he doesn’t see but hears instead. It lets his mind fill in the blank spaces.”

“Hm,” she mused, sipping more soup from her bowl, “I suppose you’re right. I may have been a bit hasty in my excitement to show him the chamber. I thought…” she hesitated, “I thought he might understand. I thought he’d enjoy it the way we do.” She pondered over her soup, pushing the strings of egg with her spoon. “I was wrong.” You saw her fingers grip the spoon tightly, her eyes narrowed at the bowl as it’d wronged her.

“Things like the dungeon take a bit of getting used to,” you told her. “I am sure with time, he will come to enjoy it with you.”

You sat back on your legs and watched her eat. Your own stomach growled quietly, and rumbled in your gut the longer you lingered on the food. The porridge you’d eaten this morning had since been digested, and left you hungry again. You did not know what plans Sookmyung had for the day, since she never concerned herself with the day-to-day work of a queen. The advisors usually held meetings in the morning, then approached her with their decisions some time in the day. Having started her day late, you’re sure they’ll wait until much later to discuss any rulings they’ve made. A part of you believed the council made decisions and put them into action without Sookmyungs’s knowledge sometimes. It is not as if she cared anyway.

“You’re the only person I can share my chambers with,” she said. “You’re the only one who understands.”

Unfortunately, she was right. While Sookmyung’s ‘experiments’ and ‘delights’ haunted your dreams and churned your stomach, you’d begun to understand why she must hurt others. It made sense when you thought about it. Relishing in the pain of others gave her a gratification she couldn’t find anywhere else. Hurting them, controlling when the pain began and ended simulated a power reserved for gods, and not men. You often stood by as she forcibly shoved a man into a box full of venomous scorpions and spiders, and saw the glee in her face. You’d see her carve a man’s face off to place maggots on the red flesh, then stand to watch him writhe in agony. It was abhorrent to anyone else. It was fun for Sookmyung. The fact that her treasured flower did not revel in the torture with her must’ve upset her deeply. Hongjoong having cried at whatever befell the assassin angered Sookmyung. Watching her stir her soup around before eating it, you worried she might decide she no longer wants Hongjoong.

He may end up in The Box next.

“Will you take him back there?” you asked her, pouring milk into a cup for her to drink.

“I wanted to, but the assassin died in the night,” she scoffed. She ate another piece of kimchi, chewing on the fermented vegetable before saying, “You should have seen her, YN. I think you would have admired her resistance.”

“Did she reveal any information to you?”

“No,” she shook her head, “Those rebel bastards should start finding smarter people. The guards say they found her climbing over the garden wall, waiting in the trees by the corner. You’d think an assassin might be smarter than that.”

“Hubris,” you said, “That was her mistake.”

She grinned, “And stupidity. What made her think she could ever possibly put her knife to my throat?”

“Pride or desperation. One of the two, I suspect.”

Sookmyung then changed to another topic, a smirk lifting a corner of her mouth, “You never answered me last night.”

“Your Majesty?” you dug your nails into your skirt. Another test was coming, you knew it.

“I asked if San was your type.”

“I told you he was not, Your Majesty.”

Your cheeks burned recalling the previous night. You are certain Sookmyung had no intention of letting you lay with one of her flowers. She only wanted to embarrass you further in front of people. Like with her victims, she controlled your life. She’d also control any lover you took up. She’d kill them if she didn’t approve.

“YN, I cannot find you a proper husband unless you tell me,” she said irritably. She then sneered, “Or, maybe, you don’t like men at all.”

“Wha-what?” your eyes widened at the implication, and you shook your head. “Your Majesty, I assure you I do prefer me-”

“-There is nothing wrong with liking the same sex, YN. There are places all over the world where women couple with women,” she cupped your chin so you looked at her. Her thumb traced your bottom lip line as she said, “I sometimes wish I’d been the boy my father had wanted. Then, this marriage situation could be easily solved.” She moved away from her bowl to sit closer to you. You shivered as her fingers pushed stray strands of hair away, “I could marry the prettiest, loveliest woman I know, and make her mine.” When you looked away in embarrassment, she cackled, “Such a flustered little virgin. There is so much you do not know.”

“Your Majesty…”

“It’s sweet.”

The sound of footsteps made you jump away from her, but she stayed in place. A knock on the door made her grunt frustratedly.

“Go see who it is, YN,” she said, “Then tell them to leave. We have places to be later, and I need to get dressed.”

You were all too eager to go. You are not a naive child. You know women can be romantic with other women; there is nothing wrong with that. You’d seen Sookmyung nude many times over the course of your servitude, and you wouldn’t say she was ugly by any means. Any true naive person would think she is a goddess with her slender curves and hips. The only problem for you was that said woman is sadistically evil. You reached the door, and slid it open to reveal your mother and Queen Jisoo.

“Your Majesty,” you said, heat rising in your cheeks again as you bowed, “Good afternoon. What brings you here?”

“My daughter,” she replied stiffly. “Is she finally awake?”

“She is,” you nodded, “But she has a busy schedule ahead of her, so she must be getting dressed now.”

“Psh, as if that will stop me,” she replied. “Chaewon, wheel me in.”

With a beckoning gesture over her shoulder, your mother wheeled Jisoo into the room where Sookmyung sat on cushions by the low breakfast table. You trailed behind, not meeting her eyes, and remaining silent.

“Good afternoon, Mother,” Sookmyung said with a false grin, “I hope you’re feeling better. YN was just telling me you hadn’t eaten much yesterday.” A lie that Queen Jisoo did not believe for a second.

“I am, darling daughter,” she said, “But my health is not why I’ve come here. I am here to tell you that you are to clear your afternoon schedule today.”

“Why is that?”

“I have invited lords from Daegu, Jeonju, and Pyongyang as well as sons of your bannermen to our banquet pavilion today. It is about time you stopped fiddling with those poor concubines of yours and settled down with a husband.”

Sookmyung glared at her, “I do not want a husband.”

“I’m afraid that your wishes are no longer a concern to anyone. You are a queen, and a queen must have a king.”

“I do not want a king.”

“Why? Because then you’d have to actually share your power with someone? Because there will finally be someone restraining these ghastly, deviant urges of yours?” her mother accused. “I have made excuses for your behavior for years and years, Sookmyung. When people at court called you improper and promiscuous, I told them you shared your father’s fiery passion. When they said your conquest brought nothing but poverty to your people, I said that you united the kingdoms under one rule and brought forth strength to our armies. Even when you rebuilt the dungeons, to toy and defile people you deemed criminals, I told them that you were passionate about justice.” You heard the frustration rising in her voice, and flaring in her dark eyes. “People have begun to talk, Sookmyung. They say that one day soon, you’ll become pregnant with an illegitimate child and bring shame to our throne.”

“Who cares?” Sookmyung groaned, “Any child I bare would have my blood. Why would that make them unworthy?”

“Because a bastard has never sat on our throne-”

“-I don’t want them, so why does this matter?”

Jisoo sighed, “Sookmyung, I understand your hesitancy to marry. I had my reservations when my mother approached me, but I made it work. I did my duty to my country and my family.” Her eyes shifted over to you, sad and full of regret. It struck you as strange. “But, in order for our family to continue, you must produce a legitimate child. A child of royal, noble blood.”

“I hate children,” she spat, glaring back at her mother, “They’re whiny, snotty, and annoying.”

“You’ll feel differently when you have a child of your own.”

Sookmyung then gave her mother a grin that unsettled you. It was the same mischievous smile she’d given when she misbehaved. She stood up from her seat, and said, “But, what if I have found true love at last, Mother? What if I have found someone I wish to spend my life with?”

“You-You have? Who?” the queen asked, shocked.

Sookmyung moved over to you, standing behind you with arms around your waist. She placed her head on your shoulder as she said, “YN.”

Jisoo scoffed, “Oh please, Sookmyung. You cannot marry YN; she is a woman.”

“Women marry women all the time, Mother, when they marry the same husband,” she said. “YN and I can marry the same man and he can give her children instead.”

“As true as that may be, our clan has never indulged in such practices,” she said. “Besides, any child YN has will be considered…” she searched for the words, “Hers. Not yours. You are the queen, so it is your children who should-”

“-I am aware of how succession works, Mother!” Sookmyung snapped, her voice pinching your eardrum. “I have told you explicitly time and time again that I do not wish to have children or to marry. YN is perfect for it. If I marry her, her children will also be considered my children.”

“Should you marry a woman, it cannot be YN,” her mother said.

“Why not?”

“She is your handmaiden, love. She is not…” she paused again, “She is not suitable for you. She is not of noble blood.”

“Psh, wow,” Sookmyung snorted, “I thought I could be cruel. Did you hear that, Chaewon? My mother thinks your daughter is unworthy of me.”

“My daughter is a servant, Your Majesty,” your mother told her. “She’ll be marrying someone of her station like a stableboy or a blacksmith. A woman of your rank, Your Majesty, should be marrying a fine lord or a prince.”

“There are no princes left, you fool,” Sookmyung sniped at her.

“There would be if you hadn’t slain them all,” interjected Jisoo. “Enough of this foolishness. You will come to the pavilion today and greet your suitors. I give you until the end of the day to make a decision. If you do not choose one, I will choose one for you,” she said sternly.

“You wouldn’t-”

“-I would,” she cut her off. “This childish behavior of yours is coming to an end. You have been a queen for eight years, and have not even considered any suitors for yourself, so I must do it for you. I am giving one chance. If not, consider yourself lucky that you have not been dethroned.”

“You bitch!”

Sookmyung grabbed a small ceramic vase and flung it in the queen’s direction. Jisoo shielded her face in time to avoid any serious damage, but you still saw the disbelief in her eyes.

“I hate you!” Sookmyung grabbed another object, this time a small dish, which was dodged when your mother pulled Jisoo away. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!”

“Your Majesty, please!”

You managed to grab her wrist in time to stop her from taking up a third object, which gave your mother time to wheel Jisoo away. “You can throw tantrums all you want,” Jisoo called from nearby, “You will get married or live to regret it.”

“What did you say, you-”

You kept Sookmyung from following her mother out by the waist. “Your Majesty,” you called over her grunting and growling, “Please enough. You will only make things worse for yourself.”

“For myself?” she twisted out of your grasp and turned on you, “I am the queen, you idiot! What sort of consequences could I face? What can that old, useless woman do to me?”

“I-I don’t know-”

“-You never know anything,” she hissed. “Just as stupid as you look. I am the queen. Nobody can touch me. Nobody can make me do anything I don’t want to do. I don’t have to marry anyone. I don’t have to have children. I don’t have to do anything that those stupid, old men in the council want me to do.”

“They only have the country’s best interest at heart,” you explained, keeping your hands together to stop them shaking. “They’re not doing it to hurt you or make you unhappy. Having a child would ensure your family name and legacy continues onward,” you took a moment to think, then said, “How can you make sure your dungeons and practices remain in place if somebody else takes up the throne? With a child of your own, you can make sure they share the same beliefs as you about crime and punishment.”

“I hate children,” she gruffed.

“You don’t have to like them. You don’t even have to take care of them; you can have a wet nurse look after them for you. You only have to have them.”

“I don’t want to marry any of those men.”

“I’m afraid it must be one of them.”

Sookmyung’s palm collided with your cheek sharply. The pain burned on your skin, but you did not dare flinch or wince in front of her. “You do not get to tell me what I can and can’t do,” she snarled. “I do. I am the queen." She smacked you again, “Say it. Say I am the queen.”

“You are the queen,” you squeaked.

“And you are my slave.”

“And I am your slave.”

Sookmyung smacked your other cheek, then grabbed you by the collar of your jacket. “I should throw you in that chamber. I think you’d remember who you are after a few days in there.”

Your eyes stayed on hers, and you trembled in her grasp. She could do it. You knew she could. For the briefest moment, you saw yourself laying nude in The Box, screaming and clawing at the wooden door as insects and arachnids crawled all over you.

“But no,” she released you and stepped away, “You’re not hard-headed like the other idiots around here. Dress me, and then we can meet these stupid suitors.”

“You…You will meet them then?”

“Might as well,” she shrugged. “Maybe we can find a husband we both like.”

“Both of us? Your Majesty,” you followed her to the bedroom, “None of those men would want to marry me. I am a servant.”

“You’re my servant,” she noted. “If they marry me, they’re marrying you too.” She held her arms behind her back so you may untie and remove her robe for her.

You gingerly touched your left cheek, and felt a small welt where her ring struck you. It pinched when you touched it. “What about your flowers? If you marry, you may not be allowed to have them.”

“I’m never giving them up,” she said, “Not for anyone. I worked too hard to obtain them.”

“Your husband may not like that and dismiss them from the palace. As king consort, he’d be allowed that right.” You’ll admit, you liked the idea of her flowers being set free. They’d all be able to live the lives they’ve always wanted freely and happily.

“I’d kill my flowers before I let anyone else take them from me,” she said. “Grab the red and gold dress.”

“Shall I call in the others?”

“No. I can’t stand them.”

“As you wish.”

“Because I am the queen.”

“Because you are the queen,” you repeated, giving a nod of your head before disappearing into the nearby closet.

In the privacy of the walk-in closet, you pretended to search the shelves for the appropriate box. Sookmyung kept all her hanboks in boxes with their descriptions on the side. You already knew where her regal dress was, but did not reach for the box. Your back pressed into the opposite shelf and you took deep, silent breaths. Heart pounding in your chest, you tried your best to calm it before Sookmyung heard you. Like a feral animal, she grew tense the second she sensed fear. You hated this feeling, but it came regardless. You hated that your life was at her mercy.

One mistake, one false word, and she’d throw you into a torture cell.

***

A/N: The conspirators have finally met!! I am so happy you guys are enjoying this fic so far. I know it's complex and elaborate, but I really love historical dramas and period pieces, so I wanted to write one for ateez. Please, as always, feel free to like, reblog, and comment <3

Also, sorry if some tags aren't tagging. Idk why.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez x reader #matz x reader #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #hongjoong ateez #seonghwa ateez #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #pirateeznet

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